The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  The reasons for these variations, and their effect on the play, are to some extent matters of speculation and of individual interpretation. Certainly they streamline the play’s action, removing some reflective passages, particularly at the ends of scenes. They affect the characterization of, especially, Edgar, Albany, and Kent, and there are significant differences in the play’s closing passages. Structurally the principal differences lie in the presentation of the military actions in the later part of the play; in the Folio-based text Cordelia is more clearly in charge of the forces that come to Lear’s assistance, and they are less clearly a French invasion force. The absence from this text of passages that appeared in the 1608 text implies no criticism of them in themselves. The play’s revision may have been dictated in whole or in part by theatrical exigencies, or it may have emerged from Shakespeare’s own dissatisfaction with what he had first written. Each version has its own integrity, which is distorted by the practice, traditional since the early eighteenth century, of conflation.

  THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

  LEAR, King of Britain

  GONERIL, Lear’s eldest daughter

  Duke of ALBANY, her husband

  REGAN, Lear’s second daughter

  Duke of CORNWALL, her husband

  CORDELIA, Lear’s youngest daughter

  Earl of KENT, later disguised as Caius

  Earl of GLOUCESTER

  EDGAR, elder son of Gloucester, later disguised as Tom o’ Bedlam

  EDMOND, bastard son of Gloucester

  OLD MAN, Gloucester’s tenant

  CURAN, Gloucester’s retainer

  Lear’s FOOL

  OSWALD, Goneril’s steward

  A SERVANT of Cornwall

  A KNIGHT

  A HERALD

  A CAPTAIN

  Gentlemen, servants, soldiers, attendants, messengers

  The Tragedy of King Lear

  1.1 Enter the Earl of Kent, the Duke of Gloucester, and Edmond

  KENT I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.

  GLOUCESTER) It did always seem so to us, but now in the division of the kingdom it appears not which of the Dukes he values most; for qualities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moiety.

  KENT Is not this your son, my lord?

  GLOUCESTER His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him that now I am brazed to’t.

  KENT I cannot conceive you.

  GLOUCESTER Sir, this young fellow’s mother could, whereupon she grew round-wombed and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere 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.

  GLOUCESTER But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year older than this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came something saucily to the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged. (To Edmond) Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmond?

  EDMOND No, my lord.

  GLOUCESTER (to Edmond) My lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honourable friend.

  EDMOND (to Kent) My services to your lordship.

  KENT I must love you, and sue to know you better.

  EDMOND Sir, I shall study deserving.

  GLOUCESTER (to Kent) He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again.

  Sennet

  The King is coming.

  Enter King Lear, the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, and attendants

  LEAR

  Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

  GLOUCESTER I shall, my lord. Exit

  LEAR

  Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.

  Give me the map there. Know that we have divided

  In three our kingdom, and ’tis our fast intent

  To shake all cares and business from our age,

  Conferring them on younger strengths while we

  Unburdened 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 daughters’ several dowers, that future strife

  May be prevented now. The princes France and

  Burgundy—

  Great rivals in our youngest daughter’s love—

  Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,

  And here are to be answered. Tell me, my daughters—

  Since now we will divest us both of rule,

  Interest of territory, 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? Goneril,

  Our eldest born, speak first.

  GONERIL

  Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter;

  Dearer than eyesight, 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’er loved or father found;

  A love that makes breath poor and speech unable.

  Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

  CORDELIA (aside)

  What shall Cordelia speak? Love and be silent.

  LEAR (to Goneril)

  Of all these bounds even from this line to this,

  With shadowy forests and with champaigns riched,

  With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,

  We make thee lady. To thine and Albany’s issues

  Be this perpetual.—What says our second daughter?

  Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall?

  REGAN

  I am made of that self mettle 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.

  CORDELIA (aside) Then poor Cordelia—

  And yet not so, since I am sure my love’s

  More ponderous than my tongue.

  LEAR (to Regan)

  To thee and thine hereditary ever

  Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom,

  No less in space, validity, and pleasure

  Than that conferred on Goneril. (To Cordelia) Now our

  joy,

  Although our last and least, to whose young love

  The vines of France and milk of Burgundy

  Strive to be interessed: what can you say to draw

  A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.

  CORDELIA Nothing, my lord.

  LEAR Nothing?

  CORDELIA Nothing.

  LEAR

  Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again.

  CORDELIA

  Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave

  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

  Lest you may mar your fortunes.

  CORDELIA

  Good my lord,

  You have begot me, bred me, loved me.

  I return those duties back as are right fit-

  Obey you, love you, and most honour you.

  Why have my 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 like my sisters.

  LEAR But goes thy heart with this?

  CORDELIA Ay, my good lord.

  LEAR So you
ng and so untender?

  CORDELIA So young, my lord, and true.

  LEAR

  Let it be so. Thy truth then be thy dower;

  For by the sacred radiance of the sun,

  The mysteries of Hecate and the night,

  By all the operation of the orbs

  From whom we do exist and cease to be,

  Here I disclaim all my paternal care,

  Propinquity, and property of blood,

  And as a stranger to my heart and me

  Hold thee from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian,

  Or he that makes his generation messes

  To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom

  Be as well neighboured, pitied, and relieved

  As thou, my sometime daughter.

  KENT

  Good my liege—

  LEAR Peace, Kent.

  Come not between the dragon and his wrath.

  I loved her most, and thought to set my rest

  On her kind nursery. ⌈To Cordelia⌉ Hence, and avoid

  my sight!—

  So be my grave my peace as here I give

  Her father’s heart from her. Call France. Who stirs?

  Call Burgundy.

  ⌈Exit one or more⌉

  Cornwall and Albany,

  With my two daughters’ dowers digest the third.

  Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.

  I do invest you jointly with my power,

  Pre-eminence, and all the large effects

  That troop with majesty. Ourself by monthly course,

  With reservation of an hundred knights

  By you to be sustained, shall our abode

  Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain

  The name and all th’addition to a king. The sway,

  Revenue, execution of the rest,

  Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,

  This crownet part between you.

  KENT

  Royal Lear,

  Whom I have ever honoured as my king,

  Loved as my father, as my master followed,

  As my great patron thought on in my prayers—

  LEAR

  The bow is bent and drawn; make from 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 man?

  Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak

  When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour’s

  bound

  When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state,

  And in thy best consideration check

  This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgement,

  Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least,

  Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds

  Reverb no hollowness.

  LEAR

  Kent, on thy life, no more!

  KENT

  My life I never held but as a pawn

  To wage against thine enemies, ne’er feared to lose it,

  Thy safety being motive.

  LEAR

  Out of my sight!

  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 ⌈making to strike him⌉

  O vassal! Miscreant!

  ALBANY and ⌈CORDELIA⌉ Dear sir, forbear.

  KENT (to Lear)

  Kill thy physician, and thy 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!

  That thou hast sought to make us break our vows,

  Which we durst never yet, and with strained pride

  To come betwixt 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 disasters of the world,

  And on the sixth to turn thy hated back

  Upon our kingdom. If on the seventh day following

  Thy banished trunk be found in our dominions,

  The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter,

  This shall not be revoked.

  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 Goneril and Regan) 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. Enter the Duke of Gloucester with the

  King of France, the Duke of Burgundy, and attendants

  ⌈CORDELIA⌉

  Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

  LEAR My lord of Burgundy,

  We first address toward you, who with this King

  Hath rivalled for our daughter: what in the least

  Will you require in present dower with her

  Or cease your quest of love?

  BURGUNDY

  Most royal majesty,

  I crave no more than hath your highness offered;

  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 fallen. Sir, there she stands.

  If aught within that little seeming substance,

  Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced,

  And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,

  She’s there, and she is yours.

  BURGUNDY

  I know no answer.

  LEAR

  Will you with those infirmities she owes,

  Unfriended, new adopted to our hate,

  Dowered with our curse and strangered with our oath,

  Take her or leave her?

  BURGUNDY

  Pardon me, royal sir.

  Election makes not up in 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

  T‘avert your liking a more worthier way

  Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed

  Almost t’acknowledge hers.

  FRANCE

  This is most strange,

  That she whom even but now was your best object,

  The argument of your praise, balm of your age,

  The best, the dear’st, should in this trice of time

  Commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle

  So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence

  Must be of such unnatural degree

  That monsters it, or your fore-vouched affection

  Fall into taint; which to believe of her

  Must be a faith that reason without miracle

  Should never plant in me.

  CORDELIA (to Lear)

  I yet beseech your majesty,

  If for I want that glib and oily art

  To speak and purpose not—since what I well intend,

  I’ll do’t before I speak—that you make known

  It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,

  No unchaste action or dishonoured step

  That hath deprived me of your grace an
d favour,

  But even the want of that for which I am richer—

  A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue

  That I am glad I have not, though not to have it

  Hath lost me in your liking.

  LEAR

  Better thou

  Hadst not been born than not t’have pleased me better.

  FRANCE

  Is it but this—a tardiness in nature,

  Which often leaves the history unspoke

  That it intends to do?—My lord of Burgundy,

  What say you to the lady? Love’s not love

  When it is mingled with regards that stands

  Aloof from th’entire point. Will you have her?

  She is herself a dowry.

  BURGUNDY (to Lear) Royal King,

  Give but that portion which yourself proposed,

  And here I take Cordelia by the hand,

  Duchess of Burgundy.

  LEAR Nothing. I have sworn. I am firm.

  BURGUNDY (to Cordelia)

  I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father

  That you must lose a husband.

  CORDELIA

  Peace be with Burgundy;

  Since that respect and fortunes are his love,

  I shall not be his wife.

  FRANCE

  Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;

  Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised:

  Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon.

  Be it lawful, I take up what’s cast away.

  Gods, gods! ‘Tis strange that from their cold’st neglect

  My love should kindle to inflamed respect.—

  Thy dowerless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,

  Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.

  Not all the dukes of wat’rish Burgundy

  Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.—

  Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind.

  Thou losest here, a better where to find.

  LEAR

  Thou hast her, France. Let her be thine, for we

  Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see

  That face of hers again. Therefore be gone,

  Without our grace, our love, our benison.—

  Come, noble Burgundy. Flourish. Exeunt all but France