Direct reading · Original
Section 599
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Edgar.
Who giues any thing to poore Tom? Whom
the foule fiend hath led through Fire, and through
Flame,
through Sword, and Whirle‐Poole, o're
Bog, and Quagmire,
that hath laid Kniues vnder his
Pillow, and Halters
in his Pue, set Rats‐bane by
his Porredge, made him
Proud of heart, to ride on a Bay
trotting Horse, ouer foure
incht Bridges, to course his
owne shadow for a Traitor.
Blisse thy fiue Wits, Toms a cold. O do, de, do, de, do, de,
blisse thee from Whirle‐Windes,