“Now cracks a noble heart,” said Horatio in loving farewell. “Good-night, sweet Prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!” King Lear [Illustration] The Dowerless Daughter Long ago in Britain there lived a certain King called Lear, who had three daughters--Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia. The King dearly loved all his daughters, but in especial the youngest one, Cordelia. His eldest daughter, Goneril, was married to the Duke of Albany; Regan was married to the Duke of Cornwall; and the Princes of France and Burgundy were rival suitors for the hand of Cordelia. When King Lear grew old, wishing to shake off all cares and business, he decided to divide his kingdom among his children, leaving the largest portion to the one who loved him the most. He therefore bade each one in turn say how much she loved him, and he hoped, and fully expected, that his favourite, Cordelia, would prove that her affection was the greatest. Goneril, the eldest, was told to speak first. She at once replied, with great glibness, that she loved her father more than words could express--dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty; beyond what could be valued, rich or rare; no less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; as much as child ever loved; a love that made breath poor, and speech powerless; beyond all manner of so much, she loved him. Cordelia, hearing this fluent harangue, was quite astounded, for she knew her sister’s cold and heartless nature. “What shall Cordelia do? Love and be silent,” she said to herself, for she did not choose to compete with loud and empty protestations of this kind. King Lear, however, was greatly pleased, and awarded to his son-in-law Albany, as Goneril’s dowry, an ample third of his kingdom. Then came Regan’s turn. She declared that everything her sister had said she felt exactly in the same manner, only in a larger measure; and she professed that she was an enemy to every joy excepting her father’s love. Lear thereupon awarded her another third of his kingdom, equal in size to Goneril’s. Lastly he turned to Cordelia, and asked her what she could say to win a third portion of his possessions, richer than her sisters’. Cordelia, disgusted at their false hypocrisy, answered simply: “Nothing.” “Nothing!” echoed Lear. “Nothing,” repeated Cordelia. “Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again,” commanded the frowning King. Cordelia answered quietly that she loved her father as a child ought to do--she obeyed, honoured, and loved him as a father. If her sisters pretended that he was everything in the world to them, why had they husbands? Haply, when she herself wedded, half her love and duty would go to her husband; she would never marry if, like her sisters, all her love was still to remain with her father. “Goes thy heart with this?” asked Lear. “Ay, good my lord,” said Cordelia. “So young and so untender?” “So young, my lord, and true,” was the steadfast answer.