King Lear - William Shakespeare (manga ereader TXT) 📗

one, and we obey you. King Lear Then there’s life in’t. Nay, if you get it, you shall get it with running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. Exit running; Attendants follow. Gentleman

A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,
Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter,
Who redeems nature from the general curse
Which twain have brought her to.

Edgar

Hail, gentle sir.

Gentleman

Sir, speed you: what’s your will?

Edgar

Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?

Gentleman

Most sure and vulgar: every one hears that,
Which can distinguish sound.

Edgar

But, by your favour,
How near’s the other army?

Gentleman

Near and on speedy foot; the main descry
Stands on the hourly thought.

Edgar

I thank you, sir: that’s all.

Gentleman

Though that the queen on special cause is here,
Her army is moved on.

Edgar

I thank you, sir. Exit Gentleman.

Gloucester

You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me:
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please!

Edgar

Well pray you, father.

Gloucester

Now, good sir, what are you?

Edgar

A most poor man, made tame to fortune’s blows;
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand,
I’ll lead you to some biding.

Gloucester

Hearty thanks:
The bounty and the benison of heaven
To boot, and boot!

Enter Oswald. Oswald

A proclaim’d prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out
That must destroy thee.

Gloucester

Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to’t. Edgar interposes.

Oswald

Wherefore, bold peasant,
Darest thou support a publish’d traitor? Hence;
Lest that the infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.

Edgar Ch’ill not let go, zir, without vurther ’casion. Oswald Let go, slave, or thou diest! Edgar Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk pass. An chud ha’ bin zwaggered out of my life, ’twould not ha’ bin zo long as ’tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th’ old man; keep out, che vor ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the harder: ch’ill be plain with you. Oswald Out, dunghill! Edgar Ch’ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor your foins. They fight, and Edgar knocks him down. Oswald

Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, take my purse:
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body;
And give the letters which thou find’st about me
To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out
Upon the British party: O, untimely death! Dies.

Edgar

I know thee well: a serviceable villain;
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
As badness would desire.

Gloucester

What, is he dead?

Edgar

Sit you down, father; rest you
Let’s see these pockets: the letters that he speaks of
May be my friends. He’s dead; I am only sorry
He had no other death’s-man. Let us see:
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not:
To know our enemies’ minds, we’ld rip their hearts;
Their papers, is more lawful.

Reads.

“Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have many opportunities to cut him off: if your will want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror: then am I the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the place for your labour.

“Your⁠—wife, so I would say⁠—
Affectionate servant,

“Goneril.”

O undistinguish’d space of woman’s will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband’s life;
And the exchange my brother! Here, in the sands,
Thee I’ll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death practised duke: for him ’tis well
That of thy death and business I can tell.

Gloucester

The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling
Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract:
So should my thoughts be sever’d from my griefs,
And woes by wrong imaginations lose
The knowledge of themselves.

Edgar

Give me your hand: Drum afar off.
Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum:
Come, father, I’ll bestow you with a friend. Exeunt.

Scene VII

A tent in the French camp. Lear on a bed asleep, soft music playing; Gentleman, and others attending.

Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Doctor. Cordelia

O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work,
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
And every measure fail me.

Kent

To be acknowledged, madam, is o’erpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth;
Nor more nor clipp’d, but so.

Cordelia

Be better suited:
These weeds are memories of those worser hours:
I prithee, put them off.

Kent

Pardon me, dear madam;
Yet to be known shortens my made intent:
My boon I make it, that you know me not
Till time and I think meet.

Cordelia

Then be’t so, my good lord.
To the Doctor. How does the king?

Doctor Madam, sleeps still. Cordelia

O you kind gods,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father!

Doctor

So please your majesty
That we may wake the king: he hath slept long.

Cordelia

Be govern’d by your knowledge, and proceed
I’ the sway of your own will. Is he array’d?

Gentleman

Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep
We put fresh garments on him.

Doctor

Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;
I doubt not of his temperance.

Cordelia Very well. Doctor Please you, draw near. Louder the music there! Cordelia

O my dear father! Restoration hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!

Kent

Kind and dear princess!

Cordelia

Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face
To be opposed against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick, cross lightning? to watch⁠—poor perdu!⁠—
With this thin helm? Mine enemy’s dog,
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my