The lowest and most abject thing of fortune

4.2.21561Stands still in hope, and is secure from fear.

4.2.31562The lamentable change is from the best;

4.2.41563The worst returns to better. Who comes here?

4.2.51565My father poorly led? Deprived of sight?

4.2.61566The precious stones torn from their bleeding rings!

4.2.71567Something I heard of this inhuman deed

4.2.81568But disbelieved it, as an act too horrid

4.2.91569For the hot hell of a cursed woman's fury.

4.2.101570When will the measure of my woes be full?

Revenge, thou art afoot, success attend thee.

4.2.121572Well have I sold my eyes, if the event

4.2.131573Prove happy for the injured king.

O, my good lord, I have been your tenant and your father's

4.2.151575Tenant these fourscore years.

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

4.2.171577Thy comforts can do me no good at all,

4.2.181578Thee they may hurt.

You cannot see your way.

I have no way, and therefore want no eyes.

4.2.211581I stumbled when I saw. O dear son Edgar,

4.2.221582The food of thy abused father's wrath,

4.2.231583Might I but live to see thee in my touch

4.2.241584I'd say I had eyes again.

Alas, he's sensible that I was wronged,

4.2.261586And should I own myself, his tender heart

4.2.271587Would break betwixt the extremes of grief and joy.

How now, who's there?

A charity for poor Tom. Play fair, and defy the foul

4.2.301590fiend.

4.2.311591O gods! And must I still pursue this trade,

4.2.321593Trifling beneath such loads of misery?

'Tis poor mad Tom.

In the late storm I such a fellow saw,

4.2.351596Which made me think a man a worm.

4.2.361597Where is the lunatic?

Here, my lord.

Get thee now away. If for my sake

4.2.391600Thou wilt overtake us hence a mile or two

4.2.401601In the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love,

4.2.411602And bring some covering for this naked wretch

4.2.421603Whom I'll entreat to lead me.

Alack, my lord, he's mad.

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

4.2.451606Do as I bid thee.

I'll bring him the best apparel that I have

4.2.471608Come on it what will.

Sirrah, naked fellow.

Poor Tom's a cold -- I cannot fool it longer,

4.2.501612And yet I must -- bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

4.2.511613Believe it Poor Tom even weeps his blind to see them.

Know'st thou the way to Dover?

Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor Tom has

4.2.541616been scared out of his good wits. Bless every true man's son from

4.2.551617the foul fiend.

Here, take this purse; that I am wretched

4.2.571619Makes thee the happier, heaven deal so still.

4.2.581620Thus let the griping usurer's hoard be scattered,

4.2.591621So distribution shall undo excess,

4.2.601622And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?

Ay, master.

There is a cliff, whose high and bending head

4.2.631625Looks dreadfully down on the roaring deep.

4.2.641626Bring me but to the very brink of it,

4.2.651627And I'll repair the poverty thou bear'st

4.2.661628With something rich about me. From that place

4.2.671629I shall no leading need.

Give me thy arm. Poor Tom shall guide thee.

Soft, for I hear the tread of passengers.

Ah me! Your fear's too true, it was the king.

4.2.711634I spoke but now with some that met him

4.2.721635As mad as the vexed sea, singing aloud,

4.2.731636Crowned with rank fumiter and furrow weeds,

4.2.741637With berries, burdocks, violets, daisies, poppies,

4.2.751638And all the idle flowers that grow

4.2.761639In our sustaining corn. Conduct me to him

4.2.771640To prove my last endeavors to restore him,

4.2.781641And heaven so prosper thee.

I will, good lady.

4.2.801643Ha, Gloster here! -- Turn, poor dark man, and

4.2.811644hear

4.2.821645A friend's condolement, who at sight of thine

4.2.831646Forgets his own distress, thy old true Kent.

How, Kent? From whence returned?

I have not since my banishment been absent,

4.2.861649But in disguise followed the abandoned king.

4.2.871650'Twas me thou saw'st with him in the late storm.

Let me embrace thee. Had I eyes I now

4.2.891652Should weep for joy, but let this trickling blood

4.2.901653Suffice instead of tears.

O misery!

4.2.921655To whom shall I complain, or in what language?

4.2.931656Forgive, O wretched man, the piety

4.2.941657That brought thee to this pass, 'twas I that caused it.

4.2.951658I cast me at thy feet, and beg of thee

4.2.961659To crush these weeping eyes to equal darkness,

4.2.971660If that will give thee any recompense.

Was ever season so distressed as this?

I think Cordelia's voice! Easy, pious princess,

4.2.1001664And take a dark man's blessing.

Oh, my Edgar,

4.2.1021666My virtue's now grown guilty, works the bane

4.2.1031667Of those that do befriend me. Heaven forsakes me,

4.2.1041668And when you look that way, it is but just

4.2.1051669That you should hate me too.

O waive this cutting speech, and spare to wound

4.2.1071671A heart that's on the rack.

No longer cloud thee, Kent, in that disguise.

4.2.1091673There's business for thee and of noblest weight.

4.2.1101674Our injured country is at length in arms,

4.2.1111675Urged by the king's inhuman wrongs and mine,

4.2.1121676And only want a chief to lead them on.

4.2.1131677That task be thine.

Brave Britons, then there's life in it yet.

Then have we one cast for our fortune yet.

4.2.1161681Come, princess, I'll bestow you with the king,

4.2.1171682Then on the spur to head these forces.

4.2.1181683Farewell, good Gloster, to our conduct trust.

And be your cause as prosperous as 'tis just.