Page 1857 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

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, [95] boy; sessa! let him trot by.
(Storm still.)

LEAR
Thou wert better in a grave than to answer with thy uncover’d 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
[100] 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.)

FOOL
Prithee, Nuncle, be contented; ’tis a naughty night [105] 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.

Enter Gloucester, with a torch.

EDGAR
This is the foul Flibbertigibbet: he begins at curfew, and walks till the first
cock; he gives the web and the [110] pin, squinies the eye, and makes the
harelip; mildews the

white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth.
Swithold footed thrice the old;
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold;
Bid her alight, [115]

And her troth plight,
And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!

KENT
How fares your Grace?

LEAR
What’s he?