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Gon. No more; 'tis foolish.

Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile feem vile;
Filths favour but themselves-What have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd ?
A father, and a gracious aged man,

Moft barb'rous, moft degenerate, have you madded.
Cou'd my good brother fuffer you to do it,
A man, a Prince by him fo benefited?
If that the heav'ns do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame the vile offences,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monfters of the deep.

Gon. Milk-liver'd man!"

That bear'ft a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who haft not in thy brows an eye difcerning

Thine honour, from thy fuffering: that not know'ft, (42)
Fools do thefe villains pity, who are punish'd

Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
France fpreads his banners in our noiseless land,
With plumed helm thy flayer begins his threats;
Whilft thou, a moral fool, fit'ft ftill, and cry'ft,
"Alack! who does he fo?

Alb. See thyfelf, devil:

Proper deformity feems not in the fiend
So horrid as in woman..

Gon. O vain fool!

Alb. Thou chang'd, and felf-converted thing! For fhame, (43)

And Seneca in his Trojan Captives.

Quæ tenera cæfo virga de trunco ftetit,

Par ipfa matri

And more inftances I might have produced from Rutgurfius, in his Varia Lection. 1. 4. c. 16.

(42) -that not know'ft,

Fools do thefe villains pity,] This I have retriev'd from the first Quarto. It feems first to have been retrench'd by the players, for brevity's Lake: but, befides that the lines are fine, they admirably display the taunting, termagant difpofition of Gonerill, and paint out her contempt of her husband's mild pacifick spirit.

(43) Thou chang'd, and felf-converted thing!] This reply of Albany to his imperious wife was likewife retrench'd; but ought not for the future to be loft to our author..

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Be-monfter not thy feature. Were't my fitness
To let thefe hands obey my [boiling] blood,
They're apt enough to diflocate and tear

Thy flesh and bones.Howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman's fhape doth fhield thee.-

Gon. Marry, your manhood now!

Enter Meffenger.

Mef. Oh, my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead, Slain by his fervant, going to put out

The other eye of Glofter.

Alb. Glo'fter's eyes!

Mef. A fervant, that he bred, thrill'd with remorfe, Oppos'd against the act; bending his fword

To his great mafter: who, thereat enrag'd,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead:
But not without that harmful ftroke, which fince
Hath pluck'd him after.

Alb. This fhews you are above,

You Juftices, that these our nether crimes
So fpeedily can venge. But O poor Glofter!
Loft he his other eye?

Mef. Both, both, my Lord.

This letter, madam, craves a fpeedy answer: 'Tis from your fifter.

Gon. One way, I like this well;

But being widow, and my Glo'fter with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck

Upon my hateful life. Another way,

The news is not fo tart. I'll read, and answer.

[Exit.

Alb. Where was his fon, when they did take his eyes?

Mef. Come with my Lady hither.

Alb. He's not here.

Mef. No, my good Lord, I met him back again.

Alb. Knows he the wickedness?

Mef. Ay, my good Lord, 'twas he inform'd against him, And quit the houfe of purpofe, that their punishment Might have the freer courfe.

Alb. Glofter, I live

To thank thee for the love thou fhew't the King,

And

And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend,

Tell me, what more thou know'it.

Kent. T

SCENE, Dover.

Enter Kent, and a Gentleman.

[Exeunt.

HE King of France fo fuddenly gone back!
Know you the reafon ?

Gent. Something he left imperfect in the ftate,
Which fince his coming forth is thought of, which
Imports the kingdom fo much fear and danger,
That his return was most requir'd and neceffary.
Kent. Who hath he left behind him General ?
Gent. The Marefchal of France, Monfieur le Far.
Kent. Did your letters pierce the Queen to any de-
monftration of grief?

Gent. Ay, Sir, fhe took 'em, read 'em in my presence; And now and then an ample tear trill'd down

Her delicate cheek: it feem'd, she was a Queen
Over her paffion, which, moft rebel-like,

Sought to be King o'er her.

Kent. O, then it mov'd her.

Gent. But not to rage.

Patience and forrow ftrove

Which fhould exprefs her goodlieft; you have seen
Sun-fhine and rain at once :-her fmiles and tears (44)

Were

(44)ber fmiles and tears Were like a better day.] Mr. Pope, who thought fit to restore this scene from the old 4to, tacitly funk this paffage upon us, because he did not understand it. Indeed, it is corrupt; and he might have done himself fome honour in attempting the cure; but rhyme and criticism, he has convinc'd us, do not always center in the fame perfon. My friend Mr. Warburton with very happy fagacity ftruck out the emendation, which I have inferted in the text. And in confir

mation of it I muft obferve, that it is very familiar with our poet, in the defcription of perfons, to allude to the feasons of the year. To give a few inftances; Much Ado about Nothing.

Defpight his nice fence and his active practice,
His May of youth and bloom of luftihood.

Rich. 2d.

My Queen to France, from whence, fet forth in pomp,
She came adorned hither like fweet May;

Sent back, like Hallowmas, or fhorteft day,

Were like a wetter May. Thofe happiest smiles,
That play'd on her ripe lip, feem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence,
As pearls from diamonds dropt.-—————In brief,
Sorrow would be a rarity moit belov'd,

If all could fo become it.

Kent. Made the no verbal queftion?

Gent. Yes, once, or twice, the heav'd the name of Father Pantingly forth, as if it preft her heart.

Cry'd, fifters! fifters !-Shame of Ladies! fifters !
Kent! Father! fifters! what? i' th' ftorm? i' th' night?
Let pity ne'er believe it!-there she shook

The holy water from her heavenly eyes;

And, clamour-motion'd, then away fhe ftarted (45)
To deal with grief alone.

Kent. It is the stars,

The ftars above us, govern our conditions:
Elfe one felf-mate and mate could not beget
Such diff'rent iffues. Spoke you with her fince?
Gent. No.

Kent. Was this before the King return'd

Timon of Athens;

She whom the fpittle-houfe and ulc'rous fores
Would caft the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To th' April day again.

Hamlet;

-O rofe of May!

Dear maid! kind fifter! &c.

(45) And clamour-moiften'd,] This paffage, again, Mr. Pope funk upon us; and for the fame reafon, I fuppofe. Mr. Warburton dif cover'd likewife, that this was corrupt: for tho' clamour (as he obferves) may diftort the mouth, it is not wont to moiften the eyes. But clamour-motioned conveys a very beautiful idea of grief in Cordelia, and exactly in character. She bore her grief hitherto, fays the relater, in filence; but being no longer able to contain it, and wanting to vent it in groans and cries, fhe flies away and retires to her clofet to deal with it in private. This he finely calls, clamour-motion'd; or provok'd to a loud expreffion of her forrow, which drives her from company !-It is not impoffible, but Shakespeare might have form'd this fine picture of Cordelia's agony from holy writ, in the conduct of Jofeph; who, being no longer able to reftrain the vehemence of his affection, commanded all his retinue from his prefence; and then wept aloud, and discover'd himself to his brethren,

Gent.

Gent. No, fince.

Kent. Well, Sir; the poor diftreffed Lear's in town; Who fometimes, in his better tune, remembers

What we are come about; and by no means
Will yield to fee his daughter.

Gent. Why, good Sir?

Kent. A fov'reign fhame fo bows him; his unkindnefs, That ftript her from his benediction, turn'd her

To foreign cafualties, gave her dear rights

To his dog-hearted daughters; Thefe things fting him
So venomously, that burning fhame detains him.
From his Cordelia.

Gent. Alack, poor gentleman!

Kent. Of Albany's, and Cornwall's pow'rs you heard Gent. 'Tis fo, they are a-foot.

[not ? Kent. Well, Sir, I'll bring you to our mafter Lear,. And leave you to attend him. Some dear caufe Will in concealment rap me up awhile:

When I am known aright, you fhall not grieve Lending me this acquaintance. Pray, along with me.

Cor.

A

SCENE, a Camp.

Enter Cordelia, Phyfician, and Soldiers.

[Exeunt

Lack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now As mad as the vext fea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiterr, and furrow-weeds, (46)

With

(46) Crown'd with rank fenitar ;] There is no fuch herb, or weed, that I can find, of English growth; tho' all the copies agree in the corruption. I dare fay, I have reftor'd its right name; and we meet with it again in our author's Henry V. and partly in the fame company as we have it here;

-her fallow leas

The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory

Do root upon.

For this weed is call'd both fumitory and fumiterr, nearer to the French derivation fume-terre; which the Latin fhopmen term fumaria. It is the fame, which by Pliny (from Diofcorides and the other Greek phyficians) is named waves: because the juice of it has the effect,

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