1 Farewell, dear sister, farewell, my lord of Gloucester.
2 Pardon, dear madam; Yet to be known shortens my made intent.
3 I never shall endure her, dear my lord, Be not familiar with her.
4 Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly; and in woman out-paramour'd the Turk.
5 Sir, I do know you; And dare, upon the warrant of my note Commend a dear thing to you.
6 Right noble Burgundy, When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; But now her price is fall'n.
7 My dear lord, You know the fiery quality of the Duke; How unremovable and fix'd he is In his own course.
8 O dear father, It is thy business that I go about; Therefore great France My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
9 Some dear cause Will in concealment wrap me up awhile; When I am known aright, you shall not grieve Lending me this acquaintance.
10 His own unkindness, That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting His mind so venomously that burning shame Detains him from Cordelia.
11 In my true heart I find she names my very deed of love; 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.