Читать книгу The Tragedy of King Lear - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 5

  Kent. If but as well I other accents borrow,

     That can my speech defuse, my good intent

     May carry through itself to that full issue

     For which I raz'd my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,

     If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,

     So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st,

     Shall find thee full of labours.

  Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. [Exit

     an Attendant.] How now? What art thou?

  Kent. A man, sir.

  Lear. What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us?

  Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve him

truly

     that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to

     converse with him that is wise and says little, to fear

     judgment, to fight when I cannot choose, and to eat no fish.

  Lear. What art thou?

  Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King.

  Lear. If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a king,

thou

     art poor enough. What wouldst thou?

  Kent. Service.

  Lear. Who wouldst thou serve?

  Kent. You.

  Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow?

  Kent. No, sir; but you have that in your countenance which I

would

     fain call master.

  Lear. What's that?

  Kent. Authority.

  Lear. What services canst thou do?

  Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale

in

     telling it and deliver a plain message bluntly. That which

     ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best of

me

     is diligence.

  Lear. How old art thou?

  Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so

old to

     dote on her for anything. I have years on my back

forty-eight.

  Lear. Follow me; thou shalt serve me. If I like thee no worse

after

     dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, ho, dinner!

     Where's my knave? my fool? Go you and call my fool hither.

     You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter?

  Osw. So please you- Exit.

  Lear. What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.

     How now? Where's that mongrel?

  Knight. He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.

  Lear. Why came not the slave back to me when I call'd him?

  Knight. Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would

not.

  Lear. He would not?

  Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but to my

judgment

     your Highness is not entertain'd with that ceremonious

affection

     as you were wont. There's a great abatement of kindness

appears

     as well in the general dependants as in the Duke himself

also

     and your daughter.

  Lear. Ha! say'st thou so?

  Knight. I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for

     my duty cannot be silent when I think your Highness wrong'd.

  Lear. Thou but rememb'rest me of mine own conception. I have

     perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather

     blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence

     and purpose of unkindness. I will look further into't. But

     where's my fool? I have not seen him this two days.

  Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool

     hath much pined away.

  Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you and tell my

     daughter I would speak with her. [Exit Knight.] Go you, call

     hither my fool.

     O, you, sir, you! Come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?

  Osw. My lady's father.

  Lear. 'My lady's father'? My lord's knave! You whoreson dog!

you

     slave! you cur!

  Osw. I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon.

  Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

                                                  [Strikes him.]

  Osw. I'll not be strucken, my lord.

  Kent. Nor tripp'd neither, you base football player?

                                            [Trips up his heels.

  Lear. I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st me, and I'll love

thee.

  Kent. Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences. Away,

     away! If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry;

but

     away! Go to! Have you wisdom? So.

                                               [Pushes him out.]

  Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There's earnest of

thy

     service. [Gives money.]

  Fool. Let me hire him too. Here's my coxcomb.

                                          [Offers Kent his cap.]

  Lear. How now, my pretty knave? How dost thou?

  Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb.

  Kent. Why, fool?

  Fool. Why? For taking one's part that's out of favour. Nay, an

thou

     canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch cold

shortly.

     There, take my coxcomb! Why, this fellow hath banish'd two

on's

     daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will. If

     thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb. – How now,

     nuncle? Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters!

  Lear. Why, my boy?

  Fool. If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs

myself.

     There's mine! beg another of thy daughters.

  Lear. Take heed, sirrah- the whip.

  Fool. Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipp'd out,

when

     Lady the brach may stand by th' fire and stink.

  Lear. A pestilent gall to me!

  Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.

  Lear. Do.

  Fool. Mark it, nuncle.

          Have more than thou showest,

          Speak less than thou knowest,

          Lend less than thou owest,

          Ride more than thou goest,

          Learn more than thou trowest,

          Set less than thou throwest;

          Leave thy drink and thy whore,

          And keep in-a-door,

          And thou shalt have more

          Than two tens to a score.

  Kent. This is nothing, fool.

  Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an unfeed lawyer- you gave

me

     nothing for't. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle?

  Lear. Why, no, boy. Nothing can be made out of nothing.

  Fool. [to Kent] Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his land

     comes to. He will not believe a fool.

  Lear. A bitter fool!

  Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter

     fool and a sweet fool?

  Lear. No, lad; teach me.

  Fool. That lord that counsell'd thee

            To give away thy land,

          Come place him here by me-

            Do thou for him stand.

          The sweet and bitter fool

            Will presently appear;

          The one in motley here,

            The other found out there.

  Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy?

  Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast

     born with.

  Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord.

  Fool. No, faith; lords and great men will not let me. If I had

a

     monopoly out, they would have part on't. And ladies too,

they

     will not let me have all the fool to myself; they'll be

     snatching. Give me an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee two

     crowns.

  Lear. What two crowns shall they be?

  Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i' th' middle and eat up

the

     meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown

i'

     th' middle and gav'st away both parts, thou bor'st thine ass

on

     thy back o'er the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald

crown

     when thou gav'st thy golden one away. If I speak like myself

in

     this, let him be whipp'd that first finds it so.

     [Sings] Fools had ne'er less grace in a year,

                  For wise men are grown foppish;

                They know not how their wits to wear,

                  Their manners are so apish.

  Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?

  Fool. I have us'd it, nuncle, ever since thou mad'st thy

daughters

     thy mother; for when thou gav'st them the rod, and put'st

down

     thine own breeches,

     [Sings] Then they for sudden joy did weep,

                  And I for sorrow sung,

                That such a king should play bo-peep

                  And go the fools among.

     Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool

to

     lie. I would fain learn to lie.

  Lear. An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd.

  Fool. I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. They'll

have me

     whipp'd for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipp'd for

lying;

     and sometimes I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had

rather be

     any kind o' thing than a fool! And yet I would not be thee,

     nuncle. Thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides and left

nothing

     i' th' middle. Here comes one o' the parings.

  Lear. How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on? Methinks

you

     are too much o' late i' th' frown.

  Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care

for

     her frowning. Now thou art an O without a figure. I am

better

     than thou art now: I am a fool, thou art nothing.

     [To Goneril] Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue. So your

face

     bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum!

            He that keeps nor crust nor crum,

            Weary of all, shall want some. -

     [Points at Lear] That's a sheal'd peascod.

  Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool,

     But other of your insolent retinue

     Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth

     In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir,

     I had thought, by making this well known unto you,

     To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful,

     By what yourself, too, late have spoke and done,

     That you protect this course, and put it on

     By your allowance; which if you should, the fault

     Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,

     Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,

     Might in their working do you that offence

     Which else were shame, that then necessity

     Must call discreet proceeding.

  Fool. For you know, nuncle,

          The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long

          That it had it head bit off by it young.

     So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.

  Lear. Are you our daughter?

  Gon. Come, sir,

     I would you would make use of that good wisdom

     Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away

     These dispositions that of late transform you

     From what you rightly are.

  Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse?

     Whoop, Jug, I love thee!

  Lear. Doth any here know me? This is not Lear.

     Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?

     Either his notion weakens, his discernings

     Are lethargied- Ha! waking? 'Tis not so!

     Who is it that can tell me who I am?

  Fool. Lear's shadow.

  Lear. I would learn that; for, by the marks of sovereignty,

     Knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded

     I had daughters.

  Fool. Which they will make an obedient father.

  Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman?

  Gon. This admiration, sir, is much o' th' savour

     Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you

     To understand my purposes aright.

     As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.

     Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;

     Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd, and bold

     That this our court, infected with their manners,

     Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust

     Make it more like a tavern or a brothel

     Than a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak

     For instant remedy. Be then desir'd

     By her that else will take the thing she begs

     A little to disquantity your train,

     And the remainder that shall still depend

     To be such men as may besort your age,

     Which know themselves, and you.

  Lear. Darkness and devils!

     Saddle my horses! Call my train together!

     Degenerate bastard, I'll not trouble thee;

     Yet have I left a daughter.

  Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rabble

     Make servants of their betters.

  Lear. Woe that too late repents! – O, sir, are you come?

     Is it your will? Speak, sir! – Prepare my horses.

     Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,

     More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child

     Than the sea-monster!

  Alb. Pray, sir, be patient.

  Lear. [to Goneril] Detested kite, thou liest!

     My train are men of choice and rarest parts,

     That all particulars of duty know

     And in the most exact regard support

     The worships of their name. – O most small fault,

     How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!

     Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature

     From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love

     And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!

     Beat at this gate that let thy folly in [Strikes his head.]

     And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people.

  Alb. My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant

     Of what hath mov'd you.

  Lear. It may be so, my lord.

     Hear, Nature, hear! dear goddess, hear!

     Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend

     To make this creature fruitful.

     Into her womb convey sterility;

     Dry up in her the organs of increase;

     And from her derogate body never spring

     A babe to honour her! If she must teem,

     Create her child of spleen, that it may live

     And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her.

     Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,

     With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks,

     Turn all her mother's pains and benefits

     To laughter and contempt, that she may feel

     How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is

     To have a thankless child! Away, away! Exit.

  Alb. Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this?

  Gon. Never afflict yourself to know the cause;

     But let his disposition have that scope

     That dotage gives it.

  Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap?

     Within a fortnight?

  Alb. What's the matter, sir?

  Lear. I'll tell thee. [To Goneril] Life and death! I am asham'd

     That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;

     That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,

     Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!

     Th' untented woundings of a father's curse

     Pierce every sense about thee! – Old fond eyes,

     Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,

     And cast you, with the waters that you lose,

     To temper clay. Yea, is it come to this?

     Let it be so. Yet have I left a daughter,

     Who I am sure is kind and comfortable.

     When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails

     She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find

     That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think

     I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.

  Gon. Do you mark that, my lord?

  Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril,

     To the great love I bear you -

  Gon. Pray you, content. – What, Oswald, ho!

     [To the Fool] You, sir, more knave than fool, after your

master!

  Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry! Take the fool with thee.