Be-monfter not thy feature. Were't my fitnefs
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.-

Gen. 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. Glo'fter's eyes!

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

To his great mafter: who, thereat enrag'd,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead:
But not without that harmful ftroke, which fince
Hath pluck'd him after.

Alb. This fhews you are above,

You justices, that these our nether crimes.

So fpeedily can venge.

Loft he his other eye?

Mef. Both, both, my

But O poor Glo'fter!

Lord.

This letter, madam, craves a fpeedy answer: *Tis from your fifter.

Gon. One way, I like this well;

But being widow, and my Glofier 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 answer. [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 purpofe, that their punishment Might have the freer course.

Alb. Glofter, I live

To thank thee for the love thou fhew'dft the King,

And

And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend,
Tell me, what more thou know'ft.

Kent.

SCENE, Dover.

Enter Kent, and a Gentleman.

[Exeunt

HE King of France fo fuddenly gone back!
Know you the reason?

TH

Gent. Something he left imperfect in the ftate, Which fince his coming forth is thought of, which Imports the kingdom fo much fear and danger, That his return was moft requir'd and neceffary. Kent. Who hath he left behind him General ? Gent. The Marefchal of France, Monfieur le Far. Kent. Did your letters pierce the Queen to any de monftration of grief?

Gent. Ay, Sir, he took 'em, read 'em in my prefence
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
Her delicate cheek: it feem'd, the 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 forrow ftrove

Which fhould exprefs her goodlieft; you have seen
Sun-fhine and rain at once:-her smiles and tears (44)
Were

·ber fmiles and tears.

(44) Were like a better day.] Mr. Pope, who thought fit to restore this fcene from the old 4to, 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 criticifm, he has convinc'd us, do not always center in the fame perfon. My friend. Mr. Warburton, with very happy fagacity ftruck out the emendation, which I have inferted in the text. And in confirmation of it I muft obferve, that it is very familiar with our poet, in the defcription of perfons, to allude to the seasons of the year, To: give a few inftances; Much Ado about Nothing.

Defpight his nice fence and his active practice,.

His May of youth and bloom of luftihood.

Rich. 2d.

My Queen to France, from whence, fet forth in pompy
She came adorned hither like sweet May;

Sent back, like Hallewmas, or shortest day.

Were like a wetter May.

Thofe happieft fmiles,

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 fhe no verbal queftion?

Gent. Yes, once, or twice, the heav'd the name of Father Pantingly forth, as if it preft her heart.

Cry'd, fifters fifters!-Shame of Ladies! fifters!
Kent! Father! fifters! what? i' th' ftorm? i' th' night?
Let pity ne'er believe it!-there fhe fhook
The holy water from her heav'nly eyes;

And, clamour-motion'd, then away fhe ftarted (45)
To deal with grief alone.

Kent.

-It is the ftars,

The ftars above us, govern our conditions:
Elfe one felf-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?

Timon of Athens; ̈ ́

She whom the fpittle-house and ulc'rous fores
Would caft the gorge at, this embalms and spices
To th' April day again.

Hamlet';

-O rofe of May!

Dear maid! kind fifter! &c.

-1

(45) And clamour-moiften'd,] This paffage, again, Mr. Pope funk upon us; and for the fame reafon, I fuppofe. Mr. Warburton dif cover'd likewife, that this was corrupt: for tho' clamour, (as he ob ferves,) may diftort the mouth, it is not wont to moifen the eyes. But clamour-matroned conveys a very beautiful idea of grief in Corde lia, and exactly in character. She bore her grief hitherto, fays the relater, in filence; but being no longer able to contain it, and wanting to vent it in groans and cries, the flies away and retires to her clofet to deal with it in private. This he finely calls, clamour-meten'd; or provok'd to a loud expreffion of her forrow, 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 oepb; who, being no longer able to reftrain the vehemence of his affection, commanded all his retinue from his prefence; and then wept aloud, and discover'd himself to his brethren."

Gent

Gent. No, fince.

Kent. Well, Sir; the poor diftreffed Lear's in towns 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; Thefe 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
And leave you to attend him. Some dear caufe
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile:

When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. Pray, along with me.

SCENE, a Camp,

Enter Cordelia, Phyfician, and Soldiers.

[Exeunt

Cor. A Lack, his her why, he was met even now

As mad as the vext fea; finging aloud; Crown'd with rank fumiterry and furrow-weeds, (46)

With

(46) Crown'd with rank fenitar;] There is no fuch herb, or weed, that I can find, of English growth; tho' all the copies agree in the corruption. I dare fay, I have reftor'd its right name; and we meet with it again in our author's Henry V. and partly in the same company as we have it here; -her fallow leas

The darnel, bemlock, and rank fumitory

Do root upon.

For this weed is call'd both fumitory and fumiterr, nearer to the French derivation fume-terre: which the Latin fhopmen term fumaria. It is the fame, which by Pliny (from Diofcorides and the other Greek phyficians) is named xamvas: because the juice of it has the effect,

With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow
Send forth a cent'ry;

In our fuftaining corn.

Search every acre in the high-grown field,

And bring him to our eye, What can man's wisdom In the reftoring his bereaved fense,

He, that helps him, take all my outward worth.

Phy. There

means, Madam:

Our fofter nurse of nature, is repose;

The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,
Are many fimples operative, whofe power
Will clofe the eye of anguifh.

Cor. All bleft fecrets,

All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears; be aidant, and remediate
In the good man's diftrefs! feek, feek for him;
Left his ungovern'd rage diffolve the life,
That wants the means to lead it.

Enter a Meffenger.

Me News, Madam :

The British pow'rs are marching hitherward.

Cor. 'Tis known before. Our preparation ftands In expectation of them. O dear father,

It is thy bufinefs that I go about: therefore great Franc
My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
No blown ambition doth our' arms incite,

But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right:
Soon may I hear, and fee him !: 1 2001 a

[Exeunt

which fmoke has, of making the eyes water. And as to the growth of it, Pliny tells us particularly that it fprings up in gardens and fields of barley; (Nafcitur in bortis et fegetibus bordeaceis) which our author here calls, in our fuftaining corn. I obferve, in Chaucer it is written femetere; by a corruption either of the fcribe, or of vulgar pronunciation; if of the latter, it might from thence easily flide, in- progrefe of time, into fenitar.