Act II, Scene 3

The open country.

Enter Edgar.

• Edgar. 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 1255
  Does not attend my taking. Whiles 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, 1260
  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, 1265
  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, sheepcotes, and mills,
  Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, 1270
  Enforce their charity. 'Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!'
  That's something yet! Edgar I nothing am. Exit.