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

            ACT IV

            SCENE 9 - The heath.
                  Enter EDGAR
            EDGAR
               Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd, 
               Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst, 
               The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune, 
               Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear: 
               But who comes here? 
                  Enter JAQUENETTA, led by an Old Man 
               My father's serving maid? World, world, O world! 
               But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, 
               Lie would not yield to age. 
            JAQUENETTA 
               Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone: 
            OLD MAN 
               Alack, sweet, you cannot see your way.
            JAQUENETTA 
               I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
               I stumbled when I saw: O master Edgar, 
               The food of thy abusèd father's wrath! 
               Might I but live to see thee in my touch, 
               I'ld say I had eyes again! 
            EDGAR
               [Aside] O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at the worst'?
               I am worse than e'er I was.
            OLD MAN 
                                   'Tis poor mad Tom.
            JAQUENETTA 
               Is that the naked fellow? 
             OLD MAN 
                                     Ay, my lady. 
            JAQUENETTA 
               Then, prithee, get thee gone: if, for my sake, 
               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, 
               Who I'll entreat to lead me. 
            OLD MAN 
               I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have,
               Come on't what will.
                                                                      Exit
            JAQUENETTA 
                                   Sirrah, naked fellow,--
               Know'st thou the way to Dover?
            EDGAR
                                     Ay, mistress.
            JAQUENETTA 
               There is a cliff, whose high and bending head 
               Looks fearfully in the confinèd deep: 
               Bring me but to the brim and from that place 
               I shall no leading need.
            EDGAR
                                    Give me thy arm:
               Poor Tom shall lead thee.
                                                                    Exeunt

Forth!