Glou.
Is it a beggar-man?

Old Man.
Madman and beggar too.

Glou.
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 are we to the gods,--
They kill us for their sport.

Edg.
[Aside.] How should this be?--
Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
Angering itself and others.--Bless thee, master!

Glou.
Is that the naked fellow?

Old Man.
Ay, my lord.

Glou.
Then pr'ythee get thee gone: if for my sake
Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain,