Page 1854 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all, − [20]
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. [25]
(To the Fool.) In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty, −
Nay, get thee in. I’ll pray, and then I’ll sleep.

(Fool goes in.)
Poor naked wretches, whereso’er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, [30]

Your loop’d and window’d 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, [35]
And show the Heavens more just.

EDGAR
(within) Fathom and half, fathom and half!
Poor Tom!
(The Fool runs out from the hovel.)

FOOL
Come not in here, Nuncle; here’s a spirit.
Help me! help me! [40]

KENT
Give me thy hand. Who’s there?

FOOL