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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!—[To Cordelia.]

       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,

       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 turns. Only we still retain

       The name, and all the additions to a king;

       The sway,

       Revenue, execution of the rest,

       Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,

       This coronet part betwixt you.

       [Giving the crown.]

       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 state;

       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!

       [Laying his hand on his sword.]

       Alb. and Corn.

       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: 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.—

       Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;

       He’ll shape his old course in a country new.

       [Exit.]

       [Flourish. Re-enter Gloster, with France, Burgundy, and

       Attendants.]

       Glou.

       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?

       Bur.

       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.

       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,

       Take her, or leave her?

      

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