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"Leir. Deare Gonorill, kind Ragan, sweet Cordella,
Ye florishing branches of a kingly stocke,
Sprung from a tree that once did flourish greene,
Whose blossomes now are nipt with winter's frost,
And pale grym death doth wayt upon my steps,
And summons me unto his next assizes.

Therefore, deare daughters, as ye tender the safety
Of him that was the cause of your first being,
Resolve a doubt which much molests my mind,
Which of you three to me would prove most kind;
Which loves me most, and which at my request
Will soonest yeeld unto their father's hest.

"Gonorill. I hope, my gracious father makes no doubt Of any of his daughters love to him:

Yet for my part, to shew my zeal to you,
Which cannot be in windy words rehearst,

I prize my love to you at such a rate,

I thinke my life inferiour to my love.
Should you injoine me for to tie a milstone
About my neck, and leape into the sea,

At your commaund I willingly would doe it:
Yea, for to doe you good, I would ascend
The highest turret in all Brittany,

And from the top leape headlong to the ground:
Nay, more, should you appoint me for to marry
The meanest vassaile in the spacious world,
Without reply I would accomplish it:
In briefe, commaund whatever you desire,
And if I faile, no favour I require.

"Leir. O, how thy words revive my dying soule!
Cordella. O, how I doe abhorre this flattery!
"Leir. But what sayth Ragan to her father's will?
"Ragan. O, that my simple utterance could suffice
To tell the true intention of my heart,
Which burnes in zeale of duty to your grace,
And never can be quench'd, but by desire
To shew the same in outward forwardnesse.
Oh, that there were some other maid that durst
But make a challenge of her love with me;
Ide make her scone confesse she never loved
Her father halfe so well as I doe you.

I then my deeds should prove in plainer case,
How much my zeale aboundeth to your grace :
But for them all, let this one meane suffice
To ratify my love before your eyes:

I have right noble suters to my love,

No worse then kings, and happely I love one:
Yet, would you have me make my choice anew,
Ide bridle fancy, and be rulde by you.

"Leir. Did never Philomel sing so sweet a note.
"Cordella. Did never flatterer tell so false a tale.
"Leir. Speak now, Cordella, make my joys at full,
And drop downe nectar from thy honey lips.
"Cordella. I cannot paint my duty forth in words,

I hope my deeds shall make report for me:
But looke what love the child doth owe the father,
The same to you I beare, my gracious lord.

"Gonorill. Here is an answere answerlesse indeed: Were you my daughter, I should scarcely brooke it. "Ragan. Dost thou not blush, proud peacock as thou art,

To make our father such a slight reply?

"Leir. Why how now, minion, are you growne so proud! Doth our deare love make you thus peremptory? What, is your love become so small to us,

As that you scorne to tell us what it is?
Do you love us, as every child doth love
Their father? True indeed, as some,

Who by disobedience short their father's dayes,

And so would you; some are so father-sick,

That they make meanes to rid them from the world;
And so would you; some are indifferent,
Whether their aged parents live or die;

And so are you. But, didst thou know, proud girle,
What care I had to foster thee to this,

Ah, then thou wouldst say as thy sisters do:
Our life is lesse, then love we owe to you.

"Cordella. Deare father, do not so mistake my words, Nor my plaine meaning be misconstrued; My toung was never usde to flattery.

"Gonorill. You were not best say I flatter: if you do, My deeds shall shew, I flatter not with you.

I love my father better then thou canst. "Cordella. The praise were great, spoke from another's mouth:

But it should seeme your neighbours dwell far off. "Ragan. Nay, here is one, that will confirme as much As she hath said, both for myselfe and her. I say, thou dost not wish my father's good. "Cordella. Deare father

"Leir. Peace, bastard impe, no issue of king Leir, I will not heare thee speake one tittle more. Call not me father, if thou love thy life, Nor these thy sisters once presume to name: Looke for no helpe henceforth from me or mine; Shift as thou wilt, and trust unto thyselfe: My kingdome will I equally devide "Twixt thy two sisters to their royal dowre, And will bestow them worthy their deserts: This done, because thou shalt not have the hope To have a child's part in the time to come,

I presently will dispossesse myselfe,

And set up these upon my princely throne.

"Gonorill. lever thought that pride would have a fall. "Ragan. Plaine dealing sister: your beauty is so sheene,

You need no dowry, to make you be a queene. [Exeunt LEIR, GONORILL, RAGAN.

Mr. Skottowe has, with great diligence and minuteness, attempted to trace Shakspere in what he is supposed to have borrowed from the old play, and also in the points of difference. Our readers will easily imagine, from the extract with which we have furnished them, that Shakspere had, at all events, to create the poetical diction of Lear, without any obligation to his lumbering predecessor. In the conduct of the plot he is equally original. It may be sufficient for us to state that of the madness of Lear we have no trace in the old play; and that, like the chronicle, it ends with the triumphant restoration of Lear to his kingdom. Knowing this, we think that our readers will agree with us that it would be a waste of time to trace such resemblances as Mr Skottowe has described in the following passage: "How noble is the burst of passion, agony, and remorse, that succeed the disappointment of Shakspeare's king!

'Life and death! I am asham'd

That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus:

That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them.'

"And

Old fond eyes,

Beweep this cause again I'll pluck you out;
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay.'

"You think, I'll weep;

No, I'll not weep:

I have full cause for weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep.'

"To these passages the author of the old play derives some slight claim; for his Leir weeps after the vituperations of Gonorill, and Ragan observes

'He cannot speak for weeping.'"

There is a ballad, printed in 'Percy's Reliques,' on the story of Lear. It is without a date, and Percy says, "Here is found the hint of Lear's madness, which the old chronicles do not mention, as also the extravagant cruelty exercised on him by his daughters. In the death of Lear they likewise very exactly coincide. The misfortune is, that there is nothing to assist us in ascertaining the date of the ballad but what little evidence arises from within." We print the passages to which Percy alludes:

"Her father, old king Leir, this while

With his two daughters staid;
Forgetful of their promis'd loves,
Full soon the same decay'd;
And living in queen Ragan's court,
The eldest of the twain,

She took from him his chiefest means,
And most of all his train.

For whereas twenty men were wont
To wait with bended knee:

She gave allowance but to ten,

And after scarce to three :

Nay, one she thought too much for him:

So took she all away,

In hope that in her court, good king,
He would no longer stay.

"Am I rewarded thus, quoth he,

In giving all I have

Unto my children, and to beg

For what I lately gave?

I'll go unto my Gonorell;

My second child, I know,

Will be more kind and pitiful,
And will relieve my woe.

"Full fast he hies then to her court;
Where when she hears his moan,

Return'd him answer, That she griev'd
That all his means were gone :
But no way could relieve his wants;
Yet if that he would stay

Within her kitchen, he should have
What scullions gave away.

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"And so to England came with speed,

To re-possess king Leir,

And drive his daughters from their thrones

By his Cordelia dear:

Where she, true-hearted noble queen,

Was in the battle slain :

Yet he, good king, in his old days,
Possess'd his crown again.

"But when he heard Cordelia's death,

Who dy'd indeed for love

Of her dear father, in whose cause
She did this battle move;
He swooning fell upon her breast,
From whence he never parted:
But on her bosom left his life,
That was so truly hearted.

"The lords and nobles when they saw
The ends of these events,

The other sisters unto death
They doomed by consents;

And being dead their crowns they left

Unto the next of kin :

Thus have you seen the fall of pride.
And disobedient sin."

In Sidney's' Arcadia' there is a chapter entitled 'The pitiful state and story of the Paphlagonian unkind king, and his kind son, first related by the son, then by the blind father.' This unquestionably furnished the dramatic foundation of Gloster and Edgar. It may be sufficient for us to give the relation of the 'kind son :'

"This old man, whom I lead, was lately rightful prince of Paphlagonia, by the hard-hearted ungratefulness of a son of his, deprived not only of his kingdom, but of his sight, the riches which

nature grants to the poorest creatures; whereby and by other his unnatural dealings, he hath been driven to such griefs, as even now he would have had me to have led him to the top of this rock, thence to cast himself headlong to death; and so would have had me, who received my life of him, to be the worker of his destruction."

PERIOD OF THE ACTION, AND Manners.

THE sagacious Mrs. Lenox informs us that "Shakspere has deviated widely from History in the catastrophe of his play;" whereat she is somewhat indignant, for "had Shakspere followed the historian he would not have violated the rules of poetical justice." The antiquarians are as sensitive as the moralists upon this point. Had Shakspere attended to the chronology of the days of king Bladud, and preserved a due regard to the manners of Britain, at the period when Romulus and Remus built Rome "upon the eleventh of the Calends of May," he would not have given us what Douce calls "a plentiful crop of blunders." He would have made no allusions, according to Douce's literal view of the matter, to Turks, or Bedlam beggars, or Childe Roland, or the theatrical moralities, or to Nero. We confess, however, that this inexactitude of the poet does not shock us quite so much as it does the professional detectors of anachronisms,-those who look upon such allusions as "blunders" that may disturb the empire of accuracy and dulness, and consider poetry as properly a sort of ornamented Appendix to a Cyclopædia. We have no desire to regard the symbols by which ideas may be most readily communicated, as the exponents of the things themselves to which they refer. We are willing that a poet, describing events of a purely fabulous character, represented by the narrators of them as belonging to an age to which we cannot attach one precise notion of costume, (we use the word in its large sense,) should employ images that belong to a more recent periodand even to his own time. It is for the same reason that we do not object to see Lear painted with a diadem on his head, and his knights in armour. It is for this reason also, that the gentleman to whom we are indebted for that part of our comment which relates to the dress of Shakspere's characters, has nothing to say on the subject of Lear. We should not much quarrel with any theatrical costume of the tragedy, excepting, perhaps, Garrick's laced coat, and Quin's powdered periwig. We would leave these things to the imaginations of our readers, (whatever stage-managers may do with their audiences,) lest we should fall into some such mistake as that celebrated in the 'Art of Sinking in Poetry :'

"A painted vest Prince Vortigern had on,

Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won."

['My good biting faulchion. ]

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SCENE I-King Lear's Palace.

ACT I.

Enter KENT, GLOSTER, and EDMUnd. Kent. I thought the king had more affected the duke of Albany than Cornwall.

Glo. It did always seem so to us: but now, in the division of the kingdom," it appears not which of the dukes he values m st; for qualities b are so weigh'd, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either's moiety.

Johnson says, "There is something of obscurity, or inaccuracy, in this preparatory scene. The king has already divided his kingdom, and yet, when he enters, he examines his daughters to discover in what proportions he should divide it." Coleridge has shown that there is no inaccuracy; but that the king, having determined upon the division of his kingdom, institutes the trial of professions in strict accordance with his complicated character. (See Supplementary Notice.)

Qualities. In the quartos equalities. eCuriosity, exact scrutiny.

d Moiety. In the same way Hotspur calls his third share a moiety. In both these cases it is used for an assigned proportion. (See note on Henry IV., Part I., Act III.. Sc. I.)

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord?

Glo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am braz'd to 't.

Kent. I cannot conceive you.

Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could : whereupon she grew round-wombed; and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.

Glo. But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account: though this knave came somewhat saucily to the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair; there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ?

To--the quartos into.

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