A Wood.
 Enter EDGAR.

Edgar	I heard myself proclaimed;
	And by the happy hollow of a tree
	Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place
	That guard and most unusual vigilance
	Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 'scape
	I will preserve myself; and am bethought
	To take the basest and most poorest shape
	That ever penury, in contempt of man,
	Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth,
	Blanket my loins, elf all my hairs in knots,
	And with presented nakedness outface
	The winds and persecutions of the sky.
	The country gives me proof and precedent
	Of Bedlam beggars who, with roaring voices,
	Strike in their numbed and mortified bare arms
	Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
	And with this horrible object, from low farms,
	Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills,
	Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers,
	Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod, poor Tom-
	That's something yet; Edgar I nothing am.
												[Exit.
