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To his great master : who, thereat enrag'd,
Alb. This shews you are above,
Mef. Both, both, my lord.
hateful life. Another way, The news is not so tart. I'll read, and answer. (Exit.
Alb. Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?
him, And quit the house of purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course.
Alb. Glofter, I live
S CE N E, D O V E R.
Enter Kent, and a Gentleman. Kent. HE King of France so suddenly gone back!
the reason ?
Kent. Whom hath he left behind him General ?
Kent. Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of grief?
Gent. I, Sir, she took 'em, read 'em in my presence ; And now and then an ample tear trillid down Her delicate cheek : it seem'd; she was a Queen Over her paflion, which, most rebel-like, Sought to be King o'er her.
Kent. O, then it mov'd her.
Gent. But not to Rage. Patience and Sorrow Atrove
Kent: Made she no verbal question ?
(22) er her Smiles and Tears Were like a better day.) Ms. Pope, who thought fit to restore this Scene from the old Quarto, tacitly sunk this Passage upon us, because he did not understand it. Indeed, it is corrupt ; and he might have done himself some Honour in attempting the Cure; but Rhyme and criticism, he has convinc'd us, do not always center in the same Person. My Friend Mr. Warburton with very happy Sagacity struck out the Emendation, which I have inserted in the Text,
(23) And Clamour-moisten’d,] This Palage, again, Mr. Pope funk upon us ; and for the fame Reason, I suppose. Mr.
To deal with grief alone.
Kent. It is the Stars,
Gent. Why, good Sir ?
Kent. A sov’reign shame so bows him ; his unkindness,
Gent. Alack, poor gentleman !
not? Gent. 'Tis fo, they are a-foot. Kent. Well, Sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear,
Warburton discover'd likewise, that this was corrupt : for tho Clamour, (as he observes,) may diftort the Mouth, it is not wont to moisten the Eyes. But clamour-motioned conveys a very beautiful Idea of Grief in Cordelia, and exa&ly in Chara&er. shc bore her Grief hitherto, says the Relater, in siIerec ; but being no longer able to contain it, and wanting to vent it in Groans and Cries, the flies away and retires to her Closer to deal with it in private. This He finely calls, Clamour-motion'd; or provok'd to a loud Expression of her Sora TOW, which drives her from Company! - It is not imposfible, but Shakespeare might have form'd this fine Pi&ure of Cordelia's Agony from Holy Writ, in the Conduæ of you Sephs who, being no longer able to reftrain the Vehemence of his Affe&ion, commanded all his Retinue from his Presence; and then wept alond, and discoverd himself to his Brethren,
And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause
SCE N E, a CA M P.
Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers. Cor. LACK, 'tis he; why, he was met even now
As mad as the vext sea; singing aloud ; Crown'd with rank fumiters, and furrow-weeds, (24) With hardocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that
grow In our sustaining corn.
Send forth a centry;
Phys. There are means, Madam:
(24) Crown'd with rank Fenitar; ] There is no such Herb, or Weed, that I can find, of English Growth; tho' all the copies agree in the Corruption. I dare say, I have refor'd its right Name; and we meet with it again in our Author's Henry V. and partly in the same Company as we have is
her fallow Leas
Do root upon. For this Weed is call'd both Fumitory and Fumiterr, nearer to the French Derivation Fume-terre: which the Latin Shopmen term Fumaria. I observe, in Chaucer it is written Feme tere; by a Corruption either of the Scribe, or of vulgar Pronunciation; if of the lacter, it might from theace calily Nide, in progress of time, into Fenitar.
Cor. All bleft Secrets,
Enter a Messenger.
Cor. 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands
SCENE, Regan's PALACE.
Enter Regan, and Steward. Reg.
UT are my Brother's Powers set forth?
Stew. Ay, Madam. Reg. Himself in person there?
Stew. With much adoe. Your fifter is the better soldier. Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lady at
home? Stew. No, Madam. Reg. What might import my fifter's letter to him? Stew. I know not, lady.
Reg. Faith, he is pofted hence on serious matter. It was great ign’rance, Gloser's eyes being out, To let him live; where he arrives, he moves All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone, In pity of his misery, to dispatch His nighted life: moreover, to descry The strength o'th' enemy. Stew. I must needs after him, Madam, with my letter.