A Room of State in KING LEAR’S Palace. | |
| |
Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND. | |
| Kent. I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall. | |
| Glo. 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 equalities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moiety. | 4 |
| Kent. Is not this your son, my lord? | |
| Glo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it. | |
| Kent. I cannot conceive you. | |
| Glo. Sir, this young fellow’s mother could; whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? | 8 |
| Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper. | |
| Glo. 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 knave came somewhat saucily into 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? | |
| Edm. No, my lord. | |
| Glo. My Lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my honourable friend. | 12 |
| Edm. My services to your lordship. | |
| Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better. | |
| Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. | |
| Glo. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. The king is coming. | 16 |
| |
Sennet. Enter LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants. | |
| Lear. Attend the Lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. | |
| Glo. I shall, my liege. [Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND. | |
| Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. | 20 |
| Give me the map there. Know that we have divided | |
| In three our kingdom; and ’tis our fast intent | |
| To shake all cares and business from our age, | |
| Conferring them on younger strengths, while we | 24 |
| Unburden’d crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall, | |
| And you, our no less loving son of Albay, | |
| We have this hour a constant will to publish | |
| Our daughtes’ several dowers, that future strife | 28 |
| 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,— | 32 |
| Since now we will divest us both of rule, | |
| Interest of territory, cares of state,— | |
| Which of you shall we say doth love us most? | |
| That we our largest bounty may extend | 36 |
| Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril, | |
| Our eldest-born, speak first. | |
| Gon. Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; | |
| Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty; | 40 |
| 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; | 44 |
| Beyond all manner of so much I love you. | |
| Cor. [Aside.] What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be silent. | |
| Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, | |
| With shadowy forests and with champains rich’d, | 48 |
| With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, | |
| We make thee lady: to thine and Albany’s issue | |
| Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter, | |
| Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak. | 52 |
| Reg. I am made of that self metal 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 | 56 |
| 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. | 60 |
| Cor. [Aside.] Then, poor Cordelia! | |
| And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love’s | |
| More richer than my tongue. | |
| Lear. To thee and thine, hereditary ever, | 64 |
| 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 our last, not least; to whose young love | 68 |
| 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. | |
| Cor. Nothing, my lord. | 72 |
| Lear. Nothing? | |
| Cor. Nothing. | |
| Lear. Nothing will come of nothing: speak again. | |
| Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave | 76 |
| My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty | |
| According to my bond; nor more nor less. | |
| Lear. How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little, | |
| Lest you may mar your fortunes. | 80 |
| Cor. 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. | 84 |
| 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: | 88 |
| Sure I shall never marry like my sisters, | |
| To love my father all. | |
| Lear. But goes thy heart with this? | |
| Cor. Ay, good my lord. | 92 |
| Lear. So young, and so untender? | |
| Cor. So young, my lord, and true. | |
| Lear. Let it be so; thy truth then be thy dower: | |
| For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, | 96 |
| 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, | 100 |
| Propinquity and property of blood, | |
| And as a stranger to my heart and me | |
| Hold thee from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian, | |
| Or he that makes his generation messes | 104 |
| To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom | |
| Be as well neighbour’d, pitied, and reliev’d, | |
| As thou my sometime daughter. | |
| Kent. Good my liege,— | 108 |
| 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. Hence, and avoid my sight! | 112 |
| 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, | 116 |
| With my two daughters’ dowers digest the third; | |
| Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. | |
| I do invest you jointly with my power, | |
| Pre-eminence, and all the large effects | 120 |
| That troop with majesty. Ourself by monthly course, | |
| With reservation of a hundred knights, | |
| By you to be sustain’d, shall our abode | |
| Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain | 124 |
| The name and all th’ addition to a king; | |
| The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, | |
| Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm, | |
| This coronet part between you. | 128 |
| 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,— | 132 |
| 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 wouldst thou do, old man? | 136 |
| Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak | |
| When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour’s bound | |
| When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state; | |
| And, in thy best consideration, check | 140 |
| This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment, | |
| Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least; | |
| Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound | |
| Reverbs no hollowness. | 144 |
| Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more. | |
| Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn | |
| To wage against thine enemies; nor fear to lose it, | |
| Thy safety being the motive. | 148 |
| Lear. Out of my sight! | |
| Kent. See better, Lear; and let me still remain | |
| The true blank of thine eye. | |
| Lear. Now, by Apollo,— | 152 |
| Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, | |
| Thou swear’st thy gods in vain. | |
| Lear. O vassal! miscreant! [Laying his hand on his sword. | |
| Alb. & Corn. Dear sir, forbear. | 156 |
| Kent. Do; | |
| Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow | |
| Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift; | |
| Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, | 160 |
| I’ll tell thee thou dost evil. | |
| Lear. Hear me, recreant! | |
| On thine allegiance, hear me! | |
| Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,— | 164 |
| Which we durst never yet,—and, with strain’d pride | |
| To come betwixt our sentence and our power,— | |
| Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,— | |
| Our potency made good, take thy reward. | 168 |
| Five days we do allot thee for provision | |
| To shield thee from diseases of the world; | |
| And, on the sixth, to turn thy hated back | |
| Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following | 172 |
| Thy banish’d trunk be found in our dominions, | |
| The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter, | |
| This shall not be revok’d. | |
| Kent. Fare thee well, king; sith thus thou wilt appear, | 176 |
| Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. | |
| [To CORDELIA.] The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, | |
| That justly think’st, and hast most rightly said! | |
| [To REGAN and GONERIL.] And your large speeches may your deeds approve, | 180 |
| 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. [Exit. | |
| |
Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with FRANCE, BURGUNDY, and Attendants. | 184 |
| Glo. Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord. | |
| Lear. My Lord of Burgundy, | |
| We first address toward you, who with this king | |
| Hath rivall’d for our daughter. What, in the least, | 188 |
| Will you require in present dower with her, | |
| Or cease your quest of love? | |
| Bur. Most royal majesty, | |
| I crave no more than hath your highness offer’d, | 192 |
| 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: | 196 |
| If aught 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. | 200 |
| Bur. 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, | 204 |
| Take her, or leave her? | |
| Bur. Pardon me, royal sir; | |
| Election makes not up on such conditions. | |
| Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me, | 208 |
| I tell you all her wealth.—[To FRANCE.] For you, great king, | |
| I would not from your love make such a stray | |
| To match you where I hate; therefore, beseech you | |
| To avert your liking a more worthier way | 212 |
| Than on a wretch whom nature is asham’d | |
| Almost to acknowledge hers. | |
| France. This is most strange, | |
| That she, who even but now was your best object, | 216 |
| 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 | 220 |
| 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 | 224 |
| Could never plant in me. | |
| Cor. I yet beseech your majesty— | |
| If for I want that glib and oily art | |
| To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend, | 228 |
| I’ll do ’t before I speak—that you make known | |
| It is no vicious blot nor other foulness, | |
| No unchaste action, or dishonour’d step, | |
| That hath depriv’d me of your grace and favour, | 232 |
| But even for want of that for which I am richer, | |
| A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue | |
| That I am glad I have not, though not to have it | |
| Hath lost me in your liking. | 236 |
| Lear. Better thou | |
| 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 | 240 |
| That it intends to do? My Lord of Burgundy, | |
| What say you to the lady? Love is not love | |
| When it is mingled with regards that stand | |
| Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? | 244 |
| She is herself a dowry. | |
| Bur. Royal Lear, | |
| Give but that portion which yourself propos’d, | |
| And here I take Cordelia by the hand, | 248 |
| Duchess of Burgundy. | |
| Lear. Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm. | |
| Bur. I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father | |
| That you must lose a husband. | 252 |
| Cor. Peace be with Burgundy! | |
| Since that respects of fortune are his love, | |
| I shall not be his wife. | |
| France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor; | 256 |
| Most choice, forsaken; and most lov’d, despis’d! | |
| Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon: | |
| Be it lawful I take up what’s cast away. | |
| Gods, gods! ’tis strange that from their cold’st neglect | 260 |
| My love should kindle to inflam’d respect. | |
| Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, | |
| Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France: | |
| Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy | 264 |
| Shall buy this unpriz’d precious maid of me. | |
| Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind: | |
| Thou losest here, a better where to find. | |
| Lear. Thou hast her, France; let her be thine, for we | 268 |
| 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. [Flourish. Exeunt LEAR, BURGUNDY, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GLOUCESTER, and Attendants. | 272 |
| France. Bid farewell to your sisters. | |
| Cor. 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 | 276 |
| Your faults as they are nam’d. Use 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. | 280 |
| So farewell to you both. | |
| Reg. Prescribe not us our duties. | |
| Gon. Let your study | |
| Be to content your lord, who hath receiv’d you | 284 |
| At fortune’s alms; you have obedience scanted, | |
| And well are worth the want that you have wanted. | |
| Cor. Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides; | |
| Who covers faults, at last shame them derides. | 288 |
| Well may you prosper! | |
| France. Come, my fair Cordelia. [Exit FRANCE and CORDELIA. | |
| Gon. Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night. | |
| Reg. That’s most certain, and with you; next month with us. | 292 |
| Gon. You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been little: he always loved our sister most; and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly. | |
| Reg. ’Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself. | |
| Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then, must we look to receive from his age, not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed condition, but, therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them. | |
| Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent’s banishment. | 296 |
| Gon. There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you, let us hit together: if our father carry authority with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us. | |
| Reg. We shall further think on’t. | |
| Gon. We must do something, and i’ the heat. [Exeunt. | |
