Cym. Well, By peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius, Have laid most heavy hand. Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do The harmony of this peace. The vision The imperial Cesar, should again unite Cym. Laud we the gods; And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless'd altars! Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let A Roman and a British eusign wave • Rise. To fair Fidele's grassy tomb, And melting virgins own their love. The tender thought on thee shall dwell, Each lonely scene shall thee restore; For thee the tear be duly shed: Belov'd, till life could charm no more; And mourn'd, till pity's self be dead. KING LEAR. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. THE subject of this interesting tragedy, which was probably written in 1605, is serived from an old historical ballad, founded on a story in Holinshed's Chronicles, and originally told by Geoffery of Monmouth. "Leir (says the Welsh historian) was the eldest son of Bladud, nobly governed his country for sixty years, and died about 800 years before Christ." Camden tells a similar story of Isra, king of the West Saxons, and his three daughters.The episode of Gloster and his sons is taken from Sidney's Arcadia. Tate, the laureat, greatly altered, and in a degree polished this play, inserting new scenes or passages, and transposing or omitting others: in particular, he avoided its original heart-rending catastrophe, by which the virtue of Cordelia was suffered to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and to the facts of the ancient narrative. He also introduced Edgar to the audience as the suitor of Cordelia, cancelling the excellent scene in which, after being rejected as dowerless, by Burgundy, her misfortunes and her goodness recommend her to the love of the king of France. Yet the restauration of the king, and the final happiness of Cordelia, have been ceasured (in the Spectator especially) as at variance with true tragic feeling and poetical beauty: although it may fairly be presumed, since mankind naturally love justice, that an attention to its dictates will never make a play worse, and that an audience will generally rise more satisfied where persecuted virtue is rewarded and triumphant. Lear's struggles against his accumu lated injuries, and his own strong feelings of sorrow and indignation, are exquisitely drawn. The daughters severally working him up to madness, and his finally falling a martyr to that malady, is a more deep and skilful combination of dramatic portraiture than can be found in sny other writer. "There is no play (says Dr. Johnson,) which keeps the attention so constantly fixed; which so much agitates our passions and interests our curiosity." The celebrated Dr. Warton, who minutely criticised this play in the Adventurer, objected to the instances of cruelty, as too savage and too shocking. But Johnson observes, that the barbarity of the daughters is an historical fact, to which Shakspeare has added little, although he cannot so readily apologize for the extrusion of Gloster's eyes, which is too horrid an act for dramatic exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind to relieve its distresses by incredulity. Colman, as well as Tate, re-modelled this celebrated Drama, but it is acted, with trifling variatious, on the original plan of the latter. Kent. Is not this your son, my lord? SCENE I-A Room of State in King LEAR's charge: I have so often blush'd to acknowledge Palace. him, that now I am brazed to it. Kent. I cannot conceive you. Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon she grew round-wonbed; and had, indeed, Sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper. Glo. But I have, Sir, a son, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer • Handsome. in my account: though this knave came some- 1 No less in space, validity, and pleasure, what saucily into the world before he was sent Than that confirm'd on Goneril.-Now, our joy, for, yet his mother was fair; there was good Although the last, not least; to whose young sport at his making, and the whoreson must be love acknowledged.-Do you know this noble gentlemian, Edmund ? Edm. No, my lord. The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, Strive to be interess'd:+ what can you say, to draw Glo. My lord of Kent: remember him here. A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. after as my honourable friend. Edm. My services to your lordship. Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better. Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. Glo. He hath been out nine years, and away Enter LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, Gloster. Glo. I shall, my liege. [guudy, [Exeunt GLOSTER and EDMUND. Lear. Meantime we shail express our darker * purpose. Cor. Nothing, my lord. Lear. Nothing? Cor. Nothing. Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave Lest it may mar your fortunes. Lear. Attend the lords of France and Bar-You have begot me, red me, lov'd me: I Give me the map there.-Know, that we have In three, our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent + And you, our uo less loving son of Albany, May be prevented now. The princes, France Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, Gon, Sir, I [matter Do love you more than words can wield the honour : As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found: unable; silent. Beyond all manner of so much I love you. With shadowy forests and with champains With plenteous 1ivers and wide-skirted meads, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart, In your dear highness' love. Cor. Then poor Cordelia ! [Aside. And yet not so: since, I am sure, my love's Lear. To thee and thine hereditary ever Half my love with him, half my care, and duty: Lear. But goes this with thy heart? Lear. So young, and so untender? Lear. Let it be so.-Thy truth then be thy For, by the sacred radiance of the sun; From whom we do exist, and cease to be; Or he that makes his generation || messes Kent. Good my liege, Lear. Peace, Keut! Come not between the dragon and his wrath: Call Burgundy,-Cornwall and Albany, Let pride, which she calls plainuess, marry her. With reservation of a hundred knights, The sway, Revenue, execution of the rest, whom I have ever honour'd as my king, |