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 most belov❜d,

If all could fo become it.

Kent. 4 Made the no verbal queftion?

Gent. Yes, once or twice fhe heav'd the name of father

Pantingly forth, as if it prefs'd her heart.

Cry'd, Sifters! fifters!-Shame of ladies! fifters! "Kent! father! fifters! What? i the ftorm? i' "the night?

"5 Let pity not be believed!"-There she shook The holy water from her heavenly eyes,

6 And clamour-moiften'd her; then away fhe started To deal with grief alone.

Kent.

The thought is taken from Sidney's Arcadia, p. 244. "Her "tears came dropping down like rain in funfhine." Cordelia's behaviour on this occafion is apparently copied from Philoclea's. The fame book, in another place, fays," that her tears "followed one another like a precious rope of pearl." The old copy reads,—a better way,—which is as unintelligible as the other. STEEVENS.

Made fhe no verbal question ?] Dr. Warburton would fubfitute queft, from the Latin queftus, i. e. complaint: because, fays he, what kind of queftion could fhe make but verbal ? STEEVENS,

I do not fee the impropriety of verbal question: fuch pleonafms are common. So we fay, my ears have heard, my eyes have bebeld. Befides, where is the word queft to be found? JOHNSON.

Made fhe no verbal question?] Means only, Did the enter into no converfation with you? In this fenfe our poet frequently ufes the word question, and not fimply as the act of interrogation. Did he give you to understand her meaning by words as well as by the foregoing external teftimonies of forrow? STEEV..

5 Let pity not be believ'd!] i. e. Let not fuch a thing as pity be fuppofed to exift! Thus the old copies; but the modern editors have hitherto read,

STEEVENS.

Let pity ne'er believe it!6 And clamour-moiften'a-] It is not impoffible but Shakefpeare might have formed this fine picture of Cordelia's agony

from

Kent.

It is the stars,

The stars above us, govern our conditions;

Elfe 7 one self-mate and mate could not beget
Such different iffues. You spoke not with her fince?
Gent. No.

Kent. Was this before the king return'd?

Gent. No, fince.

Kent. Well, Sir; the poor diftreffed Lear is i' the 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 fovereign fhame fo elbows him. His own unkindness,

That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her
To foreign cafualties, gave her dear rights

To his dog-hearted daughters-8 Thele things fting
His mind fo venomoufly, that burning fhame
Detains him from Cordelia.

Gent. Alack, poor gentleman!

Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers, you heard not?

Gent. 'Tis fo they are a-foot.

from holy writ, in the conduct of Jofeph; who, being no longer able to restrain the vehemence of his affection, commanded all his retinue from his prefence; and then wept aloud, and dif covered himself to his brethren. THEOBALD.

Clamour moiften'd her; that is, her out-cries were accompanied with tears. JOHNSON.

7

one felf-mate and mate] The fame hufband and the fame wife. JOHNSON.

8

Thefe things fling him

So venomously, that burning fhame] The metaphor is here preferved with great knowledge of nature. The venom of poifonous animals being a high cauftic falt, that has all the effect of fire upon the part. WARBURTON.

'Tis fo they are on foot.] Dr. Warburton thinks it neceffary to read, 'tis faid; but the fenfe is plain, So it is that they are on foot. JOHNSON.

Kent.

Kent. Well, Sir; I'll bring you to our master Lear, And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause Will in concealment wrap me up awhile:

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

[Exeunt.

A tent in the camp at Dover.

Enter Cordelia, Phyfician, and Soldiers.

Cor. Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now As mad as the vex'd fea: finging aloud;

Crown'd with rank fumiter, and furrow-weeds,
With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow

In our fuftaining corn. A century fend forth;
Search every acre in the high-grown field,

And bring him to our eye. What can man's wif dom do

In the reftoring his bereaved fenfe?

He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.
Phy. There is means, madam.

Our fofter nurse of nature is repofe,

The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,

Are many fimples operative, whofe power
Will clofe the eye of anguish.

Cor. All bleft fecrets,

All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,

With bardocks, hemlock, &c.] I do not remember any fuch plant as a bardock, but one of the most common weeds is a burdock, which I believe fhould be read here; and fo Hanmer reads. JOHNSON.

I do not recollect any author of the age of Shakespeare who ufes the word burdock. Shakespeare has this line in K. Henry V. "But hateful docks, rough thistles, keckfies, burrs." Which tempts me to believe he wrote on the prefent occasion, with burrs, docks, &c. STEEVENS.

Spring with my tears! be aidant, and remediate
In the good man's distress! Seek, feek for him;
Left his ungovern'd rage diffolve the life
That wants the means to lead it.

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. News, madam !—

The British powers are marching hitherward.
Cor. 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands
In expectation of them.-O dear father,
It is thy bufinefs that I go about;
Therefore great France

3

My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
+ No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right.
Soon may I hear, and fee him!

SCENE V.

Regan's palace.

Enter Regan and Steward.

[Exeunt.

Reg. But are my brother's powers fet forth?
Stew. Ay, madam.

Reg. Himself in person there?
Stew. Madam, with much ado;
Your fifter is the better foldier,

2

the means to lead it.] The reafon which should guide

it. JOHNSON.

3

important] In other places of this author for importunate. JOHNSON.

The folio reads, importuned. STEEVENS.

No blown ambition] No inflated, no fwelling pride. Beza on the Spanish Armada:

"Quam bene te ambitio merfit vaniffima, ventus,

Et tumidos tumide vos fuperaftis aquæ." JOHNS,

Reg

Reg. Lord Edmund fpake not with your lady at home?

Stew. No, madam.

Reg. What might import my fifter's letter to him? Stew. I know not, lady.

Reg. 'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. It was great ignorance, Glo'fter's eyes being out, To let him live; where he arrives, he moves All hearts aginft us. Edmund, I think, is gone, In pity of his mifery, to dispatch

His nighted life; moreover, to descry

The ftrength o' the enemy.

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

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

Stew. I may not, madam;

My lady charg'd my duty in this bufinefs.

Reg. Why thould the write to Edmund? Might not you

Tranfport her purposes by word? Belike,

Something-I know not what-I'll love thee much3 Let me unfeal the letter.

Stew. Madam, I had rather

Reg. I know your lady does not love her husband: I am fure of that; and, at her late being here, 4 She gave ftrange ceiliads, and moft fpeaking looks To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bofom.

I your lady-] The folio reads, your lord; but lady is the first and better reading. JOHNSON.

2 His nighted life ;—] i. e. His life made dark as night by the lofs of his eyes. STEEVENS.

3 Let me unfeal, &c.] I know not well why Shakespeare gives the fteward, who is a mere factor of wickedness, fo much fidelity. He now refufes the letter; and afterwards, when he is dying, thinks only how it may be fafely delivered. JOHNSON.

4 She gave frange ailiads,] Oeillade, Fr. A caft, or fignificant glance of the eye. STEEVENS.

Stew.