Imatges de pàgina
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How ugly didst thou in Cordelia fhew?

Which, like an engine, wrencht my frame of nature
From the fixt place; drew from my heart all love,
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!

Beat at this gate that let thy folly in, [Striking his head.
And thy dear judgment out.-Go, go, my people.
Alb. My lord, I'm guiltlefs, as I'm ignorant,
Of what hath moved you.

Lear. It may be fo, my lord

Hear, Nature, hear; dear Goddefs, hear a Father!
Sufpend thy purpofe, if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful:
Into her womb convey fterility,
Dry up in her the organs of increase,
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her! If the muft teem,
Create her child of fpleen, that it may live,
And be a thwart difnatur'd torment to her;
Let it ftamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,
With candent tears fret chanels in her cheeks: (1)
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits

To laughter and contempt; that she may feel,
How fharper than a ferpent's tooth it is,

To have a thankless child.

Go, go, my people.

Alb. Now, Gods, that we adore, whereof comes this?

Gon. Never affli&t yourself to know of it:

But let his difpofition have that scope,

That dotage gives it.

Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap?

Within a fortnight?

Alb. What's the matter, Sir?

(11) With cadent tears,] Mr. Warburton very happily here fufpects our author wrote, candent; as an epithet of much more energy, and more likely to effect Lear's imprecation He brings in confirmation, what the king fays prefently after;

That thefe hot tears, that break from me perforce, And what he fays towards the end of the 4th act:

but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears

Do fcald like molten lead.

B 3

Lear.

Lear. I'll tell thee-life and death! I am afham'd, That thou haft power to shake my manhood thus;

[To Gon. That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them.-blafts and fogs upon

thee!

Th' untented woundings of a father's curse (12)
Pierce every fenfe about thee! Old fond eyes,
Beweep this caufe again, I'll pluck ye out,
And caft you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay. Ha! is it come to this?

Let it be fo: I have another daughter,

Who, I am fure, is kind and comfortable;
When the fhall hear this of thee, with her nails
She'll flea thy wolfifh vifage. Thou shalt find,
That I'll refume the fhape,
I have caft off for ever.

which thou doft think
[Ex. Lear and attendants,

Gon. Do you mark that? Alb. I cannot be fo partial, To the great love I bear you,Gon. Pray you, be content.

Gonerill,

What, Ofwald, ho!

You, Sir, more knave than fool, after your master. Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry, take the fool A Fox, when one has caught her,

And fuch a daughter,

Should fure to the flaughter,

If my cap would buy a halter,
So the fool follows after.

[with thee!

[Exit.

(12) Th untender woundings,] I have here reftor'd the reading of all the genuine copies, which Mr. Pope had degraded; as it feems the moft expreffive, and conveys an image exactly fuiting with the poet's thought. 'Tis true, untender fignifies, sharp, fevere, harsh, and all the oppofites to the idea of tender. But as a wound untented is apt to rankle inwards, smart, and fefter, I doubt not, but Shakespeare meant to intimate here; that a father's curfe fhall be a wounding of such a fharp, inveterate nature, that nothing fhall be able to tent it; i. e, to fearch the bottom, and help in the cure of it. We have a paffage in Cymbeline, that very ftrongly confirms this meaning, I've heard, I am a ftrumpet; and mine ear (Therein falfe ftruck) can take no greater wound, Nor tent to bottom that.

Gon

Gon. This man hath had good counsel,—a hundred 'Tis politick, and safe, to let him keep [Knights! A hundred Knights; yes, that on ev'ry dream, Each buz, each fancy, each complaint, diflike, He may enguard his dotage with their pow'rs, And hold our lives at mercy. Ofwald, I say. Alb. Well, you may fear too far ;

Gon. Safer than truft too far.

Let me ftill take away the harms I fear,
Not fear ftill to be harm'd. I know his heart;
What he hath utter'd, I have writ my fifter;
If fhe'll fuftain him and his hundred Knights,
When I have fhew'd th' unfitnefs

How now, Ofwald?

Enter Steward.,

What, have you writ that letter to my fifter?
Stew. Ay, Madam.

Gon. Take you fome company, and away to horfe ; Inform her full of my particular fears,

And thereto add fuch reafons of your own,

As may compact it more. So get you gone,
And haften your return.

No, no, my lord,

[Exit Steward.

This milky gentlenefs and courfe of yours,
Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon,
You are much more at tafk for want of wisdom,
Than prais'd for harmful mildness.

Alb. How far your eyes may pierce, I cannot tell; Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

Gon. Nay, then

Alb. Well, well, th' event.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, a Court-yard belonging to the Duke

Lear.

of Albany's Palace.

Re-enter Lear, Kent, Gentleman and Fool.

O you before to Glofter with thefe letters; acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you know, than comes from her demand out of

B 4

the

-

the letter; if your diligence be not fpeedy, I fhall be

there afore you.

Kent. I will not fleep, my lord, 'till I have delivered your letter.

[Exit.

Fool. If a man's brain were in his heels, wer't not in danger of kibes ?

Lear. Ay, boy.

Fool. Then, I pr'ythee, be merry, thy wit fhall not go flip-fhod.

Lear. Ha, ha, ha.

Fool. Shalt fee, thy other daughter will use thee kindly; for though fhe's as like this as a crab's like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell.

Lear. What can't tell, boy?

Fool. She will tafte as like this, as a crab does to a crab. Can't thou tell,why one's nose stands i' th' middle of one's face?

Lear. No.

Fool. Why, to keep one's eyes of either fide one's nofe; that what a man cannot fmell out, he may spy into.

Lear. I did her wrong

Fool. Can't tell how an oyster makes his shell?

Lear. No.

Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell, why a snail has a house.

Lear. Why?

Fool. Why, to put's head in, not to give it away to his daughters, and leave his horns without a cafe.

Lear. I will forget my nature; fo kind a father! be my horses ready?

Fool. Thy affes are gone about 'em; the reason, why the feven ftars are no more than feven, is a pretty reafon.

Lear. Because they are not eight.

Fool. Yes, indeed; thou wouldft make a good fool. Lear. To take't again perforce!

tude!

monfter ingrati

Fool. If you were my fool, nuncle, I'd have thee beaten for being old before thy time.

Lear.

Lear. How's that?

Fool. Thou should'st not have been old, 'till thou hadft been wife.

Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, fweet heav'n! Keep me in temper, I would not be mad.

Enter Gentleman.

How now, are the horses ready?

Gent. Ready, my lord.

Lear. Come, boy.

[ture,

Fool. She that's a maid now, and laughs at my deparShall not be a maid long, unless things be cut fhorter.

[Exeunt.

[blocks in formation]

SCENE, A Castle belonging to the Earl of Glofter,

Enter Edmund and Curan, feverally.

EDMUND.

AVE thee, Curan.

SAVE

Cur. And you, Sir. I have been with your father, and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall, and Regan his Dutchefs, will be here with him this night. Edm. How comes that?

Cur. Nay, I know not; you have heard of the news abroad; I mean, the whifper'd ones; for they are yet but ear-kiffing arguments.

Edm. Not I; pray you, what are they?

Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 'twixt the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?

Edm. Not a word.

Cur. You may do then in time. Fare you well, Sir.

[Exit.

Edm. The Duke be here to-night! the better! beft! This weaves itself perforce into my business;

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