Cor.
Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

Lear.
My lord of Burgundy,
We first address tow'rd you, who with this King
Have rivall'd for our daughter; what at least
Will you require in present dowre with her,
Or cease your quest of love?

Bur.
Most royal majesty,
I crave no more than what your highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender less.

Lear.
Right noble Burgundy,
When she was dear to us we held her so,
But now her price is fall'n: Sir, there she stands,

If ought within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it with our displeasure pierc'd,
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
She's there, and she is yours.

Bur.
I know no answer.

Lear.
Will you with those infirmities she owes,
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
Dowr'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
Take her, or leave her?

Bur.
Pardon, royal Sir.
Election makes not up on such conditions.

Lear.
Then leave her Sir, for by the pow'r that made me,
I tell you all her wealth.—For you, great King, [To France.
I would not from your love make such a stray,
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
T' avert your liking a more worthy way
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd
Almost t' acknowledge hers.

France.
This is most strange!
That she, who ev'n but now was your best object,
Your Praise's argument, balm of your age,
Dearest and best; should in this trice of time
Commit a thing so monst'rous, to dismantle
So many folds of favour! sure th' offence
Must be of such unnatural degree,
As monstrous is; or your fore-voucht affection
Could not fall into taint; which to believe of her
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Should never plant in me.

Cor.
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

It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulness,
No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour;
But ev'n for want of that, for which I'm richer,
A still solliciting eye, and such a tongue,
That I am glad I've not, though not to have it
Hath lost me in your liking.

Lear.
Better thou
Hadst not been born, than not have pleas'd me better.

France.
Is it but 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, that stand
Aloof from th'intire point. Say will you have her?
She is her self a dowry.

Bur.
Royal King,
Give but that portion which your self propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Dutchess of Burgundy.

Lear.
Nothing—I've sworn.

Bur.
I'm sorry then you have so lost a father,
That you must lose a husband.

Cor.
Peace be with Burgundy,
Since that respect and fortunes are his love,
I shall not be his wife.

France.
Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor,
Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd!
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon,
Be't lawful I take up what's cast away.
Gods, gods! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect
My love should kindle to enflam'd respect.

Thy dowreless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,
Is Queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
Not all the Dukes of wat'rish Burgundy,
Can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.
Bid them farewel, Cordelia, though unkind,
Thou losest here, a better where to find.

Lear.
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 benizon:
Come noble Burgundy. [Flourish. [Exeunt.

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