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King Lear Page #11
- Year:
- 2008
- 156 min
- 1,020 Views
- Conceive, and fare thee well.
- Yours in the ranks of death.
My most dear Gloucester!
O, the difference of man and a man!
To thee a woman's services are due.
A fool usurps my body.
- Madam, here comes my lord.
- I have been worth the whistling.
O Goneril, you are not worth the dust
which the rude wind blows in your face.
- I fear your disposition.
- No more. The text is foolish.
What have you done? Tigers, not daughters,
what have you performed?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
most barbarous, most degenerate,
have you madded.
If that the heavens do not
their visible spirits
send quickly down
to tame these vile offences, it will come.
Humanity must perforce prey on itself
like monsters of the deep.
Milk-livered man, that bears a cheek
for blows, a head for wrongs!
Where's thy drum? France spreads
his banners in our noiseless land,
whilst thou, a moral fool,
sits still and cries,
"Alack, why does he so?"
See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
so horrid as in woman.
- O vain fool!
- Thou changed, self-covered thing!
Were't my fitness
to let these hands obey my blood,
they are apt enough to dislocate and tear
thy flesh and bones.
Marry, thy manhood! Mew!
- What news?
- My good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead,
slain by his servant, going to put out
the other eye of Gloucester.
- Gloucester's eyes?
- A servant that he bred,
bending his sword to his great master
who, thereat enraged,
flew on him, and amongst us felled him dead,
but not without that harmful stroke,
which since hath plucked him after.
This shows you are above,
you justicers,
so speedily can venge!
But... O poor Gloucester!
Lost he his other eye?
Both, both, my lord.
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer.
'Tis from your sister.
One way I like this well.
But being widowed,
and my Gloucester with her,
may all the building in my fancy
pluck upon my hateful life.
Another way, the news is not so tart.
I'll read, and answer.
Where was his son
when they did take his eyes?
- Come with thy lady hither.
- He is not here.
- No, my good lord. I met him back again.
- Knows he the wickedness?
Ay, my good lord.
'Twas he informed against him,
and quit the house on purpose, that their
punishment might have the freer course.
Come hither, friend.
Tell me what more thou know'st.
Alack... 'tis he!
Why, he was met even now
as mad as the vexed sea,
singing aloud,
crowned with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,
with hardokes, hemlock,
nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
darnel, and all the idle weeds
that grow in our sustaining corn.
What can man's wisdom
in the restoring his bereaved sense?
There is means, madam. Our foster-nurse
of nature is repose, the which he lacks.
A century send forth.
Search every acre of the high-grown field,
and bring him to our eye.
- But are my brother's powers set forth?
- Ay, madam.
- Madam, with much ado.
Your sister is the better soldier.
- Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?
- No, madam.
What might import my sister's letter to him?
- I know not, lady.
- Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes
being out, to let him live.
Where he arrives
he moves all hearts against us.
Edmund, I think, is gone,
in pity of his misery,
I must needs after him, madam, with my letter.
Why should she write to Edmund? Might not
you transport her purposes by word?
Belike some things, I know not what.
I'll love thee...
- Much... Let me unseal the letter.
- Madam, I had rather...
I know your lady does not love her husband.
I am sure of that.
I know you are of her bosom.
- I, madam?
- I speak in understanding.
Y'are, I know't.
Therefore I do advise you, take this note.
My lord is dead.
Edmund and I have... talked,
and more convenient is he for my hand
than for your lady's.
And so, fare you well.
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
preferment falls on him that cuts him off.
Would I could meet him, madam!
- I should show what party I do follow.
- Fare thee well.
When shall I come to the
top of that same hill?
You do climb up it now. Look how we labour.
- Methinks the ground is even.
- Horrible steep.
- Hark, do you hear the sea?
- No, truly.
Why, then, your other senses
grow imperfect by your eyes' anguish.
- So may it be, indeed.
- Come on, sir.
Here's the place.
Stand still.
to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows and choughs
that wing the midway air
show scarce so gross as beetles.
Half way down hangs...
one that gathers samphire,
dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
appear like mice.
And yon tall anchoring bark,
diminished to her cock,
her cock, a buoy almost too small for sight.
The murmuring surge,
that on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
cannot be heard so high.
Set me where you stand.
Give me your hand.
You are now within a foot
of the extreme verge.
Here, my friend, is a jewel
well worth a poor man's taking.
Go thou farther off. Bid me farewell
and let me hear thee going.
- Now fare ye well, good sir.
- With all my heart.
Why I do trifle thus with his despair
is done to cure it.
O you mighty gods!
This world I do renounce,
and in your sights
shake patiently my great affliction off.
If I could bear it longer
and not fall to quarrel
with thy great opposeless wills,
my snuff and loathed part of nature
should burn itself out.
Now, fellow, fare thee well.
Gone, sir. Farewell.
Ho, you sir! Friend! Hear you, sir?
Speak!
Yet he revives.
- What are you, sir?
- Away, and let me die.
Hadst thou been aught but gossamer,
feathers, air,
so many fathoms down precipitating,
thou'dst shivered like an egg.
Ten masts at each make not the altitude
which thou hast perpendicularly fell.
Thy life's a miracle.
- Speak yet again.
- Yet have I fallen or no?
From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.
- Do but look up.
- Alack, I have no eyes.
Is wretchedness deprived that benefit,
to end itself by death?
Up. So. How is't?
Feel you your legs?
You stand.
- Too well, too well.
- This is above all strangeness.
Upon the crown o' the cliff,
what thing was that
which parted from you?
- A poor unfortunate beggar.
- As I stood here below,
methought his eyes
were two full moons.
He had a thousand noses,
horns welked and waved
like the enridged sea.
It was some fiend.
Therefore, thou happy father,
think that the clearest gods,
who make them honours
of men's impossibilities,
have here preserved thee.
I do remember now.
Henceforth I'll bear affliction
till it do cry out itself,
"Enough, enough," and die.
They cannot touch me for coining.
I am the King himself.
Nature's above art in that respect.
There's your press money.
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"King Lear" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 30 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/king_lear_11834>.
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