KING LEAR. William Shakespeare. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: William Shakespeare
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
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isbn: 9788027233168
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wast thou fain, poor father,

       To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn,

       In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!

       ‘Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once

       Had not concluded all.—He wakes; speak to him.

       Doct.

       Madam, do you; ‘tis fittest.

       Cor.

       How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?

       Lear.

       You do me wrong to take me out o’ the grave:—

       Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound

       Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears

       Do scald like molten lead.

       Cor.

       Sir, do you know me?

       Lear.

       You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?

       Cor.

       Still, still, far wide!

       Phys.

       He’s scarce awake: let him alone awhile.

       Lear.

       Where have I been? Where am I?—Fair daylight,—

       I am mightily abus’d.—I should e’en die with pity,

       To see another thus.—I know not what to say.—

       I will not swear these are my hands:—let’s see;

       I feel this pin prick. Would I were assur’d

       Of my condition!

       Cor.

       O, look upon me, sir,

       And hold your hands in benediction o’er me.—

       No, sir, you must not kneel.

       Lear.

       Pray, do not mock me:

       I am a very foolish fond old man,

       Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;

       And, to deal plainly,

       I fear I am not in my perfect mind.

       Methinks I should know you, and know this man;

       Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant

       What place this is; and all the skill I have

       Remembers not these garments; nor I know not

       Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;

       For, as I am a man, I think this lady

       To be my child Cordelia.

       Cor.

       And so I am. I am.

       Lear.

       Be your tears wet? yes, faith. I pray, weep not:

       If you have poison for me, I will drink it.

       I know you do not love me; for your sisters

       Have, as I do remember, done me wrong:

       You have some cause, they have not.

       Cor.

       No cause, no cause.

       Lear.

       Am I in France?

       Kent.

       In your own kingdom, sir.

       Lear.

       Do not abuse me.

       Phys.

       Be comforted, good madam: the great rage,

       You see, is kill’d in him: and yet it is danger

       To make him even o’er the time he has lost.

       Desire him to go in; trouble him no more

       Till further settling.

       Cor.

       Will’t please your highness walk?

       Lear.

       You must bear with me:

       Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.

       [Exeunt Lear, Cordelia, Physician, and Attendants.]

       Gent.

       Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?

       Kent.

       Most certain, sir.

       Gent.

       Who is conductor of his people?

       Kent.

       As ‘tis said, the bastard son of Gloster.

       Gent. They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.

       Kent. Report is changeable. ‘Tis time to look about; the powers of the kingdom approach apace.

       Gent.

       The arbitrement is like to be bloody.

       Fare you well, sir.

       [Exit.]

       Kent.

       My point and period will be throughly wrought,

       Or well or ill, as this day’s battle’s fought.

       [Exit.]

       Table of Contents

      SCENE I. The Camp of the British Forces near Dover.

       [Enter, with drum and colours, Edmund, Regan, Officers, Soldiers, and others.]

       Edm.

       Know of the duke if his last purpose hold,

       Or whether since he is advis’d by aught

       To change the course: he’s full of alteration

       And self-reproving:—bring his constant pleasure.

       [To an Officer, who goes out.]

       Reg.

       Our sister’s man is certainly miscarried.

       Edm.

       Tis to be doubted, madam.

       Reg.

       Now, sweet lord,

       You know the goodness I intend upon you:

       Tell me,—but truly,—but then speak the truth,

       Do you not love my sister?

       Edm.

       In honour’d love.

       Reg.

       But have you never found my brother’s way

       To the forfended place?

       Edm.

       That thought abuses you.

       Reg.

       I am doubtful that you have been conjunct

       And bosom’d with her, as far as we call hers.

       Edm.

       No, by mine honour, madam.

       Reg.

       I never shall endure her: dear my lord,

       Be not familiar with her.

       Edm.

       Fear me not:—

       She and the duke her husband!

       [Enter, with drum and colours, Albany, Goneril, and Soldiers.]

       Gon.

       [Aside.] I had rather lose the battle than that sister

       Should loosen him and me.