ARKCODEX
Act I, Scene 2
1The Earl of Gloucester’s castle.
2Enter Edmund, with a letter.
3EdmundThou, 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 moon-shines
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!
4Enter Gloucester.
5GloucesterKent banish’d thus! and France in choler parted!
And the king gone to-night! subscribed his power!
Confined to exhibition! All this done
Upon the gad! Edmund, how now! what news?
6EdmundSo please your lordship, none. Putting up the letter.
7GloucesterWhy so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?
8EdmundI know no news, my lord.
9GloucesterWhat paper were you reading?
10EdmundNothing, my lord.
11GloucesterNo? 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.
12EdmundI 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 perused, I find it not fit for your o’er-looking.
13GloucesterGive me the letter, sir.
14EdmundI shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.
15GloucesterLet’s see, let’s see.
16EdmundI hope, for my brother’s justification, he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.
17GloucesterReads. “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 half his revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your brother, Edgar.”
18Hum—conspiracy!—“Sleep till I waked 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?
19EdmundIt was not brought me, my lord; there’s the cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.
20GloucesterYou know the character to be your brother’s?
21EdmundIf the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; but, in respect of that, I would fain think it were not.
22GloucesterIt is his.
23EdmundIt is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is not in the contents.
24GloucesterHath he never heretofore sounded you in this business?
25EdmundNever, my lord: but I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declining, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.
26GloucesterO 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?
27EdmundI 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 shall 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 wrote this to feel my affection to your honour, and to no further pretence of danger.
28GloucesterThink you so?
29EdmundIf 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.
30GloucesterHe cannot be such a monster—
31EdmundNor is not, sure.
32GloucesterTo 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.
33EdmundI will seek him, sir, presently: convey the business as I shall find means and acquaint you withal.
34GloucesterThese 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. Exit.
35EdmundThis is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune—often the surfeit of our own behavior—we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we were villains by 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. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar—
36Enter Edgar.
37And 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.
38EdgarHow now, brother Edmund! what serious contemplation are you in?
39EdmundI am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.
40EdgarDo you busy yourself about that?
41EdmundI 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.
42EdgarHow long have you been a sectary astronomical?
43EdmundCome, come; when saw you my father last?
44EdgarWhy, the night gone by.
45EdmundSpake you with him?
46EdgarAy, two hours together.
47EdmundParted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by word or countenance?
48EdgarNone at all.
49EdmundBethink yourself wherein you may have offended him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence till 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.
50EdgarSome villain hath done me wrong.
51EdmundThat’s my fear. I pray you, have a continent forbearance till the spied 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.
52EdgarArmed, brother!
53EdmundBrother, I advise you to the best; go armed: I am no honest man if there be any good meaning towards you: I have told you what I have seen and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it: pray you, away.
54EdgarShall I hear from you anon?
55EdmundI do serve you in this business. Exit Edgar.
56A 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. Exit.