Edg.

[Exit. Alb. Why, fare thee well; I will o'erlook thy paper. Re-enter ЕDmund.

Take them away.

Edm. The enemy's in view, draw up your powers. Here is the guess of their true strength and forces By diligent discovery ;-but your haste Is now urg'd on you.

Alb.

We will greet the time. [Exit. Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn my love; Each jealous of the other, as the stung

Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?
Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd,
If both remain alive: To take the widow,
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;
And hardly shall I carry out my side,
Her husband being alive. Now then, we'll use
His countenance for the battle; which being done,
Let her, who would be rid of him, devise
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy
Which he intends to Lear, and to Cordelia,-
The battle done, and they within our power,
Shall never see his pardon for my state
Stands on me to defend, not to debate.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The British Camp near Dover. Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, EDMUND; LEAR and CORDELIA, as prisoners; Officers, Soldiers, &c.

Edm. Some officers take them away: good guard; Until their greater pleasures first be known That are to censure them. Cor. We are not the first, Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst. For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down; Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown.— Shall we not see these daughters, and these sisters? Lear. No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds i'the cage: When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness: So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too,Who loses, and who wins; who's in, who's out :— And take upon us the mystery of things, As if we were God's spies: And we'll wear out, In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones,

Edm. Come hither, captain; hark. [to prison; Take thou this note; [giving a paper.] go, follow them One step I have advanc'd thee: if thou dost As this intructs thee, thou dost make thy way To noble fortunes: Know thou this,-that men Are as the time is: to be tender-minded Does not become a sword :-Thy great employment Will not bear question ;-either say, thou'lt do't, Or thrive by other means.

Off. I'll do't, my lord. Edm. About it; and write happy, when thou hast Mark,-I say, instantly; and carry it so, [done. As I have set it down.

Off. I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats; If it be man's work, I will do it. [Exit Officer Flourish. Enter ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, Officers, and Attendants.

Alb. Sir, you have shewn to-day your valiant strain Who were the opposites of this day's strife: And fortune led you well: You have the captives We do require them of you; so to use them, As we shall find their merits and our safety May equally determine.

Edm.

Sir, I thought it fit

To send the old and miserable king
To some retention and appointed guard;
Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,
To pluck the common bosom on his side,
And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes
Which do command them. With him I sent the queen
My reason all the same; and they are ready
To-morrow, or at further space, to appear
Where you shall hold your session. At this time
We sweat, and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend,
And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd
By those that feel their sharpness:———
The question of Cordelia, and her father,
Requires a fitter place.

Alb.

Sir, by your patience,
I hold you but a subject of this war,
Not as a brother.

Reg.
That's as we list to grace him.
Methinks, our pleasure might have been demanded,
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers;
Bore the commission of my place and person;
The which immediacy may well stand up,
And call itself your brother.

Gon.

In my rights,

Not so hot: In his own grace he doth exalt himself, More than in your advancement. Reg. By me invested, he compeers the best. Gon. That were the most, if he should husband you. Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets.

Gon. Holla, hella! That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint. Reg. Lady, I am not well; else I should answer From a full-flowing stomach.-General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine : Witness the world, that I create thee here My lord and master.

Gon.

Mean you to enjoy him?
Al The lot-alone lies not in your good will.
Edm. Nor in thine, lord.
Alb.

Half-blooded fellow, yes. Reg. Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. [To EDMUND. Alb. Stay yet; hear reason:- Edmund, I arrest On capital treason; and, in thy arrest, [thee This gilded serpent: [Pointing to Gow.] - for your claim, fair sister,

I bar it in the interest of my wife;
"Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord,
And I, her husband, contradict your bans.
If you will marry, make your love to me,
My lady is bespoke.

Gon.

An interlude!

Reg.

My oath, and my profession; I protest,-
Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
Despite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune,
Thy valour, and thy heart,—thou art a traitor :
False to the gods, thy brother, and thy father ·
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prace
And, from the extremest upward of thy head.
To the descent and dust beneath thy feet,
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, No,
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bey ́
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,

Thou liest.

Edm.

In wisdom, I should ask thy nam But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, And that thy tongue some 'say of breeding breathe What safe and nicely I might well delay By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn Back do I toss these treasons to thy head; With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart; Which, (for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,) This sword of mine sball give them instant way, Where they shall rest for ever.-Trumpets, speak. [Alarums. They fight. EDMUND felle. Alb. O save him, save him! Gon. This is mere practice, Glester. By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd, But cozen'd and beguil'd.

Alb.

Shut your mouth, dame, Or with this paper shall I stop it:-Hold, sir :Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil :No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it.

[Gives the letter to EDMUND. Gon. Say, if I do: the laws are mine, not thine : Who shall arraign me for't? Alb. Most monstrous!

Gon. Ask me not what I know. [Exit GoNERIL.
Alb. Go after her; she's desperate; govern her.
[To an Officer, who goes out.
Edm. What you have charg'd me with, that have
I done;

And more, much more: the time will bring it out;
'Tis past, and so am I : But what art thou,
That hast this fortune on me? If thou art noble,
I do forgive thee.

Edg.

Let's exchange charity.

I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me.
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to scourge us :
The dark and vicious place where thee he got,
Cost him his eyes.

Edm.
Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true;
The wheel is come full circle; I am here.
Alb. Methought thy very gait did prophesy
A royal nobleness: I must embrace thee;
Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I
Did hate thee, or thy father!
Edg.
I know it well.
Alb.

Worthy prince,

Where have you hid yourself? How have you known the miseries of your father? Edg. By nursing them, my lord.— List a brief tale ;

And, when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst '—-
The bloody proclamation to escape,
That follow'd me so near, (O our lives' sweetness
That with the pain of death we'd hourly die.
Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift
Into a mad-man's rags; to assume a semblance

That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair;
Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him,
Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd,
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success,
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage: But his flaw'd heart,
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support!)
Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.

Edm.

This speech of yours hath mov'd me, And snall, perchance, do good: but speak you on; You look as you had something more to say.

Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in ;
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this.

Edg.

This would have seem'd a period
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too-much, would make much more,
And top extremity.

Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man,
Who having seen me in my worst estate,

Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding
Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms
He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out
As he'd burst heaven; threw him on my father:
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him,
That ever ear receiv'd: which in recounting
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack: Twice then the trumpet sounded,
And there I left him tranc'd.
Alb.
Edg. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise
Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service
Improper for a slave.

But who was this?

Enter a Gentleman hastily, with a bloody knife.
Gent. Help! help! O help!
Edg.

Alb.

What kind of help? Speak, man. Edg. What means that bloody knife? Gent. "Tis hot, it smokes ; It came even from the heart ofAlb. Who, man? speak. Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady and her sister By her is poison'd; she confesses it.

Edm. I was contracted to them both; all three Now marry in an instant.

Alb. Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead!This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble, Touches us not with pity. [Exit Gentleman.

Run, run, O, run

Edg. To who, my lord?-Who has the office? send Thy token of reprieve.

Edm. Well thought on; take my sword, Give it the captain.

Alb. Haste thee, for thy life. [Exit EDGAR. Edm. He hath commission from thy wife and me To hang Cordelia in the prison, and

To lay the blame upon her own despair,
That she fordid herself.

Alb. The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile.
[EDMUND is borne off
Enter LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms;
EDGAR, Officer, and others.

Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl!-O, you are men of stones;

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so
That heaven's vault should crack :-O, she is gone

for ever!

I know when one is dead, and when one lives,
She's dead as earth :-Lend me a looking-glass;
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives.
Kent.

Is this the promis'd end?
Edg. Or image of that horror?
Alb.

Fall, and cease!
Lear. This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so,
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows
That ever I have felt.

Kent.

O my good master! [Kneeling.
Lear. Pr'ythee, away.
Edg.
'Tis noble Kent, your friend.
Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all!
I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for ever!-
Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha!

What is't thou say'st?-Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low: an excellent thing in woman—
I kill'd the slave that was a hanging thee.
Off. 'Tis true, my lords, he did.
Lear.
Did I not, fellow ?
I have seen the day, with my good biting faulchion
I would have made them skip: I am old now,
And these same crosses spoil me.-Who are you?
Mine eyes are none o'the best:-I'll tell you straight.
Kent. If fortune brag of two she lov❜d and hated,
One of them we behold.

Lear. This is a dull sight: Are you not Kent?
Kent.
The sama

Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?
Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that;
He'll strike, and quickly too: He's dead and rotten
Kent. No, my good lord; I am the very man ;-
Lear. I'll see that straight.

Kent. That, from your first of difference and decay Have follow'd your sad steps.

Lear. You are welcome hither.

[deadly.

What comfort to this great decay may come,
Shall be applied: For us, we will resign,
During the life of this old majesty,
To him our absolute power:-You, to your rights;
[To EDGAR and KENT.
With boot, and such addition as your honours
Have more than merited.-All friends shall taste
The wages of their virtue, and all foes
The cup of their deservings.—O), see, see!

Lear. And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life:
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,
And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no more.
Never, never, never, never, never!-
Pray you, undo this button: Thank you, sir.-
Do you see this? Look on her,-look,-her lips,-
Look there, look there!—
[He dies.
Edg.
He faints! My lord, my lord,
Kent. Break, heart; I pr'ythee, break!

THE tragedy of Lear is deservedly celebrated among the dramas of Shakspeare. There is perhaps no play which keeps the attention so strongly fixed; which so much agitates our passions, and interests our curiosity. The artful involutions of distinct interests, the striking oppositions of contrary characters, the sudden changes of fortune, and the quick succession of events, All the mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, and hope. There is no scene which does not contribute to the aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action, and scarce a fine which does not conduce to the progress of the scene. So powerful is the current of the poet's imagination, that the mind which once ventures within it, is hurried irresistibly along. On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct, it may be observed, that he is represented according to histories at that time vulgarly received as true. And, perhaps, if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity, and ignorance of the age to which this story is referred, it will appear not so unlikely as while we estimate Lear's manners by our own. Such preference of one daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on such conditions, would be yet credible, if told of a petty prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakspeare, indeed, by the mention of his earls and dukes, has given us the idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated by softer manners; and the truth is, that though be so nicely discriminates, and so minutely describes the characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds the characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient and modern, English and foreign.

My learned friend, Mr. Warton, (afterwards Dr. Joseph Warton, who has in The Adventurer very minutely criticised this play, remarks, that the instances of cruelty are too savage and shocking, and that the intervention of Edmund destroys the simplicity of the story. These objections may, I think, be answered, by repeating, that the cruelty of the daughters is an historical fact, to which the poet has added little, having only drawn it into a series of dialogue and action. But I am not able to apologise with equal plausibility for the extrusion of Gloster's eyes, which seems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatic exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind to relieve its distresses by incredulity. Yet let it be remembered that our author well knew what would please the audience for which he wrote. The injury done by Edmund to the simplicity of the action is abundantly recompensed by the addition of variety, by the art with which he is made to co-operate with the chief design, and the opportunity which he gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the wicked son with the wicked daughters, to impress this important moral that villany is never at a stop, that erimes lead to crimes, and at last terminate in ruin. But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakspeare

Edg.

Look up, my lord.

Kent. Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates That would upon the rack of this tough world [him, Stretch him out longer. Edg.

O, he is gone, indeed. Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long: He but usurp'd his life.

Alb. Bear them from hence.--Our present business Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you twain [To KENT and EDGAR.

Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain.
Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;
My master calls, and I must not say, no.
Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest hath borne most: we, that are young,
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

[Exeunt, with a dead march.

has suffered the virtue of Cordelia to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and, what is yet more strange, to the faith of chronicles. Yet this conduct is justified by The Spectator, who blames Tate for giving Cordelia success and happiness in his alteration, and declares, that in his opinion, the Tragedy has lost half its beauty. Dennis has remarked, whether justly or not, that, to secure the favourable reception of Cato, the town was poisoned with much false and abominable criticism, and that endeavours had been used to discredit and decry poetical justice. A play in which the wicked prosper, and the virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good, because it is a just representation of the common events of human life; but since all reasonable beings naturally love justice, I cannot easily be persuaded, that the observation of justice makes a play worse; or, that if other excellencies are equal, the audience will not always rise better pleased from the final triumph of persecuted virtue.

In the present case the public has decided. Cordelia, from the time of fate, has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add any thing to the general suffrage, I might relate, I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an editor.

There is another controversy among the critics concerning this play. It is disputed whether the predominant image in Lear's disordered mind be the loss of his kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy, a very judicious critic, has evinced by induction of particular passages, that the cru elty of his daughters is the primary source of his distress, and that the loss of royalty affects him only as a secondary and subordinate evil. He observes, with great justness, that Lear would move our compassion but little, did we not rather con sider the injured father than the degraded king.

The story of this play, except the episode of Edmund, which is derived, I think, from Sidney, is taken originally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom Holinshed generally copied; but perhaps immediately from an old historical ballad. My reason for believing that the play was posterior to the ballad, rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the ballad has nothing of Shakspeare's nocturnal tempest, which is too striking to have been omitted, and that it follows the chronicle; it has the rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifications: it first hinted Lear's madness, but did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the ballad added something to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more, if more had occurred to his mind, and more must have occurred if he had seen Shak speare.-JOHNSON.

Or this play there were four quarto editions published during the life of the author; the first of which was published in 1597. The original author of the story was Luigi da Porto, a gentleman of Vicenza, who died in 1529. His novel did not appear till some years after his death, being first printed at Venice in 1535, under the title of La Giulietta.

The story had been dramatized in this country, before 1562, for in that year Arthur Brooke published his poem, called The Tragical Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, and in his advertisement to the reader says, that he had seen" the same argument

Two households, both alike in dignity,

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows

Do, with their death, bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

ACT I.

SCENE I-A public Place.

Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, armed with swords and bucklers.

Sam. Gregory, o'my word, we'll not carry coals. Gre. No, for then we should be colliers.

lately set forth on the stage with more commendation than I can look for. To this obsolete play, and Brooke's poem, Shakspeare was most probably indebted for those rude materials which he has rendered so valuable by his exquisite skill management in the tragedy before us.

Breval says in the Travels, that on a strict inquiry into the histories of Verona, he found that Shakspeare had varied very little from the truth, either in the names, characters, or other circumstances. Malone supposes this play to have been writ

ten in 1596.

Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of the collar.

Sam. I strike quickly, being moved.

Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. Gre. To move is to stir; and to be valiant, is— to stand to it: therefore, if thou art mov'd, thou run'st away.

Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Gre. That shews thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall.

Sam. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall :-therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall.

Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their men.

Sam. "Tis all one, I will shew myself a tyrant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads.

Gre. The heads of the maids?

Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maiden heads; take it in what sense thou wilt.

Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand: and 'tis kwn I am a pretty piece of flesh.

Gre. "Is well, thou art not fish; if thou hadst. thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool; her comes two of the house of the Montagues.

Enter ABRAM and BALTHASAR.

Sam. My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will back thee.

Gre. How? turn thy back, and run?

Sam. Fear me not.

Gre. No, marry: I fear thee!

Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let cham begin.

Gre. I will frown, as I pass by; and let them take it as they list.

Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb a
them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.
Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. I do bite my thump, sir.

Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say-ay?
Gre. No.

Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir ; but I bite my thumb, sir.

Gre. Do you quarrel, sir?

Abr. Quarrel, sir? no, sir.

Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you; I serve as good

a man as you.

Abr. No better.

Sam, Well, sir.