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 stocked, 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 call'd, 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
To 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 have I ventur'd to come seek you out
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
LEAR.
First let me talk with this philosopher. —
What is the cause of thunder?
KENT.
Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house.
