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LEAR'S DISTRESS IN THE STORM.

Kent. Where's the king?
Gent. Contending with the fretful element:
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,
That things might change, or cease; tears his white

hair,
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of;
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn
The two-and-fro conflicting wind and rain.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will, take all.

LEAR, ON THE INGRATITUDE OF HIS

DAUGHTERS.

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both !
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger !
And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks !-No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both,

That all the world shall-I will do such things-
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep;
No, I'll not weep:-
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep :- fool, I shall go mad!

FILIAL INGRATITUDE.

FROM THE PLAY OF KING LEAR.'

Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster!

DESCRIPTION OF DOVER CLIFF.

Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How

fearful And dizzy'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs that wing the midway air, Shew scarce so gross as beetles : half way down, Hangs one that gathers samphire ;-dreadful trade ! Methinks he seems no bigger than his head : The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon' tall anchoring bark, Diminish'd to her cock: her cock, a buoy

Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Tumble down headlong.

In the first scene of the Fourth Act of the tragedy of King Lear, the blind Gloster, while wandering on the heath, having met his son Edgar, who does not discover himself, asks him, “ Dost thou know Dover?" And when the latter answers, “Ay, master,” rejoins,

“There is a cliff, whose high and bending head Looks fearfully in the confined deep; Bring me but to the very brim of it:

From that place I shall no leading need.”

It appears from these lines that the summit of Shakspere's Cliff formerly overhung its base. It has now, however, lost this distinguishing peculiarity. Indeed, so many portions of the cliff have successively fallen, that its height has been considerably diminished, and hence the above vivid description does not now apply.

The gathering of samphire was pursued as a trade in the days of Shakspere. The herb was much used as a pickle.

Since we wrote the above, time has accomplished much. We extract the following from one of the public prints under date of January 24th, 1863 :

Amidst the wreck of the late storm “ Shakspere Cliff,” at. Dover, immortalised in one of the finest of the great bard's tragedies, has been swept away. After witnessing the violence of the sea for centuries, it has at last succumbed to the silent, but irresistable action of the waves beating against its base; and whilst the authorities were disputing about the rights to the foreshore, it fell, and covered the beach with its ruins. Thus, like him who immortalised it, it has passed into the domain of history.'

LEAR’S EXCLAMATIONS IN THE TEMPEST. Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious

storm
Invades us to the skin : so 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fix'd,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou’dst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou’dst meet the bear in the mouth. When the

mind's free,
The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude !
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand,
For lifting food to't? But I will punish home:
No, I will weep no more. In such a night
To shut me out!—Pour on: I will endure.
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril !

Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,
0, that way madness lies; let me shun that:
No more of that.

Kent. Good my lord, enter here..

Lear. Prithee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease;
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in.
In, boy; go first.—[To the Fool.] you houseless

poverty,— Nay get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep—[Fool

goes in.]
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them,
And show the Heavens more just.

CORDELIA ON THE INGRATITUDE OF

HER SISTERS.
Cor. O my dear father! Restoration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
Have iu thy reverence made!

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