King Lear - The Original Classic Edition. Shakespeare William

Duchess of Burgundy.

       Lear. Nothing! I have sworn; I am firm.

       Bur. I am sorry then you have so lost a father

       That you must lose a husband. Cor. Peace be with Burgundy!

       Since that respects of fortune are his love, I shall not be his wife.

       France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor; Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd!

       Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon. Be it lawful I take up what's cast away.

       Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect

       My love should kindle to inflam'd respect.

       Thy dow'rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance, Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.

       Not all the dukes in wat'rish Burgundy

       Can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me. Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind. Thou losest here, a better where to find.

       Lear. Thou hast her, France; let her be thine; for we

       Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison. Come, noble Burgundy.

       Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, [Cornwall, Albany, Gloucester, and Attendants].

       France. Bid farewell to your sisters.

       Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are; And, like a sister, am most loath to call

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       Your faults as they are nam'd. Use well our father. To your professed bosoms I commit him;

       But yet, alas, stood I within his grace, I would prefer him to a better place! So farewell to you both.

       Gon. Prescribe not us our duties. Reg. 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,

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       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,

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       my lord, I durst swear it were his; but in respect of that, I would fain think it were not. Glou. It is his. Edm. It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is not in the contents. Glou. Hath he never before sounded you in this business? Edm. Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declining, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. Glou. O villain, villain! His very opinion in the letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain!