KENT
I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.
GLOUCESTER
It did always seem so to us; but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the Dukes he values most, for qualities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moiety.
KENT
Is not this your son, my lord?
GLOUCESTER
His breeding, sir, been at my charge: I have so often blush’d to acknowledge him that now I am braz’d to’t.
KENT
I cannot conceive you.
GLOUCESTER
Sir, this young fellow’s mother could; whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?
KENT
I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.
GLOUCESTER
But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account: though this came something saucily to the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair; there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?
EDMUND
No, my lord.
GLOUCESTER
My Lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my honourable friend.
EDMUND
My services to your lordship.
KENT
I must love you, and sue to know you better.
EDMUND
Sir, I shall study deserving.
GLOUCESTER
He been out nine years, and away he shall again. The King is coming.
LEAR
Attend the lords of France and Burgundy,
Gloucester.
GLOUCESTER
I shall, my lord.
LEAR
Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.
Give me the map there. Know that we have divided
In three our kingdom: and our fast intent
To shake all cares and business from our age;
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburden’d crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters’ several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy,
Great rivals in our youngest daughter’s love,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answer’d. Tell me, my daughters,—
Since now we will divest us both of rule,
Interest of territory, cares of state,—
Which of you shall we say love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where nature with merit challenge.—Goneril,
Our eldest born, speak first.
GONERIL
Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter;
Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;
Beyond what can be valu’d, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;
As much as child e’er lov’d, or father found;
A love that makes breath poor and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.
CORDELIA
What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent.
LEAR
Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and with champains rich’d,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
We make lady: to and Albany’s issue
Be this perpetual.—What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? Speak.
REGAN
Sir, I am made of the self mettle as my sister,
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short, that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys
Which the most precious square of sense possesses,
And find I am alone felicitate
In your dear highness’ love.
CORDELIA
Then poor Cordelia,
And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love’s
More ponderous than my tongue.
LEAR
To and hereditary ever
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
No less in space, validity, and pleasure
Than that conferr’d on Goneril.—Now, our joy,
Although the last and least; to whose young love
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
Strive to be interess’d; what can you say to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
CORDELIA
Nothing, my lord.
LEAR
Nothing?
CORDELIA
Nothing.
LEAR
Nothing will come of nothing: speak again.
CORDELIA
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
According to my bond; no more nor less.
LEAR
How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little,
Lest you may mar your fortunes.
CORDELIA
Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lov’d me: I
Return those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands if they say
They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care and duty:
Sure I shall never marry like my sisters,
To love my father all.
LEAR
But goes heart with this?
CORDELIA
Ay, my good lord.
LEAR
So young, and so untender?
CORDELIA
So young, my lord, and true.
LEAR
Let it be so, truth then be dower:
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
The mysteries of Hecate and the night;
By all the operation of the orbs,
From whom we do exist and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian,
Or he that makes his generation messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
Be as well neighbour’d, pitied, and reliev’d,
As my sometime daughter.
KENT
Good my liege,—
LEAR
Peace, Kent!
Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
I lov’d her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery. and avoid my sight!
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Her father’s heart from her! Call France. Who stirs?
Call Burgundy! Cornwall and Albany,
With my two daughters’ dowers digest this third:
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects
That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,
With reservation of an hundred knights,
By you to be sustain’d, shall our abode
Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain
The name, and all the addition to a king; the sway,
Revenue, execution of the rest,
Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,
This coronet part between you.
KENT
Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honour’d as my king,
Lov’d as my father, as my master follow’d,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers.—
LEAR
The bow is bent and drawn; make from the shaft.
KENT
Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly
When Lear is mad. What do, old man?
Think’st that duty shall have dread to speak,
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour’s bound
When majesty falls to folly. Reverse state;
And in best consideration check
This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgement,
youngest daughter does not love least;
Nor are those empty-hearted, whose low sounds
Reverb no hollowness.
LEAR
Kent, on life, no more.
KENT
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against enemies; fear to lose it,
safety being the motive.
LEAR
Out of my sight!
KENT
See better, Lear; and let me still remain
The true blank of eye.
LEAR
Now, by Apollo,—
KENT
Now by Apollo, King,
swear’st gods in vain.
LEAR
O vassal! Miscreant!
LEAR
ALBANY and CORNWALL.
Dear sir, forbear!
KENT
Kill physician, and the fee bestow
Upon the foul disease. Revoke gift,
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
I’ll tell evil.
LEAR
Hear me, recreant! on allegiance, hear me!
Since sought to make us break our vows,
Which we durst never yet, and with strain’d pride
To come betwixt our sentences and our power,
Which nor our nature, nor our place can bear,
Our potency made good, take reward.
Five days we do allot for provision,
To shield from disasters of the world;
And on the sixth to turn hated back
Upon our kingdom: if, on the next day following,
banish’d trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is death. Away! By Jupiter,
This shall not be revok’d.
KENT
Fare well, King: sith thus wilt appear,
Freedom lives , and banishment is here.
The gods to their dear shelter take , maid,
That justly think’st and most rightly said!
And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
That good effects may spring from words of love.
Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
He’ll shape his old course in a country new.
CORDELIA
Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
LEAR
My Lord of Burgundy,
We first address toward you, who with this king
rivall’d for our daughter: what in the least
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love?
BURGUNDY
Most royal majesty,
I crave no more than your highness offer’d,
Nor will you tender less.
LEAR
Right noble Burgundy,
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;
But now her price is fall’n. Sir, there she stands:
If within that little-seeming substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec’d,
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
She’s there, and she is yours.
BURGUNDY
I know no answer.
LEAR
Will you, with those infirmities she owes,
Unfriended, new adopted to our hate,
Dower’d with our curse, and stranger’d with our oath,
Take her or leave her?
BURGUNDY
Pardon me, royal sir;
Election makes not up in such conditions.
LEAR
Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,
I tell you all her wealth. For you, great king,
I would not from your love make such a stray
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
T’avert your liking a more worthier way
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham’d
Almost t’acknowledge hers.
FRANCE
This is most strange,
That she, who even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favour. Sure her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree
That monsters it, or your fore-vouch’d affection
Fall into taint; which to believe of her
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Should never plant in me.
CORDELIA
I yet beseech your majesty,
If for I want that glib and oily art
To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,
I’ll do’t before I speak,—that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste action or dishonour’d step,
That depriv’d me of your grace and favour;
But even for want of that for which I am richer,
A still soliciting eye, and such a tongue
As I am glad I have not, though not to have it
lost me in your liking.
LEAR
Better hadst
Not been born than not to have pleas’d me better.
FRANCE
Is it but this?—a tardiness in nature
Which often leaves the history unspoke
That it intends to do? My lord of Burgundy,
What say you to the lady? Love’s not love
When it is mingled with regards that stands
Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?
She is herself a dowry.
BURGUNDY
Royal King,
Give but that portion which yourself propos’d,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Duchess of Burgundy.
LEAR
Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.
BURGUNDY
I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father
That you must lose a husband.
CORDELIA
Peace be with Burgundy!
Since that respects of fortunes are his love,
I shall not be his wife.
FRANCE
Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
Most choice forsaken; and most lov’d, despis’d!
and virtues here I seize upon:
Be it lawful, I take up what’s cast away.
Gods, gods! strange that from their cold’st neglect
My love should kindle to inflam’d respect.
dowerless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy
Can buy this unpriz’d precious maid of me.
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
losest here, a better where to find.
LEAR
her, France: let her be ; for we
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again. Therefore be gone
Without our grace, our love, our benison.
Come, noble Burgundy.
FRANCE
Bid farewell to your sisters.
CORDELIA
The jewels of our father, with wash’d eyes
Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are;
And like a sister am most loath to call
Your faults as they are nam’d. Love well our father:
To your professed bosoms I commit him:
But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,
I would prefer him to a better place.
So farewell to you both.
REGAN
Prescribe not us our duties.
GONERIL
Let your study
Be to content your lord, who receiv’d you
At fortune’s alms. You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted.
CORDELIA
Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides:
Who covers faults, at last shame derides.
Well may you prosper.
FRANCE
Come, my fair Cordelia.
GONERIL
Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will tonight.
REGAN
That’s most certain, and with you; next month with us.
GONERIL
You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it not been little: he always loved our sister most; and with what poor judgement he now cast her off appears too grossly.
REGAN
the infirmity of his age: yet he ever but slenderly known himself.
GONERIL
The best and soundest of his time been but rash; then must we look from his age to receive not alone the imperfections of long-engrafted condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them.
REGAN
Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent’s banishment.
GONERIL
There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you let us hit together: if our father carry authority with such disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.
REGAN
We shall further think of it.
GONERIL
We must do something, and i’ th’ heat.