CORDELIA

I yet beseech your majesty, —

If for I want that glib and oily art,

To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend,

I’ll do’t before I speak, — that you make known

It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,

No unchaste action, or dishonour’d step,

That hath deprived me of your grace and favour;

But even for want of that for which I am richer,

A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue

As I am glad I have not, though not to have it

Hath lost me in your liking.