To lead him where he would. His roguish madness

Allows itself to anything.

THIRD SERVANT

Go thou. I’ll fetch some flax and whites of eggs

To apply to his bleeding face. Now heaven help him!

Exeunt severally

Sc. 15 Enter Edgar as a Bedlam beggar

EDGAR

Yet better thus and known to be contemned

Than still contemned and flattered. To be worst,

The low’st and most dejected thing of fortune,

Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear.

The lamentable change is from the best;

The worst returns to laughter.

Enter the Duke of Gloucester led by an Old Man

Who’s here? My father, parti-eyed? World, world, O

world!

But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,

Life would not yield to age.

⌈Edgar stands aside⌉

OLD MAN (to Gloucester) O my good lord,

I have been your tenant and your father’s tenant

This fourscore—

GLOUCESTER

Away, get thee away, good friend, be gone.

Thy comforts can do me no good at all;

Thee they may hurt.

OLD MAN

Alack, sir, you cannot see your way.

GLOUCESTER

I have no way, and therefore want no eyes.

I stumbled when I saw. Full oft ’tis seen

Our means secure us, and our mere defects

Prove our commodities. Ah dear son Edgar,

The food of thy abused father’s wrath—

Might I but live to see thee in my touch

I’d say I had eyes again.

OLD MAN How now? Who’s there?

EDGAR (aside)

O gods! Who is’t can say ‘I am at the worst?

I am worse than e’er I was.

OLD MAN ’Tis poor mad Tom.

EDGAR (aside)

And worse I may be yet. The worst is not

As long as we can say ‘This is the worst.’

OLD MAN (to Edgar) Fellow, where goest?

GLOUCESTER Is it a beggarman?

OLD MAN Madman and beggar too.

GLOUCESTER

A has some reason, else he could not beg.

In the last night’s storm I such a fellow saw,

Which made me think a man a worm. My son

Came then into my mind, and yet my mind

Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more

since.

As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods;

They kill us for their sport.

EDGAR (aside) How should this be?

Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,

Ang’ring itself and others.

⌈He comes forward⌉

Bless thee, master.

GLOUCESTER

Is that the naked fellow?

OLD MAN Ay, my lord.

GLOUCESTER

Then prithee, get thee gone. If for my sake

Thou wilt o‘ertake us hence a mile or twain

I’th’ way toward Dover, do it for ancient love,

And bring some covering for this naked soul,

Who I’ll entreat to lead me.

OLD MAN Alack, sir, he is mad.

GLOUCESTER

’Tis the time’s plague when madmen lead the blind.

Do as I bid thee; or rather do thy pleasure.

Above the rest, be gone.

OLD MAN

I’ll bring him the best ’parel that I have,

Come on’t what will. Exit

GLOUCESTER Sirrah, naked fellow!

EDGAR

Poor Tom’s a-cold. I cannot dance it farther.

GLOUCESTER Come hither, fellow.

EDGAR Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

GLOUCESTER Know’st thou the way to Dover?

EDGAR Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his good wits. Bless thee, goodman, from the foul fiend. Five fiends have been in Poor Tom at once, as Obidicut of lust, Hobbididence prince of dumbness, Mahu of stealing, Modo of murder, Flibbertigibbet of mocking and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids and waiting-women. So bless thee, master.

GLOUCESTER

Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens’ plagues

Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched

Makes thee the happier. Heavens deal so still.

Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man

That stands your ordinance, that will not see

Because he does not feel, feel your power quickly.

So distribution should undo excess,

And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?

EDGAR Ay, master.

GLOUCESTER

There is a cliff whose high and bending head

Looks saucily in the confined deep.

Bring me but to the very brim of it

And I’ll repair the misery thou dost bear

With something rich about me. From that place

I shall no leading need.

EDGAR Give me thy arm.

Poor Tom shall lead thee.

Exit Edgar guiding Gloucester

Sc. 16 Enter ⌈at one door⌉ Gonoril and Edmund the bastard

GONORIL

Welcome, my lord. I marvel our mild husband

Not met us on the way.

Enter ⌈at another door⌉ Oswald the steward

Now, where’s your master?

OSWALD

Madam, within; but never man so changed.

I told him of the army that was landed;

He smiled at it. I told him you were coming;

His answer was ‘The worse.’ Of Gloucester’s treachery

And of the loyal service of his son

When I informed him, then he called me sot,

And told me I had turned the wrong side out.

What he should most defy seems pleasant to him;

What like, offensive.

GONORIL (to Edmund) Then shall you go no further.

It is the cowish terror of his spirit

That dares not undertake. He’ll not feel wrongs

Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way

May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother.

Hasten his musters and conduct his powers.

I must change arms at home, and give the distaff

Into my husband’s hands. This trusty servant