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Dear daughter, I confess, that I am old ;
Reg. Good Sir, no more ; these are unfightly tricks : Return you to my sister.
Lear. Never, Regan : She hath abated me of half my train ; Look'd blank upon me; ftruck me with her tongue, (10) Moft serpent-like, upon the very heart. All the stor’d vengeances of heaven fall On her ingrateful Top ! strike her young bones, You taking airs, with lameness !
Corn, Fie, Sir ! fie!
Lear. You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornful eyes ! infect her beauty, You fen-fuck'd fogs, drawn by the pow'rful sun To fall, and blast her pride.
Reg. O the bleft Gods! So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on.
Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse: Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give Thee o'er to harshness ; her eyes are fierce, but thine Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, To bandy hasty words, to scant my fizes, And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt Against my coming in. Thou better know'st The offices of nature, bond of child-hood, Effects of courtefie, dues of gratitude : Thy half o'th' Kingdom thou hast not forgot, Wherein I thee endow'd.
Reg. Good Sir, to th' purpose. [Trumpet within. Lear. Who put my man i' th’ Stocks ?
(10) Look'd black upon me,] This is a Phrase which I do not understand; neither have I any where else met with it. But to look blank is a known Expression, signifying, either to give discouraging Looks to another, or to stand dismay'd and disappointed one's-self. The Poet means here, that Gonerill gave him cold Looks, as he before phrases it in this play.
Enter Steward. Corn. What trumpet's that ?
Reg. I know't, my fifter's: this approves her letter, That she would soon be here. Is your lady come?
Lear. This is a slave, whose easie-borrowed pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. Qut, varlet, from my fight. Corn. What means your Grace?
do love old men, if your sweet sway (1)
Gon. Why not by th' hand, Sir ? how have I offended?
Lear. O fides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold - how came my man i' th’Stocks?
Corn. I set him there, Sir : but his own disorders Deserv'd much less advancement.
Lear. You ? did you?
Reg. I pray you, Father, being weak, seem fo.
if your sweet sway Allow Obedience,] Could any Man in his Senses, and Lear has 'em yet, make it a Question whether Heaven allow'd Obedience: Undoubtedly, the Poet wrote - Hallow Obedience,i. e. if by your Ordinances you hold and pronounce it fanétified; and punish the Violators of it as facrilegious Persons.
Mr. Warburton, Which shall be needful for
Gon. At your choice, Sir.
Lear. I proythee, daughter, do not make me mads
Reg. Not altogether io;
your fit welcome ; give ear to my sister ;
Necesity's Warp Pinch.] The Breach of the Sense bert is a manifest Proof, that these Lines were transpos’d by the first Editors: Neither can there be any Syntax or Grammatical Coherence, unless we suppose Necessiry's sharp Pinch to be the Accusative to wage. As I have plac'd the Verses, the Sense is fine and easie; and the Sentence compleat and finib'd. VOL. VI.
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Lear. Is this well spoken?
Reg. I dare avouch it, Sir ; what, fifty followers
receive attendance From those that the calls servants, or from mine?
Reg. Why not, my lord ? if then they chanc'd to
Lear. I gave you all
Lear. Made you my Guardians, my depofitaries ;
Reg. And speak’t again, my lord, no more with me,
Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd, When others are more wicked: Not being worst, Stands in some rank of praise ; I'll
Gon. Hear me, my lord ;
Reg. What needs one ?
Lear. O, reason not the need : oùr baseft beggars
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'ft,
[Storm and tempeft. Reg. This house is little; the old man and his people Cannot be well bestow'd.
Gon. 'Tis his own blame hath put himself from rest,
Reg. For his particular, I'll receive him gladly;
Gon. So am I purpos’d. :
Glo. Alack, the night comes on : and the high winds
Reg: O Sir, to wilful men,