Imatges de pàgina
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thieves, and treacherous, by fpherical predominance; drunkards, lyars, and adulterers, by an inforc'd obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evafion of whore-mafter Man, to lay his goatifh difpofition on the charge of a star! my father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Urfa major; fo that it follows, I am rough and lecherous. I fhould have been what I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my baftardizing.

Pat!

To him, Enter Edgar.

-he comes, like the Ca'aftrophe of the old comedy; my cue is villanous Melancholy, with a figh like Tom o' Bedlam-O, thefe eclipfes portend thefe divifions! fa, fol, la, me

Edg. How now, brother Edmund, what ferious contemplation are you in ?

Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what fhould follow thefe eclipfes. Edg. Do you bufy your felf with that?

Edm. I promife you, the effects, he writes of, fucceed unhappily. When faw you my father laft? Edg. The night gone by.

Edm. Spake you with him?

Edg. Ay, two hours together.

Edm. Parted you in good terms, found you no difpleasure in him, by word or countenance? Edg. None at all.

Edm. Bethink yourself, wherein you have offended him: and, at my intreaty, forbear his prefence, until fome little time hath qualified the heat of his difpleafure; which at this inftant fo rageth in him, that with the mifchief of your perfon it would fcarcely allay.

Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong.

Edm. That's my fear; I pray you, have a continent forbearance 'till the speed of his rage goes flower: and as I fay, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord fpeak: pray you,

go.

go, there's my key: if you do ftir abroad, go arm'd. Edg. Arm'd, brother!

Edm. Brother, I advise you to the beft; I am no honeft man, if there be any good meaning toward you: I have told you what I have seen and heard, but faintly; nothing like the image and horror of it; pray you,

away.

Edg. Shall I hear from you anon?
Edm. I do ferve you in this business.
A credulous father, and a brother noble,
Whofe nature is so far from doing harms,
That he fufpects none; on whose foolish honesty
My practices ride eafy: I fee the bufinefs.
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit;
All with me's meet, that I can fashion fit.

[Exit.

[Exit.

SCENE, the Duke of Albany's Palace.

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Enter Gonerill, and Steward.

ID my father ftrike my gentleman for chiding of his fool?

Stew. Ay, madam.

Gon. By day and night, he wrongs me; every hour He flashes into one grofs crime or other,

That fets us all at odds; I'll not endure it:

His Knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us
On ev'ry trifle. When he returns from hunting,
I will not fpeak with him; fay, I am fick.

If

you come flack of former fervices,

You fhall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.
Stew. He's coming, madam, I hear him.
Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please.
You and your fellows: I'd have it come to queftion.
If he diftafte it, let him to my fifter,

Whofe mind and mine, I know, in that are one,
Not to be over-rul'd: Idle old Man, (8)

That

(8) Idle old Man,] The following lines, as they are fine in themfelves, and very much in character for Gonerill, I have reftor'd from

the

That ftill would manage thofe Authorities,
That he hath giv'n away!-Now, by my Life,
Old Fools are Babes again; and must be used

With checks, like flatt'rers when they're seen t'abufe us. Remember, what I have faid.

Stew. Very well, madam.

Gon. And let his Knights have colder looks among you: what grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows fo: I'll write ftrait to my fifter to hold my courfe: pre

pare for dinner.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to an open Place before

the Palace.

Enter Kent difguis'd.

Kent.

F

I but as wey fpeech difcre, s borrow;

And can my speech diffufe, my good intent (9) May carry thro' itfelf to that full iffue,

For which I raz'd my likeness. Now, bani'd Kent,
If thou can't ferve where thou doft ftand condemn'd,
So may it come, thy mafter, whom thou lov'ft,
Shall find thee full of labours.

the old 4to. The laft verfe, which I have ventur'd to amend, is there printed thus;

With Checks, like Flatt'ries when they are feen abus'd.

(9) And can my fpeech difufe,] This reading we deriv'd firft from Mr. Rowe's edition; and from thence it has taken poffeffion in the two impreffions given us by Mr. Pope. But the poet's word was certainly, diffufe: And Kent would fay, " If I can but fo fpread out my "accents," (de telle forte efpandre, as the French term it;)" vary my "tone, and utterance, fo widely from what it used to be as to difguife "it; &c." And diffufed in this fenfe of obfolete, disguised, our poet has more than once employ'd.

Let them from forth a faw-pit rush at once,
With fome diffused fong:

Merry Wives of Windfor.

To fwearing, and ftern looks, diffus'd attire,

Vouchfafe, diffus'd infection of a man,

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King Henry Vth.

King Richard IIId.

Horns

Horns within. Enter Lear, Knights and Attendants. Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner, go, get it ready: How now, what art thou? [To Kent.

Kent. A man, Sir.

Lear What doft thou profefs? what would't thou with us?

Kent. I do profefs to be no less than I feem; to serve him truly, that will put me in truft; to love him that is honeft; to converfe with him that is wife and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot chufe, and to eat no fish.

Lear. What art thou?

Kent. A very honeft-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King.

Lear. If thou beeft as poor for a fubject, as he is for a King, thou art poor enough. What would't thou? Kent. Service.

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Lear. Whom would'ft thou ferve?

Kent. You.

Lear. Doft thou know me, fellow?

Kent. No, Sir, but you have that in your counte

nance, which I would fain call master.

Lear. What's that?

Kent. Authority.

Lear. What fervices canft thou do?

Kent. I can keep honeft counfels, ride, run, marr a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a plain meffage bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualify'd in; and the best of me is diligence.

Lear. How old art thou?

Kent. Not fo young, Sir, to love a woman for finging; nor fo old, to doat on her for any thing. I have years on my back forty eight.

Lear. Follow me, thou fhalt ferve me; if I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, ho, dinner-where's my knave? my fool? You, you, firrah,

go you, and call my fool hither. where's my daughter?

Enter

Enter Steward.

[Exit.

Stew. So pleafe you

Lear. What fays the fellow there? call the clotpole back: where's my fool, ho?I think, the world's afleep: how now? where's that mungrel?

Knight. He fays, my lord, your daughter is not well. Lear. Why came not the flave back to me when I call'd him?

Knight. Si, he anfwer'd me in the roundest manner, he would not.

Lear. he would not?

Knight. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but to my Judgment, your Highness is not entertain'd with that ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general dependants, as in the Duke himfelf alfo, and your daughter.

Lear. Ha! fay'ft thou fo?

Knight. I befeech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be miftaken; for my duty cannot be filent, when I think your Highness is wrong'd.

Lear Thou but remember'ft me of my own conception. I have perceiv'd a moft faint neglect of late, which I have rather blamed as my own jealous curiofity, than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness; I will look further into't; but where's my fool? I have not feen him these two days.

Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, Sir, the fool hath much pined away.

Lear. No more of that, I have noted it well; go you and tell my daughter, I would fpeak with her. Go you, call hither my fool. O, you, Sir, come you hither, Sir; who am I, Sir?

Enter Steward.

Stew. My lady's father.

Lear. My lady's father? my lord's knave!. -you whorefon dog, you flave, you cur.

Stew.

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