If aught within that little, feeming fubftance, Bur. Lear. Sir, I know no answer. Will you, with those infirmities the owes, Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath, Take her, or leave her ? Bur. Pardon me, royal fir; Election makes not up on fuch conditions, Lear. Then leave her, fir; for, by the power 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, France. This is moft ftrange! That the, that even but now was your best object, That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection Cor. I yet befeech your majesty, (If for I want that glib and oily art, Τα To speak and purpofe not; fince what I well intend, and favour: But even for want of that, for which I am richer; That I am glad I have not, though, not to have it, Lear. Better thou Hadft not been born, than not to have pleas'd me better. France. Is it but this? a tardiness in nature, Give but that portion which yourself propos'd, Duchefs of Burgundy. Lear. Nothing I have fworn; I am firm. : Bur. I am forry then, you have so lost a father, That you must lose a husband. Cor. Peace be with Burgundy! Since that respects of fortune are his love, I fhall not be his wife. France. Fairest Cordelia, that art moft rich, being poor; Moft choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd! Thee and thy virtues here I feize upon : Be it lawful, I take up what's caft away. Gods, gods! 'tis ftrange, that from their cold'ft neglect My My love fhould kindle to inflam'd respect. Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, Lear. Thou haft her, France: let her be thine; for we Have no fuch 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 LEAR, BURGUNDY, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GLOSTER, and Attendants. France. Bid farewell to your fifters. Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are; And, like a fifter, am most loath to call Your faults, as they are nam'd. Ufe well our father: But yet, alas! ftood I within his grace, I would prefer him to a better place. Gon. Prefcribe not us our duties. Well may you prosper! France. Come, my fair Cordelia. [Exeunt FRANCE and CORDELIA. Gon. |