"George Gordon, Lord Byron. The deformed transformed " - читать интересную книгу автораYou nursed me-do not kill me!
Bert. Yes-I nursed thee, Because thou wert my first-born, and I knew not If there would be another unlike thee, That monstrous sport of Nature. But get hence, And gather wood! Arn. I will: but when I bring it, Speak to me kindly. Though my brothers are So beautiful and lusty, and as free As the free chase they follow, do not spurn me: Our milk has been the same. Bert. As is the hedgehog's, Which sucks at midnight from the wholesome dam Of the young bull, until the milkmaid finds The nipple, next day, sore, and udder dry. Call not thy brothers brethren! Call me not Mother; for if I brought thee forth, it was As foolish hens at times hatch vipers, by Sitting upon strange eggs. Out, urchin, out! Arn. (solus). Oh, mother!-She is gone, and I must do Her bidding;-wearily but willingly I would fulfil it, could I only hope A kind word in return. What shall I do? [Arnold begins to cut wood: in doing this he wounds one of his hands. My labour for the day is over now. Accursed be this blood that flows so fast; For double curses will be my meed now At home-What home? I have no home, no kin, No kind-not made like other creatures, or To share their sports or pleasures. Must I bleed, too, Like them? Oh, that each drop which falls to earth Would rise a snake to sting them, as they have stung me! Or that the Devil, to whom they liken me, Would aid his likeness! If I must partake His form, why not his power? Is it because I have not his will too? For one kind word From her who bore me would still reconcile me Even to this hateful aspect. Let me wash |
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