Oh, undiftinguifh'd space of woman's will! (52)
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life,

And the exchange my brother. Here, i' th' fands
Thee I'll rake up, the poft unfanctified

Of murd❜rous letchers: and in the mature time,
With this ungracious paper ftrike the fight
Of the death practis'd Duke: for him 'tis well,
That of thy death and business I can tell.

Glo. The King is mad; how ftiff is my vile fenfe, That I ftand up, and have ingenious feeling Of my huge forrows! better I were distract, So fhould my thoughts be fever'd from my griefs; [Drum afar off. And woes, by wrong imaginations, lofe The knowledge of themselves.

Edg. Give me your hand :

Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum.

Come, father, I'll beftow you with a friend. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to a Chamber.

Enter Cordelia, Kent, and Phyfician.

Cor. O, thou good Kent, how fhall I live and work To match thy goodness? life will be too short, And ev'ry measure fail me.

(52) Ob, undiftinguish'd space of woman's will!] This is the reading of the first Folio, which Mr. Pope very unhap ily degrades, and fubftitutes, wit, the mistaken reading of the 1ft Quarto. What idea he form'd to himself of the undiftinguifh'd space of a woman's wit, I can't tell; I am quite at a lofs to understand any meaning in it. But the other reading gives us, as Mr. Warburton obferves to me, a most elegant expreffion, and moft fatirical thought: and more delicate than the---Varium & mutabile femper fæmina---of VIRGIL. 'Tis not the extravagance, but the mutability, of a woman's will that is here fatiriz'd. The change of which (our author would be understood to fay,) is fo fpeedy, that there is no space of time, no diftance, between the prefent will and the next; but it is an undistinguish'd space. This fentiment may not be ill explain'd further from what honeft Sancho, in Don Quixote, with infinite humour fays upon the fubject. Entre el Si y el No de la muger, no me atreveria yo a poner una punta d'alfiler. Betwixt a woman's yea, and no, I would not undertake to thrust a pin's point.

E 2

Kent.

Kent. To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid; All my reports go with the modeft truth, Nor more, nor clipt, but fo.

Cor. Be better fuited;

Thefe weeds are memories of thofe worfer hours:
I pr'ythee, put them off.

Kent. Pardon, dear madam,

Yet to be known, fhortens my made intent;
My boon I make it, that you know me not,
'Till time and I think meet.

Cor. Then be it so,

My Lord.-How does the King?

Phyf. Madam, fleeps ftill.

Cor. O you kind gods!

[To the Physician,

Cure this great breach in his abused nature;

Th' untun'd and jarring fenfes, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father.

Phyf. Please your Majefty,

'That we may wake the King, he hath flept long? Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed I' th' fway of your own will: is he array'd?

Enter Lear in a chair, carried by fervants.

Phyf. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of fleep,
We put fresh garments on him.

Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;
I doubt not of his temperance.

Cor. O my dear father! restoration, hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kifs
Repair thofe violent harms, that my two fifters
Have in thy reverence made!

Kent. Kind and deareft Princefs!

Cor. Had you not been their father, thefe white flakes Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face, To be expos'd against the warring winds?

To ftand against the deep, dread-bolted thunder? (53) In the most terrible and nimble ftroke

(53) To ftand against the deep,] The following three lines and an half, in no wife unworthy of our author, I have reftor'd from the

old 4to.

Of quick, crofs lightning? To watch poor Perdue!)
With this thin helm ?-My very enemy's dog,
Though he had bit me, fhou'd have ftood that night
Against my fire: And waft thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with fwine and rogues forlorn,
In fhort and mufty ftraw? alack," alack!
'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits, at once,
Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.
Phyf. Madam, do you; 'tis fitteft.

Cor. How does my royal Lord? how fares yourMajefty? Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' th' grave; Thou art a foul in blifs, but I am bound

Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears
Do fcald like molten lead.

Cor. Sir, do you know me ?

Lear. You are a fpirit, I know; when did you die? Cor. Still, ftill, far wide

Phyf. He's fcarce awake, let him alone awhile., Lear. Where have I been? where am I? fair day-light? I'm mightily abus'd; I should even die with pity, To fee another thus. I know not what to fay; I will not fwear, thefe are my hands: let's fee, I feel this pin prick: would, I were affur'd Of my condition.

Cor. O look upon me, Sir,

And hold your hand in benediction o'er me.
No, Sir, you must not kneel.

Lear. Pray, do not mock me;

I am a very foolish fond old man,

Fourfcore and upward; and to deal plainly,

I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.

Methinks, I fhould know you, and know this man; Yet I am doubtful: for I'm mainly ignorant,

What place this is; and all the skill I have, Remembers not these garments; nay, I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me, For, as I am a man, I think, this Lady

To be my child Cordelia.

Cor. And fo I am; I am.

Lear. Be your tears wet? yes, faith; I pray you, weep not.

If you have poifon for me, I will drink it;
I know, you do not love me; for your fifters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have fome caufe, they have not.
Cer. No caufe, no caufe.

Lear. Am I in France?

Kent. In your own kingdom, Sir.
Lear. Do not abufe me.

Phyf. Be comforted, good madam; the great rage,
You fee, is cur'd in him:-and, yet, 'twere danger
To make him even o'er the time, h' as loft.
Defire him to go in; trouble him no more,

Till further fettling.

Cor. Will't please your Highness walk?
Lear. You must bear with me;

Pray you now, forget and forgive;

I am old and foolish.

[Exeunt Lear, Cord, Phyf. and Attendants.

Manent Kent and Gentleman.

Gent. Holds it true, Sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was fo lain? (54)

Kent. Moft certain, Sir.

Gent. Who is conductor of his people?

Kent. As 'tis faid, the baftard ion of Glo'fter.

Gent. They fay, Edgar, his banish'd Son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.

Kent. Report is changeable; 'Tis time to look about: the powers of the Kingdom approach apace.

Gent. The arbitrement is like to be bloody.-Fare you well, Sir.

[Exit Gent. Kent. My point and period will be throughly wrought, Or well, or ill, as this day's battle's fought.

[Exit Kent.

(54) Gent. Holds it true, Sir?] This fhort dialogue, which was retrench'd by the players in their edition, I have reftor'd from the old 4to. The matter of it is natural and eafy; and tho' the language be not pompous, it is to the fubject: and the uncertainty of common report, with regard to Kent and Edgar, must be very pleafing to the audience, who knew how rumour was mistaken in representing them to be abroad.

ACT

K

ACT V.

SCENE, A Camp.

Enter Edmund, Regan, Gentlemen, and Soldiers.

EDMUN D.

Now of the Duke, if his laft purpose hold; Or whether fince he is advis'd by aught, To change the courfe? he's full of alteration, And felf-reproving: bring his conftant pleasure. (55) Reg. Our fifter's man is certainly mifcarry'd. Edm. 'Tis to be doubted, madam.

Reg. Now, fweet Lord,

You know the goodness I intend upon you:
Tell me but truly, but then speak the truth,
Do you not love my fifter?

Edm. In honour'd love.

Reg. But have you never found my

To the fore-fended place?

Edm. No, by mine honour, madam.

brother's way

Reg. I never thall endure her; dear my Lord, Be not familiar with her.

Edm. Fear not; fhe, and the Duke her husband---

Enter Albany, Gonerill, and Soldiers.

Gon. I'd rather lofe the battle, than that fifter (56) Should loofen him and me.

(55)

be's full of alteration,

[alide.

And felf-reproving brings his conftant pleasure.] Thus in the impreffions by Mr. Pope is this paffage moft nonfenfically read, and pointed. But fome better copies have aflifted to fet it right.

(56) Gon. I'd rather loofe the battle, --] This I have reflor'd from the old 4to; and, confidering the jealoufy of the Princeffes on each fide, it comes very naturally from Gonerill, upon her feeing Regan and Edmund together; as well as helps to mark the bufinefs going on, to the reader.