him smell His way to Dover. How is't, my lord? how look you? I have received a hurt: follow me, lady. Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace: Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm. I'll never care what wickedness I do, If this man come to good. If she live long, And in the end meet the old course of death, Women will all turn monsters. Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam To lead him where he would: his roguish madness Allows itself to any thing. Go thou: I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him! 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: The lamentable change is from the best; The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then, Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace! The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here? My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Lie would not yield to age. O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant, these fourscore years. Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone: Thy comforts can do me no good at all; Thee they may hurt. Alack, sir, you cannot see your way. I have no way, and therefore want no eyes; I stumbled when I saw: full oft 'tis seen, Our means secure us, and our mere defects Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar, The food of thy abused father's wrath! Might I but live to see thee in my touch, I'ld say I had eyes again! How now! Who's there? O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at the worst'? I am worse than e'er I was. 'Tis poor mad Tom. And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.' Fellow, where goest? Is it a beggar-man? Madman and beggar too. He has some reason, else he could not beg. I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw; Which made me think a man a worm: my son Came then into my mind; and yet my mind Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard more since. As flies to wanton boys