Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, Interest of territory, cares of state, Which of you shall we say doth love us most? Gon. Sir, -- Goneril, I love you more than words can wield the matter; Beyond what can be valu'd, rich or rare; No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable; 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, 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. Reg. Sir, I'm made of that self metal as my sister, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart Only she comes too short, that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys, Which the most precious square of sense possesses; In your dear highness' love. Cor. [aside] Lear. To thee and thine hereditary ever No less in space, validity, and pleasure, Lear. Nothing! Cor. Nothing. Lear. Nothing will come of nothing: speak again. Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 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 it may mar your fortunes. Cor. Good my lord, lov'd me: I You have begot me, bred me, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry To love my father all. Lear. But goes thy heart with this? Lear. So young, and so untender? Cor. So young, my lord, and true. Ay, good my lord. 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; The barbarous Scythian, Hold thee, from this, for ever. Or he that makes his generation messes Kent. Lear. Peace, Kent! Good my liege, — Come not between the dragon and his wrath. 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. That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course, By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain The name, The sway, and all th' additions to a king; Revenue, execution of the rest, Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm, Kent. [Giving the crown. 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? · When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound, And, in thy best consideration, check This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment, Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more. Lear. Out of my sight! Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. Now, by Apollo, king, Alb. Corn. Dear sir, forbear. O, vassal! miscreant! [Laying his hand on his sword. Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift; Lear. Hear me, recreant! On thine allegiance, hear me! -- Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following, Kent. Fare thee well, king: sith 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. He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit. Flourish. Re-enter GLOSTER, with FRANCE, BURGUNDY, and Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. We first address towards you, who with this king Or cease your quest of love? Bur. Most royal majesty, I crave no more than hath your highness offer'd, Nor will you tender less. Lear. And nothing more, may fitly like your grace, Bur. I know no answer. Lear. Will you, with those infirmities she owes, Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath, Bur. Pardon me, royal sir; Election makes not up on such conditions. Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me, I tell you all her wealth. [To France] Fory r you, great king, |