And on the fixth to turn thy hated back
Upon our Kingdom; if the tenth Day following,
Thy banifht Trunk be found in our Dominions,
The Moment is thy Death, away. By Jupiter,
This thall not be revok'd.

Kent. Fare thee well, King, fith thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and Banifhment is here;
The Gods to their dear fhelter take thee, Maid,
That justly think'st, and haft most rightly faid;
And your large Speeches may your Deeds approve,
That good Effects may fpring from Words of Love:
Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adieu,
He'll fhape his old Courfe in a Country new.

[Exit.
Enter Glofter, with France and Burgundy, and Attendants.
Cor. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble Lord.
Lear. My Lord of Burgundy,

We first addrefs toward you, who, with this King,
Hath rivall'd for our Daughter; what in the leaft
Will you require in prefent Dowre with her,
Or cease your Queft of Love?

Bur. Moft Royal Majefty,

I crave no more than what your Highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender lefs.

Lear. Right noble Burgundy,

When he was dear to us we held her fo,

But now her price is fall'n: Sir, there fhe ftands,
If ought within that little feeming Substance,
Or all of it with our difpleasure piec'd,
And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace,
She's there, and the is yours.

Bur. I know no Anfwer.

Lear. Will you with thofe infirmities he owes, Unfriended, new adopted to our hate,

Dowr'd with our Curfe, and ftranger'd with our Oath, Take leave, or leave her?

Bur. Pardon me, Royal Sir.

Election makes not up in fuch Conditions.

Lear. Then leave her, Sir, for by the Power that made me, I tell you all her Wealth. For you, great King, I would not from your Love make fuch a ftray, To match you where I hate; therefore befeech you

T'a

T'avert your liking a more worthier way,
Than on a wretch whom Nature is afham'd
Almost t'acknowledge hers.

Fra. This is almost strange!

That the, who even but now, was your best Object,
The Argument of your Praise, balm of your Age,
The beft, the deareft, fhould in this trice of time
Commit a thing fo monftrous, to dismantle
So many folds of Favour; fure her Offence
Must be of fuch unnatural Degree,

As Monftrous is; or your fore-voucht affection
Could not fall into Taint; which to believe of her
Must be a Faith, that reafon without miracle
Should never plant in me.

Cor. I yet befeech your Majefty,

If for I want that glib and oily Art,

To speak and purpofe not, fince what I will intend,
I'll do't before I speak, that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulness,
No unchafte Action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath depriv'd me of your Grace and Favour,
But even for want of that, for which I am richer,
A ftill folliciting Eye, and fuch a Tongue,

That I am glad I have not, though not to have it,
Hath loft me in your liking.

Lear. Better thou hadft

Not been born, than not t'have pleas'd me better.
Fra. Is it but this? A tardinefs in Nature,
Which often leaves the History unspoke
That it intends to do; my Lord of Burgundy,
What fay you to the Lady? Love's not Love
When it is mingled with regards, that ftands
Aloof from th' intire Point, will you have her?
She is her felf a Dowry.

Bur. Royal King,

Give but that Portion which your felf propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the Hand,

Dutchefs of Burgundy.

Lear. Nothing

I have Sworn, I am firm.

Bur. I am forry then you have fo loft a Father,

That you must lofe ja Husband.

Dd z

Cor.

Cor. Peace be with Burgundy,

Since that refpect and fortunes are his Love,

I shall not be his Wife.

Fra. Fairelt Cordelia, that are most rich being poor, Moft choice forfaken, and moft lov'd defpis'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't neglect
My love fhould kindle to enflam'd refpe&t.

Thy dowreless Daughter, King, thrown to my chance,
Is Queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
Not all the Dukes of watrifh Burgundy,

Can buy this unpriz'd precious Maid of me.
Bid them farewel, Cordelia, though unkind,
Thou lofeft here, a better where to find.

Lear. Thou haft her France, let her be thine, for we
Have no fuch Daughter, nor fhall ever fee
That face of hers again, therefore be gone,
Without our Grace, our Love, our Benizon:
Come noble Burgundy.

[Flourish.

Fra. Bid farewel to your Sifters.

[Exeunt.

Cor. The Jewels of our Father, with wash'd eyes, Cordelia leaves you, I know you what you are,

And like a Sifter am moft loath to call

Your faults as they are named. Love well our Father: To your profeffed Bofoms I commit him,

But yet alas, ftood I within his Grace,

I would prefer him to a better place,

So farewel to you both.

Reg. Prefcribe not us our Duty.
Gon. Let your Study

Be to content your Lord, who hath receiv'd you
At Fortunes Alms; you have Obedience fcanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted.
Cor. Time fhall unfold what plighted cunning hides,
Who covers Faults, at laft with fhame derides.
Well may you profper.

Fra. Come, my fair Cordelia. [Exeunt France and Cor.
Gon. Sifter, it is not little I have to fay,
Of what most nearly appertains to us both,
I think our Father will go hence to Night.

Reg.

Reg. That's moft certain, and with you; next Month with us.

Gon. You fee how full of Changes his Age is, the obfervation we have made of it hath been little; he always lov'd our Sifter moft, and with what poor Judgment he hath now caft her off, appears too too grofly.

Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his Age; yet he hath ever but flenderly known himself.

Gon. The beft and foundeft of his time hath been but rash; then must we look from his Age, to receive not alone the Imperfections of long engraffed Condi ion, but therewithal the unruly waywardnefs, that infirm and chole ick Years bring with them.

Reg. Such unconftant starts are we like to have from him, as this of Kent's Banishment.

Gon. There is further Complement of leave taking, between France and him; pray you let us fit together, if our Father carry Authority with fuch Difpofition as he bears, this laft furrender of his will but offend us.

Reg. We fhall further think of it.

Gon. We must do fomething, and i'ch' Heat. [Exeunt,
Enter Baftard with a Letter.

Baft. Thou Nature art my Goddess, to thy Law
My Services are bound; wherefore should I
Stand in the Plague of Custom, and permit

The curiofity of Nations to deprive me,

For that I am fome twelve, or fourteen Moonfhints,
Lag of a Brother? Why Bastard? wherefore bale
When my Dimenfions are as well compact,
My Mind as generous, and my Shape as true--
As honeft Madam's Iffue? Why band they thus
With Bafe? with Bafenefs? Baftardy? Bafe, Base ?
Who in the lufty ftealth of Nature, take
More Compofition, and fierce quality,
That doth, within a dull ftale tired Bed,
Go to th' creating a whole Tribe of Fops,
Got'tween a fleep, and wake? Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your Land,
Our Father's Love is to the Baftard Edmund,
Dd 3

As

As to th❜legitimate; fine Word-legitimate-
Well, my Legitimate, if this Letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the bafe
Shall to th'legitimate- -I grow, I profper;
Now Gods, ftand up for Baftards.

Enter Glofter.

Glo. Kent banish'd thus! and France in Choler parted!

And the King gone to Night! Prefcrib'd his Power,

Confin'd to Exibition! All this gone

Upon the Gad!Edmund, how now? what News?

Baft. So please your Lordship, none. [Putting up the Letter.
Glo. Why fo carneftly feek you to put up that Letter?
Baft. I know no News, my Lord.

Glo. What Paper were you reading?

Baft. Nothing, my Lord.

Glo. No! what needed then that terrible Difpatch of it into your Pocket? the quality of nothing, hath not fuch need to hid it felf. Let's fee; come, if it be nothing, I fhall not need Spectacles.

Baft. I befeech you, Sir, pardon me, it is a letter from my Brother, that i have not all o'er-read; and for fo much as I have perus'd, I find it not fit for your o'er-looking. Glou. Give me the Letter, Sir.

Baft. I fhall offend, either to detain, or give it ; The Contents, as in part I understand them,

Are to blame.

Glo. Let's fee, let's fee.

Baft. I hope for my Brother's Juftification, he wrote this but as an Effay, or tafte of my Virtue.

Glo. reads. This Policy, and Reverence of Age, makes the World bitter to the best of our times; keeeps our Fortunes from us, 'till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond Bondage, in the oppreffion of aged Tyranny, which fways, not as it hath Power, but as it is fuffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our Father would fleep 'till I wak'd him, you should enjoy half his Revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your Brother. Edgar. Hum !--- Confpiracy!- Sleep 'till I wake himyou should enjoy half his Revenuemy Son Edgar! had he a Hand to write this! A Heart and a Brain to breed it in!

When came this to you? who brought it?

Baft