Page 1777 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

REGAN

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; [70]

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.

CORDELIA

(aside) Then poor Cordelia! [75]
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, [80]
Than that conferr’d on Goneril. Now, our joy,
Although our last, and 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. [85]

CORDELIA
Nothing, my lord.

LEAR
Nothing?

CORDELIA
Nothing.

LEAR

Nothing will come of nothing: speak again.