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Beyond all manner of so much I love
you. Cor. What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be silent.
[aside. Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line
to this, With shadowy forests and with champains 1 rich’d, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, We make thee lady: to thine and Albany's issue Be this perpetual.- What says our second daughter, Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall ? Speak.
Re. I am ade 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 Myself an enemy to all other joys, Which the most precious square ? of sense possesses ; And find, I am alone felicitate In your dear highness' love. Cor.
Then poor Cordelia ! [aside.
Lear. To thee and thine, hereditary ever,
love The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy
1 Open plains.
Strive to be interess’d; 1—what can you say, to
Cor. Nothing, my lord.
little, Lest it may mar your
Good my lord,
and most honor you. Why have
sisters husbands, if they say, They love you, all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall
carry Half my love with him, half my care, and duty. Sure, I shall never marry
my sisters, To love my father all.
Lear. But goes this with thy heart ?
Ay, good my lord Lear. So young, and so untender?
Cor. So young, my lord, and true.
Lear. Let it be so: thy truth then be thy dower :
Good my liege, -
[to Cordelia. So be my grave my peace, as here I give Her father's heart from her !—Call France !-Who
1 His children.
Pre-eminence, and all the large effects
Revenue, execution of the rest,
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
Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak, When power to flattery bows ? To plainness honor 's
bound, When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom ; And, in thy best consideration, check This hideous rashness: answer my life my judg
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
Kent, on thy life, no more.
Out of my sight! Kent. See better, Lear; and let me still remain The true blank? of thine eye.
Lear. Now, by Apollo,
Now, by Apollo, king,
O, vassal! miscreant !
[laying his hand on his sword. Alb. Corn. Dear sir, forbear.
Hear me, recreant !
pride, To come betwixt our sentence and our power ;
! For reverberates.
2 The blank is the white or exact mark at which the arrow is shot.