The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

This is not Brutus, friend, but, I assure you, A prize no less in worth. Keep this man safe, Give him all kindness; I had rather have Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, And see wheer Brutus be alive or dead, And bring us word unto Octavius’ tent How everything is chanced. Exeunt.

 

SCENE V.

Another part of the field.

 

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.

 

BRUTUS. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

CLITUS. Statilius show’d the torchlight, but, my lord, He came not back. He is or ta’en or slain.

BRUTUS. Sit thee down, Clitus. Slaying is the word: It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. Whispers.

CLITUS. What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world.

BRUTUS. Peace then, no words.

CLITUS. I’ll rather kill myself.

BRUTUS. Hark thee, Dardanius. Whispers.

DARDANIUS. Shall I do such a deed?

CLITUS. O Dardanius!

DARDANIUS. O Clitus!

CLITUS. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?

DARDANIUS. To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates.

CLITUS. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes.

BRUTUS. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word.

VOLUMNIUS. What says my lord?

BRUTUS. Why, this, Volumnius:

The ghost of Caesar hath appear’d to me Two several times by night; at Sardis once, And this last night here in Philippi fields.

I know my hour is come.

VOLUMNIUS. Not so, my lord.

BRUTUS. Nay I am sure it is, Volumnius.

Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Our enemies have beat us to the pit; Low alarums.

It is more worthy to leap in ourselves Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Thou know’st that we two went to school together; Even for that our love of old, I prithee, Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.

VOLUMNIUS. That’s not an office for a friend, my lord.

Alarum still.

CLITUS. Fly, fly, my lord, there is no tarrying here.

BRUTUS. Farewell to you, and you, and you, Volumnius.

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen, My heart doth joy that yet in all my life I found no man but he was true to me.

I shall have glory by this losing day, More than Octavius and Mark Antony

By this vile conquest shall attain unto.

So, fare you well at once, for Brutus’ tongue Hath almost ended his life’s history.

Night hangs upon mine eyes, my bones would rest That have but labor’d to attain this hour.

Alarum. Cry within, “Fly, fly, fly!”

CLITUS. Fly, my lord, fly.

BRUTUS. Hence! I will follow.

Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius.

I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord.

Thou art a fellow of a good respect;

Thy life hath had some smatch of honor in it.

Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

STRATO. Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord.

BRUTUS. Farewell, good Strato. Runs on his sword.

Caesar, now be still;

I kill’d not thee with half so good a will. Dies.

 

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Octavius, Antony, Messala, Lucilius, and the Army.

 

OCTAVIUS. What man is that?

MESSALA. My master’s man. Strato, where is thy master?

STRATO. Free from the bondage you are in, Messala: The conquerors can but make a fire of him; For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honor by his death.

LUCILIUS. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus, That thou hast proved Lucilius’ saying true.

OCTAVIUS. All that served Brutus, I will entertain them.

Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?

STRATO. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.

OCTAVIUS. Do so, good Messala.

MESSALA. How died my master, Strato?

STRATO. I held the sword, and he did run on it.

MESSALA. Octavius, then take him to follow thee That did the latest service to my master.

ANTONY. This was the noblest Roman of them all.

All the conspirators, save only he,

Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; He only, in a general honest thought

And common good to all, made one of them.

His life was gentle, and the elements So mix’d in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, “This was a man!”

OCTAVIUS. According to his virtue let us use him With all respect and rites of burial.

Within my tent his bones tonight shall lie, Most like a soldier, ordered honorably.

So call the field to rest, and let’s away, To part the glories of this happy day. Exeunt.

 

THE END

 

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1606

 

THE TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR

 

by William Shakespeare

 

Dramatis Personae

 

Lear, King of Britain.

King of France.

Duke of Burgundy.

Duke of Cornwall.

Duke of Albany.

Earl of Kent.

Earl of Gloucester.

Edgar, son of Gloucester.

Edmund, bastard son to Gloucester.

Curan, a courtier.

Old Man, tenant to Gloucester.

Doctor.

Lear’s Fool.

Oswald, steward to Goneril.

A Captain under Edmund’s command.

Gentlemen.

A Herald.

Servants to Cornwall.

 

Goneril, daughter to Lear.

Regan, daughter to Lear.

Cordelia, daughter to Lear.

 

Knights attending on Lear, Officers, Messengers, Soldiers, Attendants.

 

<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM

SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS

PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE

WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE

DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS

PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED

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Scene: - Britain.

 

ACT I. Scene I.

[King Lear’s Palace.]

 

Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund. [Kent and Glouceste converse.

Edmund stands back.]

 

Kent. I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.

Glou. It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the Dukes he values most, for equalities are so weigh’d that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moiety.

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord?

Glou. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blush’d to acknowledge him that now I am braz’d to’t.

Kent. I cannot conceive you.

Glou. Sir, this young fellow’s mother could; whereupon she grew round-womb’d, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.

Glou. But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came something saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.- Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?

Edm. [comes forward] No, my lord.

Glou. My Lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honourable friend.

Edm. My services to your lordship.

Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better.

Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving.

Glou. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again.

Sound a sennet.

The King is coming.

 

Enter one bearing a coronet; then Lear; then the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall; next, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, with Followers.

 

Lear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

Glou. I shall, my liege.

Exeunt [Gloucester and Edmund].

Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.

Give me the map there. Know we have divided In three our kingdom; and ‘tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths while we Unburthen’d crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall, And you, our no less loving son of Albany, We have this hour a constant will to publish Our daughters’ several dowers, that future strife May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, Great rivals in our youngest daughter’s love, Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, And here are to be answer’d. Tell me, my daughters (Since now we will divest us both of rule, Interest of territory, cares of state), Which of you shall we say doth love us most?

That we our largest bounty may extend Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril, Our eldest-born, speak first.

Gon. Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty; Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; As much as child e’er lov’d, or father found; A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable.

Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

Cor. [aside] What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent.

Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, With shadowy forests and with champains rich’d, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, We make thee lady. To thine and Albany’s issue Be this perpetual.- What says our second daughter, Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.

Reg. Sir, I am made

Of the selfsame metal that my sister is, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart I find she names my very deed of love; Only she comes too short, that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys

Which the most precious square of sense possesses, And find I am alone felicitate

In your dear Highness’ love.

Cor. [aside] Then poor Cordelia!

And yet not so; since I am sure my love’s More richer than my tongue.

Lear. To thee and thine hereditary ever Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom, No less in space, validity, and pleasure Than that conferr’d on Goneril.- Now, our joy, Although the last, not least; to whose young love The vines of France and milk of Burgundy Strive to be interest; what can you say to draw A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.

Cor. Nothing, my lord.

Lear. Nothing?

Cor. Nothing.

Lear. Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again.

Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave

My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty According to my bond; no more nor less.

Lear. How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little, Lest it may mar your fortunes.

Cor. Good my lord,

You have begot me, bred me, lov’d me; I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you.

Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry Half my love with him, half my care and duty.

Sure I shall never marry like my sisters, To love my father all.

Lear. But goes thy heart with this?

Cor. Ay, good my lord.

Lear. So young, and so untender?

Cor. So young, my lord, and true.

Lear. Let it be so! thy truth then be thy dower!

For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate and the night; By all the operation of the orbs

From whom we do exist and cease to be; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property