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And these same croffes fpoil me.

Who are you?

Mine eyes are none o'th' beft.- I'll tell you ftrait.
Kent. If fortune brag of two fhe lov'd and hated,
One of them we behold.

Lear. Are you not Kent ?

Kent. The fame; your fervant Kent ; Where is your fervant Caius ?

Lear. 'Twas a good fellow, I can tell you that, (62) He'd ftrike, and quickly too :-he's dead and rotten. Kent. No, my good lord, I am the very man,

Lear. I'll fee that ftrait.

Kent. That, from your firft of difference and decay, Have follow'd your fad fteps

Lear. You're welcome hither.

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Kent. Nor no man elfe; all's cheerlefs, dark, and Your eldest daughters have fore-done themselves,

And defp'rately are dead.

Lear. Ay, fo I think.

Alb. He knows not what he fays; and vain is it, That we prefent us to him.

Edg. Very bootlefs.

Enter a Meffenger.

Mef. Edmund is dead, my lord.

Alb. That's but a trifle.

You lords and noble friends, know our intent;
What Comfort to this great Decay may come,
Shall be apply'd. For us, we will refign,
During the life of this old Majefty,

To him our abfolute Power: to you, your Rights,

[To Edgar.

With boot, and fuch addition as your honours
Have more than merited. All friends fhall tafte
The wages of their virtue, and all foes

The cup of their defervings: O fee, fee

(62) He's a good Fellow, I can tell you that,

He'll ftrike and quickly too: he's dead and rotten.] We have feen Lear mad; but, never, a ftark Fool till this Moment; to tell us, that a dead and rotten Man will ftrike quickly. But it was a Stupidity of the Editors, and not chargeable on the Poet.

Lear.

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? thou'lt come no more,

Never, never, never, never,

never

Do you

Pray you, undo this button. fee this? look on her, Look there, look there

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(63) Do you fee this? Look on her, look on her Lips;

Look there, look there. ] Our Poet has taken the Liberty in the Catastrophe of this Play to depart from the Chronicles; in which Lear is faid to be reinftated in his Throne by Cordelia, and to have reign'd upwards of two Years after his Restoration. He might have done This for two Reasons. Either, to heighten the Compaffion towards the poor old King or to vary from another, but most execrable, Dramatic Performance upon this Story which I certainly believe to have preceded our Author's Piece, and which none of our Stage-Hiftorians appear to have had any Knowledge of. The Edition, which I have of it, bears this Title. The true Chronicle Hiftory of King LEIR,' and his three Daughters, Gonorill, Ragan, and Cordella. As it hath bene divers and fundry times lately acted. London; Printed by Simon Stafford for John Wright, and are to be fold at his Shop at Chriftes Church dore next Newgate Market. 1605. That Shakespeare, however, may ftand acquitted from the leaft Sufpicion of Plagiarifm, in the Opinion of his Readers, I'll fubjoin a small Taste of this other anonymous Author's Abilities both in Conduct and Diction. Leir, with one Perillus his Friend, embarks for France to try what Reception he fhould find from his Daughter Cordella. When they come afhore, neither of them has a Rag of Money: and they are forc'd to give their Cloaks to the Mariners to pay for their Paffage. This, no doubt, our Playwright intended for a Mastery in Distress: as he must think it a notable Fetch of Invention to bring the King and Queen of France difguis'd like Rufticks, travelling a long way on Foot into the Woods, with a Basket of Provisions, only that they may have the casual Opportunity of relieving Leir and Perillus from being ftarv'd. Now for little Specimen of Style, and Dignity of Thinking. Cordella, now Queen of France, and in her own Palace, comes in and makes this pathe⇒ tick Soliloquy.

I have been over negligent to day
In going to the Temple of my God,
To render thanks for all his Benefits,
Which he miraculously bath beftow'd on me;
In raifing me out of my mean eftate,
Whenas I was devoyd of worldly Friends;
And placing me in fuch a fweet Content,
As far exceeds the Reach of my Deferts.
My kingly Husband, myrrour of his Time,

For

Edg. He faints; my lord,

Kent. Break heart, I pr'ythee, break!

Edg. Look up, my lord.

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Kent. Vex not his ghoft: O, let him pafs! He hates him, That would upon the rack of this rough world

Stretch him out longer.

Edg. He is gone, indeed.

Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd fo long:
He but ufurpt his life.

For Zeal, for Juftice, Kindness, and for Care,
To God, his Subjects, Me, and Common weale,
By his Appointment was ordayn'd for me.
I cannot wish the Thing that I do want ;

I cannot want the Thing, but I

may have;
Save only This which I fhall ne're obtayne,
My Father's Love; Oh, This I ne're shall gayne.
I would abftayne from any nutryment,
And pyne my body to the very bones:
Barefoote I would on pilgrimage fet forth,
Unto the furtheft Quarters of the Earth,
And all my Life time would I fackcloth weare,
And mourning-wife powre duft upon my head:
So he but to forgive me once would please,
That his gray haires might go to heaven in Peace.
And yet I know not how I him offended,
Or wherein justly I've deferved Blame.
Oh Sifters! You are much to blame in This ;
It was not He, but You, that did me Wrong.
Yet, God forgive both Him, and You, and Me,
Ev'n as I do in perfect Charity.

I will to Church, and pray unto my Saviour,
That, ere I dye, I may obtayne bis Favour.

[Exit.

This is, furely, fuch Poetry as one might hammer out, Stans pede in uno ; or, as our Author fays, "it is the right Butter-Woman's Rank to Mar"ket and a Man might verfify you fo eight years together, dinners,

and fuppers, and fleeping hours excepted.". Again, Shakespeare was too well vers'd in Holingshead not to know, that King Lear reign'd above 800 years before the Period of Christianity. The Gods his King talks of are Jupiter, Juno, Apollo; and not any Deities more modern than his own Time. Licentious as he was in Anachronisms, he would have judg'd it an unpardonable Abfurdity to have made a Briton of Cordella's time talk of her Saviour. And, his not being trapt into fuch ridiculous Slips of Ignorance, feems a plain Proof to me that he ftole neither from his Predeceffors, nor Contemporaries of the English Theatre, both which abounded in them.

Alb.

Alb. Bear them from hence, our present business
Is general woe: friends of my foul, you twain
Rule in this Realm, and the gor'd State fuftain.

Kent. I have a journey, Sir, fhortly to go;
My mafter calls me; I must not fay, no.

Alb. The weight of this fad time we must obey, Speak what we feel, not what we ought to fay. The oldeft hath born moft; we, that are young, Shall never fee fo much, nor live fo long.

[Dies. (64)

[Exeunt with a dead March.

(64) Alb. The Weight of this fad Time, &c.] This Speech from the Authority of the Old 4to is. rightly plac'd to Albany: in the Edition by the Players it is given to Edgar, by whom, I doubt not, it was of Cuftom fpoken. And the Cafe was this: He who play'd Edgar, being a more favourite Actor, than he who perfonated Albany; in Spight of Decorum, it was thought proper he should have the last Word.

TIMON

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