The Tragedy of King Lear. Уильям Шекспир

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The Tragedy of King Lear - Уильям Шекспир


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Let your study

           Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you

           At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,

           And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

        Cor. Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides.

           Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.

           Well may you prosper!

        France. Come, my fair Cordelia.

Exeunt France and Cordelia

        Gon. Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly

           appertains to us both. I think our father will hence

      to-night.

        Reg. That's most certain, and with you; next month with us.

        Gon. You see how full of changes his age is. The observation we

           have made of it hath not been little. He always lov'd our

           sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast

      her

           off appears too grossly.

        Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but

      slenderly

           known himself.

        Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then

           must we look to receive from his age, not alone the

           imperfections of long-ingraffed condition, but therewithal

           the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring

      with

           them.

        Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as

      this

           of Kent's banishment.

        Gon. There is further compliment of leave-taking between France

      and

           him. Pray you let's hit together. If our father carry

      authority

           with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of

      his

           will but offend us.

        Reg. We shall further think on't.

        Gon. We must do something, and i' th' heat.

Exeunt

      Scene II. The Earl of Gloucester's Castle

      Enter [Edmund the] Bastard solus, [with a letter].

        Edm. Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law

           My services are bound. Wherefore should I

           Stand in the plague of custom, and permit

           The curiosity of nations to deprive me,

           For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines

           Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?

           When my dimensions are as well compact,

           My mind as generous, and my shape as true,

           As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us

           With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?

           Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take

           More composition and fierce quality

           Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,

           Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops

           Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well then,

           Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.

           Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund

           As to th' legitimate. Fine word- 'legitimate'!

           Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,

           And my invention thrive, Edmund the base

           Shall top th' legitimate. I grow; I prosper.

           Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

      Enter Gloucester.

        Glou. Kent banish'd thus? and France in choler parted?

           And the King gone to-night? subscrib'd his pow'r?

           Confin'd to exhibition? All this done

           Upon the gad? Edmund, how now? What news?

        Edm. So please your lordship, none.

                                                 [Puts up the letter.]

        Glou. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?

        Edm. I know no news, my lord.

        Glou. What paper were you reading?

        Edm. Nothing, my lord.

        Glou. No? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into

      your

           pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide

           itself. Let's see. Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need

           spectacles.

        Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my

      brother

           that I have not all o'er-read; and for so much as I have

           perus'd, I find it not fit for your o'erlooking.

        Glou. Give me the letter, sir.

        Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents,

      as

           in part I understand them, are to blame.

        Glou. Let's see, let's see!

        Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but

      as

           an essay or taste of my virtue.

        Glou. (reads) 'This policy and reverence of age makes the world

           bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us

           till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle

           and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who

      sways,

           not as it hath power, but as it is suffer'd. Come to me,

      that

           of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I

           wak'd him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and

      live

           the beloved of your brother,

'EDGAR.'

      Hum! Conspiracy? 'Sleep till I wak'd him, you should enjoy half his revenue.' My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain to breed it in? When came this to you? Who brought it? Edm. It was not brought me, my lord: there's the cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet. Glou. You know the character to be your brother's? Edm. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst


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