[To France.]

 

For you, great King,

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 worthier way

Than on a wretch whom Nature is asham'd

Almost t' acknowledge hers.

FRANCE.

This is most strange,

That she, whom even but now was your [best] object,

The argument of your praise, balm of your age,

The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time

Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle

So many folds of favor. Sure her offense

Must be of such unnatural degree

That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection

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 dishonored step,

That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favor,

But even for want of that for which I am richer –

A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue

That I am glad I have not, though not to have it

Hath lost me in your liking.

LEAR.

Better thou

Hadst not been born than not t' 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 stands

Aloof from th' entire point. Will you have her?

She is herself a dowry.

BUR.

Royal King,

Give but that portion which yourself propos'd,

And here I take Cordelia by the hand,

Duchess of Burgundy.

LEAR.

Nothing. I have sworn, I am firm.

BUR.

I am sorry 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 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 it lawful I take up what's cast away.

Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect

My love should kindle to inflam'd respect.

Thy dow'rless 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 farewell, 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.

 

[To Cordelia.]

 

Therefore be gone,

Without our grace, our love, our benison. –

Come, noble Burgundy.

 

Flourish. Exeunt [all but France, Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia].

 

FRANCE.

Bid farewell to your sisters.

COR.

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. Love 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.

REG.

Prescribe not us our duty.

GON.

Let your study

Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you

At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,

And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

COR.

Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides,

Who covers faults, at last with shame derides.

Well may you prosper!

FRANCE.

Come, my fair Cordelia.

 

Exeunt France and Cordelia.

 

GON. Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night.

REG. That's most certain, and with you; next month with us.

GON. You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath [not] been little. He always lov'd our sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly.

REG. 'Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.

GON. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look from his age to receive not alone the imperfections of long-ingraff'd condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them.

REG. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent's banishment.

GON. There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you let us [hit] together; if our father carry authority with such disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.

REG. We shall further think of it.

GON. We must do something, and i' th' heat.

 

Exeunt.

 

 

Scene II

Enter [Edmund the] Bastard [with a letter].

 

EDM.

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

More composition, and fierce quality,

Than doth within a dull, stale, tired bed

Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops,

Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well then,

Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.

Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund

As to th' legitimate. Fine word, ›legitimate‹!

Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed

And my invention thrive, Edmund the base

Shall [top] th' legitimate.