Cordelia, King Lear And His Fool - The True Chronicle History of King Leir - Anonymous

THus to our griefe the obsequies performd

Of our (too late) deceast and dearest Queen,

Whose soule I hope, possest of heavenly joyes,

Doth ride in triumph 'mongst the Cherubins;

Let us request your grave advice, my Lords,

For the disposing of our princely daughters,

For whom our care is specially imployd,

As nature bindeth to advaunce their states,

In royall marriage with some princely mates:

For wanting now their mothers good advice,

Under whose government they have receyved

A perfit patterne of a vertuous life:

Left as it were a ship without a sail a sterne,

Or silly sheepe without a Pastors care;

Although our selves doe dearely tender them,

Yet are we ignorant of their affayres:

For fathers best do know to governe sonnes;

But daughters steps the mothers counsell turnes.

A sonne we want for to succeed our Crowne,

And course of time hath cancelled the date

Of further issue from our withered loynes:

One foote already hangeth in the grave,

And age hath made deepe furrowes in my face:

The world of me, I of the world am weary,

And I would fayne resigne these earthly cares,

And thinke upon the welfare of my soule:

Which by no better meanes may be effected,

Then by resigning up the Crowne from me,

In equall dowry to my daughters three.

Skalliger. A worthy care, my Liege, which well declares,

The zeale you have unto our quondam Queene:

And since your Grace hath licens'd me to speake,

I censure thus; Your Majesty knowing well,

What severall Suters your princely daughters have,

To make them eche a Joynter more or lesse,

As is their worth, to them that love professe.

Leir. No more, nor lesse, but even all alike,

My zeale is fixt, all fashiond in one mould:

Wherefore unpartiall shall my censure be,

Both old and young shall have alike for me.

Nobl. My gracious Lord, I hartily do wish,

That God had lent you an heyre indubitate,

Which might have set upon your royall throne,

When fates should loose the prison of your life,

By whose succession all this doubt might cease;

And as by you, by him we might have peace.

But after‑wishes ever come too late,

And nothing can revoke the course of fate:

Wherefore, my Liege, my censure deemes it best,

To match them with some of your neighbour Kings,

Bordring within the bounds of Albion,

By whose united friendship, this our state

May be protected 'gainst all forrayne hate.

Leir. Herein, my Lords, your wishes sort with mine,

And mine (I hope) do sort with heavenly powers:

For at this instant two neere neyghbouring Kings

Of Cornwall and of Cambria, motion love

To my two daughters, Gonorill and Ragan.

My youngest daughter, fayre Cordella, vowes

No liking to a Monarch, unlesse love allowes.

She is sollicited by divers Peeres;

But none of them her partiall fancy heares.

Yet, if my policy may her beguyle,

Ile match her to some King within this Ile,

And so establish such a perfit peace,

As fortunes force shall ne're prevayle to cease.

Perillus. Of us & ours, your gracious care, my Lord,

Deserves an everlasting memory,

To be inrol'd in Chronicles of fame,

By never-dying perpetuity:

Yet to become so provident a Prince,

Lose not the title of a loving father:

Do not force love, where fancy cannot dwell,

Lest streames being stopt, above the banks do swell.

Leir. I am resolv'd, and even now my mind

Doth meditate a sudden stratagem,

To try which of my daughters loves me best:

Which till I know, I cannot be in rest.

This graunted, when they joyntly shall contend,

Eche to exceed the other in their love:

Then at the vantage will I take Cordella,

Even as she doth protest she loves me best,

Ile say, Then, daughter, graunt me one request,

To shew thou lovest me as thy sisters doe,

Accept a husband, whom my selfe will woo.

This sayd, she cannot well deny my sute,

Although (poore soule) her sences will be mute:

Then will I tryumph in my policy,

And match her with a King of Brittany.

Skal. Ile to them before, and bewray your secrecy.

Per. Thus fathers think their children to beguile,

And oftentimes themselves do first repent,

When heavenly powers do frustrate their intent. Exeunt.

Enter Gonorill and Ragan.

Gon. I marvell, Ragan, how you can indure

To see that proud pert Peat, our youngest sister,

So slightly to account of us, her elders,

As if we were no better then her selfe !

We cannot have a quaynt device so soone,

Or new made fashion, of our choyce invention;

But if she like it, she will have the same,

Or study newer to exceed us both.

Besides, she is so nice and so demure;

So sober, courteous, modest, and precise,

That all the Court hath worke ynough to do,

To talke how she exceedeth me and you

Ra. What should I do ? would it were in my power,

To find a cure for this contagious ill:

Some desperate medicine must be soone applyed,

To dimme the glory of her mounting fame;

Els ere't be long, sheele have both prick and praise,

And we must be set by for working dayes.

Doe you not see what severall choyce of Suters

She daily hath, and of the best degree?

Say, amongst all, she hap to fancy one,

And have a husband when as we have none:

Why then, by right, to her we must give place,

Though it be ne're so much to our disgrace.

Gon. By my virginity, rather then she shall have

A husband before me,

Ile marry one or other in his shirt:

And yet I have made halfe a graunt already

Of my good will unto the King of Cornwall.

Ra. Sweare not so deeply (sister) here cometh my L.Skalliger:

Something his hasty comming doth import. [Enter Skal.

Skal. Sweet Princesses, I am glad I met you heere so luckily,

Having good newes which doth concerne you both,

And craveth speedy expedition.

Ra. For God's sake tell us what it is, my Lord,

I am with child untill you utter it.

Skal. Madam, to save your longing, this it is;

Your father in great secrecy to day,

Told me, he meanes to marry you out of hand,

Unto the noble Prince of Cambria;

You Madam, to the King of Cornwalls Grace:

Your yonger sister he would fayne bestow

Upon the rich King of Hibernia:

But that he doubts, she hardly will consent;

For hitherto she ne're could fancy him.

If she do yeeld, why then, betweene you three,

He will devide his kingdome for your dowries.

But yet there is further mystery,

Which, so you will conceale, I will disclose.

Gon. What e're thou speakest to us, kind Skalliger,

Thinke that thou speakest it only to thy selfe.

Skal. He earnestly desireth for to know,

Which of you three do beare most love to him,

And on your loves he so extremely dotes,

As never any did, I thinke, before.

He presently doth meane to send for you,

To be resolv'd of this tormenting doubt:

And looke, whose answere pleaseth him the best,

They shall have most unto their marriages.

Ra. O that I had some pleasing Mermayds voyce,

For to inchaunt his sencelesse sences with!

Skal. For he supposeth that Cordella will

(Striving to go beyond you in her love)

Promise to do what ever he desires:

Then will he straight enjoyne her for his sake,

The Hibernian King in marriage for to take.

This is the summe of all I have to say;

Which being done, I humbly take my leave,

Not doubting but your wisdomes will foresee,

What course will best unto your good agree.

Gon. Thanks, gentle Skalliger, thy kindnes undeserved,

Shall not be unrequited, if we live. Exit. Skalliger.

Ra. Now have we fit occasion offred us,

To be reveng'd upon her unperceyv'd.

Gon. Nay, our revenge we will inflict on her,

Shall be accounted piety in us:

I will so flatter with my doting father,

As he was ne're so flattred in his life.

Nay, I will say, that if it be his pleasure,

To match me to a begger, I will yeeld:

For why, I know what ever I do say,

He means to match me with the Cornwall King.

Ra. Ile say the like: for I am well assured,

What e're I say to please the old mans mind,

Who dotes, as if he were a child agayne,

I shall injoy the noble Cambrian Prince:

Only, to feed his humour, will suffice,

To say, I am content with any one

Whom heele appoynte me; this will please him more,

Then e're Apolloes musike pleased Jove.

Gon. I smile to think, in what a wofull plight

Cordella will be, when we answere thus:

For she will rather dye, then give consent

To joyne in marriage with the Irish King:

So will our father think, she loveth him not,

Because she will not graunt to his desire,

Which we will aggravate in such bitter termes,

That he will soone convert his love to hate:

For he, you know, is always in extremes.

Rag. Not all the world could lay a better plot,

I long till it be put in practice. Exeunt.

Enter Leir and Perillus.

Leir. Perillus, go seeke my daughters,

Will them immediately come and speake with me.

Per. I will, my gracious Lord. Exit.

Leir. Oh, what a combat feeles my panting heart,

'Twixt childrens love, and care of Common weale!

How deare my daughters are unto my soule,

None knowes, but he, that knowes my thoghts & secret deeds.

Ah, little do thy know the deare regard,

Wherein I hold their future state to come:

When they securely sleepe on beds of downe,

These aged eyes do watch for their behalfe:

While they like wantons sport in youthfull toyes,

This throbbing heart is pearst with dire annoyes.

As doth the Sun excceed the smallest Starre;

So much the fathers love exceeds the childs.

Yet my complaynts are causelesse: for the world

Affords not children more conformable:

And yet, me thinks, my mind presageth still

I know not what; and yet I feare some ill.

Enter Perillus, with the three daughters.

Well, here my daughters come: I have found out

A present meanes to rid me of this doubt.

Gon. Our royall Lord and father, in all duty,

We come to know the tenour of your will,

Why you so hastily have sent for us?

Leir. Deare Gonorill, kind Ragan, sweet Cordella,

Ye florishing branches of a Kingly stocke,

Sprung from a tree that once did flourish greene,

Whose blossomes now are nipt with Winters frost,

And pale grym death doth wayt upon my steps,

And summons me unto his next Assizes.

Therefore, deare daughters, as ye tender the safety

Of him that was the cause