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
T’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.
LEAR.
I’ll talk a word with this same learned Theban.
What is your study?
EDGAR.
How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin.
LEAR.
Let me ask you one word in private.