Be-monfter not thy feature. Were't my fitnefs Thy flesh and bones.-Howe'er thou art a fiend, Gen. Marry, your manhood now!- Mef. Oh, my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead 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, 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, 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. 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, Kent. SCENE, Dover. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman. [Exeunt HE King of France fo fuddenly gone back! 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 Kent. O, then it mov'd her.- Patience and forrow ftrove Which fhould exprefs her goodlieft; you have seen ·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 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, 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! And, clamour-motion'd, then away fhe ftarted (45) Kent. -It is the ftars, The ftars above us, govern our conditions: Gent. No. Kent. Was this before the King return'd? Timon of Athens; ̈ ́ She whom the fpittle-house and ulc'rous fores 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, To his dog-hearted daughters; Thefe things fting him 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 When I am known aright, you shall not grieve 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, 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, Cor. All bleft fecrets, All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, 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 But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right: [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. |