Whom I have ever honored as my king,
Loved as my father, as my master followed,
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 wouldst thou do, old man?
Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honor’s bound
When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state,
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 sounds
Reverb no hollowness.
Kent, on thy life, no more.
My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thine enemies, nor fear to lose it,
Thy safety being motive.
Out of my sight!