"Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
my services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plagues of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? Wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brind they us
With base? With baseness? Bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops
Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well then
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund.
As to the legitimate: fine word, - legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper, -
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!"

Edmund, "bastard son to Gloucester"
King Lear, Act I, scene ii, lines 10-22.

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