Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad,
I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewel;
We'll no more meet, no more fee one another;
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter,
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,

Which I muft needs call mine; thou art a bile,
A plague-fore, or imboffed carbuncle,

In my corrupted blood; but I'll not chide thee.
Let fhame come when it will, I do not call it;
I do not bid the thunder-bearer fhoot,

Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.
Mend, when thou can'ft; be better, at thy leisure.
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan;
I, and my hundred Knights.

Reg. Not altogether fo;

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome; give ear to my fifter;
For those that mingle reafon with your paffion,
Must be content to think you old, and so-
But fhe knows what she does.

Lear. Is this well spoken?

Reg. I dare avouch it, Sir; what, fifty followers? Is it not well? what should you need of more? Yea, or fo many? fince both charge and danger Speak 'gainst fo great a number: how in one house Should many people under two commands Hold amity? 'tis hard, almoft impoffible.

Gon. Why might not you, my Lord, receive attendance From those that she calls fervants, or from mine? Reg. Why not, my Lord? if then they chanc'd to flack ye,

We could controul them; if you'll come to me,

(For now I fpy a danger) I intreat you

To bring but five and twenty; to no more

Will I give place or notice.

Lear. I gave you all

Reg. And in good time you gave it.

Lear. Made you my Guardians, my depofitaries; But kept a reférvation to be follow'd'

With

With fuch a number; muft I come to you
With five and twenty? Regan, faid you fo?

Reg. And speak't again, my Lord, no more with me. Lear.Thofewicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd, When others are more wicked: Not being worst, Stands in fome rank of praife; I'll go with thee; Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty; And thou art twice her love.

Gon. Hear me, my lord;

What need you five and twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house, where twice fo many
Have a command to tend you?

Reg. What needs one?

Lear. O, reafon not the need: our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing fuperfluous;

Allow not nature more than nature needs,

Man's life is cheap as beafts. Thou art a Lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'ft,
Which fcarcely keeps thee warm; but for true need,
You heav'ns, give me that patience which I need!
You fee me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you, that stir these daughters hearts
Against their father, fool me not fo much

To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger; (23
(23)

(23) touch me with noble anger.] It would puzzle one at first, to find the fenfe, and drift, and coherence of this petition. For if the gods fent this affliction for his punishment, how could he expect that they would defeat their own design, and affift him to revenge his injuries by touching bim with noble anger? This question cannot wellbe anfwer'd, without going a little further than ordinary for the folution. We may be affured then, that Shakespeare had here in his mind thofe opinions the ancient poets held of the misfortunes of particular families. They tell us, that when the anger of the gods (for any act of impiety) was rais'd against an offending family, that their method of punishment was this: first, they inflamed the breafts of the children to unnatural acts against their parents; and then, of the parents against their children; that they might destroy one another: and that both these outrages were the acts of the gods. To confider Lear

C 3

O let not womens weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks. No, you unnat❜ral hags,
I will have fuch revenges on you both, (24)
That all the world fhall-I will do fuch things,
What they are, yet I know not; but they fhall be
The terrors of the earth: you think, I'll weep:
No, I'll not weep. I have full caufe of weeping:
This heart fhall break into a thousand flaws,
Or ere I weep. O fool, I fhall go mad.

[Exeunt Lear, Glo'fter, Kent and Fool. Corn. Let us withdraw, 'twill be a ftorm.

[Storm and tempeft.

Reg. This houfe is little; the old man and his people Cannot be well beftow'd.

Gon. 'Tis his own blame hath put himself from reft, And muft needs tafte his folly.

Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly; But not one follower.

Gon. So am I purpos'd.

Where is my Lord of Glo'fter?

Enter Glo'fter.

Corn. Follow'd the old man forth;-he is return'd. Glo. The King is in high rage, and will I know not whither.

Lear as alluding to this, makes his prayer exceeding pertinent and fine. Mr. Warburton,

(24) I will have fuch revenges on you both, That all the world fall-----] This fine abrupt breaking off, and fuppreffion of paffion in its very height, (a figure, which the Greek rhetoricians have call'd, doσinois) is very familiar with our author, as with other good writers, and always gives an energy to the subject. That, by Neptune in the first book of the Eneis, is always quoted as a celebrated inftance of this figure:

Quos ego-----Sed motos præftat componere fluctus.

What Lear immediately fubjoins here, I will do fuch things,----What they are, yet I know not--feems to carry the visible marks of imita

Corn. 'Tis beft to give him way, he leads himself. Gon. My Lord, intreat him by no means to ftay. Glo. Alack, the night comes on: and the high winds Do forely ruffle, for many miles about There's fcarce a bufh.

Reg. O Sir, to wilful men,

The injuries, that they themselves procure,
Must be their school-mafters: fhut up your doors;
He is attended with a defp'rate train;

And what they may incenfe him to, being apt
To have his ear abus'd, wifdom bids fear.

Corn. Shut up your doors, my Lord, 'tis a wild night. My Regan counfels well: come out o' th' ftorm.

[Exeunt.

A form is heard with thunder and lightning. Enter Kent, and a Gentleman, feverally.

W

ΚΕΝΤ.

HO's there, befides foul weather?

Gent. One minded like the weather, moft unquietly.

Kent. I know you, where's the King?

Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the fea;

Or fwell the curled waters 'bove the main,

That things might change, or ceafe: tears his white hair,
(Which the impetuous blafts with eyelefs rage
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of.)
Strives in his little World of Man t' outfcorn
The to-and fro conflicting wind and rain.

This night, wherein the Cub-drawn bear would couch,

C 4

The

The lion, and the belly-pinched wolf

Keep their furr dry; unbonnetted he runs,
And bids what will, take all.

Kent. But who is with him?

Gent. None but the fool, who labours to out-jeft His heart-ftruck injuries.

Kent. Sir, I do know you,

And dare, upon the warrant of my note,
Commend a dear thing to you. There's divifion
(Although as yet the face of it is cover'd
With mutual cunning) 'twixt Albany and Cornwall:
Who have (as who have not, whom their great
ftars (25)
Thron'd and fet high?) fervants, who feem no lefs;
Which are to France the fpies and fpeculations
Intelligent of our ftate. What hath been seen,
Either in fnuffs and packings of the Dukes ;
Or the hard rein, which both of them have borne
Against the old kind King; or fomething deeper,
(Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings-)
But true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this fcatter'd kingdom; who already,
Wife in our negligence, have fecret sea
In fome of our best ports, and are at point
To fhew their open banner-Now to you,
If on my credit you dare build fo far

To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding forrow

The King bath caufe to plain.

I am a gentleman of blood and breeding,
And from fome knowledge and affurance of you,
Offer this office.

Gent. I'll talk further with you.

Kent. No, do not:

(25) Who bave, as who have not,---] The eight fubfequent verfes were degraded by Mr. Pope, as unintelligible, and to no purpose. For my part, I fee nothing in them but what is very eafy to be underfood; and the lines feem abfolutely neceffary to clear up the motives, upon which France prepar'd his invafion; nor without them is the feafe of the context compleat.

For