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  • Title: King Lear (Quarto 1, 1608)
  • Editor: Michael Best
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-463-9

    Copyright Michael Best. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Michael Best
    Not Peer Reviewed

    King Lear (Quarto 1, 1608)

    The Historie of King Lear.
    Kent. With you goodman boy, and you please come, 1120ile
    flea sh you, come on yong mai ster.
    Glo st . Weapons, armes, whats the matter here?
    Duke. Keepe peace vpon your liues, hee dies that strikes a-
    gaine, what's the matter?
    Reg. The me s s engers from our si ster, and the King.
    1125 Duke. Whats your difference, speake?
    Stew. I am scarse in breath my Lord.
    Kent. No maruaile you haue so be stir'd your valour, you
    cowardly rascall, nature disclaimes in thee, a Tayler made thee.
    1130 Duke. Thou art a strange fellow, a Taylor make a man.
    Kent. I, a Tayler sir; a Stone-cutter, or a Painter could not
    haue made him so ill, though hee had beene but two houres at
    the trade.
    Glo st . Speake yet, how grew your quarrell?
    1135 Stew. This ancient ruffen sir, whose life I haue spar'd at sute
    of his gray-beard.
    Kent. Thou whorson Zedd, thou vnnece s s arie letter, my
    Lord if you'l giue mee leaue, I will tread this vnboulted villaine
    into morter, and daube the walles of a 1140iaques with him, spare
    my gray beard you wagtayle.
    Duke. Peace sir, you bea stly Knaue you haue no reuerence.
    Kent. Yes sir, but anger has a priuiledge.
    Duke. Why art thou angry?
    1145 Kent. That such a slaue as this should weare a sword,
    That weares no hone sty, such smiling roges as these,
    Like Rats oft bite those cordes in twaine,
    Which are to intrench, to inloose smooth euery pa s sion
    That in the natures of their Lords rebell,
    1150 Bring oyle to stir, snow to their colder-moods,
    Reneag, affirme, and turne their halcion beakes
    With euery gale and varie of their mai sters,
    Knowing nought like dayes but following, a plague vpon your (epeliptick
    Visage, 1155 smoyle you my speeches, as I were a foole?
    Goose and I had you vpon Sarum plaine,
    Id'e send you cackling home to Camulet.,
    Duke. What art thou mad old fellow?
    Glo st . How fell you out, say that?