Speeches (Lines) for King of France
in "King Lear"
Total: 5

1

I,1,232

Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the pow'r that made me,
I tell you all her wealth. [To France] For you, great King,
I would not from your love make such a stray
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
T' avert your liking a more worthier way
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd
Almost t' acknowledge hers.

King of 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.

2

I,1,256

Lear. Better thou
Hadst not been born than not t' have pleas'd me better.

King of 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.

3

I,1,273

Cordelia. Peace be with Burgundy!
Since that respects of fortune are his love,
I shall not be his wife.

King of 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.
Not all the dukes in wat'rish Burgundy
Can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind.
Thou losest here, a better where to find.

4

I,1,291

(stage directions). Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, [Cornwall, Albany, Gloucester, and Attendants].

King of France. Bid farewell to your sisters.

5

I,1,308

Cordelia. Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides.
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
Well may you prosper!

King of France. Come, my fair Cordelia.