EDMUND
Sir, I shall study deserving. GLOUCESTER
He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. The king is coming.
Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants KING LEAR
Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. GLOUCESTER
I shall, my liege.
Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND KING 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 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 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 answer'd. 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 eye-sight, 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 do? Love, and be silent. LEAR
Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, With shadowy forests and with champains 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. REGAN
Sir, I am made Of the self-same metal that my sister is, 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.
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