Korol Lir

Tis our intent to shake all cares
from our age,

conferring them on younger strengths,
while we unburdened crawl
toward death.

Our son of Cornwall,
and you, our son of Albany, we have
this hour a constant will to publish

our daughters' several dowers,
that future strife
may be prevented now.

The princes,
France and Burgundy,

great rivals in our youngest
daughter's love,

long here are to be answered.
Tell me, my daughters...
which of you
doth love us most?

That we our largest bounty may extend
where nature doth with merit

Goneril, our eldest born,
speak first.

I love you more than
words can wield the matter.

Dearer than eyesight,
space and liberty,

beyond what can be valued,
rich or rare.

No less than life, with grace,
health, beauty, honour.

As much as child e'er loved,
or father found.
A love that makes my speech unable,
beyond all manner so much I love you.

What shall Cordelia do?
Of all these bounds, even from this
line to this,

we make thee lady: To thine and
Albany's issue be this perpetual.