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We make thee lady to thine and Albany's issue Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter, Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.

Reg. I am made of that self metal as my sister,

And prize me at her worth. In my true heart

I find she names my very deed of love;

Only she comes too short: that I profess

Myself an enemy to all other joys

Which the most precious square of sense possesses,

And find I am alone felicitate

In your dear highness' love.

Cor. [Aside.]
Cordelia !

Then poor

And yet not so; since I am sure my love's

More ponderous than my tongue.

Lear. To thee and thine, hereditary ever,

Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom,

No less in space, validity, and pleasure,

Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now, our joy, Although our last, not least; to whose young love

The vines of France and milk of Burgundy

Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw A third more opulent than your sisters?

Speak.

Cor. Nothing, my lord.
Lear. Nothing?

Cor. Nothing.

Lear. Nothing will come of
nothing: speak again.
Cor. Unhappy that I am,
I cannot heave

My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty

According to my bond; no more nor less.

Lear. How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little, Lest you may mar your fortunes.

Cor.

Good my lord,

You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I

Return those duties back as are right fit,

Obey you, love you, and most honour you.

Why have my sisters husbands, if they say

They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,

That lord whose hand must

take my plight

carry

shall

Half my love with him, half my care and duty

Sure I shall never marry like my sisters,

To love my father all.

Lear. But goes thy heart with this?

Cor. Ay, my good lord. Lear. So young, and so untender?

Cor. So young, my lord, and true.

Lear. Let it be so; thy truth then be thy dower: For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,

The mysteries of Hecate and the night,

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