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87
THE
TRAGEDY
O
F
Actus
Primus.
Scena
Prima.
Kent.
I
Enter
Kent,
Gloster,
and
Edmund.
Thought
the
King
had
more
affected
the
Duke
of
Albany,
than
Cornwall.
Glo.
It
did
always
seem
to
us:
But
now
in
the
division
of
the
Kingdom,
it
appears
not
which
of
the
Dukes
he
values
most,
for
qualities
are
so
weigh’d,
that
curiosity
in
neither,
can
make
choice
of
eithers
moiety.
Kent.
Is
not
this
your
Son,
my
Lord?
Glo.
His
breeding,
Sir,
hath
been
at
my
charge.
I
have
so
often
blush’d
to
acknowledge
him,
that
now
I
am
braz'd
to’t.
Kent.
I
cannot
conceive
you.
Glo.
Sir,
this
young
Fellows
Mother
could;
where-
upon
she
grew
round
womb’d,
and
had
indeed
(Sir)
a
Son
for
her
Cradle,
e’re
she
had
a
Husband
for
her
Bed.
Do
you
smell
a
fault?
Kent.
I
cannot
wish
the
fault
undone,
the
issue
of
it
being
so
proper.
Glo.
But
I
have
a
Son,
Sir,
by
order
of
Law,
some
Year
elder
than
this;
who,
yet
is
no
dearer
in
my
ac-
count,
though
this
Knave
came
somewhat
sawcily
to
the
World
before
he
was
sent
for:
yet
was
his
Mother
fair,
there
was
good
sport
at
his
making,
and
the
whorson
must
be
acknowledged.
Do
you
know
this
Nobleman,
Edmond
?
Edm.
No,
my
Lord.
Glo.
My
Lord
of
Kent:
Remember
him
hereafter,
as
my
honourable
Friend.
Edm.
My
services
to
your
Lordship.
Kent.
I
must
love
you,
and
sue
to
know
you
better.
Edm.
Sir,
I
shall
study
deserving.
Glo.
He
hath
been
out
nine
years,
and
away
he
shall
again.
The
King
is
coming.
Sennet.
Enter
King
Lear,
Cornwall,
Albany,
Gonerill,
Regan,
Cordelia,
and
Attendants.
Lear.
Attend
the
Lords
of
France
and
Burgundy,
Gloster.
Glo.
I
shall,
my
Lord.
[Exit.
Lear.
Mean
time
we
shall
express
our
darker
purpose.
Give
me
the
Map
here.
Know,
that
we
have
divided
Into
three,
our
Kingdom:
and
’tis
our
fast
intent,
To
shake
all
cares
and
business
from
our
Age,
Conferring
them
on
younger
strengths,
while
we
Unburthen’d
crawl
toward
Death.
Our
Son
of
Cornwall,
And
you
our
no
less
loving
Son
of
Albany,
We
have
this
hour
a
constant
will
to
publish
Our
Daughter’s
several
Dowers,
that
future
strife
May
be
prevented
now.
The
Prince,
France
and
Burgundy,
Great
Rivals
in
our
younger
Daughter’s
Love,
Long
in
our
Court,
have
made
their
amorous
sojourn,
And
here
are
to
be
answer’d.
Tell
my
Daughters
(Since
now
we
will
divest
us
both
of
Rule,
lnterest
of
Terrority,
Cares
of
State)
Which
of
you
shall
we
say
doth
love
us
most,
That
we,
our
largest
bounty
may
extend
Where
nature
doth
with
merit
challenge.
Gonerill,
Our
eldest
born,
speak
first.
Gon.
Sir,
I
love
you
more
than
word
can
wield
the
matter,
Dearer
than
Eye
light,
space,and
liberty,
Beyond
what
can
be
valued,
rich
or
rare,
No
less
than
life,
with
grace,
health,
beauty,
honour:
As
much
as
Child
e’re
lov’d,
or
Father
found.
A
love
that
makes
breath
poor,
and
speech
unable,
Beyond
all
manner
of
so
much
I
love
you.
Cor.
What
shall
Cordelia
speak?
Love,
and
be
silent.
Lear.
Of
all
these
bounds,
even
from
this
Line,
to
this,
With
shadowy
Forests,
and
with
Champions
rich’d
With
plenteous
Rivers,
and
wide-skirted
Meads
We
make
thee
Lady.
To
thine
and
Albany’s
Issues
Be
this
perpetual.
What
sayes
our
second
Daughter,
Our
dearest
Regan,
Wife
of
Cornwall?
Ren.
I
am
made
of
that
self-metal
as
my
Sister,
And
prize
me
at
her
worth.
In
my
true
heart,
I
find
she
names
my
very
deed
of
love:
Only
she
comes
too
short,
that
I
profess
My
self
an
Enemy
to
all
other
joyes,
Which
the
most
precious
square
of
sense
professes,
And
find
I
am
alone
felicitate
In
your
dear
Highness
love.
Cor.
Then,
poor
Cordelia,
And
yet
not
so,
since
I
am
sure
my
love's
More
ponderous
than
my
tongue.
Lear.
To
thee,
and
thine
hereditary
ever:
Remain
this
ample
third
of
our
fair
Kingdom,
No
less
in
space,
validity,
and
pleasure
Than
that
confer’d
on
Gonerill.
Now
our
Joy,
Although
our
last
and
least;
to
whose
young
love,
The
Vines
of
France,
and
Milk
of
Burgundy,
Strive
to
be
interest.
What
can
you
say,
to
draw
A
third,
more
opulent
than
your
Sisters?
Speak.
Cor.
Nothing,
my
Lord.
Lear.
Nothing?
Cor.
Nothing.
Lear.
Nothing
will
come
of
nothing,
speak
again.
Cord.
Unhappy
that
I
am,
I
cannot
have
My
heart
into
my
mouth:
I
love
your
Majesty
According
to
my
bond,
no
more
nor
less.
Lear.
How,
how,
Cordelia?
Mend
your
speech
a
little,
H
h
h
2
Lest
KING
LEAR.