Gon. Then fhall you go no further.
It is the cowish terrour of his fpirit,

That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs,
Which tie him to an answer; our wishes on the way
May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother,
Haften his mufters, and conduct his powers.
I muft change arms at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us: you ere long shall hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,

A miftrefs's command. Wear this; fpare speech;
Decline your head. This kifs, if it durft fpeak,
Would ftretch thy fpirits up into the air:
Conceive, and fare thee well.

Edm. Yours in the ranks of death.

Gon. My most dear Glofter!

[Exit Edmund.

Oh, the range difference of man, and man!

To thee a woman's fervices are due,

My fool ufurps my body.

Stew. Madam, here comes my lord.

Enter Albany.

You are not worth the duft, which the rude wind

Blows in your face,

I fear your disposition :

That Nature, which contemns its origine,

Cannot be border'd certain in it self;

She that herself will fliver, and dif-branch,

From her maternal fap, perforce must wither, (21)
And come to deadly ufe.

Gon. No more; 'tis foolish.

Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vile feem vile;

(21) From ber material Sap,] Thus the old Quarto; but material Sap, I own, is a Phrafe that I don't understand. Metber-Tree is the true technical Term; and confidering, our The Author has faid but just above, That Nature, which contemns its Origine, there is little room to question but he wrote, From ber maternal Sap.

D 2

Filths

Filths favour but themselves-What have you done?
Tygers, not daughters, what have you perform'd ?
A father, and a gracious aged man,

Molt barb'rous, moft degenerate, have you madded.
Cou'd my good Brother fuffer you to do it,
A man, a Prince by him fo benefited?

If that the heav'ns do not their visible Spirits
Send quickly down to tame the vile offences,
Humanity must perforce prey on it self,
Like monsters of the deep.

Gon. Milk-liver'd man!

That bear'ft a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who haft not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honour, from thy fuffering: that not know'ft,
Fools do these villains pity, who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy Drum?
France fpreads his Banners in our noifelefs land,
With plumed helm thy flayer begins his threats;
Whilft thou, a moral fool, fit'ft ftill, and cry'ft,
"Alack! why does he fo?

Alb. See thy felf, devil:

Proper deformity feems not in the fiend
So horrid as in woman.

Gon. O vain fool!

Alb. Thou chang'd, and self-converted thing! For fhame,

Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness
To let these hands obey my [boiling] blood,
They're apt enough to dislocate and tear

Thy flesh and bones, Howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman's fhape doth fhield thee.

Gon. Marry, your manhood now!

Enter Meffenger.

Mef. Oh, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead: Slain by his fervant, going to put out

The other eye of Glofter.

Alb. Glofter's eyes!

Mef. A fervant, that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, Oppos'd against the act; bending his fword

To

To his great master: who, thereat enrag'd,

Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead:
But not without that harmful stroke, which fince
Hath pluck'd him after.

Alb. This fhews you are above,

You Juftices, that these our nether crimes
So fpeedily can venge. But O poor Glofter!
Loft he his other eye?

Mef. Both, both, my lord.

This letter, Madam, craves a speedy answer: 'Tis from your fifter.

Gon. One way, I like this well;

But being widow, and my Glofter with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck

Upon my hateful life. Another way,

The news is not fo tart. I'll read, and anfwer. [Exit. Alb. Where was his fon, when they did take his eyes? Mef. Come with my lady hither.

Alb. He's not here.

Mef. No, my good lord, I met him back again.

Alb. Knows he the wickedness?

Mef. Ay, my good lord, 'twas he inform'd against him,

And quit the houfe of purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer courfe.

Alb. Glo'fter, I live

To thank thee for the love thou fhew'dft the King,
And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend,
Tell me, what more thou know'st.

[Exeunt.

SCENE,

DOVE R.

Kent.

T

Enter Kent, and a Gentleman.

Know you the reafon ?

HE King of France fo fuddenly gone back!

Gent. Something he left imperfect in the State, Which fince his coming forth is thought of, which Imports the Kingdom fo much fear and danger, That his Return was most requir'd and necessary.

D 3

Kent.

Kent. Whom hath he left behind him General? Gent. The Marefchal of France, Monfieur le Far. Kent. Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonftration of grief?

Gent. I, Sir, he took 'em, read 'em in my presence; And now and then an ample tear trill'd down

Her delicate cheek: it feem'd, fhe was a Queen
Over her paffion, which, moft rebel-like,
Sought to be King o'er her.

Kent. O, then it mov'd her.

Gent. But not to Rage. Patience and Sorrow ftrove Which should exprefs her goodlieft; you have seen Sun-fhine and rain at once: - her Smiles and Tears (22) Were like a wetter May. Thofe happiest smiles, That play'd on her ripe lip, feem'd not to know What guests were in her Eyes; which parted thence, As pearls from diamonds dropt.In brief, Sorrow would be a rarity most belov'd,

If all could fo become it.

Kent. Made the no verbal question?

Gent. Yes, once, or twice, fhe heav'd the Name of Father

Pantingly forth, as if it preft her heart.

Cry'd, fiiters! fifters!

Shame of Ladies! fifters!

there the fhook

Kent! Father! Sifters! what? i'th' ftorm? i'th' night? Let Pity ne'er believe it!

The holy water from her heav'nly Eyes;
And, Clamour-motion'd, then away fhe started (23)

(22)

ber Smiles and Tears

Το

Were like a better day.] Mr. Pope, who thought fit to restore this Scene from the old Quarto, tacitly funk this Paffage upon us, because he did not understand it. Indeed, it is corrupt; and he might have done himself fome Honour in attempting the Cure; but Rhyme and Criticism, he has convinc'd us, do not always center in the fame Perfon. My Friend Mr. Warburton with very happy Sagacity ftruck out the Emendation, which I have inferted in the Text.

(23) And Clamour-moiften'd,] This Paffage, again, Mr. Pope funk upon us; and for the fame Reason, I fuppofe. Mr.

Warburton

The Stars above us, govern our conditions:
Elfe one self-mate and mate could not beget

Such diff'rent iffues. Spoke you with her fince?
Gent. No.

Kent, Was this before the King return'd?

Gent. No, fince.

Kent. Well, Sir; the poor diftreffed Lear's in town; Who fometimes, in his better tune, remembers

What we are come about; and by no means
Will yield to fee his daughter.

Gent. Why, good Sir?

Kent. A fov'reign fhame fo bows him; his unkindness,
That ftript her from his benediction, turn'd her
To foreign cafualties, gave her dear rights

To his dog-hearted daughters; These things fting him
So venomously, that burning fhame detains him
From his Cordelia.

Gent. Alack, poor gentleman!

Kent. Of Albany's, and Cornwall's Pow'rs you heard

not?

Gent. 'Tis fo, they are a foot.

Kent. Well, Sir, I'll bring you to our mafter Lear,

Warburton difcover'd likewife, that this was corrupt for tho' Clamour, (as he obferves,) may distort the Mouth, it is not wont to moisten the Eyes. But clamour-motioned conveys a very beautiful Idea of Grief in Cordelia, and exactly in Character. She bore her Grief hitherto, fays the Relater, in Silence; but being no longer able to contain it, and wanting to vent it in Groans and Cries, fhe flies away and retires to her Closet to deal with it in private. This He finely calls, Clamour-motion'd; or provok'd to a loud Expreffion of her Sorrow, which drives her from Company! It is not impoffible, but Shakespeare might have form'd this fine Picture of Cordelia's Agony from Holy Writ, in the Conduct of Joseph; who, being no longer able to restrain the Vehemence of his Affection, commanded all his Retinue from his Presence; and then wept aloud, and discover'd himself to his Brethren.