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An Antichamber in KING LEAR’s Palace.

Enter EDMUND. Edm. Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law My services are bound: why am I then Depriv'd of a son's right, because I came not In the dull road that custom has prescrib'd Why bastard Wherefore base? when I can boast

A mind as gen’rous, and a shape as true

As honest madam's issue Why are we
Held base, who, in the lusty stealth of nature
Take fiercer qualities than what compound
The scanted births of the stale marriage-bed
Well then, legitimate Edgar, to thy right
Of law I will oppose a bastard's cunning.
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund

As to legitimate Edgar; with success

I've practis'd yet on both their easy natures—
Here comes the old man, chaf’d with the information,
Which last I forg'd against my brother Edgar;
A tale so plausible, so boldly utter'd,
And heighten’d by such lucky accidents,
That now the slightest circumstance confirms him,
And base-born Edmund, spite of law, inherits.

Enter KENT and GLost ER. Glost. Nay, good my Lord, your charity

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