but even here it is plain that Leir does not contemplate absolute resignation, nor is the idea of it brought out in any of the accounts. But Leir, at the opening of the old play (p. 380), thus addresses his nobles:

The world of me, I of the world am weary,
And I would faine resigne these earthly cares,
And think upon the welfare of my soule.

And later (p. 389) he says:

I presently will dispossesse myselfe,

And set up these upon my princely throne.

Compare with these two passages King Lear, I. i. 38–41:

and 'tis our fast intent

To shake all cares and business from our age,

Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburden'd crawl toward death.

I have said (p. xxix) that Spenser's account may have suggested to Shakespeare Lear's division of his kingdom into equal shares; but the old play may possibly have helped him to this idea, for at the beginning of it (p. 380) Leir says that he will resign his crown

In equal dowry to my daughters three.

Here Skaliger, a courtier, breaks in, and suggests that Leir, knowing his princely daughters have several suitors, should

make them each a jointer (jointure) more or less As is their worth to them that love profess.

But Leir declines to do as suggested, saying:

Both old and young shall have alike for me.

The nobles then request Leir to match his daughters with some of the "neighbour kings." Leir assents, but remarks:

My youngest daughter, fair Cordella, vows
No liking to a monarch, unless love allowes.

And Perillus, a nobleman, the original of Shakespeare's Kent, exclaiming (p. 381), "Do not force love," Leir says:

I am resolved, and even now my mind
Doth meditate a sudden stratagem,

To try which of my daughters loves me best,
Which till I know I cannot be at rest.

This granted, when they jointly shall contend
Each to exceed the other in their love,
Then at the vantage will I take Cordella,
Even as she doth protest she loves me best.
I'll say then, Daughter, grant me one request:
To shew thou lovest me as thy sisters do,

Accept a husband whom myself will woo."

Leir's intention, when he had thus entrapped his daughter, was to "match her with a king of Brittany." I think that the careful reader will not fail to see, though Shakespeare does not suggest this as Leir's reason for his questioning his daughters, that not only had he carefully read it, but that it influenced his mind.

Again, let us remember that in all the previous accounts of the story the French monarch, Aganippus, hearing of the beauty and good qualities of Cordella, sends to her father asking her in marriage, and that Leir sends her dowerless to France; the old play alone before Shakespeare brings the French king to Britain, see p. 389, where he says:

Disswade me not, my lords, I am resolv'd
This next fair winde to sail for Brittany

In some disguise, to see if flying fame

Be not too prodigal in the wondrous praise

Of these three nymphes, the daughters of King Leir.

Is it not nearly certain that Shakespeare followed this source when he brings the King of France to Lear's Court, where "long had he made his amorous sojourn," a suitor for the hand of the king's youngest daughter? Again, Perillus, as has several times been pointed out, is evidently the original, if only the pale original, of “the noble and true-hearted Kent" of King Lear. In none of the older accounts is there any trace of such a character. Leir goes to France, accompanied with one knight or soldier (in one case with two attendants, a knight and a soldier who had formerly been his standard-bearer). Perillus, in the old play, laments over Leir's conduct towards Cordella (see p. 389):

O how I grieve to see my lord thus fond,
To dote so much upon vain flattering words.

And later, like Kent, he pleads for her with Leir (pp. 396, 397):

I have bin silent all this while, my lord,

To see if any worthier than myself

Would once have spoke in poor Cordellae's cause..

O heare me speak for her, my gracious lord,

Whose deeds have not deserved this ruthless doom.

And to this Leir hastily replies:

Urge this no more, and if thou love thy life.

Observe the closely parallel reply of King Lear in Shakespeare to Kent's similar plea (I. i. 154):

Soon after Perillus laments over Leir's evil case when his daughters begin to treat him cruelly, calling him "the myrour of mild patience" (p. 403), an expression resembling King Lear's words, "I will be the pattern of all patience" (III. ii. 37), and says later (p. 403):

Well, I will counsel him the best I can.
Would I were able to redress his wrong;
Yet what I can, unto my utmost power,

He shall be sure of to the latest hour.

And later still (p. 406), he joins his master in disguise as Kent joins Lear, and on Leir asking,

What man art thou that takest any pity
Upon the worthless state of old [King] Leir,

Perillus replies,

One that doth bear as great a share of grief
As if it were my dearest father's case.

Though there is little or no resemblance between the mild Perillus and fiery Kent, yet they have this in common, each follows his master's "sad steps" "from their first of difference and decay" to the end. Again, in the unscrupulous "Messenger" of the old play we doubtless have the origin of Oswald; with little otherwise in common, one is as ready as the other to carry out the base and criminal orders of their respective mistresses.

Now, though we have thus seen that this old play unquestionably furnished our poet with some important details, and it may indeed, as Malone darkly hints, have suggested to his mind the idea of dramatising the subject, and though it is not without merit, having some very pathetic scenes, notably one describing the meeting in

France between Cordella and her father, which the writer of "Hohenlinden " and "The Battle of the Baltic" could not read with dry eyes, we must not forget what a gulf there is between it and Shakespeare's marvellous presentation. Nowhere, I think, has he or any other hand given to the world a work more deeply and truly pathetic. With that key so peculiarly his own, he has here fairly unlocked the gates of pity and terror; and that out of apparently such unpromising materials he should have created such a matchlessly wondrous and perfect result, must indeed be regarded as one of the greatest miracles in all art. We must never, indeed, forget that whatever hints he may have taken as to the rude plan of his work from this or any other quarter, of the real King Lear there is but one source or fountainhead from which he drew, and that is the depths of his own ever-prolific imagination.

The story of King Lear and his three daughters is a very old one, probably of Celtic origin; Welsh, and possibly having a still more more ancient Irish original. Professor Rhys thus writes to me: "Although I know no trace of the story of King Lear in Welsh literature, I see no reason whatever for supposing that Geoffrey invented it, but I think rather that he found it in a Celtic story." Since I received the above from Professor Rhys, he has kindly referred me to his Celtic Folk-Lore (Clarendon Press (1901), p. 547), where I read the following:-" As to the Leir of Geoffrey's Latin, that name looks as if given its form on the strength of the legr of Legraceaster, the Anglo-Saxon name for the town of Leicester, on which William of Malmesbury