The Heath. Before a Hovel
 Enter LEAR, KENT disguised, and FOOL.

Kent	Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter;
	The tyranny of the open night's too rough
	For nature to endure.
												[Storm still.
Lear							Let me alone.

Kent	Good my lord, enter here.

Lear								Wilt break my heart?

Kent	I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.

Lear	Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm
	Invades us to the skin; so 'tis to thee;
	But where the greater malady is fixed
	The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear;
	But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea
	Thou'dst meet the bear i'th'mouth. When the mind's free
	The body's delicate; this tempest in my mind
	Doth from my senses take all feeling else
	Save what beats there-filial ingratitude!
	Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
	For lifting food to't? But I will punish home.
	No, I will weep no more. In such a night
	To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure.
	In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!
	Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all!
	O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
	No more of that.

Kent						Good my lord, enter here.

Lear	Prithee go in thyself; seek thine own ease.
	This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
	On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in.
	[To the FOOL.] In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty-
	Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.
												[Exit FOOL into the hovel.
	Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
	That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
	How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
	Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you
	From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
	Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
	Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
	That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
	And show the heavens more just.

Edgar	[Within the hovel.] Fathom and half! Fathom and half! Poor 
	Tom!
                       Enter FOOL, from the hovel.

Fool	Come not in here, Nuncle; here's a spirit.
	Help me, help me!

Kent	Give me thy hand. Who's there?

Fool	A spirit, a spirit! He says his name's Poor Tom.

Kent	What art thou that dost grumble there i'th'straw?
	Come forth.

               Enter EDGAR disguised as Poor Tom, a madman.

Edgar	Away! The foul fiend follows me!
	Through the sharp hawthorn blow the cold winds.
	Humh! Go to thy bed and warm thee.

Lear	Didst thou give all to thy daughters? And art thou come to 
	this?

Edgar	Who gives anything to poor Tom?-whom the foul fiend hath 
	led through fire and through flame, through ford and 
	whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives 
	under his pillow and halters in his pew; set ratsbane by 
	his porridge; made him proud of heart to ride on a bay 
	trotting-horse over four-inched bridges to course his own 
	shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold. O, 
	do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-
	blasting, and taking. Do poor Tom some charity, whom the 
	foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there, 
	and there again, and there.
												[Storm still.

Lear	What, has his daughters brought him to this pass?
	Couldst thou save nothing? Wouldst thou give 'em all?

Fool	Nay, he reserved a blanket; else we had been all shamed.

Lear	Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air
	Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters!

Kent	He hath no daughters, sir.

Lear	Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature
	To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.
	Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
	Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
	Judicious punishment! 'Twas this flesh begot
	Those pelican daughters.

Edgar	Pillicock sat on Pillicock hill:
	Alow, alow, loo, loo!

Fool	This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.

Edgar	Take heed o'th'foul fiend; obey thy parents, keep thy word 
	justly, swear not, commit not with man's sworn spouse, set 
	not thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom's a-cold.

Lear	What hast thou been?

Edgar	A servingman, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair, 
	wore gloves in my cap, served the lust of my mistress' 
	heart, and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many 
	oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of 
	heaven; one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked 
	to do it. Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly, and in woman 
	out-paramoured the Turk; false of heart, light of ear, 
	bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in 
	greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the 
	creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor 
	heart to woman: keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out 
	of plackets, thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul 
	fiend.
			Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind,
			Says suum, mun, hey no nonny.
			Dolphin my boy, boy, sessa! Let him trot by.
												[Storm still.

Lear	Thou wert better in a grave than to answer with thy 
	uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more 
	than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, 
	the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. 
	Ha, here's three on's are sophisticated; thou art the thing 
	itself! Unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, 
	bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! 
	Come, unbutton here.
												[Tearing off his clothes.

                     Enter GLOUCESTER, with a torch.

Fool	Prithee, Nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night to swim 
	in. Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old 
	lecher's heart -a small spark, all the rest on's body 
	cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.

Edgar	This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet. He begins at 
	curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives the web and 
	the pin, squints the eye, and makes the harelip; mildews 
	the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.

	[Sings.]	Swithold footed thrice the 'old;
			He met the nightmare and her ninefold;
				Bid her alight,
				And her troth plight,
			And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!

Kent	How fares your grace?

Lear	What's he?

Kent	Who's there? What is't you seek?

Gloucester	What are you there? Your names?

Edgar	Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the 
	todpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of 
	his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for 
	sallets, swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog, drinks the 
	green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from 
	tithing to tithing, and stock-punished and imprisoned; who 
	hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his body,
		Horse to ride, and weapons to wear;
		But mice and rats and such small deer
		Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
	Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend!

Gloucester	What, hath your grace no better company?

Edgar	The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman; Modo he's called, 
	and Mahu.

Gloucester	Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile
	That it doth hate what gets it.

Edgar									Poor Tom's a-cold.

Gloucester	Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer
	T'obey in all your daughters' hard commands;
	Though their injunction be to bar my doors
	And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
	Yet I have ventured to come seek you out
	And bring you where both fire and food is ready.

Lear	First let me talk with this philosopher.
	[To EDGAR.] What is the cause of thunder?

Kent	Good my lord, take his offer; go into th'house.

Lear	I'll talk a word with this same learnd Theban.
	[To EDGAR.] What is your study?

Edgar	How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin.

Lear	Let me ask you one word in private.

Kent	Importune him once more to go, my lord;
	His wits begin t'unsettle.

Gloucester								Canst thou blame him?
												[Storm still.
	His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent;
	He said it would be thus-poor banished man!
	Thou sayst the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend,
	I am almost mad myself. I had a son,
	Now outlawed from my blood; he sought my life
	But lately, very late. I loved him, friend,
	No father his son dearer. True to tell thee,
	The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this!
	I do beseech your grace-

Lear								O, cry you mercy, sir.
	[To EDGAR.] Noble philosopher, your company.

Edgar	Tom's a-cold.

Gloucester	In, fellow, there, into th'hovel; keep thee warm.

Lear	Come, let's in all.

Kent						This way, my lord.

Lear										With him;
	I will keep still with my philosopher.

Kent	Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.

Gloucester	Take him you on.

Kent	Sirrah, come on; go along with us.

Lear	Come, good Athenian.

Gloucester	No words, no words-hush!

Edgar	Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
	His word was still 'Fie, foh, and fum,
	I smell the blood of a British man.'
												[Exeunt.
