It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father,
Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours
Of men's impossibility, have preserv'd thee.

Glou.
I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear
Affliction till it do cry out itself,
'Enough, enough,' and die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man; often 'twould say,
'The fiend, the fiend':--he led me to that place.

Edg.
Bear free and patient thoughts.--But who comes here?

[Enter Lear, fantastically dressed up with flowers.]

The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
His master thus.

Lear.
No, they cannot touch me for coining;
I am the king himself.

Edg.
O thou side-piercing sight!

Lear.
Nature 's above art in that respect.--There's your press money.
That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper: draw me a
clothier's yard.--Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace;--this piece