No Fear Shakespeare
King Lear
Get this No Fear to go!
Act 4, Scene 2, Page 3
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Could my good brother suffer you to do it—
A man, a prince by him so benefited?
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame these vile offenses,
It will come:
Humanity must perforce prey on itself
Like monsters of the deep.
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king gave half his kingdom—have allowed you to do it? If the heavens don’t punish these crimes immediately, the end will come. Human beings will become cannibals, like ravenous sea fishes.
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GONERIL
Milk-livered man
That bear’st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs—
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honor from thy suffering; that not know’st
Fools do those villains pity who are punished
Ere they have done their mischief. Where’s thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land,
With plumèd helm thy state begins to threat,
Whiles thou, a moral fool, sits still and cries,
“Alack, why does he so?”
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GONERIL
Coward! You take everything lying down, you just turn the other cheek—you can’t even see the difference between being honored and being taken advantage of! If we punish criminals before they have a chance to commit their crimes, you’re a fool to pity them. Why aren’t you preparing for war? The French have invaded our peaceful country. Your territory is at risk, and all you can do is sit around like a preachy fool and whine, “Ah, why is he doing that?”
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ALBANY
See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity shows not in the fiend
So horrid as in woman.
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ALBANY
Look at yourself, devilish shrew! A woman deformed by hatred and rage is more horrifying than the devil!—at least the devil is supposed to look that way.
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GONERIL
O vain fool!
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GONERIL
You useless fool!
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ALBANY
Thou changèd and self-covered thing, for shame!
Bemonster not thy feature. Were ’t my fitness
To let these hands obey my blood,
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones. Howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman’s shape doth shield thee.
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ALBANY
Shame on you, warped hag! Your true demonic features are distorting your body. If I let myself do what I yearn to, I’d rip the flesh off your bones. But I won’t attack a woman, even if she is a demon.
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GONERIL
Marry, your manhood, mew!
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GONERIL
I sneeze on your manhood. Ha!
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Enter FIRST MESSENGER
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The FIRST MESSENGER enters. |
