King LEAR and his Three Daughters.
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KING Lear once ruled in this land,
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With princely pride and peace:
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And had all things with content
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That might his joys increase:
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Amongst those things that nature gave,
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Three daughters fair had he,
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So princely seeming beautiful,
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As fairer could not be.
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So on a time it pleasd the king,
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A question thus to move:
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Which of his daughters to his grace
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Could shew the dearest love.
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For to my age you bring content;
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Quoth he, then let me hear
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Which of you three in plighted troth
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The kindest will appear.
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To this the eldest first began,
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Dear father mild, quoth she,
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Before your face to do you good
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My blood shall renderd be:
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And for your sake my bleeding heart
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Shall there be cut in twain,
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Ere that I see your reverend age
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The smallest grief sustain.
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And so will I, the second said,
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Dear father for your sake;
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The worst of all extremities
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For you Ill undertake.
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And serve your highness night and day,
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With diligen[ce] and love;
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The s[we]et content an pure delight,
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Discomfort may remove,
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In doing so, you glad my soul,
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The aged father replyd.
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But what sayist thou, my youngest girl,
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How stands thy love allyd!
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My love, quoth young Cordelia, then,
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Which to your grace I owe;
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Shall be the duty of a child,
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And that is all I shall bestow.
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And wilt thou show no more, said he,
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Than doth thy duty bind?
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I well perceive thy love is small,
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When as no more we find.
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Henceforth I banish thee my court,
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Thou art no child of mine:
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Nor any part of this my realm,
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By favour shall be thine.
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Thy eldest sister offer more
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Than well I can demand;
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To whom I equally bestow
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My kingdom and my land.
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My pompeous state and all my goods
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That lovingly I may
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With those thy sisters be mantaind,
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Until my dying day.
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Thus flattering speaches won renown,
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By these two sisters here:
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The third had causeless banishment.
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Yet was her love most dear.
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For poor Cordelia patiently
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Went wandering up and down,
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Upheld, unpityd gentle maid,
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Thro many an English town.
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Until at last in famous France,
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She gentle fortune found:
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Tho poor and bare, yet she was deemd
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The fairest on the ground,
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Where when the King her virtue heard,
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And this fair lady seen.
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With full consent of all the court,
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He made her his wife and queen.
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Her father, old king Lear, this while
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With his two daughters staid,
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Forgetful of their promisd loves.
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Full soon the same denyd.
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And living in Queen Regans court,
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The eldest of the twain,
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She took from him his chiefest means,
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And most of all his train,
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But whereas twenty men were wont
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To wait with bended knee;
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She gave allowance unto ten,
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And after scarce to three.
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Nay, one she thought to much for him
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So she took all away
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In hopes that in her court, good king!
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He would no longer stay.
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Am I rewarded thus, said he,
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For giving all I have
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Unto children? and to beg
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For what I want or crave.
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Ill go unto my Goneril,
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My second child, I know
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Will be more kind and beautiful,
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And will relieve my woe.
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Full fast he hies unto her court.
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Where when she hears his moan,
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Returnd him answer that she grievd
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That all his means were gone.
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But no ways could relieve his wants,
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Yet if that he would stay,
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Within her kitchen, he might have
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What scullions gave away.
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When he had heard with bitter tears,
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He made this answer then,
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In what I did let me be made
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Examples to all men.
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I will return again, said he,
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Unto my Regan court;
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She will not use me thus, I hope,
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But in a kinder sort.
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Where when he came she gave command
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To drive him thence away:
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When he was well within my court,
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Quoth she, he could not stay.
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Then back again to Goneril,
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The woeful king did hie:
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That in her kitchen he might have,
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What scullions did set by.
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But there of that he was denyd,
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Which he had promisd late;
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For once refusing he should not
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Come after to her gate.
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Thus twixt his daughters, for relief,
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He wanderd up and down,
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Being glad to feed on beggars food,
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That lately wore a crown.
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And calling to remembrance then
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His youngest daughters words,
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Who said the duty of a child
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Was all that love affords;
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But doubting to repair to her,
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Whom he had banishd so,
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Grew frantic mad, and in his mind,
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He bore the wounds of woe.
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Which made him rend his milk white locks,
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And tresses from his head:
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And all with blood bestaind his cheeks,
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With age and honor spread.
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To hills and woods and watery founts
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He made his hourly moan,
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To hills and woods and senseless things,
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Did seem to sigh and groan.
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Even thus pressd with discontent
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He passed oer to France.
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In hopes from kind Cordelia there,
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To find some gentler chance.
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Most virtuous dame! which when she heard
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Of this her fathers grief,
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As in duty bound, she quickly sent
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Him comfort and relief.
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And by a train of noble peers,
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In brave and gallant sort,
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She gave in charge he should be brought
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To Againipuss court;
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Whose royal king, whose noble mind,
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So freely gave consent
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To muster up his knights at arms,
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To fame and courage bent.
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And so to England came with speed,
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To repossess king Lear;
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And drive his daughters from their thrones
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By his Cordalia dear.
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Where she, true hearted noble queen,
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Was in the battle slain;
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Yet he, good king, in his old days
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Possessd his crown again.
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But when he heard of Cordelias death,
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Who dyd indeed for love
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Of her dear father in whose cause
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She did the battle move;
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He swooning fell upon her breast
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From whence he never parted;
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But on her bosom left his life,
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That was so truly hearted.
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The Lords and Nobles when they saw
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The end of these events,
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The other sisters unto death
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They doomed by consents.
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And being dead their crowns they left
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Unto the next of kin.
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Thus have you seen the fall of pride,
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And disobedient sin.
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