Almost t'acknowledge hers. 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 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 dishonoured step, That hath depriv'd 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. 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 Lear, 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.Almost t' acknowledge hers. 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 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 dishonoured step, That hath depriv'd 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. 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 Lear, 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