:06:04
defend you from seasons such as these?
:06:08
O, I have taken too little care
of this!
:06:13
Take physic,
:06:18
pomp!
:06:20
Expose thyself to feel
:06:23
what wretches feel.
:06:33
Fathom and half!
Poor Tom!
:06:38
Come not in here, nuncle,
here's a spirit.
:06:43
Who's there? What art thou that
dost grumble i'the straw? Come forth.
:06:49
Away!
The foul fiend follows me!
:06:54
Through the sharp hawthorn
blows the cold wind.
:06:59
Go to thy cold bed,
and warm thee.
:07:05
Hast thou given all to thy two
daughters? And art thou come to this?
:07:10
Who gives any thing to poor Tom?
:07:13
Whom the foul fiend hath led through
fire and flame, over bog,
:07:17
made him course his own shadow
:07:21
for a traitor.
:07:23
Bless thy five wits!
:07:31
Didst thou give 'em all?
Couldst thou save nothing?
:07:34
He reserved his blanket.
:07:36
Else we had been all shamed.
:07:39
- He hath no daughters, sir.
- Death, traitor!
:07:49
Is it the fashion,
:07:52
that discarded fathers should have
thus little mercy on their flesh?
:07:57
Judicious punishment!