King Lear

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.

Is not this your son, my lord?

- His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge.

I have so often blushed to acknowledge him,

that now I am brazed to it.

I cannot conceive you.

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?

I cannot wish the fault undone,

the issue of it being so proper.

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 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 acknowledged.

Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?

- No, my lord. - My lord of Kent.

Remember him hereafter as my honorable friend.

My services to your lordship.

I must love you,

and sue to know you better.

Sir, I shall study deserving.

- He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again.

The king is coming.

- Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

I shall, my lord.

- Meantime, 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 unburdened 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 answered.

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.

- Sir, I do love you more than words can wield the matter.

Dearer than eye-sight, 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 loved or father found.

A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable.

Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

What shall Cordelia speak?

Love and be silent.

- Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,

with shadowy forests and with with plenteous rivers,

we make thee lady to thine and Albany's children

be this perpetual.

What says our second daughter,

our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall?

Speak.

- Sir, 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.

But 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.

Then poor Cordelia!

And yet not so

since I am sure my love's more ponderous than my tongue.

To thee and thine hereditary ever

remain this ample third of our fair kingdom.

No less in space, validity and pleasure

than that conferred on Goneril.

And now, our joy, although our last and least,

to whose young love the vines of France and milk of Burgundy

strive to be interessed.

What can you say to draw a third

more opulent than your sisters?

Speak.

Nothing, my lord.

Nothing?

Nothing.

Nothing will come of nothing.

Speak again.

Unhappy that I am,

I cannot heath my heart into my mouth.

I love your majesty according to my bond.

No more nor less.

How, how, Cordelia?

Mend your speech a little,

lest it may mar your fortunes.

Good my lord.

You have begot me, bred me, loved 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?

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.

But goes thy heart with this?

Ay, good my lord.

So young, and so untender?

So young, my lord, and true.

Let it be so.

Thy truth, then, be thy dower.

For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,

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 neighbored,

pitied, and relieved as thou my sometime daughter.

Good my liege--

Peace, Kent!

Come not between the dragon and his wrath.

I loved 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 with my power.

Ourself, by monthly course,

with reservation of an hundred knights,

by you to be sustained,

shall our abode make with you by due turn.

Only we shall retain the name

and all the addition to a king.

The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,

beloved sons, be yours

which to confirm,

this coronet part betwixt you.

Royal Lear!

Whom I have ever honored as my king,

loved as my father, as my master followed,

as my great patron thought on in my prayers.

- The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.

- Let it fall rather, though the fork invade

the region of my heart.

Be Kent unmannerly when Lear is mad.

What wilt thou do, old man?

To plainness honor's bound

when majesty stoops to folly.

Reserve thy state.

And in thy best consideration,

cheque this hideous rashness.

Answer my life my judgment,

thy youngest daughter does not love thee least.

Kent, on thy life, no more.

My life I never held but as a pawn

to wage against thy enemies,

nor fear to lose it,

thy safety being the motive.

Out of my sight!

See better, Lear!

And let me still remain the true blank of thine eye.

Now, by Apollo--

Now, by Apollo, king,

thou swear'st thy gods in vain.

O, vassal!

Miscreant! - My lord, forbear.

Kill thy physician

and the fee bestow upon thy foul disease.

Revoke thy gift

or whilst I can vent clamor from my throat,

I'll tell thee thou dost evil.

Hear me, recreant!

On thine allegiance, hear me!

Five days we do allot thee

for provision to shield thee from disasters of the world,

and on the sixth to turn thy hated back upon our kingdom.

If, on the next day following,

thy banished trunk be found in our dominions,