King Lear, Act 1, Scene 2

Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law My services are bound. Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom, and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me? For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base? When my dimensions are as well compact, My mind as generous, and my shape as true As honest madam’s issue? Why brand they us With base? With baseness? bastardy? Base, base? Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take More composition and fierce quality Than doth within a dull stale tired bed Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops Got ’tween asleep and wake? Well then, 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!

You, Nature, are my goddess; my service is bound to your law. Why should I stay inside the torment of custom, and let the fussy rules of nations rob me? Because I am some twelve or fourteen months younger than a brother? Why call me bastard? Why call me base? When my limbs are as well put together, my mind as noble, and my form as true as any lawful wife's child? Why do they brand us with base? With baseness? Bastardy? Base, base? We who, in the vigorous secrecy of nature, take in more strength and fierce quality than goes into making a whole tribe of fools conceived in some dull, stale, tired bed between sleeping and waking. Well then, legitimate Edgar, I must have your land. Our father's love goes to the bastard Edmund as much as to the legitimate. Fine word: legitimate! Well, my legitimate one, if this letter works and my scheme succeeds, Edmund the base shall rise above the legitimate. I grow, I prosper. Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

Kent banish’d thus! and France in choler parted! And the King gone tonight! Prescrib’d his pow’r! Confin’d to exhibition! All this done Upon the gad!—Edmund, how now! What news?

Kent banished like that! And France gone off in anger! And the King leaving tonight! His power cut back! Reduced to an allowance! All of it done on the spur of the moment! Edmund, well now! What news?

So please your lordship, none.

If it please your lordship, none.

Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?

Why are you trying so hard to put that letter away?

I know no news, my lord.

I know of no news, my lord.

What paper were you reading?

What paper were you reading?

Nothing, my lord.

Nothing, my lord.

No? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let’s see. Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.

No? Then why did you need to shove it so frantically into your pocket? A thing that is nothing has no such need to hide itself. Let me see it. Come, if it is nothing, I shall not need glasses.

I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother that I have not all o’er-read; and for so much as I have perus’d, I find it not fit for your o’er-looking.

I beg you, sir, excuse me. It is a letter from my brother that I have not read all the way through; and from what I have read, I find it not fit for you to look at.

Give me the letter, sir.

Give me the letter, sir.

I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.

I will do wrong whether I keep it back or hand it over. The contents, as far as I understand them, are to blame.

Let’s see, let’s see!

Let me see, let me see!

I hope, for my brother’s justification, he wrote this but as an essay, or taste of my virtue.

I hope, in my brother's defence, that he wrote this only as a trial, a test of how virtuous I am.

[Reads.] ‘This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways not as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your brother EDGAR.’ Hum! Conspiracy? ‘Sleep till I wake him, you should enjoy half his revenue.’—My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? A heart and brain to breed it in? When came this to you? Who brought it?

[He reads.] 'This established respect for old age makes the world bitter for us in our best years; it keeps our fortunes from us until we are too old to enjoy them. I am beginning to find the oppression of aged tyranny a pointless and foolish slavery, since it rules not because it has the power but because we put up with it. Come to me, so I can say more about this. If our father would sleep until I woke him, you would have half his income for ever, and live as the beloved of your brother, EDGAR.' Hm! Conspiracy? 'Sleep till I wake him, you should have half his income.' My son Edgar! Did he have a hand to write this? A heart and brain to breed it in? When did this come to you? Who brought it?

It was not brought me, my lord, there’s the cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.

It was not brought to me, my lord; that is the clever part of it. I found it thrown in through the window of my room.

You know the character to be your brother’s?

You know the handwriting to be your brother's?

If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; but in respect of that, I would fain think it were not.

If the subject were a good one, my lord, I would dare to swear it was his; but considering what it says, I would like to think it was not.

It is his.

It is his.

It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is not in the contents.

It is his handwriting, my lord; but I hope his heart is not in what it says.

Has he never before sounded you in this business?

Has he never sounded you out about this business before?

Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declined, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.

Never, my lord. But I have often heard him argue that it would be right, when sons are fully grown and fathers are past their prime, for the father to be the son's dependent and the son to manage his income.

O villain, villain! His very opinion in the letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain! worse than brutish! Go, sirrah, seek him; I’ll apprehend him. Abominable villain, Where is he?

Oh, villain, villain! His very opinion, there in the letter! Loathsome villain! Unnatural, hateful, brutish villain — worse than brutish! Go, boy, find him; I will arrest him. Disgusting villain! Where is he?

I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course; where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him, that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour, and to no other pretence of danger.

I do not really know, my lord. If it would please you to hold back your anger against my brother until you can get better evidence from him of what he intends, you would be taking a safe course; whereas if you move violently against him and have mistaken his purpose, it would tear a great hole in your own honour and shatter his obedient heart to pieces. I dare stake my life as a pledge for him that he wrote this to test my affection towards your honour, and with no other dangerous intention.

Think you so?

Do you think so?

If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction, and that without any further delay than this very evening.

If your honour thinks it suitable, I will put you where you can hear us talk about this, and get your satisfaction by hearing it with your own ears — and that with no further delay than this very evening.

He cannot be such a monster.

He cannot be such a monster.

Nor is not, sure.

He is not, surely.

To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray you: frame the business after your own wisdom. I would unstate myself to be in a due resolution.

To his father, who loves him so tenderly and completely. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him out; work your way into his confidence for me, I beg you; arrange the matter as your own judgement tells you. I would give up all my rank and property to know the truth of it for certain.

I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.

I will go and find him, sir, at once; I will manage the business as I find the means, and let you know about it.

These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us: though the wisdom of Nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked ’twixt son and father. 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. We have seen the best of our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully.—And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his offence, honesty! ’Tis strange.

These recent eclipses of the sun and moon promise us nothing good. Though learned science can explain them this way and that, still nature finds itself whipped by the effects that follow. Love goes cold, friendship falls away, brothers split apart; in cities, riots; in the countryside, strife; in palaces, treason; and the bond between son and father cracked. This villain of mine falls under the prediction: there is son against father. The King turns aside from his natural inclination: there is father against child. We have seen the best of our time. Plots, emptiness, treachery and all ruinous disorders follow us in turmoil to our graves. Track down this villain, Edmund; it will cost you nothing; do it carefully. And the noble, true-hearted Kent banished! His offence, honesty! It is strange.

This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, often the surfeits of our own behaviour, we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star. My father compounded with my mother under the dragon’s tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows I am rough and lecherous. Fut! I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.

This is the splendid foolishness of the world: that when we are sick in our fortunes — often from overindulging in our own behaviour — we blame our disasters on the sun, the moon and the stars, as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, rogues, thieves and traitors because one sphere dominated another, drunkards, liars and adulterers by forced obedience to the influence of the planets, and everything we do wrong by some divine push. An admirable excuse for a lecherous man, to put his goatish appetite down to the account of a star. My father coupled with my mother under the dragon's tail, and I was born under the Great Bear, so it follows that I am rough and lustful. Nonsense! I would have been what I am if the most virginal star in the sky had twinkled on my conception.

Pat! he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy: my cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o’Bedlam.—O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! Fa, sol, la, mi.

Right on time! He comes on like the ending of an old-fashioned comedy. My part is a wicked gloom, with a sigh like a madman begging on the road. Oh, these eclipses do foretell these splits! Fa, sol, la, mi.

How now, brother Edmund, what serious contemplation are you in?

Well now, brother Edmund, what serious thoughts are you lost in?

I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.

I am thinking, brother, about a prediction I read the other day, about what is supposed to follow these eclipses.

Do you busy yourself with that?

Do you bother yourself with that?

I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily: as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against King and nobles; needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.

I assure you, the effects he writes about do turn out badly: unnatural behaviour between child and parent; death, famine, the breaking up of old friendships; divisions in the state, threats and curses against the King and the nobles; groundless suspicions, the banishing of friends, the breaking up of army units, broken marriages, and I do not know what else.

How long have you been a sectary astronomical?

How long have you been a follower of astrology?

Come, come! when saw you my father last?

Come, come! When did you last see my father?

The night gone by.

Last night.

Spake you with him?

Did you speak with him?

Ay, two hours together.

Yes, for two hours together.

Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him, by word nor countenance?

Did you part on good terms? Did you notice any displeasure in him, in his words or his face?

None at all.

None at all.

Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay.

Think hard about how you may have offended him; and at my request, keep out of his sight until a little time has cooled the heat of his anger, which at this moment rages so in him that it would hardly be calmed even by doing you bodily harm.

Some villain hath done me wrong.

Some villain has wronged me.

That’s my fear. I pray you have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak: pray ye, go; there’s my key. If you do stir abroad, go armed.

That is my fear too. Please keep out of his way with self-control until his rage slows down; and, as I say, come with me to my rooms, and from there I will bring you at the right moment to hear my lord speak. Please go; here is my key. If you do go out, go armed.

Armed, brother?

Armed, brother?

Brother, I advise you to the best; I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you: I have told you what I have seen and heard. But faintly; nothing like the image and horror of it: pray you, away!

Brother, I am advising you for the best. I am no honest man if there is any good will towards you. I have told you what I have seen and heard — but only mildly; nothing like the true picture and horror of it. Please, get away!

Shall I hear from you anon?

Will I hear from you soon?

I do serve you in this business.

I am at your service in this business.

A credulous father! and a brother noble, Whose nature is so far from doing harms That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty My practices 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.

A father who believes anything! And a noble brother, whose nature is so far from doing harm that he suspects none in others; on whose foolish honesty my schemes ride easily! I see how this will go. Let me get lands by my wits, if not by birth. Anything is right with me that I can shape to my purpose.