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  • Title: The History of King Leir (Quarto, 1605)
  • Editor: Andrew Griffin

  • Copyright Queen's Men Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: Anonymous
    Editor: Andrew Griffin
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    The History of King Leir (Quarto, 1605)

    The History of King Leir
    2320And honours you with as respectiue duty,
    As if you were the Monarch of the world.
    Cor. But I will neuer rise from off my knee, She kneeles.
    Vntill I haue your blessing, and your pardon
    Of all my faults committed any way,
    2325From my first birth vnto this present day.
    Leir. The blessing, which the God of Abraham gaue
    Vnto the trybe of Iuda, light on thee,
    And multiply thy dayes, that thou mayst see
    Thy childrens children prosper after thee.
    2330Thy faults, which are iust none that I do know,
    God pardon on high, and I forgiue below. she riseth.
    Cor. Now is my heart at quiet, and doth leape
    Within my brest, for ioy of this good hap:
    And now (deare father) welcome to our Court,
    2335And welcome (kind Perillus) vnto me,
    Myrrour of vertue and true honesty.
    Leir. O, he hath bin the kindest friend to me,
    That euer man had in aduersity.
    Per. My toung doth faile, to say what heart doth think,
    2340I am so rauisht with exceeding ioy.
    King. All you haue spoke: now let me speak my mind,
    And in few words much matter here conclude: he kneeles.
    If ere my heart do harbour any ioy,
    Or true content repose within my brest,
    2345Till I haue rooted out this viperous sect,
    And repossest my father of his Crowne,
    Let me be counted for the periurdst man,
    That euer spake word since the world began. rise.
    Mum. Let me pray to, that neuer pray'd before; Mumfordkneeles.
    2350If ere I resalute the Brittish earth,
    (As (ere't be long) I do presume I shall)
    And do returne from thence without my wench,
    Let me be gelded for my recompence. rise.
    King. Come, let's to armes for to redresse this wrong:
    2355Till I am there, me thinks, the time seemes long. Exeunt.
    Enter Ragan sola.
    Rag. I feele a hell of conscience in my brest,
    Tormenting me with horrour for my fact,