Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
Angering itself and others.—[To Gloucester.] Bless thee, master!
Glo. Is that the naked fellow?
Old Man. Ay, my lord.
Glo. Then, prithee, get thee gone. If, for my sake, 41
Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,
I' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring some covering for this naked soul 44
Who I'll entreat to lead me.
Old Man. Alack, sir! he is mad.
Glo. 'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure;
Above the rest, be gone. 48
Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,
Come on 't what will. Exit.
Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow,—
Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. [Aside.] I cannot daub it further. 52
Glo. Come hither, fellow.
Edg. [Aside.] And yet I must. Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.
Glo. Know'st thou the way to Dover? 55
Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-
path. Poor Tom hath been scared out of his
good wits: bless thee, good man's son, from the
foul fiend! [Five fiends have been in poor Tom
at once; of lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididance,
prince of dumbness; Mahu, of stealing; Modo,
of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and
52 daub: overpaint reality
62 mopping and mowing: making grimaces
