Kent. Good my Liege-- Come not between the dragon and his wrath, [To Cor. 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 digeft the third. Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. I do invest you jointly with my Power, Preheminence, and all the large effects That troop with Majesty. Our self by monthly course, With refervation of an hundred Knights, By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode Make with you by due turns: only retain The name and all th' addition to a King: * The sway, revenue, execution of th' Heft, Beloved fons, be yours; which to confirm, This Cor'onet part between 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, And as my patron thought on in my pray'rs Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. *The fway, revenue, execution, Beloved fons, be yours.) The old Books read the Lines thus. Beloved fons be yours. This is evidently corrupt, and the Editors not knowing what to make of of the rest-, left it out. The true Reading, without doubt, was, The fway, revenue, execution of th'Hest, Beloved fons, be yours. Heft, is an old Word for regal Command: fo that the Sense of the whole is,---I will only retain the Name and all the ceremonious Ob servances that belong to a King; the Effentials, as Sway, Revenue,. Adminiftration of the Laws, be yours. B. 5. Mr. Warburton.... Kent. Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade Reserve thy State; with better judgment check Lear. Kent, on thy life no more. Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn To wage against thy foes; nor fear to lose it, Thy safety being the motive. Lear. Out of my fight! 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! mifcreant! [Laying his hand on his fword. Alb. Corn. Dear Sir, forbear. Kent. Kill thy physician, and thy fee bestow Upon the foul disease; revoke thy doom, Lear. Hear me, recreant! Since thou hast fought to make us break our vow, wing Thy 2 2 Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, [appear, Kent. Fare thee well, King; sith thus thou wilt Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here; He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit. * SCENE III. Enter Glo'fter, with France and Burgundy, and Glo. H Attendants. ERE's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. We first address tow'rd you, who with this King Bur. Most royal Majesty, I crave no more than what your Highness offer'd, Lear. Right noble Burgundy, When she was dear to us, we held her fo; And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace, Bur. I know no answer. Lear. Will you with those infirmities she owes, Take her, or leave her? Bur. Pardon, royal Sir; Election makes not up on such conditions. B6 Lear. Lear. Then leave her, Sir; for by the pow'r that made me, I tell you all her wealth. -For you, great King, [To France. I would not from your love make such a stray, France. This is most strange! That she, who ev'n but now was your best object, Cor. I yet befeech your Majesty, That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour: Lear. Better thou Hadst not been born, than not have pleas'd me better. Which often leaves the history unspoke, Aloof Aloof from th' intire point.. Say, will you have her? She is herself a dowry. Bur. Royal King, Give but that portion which yourself propos'd, And here I take Cordelia by the hand, Dutchess of Burgundy. Lear. Nothing: I've sworn. Bur. I'm forry then, you have so lost a father, That you must lose a husband. Cor. Peace be with Burgundy, Since that respects of fortune are his love, France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor, Moft choice, forsaken: and most lov'd, defpis'd! Gods, Gods! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st neg lect My love should kindle to enflam'd respect. Thy dow'rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance, Lear. Thou hast her, France; let her be thine, for we [Flourish. Exeunt Lear and Burgundy. SCENE IV. ID farewel to your fisters. Cor. Ye jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes Cordelia |