King Lear

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! miscreant!

[Laying his hand on his sword.]

Alb. and Corn.
Dear sir, forbear!

Kent.
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.
Hear me, recreant!
On thine allegiance, hear me!--
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 diseases 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.

[Exit.]

[Flourish. Re-enter Gloster, with France, Burgundy, and
Attendants.]

Glou.
Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

Lear.
My Lord of Burgundy,
We first address toward 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?

Bur.
Most royal 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 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.

Bur.
I know no answer.

Lear.
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?

Bur.
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