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William Shakespeare

King Lear

The messцитуєминулого місяця
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to the legitimate: fine word,—legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
The messцитуєминулого місяця
If he dislike it, let him to our sister,
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man,
That still would manage those authorities
That he hath given away! Now, by my life,
Old fools are babes again; and must be used
With cheques as flatteries,—when they are seen abused.
The messцитуєминулого місяця
By day and night he wrongs me; every hour
He flashes into one gross crime or other,
That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it:
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us
On every trifle. When he returns from hunting,
I will not speak with him; say I am sick:
If you come slack of former services,
You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.
The messцитуєминулого місяця
A credulous father! and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty
My practises ride easy! I see the business.
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit:
All with me's meet that I can fashion fit.

question 3

The messцитуєминулого місяця
This villain of mine comes under the
prediction; there's son against father: the king
falls from bias of nature; there's father against
child.
The messцитуєминулого місяця
Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect
My love should kindle to inflamed respect.
The messцитуєминулого місяця
my love's
More richer than my tongue
Ghafeela Sohailцитує9 місяців тому
That we the pain of death would hourly die
Rather than die at once!
Ghafeela Sohailцитує9 місяців тому
This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble,
Touches us not with pity.
Ghafeela Sohailцитує9 місяців тому
The weight of this sad time we must obey;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most: we that are young
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.
Ghafeela Sohailцитує9 місяців тому
If fortune brag of two she loved and hated,
One of them we behold
Ghafeela Sohailцитує10 місяців тому
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 pigmy'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 the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes;
And like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not.
Ghafeela Sohailцитує10 місяців тому
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand!
Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back;
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind
For which thou whipp'st her
Ghafeela Sohailцитує10 місяців тому
Gentleman

Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears
Were like a better way: those happy smilets,
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief,
Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,
If all could so become it.
Ghafeela Sohailцитує10 місяців тому
that I am wretched
Makes thee the happier: heavens, deal so still!
Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see
Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly;
So distribution should undo excess,
And each man have enough.
Ghafeela Sohailцитує10 місяців тому
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods.
They kill us for their sport.
Ghafeela Sohailцитує10 місяців тому
O dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath!
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,
I'ld say I had eyes again
Ghafeela Sohailцитує10 місяців тому
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter
Ghafeela Sohailцитує10 місяців тому
EDGAR

When we our betters see bearing our woes,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
Who alone suffers suffers most i' the mind,
Leaving free things and happy shows behind:
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er skip,
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
How light and portable my pain seems now,
When that which makes me bend makes the king bow,
Ghafeela Sohailцитує10 місяців тому
He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a
horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath
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