IAN HOLM - KING LEAR - Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower - SHAKESPEARE
Shakespeare "King Lear"- (1997 TV-Ian Holm), Act 1, scene 1
Ian Holm ... Lear
Barbara Flynn ... Goneril
Amanda Redman ... Regan
Victoria Hamilton ... Cordelia
David Burke ... Kent
Timothy West ... Gloucester
Adrian Irvine ... France
Nicholas R. Bailey ... Burgundy
To thee and thine hereditary ever
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom,
No less in space, validity, and pleasure
Than that conferr'd [confirmed] on Goneril. Now, our joy,
Although our last and least [the last, not least in our dear love]; to whose young love
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
Strive to be interest; what can you say to draw [win]
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
Nothing, my lord.
Nothing will [can] come of nothing: speak again.
Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
According to my bond; no more nor less.
How, how, [Go to, go to] Cordelia? mend your speech a little,
Lest it may mar your fortunes.
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,
[To love my father all].
But goes thy heart with this?
Ay, my good lord.
So young, and so untender?
So young, my lord, and true.
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 neighbour'd, pitied, and relieved,
As thou my sometime daughter.
Good my liege--
Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
I loved her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery. 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. Cornwall and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers digest this 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 sustain'd, shall our abode
Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain
The name, and all the addition to a king;
The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,
Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
This coronet part betwixt you.
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Loved as my father, as my master follow'd,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers--
The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.
Let it fall rather, though the fork invade
The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,
When Lear is mad. What wilt 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 [stoops] to folly. Reserve thy state [Reverse thy doom];
And, in thy best consideration, check
This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound
Reverbs no hollowness.
Kent, on thy life, no more.
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to lose it,
Thy safety being the motive.
Out of my sight!
See better, Lear; and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye.
Now, by Apollo,--
Now, by Apollo, king,
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain.
O, vassal! miscreant! [recreant]
Laying his hand on his sword
Dear sir, forbear.
[Do:] Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy gift [doom];
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
I'll tell thee thou dost evil.
Hear me, recreant, on thine allegiance, hear me;
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow,
Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd [strayed] pride
To come between our sentence and our power,
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,
Our potency made good, take thy reward.
Five [four] days we do allot thee, for provision
To shield thee from disasters [diseases] of the world;
And on the sixth [fifth] to turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following,
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death. Away! by Jupiter,
This shall not be revoked.
Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom [friendship] lives hence, and banishment is here.
The gods to their dear shelter [protection] take thee, maid,
That justly [rightly] think'st, and hast most rightly [justly] said!
To REGAN and GONERIL
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.
Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with KING OF FRANCE, BURGUNDY, and Attendants
Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
My lord of Burgundy,
We first address towards you, who with this king
Hath rivall'd for our daughter: what, in the least,
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love?
Most royal majesty,
I crave no more than what your highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender less?
Right noble Burgundy,
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;
But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands:
If aught within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced,
And nothing more [else], may fitly like your grace,
She's there, and she is yours.
I know no answer.
Will you, with those infirmities she owes,
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
Dower'd [covered] with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
Take her, or leave her?
Pardon me, royal sir;
Election makes not up on such conditions.
Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,
I tell you all her wealth.
To KING OF FRANCE
For you, great king,
I would not from your love make such a stray,
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
To avert your liking a more worthier way
Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed
Almost to acknowledge hers.
This is most strange,
That she, that even but now was your [best] object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
The [Most] best, the [most] dearest, 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-vouch'd affection
Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her,
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Could never plant in me.
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 [may know]
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste [unclean] action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath deprived me of your grace and favour;
But even for want of that for which I am richer,
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
As I am glad I have not, though not to have it
Hath lost me in your liking.
[Go to, go to,] Better thou
Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better.
Is it but [no more than] 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 [respects] that stand
Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her?
She is herself a [and] dowry.
Give but that portion which yourself proposed,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Duchess of Burgundy.
Nothing. I have sworn; I am firm.
[to Cordelia] I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father
That you must lose a husband.
Peace be with Burgundy,
Since that respect and fortunes [respects of fortune] are his love,
I shall not be his wife.
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 waterish Burgundy
Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
Thou losest here, a better where to find.
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.