Page 1781 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

KENT

Now, by Apollo, King,
Thou swear’st thy Gods in vain.

LEAR
O, vassal! miscreant! [160]
(Laying his hand upon his sword.)

ALBANY and CORNWALL

Dear Sir, forbear.

KENT

Kill thy physician, and the 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! [165]

On thine allegiance, hear me!
That thou hast sought to make us break our vow,
Which we durst never yet, and with strain’d pride

To come betwixt our sentence and our power,
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear, [170]
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 tenth day following [175]
Thy banish’d trunk be found in our dominions,

The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter,
This shall not be revok’d.

KENT
Fare thee well, King; sith thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. [180]
(To Cordelia.) The Gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,

That justly think’st and hast most rightly said!