Lear's Labour's Lost
                                                         copyright © 2007 Jeff Goode

            ACT III

            SCENE 3 - A wood.
                  Enter EDGAR
            EDGAR
               I heard myself proclaim'd; 
               And by the happy hollow of a tree 
               Escaped the hunt. My face I'll grime with filth; 
               Blanket my loins: elf all my hair in knots; 
               The country gives me proof and precedent 
               Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, 
               Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom! 
               That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am. 
                                                                      Exit

Forth!