The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

Alb. Well, you may fear too far.

Gon. Safer than trust too far.

Let me still take away the harms I fear, Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart.

What he hath utter’d I have writ my sister.

If she sustain him and his hundred knights, When I have show’d th’ unfitness-Enter [Oswald the] Steward.

How now, Oswald?

What, have you writ that letter to my sister?

Osw. Yes, madam.

Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse!

Inform her full of my particular fear, And thereto add such reasons of your own As may compact it more. Get you gone, And hasten your return. [Exit Oswald.] No, no, my lord!

This milky gentleness and course of yours, Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon, You are much more at task for want of wisdom Than prais’d for harmful mildness.

Alb. How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell.

Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.

Gon. Nay then—

Alb. Well, well; th’ event. Exeunt.

Scene V.

Court before the Duke of Albany’s Palace.

Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.

Lear. Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. Acquaint my daughter no further with anything you know than comes from her demand out of the letter. If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you.

Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter.

Exit.

Fool. If a man’s brains were in’s heels, were’t not in danger of kibes?

Lear. Ay, boy.

Fool. Then I prithee be merry. Thy wit shall ne’er go slip-shod.

Lear. Ha, ha, ha!

Fool. Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; for though she’s as like this as a crab’s like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.

Lear. What canst tell, boy?

Fool. She’ll taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell why one’s nose stands i’ th’ middle on’s face?

Lear. No.

Fool. Why, to keep one’s eyes of either side’s nose, that what a man cannot smell out, ‘a may spy into.

Lear. I did her wrong.

Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell?

Lear. No.

Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house.

Lear. Why?

Fool. Why, to put’s head in; not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his horns without a case.

Lear. I will forget my nature. So kind a father!- Be my horses ready?

Fool. Thy asses are gone about ‘em. The reason why the seven stars are no moe than seven is a pretty reason.

Lear. Because they are not eight?

Fool. Yes indeed. Thou wouldst make a good fool.

Lear. To tak’t again perforce! Monster ingratitude!

Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I’ld have thee beaten for being old before thy time.

Lear. How’s that?

Fool. Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.

Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!

Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!

[Enter a Gentleman.]

How now? Are the horses ready?

Gent. Ready, my lord.

Lear. Come, boy.

Fool. She that’s a maid now, and laughs at my departure, Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter Exeunt.

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ACT II. Scene I.

A court within the Castle of the Earl of Gloucester.

Enter [Edmund the] Bastard and Curan, meeting.

Edm. Save thee, Curan.

Cur. And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his Duchess will be here with him this night.

Edm. How comes that?

Cur. Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad-I mean the whisper’d ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments?

Edm. Not I. Pray you, what are they?

Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward ‘twixt the two Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?

Edm. Not a word.

Cur. You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. Exit.

Edm. The Duke be here tonight? The better! best!

This weaves itself perforce into my business.

My father hath set guard to take my brother; And I have one thing, of a queasy question, Which I must act. Briefness and fortune, work!

Brother, a word! Descend! Brother, I say!

Enter Edgar.

My father watches. O sir, fly this place!

Intelligence is given where you are hid.

You have now the good advantage of the night.

Have you not spoken ‘gainst the Duke of Cornwall?

He’s coming hither; now, i’ th’ night, i’ th’ haste, And Regan with him. Have you nothing said Upon his party ‘gainst the Duke of Albany?

Advise yourself.

Edg. I am sure on’t, not a word.

Edm. I hear my father coming. Pardon me!

In cunning I must draw my sword upon you.

Draw, seem to defend yourself; now quit you well.-

Yield! Come before my father. Light, ho, here!

Fly, brother.- Torches, torches!- So farewell.

Exit Edgar.

Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion Of my more fierce endeavour. [Stabs his arm.] I have seen drunkards

Do more than this in sport.- Father, father!-

Stop, stop! No help?

Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches.

Glou. Now, Edmund, where’s the villain?

Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out, Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon To stand ‘s auspicious mistress.

Glou. But where is he?

Edm. Look, sir, I bleed.

Glou. Where is the villain, Edmund?

Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could-Glou. Pursue him, ho! Go after. [Exeunt some Servants].

By no means what?

Edm. Persuade me to the murther of your lordship; But that I told him the revenging gods ‘Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend; Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond The child was bound to th’ father-sir, in fine, Seeing how loathly opposite I stood

To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion With his prepared sword he charges home My unprovided body, lanch’d mine arm; But when he saw my best alarum’d spirits, Bold in the quarrel’s right, rous’d to th’ encounter, Or whether gasted by the noise I made, Full suddenly he fled.

Glou. Let him fly far.

Not in this land shall he remain uncaught; And found-dispatch. The noble Duke my master, My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight.

By his authority I will proclaim it

That he which find, him shall deserve our thanks, Bringing the murderous caitiff to the stake; He that conceals him, death.

Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent And found him pight to do it, with curst speech I threaten’d to discover him. He replied, ‘Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think, If I would stand against thee, would the reposal Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee Make thy words faith’d? No. What I should deny (As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce My very character), I’ld turn it all To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice; And thou must make a dullard of the world, If they not thought the profits of my death Were very pregnant and potential spurs To make thee seek it.’

Glou. Strong and fast’ned villain!

Would he deny his letter? I never got him.

Tucket within.

Hark, the Duke’s trumpets! I know not why he comes.

All ports I’ll bar; the villain shall not scape; The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture I will send far and near, that all the kingdom May have due note of him, and of my land, Loyal and natural boy, I’ll work the means To make thee capable.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.

Corn. How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither (Which I can call but now) I have heard strange news.

Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short Which can pursue th’ offender. How dost, my lord?

Glou. O madam, my old heart is crack’d, it’s crack’d!

Reg. What, did my father’s godson seek your life?

He whom my father nam’d? Your Edgar?

Glou. O lady, lady, shame would have it hid!

Reg. Was he not companion with the riotous knights That tend upon my father?

Glou. I know not, madam. ‘Tis too bad, too bad!

Edm. Yes, madam, he was of that consort.

Reg. No marvel then though he were ill affected.

‘Tis they have put him on the old man’s death, To have th’ expense and waste of his revenues.

I have this present evening from my sister Been well inform’d of them, and with such cautions That, if they come to sojourn at my house, I’ll not be there.

Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan.

Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father A childlike office.

Edm. ‘Twas my duty, sir.

Glou. He did bewray his practice, and receiv’d This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.

Corn. Is he pursued?

Glou. Ay, my good lord.

Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more Be fear’d of doing harm. Make your own purpose, How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund, Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant So much commend itself, you shall be ours.

Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; You we first seize on.

Edm. I shall serve you, sir,

Truly, however else.

Glou. For him I thank your Grace.

Corn. You know not why we came to visit you-Reg. Thus out of season, threading dark-ey’d night.

Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, Wherein we must have use of your advice.

Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, Of differences, which I best thought it fit To answer from our home. The several messengers From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow Your needful counsel to our business, Which craves the instant use.

Glou. I serve you, madam.

Your Graces are right welcome.

Exeunt. Flourish.

Scene II.

Before Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter Kent and [Oswald the] Steward, severally.

Osw. Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house?

Kent. Ay.

Osw. Where may we set our horses?

Kent. I’ th’ mire.

Osw. Prithee, if thou lov’st me, tell me.

Kent. I love thee not.

Osw. Why then, I care not for thee.

Kent. If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make thee care for me.

Osw. Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.

Kent. Fellow, I know thee.

Osw. What dost thou know me for?

Kent. A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver’d, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch; one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny the least syllable of thy addition.

Osw. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one that’s neither known of thee nor knows thee!

Kent. What a brazen-fac’d varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me!

Is it two days