I thought
the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.
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 {5} weigh’d, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moi’ty.
Is not this your son, my lord?
His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge.
I have so often blush’d to acknowledge him,
that now I am braz’d to’t. {11}
I cannot conceive you.
whereupon she grew round-womb’d, and had indeed,
sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her
bed. Do you smell a fault? {16}
being so proper.
year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my {20}
account. Though this knave 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 acknowledg’d. Do you know
this noble gentleman, Edmund? {25}
as my honorable friend.
shall again. <([Sound a] sennet.)> The King is coming.
************
ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA,
************
we shall express our darker purpose.
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 {40} Unburthen’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, {45}
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), {50}
Which of you shall we say doth love us most,
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where nature doth with merit challenge? Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.
I love you
more than [words] can wield the matter, {55}
Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty,
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare,
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor;
As much as child e’er lov’d, or father found;
A love
that makes breath poor, and speech unable: {60}
Beyond all manner of so much
I love you.
With shadowy forests and with champains rich’d,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, {65}
We make thee lady. To thine and Albany’s [issue]
Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? [Speak.]
I am made of that self metal as my sister,
And
prize me at her worth.
In my true heart {70}
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 {75} In your dear Highness’ love.
And yet not so, since I am sure my love’s
More ponderous than my tongue.
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom, {80}
No less in space, validity, and pleasure,
Than that conferr’d on Goneril. – Now, our joy,
Although our 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 {85}
A third more opulent than your sisters’? Speak.
My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty
According to my bond, no more nor less.
Lest you may mar your fortunes.
You have begot me,
bred me,
lov’d me:
I Return those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you,
love you,
and most honor you.
Why have my sisters husbands,
if they say They love you all?
Happily,
when I shall wed, {100}
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].
For by the sacred radiance of the sun,
The [mysteries] of Hecat and the night; {110}
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 {115}
Hold thee 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 neighbor’d, pitied, and reliev’d,
As thou my sometime daughter.
Come not between the dragon and his wrath;
I lov’d her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery. <[To Cordelia.]> Hence, and avoid
my sight! –
So be my grave my peace, as here I give {125}
Her father’s heart from her. Call France. Who stirs?
Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany,
With my two daughters’ dow’rs digest the third;
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power, {130}
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 {135}
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.
Whom I have ever honor’d as my king, {140}
Lov’d as my father, as my master follow’d,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers –
The region of my heart; be Kent unmannerly {145}
When Lear is mad. What wouldest thou do, old man?
Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honor’s bound,
When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state,
And in thy best consideration check {150}
This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least,
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds
Reverb no hollowness.
To wage against thine enemies, ne’er [fear’d] to lose it,
Thy safety being motive.
The true blank of thine eye.
Thou swear’st thy gods in vain.
<[Starts to draw his sword.]>
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift,
Or whilst I can vent clamor from my throat, {165}
I’ll tell thee thou dost evil.
On thine allegiance, hear me!
That thou hast sought to make us break our [vow] –
Which we durst never yet – and with strain’d pride
To come betwixt our sentence and our power, {170}
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,
Our potency made good, take thy reward.
Five days we do allot thee, for provision
To shield thee from disasters of the world,
And on the sixt to turn thy hated back {175}
Upon our kingdom. If, on the tenth day following,
Thy banish’d trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter,
This shall not be revok’d.
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,
that good effects may spring from words of love. {185}
Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu,
He’ll shape his old course in a country new.
*************
BURGUNDY, ATTENDANTS.
<[Glou.]> Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
We first address toward you, who with this king {190}
Hath rivall’d for our daughter. What, in the least,
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love?
I crave no more than hath your Highness offer’d,
Nor will you tender less.
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so,
But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands:
If aught within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec’d,
And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace, {200}
She’s there, and she is yours.
Unfriended, new adopted to our hate,
Dow’r’d with our curse, and stranger’d with our oath,
Take her, or leave her?
Election makes not up in such conditions.
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 {210}
T’ avert your liking a more worthier way
Than on a wretch whom Nature is asham’d
Almost t’ acknowledge hers.
That she, whom even but now was your [best] object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age, {215}
The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favor. Sure her offense
Must be of such unnatural degree
That monsters it, or your fore-vouch’d affection {220}
Fall into taint; which to believe of her
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Should never plant in me.
If for I want that glib and oily art
To speak and purpose not, since what I [well] intend, {225}
I’ll do’t before I speak – that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulness,
No unchaste action, or dishonored step,
That hath depriv’d me of your grace and favor,
But even for want of that for which I am richer – {230}
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.
Hadst not been born than not t’ have pleas’d me better.
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 th’ entire point. Will you have her? {240}
She is herself a dowry.
Give but that portion which yourself propos’d,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Duchess of Burgundy.
That you must lose a husband.
Since that [respects of fortune] are his love,
I shall not be his wife.
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
My love should kindle to inflam’d respect. {255}
Thy dow’rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.
Not all the dukes of wat’rish Burgundy
Can buy this unpriz’d precious maid of me.
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind, {260}
Thou losest here, a better where to find.
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again. <[To Cordelia.]> Therefore be gone,
Without our grace, our love, our benison. – {265}
Come, noble Burgundy.
************
Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are,
And like a sister am most loath to call {270}
Your faults as they are named. 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. {275}
Be to content your lord, who hath receiv’d you
At fortune’s alms. You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted.
Who covers faults, at last with shame derides.
Well may you prosper!
************
most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father
will hence to-night. {285}
month with us.
observation we have made of it hath [not] been little.
He always lov’d our sister most, and with what {290}
poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too
grossly.
but slenderly known himself. {294}
but rash; then must we look from his age to receive not
alone the imperfections of long-ingraff’d condition,
but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm
and choleric years bring with them.
from him as this of Kent’s banishment. {301}
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. {306}
