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No blown ambition3 doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right:
Soon may I hear, and see him!


A Room in Gloster's Castle.

Enter REGAN and Steward.
Reg. But are my brother's powers set forth?

Ay, madam. Reg.

Himself In person there? Stew.

Madam, with much ado: Your sister is the better soldier. Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at

Stew. No, madam.
Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him?
Stew. I know not, lady.

Reg. 'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out,
To let him live; where he arrives, he moves
All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone,

3 No blown ambition -] No inflated, no swelling pride. Beza on the Spanish Armada :

“ Quam bene te ambitio mersit vanissima, ventus,

« Et tumidos tumidæ vos superastis aquæ.” Johnson. In the Mad Lover of Beaumont and Fletcher, the same epithet is given to ambition. Again, in The Little French Lawyer:

“ I come with no blown spirit to abuse you.” Steevens.

your lord —] The folio reads, your lord; and rightly. Goneril not only converses with Lord Edmund, in the Steward's presence, but prevents him from speaking to, or even seeing her husband. - Ritson.

The quartos read—with your lady. In the manuscripts from which they were printed an L only was probably set down, according to the mode of that time. It could be of no consequence to Regan, whether Edmund spoke with Goneril at home, as they had travelled together from the Earl of Gl ster's castle to the Duke of Albany's palace, and had on the road sufficient opportunities for laying those plans of which Regan was apprehensive. On the other hand, Ed. mund's abrupt departure without even speaking to the Duke, to whom he was sent on a commission, could not but appear mysterious, and excite her jealousy Malone.

In pity of his misery, to despatch
His nighted life ;5 moreover, to descry
The strength o'the enemy.

Stew. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter.

Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow; stay with us; The ways are dangerous. Stew.

I may not, madam; My lady charg'd my duty in this business. Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? Might not

you Transport her purposes by word? Belike, Something I know not what:-I 'll love thee much, Let me unseal the letter.? Stew.

Madam, I had rather Reg. I know, your lady does not love her husband; I am sure of that: and, at her late being here, She gave strange ciliads, and most speaking looks To noble Edmund: I know, you are of her bosom.

Stew. I, madam?

Reg. I speak in understanding; you are, I know it:9 Therefore, I do advise you, take this note :1 My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd; And more convenient is, he for my hand, Than for your lady's :-You may gather more.2


5 His nighted life;] i.e. His life made dark as night, by the extinction of his eyes. Steevens.

- with my letter.] So the folio. The quartos read-letters. The meaning is the same. Malone.

7 Let me unseal &c.] I know not well why Shakspeare gives the Steward, who is a mere factor of wickedness, so much fidelity. He now refuses the letter; and afterwards, when he is dying, thinks only how it may be safely delivered. Johnson.

She gave strange wiliads,] Oeillade, Fr. a cast, or significant glance of the eye.

Greene, in his Disputation between a He and She Coney-catcher, 1592, speaks of “amorous glances, sinirking oeiliades,"' &c. Steevens.

9 I speak in understanding; you are, I know it.] Thus the folio. The quartos read--in understanding, for I know't. Malone.

So, in The Winter's Tale: “I speak as my understanding instructs me."


- I do advise you, take this note:] Note means in this place not a letter, but a remark. Therefore observe what I am saying. Johnson. So, in Measure for Measure:

takes note of what is done." Steevens.

If you do find him, pray you, give him this ;3
And when your mistress hears thus much from you,
I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her.
So, fare


well. If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. Stew. 'Would I could meet him, madam! I would

show What party4 I do follow. Reg.

Fare thee well. [Exeunt.


The Country near Dover. Enter GLOSTER, and EDGAR, dressed like a Peasant. Glo. When shall we come to the top of that same hill? Edg. You do climb up it now: look, how we labour. Glo. Methinks, the ground is even. Edg

Horrible steep: Hark, do you hear the sea? Glo.

No, truly. Edg. Why, then your other senses grow imperfect By your eyes' anguish. Glo.

So may it be, indeed : Methinks, thy voice is alter'd, and thou speak'st In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst.

Edg. You are much deceiv'd; in nothing am I chang'd,


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2 — You may gather more.] You may infer more than I have directly told you. Johnson. So, in King Henry VI, P. I:

“ Thou art my heir ; the rest I wish thee gather.Steevens.

- give him this;] I suppose Regan here delivers a ring or some other favour to the Steward, to be conveyed to Edmund.

Malone. 4 What party -] Quarto, What lady. Johnson.

5 Scene VI.) This scene, and the stratagem by which Gloster is cured of his desperation, are wholly borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia, Book II. Johnson.

6 No, truly.] Somewhat, necessary to complete the measure, is omitted in this or the foregoing hemistich Sir Thomas Hanmer supplies the defect, though perhaps but aukwardly, by reading

No truly, not. Steevens. ?—thy voice is alter'd; &c.] Edgar alters his voice in order to pass afterwards for a malignant spirit. Johnson.

But in my garments.

Methinks, you are better spoken. Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place:-stand stilli

How fearful
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low !3
The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles: Half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade !9
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head:
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,


How fearful And dizzy’tis, to cast one's eyes so low ! ] This description has been much admired since the time of Addison, who has remarked, with a poor attempt at pleasantry, that “he who can read it without being giddy, has a very good head, or a very bad one.” The description is certainly not mean, but I am far from thinking it wrought to the utmost excellence of poetry. He that looks from a precipice finds himself assailed by one great and dreadful image of irresistible destruction. But this overwhelming idea is dissipated and enfeebled from the instant that the mind can restore itself to the observation of particulars, and diffuse its attention to distinct objects. The enumeration of the choughs and crows, the samphire-man, and the fishers, counteracts the great effect of the prospect, as it peoples the desert of intermediate vacuity, and stops the mind in the rapidity of its descent through emptiness and horror. Johnson.

It is to be considered that Edgar is describing an imaginary preci. pice, and is not therefore supposed to be so strongly impressed with the dreadful prospect of inevitable destruction, as a person would be who really found himself on the brink of one. M. Mason. 9

Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! ] - Samphire grows in great plenty on most of the sea-cliffs in this country: it is terrible to see how people gather it, hanging by a rope several fathom from the top of the impending rocks as it were in the air." Smith's History of Waterford, p. 315, edit. 1774. Tollet.

This personage is not a mere creature of Shakspeare's imagination, for the gathering of samphire was literally a trade or common occupation in his time, it being carried and cried about the streets, and much used as a pickle. So, in a song in Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, in which the cries of London are enumerated under the title of the cries of Rome:

" I ha’ rock-samphier, rock.samphier ;

“ 'Thus go the cries in Rome's faire towne;

“ First they go up street, and then they go downe:

“ Buy a map, a mill-mat,” &c. Again, in Venner's Via recta, &c. 4to. 1622: “ Samphire is in like manner preserved in pickle, and eaten with meates. It is a very pleasant and familiar sauce, and agreeing with man’s body.Malone.

Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge,
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high:-I'll look no more;
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.2

Set me where you stand.
Edg. Give me your hand: You are now within a foot
Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright.3



- her cock;] Her cock-boat. Johnson. So, in The Tragedy of Hoffman, 1637: “ I caused my lord to leap into the cock, &c.—at last our cock and we were cast ashore." Again, in Barclay's Ship of Fools:

our ship can hold no more, “ Hause in the cocke.. Hence the term cockswain, a petty officer in a ship. Steevens.

2 Topple down headlong.) To topple is to tumble. The word has been already used in Macbeth. So, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599 : “ – fifty people toppled up their heels there.”—

- Again : " he had thought to have toppled his burning car, &c. into the sea.” Steevens.

- for all beneath the moon Would I not leap upright. ] But what danger is in leaping upwards or downwards? He who leaps thus must needs fall again on his feet upon the place from whence he rose. We should read:

Would I not leap outright. i. e. forward: and then being on the verge of a precipice, he must needs fall headlong. Warburton.

I doubt whether the word-outright, was even in use at the time when this play was written.

Upright, with the strict definition—" perpendicularly erect,” is absurd ; for such a leap is physically impossible. Upright is barely expletive: upwards, from the ground." Farmer.

One of the senses of the word upright, in Shakspeare's time, was that in which it is now used. So, in The Tempest:

time goes upright with his carriage." Again, in Florio's translation of Montaigne's Essays, 1603: “I have seene a man take his full carier: standing boult upright on both his feete in the saddle."

And with this signification, I have no doubt it was used here. Every man who leaps, in his first effort to raise himself from the ground, springs upright. Far from thinking of leaping forward, for which, being certain destruction, nothing can coinpensate, Edgar says, he would not for all beneath the moon run the risk of even leaping upwards.

Dr. Warburton idly objects, tliat he who leaps upwards, must

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