Let it be so; thy truth then be thy dower:
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
The mysteries of Hecat, and the night;
By all the operation of the orbs

From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
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 neighbour'd, pitied and reliev'd,
As thou my sometime daughter.

KENT.

LEAR.

Peace, Kent!

Good my liege,

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!

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 the third:

Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with 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 turn.

Only we still 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 between you.

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. Reserve 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.

Kent, on thy life, no more.

My life I never held but as a pawn

To wage against thy enemies; ne'er fear to lose it,

Thy safety being the motive.

LEAR

X

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.

On thy allegiance, hear me!

Hear me, recreant!

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 disasters 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.

(Flourish. Re-enter Gloucester, with France,
Burgundy, & Attendants.)

GLOUCESTER.

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?

BURGUNDY.

Most royal majesty,

I crave no more than what your highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender less.

LEAR.

Right noble Burgundy,

(Exit.)

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.

BURGUNDY.

LEAR.

I know no answer.

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?

BURGUNDY.

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.) For you, great king,
I would not from your love make such a stray,

To match you where I hate; therefore, beseech you
To avert your liking a more worthier way,
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd
Almost to acknowledge hers.

FRANCE.

This is most strange,

That she, who even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest, 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-vouch'd affection
Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her,

Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Could never plant in me.

CORDELIA.

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, nor other foulness,

No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,

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

As 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 pleas'd 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 stand
Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?
She is herself a dowry.

BURGUNDY.

Royal Lear,

Give but that portion which yourself propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Duchess of Burgundy.

LEAR.

Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.
BURGUNDY.

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 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.→

Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy
Can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
Thou losest here, a better-where to find.