For those of you familiar with Shakespeare's King Lear.. well done. *++*++* Edmund [The Bastard] You know me, My sort, Though you may not realise, My name written on parchment sheets Signed 'W.S.' And written across your own ego In dripping scarlet letters. I am he, It, The epitome of the Machiavellian. The worst kind of traitor. Cheat, knave, liar, villain… Murderer. I made lying an art form, A spider, knowing just were to tread, To not snap the delicate web. They didn't see, Not even before I betrayed And stole his sight from its very seat. Not I, not I doing the dirty work, But those unintentional, intent lackeys. Not after I destroyed the life Of he who might have stopped me In my tracks, But for his own foolish, misplaced trust. "Now, God, stand up for bastards!" Those were my words, But not mine, Put in my mouth by One more real than I. It was nine years, Sent away to save my father's shame And for nothing. It did not change my stars Nor make me equal. And they blame me for being bitter? So would you be, too Surrounded by such idiocy. Fate hanging on the stars? Ha! That is as good an excuse as any to hate. "This is the excellent foppery of the world." But that world is no longer mine.