the king.
I will seek him.
Go you, and maintain talk with
the duke,
that my charity be not
of him perceived.
Pray you, be careful.
This seems a fair deserving,
and must draw me that
which my father loses.
The younger rises when the old falls.
End of Part OnePart Two
Blow, winds,
and crack your cheeks!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout!
And thou, all-shaking thunder, strike
flat the thick rotundity o'the world!
Good nuncle, in,
and ask thy daughters' blessing.
Here's a night pities
neither wise man nor fool.
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire,
are my daughters.
I tax you not with unkindness.
I never gave you kingdom,
called you children.
You owe me no subscription.
Then let fall
your horrible pleasure!
But yet I call you servile ministers
that have with two pernicious
daughters joined
your high-engendered battles
gainst a head so old and white
as this.
O! 'tis foul!
He that has a house
to put's head in
has a good head-piece.
The cod-piece that will house
Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse, -
So beggars marry many.
No, I will be the pattern of
all patience.
I will say nothing.
Who's there?
Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece,
that's a wise man and a fool.
Alas, sir, are you here?
Tremble, thou wretch!
That hast within thee
undivulged crimes,
unwhipt ofjustice!
Hide thee, thou bloody hand,
thou perjured!
Cry these dreadful summoners grace!
I'm a man more sinned against
than sinning.
Gracious my lord,
hard by here is a hovel.
My wits begin to turn.
Come on, my boy, how dost, my boy?
Art cold?
I am cold myself.
Poor fool and knave,
I have one part in my heart
that's sorry yet for thee.
Here is the place, my lord, enter.
- Let me alone.
- Enter here.
Wilt break my heart?
I had rather break my own.
Good my lord, enter.
Thou think 'tis much that this
contentious storm invades us?
Good my lord, enter here.
Prithee, go in thyself,
seek thine own ease.
This tempest will not give me leave
to ponder on things that hurt me more.
But I'll go in.
In, boy, go first.
You houseless poverty.
I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.
Poor naked wretches,
that bide the pelting of this
pitiless storm,
how shall your houseless heads
and unfed sides,
your loopt and window'd raggedness,
defend you from seasons such as these?
O, I have taken too little care
of this!
Take physic,
pomp!
Expose thyself to feel
what wretches feel.
Fathom and half!
Poor Tom!
Come not in here, nuncle,
here's a spirit.
Who's there? What art thou that
dost grumble i'the straw? Come forth.
Away!
The foul fiend follows me!
Through the sharp hawthorn
blows the cold wind.
Go to thy cold bed,
and warm thee.
Hast thou given all to thy two
daughters? And art thou come to this?
Who gives any thing to poor Tom?
Whom the foul fiend hath led through
fire and flame, over bog,
made him course his own shadow
for a traitor.
Bless thy five wits!
Didst thou give 'em all?
Couldst thou save nothing?
He reserved his blanket.
Else we had been all shamed.
- He hath no daughters, sir.
- Death, traitor!
Is it the fashion,
that discarded fathers should have
thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment!
Twas this flesh begot
those pelican daughters.
Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill -
Halloo, halloo, loo, loo...
This cold night will turn us all
to fools and madmen.
Take heed of the foul fiend.
Tom's a-cold.
Why, thou wert better in thy grave
than to answer with thy uncovered
body this extremity of the skies.
Is man no more
than this?
Consider him well.
Thou owest the worm no silk,
the beast no hide.
Here's three on's are sophisticated!
Thou art the thing itself.
Unaccommodated man
is no more but such a poor,
bare, forkt animal
as thou art.
Off, off!
You lendings!
Come, unbutton here.
Prithee, nuncle, be contented,
tis a naughty night to swim in.
- How fares your Grace?
- It shall be done!
I will arraign them straight!
Come, sit thou