1 Come, come, I am a king, my masters, know you that.
2 The safer sense will ne'er accommodate His master thus.
3 Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear And leave you to attend him.
4 I have a journey, sir, shortly to go; My master calls me, I must not say no.
5 No, sir; but you have that in your countenance which I would fain call master.
6 With you, goodman boy, if you please: come, I'll flesh ye; come on, young master.
7 If I die for it, as no less is threatened me, the King my old master must be relieved.
8 Take up thy master; If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, With thine, and all that offer to defend him, Stand in assured loss.
9 Royal Lear, Whom I have ever honour'd as my king, Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd, As my great patron thought on in my prayers.
10 Now, banish'd Kent, If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st, Shall find thee full of labours.
11 General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine: Witness the world that I create thee here My lord and master.
12 The noble Duke my master, My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight: By his authority I will proclaim it, That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks, Bringing the murderous coward to the stake; He that conceals him, death.
13 Sir, I am too old to learn: Call not your stocks for me: I serve the King; On whose employment I was sent to you: You shall do small respect, show too bold malice Against the grace and person of my master, Stocking his messenger.
14 Let me beseech your grace not to do so: His fault is much, and the good King his master Will check him for't: your purpos'd low correction Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches For pilferings and most common trespasses, Are punish'd with.
15 A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword To his great master; who, thereat enrag'd, Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead; But not without that harmful stroke which since Hath pluck'd him after.
16 Such smiling rogues as these, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain Which are too intrince t'unloose; smooth every passion That in the natures of their lords rebel; Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks With every gale and vary of their masters, Knowing naught, like dogs, but following.
17 I never gave him any: It pleas'd the King his master very late To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; When he, compact, and flattering his displeasure, Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd And put upon him such a deal of man, That worthied him, got praises of the King For him attempting who was self-subdu'd; And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit, Drew on me here again.
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