Her army is mov'd on.

Edg.
I thank you, sir.

[Exit Gentleman.]

Glou.
You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please!

Edg.
Well pray you, father.

Glou.
Now, good sir, what are you?

Edg.
A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows;
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
I'll lead you to some biding.

Glou.
Hearty thanks:
The bounty and the benison of heaven
To boot, and boot!

[Enter Oswald.]