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her heart. Is there any căușe în nature that make these hard hearts? [To Edgar] You, șir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your garments. You will say they are Persian; but let them be changed. KENT: Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile. LEAR: Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains. Șo, șo. We'll go to supper i' th' morning. FOOL: And I'll go to
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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make no noise; draw the curtains. Șo, șo. We'll go to supper i' th' morning. FOOL: And I'll go to bed at noon. Enter Gloucester. GLOUCESTER: Come hither, friend. Where is the King my master? KENT: Here șir, but trouble hîm not; hîș wits are gone. GLOUCESTER: Good friend, I prithee take hîm în thy arms. I have o'erheard a plot of death upon hîm. There is a litter ready; lay hîm in't And drive toward Dover
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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tot. KENT: Sleita, firea doarme. Ast somn ar fi balsam pe forțele-i zdrobite Ce, dacă-mprejurări nu-ngădui-vor, Se vindeca-vor greu. (Bufonului) Ajută-mă să-l duc, Nu stă în urmă. GLOUCESTER: Come, come, away! Exeunt [all but Edgar.] EDGAR: When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes. Who alone suffers suffers most i'th'mind, Leaving free things and happy shows behind; But then the mind much sufferance doth o
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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urmă. GLOUCESTER: Come, come, away! Exeunt [all but Edgar.] EDGAR: When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes. Who alone suffers suffers most i'th'mind, Leaving free things and happy shows behind; But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip 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. He childed aș I fathered. Tom, away
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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hîm like a thief, bring hîm before uș. [Exeunt other Servants.] Though well we may not pass upon hîș life Without the form of justice, yet our power Shall do a court'sy to our wrath, which men May blame, but not control. Enter Gloucester, brought în by two or three. Who's there, the trăitor? REGAN: Ingrateful fox, 'tis he. CORNWALL: Bînd fast hîș corky arms. GLOUCESTER: What means your Graces? Good my friends, consider You are my guests. Do
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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buoyed up And quenched the stelled fires. Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. If wolves had at thy gate howled that dearn time, Thou shouldst have said. "Good porter, turn the key." All cruels else subscribe. But I shall see The winged vengeance overtake such children. CORNWALL: See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair. Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot. GLOUCESTER: He that will think to live till he be old
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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Give me some help. O cruel! O you gods! REGAN: One side will mock another. Th' other too. CORNWALL: If you see vengeance FIRST SERVANT: Hold your hand, my lord! I have served you ever since I was a child; But better service have I never done you Than now to bid you hold. REGAN: How now, you dog? FIRST SERVANT: If you did wear a beard upon your chin, I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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lamentable change is from the best, The worst returns to laughter. Welcome then, Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace! The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst Owes nothing to thy blasts. Enter Gloucester, led by an Old Man. But who comes here? My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make uș hate thee, Life would not yield to age. OLD MAN: O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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then, Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace! The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst Owes nothing to thy blasts. Enter Gloucester, led by an Old Man. But who comes here? My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make uș hate thee, Life would not yield to age. OLD MAN: O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and your father's, tenant, these fourscore years. GLOUCESTER: Away, get thee away; good friend
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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ochi nu mi-s de lipsă. I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen, Our means secure uș, and our mere defects Prove our commodities. Oh, dear son Edgar, The food of thy abused father's wrath! Might I but live to see thee în my touch, I'd say I had eyes again! OLD MAN: How now! Who's there? EDGAR [Aside]: O gods! Who is't can say "I am at the worst"? I am worse than e
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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Fiindcă nu simte, iute-ți simte forță: Buna-mpărțire-ar nimici excesul Și-oricare ar avea destul. Știi Dover? EDGAR: Ay, master. Gloucester: There is a cliff whose high and bending head Looks fearfully în the confined deep: Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear With something rich about me: from that place I shall no leading need. EDGAR: Give me thy arm: Poor Tom shall lead thee. Exeunt. SCENE
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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thee. Exeunt. SCENE ÎI [Before the Duke of Albany's palace.] Enter Goneril and Edmund. GONERIL: Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband Not met uș on the way. Enter Oswald. Now, where's your master? OSWALD: Madam, within; but never man șo changed. I told hîm of the army that was landed: He smiled at it. I told hîm you were coming; Hîș answer was. "The worse." Of Gloucester's treachery, And of the loyal service of hîș son
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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certain în itself; She that herself will sliver and disbranch From her material sap, perforce must wither And come to deadly use. GONERIL: No more; the text is foolish. ALBANY: Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile: Filths savor but themselves. What have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what have you performed? Ce-obligă la răspuns. Ce ne-am dorit pe drum Poate-izbîndi. Te-ntoarce l-al meu frate; Grăbește pregătirea, condu-i oastea. Schimba-voi casei rostul: voi da
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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other eye of Gloucester. ALBANY: Gloucester's eyes! MESSENGER: A servant that he bred, thrilled with remorse, Opposed against the act, bending hîș sword To hîș great master, who thereat enraged Flew on hîm, and amongst them felled hîm dead, But not without that harmful stroke which since Hath plucked hîm after. ALBANY: This shows you are above, You justicers, that these our nether crimes Șo speedily can venge. But, O poor Gloucester! Lost he hîș other eye? MESSENGER: Both, both
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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thereat enraged Flew on hîm, and amongst them felled hîm dead, But not without that harmful stroke which since Hath plucked hîm after. ALBANY: This shows you are above, You justicers, that these our nether crimes Șo speedily can venge. But, O poor Gloucester! Lost he hîș other eye? MESSENGER: Both, both, my lord. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; 'Tis from your sister. GONERIL: [Aside]: One way I like this well; But being widow, and my Gloucester with her
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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our nether crimes Șo speedily can venge. But, O poor Gloucester! Lost he hîș other eye? MESSENGER: Both, both, my lord. This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; 'Tis from your sister. GONERIL: [Aside]: One way I like this well; But being widow, and my Gloucester with her, May all the building în my fancy pluck Upon my hateful life. Another way, The news is not șo tart. I'll read, and answer. Exit. ALBANY: Where was hîș son when they
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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hitherward. CORDELIA: 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands În expectation of them. O dear father, It is thy business that I go about; Therefore great France My mourning and importuned tears hath pitied. No blown ambition doth our arms incite, But love, dear love, and our aged father's right: Soon may I hear and see hîm! Exeunt. SCENE V Gloucester's castle. Enter Regan and Oswald. REGAN: But are my brother 's pow'rs set forth? OSWALD: Ay, madam. REGAN
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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and importuned tears hath pitied. No blown ambition doth our arms incite, But love, dear love, and our aged father's right: Soon may I hear and see hîm! Exeunt. SCENE V Gloucester's castle. Enter Regan and Oswald. REGAN: But are my brother 's pow'rs set forth? OSWALD: Ay, madam. REGAN: Himself în person there? OSWALD: Madam, with much ado: Your sister is the better soldier. REGAN: Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? OSWALD: No, madam
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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senses grow imperfect By your eyes' anguish. GLOUCESTER: Șo may it be indeed. Methinks thy voice is altered, and thou speak'st În better phrase and matter than thou didst. EDGAR: You're much deceived: în nothing am I changed But în my garments. GLOUCESTER: Methinks y'are better spoken. EDGAR: Come on, șir; here's the place: stand still. How fearful And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes șo low! The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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By this had thought been past. Alive or dead? Ho, you șir! friend! Hear you, șir! speak! Thus might he pass indeed; yet he revives. What are you, șir? GLOUCESTER: Away, and let me die. EDGAR: Hadst thou aught been but gossamer, feathers, air, Șo many fathom down precipitating, Thou'dst shivered like an egg: but thou dost breathe; Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound. Ten masts at each make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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șir! speak! Thus might he pass indeed; yet he revives. What are you, șir? GLOUCESTER: Away, and let me die. EDGAR: Hadst thou aught been but gossamer, feathers, air, Șo many fathom down precipitating, Thou'dst shivered like an egg: but thou dost breathe; Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound. Ten masts at each make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell: Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again. GLOUCESTER: But have I fall'n
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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shivered like an egg: but thou dost breathe; Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound. Ten masts at each make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell: Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again. GLOUCESTER: But have I fall'n, or no? EDGAR: From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark șo far Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up. GLOUCESTER: Alack, I have no eyes. Is wretchedness
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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fell: Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again. GLOUCESTER: But have I fall'n, or no? EDGAR: From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark șo far Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up. GLOUCESTER: Alack, I have no eyes. Is wretchedness deprived that benefit. To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort, When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage And frustrate hîș proud will. EDGAR: Give me your arm
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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enough," and die. That thing you speak of, I took it for a man; often 'twould say "The fiend, the fiend" he led me to that place. EDGAR: Bear free and patient thoughts. Enter Lear [fantastically dressed with wild flowers.] But who comes here? The safer sense will ne'er accommodate Hîș master thus. LEAR: No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the King himself. EDGAR: O thou side-piercing sight! LEAR: Nature's above art în that respect. There
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]
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snow, That minces virtue and does shake the head To hear of pleasure's name. The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 'ț With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are Centaurs, Though women all above: But to the girdle to the gods inherit, Beneath is all the fiend's. There's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit, Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie, fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet; good
by William Shakespeare [Corola-publishinghouse/Science/1030_a_2538]