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King Lear
act i   Scene I.
William Shakespeare
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       [King Lear's Palace.]
       Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund. [Kent and Glouceste converse. Edmund stands back.]
       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
       equalities are so weigh'd that curiosity in neither can make
       choice of either's moiety.
       KENT
       Is not this your son, my lord?
       GLOUCESTER
       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.
       KENT
       I cannot conceive you.
       GLOUCESTER
       Sir, this young fellow's mother could; 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?
       KENT
       I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so
       proper.
       GLOUCESTER
       But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year elder than
       this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came
       something 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?
       EDMUND
       [comes forward] 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 hath been out nine years, and away he shall again.
       Sound a sennet.
       The King is coming.
       Enter one bearing a coronet; then Lear; then the Dukes of
       Albany and Cornwall; next, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, with Followers.

       LEAR
       Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.
       GLOUCESTER
       I shall, my liege.
       Exeunt [Gloucester and Edmund].
       LEAR
       Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.
       Give me the map there. Know 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
       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,
       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 doth love us most?
       That we our largest bounty may extend
       Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril,
       Our eldest-born, speak first.
       GONERIL
       Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter;
       Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;
       Beyond what can be valued, 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
       [aside] 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 thee lady. To thine and Albany's issue
       Be this perpetual.- What says our second daughter,
       Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.
       REGAN
       Sir, I am made
       Of the selfsame metal that my sister is,
       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
       [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
       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, not least; to whose young love
       The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
       Strive to be interest; what can you say to draw
       A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
       CORDELIA
       Nothing, my lord.
       LEAR
       Nothing?
       CORDELIA
       Nothing.
       LEAR
       Nothing can 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 it 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 thy heart with this?
       CORDELIA
       Ay, good my lord.
       LEAR
       So young, and so untender?
       CORDELIA
       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,
       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 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 neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd,
       As thou 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.- Hence 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 in my power,
       Preeminence, 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 turns. Only we still retain
       The name, and all th' additions to a king. The sway,
       Revenue, execution of the rest,
       Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,
       This coronet part betwixt 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 wouldst thou do, old man?
       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. Reverse thy doom;
       And in thy best consideration check
       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.
       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.
       LEAR
       Out of my sight!
       KENT
       See better, Lear, and let me still remain
       The true blank of thine eye.
       LEAR
       Now by Apollo-
       KENT
       Now by Apollo, King,
       Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.
       LEAR
       O vassal! miscreant!
       [Lays his hand on his sword.]
       ALBANY, CORNWALL.
       Dear sir, forbear!
       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,
       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-
       Which we durst never yet- and with strain'd pride
       To come between our sentence and our power,-
       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 diseases of the world,
       And on the sixth to turn thy hated back
       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.
       KENT
       Fare thee well, King. Since thus thou wilt appear,
       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.
       Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
       He'll shape his old course in a country new.
       Exit.
       Flourish. Enter Gloucester, with France and Burgundy; Attendants.
       GLOUCESTER
       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
       Will you require in present dower with her,
       Or cease your quest of love?
       BURGUNDY
       Most royal Majesty,
       I crave no more than hath 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 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.
       BURGUNDY
       I know no answer.
       LEAR
       Will you, with those infirmities she owes,
       Unfriended, new adopted to our hate,
       Dow'r'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
       Take her, or leave her?
       BURGUNDY
       Pardon me, royal sir.
       Election makes not up on such conditions.
       LEAR
       Then leave her, sir; for, by the pow'r that made me,
       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
       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 that even but now was your best object,
       The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
       Most best, most 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'n 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, murther, or foulness,
       No unchaste action or dishonoured step,
       That hath 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
       Hath lost me in your liking.
       LEAR
       Better thou
       Hadst not been born than not t' 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 th' entire point. Will you have her?
       She is herself a dowry.
       BURGUNDY
       Royal Lear,
       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 fortune 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!
       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.
       Thy dow'rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,
       Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.
       Not all the dukes in wat'rish Burgundy
       Can 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
       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].
       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. 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!
       So farewell to you both.
       GONERIL
       Prescribe not us our duties.
       REGAN
       Let your study
       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.
       CORDELIA
       Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides.
       Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
       Well may you prosper!
       FRANCE
       Come, my fair Cordelia.
       Exeunt France and Cordelia.
       GONERIL
       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.
       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 hath not been little. He always lov'd our
       sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her
       off appears too grossly.
       REGAN
       'Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but slenderly
       known himself.
       GONERIL
       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-ingraffed 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's hit together. If our father carry authority
       with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his
       will but offend us.
       REGAN
       We shall further think on't.
       GONERIL
       We must do something, and i' th' heat.
       Exeunt.
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Dramatis Personae
act i
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.
   Scene IV.
   Scene V.
act ii
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.
   Scene IV.
act iii
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.
   Scene IV.
   Scene V.
   Scene VI.
   Scene VII.
act iv
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.
   Scene IV.
   Scene V.
   Scene VI.
   Scene VII.
act v
   Scene I.
   Scene II.
   Scene III.