Thee they may hurt.

Old Man.
You cannot see your way.

Glou.
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'd say I had eyes again!

Old Man.
How now! Who's there?

Edg.
[Aside.] O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at the worst'?
I am worse than e'er I was.

Old Man.
'Tis poor mad Tom.

Edg.
[Aside.] And worse I may be yet. The worst is not
So long as we can say 'This is the worst.'

Old Man.
Fellow, where goest?