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Loved each and every part of this book. I will seek him, and privily relieve him: go you and maintain talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived: if he ask for me. I am ill, and gone to bed. Though I die for it, as no less is threatened me, the king my old master must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful.
Exit EDMUND This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke Instantly know; and of that letter too: This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me That which my father loses; no less than all: The younger rises when the old doth fall. KENT Good my lord, enter here. KENT I had rather break mine own.
Good my lord, enter. Filial ingratitude! But I will punish home: No, I will weep no more. In such a night To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure. In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril! Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,— O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; No more of that. To the Fool In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty,— Nay, get thee in. Take physic, pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Poor Tom! KENT Give me thy hand. Come forth. Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. And art thou come to this? Bless thy five wits! Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there could I have him now,—and there,—and there again, and there.
Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them all? Fool Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. KENT He hath no daughters, sir. Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! Fool This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny. Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Thou art the thing itself: unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Look, here comes a walking fire. Withold footed thrice the old; He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold; Bid her alight, And her troth plight, And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!
KENT How fares your grace? Your names? Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend! What is the cause of thunder? KENT Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house. What is your study? Storm still His daughters seek his death: ah, that good Kent!
Noble philosopher, your company. KENT This way, my lord. KENT Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow. KENT Sirrah, come on; go along with us. This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France: O heavens! Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehension. I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can: I will not be long from you. KENT All the power of his wits have given way to his impatience: the gods reward your kindness!
Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend. Fool Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a yeoman? Now, you she foxes! Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam? Croak not, black angel; I have no food for thee. KENT How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed: Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? Bring in the evidence.
Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? Thy sheep be in the corn; And for one blast of thy minikin mouth, Thy sheep shall take no harm. I here take my oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked the poor king her father. Fool Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril? Fool Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool.
Stop her there! Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place! KENT O pity! Sir, where is the patience now, That thou so oft have boasted to retain? Avaunt, you curs! Be thy mouth or black or white, Tooth that poisons if it bite; Mastiff, grey-hound, mongrel grim, Hound or spaniel, brach or lym, Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail, Tom will make them weep and wail: For, with throwing thus my head, Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
Do de, de, de. Come, march to wakes and fairs and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts? KENT Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile.
So, so, so. KENT Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits are gone. Take up thy master: If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, With thine, and all that offer to defend him, Stand in assured loss: take up, take up; And follow me, that will to some provision Give thee quick conduct. To the Fool Come, help to bear thy master; Thou must not stay behind. Tom, away! Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray, When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee, In thy just proof, repeals and reconciles thee.
Lurk, lurk. Seek out the villain Gloucester. Edmund, keep you our sister company: the revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father are not fit for your beholding.
Advise the duke, where you are going, to a most festinate preparation: we are bound to the like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister: farewell, my lord of Gloucester. Exeunt other Servants Though well we may not pass upon his life Without the form of justice, yet our power Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men May blame, but not control. Good my friends, consider You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.
O filthy traitor! What will you do? Let him first answer that. Fellows, hold the chair. O cruel! O you gods! What do you mean? They draw and fight First Servant Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger.
A peasant stand up thus! Takes a sword, and runs at him behind First Servant O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left To see some mischief on him. Out, vile jelly! Where is thy lustre now? Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature, To quit this horrid act. Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him! Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace: Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm. Third Servant If she live long, And in the end meet the old course of death, Women will all turn monsters.
Now, heaven help him! To be worst, The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune, Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear: The lamentable change is from the best; The worst returns to laughter.
Welcome, then, Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace! The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here? World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Lie would not yield to age.
Old Man Alack, sir, you cannot see your way. Old Man How now! Old Man Tis poor mad Tom. Old Man Madman and beggar too. As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport. Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Angering itself and others. Old Man Ay, my lord.
Old Man Alack, sir, he is mad. Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure; Above the rest, be gone. Aside I cannot daub it further. So, bless thee, master! Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, That slaves your ordinance, that will not see Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly; So distribution should undo excess, And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? Our wishes on the way May prove effects. Wear this; spare speech; Giving a favour Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak, Would stretch thy spirits up into the air: Conceive, and fare thee well.
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face. What have you done? Could my good brother suffer you to do it? A man, a prince, by him so benefited! If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, It will come, Humanity must perforce prey on itself, Like monsters of the deep. Proper deformity seems not in the fiend So horrid as in woman.
But, O poor Gloucester! Lost he his other eye? Messenger Both, both, my lord. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; Tis from your sister. Messenger Come with my lady hither.
Messenger No, my good lord; I met him back again. Gentleman Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his coming forth is thought of; which imports to the kingdom so much fear and danger, that his personal return was most required and necessary.
KENT Who hath he left behind him general? KENT Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief? KENT O, then it moved her. Gentleman Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest.
In brief, Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved, If all could so become it. KENT Made she no verbal question? Shame of ladies! Let pity not be believed! You spoke not with her since? Gentleman No. Gentleman No, since. Gentleman Why, good sir? Gentleman Alack, poor gentleman! Gentleman Tis so, they are afoot. I pray you, go Along with me. A century send forth; Search every acre in the high-grown field, And bring him to our eye. He that helps him take all my outward worth. Doctor There is means, madam: Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, The which he lacks; that to provoke in him, Are many simples operative, whose power Will close the eye of anguish.
Get King Lear Books now! Powerful tragedy of an aging king, betrayed by his daughters, robbed of his kingdom, descending into madness. Perhaps the bleakest of Shakespeare's tragic dramas, complete with explanatory footnotes. You used to have everything and now you have nothing. Who's madder than you? Old King Lear has decided to retire from his royal duties. He calls his three daughters to him, and asks each to tell him how much they love him. Skip down page to downloads. Categories » All ebooks » Drama.
See the front cover of this book image will open in new tab. King Lear is a tragedy by William Shakespeare. The title character descends into madness after disposing of his estate between two of his three daughters based on their flattery, bringing tragic consequences for all. The play is based on the legend of Leir of Britain, a mythological pre-Roman Celtic king.
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