King Lear William Shakespeare (books you have to read .txt) đ
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online «King Lear William Shakespeare (books you have to read .txt) đ». Author William Shakespeare
Thereâs my exchange: Throwing down a glove.
what in the world he is
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies:
Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,
On him, on you, who not? I will maintain
My truth and honour firmly.
Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers,
All levied in my name, have in my name
Took their discharge.
Come hither, heraldâ âLet the trumpet sound,
And read out this.
Ask him his purposes, why he appears
Upon this call oâ the trumpet.
What are you?
Your name, your quality? and why you answer
This present summons?
Know, my name is lost;
By treasonâs tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit:
Yet am I noble as the adversary
I come to cope.
Draw thy sword,
That, if my speech offend a noble heart,
Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine.
Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
My oath, and my profession: I protest,
Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune,
Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor;
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
Conspirant âgainst this high-illustrious prince;
And, from the extremest upward of thy head
To the descent and dust below thy foot,
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou âNo,â
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
Thou liest.
In wisdom I should ask thy name;
But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes,
What safe and nicely I might well delay
By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn:
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head;
With the hell-hated lie oâerwhelm thy heart;
Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise,
This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak! Alarums. They fight. Edmund falls.
This is practise, Gloucester:
By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer
An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquishâd,
But cozenâd and beguiled.
Shut your mouth, dame,
Or with this paper shall I stop it: Hold, sir:
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil:
No tearing, lady: I perceive you know it. Gives the letter to Edmund.
Say, if I do, the laws are mine, not thine:
Who can arraign me forât.
Most monstrous! oh!
Knowâst thou this paper?
What you have charged me with, that have I done;
And more, much more; the time will bring it out:
âTis past, and so am I. But what art thou
That hast this fortune on me? If thouârt noble,
I do forgive thee.
Letâs exchange charity.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more, the more thou hast wrongâd me.
My name is Edgar, and thy fatherâs son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us:
The dark and vicious place where thee he got
Cost him his eyes.
Thou hast spoken right, âtis true;
The wheel is come full circle: I am here.
Methought thy very gait did prophesy
A royal nobleness: I must embrace thee:
Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I
Did hate thee or thy father!
Where have you hid yourself?
How have you known the miseries of your father?
By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale;
And when âtis told, O, that my heart would burst!
The bloody proclamation to escape,
That followâd me so nearâ âO, our livesâ sweetness!
That we the pain of death would hourly die
Rather than die at once!â âtaught me to shift
Into a madmanâs rags; to assume a semblance
That very dogs disdainâd: and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost: became his guide,
Led him, beggâd for him, saved him from despair;
Neverâ âO fault!â ârevealâd myself unto him,
Until some half-hour past, when I was armâd:
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
I askâd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage: but his flawâd heart,
Alack, too weak the conflict to support!
âTwixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.
This speech of yours hath moved me,
And shall perchance do good: but speak you on;
You look as you had something more to say.
If there be more, more woeful, hold it in;
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this.
This would have seemâd a period
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too much, would make much more,
And top extremity.
Whilst I was big in clamour came there in a man,
Who, having seen me in my worst estate,
Shunnâd my abhorrâd society; but then, finding
Who âtwas that so endured, with his strong arms
He fastened on my neck, and bellowâd out
As heâd burst heaven; threw him on my father;
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him
That ever ear received: which in recounting
His grief grew puissant and the strings of life
Began to crack: twice then the trumpets sounded,
And there I left him tranced.
Kent, sir, the banishâd Kent; who in disguise
Followâd his enemy king, and did him service
Improper for a slave.
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