Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire; that hath laid-knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew; fet ratfbane by his porridge, made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horfe, over four inch'd bridges, to course his own fhadow for a traitor,

blefs thy five wits; Tom's a-cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de;-blefs thee from whirl-winds, ftar-blafting, and taking; do poor Tom fome charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there, and here again, and there. [Storm ftill. Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?

Could't thou fave nothing? did'ft thou give 'em all? Fool. Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, elfe we had been all fhamed.

Lear. Now all the plagues, that in the pendulous air Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters! Kent. He hath no daughters, Sir.

Lear. Death! traitor, nothing could have fubdu'd nature

criminals brought to the ftake, and the trick of devil-bunting brought into ridicule; Dr. Harfenet (who was chaplain to archbishop Bancroft, and himself afterwards archbishop of York) wrote a smart narrative of this whole proceeding under the following title: "A declaration of "egregious popish impoftures, to withdraw the hearts of her majefty's fubjects from their allegiance, &c. under the pretence of caft"ing out devils, practis'd by Edmunds, alias Wefton, a jefuit; and divers Romish priests, his wicked affociates. Whereunto are annex'd the copies of the confeffions and examinations of the parties "themfelves, which were pretended to be poffefs'd and difpoffefs'd, "&c. Printed by James Roberts, in 1603."- This tranfaction was fo rife in every body's mouth, upon the acceffion of King James the it to the crown; that our poet thought proper to make his court, by helping forward the ridicule of it. I need only obferve now, that Edgar thro' all his frenzy fuppofes himself poffefs'd by fiends; and that the greateft part of his diffembled lunacy, the names of his devils, and the defcriptive circumstances he alludes to in his own cafe, are all drawn from this pamphlet, and the confeffions of the poor deluded wretches. The addrefs of our author in this popular piece of fatire, and that excentrick madness he has built upon it, made me imagine, the ftating a fact, fo little known, might apologize for the length of this note on the occafion.

To

To fuch a lowness, but his unkind daughters.
Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot
Thofe pelican daughters.

Edg. Pillicock fat on pillicock-hill, alow, alow, loo, loo!

t

Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools, and madmen.

Edg. Take heed o' th' foul fiend; obey thy parents; keep thy word juftly; fwear not; commit not with man's fworn fpoufe; fet not thy fweet-heart on proud array. Tom's a-cold.

Lear. What haft thou been?

Edg. A ferving-man, proud in heart and mind; that (30) curl'd my hair, wore gloves in my cap, ferv'd the luft of my miftrefs's heart, and did the act of darkness with her: fwore as many oaths as I fpake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heav'n. One that slept

(30) that curl'd my hair, wore gloves in my cap;] A learned gentleman, whom I have no privilege to name, intimated to me, that Shakespeare's reading muft have been--wore cloves in my cap,---alluding to the prevailing mode, in thofe days, among the fpruce gallants, of quilting Spices and other perfumes within the linings of their hats. I thought it but juftice to mention a hint fo ferviceably defign'd; tho', with deference, I must be oblig'd to diffent in opinion, and think that the text calls for no alteration. It was a frequet cuftom to wear gloves in the hat, upon three different motives; either as the favour of a mistress; in honour of fome other refpected friend; or as a mark to be challeng'd by an adverfary where a duel was depending. And to this custom in all these three cafes, has our author at different times alluded. King Richard II.

His answer was, he would unto the stews,

And from the common'ft creature pluck a glove,
And wear it as a favour.

King Henry V.

Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns,
And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow,
And wear it for an honour in thy cap.

And, again, in the fame play.

K. Henry. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet; then if ever thou durft acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel. Will. Here's my glove.

in

in the contriving luft, and awak'd to do it. Wine lov'd I deeply; dice dearly; and in woman, out-paramour'd the Turk. Falfe of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in floth, fox in ftealth, wolf in greedinefs, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of thoes, nor the ruftling of filks, betray thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lender's books, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: fays fuum, mun, nonny, dolphin, my boy, boy, Seffey: let him trot by. [Storm ftill.

Lear. Thou wert better in thy grave, than to anfwer with thy uncover'd body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than this? Confider him well. Thou ow'ft the worm no filk, the beaft no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three of us are fophifticated. Thou art the thing itfelf; unaccommodated man is no more but fuch a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings: come, unbutton here. [Tearing off his clothes.

Fool. Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night to fwim in. Now a little fire in a wild field, were like an old letcher's heart, a small spark, and all the reft on's body cold; look, here comes a walking fire.

Edg. This is the foul Flibbertigibbet; he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives the web and the pin, fquints the eye, and makes the hair-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature of the earth.

St. Withold footed thrice the Wold; (31)
He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold,

(31) Swithold footed thrice the old,] What idea the editors had, or whether any, of footing the old, I cannot pretend to determine. My ingenious friend Mr. Bishop faw it must be Wold, which fignifies a down, or champion ground, hilly and void of wood. And as to St. Withold, we find him again mention'd in our author's troublesom reign of King John, in two parts:

Sweet St. Withold, of thy lenity,
Defend us from extremity.

Bid her alight, and her troth plight, And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee. Kent. How fares your Grace?

Enter Glo'fter, with a torch.

Lear. What's he?

Kent. Who's there? what is't you feek?
Glo. What are you there? your names?

Edg. Poor Tom, that eats the fwimming frog, the toad, the tod-pole; the wall-newt, and the waternewt; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for fallets; fwallows the old rat, and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the ftanding pool; who is whipt from tything to tything, and ftock-punish'd, and imprison'd: who hath had three fuits to his back, fix fhirts to his body;

1

Horfe to ride, and weapon to wear;

But mice, and rats, and such small deer
Have been Tom's food for feven long year.

Beware my follower. Peace, Smolkin, peace, thou fiend?
Glo. What, hath your Grace no better company?
Edg. The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman, Mode
he's call'd, and Mabu.

Glo. Our flesh and blood, my Lord, is grown fo vile, That it doth hate what gets it.

Edg. Tom's a-cold.

Glo. Go in with me; my duty cannot fuffer
Tobey 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 feek you out,
And bring you, where both fire and food is ready.
Lear. First, let me talk with this Philofopher;-
What is the cause of thunder?

Kent. My good Lord, take his offer,

Go into th' house.

Lear. I'll talk a word with this fame learned Theban? What is your study?

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin.

Lear

Lear. Let us afk you one word in private.

Kent. Importune him once more to go, my Lord, His Wits begin t' unfettle.

Glo. Can't thou blame him?

[Storm fill. His Daughters feek his death: ah, that good Kent ! He faid, it would be thus; poor banish'd man !→ Thou fay'ft, the King grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend, I'm almoft mad myself; I had a fon,

"Now out-law'd from my blood; he fought my life, But lately, very late; I lov'd him, friend,

No father his fon dearer: true to tell thee,

The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night's this ? I do befeech your Grace.

Lear. O cry you mercy, Sir:

Noble Philofopher, your company.
Edg. Tom's a-cold.

Glo. In, fellow, into th' hovel; keep thee warm.
Lear. Come, let's in all.

Kent. This way, my Lord.

Lear. With him;

I will keep ftill with my Philofopher.

Kent. Good my Lord, footh him; let him take the fellow.

Glo. Take him you on.

Kent. Sirrah, come on; along with us.

Lear. Come, good Athenian.

Glo. No words, no words, hufh.

Edg. Child Rowland to the dark tower came,

His word was ftill, fy, foh, and fum,

I fmell the blood of a British man.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Glofter's Caftle.

Enter Cornwall, and Edmund.

Corn. I
Will have revenge, ere I depart his houfe.
Edm. How, my Lord, I may be cenfur'd, that
Nature thus gives way to loyalty, fomething fears me

to think of.

Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether your

brother's