LEAR
Kent, on thy life, no more!
KENT
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thine enemies, ne’er feared to lose it,
Thy safety being 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 ⌈
making
to strike
him
⌉
O vassal! Miscreant!
ALBANY and ⌈CORDELIA⌉ Dear sir, forbear.
KENT (
to Lear
)
Kill thy physician, and thy 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!
That thou hast sought to make us break our vows,
Which we durst never yet, and with strained pride
To come betwixt 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 disasters of the world,
And on the sixth to turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom. If on the seventh day following
Thy banished trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter,
This shall not be revoked.
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 Goneril and Regan
) 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 the Duke of Gloucester with the
King of France, the Duke of Burgundy, and attendants
⌈CORDELIA⌉
Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
LEAR My lord of Burgundy,
We first address toward you, who with this King
Hath rivalled 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 offered;
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 fallen. Sir, there she stands.
If aught within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced,
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,
Dowered with our curse and strangered with our oath,
Take her or leave her?
BURGUNDY
Pardon me, royal sir.
Election makes not up in such conditions.
LEAR
Then leave her, sir; for by the power 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 ashamed
Almost t’acknowledge hers.
FRANCE
This is most strange,
That she whom even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
The best, the dear’st, 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-vouched affection
Fall into taint; which to believe of her
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Should never plant in me.
CORDELIA (
to Lear
)
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, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste action or dishonoured step
That hath deprived me of your grace and favour,
But even the 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.
LEAR
Better thou
Hadst not been born than not t’have pleased 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 (
to Lear
) Royal King,
Give but that portion which yourself proposed,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Duchess of Burgundy.
LEAR Nothing. I have sworn. I am firm.
BURGUNDY (
to Cordelia
)
I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father
That you must lose a husband.
CORDELIA
Peace be with Burgundy;
Since that respect and fortunes are his love,
I shall not be his wife.
FRANCE
Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised:
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 inflamed respect.—
Thy dowerless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.
Not all the dukes of wat’rish Burgundy
Can buy this unprized 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 all but France
and the sisters
FRANCE Bid farewell to your sisters.
CORDELIA
Ye jewels of our father, with washed eyes
Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are,
And like a sister am most loath to call
Your faults as they are named. Love 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.
REGAN Prescribe not us our duty.
GONERIL Let your study
Be to content your lord, who hath received you
At fortune’s alms. You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted.
CORDELIA
Time shall unfold what pleated cunning hides,
Who covert faults at last with shame 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 tonight.
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 been little. He always loved our sister most, and with what poor judgement 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 from his age to receive not alone the imperfections of long-engrafted 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 us sit together. If our father carry authority with such disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.
REGAN We shall further think of it. GONERIL We must do something, and i’th’ heat.
Exeunt
1.2
Enter Edmond the bastard
EDMOND
Thou, nature, art my goddess. To thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines
Lag of a brother? Why ‘bastard’? Wherefore ‘base’,
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true
As honest madam’s issue? Why brand they us
With ‘base’, with ‘baseness, bastardy—base, base’—
Who in the lusty stealth of nature take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth within a dull, stale, tirèd bed
Go to th’ creating a whole tribe of fops
Got ‘tween a sleep and wake? Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.
Our father’s love is to the bastard Edmond
As to th’ legitimate. Fine word, ‘legitimate’.
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed
And my invention thrive, Edmond the base
Shall to th’ legitimate. I grow, I prosper.
Now gods, stand up for bastards!
Enter the Duke of Gloucester. Edmond reads a letter
GLOUCESTER
Kent banished thus, and France in choler parted,
And the King gone tonight, prescribed his power,
Confined to exhibition—all this done
Upon the gad?—Edmond, how now? What news?
EDMOND So please your lordship, none.
GLOUCESTER Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?
EDMOND I know no news, my lord. GLOUCESTER What paper were you reading?
EDMOND Nothing, my lord.
GLOUCESTER No? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let’s see. Come, if it be nothing I shall not need spectacles.
EDMOND I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother that I have not all o‘er-read; and for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your o’erlooking. GLOUCESTER Give me the letter, sir.
EDMOND I shall offend either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame. GLOUCESTER Let’s see, let’s see.
EDMOND I hope for my brother’s justification he wrote this but as an assay or taste of my virtue.
He gives Gloucester a letter
GLOUCESTER (
reads
) ‘This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times, keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways not as it hath power but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever and live the beloved of your brother,
Edgar.’
Hum, conspiracy! ‘Sleep till I wake him, you should enjoy half his revenue’—my son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this, a heart and brain to breed it in? When came you to this? Who brought it?
EDMOND It was not brought me, my lord, there’s the cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.
GLOUCESTER You know the character to be your brother’s?
EDMOND If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; but in respect of that, I would fain think it were not. GLOUCESTER) It is his.
EDMOND It is his hand, my lord, but I hope his heart is not in the contents.
GLOUCESTER Has he never before sounded you in this business?
EDMOND Never, my lord; but I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age and fathers declined, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.
GLOUCESTER O villain, villain—his very opinion in the letter! Abhorred villain, unnatural, detested, brutish villain—worse than brutish! Go, sirrah, seek him. I’ll apprehend him. Abominable villain! Where is he?
EDMOND I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course; where if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your honour, and to no other pretence of danger.