GLOUCESTER.
What are you there? Your names?
EDGAR.
Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stocked, punished, and imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his body,
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear.
But mice and rats and such small deer,
Have been Tom’s food for seven long year.
Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend!
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?