GLOUCESTER

          Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

KING LEAR

          My lord of Burgundy.
          We first address towards you, who with this king
          Hath rivall'd for our daughter: what, in the least,
          Will you require in present dower with her,
          Or cease your quest of love?

BURGUNDY

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

KING LEAR

          Right noble Burgundy,
          When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;
          But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands:
          If aught within that little seeming substance,
          Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced,
          And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
          She's there, and she is yours.

BURGUNDY

          I know no answer.

KING LEAR

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

BURGUNDY

          Pardon me, royal sir;
          Election makes not up on such conditions.

KING LEAR

          Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,
          I tell you all her wealth.

To KING OF FRANCE

          For you, great king,
          I would not from your love make such a stray,
          To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
          To avert your liking a more worthier way
          Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed
          Almost to acknowledge hers.

KING OF FRANCE

          This is most strange,
          That she, that even but now was your best object,
          The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
          Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time
          Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
          So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence
          Must be of such unnatural degree,
          That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection
          Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her,
          Must be a faith that reason without miracle
          Could never plant in me.

CORDELIA

          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, murder, or foulness,
          No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
          That hath deprived me of your grace and favour;
          But even for want of that for which I am richer,
          A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
          As I am glad I have not, though not to have it
          Hath lost me in your liking.

KING LEAR

          Better thou
          Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better.

KING OF 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 the entire point. Will you have her?
          She is herself a dowry.

BURGUNDY

          Royal Lear,
          Give but that portion which yourself proposed,
          And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
          Duchess of Burgundy.

KING LEAR

          Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.

BURGUNDY

          I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father
          That you must lose a husband.

CORDELIA

          Peace be with Burgundy!
          Since that respects of fortune are his love,
          I shall not be his wife.

KING OF FRANCE

          Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
          Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised!
          Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon:
          Be it lawful I take up what's cast away.
          Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect
          My love should kindle to inflamed respect.
          Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance,
          Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
          Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy
          Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.
          Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:
          Thou losest here, a better where to find.

KING 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 benison.
          Come, noble Burgundy.

Flourish. Exeunt all but KING OF FRANCE, GONERIL, REGAN, and CORDELIA

KING OF FRANCE

          Bid farewell to your sisters.

CORDELIA

          The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
          Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are;
          And like a sister am most loath to call
          Your faults as they are named. Use well our father:
          To your professed bosoms I commit him
          But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,
          I would prefer him to a better place.
          So, farewell to you both.

REGAN

          Prescribe not us our duties.

GONERIL

          Let your study
          Be to content your lord, who hath received you
          At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,
          And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

CORDELIA

          Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides:
          Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
          Well may you prosper!

KING OF FRANCE

          Come, my fair Cordelia.

Exeunt KING OF FRANCE and CORDELIA