Imagens das páginas

Gon. No more ; 'tis foolish.

Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem 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, molt degenerate, have you madded.
Cou'd my good brother luffer you to do it,
A man, a Prince by him so benefited ?
If that the heav'ns do not their visible fpirits
Send quickly down to tame the vile offences,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep.

Gon. Milk-liver'd man !
That bear'ít a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs ;
Who haft not in thy brows an eye difcerning
Thine honour, from thy suffering: that not know'ft, (42)
Fools do these villains pity, who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land,
With plumed helm thy flayer begins his threats;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, fit'st still, and cry'ft,
" Alack! who does he so ?-

Alb. See thyself, devil :-
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid as in woman.

Gon. O vain fool !
Alb. Thou chang'd, and self-converted thing! For

shame, (43)
And Seneca in his Trojan Captives.

Quæ tenera cæfo virga de trunco ftetit,

Par ipfa matri--And more instances I might have produced from Rutgurfius, in his Variæ Lection. l. 4. c. 16.

(42) -that not know'ft, Fools do these villains pity,] This I have retriev'd from the first Quarto. It seems first to have been retrench'd by the players, for brevity's uke: but, besides that the lines are fine, they admirably display the taunting, termagant disposition of Gonerill, and paint out her contempt of her husband's mild pacifick spirit.

(43) Thou chang’d, and self-converted thing!] This reply of Albany to his imperious wife was likewise retrench'd į but ought not for the future to be loft to our author.. D 6.


Be-monster not thy feature, Were't my fitness
To let these hands obey my [boiling] blood,
They're apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones. Howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman's shape doth field thee.-
Gor. Marry, your manhood now !.

Enter Messenger.
Mes. Oh, my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead;
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The other eye of Gloster.

Alb. Glo'ster's eyes !

Mej. A fervant, that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Oppog'd again it the act; bending his sword

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

Alb. This shews you are above,
You Justices, that these our nether crimes
So speedily 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'ster with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life.
The news is not fo tart. I'll read, and answer. (Exit.

Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?
Mel. Come with my Lady hither.
Alb. He's not here.
Mes. No, my good Lord, I met him back again.
Alb, Knows he the wickedness ?

Mes. Ay, my good Lord, 'twas he inform'd against him, And quit the house of purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course.

Alb. Glofter, I live
To thank thee for the love thou fhew'it the King,


Another way,

And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend,
Tell me, what more thou know it.


SCENE, Dover.

Enter Kent, and a Gentleman.
Kent. THE King of France fo suddenly gone back!

Know you the reason ?
Gent. Something he left imperfect in the state,
Which fince his coming forth is thought of, which
Imports the kingdom so much fear and danger,
That his return was most requir'd and neceffary.

Kent. Who hath he left behind him General?
Gent. The Mareschal of France, Monsieur le Far.

Kent. Did your letters pierce the Qdeen to any demonftration of grief?

Gent. Ay, Sir, she took 'em, read 'em in my presence;
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek : it seem'd, she was a Queen
Over her passion, which, most rebel-like,
Sought to be King o'er her.

Kent. O, then it mov'd her.-
Gent. But not to rage.

Patience and forrow strove
Which should exprefs her goodliest ; you have seen
Sun-fhine and rain at once :--her smiles and tears (44)

Were (44) - -ber smiles and tears Were like a better day.) Mr. Pope, who thought fit to restore this scene from the old 4to, tacitly sunk this passage upon us, becaufe he did not understand it. Indeed, it is corrupt; and he might have done himself some honour in attempting the cure ; but rhyme and criticism, he has convinc'd us, do not always center in the same person. My friend Mr. Warkurton with very happy fagacity struck out the emendation, which I have inserted in the text. And in confirmation of it I must observe, that it is very familiar with our poet, in the description of persons, to allude to the seasons of the year. To give a few instances ; Much Ado about Nothing.

Despight his nice fence and his active practice,

His May of youth and bloom of luftihond.
Rich, zd.

My Queen to France, from whence, set forth in pomp,
She came adorned hither like sweet May ;
Sent back, like Hallowmas, or forteft day,

Were like a wetter May. Those happiest smiles,
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'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 so become it.

Kent. Made the no verbal question ?

Gent. Yes, once, or twice, she heav'd the name of Father
Pantingly forth, as if it preft her heart.
Cry’d, sisters ! fifters !-Shame of Ladies ! sisters !
Kent! Father ! sisters ! what ? i'th'storm ? 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 she started (45)
To deal with grief alone.

Kent. It is the stars,
The stars above us, govern our conditions :
Else one self-mate and mate could not beget
Such diff'rent issues. Spoke you with her fince ?

Gent. No.

Kent. Was this before the King return'd?
Timon of Athens ;

She whom the spittle-house and ulc'rous fores
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices

To th' April day again,
Hamlet ;

- rose of May ! Dear maid ! kind fifter ! &c. (45) And clamour-moisten’d,] This passage, again, Mr. Pope funk upon us; and for the same reason, I suppose. Mr. Warburton dilcover'd likewise, ihat this was corrupt: for tho' clamour (as he obTerves) may diftort the mouth, it is not wont to moisten the eyes. But clamour-motioned conveys a very beautiful idea of grief in Cordeliz, and exactly in character. She bore her grief hitherto, says the relater, in silence ; but being no longer able to contain it, and wanting to vent it in groans and cries, the flies away and retires to her closet to deal with it in private. This he finely calls, clamour-motie on'd; or provok'd to a loud expression of her sorrow, which drives her from company !- It is not impoflible, but Shakespeare might have form'd this fine picture of Cordelja's agony from holy writ, in the conduct of Joseph; who, being no longer able to restrain the vehe. mence of his affection, commanded all his retinue from his presence ; and then wept aloud, and discover’d himself to his brethren,


Gent, No, fince.

Kent. Well, Sir; the poor distressed Lear's in town; Who fometimes, in his better tune, remembers What we are come about; and by no means Will yield to see his daughter.

Gent. Why, good Sir ?

Kent. A sov'reign thame so bows him ; his unkindness,
That stript her from his benedi&tion, turn'd her
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
To his dog-hearted daughters ; These things sting him,
So venomously, that burning shame 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.

Kent. Well, Sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,,
And leave you ta attend him. Some dear cause
Will in concealment trap me up awhile :
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve:
Lending me this acquaintance. Pray, along with me.


SC EN E, a Camp.


Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers. Cor.

As mad as the vext fea; singing aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiterr, and furrow-weeds, (46)

With • (46) Crown'd with rankfenitar;] There is no such herb, or weed, that I can find, of English growth; tho' all the copies agree in the corruption. I dare say, 'I have restor’d its right name ; and we meet with it again in our author's Henry V. and partly in the same company as we have it here;

her fallow leas The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory. For this weed is call'd both fumitory and funiterr, nearer to the French derivation fume-terre; which the Latin lopmen term fumaria. It is the same, which by Pliny (from Dioscorides and the other Greek physcians) is named nativès ; because the juice of it has the effect,


Do root upen:

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