King Lear William Shakespeare (books you have to read .txt) š
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online Ā«King Lear William Shakespeare (books you have to read .txt) šĀ». Author William Shakespeare
They durst not do āt;
They could not, would not do āt; ātis worse than murder,
To do upon respect such violent outrage:
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage,
Coming from us.
My lord, when at their home
I did commend your highnessā letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that showād
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stewād in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress salutations;
Deliverād letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read: on whose contents,
They summonād up their meiny, straight took horse;
Commanded me to follow, and attend
The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome, I perceived, had poisonād mineā ā
Being the very fellow that of late
Displayād so saucily against your highnessā ā
Having more man than wit about me, drew:
He raised the house with loud and coward cries.
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.
Winterās not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind;
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Neāer turns the key to the poor.
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours
for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!
Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow,
Thy elementās below! Where is this daughter?
Follow me not;
Stay here. Exit.
None.
How chance the king comes with so small a train?
That sir which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in the storm,
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:
The knave turns fool that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy.
Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?
They have travellād all the night? Mere fetches;
The images of revolt and flying off.
Fetch me a better answer.
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the duke;
How unremoveable and fixād he is
In his own course.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!
Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,
Iāld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father
Would with his daughter speak, commands her service:
Are they informād of this? My breath and blood!
Fiery? the fiery duke? Tell the hot duke thatā ā
No, but not yet: may be he is not well:
Infirmity doth still neglect all office
Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves
When nature, being oppressād, commands the mind
To suffer with the body: Iāll forbear;
And am fallān out with my more headier will,
To take the indisposed and sickly fit
For the sound man. Death on my state! wherefore Looking on Kent.
Should he sit here? This act persuades me
That this remotion of the duke and her
Is practise only. Give me my servant forth.
Go tell the duke and ās wife Iāld speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber-door Iāll beat the drum
Till it cry sleep to death.
Regan, I think you are; I know what reason
I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy motherās tomb,
Sepulchring an adultress.
To Kent. O, are you free?
Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,
Thy sisterās naught: O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-toothād unkindness, like a vulture, here: Points to his heart.
I can scarce speak to thee; thouālt not believe
With how depraved a qualityā āO Regan!
I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope.
You less know how to value her desert
Than she to scant her duty.
I cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance
She have restrainād the riots of your followers,
āTis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
As clears her from all blame.
O, sir, you are old.
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be ruled and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;
Say you have wrongād her, sir.
Ask her forgiveness?
Do you but mark how this
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