King Lear by William Shakespeare (best books to read for success TXT) 📕
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King Lear is a tragedy by Shakespeare, written about 1605 or 1606. Shakespeare based it on the legendary King Leir of the Britons, whose story is outlined in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s pseudohistorical History of the Kings of Britain (written in about 1136).
The play tells the tale of the aged King Lear who is passing on the control of his kingdom to his three daughters. He asks each of them to express their love for him, and the first two, Goneril and Regan do so effusively, saying they love him above all things. But his youngest daughter, Cordelia, is compelled to be truthful and says that she must reserve some love for her future husband. Lear, enraged, cuts her off without any inheritance.
The secondary plot deals with the machinations of Edmund, the bastard son of the Earl of Gloucester, who manages to convince his father that his legitimate son Edgar is plotting against him.
After Lear steps down from power, he finds that his elder daughters have no real respect or love for him, and treat him and his followers as a nuisance. They allow the raging Lear to wander out into a storm, hoping to be rid of him, and conspire with Edmund to overthrow the Earl of Gloucester.
The play is a moving study of the perils of old age and the true meaning of filial love. It ends tragically with the deaths of both Cordelia and Lear—so tragically, in fact, that performances during the Restoration period sometimes substituted a happy ending. In modern times, though, King Lear is performed as written and generally regarded as one of Shakespeare’s best plays.
This Standard Ebooks production is based on William George Clark and William Aldis Wright’s 1887 Victoria edition, which is taken from the Globe edition.
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- Author: William Shakespeare
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Stand in assured loss: take up, take up;
And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct. Kent
Oppressed nature sleeps:
This rest might yet have balm’d thy broken senses,
Which, if convenience will not allow,
Stand in hard cure.
To the Fool. Come, help to bear thy master;
Thou must not stay behind.
Come, come, away. Exeunt all but Edgar.
EdgarWhen we our betters see bearing our woes,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
Who alone suffers suffers most i’ the mind,
Leaving free things and happy shows behind:
But then the mind much sufferance doth o’er skip,
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
How light and portable my pain seems now,
When that which makes me bend makes the king bow,
He childed as I father’d! 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.
What will hap more to-night, safe ’scape the king!
Lurk, lurk. Exit.
Gloucester’s castle.
Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund, and Servants. Cornwall Post speedily to my lord your husband; show him this letter: the army of France is landed. Seek out the villain Gloucester. Exeunt some of the Servants. Regan Hang him instantly. Goneril Pluck out his eyes. Cornwall Leave him to my displeasure. 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. Enter Oswald. How now! where’s the king? OswaldMy lord of Gloucester hath convey’d him hence:
Some five or six and thirty of his knights,
Hot questrists after him, met him at gate;
Who, with some other of the lords dependants,
Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast
To have well-armed friends.
Edmund, farewell. Exeunt Goneril, Edmund, and Oswald.
Go seek the traitor Gloucester,
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. 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. Who’s there? the traitor?
What mean your graces? Good my friends, consider
You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.
To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find—Regan plucks his beard.
GloucesterBy the kind gods, ’tis most ignobly done
To pluck me by the beard.
So white, and such a traitor!
GloucesterNaughty lady,
These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin,
Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host:
With robbers’ hands my hospitable favours
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?
Come, sir, what letters had you late from France?
ReganBe simple answerer, for we know the truth.
CornwallAnd what confederacy have you with the traitors
Late footed in the kingdom?
To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? Speak.
GloucesterI have a letter guessingly set down,
Which came from one that’s of a neutral heart,
And not from one opposed.
Because I would not see thy cruel nails
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night endured, would have buoy’d up,
And quench’d the stelled fires:
Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl’d that stern time,
Thou shouldst have said “Good porter, turn the key,”
All cruels else subscribed: but I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such children.
See’t shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.
Upon these eyes of thine I’ll set my foot.
He that will think to live till he be old,
Give me some help! O cruel! O you gods!
One side will mock another; the other too.
CornwallIf you see vengeance—
First servantHold your hand, my lord:
I have served you ever since I was a child;
But better service have I never done you
Than now to bid you hold.
How now, you dog!
First servantIf you did wear a beard upon your chin,
I’d shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?
O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left
To see some mischief on him. O! Dies.
Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly!
Where is thy lustre now?
All dark and comfortless. Where’s my son Edmund?
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature,
To quit this horrid act.
Out, treacherous villain!
Thou call’st on him that hates thee: it was he
That made the overture of thy treasons to us;
Who is too good to pity thee.
O my follies! then Edgar was abused.
Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him!
Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
His way to Dover. Exit one with Gloucester.
How is’t, my lord? how look you?
I have received a hurt: follow me, lady.
Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave
Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace:
Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm.
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