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Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous
Or he that makes his generation2 messes
Lear. Peace, Kent!
Good my liege,
Come not between the dragon and his wrath:
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Call Burgundy.-Cornwall, and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers digest this third:
That troop with majesty.-Ourself, by monthly
With reservation of a 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 additions3 to a king;
Revenue, execution of the rest,4
Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
This coronet part between you. [Giving the crown
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,
Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
(1) From this time. (3) Titles.
(2) His children. (4) All other subjects.
The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,
Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak,
When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom;
This hideous rashness: answer my life my judg
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
Kent, on thy life, no more.
Out of my sight!
Kent. See better, Lear; and let me still remain
The true blank2 of thine eye.
Lear. Now, by Apollo,
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.
Now, by Apollo, king,
O, vassal! miscreant !
[Laying his hand on his sword.
Alb. Corn. Dear sir, forbear.
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.
Hear me, recreant!
Ou thine allegiance hear me !
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow (Which we durst never yet,) and, with strain'd
To come betwixt our sentence and our power
(1) Reverberates. (2) The mark to shoot at.
Our potency make good, take thy reward.
Kent. Fare thee well, king: since thus thou wilt
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.--
Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
Lear. My lord of Burgundy,
We first address towards 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?2
Most roya! 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, seeming3 substance, Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd,
(1) Follow his old mode of life.
(2) Amorous expedition. (3) Specious.
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
I know no answer.
Will you, with those infirmities she owes,'
Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our
Take her, or leave her?
Pardon me, royal sir;
Election makes not up2 on such conditions.
I tell you all her wealth.-For you, great king,
This is most strange!
That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd4 affection
Could never plant in me.
I yet beseech our majesty
(If for I want that glib and oily art,
To speak and purpose not; since what I well
I'll do't before I speak,) that you make known
(1) Owns, is possessed of. (2) Concludes not.
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
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
That I am glad I have not, though not to have it, Hath lost me in your liking.
Hadst not been born, than not to have pleas'd me
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 is not love, When it is mingled with respects, that stand Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? She is herself a dowry.
Duchess of Burgundy.
Lear. Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.
Bur. I am sorry then, you have so lost a father,
That you must lose a husband.
Peace be with Burgandy!
Since that respects of fortune are his love,
I shall not be his wife.
France. Fairest Cordelia, thou 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.—
(1) Who seeks for aught in love but love alone"