"In, boy; go first....
Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,..
defend you From seasons such as these? O! I have ta'en
Too little care of this. Take physic, Pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,..."
(Act III, Scene 4)

	Edgar
	Albany
	Kent
	Lear
	Cornwall

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