KING LEAR. (WRITTEN ABOUT 1605.) INTRODUCTION. Among the tragedies of passion King Lear is the one in which passions assume the largest proportions, act upon the widest theatre, and attain their absolute extremes. The story of Lear and his daughters was found by Shakespeare in Holinshed, and he may have taken a few hints from an old play, The True Chronicle History of King Leir. In both Holinshed's version and that of the True Chronicle, the army of Lear and his French allies is victorious; Lear is reinstated in his kingdom; but Holinshed relates how, after Lear's death, her sister's sons warred against Cordelia and took her prisoner, when "being a woman of a manly courage and despairing to recover liberty," she slew herself. With the story of Lear Shakespeare connects that of Gloucester and his two sons. An episode in Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia supplied characters and incidents for this portion of the play, Sidney's blind king of Paphlagonia corresponding to the Gloucester of Shakespeare. But here, too, the story had in the dramatist's criginal a happy ending: the Paphlagonian king is restored to his throne, and the brothers are reconciled. The date of the play is probably 1605 or 1606. It was entered on the Stationers' register, Nov. 26, 1607, and the entry states that it had been acted "upon St. Stephen's day at Christmas last," i. e. Dec. 26, 1606. It was printed in quarto in 1608. Shakespeare cares little to give the opening incidents of his play a look of prosaic, historical probability. The spectator or reader is asked, as it were, to grant the dramatist certain data, and then to observe what the imagination can make of them. Good and evil in this play are clearly severed from one another-(more so than in Macbeth or in Othello)-and at the last, goodness, if we judge merely by external fortune, would seem to be, if not defeated, at least not triumphant. Shakespeare has dared, while paying little regard to mere historical verisimilitude, to represent the most solemn and awful mysteries of life as they actually are, without attempting to offer a ready-made explanation of them. Cordelia dies strangled in prison; yet we know that her devotion of love was not misspent. Lear expires in an agony of grief; but he has been delivered from his pride and passionate wilfulness: he has found that instead of being a master, at whose nod all things must bow, he is weak and helpless, a sport even of the wind and the rain; his ignorance of true love, and pleasare in false professions of love, have given place to an agonized clinging to the love which is real, deep, and tranquil because of its fulness. Lear is the greatest sufferer in Shakespeare's plays; though so old, he has strength which makes him a subject for prolonged and vast agony; and patience is unknown to him. The elements seem to have conspired against him with his unnatural daughters; the upheaval of the moral world, and the rage of tempest in the air seem to be parts of the same gigantic convulsion. In the midst of this tempest wanders unhoused the white-haired Lear; while his fool-most pathetic of all the minor characters of Shakespeare-jests half-wildly, half-coherently, half-bitterly, half-tenderly, and always with a sad remembrance of the happier past. The poor boy's heart has been sore ever since his "young mistress went to France." If Cordelia is pure love, tender and faithful, and Kent is unmingled loyalty, the monsters Goneril and Regan are gorgons rather than women, such as Shakespeare has nowhere else conceived. The aspect of Goneril can almost turn to stone; in Regan's tongue there is a viperous hiss. The story of Gloucester enlarges the basis of the tragedy. Lear's affliction is no mere private incident; there is a breaking of the bonds of nature and society all around us. But Gloucester is suffering for a former sin of selfindulgence, Lear is "more sinned against than sinning." Yet Gloucester is granted a death which is half joyful. Hisaffliction serves as a measure of the longer afflictior of the king. Edgar and Edmund are a contrasted pair-both are men of penetration, energy, and skill, one on the side of evil, the other on the side of good. Everywhere throughout the play Shakespeare's imaginative daring impresses us. Nothing in poetry is bolder or more wonderful than the scene on the night of the tempest in the hovel where the king, whose intellect has now given way, is in company with Edgar, assuming madness, the Fool, with his forced pathetic mirth, and Kent. LEAR, king of Britain. DUKE OF BURGUNDY. DRAMATIS PERSONE. EARL OF GLOUCESTER. EDGAR, son to Gloucester. EDMUND, bastard son to Gloucester. CURAN, a courtier. Old man, tenant to Gloucester. Doctor. SCENE I. King Lear's palace. Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND. Kent. I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall. Glou. It did always seem so to us: but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most; for equalities are so weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety. Kent. Is not this your son, my lord? Glou. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it. 11 Kent. I cannot conceive you. Glou. Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper. Glou. But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account: though this knave came something saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair; there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ? Edm. No, my lord. Glou. My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my honorable friend. Edm. My services to your lordship. Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better. 31 Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. Glou. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. The king is coming. Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants. Lear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. Glou. I shall, my liege. [Exeunt Gloucester and Edmund. Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. Give me the map there. Know that we have divided In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age; Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of again. Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty According to my bond; nor more nor less. Lear. How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little, Lest it may mar your fortunes. Good my lord, Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork invade The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly, When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old man? Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak, When power to flattery bows? To plainness 150 honor's bound, When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom; This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment, Ay, good my lord. Thy youngest daughter does not love thee Half my love with him, half my care and duty: And, in thy best consideration, check Lear. But goes thy heart with this? Cor. Lear. So young, and so untender ? least; Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound Reverbs no hollowness. dower: Kent, on thy life, no more. Kent. My life I never held but as a pawn To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to By all the operation of the orbs lose it, From whom we do exist, and cease to be; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Thy safety being the motive. Lear. Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me main Out of my sight! Kent. See better, Lear; and let me still re160 Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbar ous Scythian,. Or he that makes his generation messes Good my liege, To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 120 Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. Be as well neighbor'd, pitied, and relieved, As thou my sometime daughter. Kent. Lear. Peace, Kent! Come not between the dragon and his wrath. I loved her most, and thought to set my rest On her kind nursery. Hence, and avoid my sight! Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom; I'll tell thee thou dost evil. Hear me, recreant ! On thine allegiance, hear me! 170 Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, So be my grave my peace, as here I give Her father's heart from her! Call France; who stirs ? Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany, With my two daughters' dowers digest this third: 130 Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. To come between our sentence and our power, Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd pride wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. [To Cordelia] The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said! [To Regan and Goneril] And your large speeches may your deeds approve, That good effects may spring from words of love. Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu; Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with Glou. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. Lear. My lord of Burgundy. 191 We first address towards you, who with this king Hath rivall'd for our daughter: what, in the least, Will you require in present dower with her, Most royal majesty, I crave no more than what your highness offer'd, Nor will you tender less. Lear. Right noble Burgundy, When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands: 200 If aught within that little seeming substance, Bur. I know no answer. Lear. Will you, with those infirmities she owes, Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, Almost to acknowledge hers. The argument of your praise, balm of your Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her, I yet beseech your majesty, If for I want that glib and oily art, intend, I'll do't before I speak, -that you make knowr It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, 230 No unchaste action, or dishonor'd step, That hath deprived me of your grace and favor; But even for want of that for which I am richer, A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue Lear. Better thou That you must lose a husband. Cor. Peace be with Burgundy ! 250 Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with Since that respects of fortune are his love, our oath, Take her, or leave her? Bur. Pardon me, royal sir; Election makes not up on such conditions. Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me, 210 I tell you all her wealth. [To France] For you, great king, I shall not be his wife. I would not from your love make such a stray, neglect you To match you where I hate; therefore beseech To avert your liking a more worthier way Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy 261 Can buy this unprized precious maid of me Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind: Thou losest here, a better where to find. Lear. Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison. Come, noble Burgundy. [Flourish. Exeunt all but France, Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia. France. Bid farewell to your sisters. 270 Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes Cordelia leaves you : I know you what you And like a sister am most loath to call are; Your faults as they are named. Use well our father: To your professed bosoms I commit him But yet, alas, stood I within his grace, Reg. Prescribe not us our duties. Let your study Be to content your lord, who hath received you 280 At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted, And well are worth the want that you have wanted. Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. Come, my fair Cordelia. [Exeunt France and Cordelia. Gon. Sister, it is not a little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night. Reg. That's most certain, and with you; next month with us. 290 Gon. You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been little he always loved our sister most; and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly. Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself. Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look to receive from his age, not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them. Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent's banishment. Gon. There is further compliment of leavetaking between France and him. Pray you, let's hit together: if our father carry authority with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us. 310 Reg. We shall further think on't. Gon. We must do something, and i' the beat. [Exeunt, Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take Edm. I know no news, my lord. Glou. No? What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let's see: come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. 40 Edm. Í beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read; and for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your o'er-looking. Glou. Give me the letter, sir. Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame. Glou. Let's see, let's see. Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue, Glou. [Reads] 'This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us till our |