Act II, Scene iii: The open Country.
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| | Edg.: | |
| | I heard myself proclaim'd; | |
| | And by the happy hollow of a tree | |
| | Escap'd the hunt. No port is free; no place | |
| | That guard and most unusual vigilance | |
| | Does not attend my taking. While I may scape, | |
| | I will preserve myself: and am bethought | |
| | To take the basest and most poorest shape | |
| | That ever penury, in contempt of man, | |
| | Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth; | |
| | Blanket my loins; elf all my hair in knots; | |
| | And with presented nakedness outface | |
| | The winds and persecutions of the sky. | |
| | The country gives me proof and precedent | |
| | Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, | |
| | Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms | |
| | Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary; | |
| | And with this horrible object, from low farms, | |
| | Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills, | |
| | Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, | |
| | Enforce their charity.—Poor Turlygod! poor Tom! | |
| | That's something yet:—Edgar I nothing am. | |
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