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Король Лир

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propinquity and property of blood,
and as a stranger to my heart and me
hold thee, from this, for ever!
Peace, Kent!
I loved her most,
and thought to set my rest
on her kind nursery.
Hence, and avoid my sight!
Call France!
Call Burgundy!
Cornwall and Albany, with my two
daughters' dowers digest this third.
Let pride, which she calls plainness,
marry her.
Ourself, by monthly course, with
reservation of an hundred knights,
shall our abode make with you
by due turns.
We still retain the name, and all
the additions to a king,
the sway, revenue, execution
of the rest be yours.
Royal Lear, whom I have ever honoured
as my king,
as my great patron thought on
in my prayers...
The bow is bent and drawn!
Make from the shaft!
Let it fall rather, though the fork
invade the region of my heart.
Be Kent unmannerly,
when Lear is mad.
What wouldst thou want?
That duty shall have dread to speak,
when power to flattery bows?
Answer my life my judgement,
thy youngest daughter
does not love thee least.
Nor are those empty-hearted
whose low sound
reverbs no hollowness.
Kent, on thy life, no more.
My life I never held but as a pawn
to wage against thy enemies.
No fear to lose it,
thy safety being the motive.
- Out of my sight!
- See better, Lear.
Now, by Apollo!
Now, by Apollo, king,
thou swear'st thy gods in vain.
O, vassal! Miscreant!
Dear sir, forbear.
Hear me, recreant!
On thine allegiance, hear me!
If tomorrow thy banished trunk
be found in our dominions,
the moment is thy death!
Fare thee well, king!
Sith thus thou wilt appear,
freedom leaves hence,
and banishment is here.
Here's France and Burgundy,
my noble lord.
My Lord of Burgundy,
we first address towards you,
who with this king
have rivalled for our daughter.
When she was dear to us,
we did hold her so,
but now her price is fallen.
Will you, with those infirmities she
owes, dowered with our curse,
and stranger'd with our oath,
take her or leave her?
I tell you all her wealth.
Pardon me, royal sir.
For you, great king,
I would not from your love
make such a stray,
to match you where I hate.
Must be a faith that reason without
miracle should never plant in me.
I yet beseech your majesty,
if for I want that glib and oily art,
to speak and purpose not,
that you make known
it is no vicious blot, murder,
or foulness that hath deprived me
of your grace and favour,
but even for want of that
for which I an richer, -
a still-soliciting eye, and such
a tongue as I am glad I have not.
Thou hast her, France:
Let her be thine!
For we have no such daughter!
Time shall unfold what pleated
cunning hides:
Who covers faults, at last
shame them derides.
An hundred knights to add to retinue!
A hundred knights to add to retinue!
Saddle the horses!
Call the train together!
Saddle the horses!
Call the train together!
The barbarian that makes his genera-
tion messes to gorge his appetite,
shall to my bosom be as well relieved,
as thou my sometime daughter.
Thou, nature, art my goddess!
To thy law my services are bound.
Wherefore should I permit deprive me,
if I'm 12 moonshines lag of a brother?
Why bastard?
Wherefore base?
Why brand they us with base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature,
take more composition and quality
than doth, within a dull, stale,
tired bed,
go to th'creating a whole tribe
of fobs?
Well, my legitimate!
Kent banished thus!
And the king gone tonight!
Subscribed his power!
All this done upon the gad!
Edmund, how now!
What news?
So please your lordship, none.
Why so earnestly seek you
to put up that letter?
I know no news,
my lord.
What paper were you reading?
Nothing, my lord.
Why, then, that terrible dispatch of
it into your pocket? Let's see.
Sir, pardon me.
It is a letter from my brother.
I find it not fit for your
o'er-Iooking.
Give me the letter.
I shall offend,
either to detain or give it.
I hope, for my brother's
justification, he wrote this
Король Лир Король Лир

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