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LEAR'S DISTRESS IN THE STORM.
Kent. Where's the king?
LEAR, ON THE INGRATITUDE OF HIS
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
That all the world shall-I will do such things-
FROM THE PLAY OF KING LEAR.'
Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,
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,
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
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,
Kent. Good my lord, enter here..
Lear. Prithee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease;
poverty,— Nay get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep—[Fool
CORDELIA ON THE INGRATITUDE OF