Mine houour'd lady! Cym. Does the world go round? Post. How come these staggers on me? Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy Pis. How fares my mistress? Imo. O get thee from my sight; Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence ! Cym. The tune of Imogen! The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if Imo. It poison'd me. Cor. O gods !— late My lady's honour: what became of him, further know not. Gui. Let me end the story: I slew him there. Cym. Marry, the gods forfend! I would not thy good deeds should from my lips Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth, Deny't again. Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it. Cym. He was a prince. Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did Endure our law: Thou art dead. Imo. That headless man I thought had been my lord. Bel. Stay, Sir king: This man is better than the man he slew, [To the Guards. They were not born for bondage. Cym. Why, old soldier, Arv. In that he spake too far. But I will prove that two of us are as good Arv. Your danger is Our's. Gui. And our good his. [Embracing him. Bel. Have at it then. [who By leave ;-Thou had'st, great king, a subject, Was call'd Belarius. Cym. What of him? he is Cym. How now, my flesh, my child? What, mak'st thou me a duliard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me ! Imo. Your blessing, Sir. [Kneeling. Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not; You had a motive for't. Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten, Upon my lady's missing, came to me A banish'd traitor. Bel. He it is, that bath Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man ; I know not how, a traitor. Cym. Take him hence; The whole world shall not save him. Bel. Not too hot : First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; Cym. Nursing of my sons? Bel. I am too blunt and sancy: Here's my knee; Ere I arise I will prefer my sons; Then, spare not the old father. Mighty Sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me fa ther, And think they are my sons, are none of mine; With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, And blood of your begetting. and swore, • Mix, compound. Cym. How! my issue? • Forbid. Scene V. CYMBELINE These, ishment Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd, years Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I as Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, dren Upon my banishment; I mov'd her to't; Sir, Here are your sons again; and I must lose Fail on their heads like dew! for they are To inlay heaven with stars. Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st. The service, that you three have done, is more Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children: If these be they, I know not how to wish A pair of worthier sons. Bel. Be pleas'd a while. This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, manded; And all the other by-dependancies. From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor See, Will serve our long intergatories. Imo. You are my father too: and did re- To see this gracious season. Cym. All overjoy'd, Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too, Luc. Happy be you! [Kneeling. Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd The thankings of a king. Post. I am, Sir, The soldier that did company these three The purpose I then follow'd ;-That I was he, Most worthy prince, as your's, is true, Gui-I will yet do you service. of his queen mother, which, for more probation, I can with ease produce. Cym. Guiderius had Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; It was a mark of wonder. Bel. This is he; Who hath upon him still that natural stamp ; Cym. O what am I A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother be, That after this strange starting from your orbs, I have got two worlds by't.-O my gentle Have we thus met? O never say hereafter, Cym. Did you e'er meet? Are. Ay, my good lord. Gui. And at first meeting lov'd; Continued so, until we thought he died. Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd. When shall I hear all through? This fierce Iach. I am down again : But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, Which I so often owe: but, your ring first: Post. Kneel not to me: The power that I have on you, is to spare you, Cym. Nobly doom'd: We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; Arv. You holp us, Sir, As you did mean indeed to be our brother; Post. Your servant, princes.-Good my lord Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, me- Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back, Luc. Philarmonus,- Luc. Read and declare the meaning. cap-Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp'; + Le. Which ought to be rendered distinct in an ample narrative. • Ghostly appearances. We term it mulier : which mulier, I divine, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about Cym. This hath some seeming. Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty. Cym. Well, By peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius, Have laid most heavy band. 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 Romau and a British ensign wave • Rico. | Friendly together: so through Lud's march: town And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.Set on there :-Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. [Exeunt To fair Fidele's grassy tomb, And melting virgins own their love. No goblins lead their nightly crew: The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew. The red-breast oft at evening hours Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid. When howling winds and beating rain. In tempests shake the sylvan cell: Or midst the chase on every plain, 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 pily's self be dead. KING LEAR. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. THE subject of this interesting tragedy, which was probably written in 1605, is derived 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 sous 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 censured (in the Spectator especially) as at variance with true tragic feeling and poetical beauty: although it may fairly be presumed, since mankind naturally love jusLear's struggles against his accumutice, 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 triumphaut. 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 skriful combination of dramatic portraiture than can be found in any other writer. "There is no play (says Dr. Johnson,) which keeps the attention so constantly fixed; which so much agitates our passions The celebrated Dr. Warton, who minutely criticised this play in the and interests our curiosity." Adventurer, objected to the instances of crualty, 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 Colman, as well 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. Tate, re-modelled this celebrated Drama, but it is acted, with trifling variations, on the original plan of the latter. ACT I. 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. Glo. But I have, Sir, a son, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer • Handsome. 2 P in my account: though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet his mother was fair; there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.-Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ? Edm. No, my lord. No less in space, validity, and pleasure, The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, 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, divided, In three, our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent + And you, our no less loving son of Albany, May be prevented now. The princes, France Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, Long in our court have made their amorous [daughters, sojourn, Cor. Nothing, my lord. Cor. Nothing. Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again. Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot beave My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty According to my bond; nor more, nor less. Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your Lest it may mar your fortunes. You have begot ine, bred me, lov'd me: I Half my love with him, half my care, and duty: Lear. But goes this with thy heart! Lear. So young, and so untender? For, by the sacred radiance of the sun; And here are to be answer'd.-Tell me, my And as a stranger to my heart and me (Since now we will divest us, both of rule, Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most? 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; Beyond all manner of so much I love you. Lear. Of all these bounds, even With shadowy forests and with rich'd, Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian, Or he that makes his generation | messes Kent. Good my liege,- Come not between the dragon and his wrath: Call Burgundy,-Cornwall and Albany, third: Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. champains I do invest you jointly with my power, Pre-eminence, and all the large effects With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, That troop with majesty.-Ourself, by monthly We make thee lady: To thine and Albany's [daughter, second issue Be this perpetual.-What says our And prize me at her worth. In my true heart, [sesses; Which the most precious square of sense pos- whom I have ever honour'd as my king,, And find I am alone felicitate § In your dear highness' love. Cor. Then poor Cordelia ! Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd, [Aside. As my great patron thought on in my prayers,Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's Lear. To thee and thine, hereditary ever from the shaft. • Valne. t Interess'd, has the same meaning asinterested: thoug one is derived from the French, the other from the Latin. Kindred. From this time. 1 His children. |