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Gon. I love you, Sir,
Dearer than eye-fight, fpace and liberty;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour:
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable,
Cor. What fhall Cordelia do? love and be filent.
[Afide. Lear. Of all these bounds, ev'n from this line to this, With fhadowy forefts and with champions rich'd, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's iffue Be this perpetual.-What fays our fecond daughter, Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? fpeak.
Reg. I'm made of that felf-metal as my fifter,
Only the comes too fhort: that I profefs
Which the most precious fquare of fenfe poffeffes;
In your dear Highness' love.
Cor. Then poor Cordelia!
And yet not fo, fince, I am fure, my love's
Lear. To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
(1) And prize me at her worth. In my true beart.] Mr. Bishop prefcrib'd the pointing of this paffage, as I have regulated it in the text. Regan would fay, that in the truth of her heart and affection, the equals the worth of her fifter. Without this change in the pointing, fhe makes a boaft of herself without any cause affign'd.
Lear. Nothing can come of nothing; speak again. Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth: I love your Majefty According to my bond, no more nor lefs.
Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your speech a little, Left you may mar your fortunes.
Cor. Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me.
To love my father all.
Lear. But goes thy heart with this?
Lear. So young, and fo untender?
Lear. Let it be fo, thy truth then be thy dower:
The myfteries of Hecate, and the night,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barb'rous Scythian,
To gorge his appetite; fhall to my bofom
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd,
Kent. Good my Liege
Lear. Peace, Kent!
Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
On her kind nurs'ry. Hence, avoid my fight!
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
Her father's heart from her; Call France; who stirs?
With my two daughters dowers, digeft the third.
That troop with Majefty. Our felf by monthly courfe,
Beloved fons, be yours; which to confirm,
Kent. Royal Lear,
[Giving the Crown.
Whom I have ever honour'd as my King,
Lov'd as my father, as my mafter follow'd,
And as my patron thought on in my pray'rs
Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft..
When Lear is mad: what would't thou do, old man?
Referve 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 lofe it, Thy fafety being the motive.
Lear. Out of my fight!
Kent. See better, Lear, and let me ftill remain The true blank of thine eye.
Lear. Now by Apollo-
[Laying his hand on his fword.
Alb. Corn. Dear Sir, forbear.
Kent. Kill thy phyfician, and thy fee bestow
Lear. Hear me, recreant!
Since thou haft fought to make us break our vow,
Kent. Fare thee well, King; fith thus thou wilt appear,
Enter Glo'fter, with France and Burgundy, and
Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. (2)
(2) Cor. Here's France, and Burgundy, my noble lord.] The generality of the editions, ancient and modern, ftupidly place this verfe to Cordelia. But I have, upon the authority of the old 4to, reftor'd it to the right owner, Glofer; who was, but a little before, fent by the King to conduct France and Burgundy to him,
Lear. My lord of Burgundy,
We first address tow'rd you, who with this King
Bur. Moft royal Majesty,
I crave no more than what your Highness offer'd,
Lear. Right noble Burgundy,
When fhe 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 fhe owes, Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
Dowr'd with our curfe, and ftranger'd with our oath, Take her, or leave her?
Bur. Pardon, royal Sir;
Election makes not up on fuch conditions.
Lear. Then leave her, Sir; for by the pow'r that made -For you, great King,
I tell you all her wealth.
I would not from your love make such a stray,
To match you where I hate; therefore befeech you,
Than on a wretch, whom nature is afham'd
France. This is most ftrange!
That fhe, who ev'n but now was your best object,
That monfters it; (3) or your fore-voucht affection
(3) As monftrous is,] This bald reading is a modern fophiftication: the eldest and best copies read;