quinta-feira, 7 de fevereiro de 2013

William Shakespeare, "King Lear" (Act 1, Scene 1)

    Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. 
    Give me the map there. Know that we have divided 
    In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent 
    To shake all cares and business from our age; 
    Conferring them on younger strengths, while we 
    Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall, 
    And you, our no less loving son of Albany, 
    We have this hour a constant will to publish 
    Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife 
    May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, 
    Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, 
    Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, 
    And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters,-- 
    Since now we will divest us both of rule, 
    Interest of territory, cares of state,-- 
    Which of you shall we say doth love us most? 
    That we our largest bounty may extend 
    Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril, 
    Our eldest-born, speak first. 

    Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; 
    Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty; 
    Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; 
    No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; 
    As much as child e'er loved, or father found; 
    A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable; 
    Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 

    [Aside] What shall Cordelia do? 
    Love, and be silent. 

    Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, 
    With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd, 
    With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, 
    We make thee lady: to thine and Albany's issue 
    Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter, 
    Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak. 

    Sir, I am made 
    Of the self-same metal that my sister is, 
    And prize me at her worth. In my true heart 
    I find she names my very deed of love; 
    Only she comes too short: that I profess 
    Myself an enemy to all other joys, 
    Which the most precious square of sense possesses; 
    And find I am alone felicitate 
    In your dear highness' love. 

    [Aside] Then poor Cordelia! 
    And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's

    More richer than my tongue. 

    To thee and thine hereditary ever 
    Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom; 
    No less in space, validity, and pleasure, 
    Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now, our joy, 
    Although the last, not least; to whose young love 
    The vines of France and milk of Burgundy 
    Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw 
    A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. 

    Nothing, my lord. 



    Nothing will come of nothing: speak again. 

    Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 
    My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty 
    According to my bond; nor more nor less. 

    How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little, 
    Lest it may mar your fortunes. 

    Good my lord, 
    You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I 
    Return those duties back as are right fit, 
    Obey you, love you, and most honour you. 
    Why have my sisters husbands, if they say 
    They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, 
    That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry 
    Half my love with him, half my care and duty: 
    Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, 
    To love my father all. 

    But goes thy heart with this? 

    Ay, good my lord. 

    So young, and so untender? 

    So young, my lord, and true.

Shakespeare, W. (2003). King Lear

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