dowerless

Fairest Cordelia , that art most rich being poor ;
Most choice , forsaken ; and most loved , despised ,
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 enflamed respect . —
Thy dowerless daughter , king , thrown to my
chance ,
Is queen of us , of ours , and our fair France .
Not all the dukes of wat’rish Burgundy
Can buy this unprized precious maid of me . —
Bid them farewell , Cordelia , though unkind .
Thou losest here a better where to find .

Return to her ? And fifty men dismissed ?
No ! Rather I abjure all roofs , and choose
To wage against the enmity o’ th’ air ,
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl ,
Necessity’s sharp pinch . Return with her ?
Why the hot-blooded France , that dowerless took
Our youngest born — I could as well be brought
To knee his throne and , squire-like , pension beg
To keep base life afoot . Return with her ?
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom .