ey drowned the earth, that no token might remain of
any such ungrateful animal as man. The old king was now left with no
other companion than the poor fool, who still abided with him, with his
merry conceits striving to outjest misfortune, saying it was but a
naughty night to swim in, and truly the king had better go in and ask
his daughter's blessing:

But he that has a little tiny wit
With heigh ho, the wind and the rain!
Must make content with his fortunes fit
Though the rain it raineth every day:

and swearing it was a brave night to cool a lady's pride.

Thus poorly accompanied, this once great monarch was found by his
ever-faithful servant the good earl of Kent, now transformed to Caius,
who ever followed close at his side, though the king did not know him
to be the earl; and he said: 'Alas! sir, are you here? creatures that
love night, love not such nights as these. This dreadful storm has
driven the beasts to their hiding places. Man's nature cannot endure
the affliction or the fear.' And Lear rebuked him and said, these
lesser evils were not felt, where a greater malady was taxed. When the
mind is at ease, the body has leisure to be delicate, but the temper in
his mind did take all feeling else from his senses, but of that which
beat at his heart. And he spoke of filial ingratitude, and said it was
all one as if the mouth should tear the hand for lifting food to it;
for parents were hands and food and everything to children.

But the good Caius still persisting in his entreaties that the king
would not stay out in the open air, at last persuaded him to enter a
little wretched hovel which stood upon the heath, where the fool first
entering, suddenly ran back terrified, saying that he had seen a
spirit. But upon examination this spirit proved to be nothing more than
a poor Bedlam beggar, who had crept into this deserted hovel for
shelter, and with his talk about devils frighted the fool, one of those
poor lunatics who are either mad, or feign to be so, the better to
extort charity from the compassionate country people, who go about the
country, calling themselves poor Tom and poor Turlygood, saying: 'Who
gives anything to poor Tom?' sticking pins and nails and sprigs of
rosemary into their arms to make them bleed; and with such horrible
actions, partly by prayers, and partly with lunatic curses, they move
or terrify the ignorant countryfolks into giving them alms. This poor
fellow was such a one; and