William Shakespeare: The Tragedy of King Lear

ACT III. 4. Scene IV. A part of the Heath with a Hovel. Storm continues. (continued)

Fool.
Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night 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.

Edg.
This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins at curfew,
and walks till the first cock; he gives the web and the pin,
squints 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 nightmare, and her nine-fold;
     Bid her alight
     And her troth plight,
   And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!

Kent.
How fares your grace?

[Enter Gloster with a torch.]

Lear.
What's he?

Kent.
Who's there? What is't you seek?

Glou.
What are you there? Your names?

Edg.
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 weapons 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!

Glou.
What, hath your grace no better company?

Edg.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman:
Modo he's call'd, and Mahu.

Glou.
Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile
That it doth hate what gets it.

Edg.
Poor Tom's a-cold.