We term it mulier : which mulier, I divine, Is this most constant wife: who, even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about With this most tender air. Cym. This hath some seeming. Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd point branches 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 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 ensign wave Friendly together: march : so through Lud's 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 A SONG, Sung by Guiderius and Arviragus over Fidele, supposed to be dead. BY WILLIAM COLLINS. 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 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 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 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 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 any 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 variations, on the original plan of the latter. Kent. Is not this your son, my lord? Glo. His breeding, Sir, hath been at my 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-wombed; 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. fu my account: though this knave came some- | 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 gentleman, 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 Keut: 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 he shall again :-The king is coming. [Trumpets sound within Enter LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart, In your dear highness' love. Cor. Then poor Cordelia! {sesses; [Aside. Cor. Nothing, my lord. Lear. Nothing? Cor. Nothing. Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again. Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my month: I love your majesty According to my bond; nor more, nor less. Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your speech a little, Lest it may mar your fortunes. Cor. Good my lord, You have begot me, tred 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 ? Lear. Let it be so.-Thy truth then be thy dower: For, by the sacred radiance of the sun; Or he that makes his generation || messes Kent. Good my liege, Lear. Peace, Kent! Come not between the dragon and his wrath : lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest On her kind nursery.--Hence, and avoid my sight![To CORDELIA. So be my grave my peace, as here I give Her father's heart from her!-Call France ;Who stirs ? Call Burgundy,-Cornwall and Albany, Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. Revenue, execution of the rest, [Giving the Crown. Whom I have ever honour'd as my king, Kent. Royal Lear, Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd, As my great patron thought on in my prayers,— Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. |