Well then,Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.Our father’s love is to the bastard EdmundAs to the legitimate.—Fine word, “legitimate”!—
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?What paper were you reading?
Edmund, how now? What news?
Nothing, my lord.
So please your lordship, none.
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.
Give me the letter, sir.
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'erlooking.
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...If our father would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue forever, and live the beloved of your brother,Edgar.
my son Edgar? When came this to you? Who brought it?
It is his.
It was not brought me, my lord
It is his hand, my lord, but I hope his heart is not in the contents.
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?
Find out what this villainous Edgar is thinking, Edmund. You won’t lose any respect. Just do it carefully.
This villain of mine comes under the prediction—there’s son against father. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our graves.
I will seek him, sir, presently
Fut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar—