King Lear Page #3

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that it intends to do?

My lord of Burgundy,

what say you to the lady?

Will you have her? She is herself a dowry.

Royal Lear, give but that portion

which yourself proposed,

and here I take Cordelia by the hand,

Duchess of Burgundy.

Nothing! I am sworn.

I am sorry that you have so lost a father

that you must lose a husband.

Peace be with Burgundy!

Since that respects of fortune are his love,

I shall not be his wife.

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.

Thou hast her, France; let her be thine,

for we have no such daughter,

nor shall ever see that face of hers again.

Therefore begone,

without our grace, our love,

our benison!

Come, noble Burgundy.

Bid farewell to your sisters.

The jewels of our father, with washed 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.

Prescribe not us our duties.

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.

Time shall unfold

what plighted cunning hides.

Come, my fair Cordelia.

Sister...

It is not a little I have to say of what

most nearly appertains to us both.

I think our father will hence tonight.

That's most certain, and with you,

next month with us.

You see how full of changes his age is.

He always loved our sister most.

'Tis the infirmity of his age. Yet he hath

ever but slenderly known himself.

The best and soundest of his time

hath been but rash.

Such unconstant starts are we like to have

from him as this of Kent's banishment?

Pray you, let us hit together.

If our father carry authority

with such dispositions as he bears,

this last surrender of his

will but offend us.

We shall further think of it.

We must do something, and i' the heat.

Thou, Nature,

art my goddess,

to thy law my services are bound.

Wherefore should I stand

in the plague of custom

and permit the curiosity

of nations to deprive me,

for that I am some twelve or fourteen

moonshines lag of a brother?

Why bastard?

Wherefore base?

When my dimensions are as well-compact,

my mind as generous, and my shape as true

as honest madam's issue?

Why brand they us with base?

With baseness?

Bastardy? Base, base?

Who, in the lusty stealth of nature take

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