:21:02
As flies to wanton boys,
are we to the gods.
:21:05
They kill us for their sport.
:21:09
I will entreat him to lead me.
:21:12
Alack, sir, he is mad.
:21:17
Tis the times' plague,
when madmen lead the blind.
:21:23
- Sirrah, naked fellow!
- Poor Tom's a-cold.
:21:28
Come hither, fellow.
:21:31
I cannot daub it further.
:21:34
And yet I must.
:21:41
Bless thy sweet eyes,
they bleed.
:21:44
Know'st thou the way to Dover?
:21:47
Both stile and gate,
horse-way and foot-path.
:21:51
Poor Tom hath been scared. Bless
thee, good man, from the foul fiend.
:21:56
Here, take this purse.
:21:59
- Dost thou know Dover?
- Ay, master.
:22:01
There's a cliff, whose high and
bending head looks in the deep.
:22:06
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
and I'll repair thou the misery.
:22:10
From that place
I shall no leading need.
:22:17
Give me thy arm.
Poor Tom shall lead thee.
:22:53
Welcome, my lord.
:22:55
I marvel our mild husband
not met us on the way.
:22:58
- Now, where's your master?
- Within, but never man so changed.