酷兔英语

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Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery? No.

The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly
Does lecher in my sight.

Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son
Was kinder to his father than my daughters

Got 'tween the lawful sheets.
To't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.

Behold yond simp'ring dame,
Whose face between her forks presageth snow,

That minces virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name.

The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to't
With a more riotous appetite.

Down from the waist they are Centaurs,
Though women all above.

But to the girdle do the gods inherit,
Beneath is all the fiend's.

There's hell, there's darkness, there's the sulphurous pit;
burning, scalding, stench, consumption. Fie, fie, fie! pah, pah!

Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my
imagination. There's money for thee.

Glou. O, let me kiss that hand!
Lear. Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.

Glou. O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me?

Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny at me?
No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not love. Read thou this

challenge; mark but the penning of it.
Glou. Were all the letters suns, I could not see one.

Edg. [aside] I would not take this from report. It is,
And my heart breaks at it.

Lear. Read.
Glou. What, with the case of eyes?

Lear. O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no
money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse

in a light. Yet you see how this world goes.
Glou. I see it feelingly.

Lear. What, art mad? A man may see how the world goes with no eyes.
Look with thine ears. See how yond justice rails upon yond

simple thief. Hark in thine ear. Change places and, handy-dandy,
which is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen a

farmer's dog bark at a beggar?
Glou. Ay, sir.

Lear. And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold
the great image of authority: a dog's obeyed in office.

Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!
Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back.

Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind
For which thou whip'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.

Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,

And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks;
Arm it in rags, a pygmy's straw does pierce it.

None does offend, none-I say none! I'll able 'em.
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power

To seal th' accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes
And, like a scurvy politician, seem

To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now!
Pull off my boots. Harder, harder! So.

Edg. O, matter and impertinency mix'd!
Reason, in madness!

Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester.

Thou must be patient. We came crying bother;
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell 'the air

We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee. Mark.
Glou. Alack, alack the day!

Lear. When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools. This' a good block.

It were a delicatestratagem to shoe
A troop of horse with felt. I'll put't in proof,

And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law,
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

Enter a Gentleman [with Attendants].
Gent. O, here he is! Lay hand upon him.-Sir,

Your most dear daughter-
Lear. No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even

The natural fool of fortune. Use me well;
You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon;

I am cut to th' brains.
Gent. You shall have anything.

Lear. No seconds? All myself?
Why, this would make a man a man of salt,

To use his eyes for garden waterpots,
Ay, and laying autumn's dust.

Gent. Good sir-
Lear. I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What!

I will be jovial. Come, come, I am a king;
My masters, know you that?

Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you.
Lear. Then there's life in't. Nay, an you get it, you shall get it

by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa!
Exit running. [Attendants follow.]

Gent. 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.

Edg. Hail, gentle sir.
Gent. Sir, speed you. What's your will?

Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward?
Gent. Most sure and vulgar. Every one hears that

Which can distinguish sound.
Edg. But, by your favour,

How near's the other army?
Gent. Near and on speedy foot. The main descry

Stands on the hourly thought.
Edg. I thank you sir. That's all.

Gent. Though that the Queen on special cause is here,
Her army is mov'd on.

Edg. I thank you, sir
Exit [Gentleman].

Glou. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again

To die before you please!
Edg. Well pray you, father.

Glou. Now, good sir, what are you?
Edg. 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.
Glou. Hearty thanks.

The bounty and the benison of heaven
To boot, and boot!

Enter [Oswald the] Steward.
Osw. A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!

That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh
To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappytraitor,

Briefly thyself remember. The sword is out
That must destroy thee.

Glou. Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to't.

[Edgar interposes.]
Osw. Wherefore, bold peasant,

Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence!
Lest that th' infection of his fortune take

Like hold on thee. Let go his arm.
Edg. Chill not let go, zir, without vurther 'cagion.

Osw. Let go, slave, or thou diest!
Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor voke pass. An chud

ha' bin zwagger'd 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 vore ye, or Ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the
harder. Chill be plain with you.

Osw. Out, dunghill!
They fight.

Edg. Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come! No matter vor your foins.
[Oswald falls.]

Osw. 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! Death! He dies.
Edg. I know thee well. A serviceable villain,

As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
As badness would desire.

Glou. What, is he dead?
Edg. Sit you down, father; rest you.

Let's see his pockets; these letters that he speaks of
May be my friends. He's dead. I am only sorry

He had no other deathsman. 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 the letter.

'Let our reciprocal vows be rememb'red. You have many
opportunities to cut him off. If your will want not, time and

place be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done, if he return
the conqueror. Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my jail; from

the loathed warmthwhereof deliver me, and supply the place for
your labour.

'Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant,
'Goneril.'

O indistinguish'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 murtherous lechers; and in the mature time
With this ungracious paper strike the sight

Of the death-practis'd Duke, For him 'tis well
That of thy death and business I can tell.

Glou. 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.

A drum afar off.
Edg. Give me Your hand.

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.

Enter Cordelia, Kent, Doctor, and Gentleman.
Cor. O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work

To match thy goodness? My life will be too short
And every measure fall me.

Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth;

Nor more nor clipp'd, but so.
Cor. Be better suited.

These weeds are memories of those worser hours.
I prithee put them off.



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