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Gift of
Mr, and Mrs* Donald H* Alden
STANFORD UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES
lAMA^/U^^jrht . ^^tdLu^
A NEW VARIORUM EDITION
OP
Shakespeare
EDITED BY
HORACE HOWARD FURNESS, Ph.D., LL.D.
HONORARY MBMBSR OF THB ' DBUTSCHB SMAXBSPBARB-GRSBLLSCMArT ' OF WBI1IA&
King Lear
[TENTH EDITION^
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
LONDON: 5 HENRIETTA STREET. COVENT GARDEN
Copyright, 1880, by J. B. Lippincott & Co.
Copyright, 1908, by Horace Howard Furnxss.
Wbstcott & Thomson, Lippxncott's Prbss,
Sttreotypers and EUctrotypers, Philada. PhUada.
TO
•THE NEW SHAKSPERE SOCIETY'
THIS VOLUME
IS
RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
BY
THE EDITOR
PREFACE
Smcs these volumes, containing separate plays, are independent of each other, it seems necessary that i^ statement of the plan on which they are edited should accompany each issue. This state- ment, however, in the present instance shall be as concise as pos- sible; it is to be presumed that those who are interested in this edition are, by this time, tolerably familiar with its scope.
The attempt is here made to present, on the same page with the text, all the various readings of the different editiAns of King Lear^ from the earliest Quarto to the latest critical edition of the play, together with all the notes and comments thereon which the Edi- tor has thought worthy of preservation, not only for the purpose of elucidating the text, but at times as illustrations of the history of Shakespearian criticism.
In the Appendix will be found essays on The Text, The Date OP CoMPOsmoN, The Soitrcx of the Plot, Duration of the AcnoN, Insanity, Actors, Costume, Tate's Version, selections from English and German Critiqsms, a list of The Editions Collated, with the abbreviations used to denote them, the Bibli* OGRAPHT of the Play, and an Index.
We have two sources for the text of Lear^ the Quartos and the Folios, both from independent manuscripts. Although we may not have in the Folio the very text, 'absolute in its numbers,' as Shake- speare ' conceived it,' yet with all its defects it is much better than that of the Quarto, which is evidently one of those 'stolne and sur- 'reptitious' copies denounced by Heminge and Condell. Wherefore, in this edition the text of the First Fouo has been virtually fol-
VI PREFACE
lowed, but withouti it is to be trusted, an absolute sunender to flhat ' modern Manicheeism, the worship of the Printer's deviL* Where the Folio is clearly defective the Quartos have been called in aid. Moreover, since the Quartos, 'maimed and deformed' though they be <by the frauds and stealthes of injurious impostors,* do never* theless contain lines, and even a whole scene, which do not appear in the Folio, but are nevertheless Shakespeare's, it has not been deemed fitting to omit these; they have been retained in the text and their presence indicated by asterisks, a modification of the Italic of the old editors, which is due to Dr Schmidt's admirable edition.
Happily, the day is feist declining when it is thought necessary to modernise Shakespeare's text Why should it be modernised? We do not so treat Spenser. Is Shakespeare's text less sacred? A step was made when 'it' was boldly retained instead of modern- ising the possessive case to its. In the present edition such words as *moe,' *and' (when it is equivalent to if)^ 'vilde,' 'strook,* and others, have been retained when found in the Folio. The ab« breviated 'th' has also been copied firom the same edition. It is a source of regret that it did not occur to the Editor, until too late, that the modem substitution of 'than,' for then of the Folio, is equally uncalled for, a substitution which shall not occur in future volumes of this edition.
My thanks are gladly given to Mr Norris for the Bibuografhy of English works; to my father, the Rev. Dr Furness, for his translations of German CRmciSMS; and to one other, without whose constant encouragement even this much of my long and at times most weary task would not have been accomplished;^ to her I am indebted for the Index. ^L H. F.
King Lear
DRAMATIS PERSONiE*
Lear, king of Britain.
King of France.
Duke of Burgundy.
Duke of Cornwall.
Duke of Albany. $
Earl of Kent.
Earl of Gloucester.
Edgar, son to Gloucester.
Edmund, bastard son to Gloucester.
Fool. «o
Curan, a courtier.
Old Man, tenant to Gloucester.
Doctor.
Oswald, steward to Goneru.
A captain employed by Edmund. 1$
Gentleman attendant on Cordelia.
Herald.
Servants to ComwalL
«L, ^ ELIA, J
GONERIL,
Regan, )- daughters to Lear. Cordelia,
Knights of Lear's train, Captains, Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants.
Scene: Britain.
♦ Dramatis Person;b] Substantially by Malone. First given by Rowe.
7. Gloucester.] Thus spelled by Staunton; all before him, Gxx»teb, or
Glo'ster.
14, 18. OswALD...Comwall.] Omitted by Rowe +.
18. CapcU reads thus: Servants to Cornwall, three. Officexs in the TVoop of Albany, four. Messengexs, two.
a
THE TRAGEDY
OP
King Lear
ACT I
Scene I. King Learns palace. Enter Kent, Gloucsster, and Edmiwd.
Kent I thought the king had more aflected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.
Glau. It did always seem so to us; but now, in the
Act i] Actus Primus. Ff. ceftcr Q,F,. Gloufter F,.
Scene i.] Scoena Prima. F,. Scsena Edmund.] Edmond. F,F.F,. Bafiard.
Prima. F^ Sccna Prima. F^F^. Qq.
King Lear's palace.] A Palace. Rowe. 2. Albany] Albtmy Q,.
The King's Palace. Theob. A State- Cornwall} Comwell Q,. Come*
room in King Lear's Palace. Cap. Ec. Vfall Q,. Comrtv all F^
Gloucester] F,. Glofter Q,F^. Glo- 3. so] Om. F.FjF^.
The Tragedy, &c.] 'Of all Shakespeare's plays/ says Coleridge, •Macbeth is the most rapid, Hamlet the slowest, in movement. Lear combines length with rapidity, — like the hurricane and the whirlpool, absorbing while it advances. It begins as a stormy day in summer, with brightness; but that brightness is lurid, and anticipates the tempest.'
1-6. Walker {Crit, i, 13) would read these as seven lines of verse, ending M' duke • . • always . . . division , » , d tA^ dukes • . • pciid [sic] • • • chnce • • • moiety, * After moiety^ he adds, < there is a short pause in the conversation, which is resumed in prose. Yet M' duke^ in this place, seems very unlike Sh. ; and tqualiiies is perhaps more in place than *' qualities." '
2. Albany] Wright: Holinshed {Chron. i, fol. 39 b; ed. 1577) gives the fol- lowing account of the origin of this name: 'The third and last part of the Island he allotted vnto Albanacte hys yotmgest sonne. • • • This later parcel at the first, toke the name of Albanactus, who called it Albania. But now a small portion onely of the Region (beyng vnder the regiment of a Duke) reteyneth the sayd
3
4 KING LEAR [act i. sc L
division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes 4
4. Idngdoni^ kingdonus Qq, Coll. i.
denominatioDt the reast beyng called Scotlande, or certayne Scottes that came ouer from Irdand to inhabite in those quarters. It is deuided from Loegres also by the .Humber, so that Albania as Brute left it, oonteyned all the north part of the Island that is to be found beyond the aforesayd streame, vnto the point of Cathenesse.'
4. division] Johnson: There is something of obscurity or inaccuracy in this preparatory scene. The king has already divided his kingdom, and yet when he enters he examines his daughters, to discover in what proportion he should divide it. Perhaps Kent and Gloster only were privy to his design, which he still kept in his own hands, to be changed or performed as subsequent reasons -should determine him. COLBRIDGS: It was not without forethought, nor is it without its due signifi cance, that the division of Lear's kingdom is in the first six lines of the play stated as a thing already determined in all its particulars, previously to the trial of profes« sions, as to the relative rewards of which the daughters were to be made to consider their several portions. The strange, yet by no means unnatural, mixture of selfish- ness, sensibility, and habit of feeling derived from, and fostered by, the particular rank and usages of the individual ; — the intense desire of being intensely beloved,— selfish, and yet characteristic of the selfishness of a loving and kindly nature alone;— the self-supportless leaning for all pleasure on another's breast ; — the craving after . sympathy with a prodigal disinterestedness, frustrated by its own ostentation, and the mode and nature of its claims ;— die anxiety, the distrust, the jealousy, which more or less accompany all selfish affections, and are amongst the surest contradistinctions I of mere fondness from true love, and which originate Lear's eager wish to enjoy his I daughters* violent professions, whilst die inveterate habits of sovereignty convert the wish into claim and positive right, and an incompliance with it into crime and j treason; — ^these facts, these passions, these moral verities, on which the whole I tragedy is founded, are all prepared for, and will to die retrospect be found implied, / in these first four or five lines of the play. They let us know that the trial is but a tricky and that the grossness of the old king*s rage is in part the natural result of a I silly tiick suddenly and most unexpectedly baffled and disappointed. It may here I be worthy of notice that Lear is the only serious performance of Shakespeare, the I interest and situations of which are derived from the assumption of a gross improba- / bility; whereas Beaumont and Fletcher's tragedies are, almost all of them, founded on some out-of-the-way accident or exception to the general experience of mankind. But observe the matchless judgement of our Shakespeare. First, improbable as the conduct of Lear is in the first scene, yet it was an old story rooted in the popular faith, — a thing taken for granted already, and consequently without any of the effects of improbability. Secondly, it is merely the canvas for the characters and passions,— j a mere occasion for, — and not, in the manner of Beaumont and Fletcher, perpetually ' recurring as the cause and sine qua non of, — ^the incidents and emotion!^. Let the , first scene of this play have been lost, and let it only be understood that a fond father had been duped by hypocritical professions of love and duty on the part of two daughters to disinherit the third, previously, and deservedly, more dear to him ; and all the rest of the tragedy would retain its interest undiminished, and be pet* feotly intelligible. The accidental is nowhere die groundwork of the passions, but tfiat which is catholic, which in all ages has been, and ever will be, close and native
ACT I, SC. i.] KING LEAR 5
he values most; for qualities are so weighed that curiosity 5 in neither can make choice of cither's moiety.
Kent Is not this your son, my lord ?
Glou. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge ; I have so often blushed to acknowledge him that now I am brazed to't 10
Kent I cannot conceive you.
Glou. Sir, this young fellow's mother could ; whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had indeed, sir, a son for her
5. qualities] Ff +, Knt, White, Sch. 10. to '/] FjF^+, Ec. Knt, Dyce, Slau equalities Q,Q, ct cet. too V F,F^ toitQ<\tX cct.
6. neither] nature Q,. 13. round-wombed] round womVdYL
to the heart of man, — parental anguish from filial ingratitude, the genuineness of worth, though coffined in bluntness, and the execrable vileness of a smooth iniquity. Perhaps I ought to have added the Merchant of Venice; but here too the same remarks apply. It was an old tale; and substitute any other danger than that of die pound of flesh (the circumstance in which the improbability lies), yet aU the situa- tions and the emotions appertaining to them remain equally excellent and appropriate. Whereas take away from the Mad Lover of Beaumont and Fletcher the fantastic hypothesis of his engagement to cut out his own heart, and have it presented to hb mistress, and all the main scenes must go with it. Hudson : The opening thus forecasts Lear's madness by indicating that dotage has already got the better of his reason and judgment. Anon (cited by Halliwell) thinks Johnson's note is need- less, because * it is clear that Lear's two councillors, Kent and Gloucester, are talking of the division he has proposed in the secrecy of the council-board, and afterwards he opens his hidden (** darker") meaning to those whom it concerned (his sons and daughters), before ignorant of it.'
5. qualities] Capell {Notes, &c., vol. i, part ii, p. 140) : 'Qualities' appears to be a printer's corruption ; both as suiting less with the context and as taking some- thing from the passage's numerousness. [What this ' numerousness ' exactly means I do not know. Capell does not print the passage as verse.] Schmidt (Zur Text- kritik, p. 12) : Equalities cannot be right here ; at best it can but be equality. Equal- ity cannot be predicated of a part by itself, but only of the relationship of parts to each other; it is therefore essentially a singular idea. We cannot say : 'the equal- ities of the three parts are perfect,' but only: • the equality,' &c.
5. cariosity] Warburton: • Curiosity ' for <^xtfr/«/ xrrK/my. Steevens: That is, scrupulousness or captiousness. [For the pronunciation, see I, ii, 4.]
6. moiety] Steevens : The strict sense of this is half one of two equal parts, but Sh. commonly uses it for any part or division. Thus, I Hen, IV: III, i, 96 :— ' Methinks my moiety north from Burton here In quantity equals not one of yours/ and here the division was into three parts. Wright : It may be in the present pas- sage the word is used in its literal sense, for it is not clear that Gloucester knew any- thing of Lear's intention to include Cordelia in the distribution of the kingdom.
7. your son] For Coleridge's fine remarks on Edmund, see Appendix, p. 419. 9. brazed] Compare Ham, III, iv, 37.
i»
6 KING LEAR [act I. scL
cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? 15
Kent I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.
Glou. But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account ; though this knave came something saucily into the world before he 20 was sent for, yet was his mother fair; there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.^ — Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ?
Edtn. No, my lord.
Glau. My lord of Kent Remember him hereafter as 25 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.
Glou. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall 30 again. \Sennet within^ The king is coming.
18. a son, sir] Ff+, Knt, Coll. Del. Rowe, Pope, Theob. Warb. fir;... Sing. Dyce,KtIy,Sch. fir af(mne()^fl^ fair; Cap. Ec. Wh.
«i>, a son Jen. et cet. 22. rvhoreson] horfon F,.
yearlyeares Qj, Han. 23. noble gentleman"] Nobleman FJF^
19. lAis] this is Jen. F^ + .
tAis,,.,aeeount;] Theob. fAis,,,. 24. Edm.] Bad. Qq (and througli-
account, Qq, Cap. Ec. tAis ;,.,account, F(, out) . Rowe, Pope. *tAis,,.,account, Johns. Jen. 25, 26. Afy^./riend.] Two lines, the
20. sonietAing\fomewAat F^F^ + , Jen. first ending Kent : in Ff + .
Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Coll. Del. Wh. 29. deserving] your deserving Pope
into] Q,Q. to Ff, Rowe, Pope, +.
Theob. Warb. Johns. Knt, Sch. i« Q,. 31. [Sennet within] Dyce ii, Huds. ii.
21. fir,,..fair] J tn. fir,,., /aire, Qq, Trumpets sound, within. Theob. Warb. Han. Warb. Johns. fir:,.,fiire, Ff, Johns. Jen. Om. QqFf.
17. proper] Malone: Comely, handsome.
18. some year] Warburton: Edmund afterwards [I, ii, S] speaks of 'some twelve or fourteen moonshines.* Eccles : About a year. [For other instances of the use of some before singular substantives of time, see Schmidt, Lex. s. v.]
20. something] For instances of sometAing, used adverbially, like 'somewhat,* see Abbott, §68.
30. out] Eccles : This circumstance serves to account fox Edmund's being un- acquainted with so distinguished a man at Lear's court as Kent ; indeed, for their mutual ignorance of each other. Gloucester appeaxs to introduce Edmund to Kent for the first time, and that, probably, immediately ailer his return, either from travel or serving in the army. [See also Colerizx;e*s note on Edmund in Appendix,
ACT I. sc. i.] KING LEAR 7
Senn^. Enter one bearing a coronet^ KiNQ Lear, CORNWALL, Albamt, G0NERIL9 Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants.
Lear. Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Glou- 32 cester.
Glou. I shall, my lord. [Exeunt Gloucester and Edmund.
Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. — Give me the map there. — Know that we have divided 35
In three our kingdom ; and 'tis our fast intent
Sennet.] Ff. Sound a Sennet, Q. ' [Exeunt...] Cap. Exit. Ff. Om.
Q,. Sunday a Comet, Q,. Qq.
Enter one bearing a coronet, 34. ihalt\ tuill Qq, Jen.
King...Attendants.] Enter King...At- purpose] purpofes Qq, Jen.
tendants. Ff. Enter one bearing a Cor- ^$, Give,, JAere,] TAe map /Aere ; Qi{,
onet, then Lear, then the Dukes of Cap. Mai. Be. Gwe.,»Aere, F^F^ .
Albany and Comwell, next Gonorill, JTnow /Aat} Xnaw Qq, rope+,
Regan, Cordelia, with foUoweis. Qq. Jen. Cam. Wr.
32. Scene ii. Pope + , Jen. Vfe have] wive Dyce ii, Huds. ii. the lords] my Lords Qq, Jen. 36. In] Into F^, Rowe. Gloucester] Om. Pope, Han. fast] first Qq, Warb. Om. Pope,
33. my lord"] Ff, Rowe, Sch. leige Han. Q,. Itege Q, et cet.
p. 420.] Wright: Edmund has been seeking his fortune abroad, there being no career for him at home in consequence of his illegitimate birth.
32. Burgundy] Walker ( Krrr. p. 240) says that the pronunciation Furgogne (as it is spelled in the last scene, in F,, in Hen. V) would restore harmony to this line. But Dyce, in a note on 2 Hen, VI: I, i, 7, says that Sh., like other early dram- atists, considered himself at liberty occasionally to disregard the laws of metre in the case of proper names ; e,g,z, blank-veise speech in Ruh, II: II, i, 284, con- tains the following formidable line : ' Sir John Norberry, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis Quoint.* [It is spelled Borgoyen in Paston Letters^ iii, 79, ed. Arber.]
32. Gloucester] Walker ( Vers. 236) : In the Folio this name is printed Glouf tester ^^ or Ghcesfer, in the stage-directions and titles of speeches ; Gloster, sometimes Gtouster, in the text ; in either case, with very few exceptions. I speak of all the plays in which the name occurs ; the distinction b least observed, perhaps, in Lear,
33. shall] For instances of the use of ' shall ' in the sense of / am bound to and lam sure to, and hence often used in the replies of inferiors to superiors, see Abbott, §315.
darker] Warburton: That is, more secret,' not indirect, oblique, Johnson: That is, we have already made known in some measure our desire of parting the kingdom; we will now discover what has not been told before, the reasons by which we shall regulate the partition. This interpretation will justify or palliate the exordial dialogue.
36. fast] Edwards {Can. of Crii. p. 91, ed. 1765) : That is, determined resolu- tion: first of the Qq must here signify * chiefs Staunton: * Fast intent,* signify- ing yfxA/, settled intent, is, VCiii<t ^ darher purpose' and * constant will,* peculiarly in Shakespeare's manner.
8 KING LEAR [ACTi.sci.
To shake all cares and business from our age, 37
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburthen'd crawl toward death. — Our son of Comwall|— *
And you, our no less loving son of Albany, 40
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now. The princes, France and Bur-
gundy, Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love. Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, 45
And here are to be answer'd. — ^Tell me, my daughters. Since now we will divest us both of rule. Interest of territory, cares of state, Which of you shall we say doth love us most? That we our largest bounty may extend 50
Where nature doth with merit challenge. — Goneril,
37. from eur age\ of ourftate Qq. 44. yoMngesf] yongefi F,. yctiger F^
Z^. Confrrri9tg\ Confirming Qii. younger T^^-^,
strengtAs,}yeares,(iq. 46, Tel^ me, my} TeU myFJF^. TiU
3S-43. wklie we.^now] Om. Qq. me, Pope+.
42. daughter^} Cap. Daughters F, 47, 48. Since^^tate,} Om. Qq. F^ Rowe-l-. Daughtef's F,F^. 48. cares} and cares Han.
43. nofw\ Om. Han. 51. lVkere...chattenge,'\ Where meru Mdy..,now.} One line, Coll. ii. doih mofi chaUenge it: Qq, Cap. Steer* The princes} The two great Var.
/Viii^jQq,Coll.ii. The Prince F^F^. S^S^ Goneri/,.,Jirst.} Ont\int,Qq.
40. Albany] For instances of polysyllabic names receiving but one accent at tbe end of lines, see Abbott, $ 469 ; and see also * Goneril,' line 51, and * Cordelia * III, i, 46, and elsewhere.
41. constant wiU] Johnson: Seems a confinnation of */»/ intent'
43. France and Burgundy] Moberly: King Lear lived, as the chronicle says, « in the times of Joash, king of Jndah.' In HI, ii, 95, Sh. himself jokes at this ex- travagant antiqaity ; and here he appears to imagine Lear as king in the rough times following Charlemagne, when France and Burgundy had become separate nations.
47. both] See Schmidt's Lex. s. v. for odier instances of « both ' being used with more than two nouns.
51. nature] Steevens: That is, where the claim of merit is superadded to that of nature ; or where a superior degree of natural filial affection is joined to the claim of other merits. Crosby {Epitome of Literature, 15 May, 1879): *With merit' I take to be an adverbial phrase equivalent to * deservedly;' and the verb to ihaUenge, in addition to its sense of to contend, or vie with, has an older and less common meaning— viz., to make title to, or claim as due, Chaucer thus uses it, in The Frankeleynis Tale [488, ed. Morris] : < Nat that I chalenge eny thing of right Of yow, my soverayn lady, but youre grace/ and Joye, Exposicion of Daniel, c 3 (quoted by
«jr«,sc.i.l KING LEAn 9
Our eldest-born, speak first 5^
G<m. Sir, I love you more than word can wield the matter,
53« Sir^ In aline by itself, Johns. you Far mon,„maiter : ioveyouCKp.
Dyce ii, Wh. Huds. ii. Beginning line 54. / loue\ I do love Qq, Jen. Cap.
54, QqFf et cet Erased in Coll. (MS.) Steey. Ec. Var.
53f 54« Sir^ /] As closing line 53^^ own/] Ff,Rowe,Knt,Del.i«Sch«
Steev. MaL Ec words Qq et cet.
Sir^ I^.maHer;\ I Uvi you itr^ wield'\weUd(i^^YJF^. yieidCA^
Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. Sir^ I do Ume oonj. (Var. Read, p. 20).
Richardson), ' God oftentymes by dere examples and bodely delyuerances chtUengetk to himself the glorye of his owne name.' In our own poet, too, cf. 5 Hm. VI: m, iii, 86: 'all her perfections chaUengi sovereignty;' IV, vi, 6 : 'Subjects may thattenge nothing of their sorereigns ;' IV, viii, 48 : ' These graces chaUengt grace;' and Otk. I, iii, 188: 'So mnch I challenge that I may profess due to the Moor, my lord '— t . /. claim at my right. Giving then this meaning to ' challenge,' the passage may be properly paraphrased, < where your natural relation to, and love for, me daim my bounty, by deserving ii; or, in other words, < that I may extend my largest bounty where your natural affection deservedly claims ii as due* There is no contention or challenge between < nature ' and ' merit,' in which theking's bounty is to be the prize; he offers it solely to ' nature,' claiming or demanding it on its own deserts. Uutia (p. 443) : These words cannot possibly have been meant seriously ; for apart from the circumstance that they contradict the facts adduced, Lear himself does not act in accordance with them, but does the very opposite. . . • Obviously, therefore, the whole demand was but a freak of the imagination, which Lear did not mean to take into serious consideration, but which it occurred to him to make mere- ly to fill up the time till the return of Gloucester, who had been despatched to fetch the duke of Burgundy and the king of France. The concealed motive of this freak, and its execution, was probably Lear's wish^ — by an open and public assurance of his daughters' love and piety, — to convince himself that his abdication could be of no danger ta himself, and that doubts about its propriety were unfounded. BUCKNILL (p. 174): That the trial is a mere trick is unquestionable; but is not the significance of this fact greater than Coleridge suspected ? Does it not lead us to conclude that from the first the king's mind is off its balance ; that the parti* tion of his kingdom, involving inevitable feuds and wars, is the first act of his devel- oping insanity; and that the manner of its parti^on, the mock-trial of his daughters' affections, and its tragical denouement is the second, and but the second, act of his madness.
51. Goneril] Mob£RLY: This name seems to be derived from 'Gwenar,' the British form of Vener (Venus). Regan is probably of the same origin as ' Rience/ in the Holy Grail; ' reian ' meaning in the Cornish ' to give bounteously.'
53. Sir] CoLLiKR (Noles^ &c., p. 449) : This is clearly redundant, and Regan soon afterwards commences her speech without it. It is erased in the (MS.). Walker {CrU. iii, 275) suggests, but thinks it sounds very harsh as one line : 'Our eldest-bom, speak first Sir, I do love you more,' &c Morerly, who follows the QqFf in arrangement, says that < Sir ' is hjrpermetric, and represents the time taken on the stage for a deep reverence. Schmidt {Zur TextkriHA) thinks that exple-
lO KING LEAR [act I. sa L
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty, 55
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare,
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour^
As much as child e'er loved or fiither found ;
A love that makes breath poor and speech unable ;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you. 60
Cor. [Aside] What shall Cordelia speak ? Love, and be silent
Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
55. tf«yj cr Qq. 58. found'] friend Qq.
58. much as\ much a Qq. 6i. [Aside] Pope. Om. QqFf«
^'^JRowc ^r/FjF^. ^^QqF, j;^^ /] Ff, Rowe, Knt, CoU. Del
Fg. i/<?, Qq. ^i?/ Popeet'cet
fives like this are in a large measure interpolations of the actois. Even at this day, he says, Englishmen are fond of introducing what they are about to say with such little words, which, like tuning-forks, gjye the key in which they intend to speak.
54. word] Kmight and Delius (ed. i) adopt word of Ff, and the latter justi- fies it by reference to III, ii, 81, 'more in word than matter;' the note, however, is omitted in his second edition* Dycb in both of his eds. ascribes word to Collier's first ed. It is not so in my copy of that ed. The repetition of the same phrase m the same play ought to be a sufficient authority, I should think, for adhering to^ word of the Ff, although, to be sure, a taint of spuriousness attaches to the lines in III, ii, 80. Under any circumstances, ' word ' is, to me, more truly Shakespearian than words. Ed.
55 « space] Wright : The limits within which motion is possible. Compare Ant. and CUop. I, i. 34. •• Rather,' says Schmidt {ad A?^.), *is "space," space m gen- eral, the realm of external appearances, the world; "eyesight" is the capaaty to comprehend it ; " liberty " the freedom to enjoy it The lack of natural filial affec- tion could not be more clearly manifested than in such exaggerations. Regan's " square of sense," line 73, affords a commentaiy on these words of Gonenl.'
60. 80 much] Johnson : Beyond all assignable quantity; I love you beyond limits, and cannot say it is so much, for how much soever I should name, it would yet be more. Wright : Beyond all these comparisons by which <}oneril sought to measure her love. Schmidt {ad loc.) thinks the phrase would have been clear at once had the old editions only used quotation-marks: 'beyond all manner of "so much" I love you.'
61. speak] Apart from authority, the choice of readings here seems to me to depend on whether we take ' Love ' and * be silent ' as infinitives or imperatives. If they are infinitives, we should read ' do ' with the Qq, but if imperatives, we should follow the Ff. I think they are imperatives, and I am supported by Schmidt (Zur Textkritik, p. 1 2). Moreover, Knight pronounces do of the Qq feeble, be* cause it destroys tiie force of the answer : < Love, and be silent J White and Dyce, on the other hand, assert that the answer.plainly shows that the Qq tjre right and the Ff wrong.
ACT I, sa L] KING LEAR 1 1
With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd.
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads.
We make thee lady. To thine -and Albany's issue 6$
Be this perpetual. — ^What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife of G)mwall ?
Reg. I am made of that self metal as my sister. And prize me at her worth. In my true heart I find she names my very deed of love ; 70
Only she comes too short : that I profess
63. skad9wy\ shady ^, 68. thai self mttal\ thai felfe-mettU
63, 64. and wih,.,rtuirs] Om. Qq. F,F,. that fdf-mitai F F^. the fel/e
63. champaiHs} Champions F.F^F^, fame mettall Q^. the/elfe-fame metiaU Rowe+. Q,.
64. widi'Shirtedl white'shirted Stocfn' as my sister} that myfifter is Qq, dale. Jen.
tS. thee lady"] the Lady Y^, 69. worth, /n...heari] worth. In
Albany s"] AlbainesQ^, Albanies ^.heart^ Ff. ttforth in,„heart, Qq.
Q;F,F^ AlbaenidsQy Albanies ¥^ tuorth, in...hear(, Theoh, + , worth, in
issue] ijfues Ff, Knt, Sch. ..Jieart Tyrwhitt
67. wife of] Ff + ,Kxit,Coll.Dyceii, 70-72. I find,, joys] Two lines, tlie Wh. Sch. wife to Q,Q, et cct. first ending short, Qq.
Cornwall f] Ff, Rowe, Knt,Dyce 71. conies too short] eamefhort Qq.
i, Sch. Com/well, fpeaket Q,. Com* short:] Theob. fhort, QqFf,
wall, fpeake. Q,. ComwaUt Speak. Rowe, Pope, Han. Coll. Del. Wh. Mob.
Pope et cit, Sch. x^<>r/,— Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Sing.
68. lam] Sir I am Qq, Jen. Wh. Dyce, Sta.
Pm Pope+. &>, Pm Dyce ii (with thai] in that Ktly.
Sir in a separate line).
63. cbampains] Wright: Plains. Compare Deut. xi. 30 (ed. 1611): <the Canaanites, which dwell in the champion ouer against Gilgal.' In Ezekiel xxxvii. 2, the marginal note to « valley • is « or, champian.' See Twelfth Night, II, v, 174, where it is spelt • champian * in the Ff 2 • Daylight and champian discovers not more.' In Florio we find, * Campagna, a field or a champaine.'
67. Dyce : F, omits * Speak ;' but Lear has concluded his address to Goneril with * speak first;* and he afterwards finishes that to Cordelia with 'speak.*
68. self] Compare *self mate and mate,' IV, iii, 34; and for many other in* stances of the use of thb word, meaning same, see Schmidt's Lex,
69. worth] Theobald: Mr. Bishop prescribed the pointing of this passage as I have regulated it in the text. [See Text-notes.] Regan would say that in the truth of her heart and affection she equab the worth of her sister. Without this change in the pointing, she makes a boast of herself without any cause assigned. Tyrwhitt paraphrases his punctuation : * And so may you prize me at her worth, ax in my true heart I find, that she names,' &e. Mason (p. 338) : I believe we should read: • i^nttyou at her worth ;' i, e, set the same high value on you that she does.
70. deed of love] Eocles : Describes that kind of agency by which my own love operates, — ^the same effects of which it is productive. Deliits : The formal, legal definition of love. Wright : That is, exactly describes my love.
12 KING LEAR [act i. sc. I.
Ms^self an enemy to all other yyys 72
Which the most precious 3quare of sense professes,
73. ifmarel spirit Han. 73. professes] Ff, Rowe, Sch. pcf*
square c/seme'jguimiesseneeBvl'' y^«rQqetcet lodu
71. too %hoti] MoBBRLY [sM Ttxt-notesJ : This means simply sJkcrt. Compare Homer's be rb fth Wjo T6aov ^vtf ^,— where rdaw is in the same way superflaous.
71. that] For in thiU ox for that, see Abbott, S2S4; Ham. I, ii, 2; H^ii, 153; Mact. ni, ii, 32. See also Whtib's note on I» i, 167.
73. square of tense] Warburton thinks this refers to the fonr nobler senses, sight, hearing, taste, and smeU, hut Johnson thinks it may mean only compass, com* prehmsion. Edwards [Canons of Crit, p. 170) : The full complement of all the senses. Holt [An Attempte, &c., 1749; Preface, p. v) : Sh. evidently intends to describe the utmost perfection of sense (aUuding to the Pythagorean Tenet, which held a square to be the most perfect figure). Cafbll : * Not only the extrayagancd of these sisters' professions, but the words they are dress*d in paint their hearts to perfection. In Regan's we have " felicitate,'' an affected expression, and before it a line that's all affectation; the governing phrase in it is borrow'd (as thinks the edi- tor) from some fantastical position of the rosycrudans or cabalists, who use it in the sense the ** Canons^* have put on it, for— "the complement of all the senses."' Mr. Smith (ap. Grey's Notes, Sec, 1754, 11, 102) thinks that * sense ' should be sens^^ because there were two squares referred to by Goneril ; ' the first was eye-sight, space, liberty, and what could be valued rich and rare ;' * the second square is grace, health, beauty, honour.' * But then Goneril says she loves the king no less than these, and consequently she loves these as much as she does the king. And this is the point in which Regan says she faUs short of her. The second square is of the superla- tive kind of joys, and Regan professes herself an enemy to three of the joys, viz. health, beauty, and honour; which are, of all the other joys, the most precious square of sense [i, e, sense's joys) possesses; and declares that his dear Highness' love is the only joy of the square which she values. In this it b plain that she outdoes her sister Goneril.' [I think that is worth transcribing as a curiosity. — Ed.] Collier {Azotes, &c., p. 449) : The (MS.) gives * sphere of sense,' which exactly coYiveys the meaning of Edward's explanation. Regan loved her father beyond all other joys in the round, or sphere, of sense. Singer reads sphere, and prefixes spacious instead of • precious.' Of both these emendations, Blackwood's Maga, (Oct. 1853) s*ys ^^ they are good as modernisations of Sh., but that the old text is quite intelligible ; < square' means compass, area [by which definition the present editor cannot see that any progress is gained]. White [Sh, Scholar, p<^423), while discarding sphere for < square,' thinks Singer's spacious is more plausible, and proposes, if change be made, ' spacious square,' but finds ' the original text comprehensible, with a smack of Sh. in it.' But by the time White published his ed. in 1861, the original text had become 'very obscure' to him, although he was 'by no means confident that it is corrupt,' adding that ' it seems to mean the entire domain of sensation.' As he does not in his ed. jrepeat his emendation, ' spacious square,' it is to be presumed he withdrew it. Keightley estimated it more highly; he adopted it Bailey (ii, 88) has ' not much doubt ' that Sh. wrote ' precious treasure of sense,' because ' pre- dous treasure ' occurs in Rom. and Jul,, I, i, 239. Objections to this emendation
ACT I. sc. L] KING LEAR I3
And find I am alone felicitate In your dear highness' love.
Car. [^J2^] Then poor Cordelia I 75
And yet not so, since I am sure my love's More ponderous than my tongue.
74. 75. And,.Uove\ One Unc, Qq. 76. loves'] Q,Ff, loues Q,,
74, aianel ol/omQ^. I*!, ponderous] Ff+, Jen, Ec. Knt,
75. [Aside] Pope. Om. QqFf. Del. Cam. Sch. richer (^ et cet //m* 75* 77* Tken.,Jongue,'\ Twolines,the Uous Coll. (MS.).
first ending/fir^, in Qq. my iomgue] their tongue Warb.
75. Cordelia] Cord. Q,.
on the score of metre there can be none, says Bailey, because treasure b * on occa* sion condensable into a monosyllable.' Hudson : That vi^ fulness or weaUh of sen* nbility or capacity of joy; so that the meaning seems to be : Which the finest sas« ceptibility, or the highest capacity of happiness, can grasp or take in. Wright i That is, which the most delicately sensitive patt of my nature is capable of enjoy« ihg. MoBBRLY: <The choicest estimate of sense,' as in Tro. and Ores. V, ii, 132^ *to square the general sex By Cressid's rule.' This definition by Moberly, ScHMmT (Zur Textkritik^ p. 12) thinks is the only one that approaches the truth. He himself says, the phrase in question means the < choicest symmetry of reason, the most nor* mal and intelligent mode of thinking.' Ryan's love is so great that she will know nothing of aU joys, which even a pattern of reason professes to be joys, such as, * eye-sight, space, liberty, life, grace, health, beauty, and honour,' which had jusi been extolled by her pattern sister.
73. professes] Schmuxt {Zur Textkritik^ p. 13) : To olject to a word because it occurs twice within two lines, appears to be, in the interpretation of Sh., a custom as ill-grounded as it is widespread, but from which, at aU events, the poet himself was free. [Whatever meaning or no-meaning we may attach to ' square of sense,' it seems clear to me that Regan refers to the joys which that * square' * professes' to bestow ; I therefore follow the Ff.— Ed.]
74. felicitate] Wright: That is, made happy. For instances of participles formed on the model of the Latin participles in -a/tui, compare ' consecrate ' ( TXf. And, I, i, 14), 'articulate' (i Hen, IV: V, i, 72), 'suffocate' (7><?. and Cres. I, iii, 125), • create ' {Mid, N. D, V, i, 412}. Abbott (§ 342) calls attention to the fact that this class of words, being derived directly from the Latin, stands on a different footing to those verbs ending in -Z^, •/, and -/^, which because of their already re* sembling participles in their terminations, do not add ^ed in the participle. Se« Walker \Crit, ii, 324) ; Mach, III, vi, 38; Ham, I, ii, 20. "^
77. ponderous] White: < More ponderous' of the Ff may possibly be a mis* print for ' vaxxt precious,* Wright thinks it ' has the appearance of being a player's correction to avoid a piece of imaginary bad grammar;' but I do not think we should desert a durior lectio but for a reason ' more ponderous ' than this. SCHMIDT {ad loc,) says, with shrewdness, ' Light was the usual term applied to a wanton, friv. olous, and fickle love ; " light o' love " was a proverbial expression. But the oppo* site of this, heavy^ could not be here employed, because that means uniformly, in 1^ moral sense, melancholy, sad; nor is weighty any better; therefore Sh. chose "pon^ derous."'
14 KING LEAR [ACT I, SC. L
Lear. To thee and thine, hereditary ever, Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom. No less in space, validity, and pleasure, 8o
Than that conferr'd on Goneril. — Now, our joy. Although our last and least, to whose young love
8i« wnfm^d^ confimid Qq* Steev. Ktly, Hnds. ColL ixi. ikt laft^ j»0/ Qq
Vaf . et cct
N9w\ hut now Qq. Sa. Uast^Jm>i\ Uaft :..JUve^ Ff. Uaft \
82. our iaa andl Ff, Rowe, Knt, m our detre love^ Qq, Cap. least; in
Coll. i, Dd. i. Sing. Wh. Sch. our last, vtkose young love Han.
not Pope +, Jen. Dyoe ii, Sta. Del. ii, to'\ in Qniiicy (MS.). J
80. validity] For instances of ' validity,* meaning vatui^ see Schmidt's Z/x. j
t. ▼; see also Ham. HI, ii. 179. •
82. last and least] In his Life of Shakespeare (Var. '21, vol. ii, pp. 276-278), /
Malonb giyes many instance^ to prove that last not least was a formula common in !
Shakespeare's time, and b always applied to a person highly valned fay the speaker. Stesvbns refers to King Leir's reply to Momford in the old ante-Shakespearian |
play. [See Appendix, p^ 401.] Malone adds from The Spanish TV-agedy^ written ;
before 1593 : * The third and last, not least, in our accotmt.' Dycb pronounces the reading of Ff, * last and least,' a flagrant error; and Staunton says it can scarcely |
be doubted that it is a misprint, and to the examples already given and referred to, adds the following: <The last, not least, of these brave brethren '—Peele's Poly* *
hymnia, * Though I speak last, my lord, I am not least' — Middleton's Mayor of Queenborough I, iii. And 'my last is, and not least,' — Beau. & Fl., Monsieur ThoTnas III, i. White [see Text-notes] : Plainly this jnssage was rewritten before the Folio was printed. The last part of line 82, as it appears in the Qq, shows that the figurative allusion to the king of France and the duke of Buigundy could have formed no part of the passage when that text was printed. And in the rewriting j
there was a happy change made from the commonplace of < last not least,' to an allusion to the personal traits and family position of Cordelia. The impression pro- duced by all the passages in which she appears or is referred to is, that she was her '
father's little pet, while her sisters were big, bold, brazen beauties. Afterwards, in I
this very scene, Lear says of her to Burgundy : < If aug^t within that little seeming *
substance, or all of it, with our displeasure pieced^ &c When she is dead, too, her father, although an infirm old man, < fourscore and upward,' carries her body in his arms. Cordelia was evidently the least, as well as the youngest and best beloved, of the old king's daughters; and therefore he says to her, < Now our joy, what can you say to justify Ihy intention of giving you the richest third of the kingdom, although you are the youngest bom and the least royal in your presence?' The poet's every touch upon the figure of Cordelia paints her as, with all her firmness of character, a creature to nestle in a man's bosom,— her father's or her husband's, — I
and to be cherished almost like a little child; and this happy afterthought brings the picture into perfect keeping, and at the very commencement of the drama impresses |
upon the mind a characteristic trait of a personage who plays an important part in it, although she is little seen. Hudson : I find it not easy to stand out against j
White's argument in favour of the Ff; still, the phrase * though last, not least,' ap- pears to have been so much a favorite with the poet, and withal so good in itself.
ACT I, sal] KING LEAR 1$
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy 83
Strive to be interess'd, what can you say to draw
83,84. Tki,...,Jnt€ris^d'\ Om. Qq» 84,85. ^Ai/...<^«A»i/] One line, Qq,
Cap. Cap.
84* inUresfdl Jen. iniereft Ff, Sch. 84. €anyouiay\ si^ youVopt-k-.
mfrai Pope. ItWris^d Theob. + . draw] win Qq, Cap. Jen.
that I feel constrained to read with the majority of the editors. Schmidt (Zur Textkriiik da King Lear, p. 13), in following out hb theory that in die Qq we baye merely a comxpt text taken down from the stage representation, repudiates the
* last, not least,* here, and shrewdly suggests that since the same phrase occurs in yul. Gcr. Ill, i, 189, the actor who took the part of Antony in that play also acted Xear, and the phrase once learned by heart was repeated by him in Lear^ where it does not belong. * But let one put himself in the place of Lear, and there will be felt in this *< last and least " a tender touch of Nature. Our unser Letztes und Kleinstes gives the meaning certainly, but not quite wholly ; « least " means the youngest child, because there had been less of formal ado made over her, because in many a f<6te and state occasion, in which the elder sisters took part, she had not had any share, and yet was the joy and " object " of her father, as the youngest child is always die favorite of the father, the eldest of the mother.' [If Hudson finds it not easy to stand out against White's argument, I find it impossible. White is at his happiest in detecting subtle, delicate touches, and when, as in thb instance, he is in accord with the Folio, I yield at once, and will merely add that if Malone and Staunton can prove that
* last, not least,' was a hackneyed phrase in Shakespeare's time, it is all the more reason why it should not be used here. Its very opposition to the common use and wont makes it emphatic. — Ed.]
83. miUc] EccLES : The pastures of Burgundy, the eflfect for the cause. Mober- LT : In ascribing vines to France, and not to Burgundy, Sh. may have thought of the pastoral countries of Southern Belgium as forming part of Burgundy (as they did till the death of Charles the Bold, 1477), otherwise we should not understand the distinction; as in the French Burgundy wine-growing was of very old standing; the arms of Dijon and Beaune have a vine upon them, and a great insurrection of ▼ine-dressers took place there in 1630. — Michelet, IUst^ de France^ ii, 303.
84. interess'd] Stsbvens : So in the Preface of Drayton's Pofyolbion : *— there is scarce any of the nobilitie or gentry of this Umd, but he is in some way or other by his blood interessed therein.' Again in Jonson's Sejanus III, i: *The dear re- public, our sacred laws, and just authority are interess'd therein.' Wright: For the form of the word, see Cotgrave (Fr. Diet) : ' Interess6 . . . Interessed, or touched in ; dishonoured, hurt, or hindered by,' &c. See also Massinger, 7^ Duke of MiUm^ I, i : ' The wars so long continued between The emperor Charles, and Francis the French king, Have interess'd in either's cause the most Of the Italian princes.' And Florio (Ital. Diet.) : * Interessare, to interesse, to touch or conceme a mans maine state or fee-simple, to conceme a mans reputation ;' and < Interessato, interessed, touched in state, in honour or reputation.' Again in Minshen (Span. Diet.) ; ' In- teressado, m. interessed, bauing right in.' For other instances of verbs of which the participial form has become a new verb, compare ' graff,' ' hoise,' which appear in modem speech as « graft,' « hoist.' Schmidt mainUins that < interest ' of the Ff is the contracted past participle interested^ formed on the analogy of < felicitate,' line 73, &c, and that there is no such verb as intereue or interest in Sh.
I6 KING LEAR [Acri.8aL
A third more opulent than your sisters ? Speak. 85
Cor. Nothing, my lord
Lear. Nothing?
Cor. Nothing.
L^ar. Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again.
Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave 90
My heart into my mouth. I love your majesty According to my bond ; no more nor less.
85. opuUni'l opUitU F,. 89. Nothing wiU] Now, notkittgtam your\ ycur two Cap. Qq. Nothing can Cap. Jen.
Speak] Om. Qq, 0^>. 90-92. Unhappy...Uss,'] Prose, Qq.
87, 88. Lear. Nothing f Cor. No- 90. heave] have QjFjF^.
thing,"] Om. Qq. Lear. Nowi Cor. 92. no more] Ff -f » Knt, Sch. nor
Nothing. Cap. more Qq et cet
86. Nothing] Colbudgx: There is something of disgust at the ruthless hypoo* tisy of her sisters, and some little faulty admixture of pride and suUenness in Cor- ddia's * Nothing;' and her tone is well contrived, indeed, to lessen the glaring absurdity of Lear's conduct, but answers the yet more important puxpose of forcing away the attention from the nurseiy-tale the moment it has served its end, that of supplying the canvas for the picture. This is also materially furthered by Kent's opposition, which displays Lear's moral incapability of resigning the sovereign power in the very act of disposing of it Kent is» perhaps, the nearest to perfect goodness in all Shakespeare's characters, and yet the most individualized. There is an extra- ordinary charm in his bluntness, which is that only of a nobleman, arising from a contempt of overstrained courtesy, and combined with easy placability where good* ness of heart is apparent His passionate affection for, and fidelity to, Lear act on Jtmt feelings in Lear's own favour ; virtue seems to be in company with him.
91. majesty] Adissyllable* See Ara^.III,iv, 2; Walker, Vers. 174; Abbott, $468.
92. W. W. Lloyd: The crudity of manners expressed in Lear's solicitation of flattery has its natural counterpart in the almost sullen and repulsive tone of the virtue which preserves Cordelia from the degradation he would tempt her to. The progress of the story required a reply that should provoke the indignation of her father, and yet not cause her to forfeit our esteem. • • « . Moreover, Sh., it appears to me, designed to convey, by the very terms and rhythm of the speeches of Cor* delia, an impression that her speech was usually reserved and low and laconic, and thus that the very faculty was foreign to her that might have enabled her to effect the same result for her own dignity with milder method. Certain it is, and it is suf* ficiently declared in the sequd of the scene, that she took too little thought for the fact that her disinheriting was a greater misfortune to her father than to herself, an4 that to prevent it for his sake were worth incurring some misconstruction; this thought necessarily arises from the terms in which she commends her father, whose weakness she had not had the skill to humour honorably, to the sisters, whose natures she knows too well not to foresee their course, even without the irritation which the same weakness was sure to give occasion and welcome pretext for. This, then. Is the incongruity of the social state on which the tragic action of the play depends |
ACTLsaL] KING LEAR l?
Lear. How, how, Cordelia ? mend }^ur speech a litde, 93 Lest you may mar your fortunes.
Gm, Good my lord.
You have begot me. bred me, loved me ; I 95
Return those duties back as are right fit,
93. Baw^Jkow, Cordelia f\ Gptto^goe Ktly, Sch. t/ Qq et oet ^»Q^tCq». Gotoo^gotoo^Q^ 9S»S^» L.^t} One line in QqFr,
mind'} mind nu Cvp, Rowe.
94. jfMi] Ff+,Kiit,ColLDel.Dycei, S^-J^A^Qy
tnd when Lear enters mad in the last scene, with Cordelia dejid in his arms, we have but the fulfilment for either of the fate they equally provoked; we behold the com- mon catastrophe of affection too mnch qualified hy nnreasonable anger on one side, and unaccommodating rigour on the other. Raff {EhUiUmng tnr Uebemtna^^ Stuttgart, 1843): The elder sisters are vulgar, selfish natures; Cordelia is not so vulgar, although possessed of a pride and obstinacy not unusual. When Diogenes marched up and down in the brilliant rooms of Flato, saying : * I tread upon the pride of Plato,' «Yes,* replied Plato, «with greater pride.' That is just the case with Cordelia. She is proud of being in the right, in contrast with her vulgar sis* ters, and this feeling she opposes to her sisters and to her old father. The weak old father has a right to a few flattering expressions from a loving child, because be needs them.- She offers him, on the contrary, what he cannot bear, the truth. A woman, whose nature is love, and who is straitlaoed for truth, is a doubly perverted creature. Truth and Love are completely antipodal ; what else is love for an indi- 1 vidual but the taking of a finite object for an infinite, and worshipping it as such? 1 Thus, love is essentially a lie, not a truth, and Cordelia misbehaves like her sisters* | only in a different way, by egoism and lovelessness. One for whom she cannot tell i a little lie, she does not love as she should. On this fine ground, which the poet has I laid very close to us, now rests the whole piece. ^
93. bond] EOCLBS : What I am bound to by duty.
94. iiuq, Mobbrly: Slk, with wonderful naturalness, makes the shy and xt* served Cordelia ipeak, when her £edse position is forced upon her, with a passion that will not stopio choose condliatoiy expressions, and whidi makes up by vehemence, and what sounds like petulance, for the weakness of the argument which she ia driven to use, as she cannot reveal the truth which she knows.
95. begot] Wright: Sh. (see Mer, of Fen. Ill, ii, 65; II, U, 37) uses both forms of the participle * begot ' and * begotten.' In the Authorised Version the lat* ter only occurs.
96. those •••«•] Abbott, $ 584, dtes this line as containing an ellipsb, simi« lar to that in Jfacb, III, iv, 138: * Returning were as tedious as (to) go o'er,' and gives it thus, in full : < Return those duties back as (they) are right fit (to be returned),' adding, *At can scarcdy be [h.ere] taken for which.* It appears to me, neverthe- less, that it may be here readily taken for whieh^ and so become an apposite instance imder Abbott's $ 280, and parallel with Liar I, iv, 56 : * with thai ceremonious affec- tion oi Jim were wont' Thus; * Return ihose duties back [which] are right fit— ▼b: Obey,' &c Wright is also, i^yparently, of this opinion; but Mobbrly says that the plural* are 'Is used by attraction to the word * duties,' as va£&n. K.-V,ii,
3* B
i8 * KING LEAR [act i. sa L
Obey you, love you, and most honour you. 97
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
They love you all ? Haply, when I shall wed.
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall cany 100
Half my love with him, half my care and duty.
Sure, I shall never many like my sisters,
* To lovQ my father all. *
Lear. But goes thy heart with this ?
Cor. Ay, my good lord.
Lear. So young, and so untender? 105
Car. So young, my lord, and true.
Lear. Let it be so ; thy truth then be thy dower; For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
98, 99. Why»Mf\ One line, Qq. Hereafter, lines thus indnded between
9S-102. Why.,..»jnev€r\ Pour lines, astemks are found only in the Qq.
ending aU,„Jutnd,»,him^.,neu€rQc{. 104. thy heart with thuf\ this with
99. Ilapiy'] Happtly Q,. Happily Ff . thy heart t Qq> MaL Steer. Bos. ColL
wed^ wed, FJFy Ay, mygood^ I mygoadFf-^f
102. marry] Mary Q,. Cap. Jen. Knt, CoU. Del. Wh. Ktly, Sch. 102,103. marry.,„MUJ] Pope. One IgoodmyC^. Ay^goodmy}A9l,fiOflL
line,Qq. 107. Lef] WeiiletQfi.
103. 7I?...ai7.] Om. FT, Rowe, Sdu thy tnah] the truth FjF^.Rowt.
18 ; and that the phrase should be ' as is right fit,' as, indeed, KsiGHTLBYhad already so printed it in his text
104. et seq. Seymour here and in many other places sAends the rhythm, which he finds harsh. I do not record his suggestions, which are put forth with assurance, and consist mainly in a free exdsion of Shakespeare's words and in & free insertion of his own. Some commentators seem to think that Shakespeare co«ild write neither poetry nor sense. — Ed.
107. BucKNJLL (p. 176) : [This curse] is madness, or it is nothing. Not indeed raving, incoherent, formed mania, as it subsequently displays itself, but exaggerated passion, perverted affection, enfeebled judgment, combining to form a state of men- tal disease— incipient, indeed, but still disease — in which man, though he may be paying for past errors, is during the present irresponsible.
108. son] Capell: The oaths given to Lear are admirable for their solemnity, and are taken from out the creed of his times as fables have given it; he is made the builder of -Leicester (Leir Cestre, Saxonici)^ and a temple of his erection is talk'd of to yanus Bifrom; so that as weU his * Hecate' here, as his ApoUo and Jupiter afterwards, are consonant to his imputed religion, whatever comes of his true ; to which, in likelihood, his address before * Hecate ' has a nearer affinity. Mo- BBRLY : The Druidical gods are, according to Caesar (Bell, Gall, vi, 17), Apoflo, Mars, Jove, and Minerva. Lear*s two oaths, by Apollo and Jupiter, are therefore historically accurate; so is his swearing by Night, as (c. 18} *GalU se onmes ab Dite patre prognatos prsedicant,' and by Hecate, as a temple of Diana once occu- pied the place of the present St. Paul's in London. (Palgrave's Anglo-Saxons^ p. 51.)
ACTl,SC.i.] KING LEAR 1 9
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;
By all the operation of the orbs IIO
From whom we do exist and cease to be ;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care.
Propinquity, and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian, 115
Or he that makes his generation messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
Be as well neighboured, pitied, and relieved,
As thou my sometime daughter. Kent Good my liege,—
Lear. Peace, Kent! 120
109. fny5terus\miftreffe^, mi/eries 116, 1 17. Or,,..Mppetite^ Two lines, F,. the fiist' ending generation^ Qq.
Heeate'\ HeccatQqF,. HecatF^ I17, Il8. shall to my bosom Be'\ Shalt
night"] might Qq. bee Qq.
110. operation'} operations FJFJF^+, 1x9. liege, — ] Hege-^Kcfwe, Liege. Cap. Jen. Steev. Ec. Var. Huds. QqFf,
115. J/otd] I/ouUQ^, 120, 121. Peace..,wrath.] One line,
ever. The] ever, the Qq. Qq.
—
109. Hecate] Wright : This word is a dissyUable in Mid. N. D. V, i, 391 ; Maeb. II, i, 52; III, ii, 41 ; III, v, I ; and Ham. Ill, ii, 246. It is a trisyllable only in i Hen. VI: III, ii, 64, a significant fact as regards Shakespeare's share in that play.
I to. operation] Delius : The effect upon the life or death of mortals. Wkigrt : Thi% belief in planetary influence is in keeping with the speech of Edmund in the next scene.
113. property] Delius: A stronger expression of the idea contamed in 'propm* quity.' Wright : Rising, as it were, to identity of blood. Schmidt calls attention to this solitary instance in Sh. of this word in the sense of ownership and also of * propinquity.'
115. from this] Stesvens: That is, from this time.
115. barbarous] See Abbott, §468, for the contraction of this and similar words in pronunciation ; likewise ' nursery,' in line 122.
115. Scythian] Wright: Purchas, in h» Pilgrimage (ed. i6i4,p. 396), says, after describing the cruelties of the Scythians: • These customes were generall to the Scythians in Europe and Asia (for which cause Scytharum facinora patrare, grew into a prouerbe of immane crueltie, and their Land was iustly called Barbarous) ; others were more speciall and peculiar to particular Nations Scythian.'
116. generation] Capell: His children, what he has generated. Wright: The word in this sense of offspring is familiar from Matthew, iii. 7 : * O generation of vipers.'
1x9. sometime] For instances of the use of this in the sense of * formerly/ fee Schmidt. Lex. s. ▼
20 KING LEAR [ACTl,saL
Come not between the dragon and his wrath. 121
I loved her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery. — Hence, and avoid my sight! —
So be my grave my peace, as here I give
123. andl Om. Pope+.
[To Cor. Rowe +, Jen. Steer. Ec Var. Knt, Wh. HaL
121. dragon] Mobe&ly: A natonl trope for Leu- to use, as, like Arthur, he would wear a helmet {^Idylls of the King, p. 256) : * On which for crest the golden dragon clung For Britain.' [See Godwin on helmets. Appendix, p. 449.]
121. wrnth] Capell: His wrath's object
122. set my rest] Wright : A phrase from the game of cards called primero, used in a double sense. Metaphorically, * to set one's rest ' is to stake one's alL Literally in the game of primero it signifies < to stand upon the cards in one's hand/ Por an example of the metaphorical sense, see Bacon's Essay xxix, p. 128 (ed. Wright) : « There be many Examples, where Sea-Eigkts have beene Finall to the wane; But this is, when Princes or States, have set up their Rest, vpon Battailes.' [See the notes, in this edition, on Jiom» 6* yul. IV, v, 6. Elsewhere in Sh. the phrase is uniformly, I think, < to set up.' — Ed.]
123. Hence, etc.] Heath: These words are undoubtedly addressed to Kent; for in the next words Lear sends for France and Burgundy, in order to tender to them his youngest daughter. At such a time, therefore, to drive her out of his pres- ence would be a contradiction to his declared intention. Jennens ably maintains Jthat this is addressed to Cordelia, in so far as she had just raised her father's anger ^o the highest pitch, while Kent, the extent of whose opposition was thus far quite unknown, had been simply warned not to come between the dragon and his wrath. When Kent interposed a second time, Lear warned him a second time to make from the shaft Kent emboldened, then uses rougher language; Lear passionately ad* jures him, * on thy life, no more ;' Kent persists, and Lear bids him for the fiist time * out of my sight.' Kent further entreats, Lear swears ; Kent returns the oath, and then Lear banishes him. This- natural gradation in Lear's anger towards Kent, thus contrasted with his instant rage against Cordelia, whom he loved so deeply and who had wounded him so bitterly^ Jennens thinks is one of the most beautiful in all Shakespeare. Malone thinks that the inconsistency noted by Heath is perfectly suited to Lear's character, and therefore that this sentence is addressed to Cordelia* Deuus adopts Heath's reasons for believing these words were addressed to Kent, and adds that Cordelia, both before and after them, is spoken of in the third person* White : These words most probably are addressed to Cordelia; yet it may be rea* sonably urged that Cordelia does not go out, as she would be likely to do upon such a command ; and that although Kent has merely broken in with * Good, my liege,—' Lear is choleric and unreasonable enough to hound him from his presence upon such slight provocation. Hudson : Perhaps the true explanatioa is, that Lear an* ticipates remonstrance from Kent, and, in his excited mood, flares up at any offer of that kind. Wright : After the king, in reply to Kent's interruption, had justified his conduct, he could scarcely order him from his sight. [If any critic of less weight than Heath had started thb question, I doubt if it would have been ever discossed.— • Ed.]
ACri,SC.L] KING LEAR 21
Her fether^s heart from her 1— Call France. Who stirs? Z25
Call Burgundy. — Cornwall and Albany^
With my two daughters' dowers digest the third.
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power.
Pre-eminence and all the laige efie£ls IJO
That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course^
With reservation of an hundred knights
By you to be sustained, shall our abode
Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain
The name and all th' addition to a king ; 135
125. herl-^CaUFrtmce.l ColL hir; nence QqFf +» Cap. Steev. Ec
€aU France, Q^f +• i/r, tall France 134. /KmJF^F^^RoweyXjityDeLSclu
Q,. JkiT. Call France : Cap. turm F,F,. tuma Qq et ceL
126. ^«/3Wff^.-p]Theob. Burgun^ we shall] Ff, Rowe, Steer. Ec. i^r— Rowe, Pope. Burgundy, QqFf. Knt, DeL Sch. Cm. Pope-h. «v Cap.
[Exitan Att. Cap. Exit Edmund. wejlill Qq et cet.
Cap. conj. (MS.).* I3S. 136. The name^.rea,'] The first
127. dmaghtn^ dowers] Waib. line eads/wayp Ff, Rowe, Cap. Daughters Demres F^F^^* daughters 135. name and.,Jking;..,0f the res^ 4«wer Qq. Daughters^ Dawres F^ name; iul„MHg, office^ Theob. (Niclh daughters dtfwers Rowe, Pope, Theob. ols's Lit. Hist, ii, 369) conj. (with- Han. drawn).
/l^]Ff+,Bo8.Knt,Coll.DeL a#ufa//] OnuCap.
DyceiyWluSch. MixQqetcet A&ft^^]Ff+, Cap. Steer. S&f.
129. with] in Qq. Ktly, Sch. additions Qq et cet. Ija Pre-eminence] Jen. Prehum^
125. Who stirs ?] Dsuus interprets this as a threat, to terriiy into silence any chance opposition on the part of the bystanders. Moberly : The courtiers seem UKwilling to obey s command so reckless. [May it not be that the circle of cour* tiers are so horror-struck at Lear's outburst of fory, and at Cordelia's sudden and impending doom, that they stand motionless and forget to move? This is one of Shakespeare's touches, like old Capulet's calling Juliet *yoa tallow-face/ to be in- terpreted by reading between the lines.«-ED.]
128. marry] Deuxjs: That is, provide a husband for her.
129, 138. W. W. Lloyd: It is apparent that Lear must long have put the sill- cerest afiection to the sorest trials, and tasked the endurance even of sordid self- interest, and now he manifests undiminished appetite for the coarser luxury of sway at the very moment he releases unwilling purveyors from their bondage. The re« served train of one hundred knights, and the alternate visits he proposes, prove that in a most important respect he contemplates no abdication at all, but expects to ob- tain still, on the strength of obligation, more than all he had exacted so gallingly by the force of his regal power and dignity.
130. effects] Wright: Used, apparently, of the outward attributes of rpyaltyt everything that follows in its train. See I^ iv, 176.
22 KING LEAR [act i. sc. i.
«
The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, 136
Beloved sons, be yours ; which to confirm,
This coronet part between you. Kent. Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Loved as my father, as my master followed, 140
As my great patron thought on in my prayers, — Lear. The bow is bent and drawn ; make from the shaft Kent. Let it &11 rather, though the fork invade
The region of my heart 1 Be Kent unmannerly,
When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man? 14$
136. Thtsway\ Separate line,Steev. 141. As my greaf[ As my F,F 1<^.
Bos. Knt, Dyce. And as my Rowe, Pope, Theob. Han.
of the resf] Om. Pope, Theob. Warb. Coll. (MS.).
Han. and tAt rest Cap, [offers it. (a prayers, — 1 prayers — Rowe +•
stage direction) Anon.* prayers. Q.FjF^. praters. Q,F,F,.
12!&. Mtoeen] betufixi Qq» Glo. + f l^, drawn'\ drawen (l^.
Mob. 143-153. Lei it.,..,hollowness1 Lines
[Giving the crown. Pope+. tnd.ratker,.,.heart,,„mad^.,.duiy.„bawes,
[in AdUon of preventing hinu fi^yt confideraiion life, Uaft,,...
Cap. Ec. found. .,Jiollownes Qq.
139. myJnngl aJkin^F^fKowttTope. 145. mad] man Q,.
140. mastei^ maijler Q,. wouids/] wouldeft F^F^F,. wiU folUndd^ followed Qq. Qq.
133. shall] Wright : Here used in the ordinary future sense, as if it had been preceded by ' we,* with perhaps something of the idea of fixed intention.
135. ftddition] External observance. See II, ii, 22; Macb, I, iii, 106 ; III, i, 99 ; Ham, I, iv, 20.
136. of the rest] Warburton reads ' of th' Hest,* because Hest is an old word for regal command. Heath proposed to substitute interest, which will signify the legal right and property. Jennens : It is most likely Sh. wrote all the rest, John* SON : The phrase means, I suppose, the execution of all the other business.
138. coronet] Dsuus thinks that this does not refer to Lear's own crown, that k among the things which he retains, but he delivers to his sons-in-law, who remain dukes after as well as before this transaction, a smaller ducal crown. Elsewhere Sh. accurately distinguishes between a crown and a coronet, see Temp. I, ii, 1 14 ; Hen. V: II, Chor. 10. Wright thinks that there can be no such dislinction here; while Schmidt agrees with Delius.
143. fork] Wriqkt: Ascham says, in his ToxopkUus (p. 135, ed. Arber), that Pollux describes two kinds of arrow-heads: « The one he calleth hyKcvo^, descrybynge it thus, hauyng two poyntes or barbes, lookyng backewarde to the stele and the fethers, which surely we call in Englishe a brode arrowe head or a swalowe tayle. The other he calleth yh^xk* hauyng .ii. poyntes stretchyng forwarde, and this Eng- lysh men do call a forkehead.'
X45. What] Capell: This is spoke on seeing his master put his hand to his sword.
ACT i» s& L] KING LEAR 23
Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak, 146
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour^s bound,
When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state,
I
147. lVheH,..^Jbomid^ Johns. Two Johns. Jen. Knt, Del. Dyce, Sch. U lines, Ff, Rowe. When^Aonour^ one folfy falls Pope, Theob. Han. Warb line. Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. Jloops to folly Qq et cet
hoHow^t\ Amours Qq. honour 148. folfy^l Johns. foBy; Rowe.
Is Vope, Theob. Han. Warb. folly, QqFf.
147-149. Lanes end honour,.falls.^ Reserve thy state"] Ff 4-, Knt,
eheeh Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. Del. Sing. Dyce i, Sch. Itekerfe thy
14S. falls to folly] Ff. [fall F,)Rowe, ^oome Qq etcet.
I47< A trimeter couplet, see Abbott, S 501.
148. majesty] A dissyllable. See I, i, 9a
148. Reserve thy state] Johnson : I am indtned to thmlc that Reverse thy doom was Shakespeare's first reading, as more apposite to the present occasion, and that he changed it afterwards to * Reserve thy state,* which conduces more to the progress of the action. Dklius defends the Ff, because Lear's surrender of his royalty proved subsequently, more fatal to him than the unjust doom pronounced on Cordelia* Whttb cannot r^;ard the text of the Ff as other than ' an accidental variation, be- cause Kent makes no attempt to induce Lear to abandon lus design of dividing his kingdom and abdicating his throne; he simply pleads for Corddia. Between re* verse and ** reserve," the difference is only the transposition of two letters; and that change once made by accident, the other would naturally follow by design.' In N^ 6* Qu, 5th Ser. ▼, 444, W. A. B. Cooudge argues agdnst intexpreting < doom' by destiny [which I think no one but the critic himself ever did so interpret. Kent U such a noble fellow, that we who know Cordelia's truthfulness and honesty, and have heard her words spoken aside, cannot but think that, he b here pleading het cause. But I am afraid we are too hasty. Kent is pleading not for Cordelia, but for Lear himself; he has not as yet made the slightest allusion to Cordelia. When Lear denounces her, Kent, who sees that Lear is crushing- the only cfhance of future happiness, starts forward with * Good my liege ;' but before he can utter another word Lear interrupts him, and interprets his exclamation as an intercession for Cordelia: and we fall into the same error, so that when Kent speaks again we keep up the same illusion, whereas all that he now says breathes devotion to the king, and to no one else. The folly to which majesty falls is not the casting off of a daughter,— that is no more foolish in a king than in a subject,— but it is the surrendering of revenue, of sway, and of the crown itself,— this is hideous rashness, this is power bowing to flattery. Hence, Kent entreats Lear ' to reserve his state.' And to show still more conclusively that Lear, and not Cordelia, is chiefly in his thoughts, in his very next speech he says that the motive for which he now risks his life is the safety of the king. Furthermore, when Lear has been turned out of doors and his daughters have usurped all his powers, Gloucester (IH, iv, 156) says, < Ah that good Kent 1 He said it would be thus,' which cannot well refer to any other passage than the present. Moreover, hod Kent been so devoted to Cordelia as to suffer banishment for her Sidce, would he not have followed her to France rather than followed as a servant
24 KING LEAR lACri,sal.
And in thy best consideration check
This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgement 150
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least;
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound
Reverbs no hoUowness,
Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more I
Kent My life I never held but as a pawn To wage against thine enemies, nor fear to lose i^ 1$$
Thy safety being the motive.
Lear, Out of my sight I
Kent See better, Lear, and let me still remain The true blank of thine eye.
Lear. Now, by Apollo, —
Kent Now, by Apollo, king,
149. And,„c6nsideraHon\ ttnih better Warb.
judgment Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. 155. nor] nere F,F,. n^reY^ ne^tP
150. ansrver,„jHdgemetU]vnthmyiife F^, Rowe, Knt, Del. Sta. Sch.
/ answer Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. fear to] feaf^d to Ed. conj.
«S*> 'S3« sound Reverbs\ founds A- 156. tAe motive} fnotiveF(,Rowc,Kxit^
uerbe Ff, Rowe, Knt, Sing. Ktly, Sch. Sch.
\IZ. thylife\mylifeYf^. 159, 1 60. Kent A5w....wii».] One
1 54. €isa\as F,. line, Qq.
155. Mii»^]M^Qq,Popc,Tlieob.Han. 159. Apollor-IAppoUoyCl^, Apoih^ Warb. Ci^. Cam. Wr. Q,. Apollo, F,. Apollo. F^,F^.
enemies] foes Pope, Theob. Han.
his great patron whom he had thought on in his prayers ? It need scarcely be added that * reserve thy state' means * retain thy royal dignity and power.' — Eo.]
150. Answer] Johnson : That is. Let my life be answerable for my judgement, or I will stake my life on my opinion. [For other instances of the subjunctive used optatively or imperatively, see Abbott, $ 364; also see Afacb. V, vi, 7.]
153. Reverbs] Steevens : Perhaps a word of Shakespeare's own making, mean- ing the same as reverberates*
154. pawn] Steevens: That is, a pledge, Capsll, followed by Henley, strangely thinks that this refers to the pawn in a game of chess.
155. Wftge] Dyce (Gloss.) s That is, to stake in wager.
158. blank] Johnson: The * blank' is the white or exact mark at which tue arrow is shot. ' See better,' says Kent, * and keep me always in your view.'
159. ApoUo] Malone: Bladud, Lear's father, according to Geoffrey of Mon* mouth, attempting to 6y, fell on the temple of Apollo, and was killed. This cir- cumstance our author must have noticed, both in Holin&hed's Chronicle and The iiirrour for Magistrates, Steevens: Are we to understand, from this circum- stance, that the son swears by Apollo, because the father broke his neck on the temple of that deity ? Malone: We are to understand that Sh. learned from hence that Apollo was worshipped by our British ancestors, which will obviate Dr. John*
Acri,saL] KING LEAR ^S
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. Lear. O vassal I miscreant 1 l6o
^ * >Dear sir, foibear.
Kent. Kill thy physician, and thy fee bestow Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift ; Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat I'll tell thee thou dost evil
Lear. Hear me, recreant 1 16$
On thine allegiance, hear me I That thou hast sought to make us break our vow,
x6o. tmeai^d\ stoeareft Q,. 162. ihyfee\ Ff ^f , Jen. Ec.Kiit,Sdu
O vauall misertantf\ Vaffatt^ ihi fet ^fX cOu
runani, Qq. O, vassal I recrtanil CoU. 163. I^oh M\ l^on thy Cap^
{Laying his hand on his sword. ^yg^fil ?•* ^yg^ ^f ^
Rowe. InAdtion of drawing his Sword. gift TjF^ Rowe. ify doome Qq» Pope
Cap. -f, Glo.+,Mob.
161. Alb. Com. Dtar tlr^firUar^ 165, 166. Hear...Met\ As in Cap. Om. Qq. One line, QqFf, Rowe, Jen. DeL Sing.
[interposing. Cap. Ktly, Scfa.
162. JOU^ Ff +, Knt, Sta. Sch. Doe. 165. rtcrMtt^ Om. Qq. iiZ/QqetoeL Reading Z>^ as a sepa- 166, On tfy...me/] Om.Vapt'^^ rate line, Steev. '93. Bos. ColL DeL iAine] thy Qq, Cam.
Sing. Dyce,Wh. Ktly,Glo.-l-. 167. 7;ia/] Ff, Rowe, Knt. Wh. Sclu
162-165. KU/.„..Mn/.'] lines end, StMcg Qq et cet ffyJiaan^.jdi/ea/€t...€Jamour,,,euiUQii. vow] vawes Ff, Rowe, Knt, Sell.
son's objection, in a subsequent note, to Shakespeare's making Lear too much a mythologist.
i6a swear'st] Abbott ($ 200) : The preposition is omitted after some veibs which can easily be regarded as transitive. See also < smile yon my speeches,' II, ii, 77. Wright: Sh. frequently uses the yerb in a transitive sense when it has a person for its olject, as in Jul. Oes. II, i, 129; but in the sense of appealing to a deity by an oath, it is not conmion.
160. miaereant] Dsuus says that Kent is a *mbcreant' in regard to Apollo and the gods, whom he has contemptuously termed ' thy gods ;' and that recrtant^ of the Qq, he is in regard to Lear. But, as Sckiodt says, Sh. uses ^miscreant' very fre- quently in the sense of moral worthlessness.
164. clamour] Walker has a section {Crii. i, 156) devoted to the meaning of tlus word, which he seems to think expresses an idea of wailing or lamentation. The present passage can with difficulty be said to support this theory.
167. That] To Whitb, < That ' of the Ff seems more in keeping with the style of this pUy. 'Of old thai had, as it still has among our best writers, the sense of for thai^ seeing that^ assuming,* So, Schmidt also says, that the causative since of the Qq is less in the tone of suppressed passion which characterises the speech, and leads, grammatically, less direO^ than < that* to the main point: *take thy reward.' See I, i, 7a 3
26 KING LEAR [act i. SC. I.
Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd pride
To come betwixt ouf sentence and our power,
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear, 170
Our potency made good, take thy reward.
Five days we do allot thee, for provision
To shield thee from diseases of the world,
And on the sixth to turn thy hated back
168. strain^ d^ Jlraiid Q<\<, Or,.,make ]o\iT\&, conj,
1 69. betwixt'^ betweene Q<i, Cap. Jen. 171. madt] make Q,, Pope, Warb. Bos. Ec. GI0. + , Mob. 172. Five\ Foure Qq, Jen.
untenee\ feniences F,, Knt i, 173. </m^<ix«] ^jA?/?^n Ff +,Cap, Ec.
Del. i. Knt, Del. Dyce i, Wh.
171. Our,..made\Nor,„mak€}^t9!^i. \^^, sixth^fixtY^^^, fift^.
169. power] Edwards: That is, our power to execute it.
170. Wright: This line gives the key to Lear's hasty and impetuous character.
170. nor . . . nor] Wright : For neiiher . . . « nor,» compare Otk, III, iv, x 16, 117.
17 1, made good,] Johnson: 'As thou hast come with unreasonable pride be- tween the sentence which I had passed, and the pmoer by which I shall execute it, take thy reward in another sentence which shall make good, shall establish, shall maintain, tkatpower,^ Mr. Davies thinks, that < our potency made good,' relates only to ourplace* Which our nature cannot bear, nor out place, without departure from the potency of that place. This is easy and clear. Lear, who is characterized as hot, heady, and violent, is, with very just observation of life, made to entangle himself with vows, upon any sudden provocation to vow revenge, and then to plead the obligation of a vow in defence of implacability. Steevens : In my opinion, ' made ' is right. Lear had just delegated his power to Albany and Cornwall, con- tenting himself with only the name and all the additions of a king. He could, there- fore, have no power to inflict on Rent the punishment which he thought be deserved. *Onr potency made good ' seems to me only this : They to whom I have yielded my power and authority, yielding me the ability to dispense it in this instance, take thy reward. Malonb: The meaning, I think is: As a proof that I am not a mere threatener, that I have power as well as will to punish, take the due reward of (hy demerits ; hear thy sentence. The words ' our potency made good * are in the ab- solute case. Wright : Lear still speaks as king, although he had announced his intention of abdicating. It is difficult, therefore, to understand why Steevens should have stumbled at this passage. The reading of Q, can only mean ' make good or establish our power by taking thy punishment as an acknowledgement of it.' Mo- BERLY : Sh. ingeniously makes Lear forget that he is giving up his power on that very day, and pronounce a sentence on Kent to take effect in ten days.
173. diseases] Malone: The alteration of the Ff was made by the printer in consequence of his not knowing the meaning of the original word. * Diseases,' in old language, meant the slighter inconveniences, troubles, or distresses of the world. The provision that Kent could make in five days might, in some measure, guard htm against the ' diseases ' of the world, but could not shield him from its disasters, [See note in Macb, V, iii, 21. — Ed.]
ACri,sc.L] KmG LEAR 2^
Upon our kingdom. If on the tenth day following 175
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, The moment is thy death. Away I By Jupiter, This shall not be revoked.
Kent, Fare thee well, king ; sith thus thou wilt appear. Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.— 180
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid. That justly think'st and hast most rightly said ! — And your large speeches may your deeds approve. That good effefts may spring from words of love.— Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu ; 185
He'll shape his old course in a country new. {Exit.
175. cnl Om. F,FjF^+. 181. [To Cordelia, Han.
177, dea/k. Away/ By] Johns. ilear sheiterl prote^iion Q<{.
death : away. By Tape, deaik, away^ ihee, maid] thee maid F^,F^.
4^Qq. deaths awdy. ByYt ihemaideQ^ the maid Q^,
I77»I78- By..„r€voked]One\mttQ^ 182. jmtly,.,.rightly'\ rightly,„JHfify
179. Fare] Why fan Qq» Jen. Ec. Qq>Jen.
Var. thiMsf] ihitUsQ^F^, thmkaQ^
sith thm] finee thus Q,» Jen. Ec. hast] haih Q..
Steev. Var. CoU. i, Del. Sing. Wh. Ktly. 183. [To Gon. and Regan. Han.
JiHce Qg. yoter large speeches] yeu^ targt
180. Freedoni] Friendship Qq» Jen. speeeherSf Cap.
175. tenth] CoLUER (ed. 2) adopts the (MS.) emendation of sevetUhg but returns to die old text in his ed. 3, presumably for metrical reasons. Danisl (Nates, &c, p. 76) : Read s^nth; the sense of the passage requires this alteration. If we may contract * sevennights ' to sennights, why not * seventh ' to s^nth t
177. Jupiter] Johnson: Sh. makes his Lear too much a mythology ; he had
< Hecate ' and « Apollo ' before.
BucKNiLL (p. 176) : Lear's treatment of Kent; his ready threat in reply to Kent's deferential address; his passionate interruptions and reproaches; his attempted vio- lence, checked by Albany and Cornwall ; and, finally, the cruel sentence of banish* ment, cruelly expressed,— all these are the acts of a man in whom passion has be* come disease.
179. Fstfc thee]. For instances of the use, for euphonic reasons, probably ol
< thee ' for thou, see Abbott, $ 2x2.
179. sith] Here, as in Ham. II, ii, 6, the Ff and Qq differ in the use of ' sith ' and * since,* showing, as Clarendon points out, that Sh. did not uniformly observe the dbtinction laid down by Mabsh. See notes on the passage in Ham.
180. Freedom] Jennbns : * Fdendship/ of the Qq, seems more properly opposed to * banishment;' for what is •banishment* but the being driven away from our fnends and countrymen?
183. CApbll affirms that his * emendation will not appear an unfit one to such as Biark the ill-construction of the line, and it's ill connection with the line that < after, in their old reading.*
28 KING LEAR [ACT I, SC i.
flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with F&ANCE, Bu&GUNDY, and Attendants.
Glou. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. 187
Lear. My lord of Burgundy, We first address toward you, who with this king Hath rivaird for our daughter; what, in the least, 190
Will you require in present dower with her. Or cease your quest of love ?
Bur. Most royal majesty,
I crave no more than hath your highness ofTer'd, Nor will you tender less.
Lear. Right noble Burgundy,
Flourish.] Om. QqF.FjF^. tcwards Qq et cet
Re-enter...] Cap. Enter France and 189. Mtr] a Qq.
Burgundie with Glofler. Qq (Burgundy 190. Hatk'\ Have Pope -I- , Jen. Ee.
Q^ Glocester Q,). Enter Glofter with in the Uas{\ at least Pope,
France, and Burgundy Attendants. Ff + • Theob. Han. Warb.
187. Scene III. Pope,Han. Johns. Jen. 192. Mosf\ Om. Qq.
Glon.] Glo. or Glolt Qq. Cor. 192-194. royal,, Jess.1 Two lines, the
Ff, Rowe, Pope. first ending what^ Qq.
188-192. ^...&v^/^ Four lines, end- 193. -*<2/A]w>ttf/QqF,F^+,Jen.Kdy,
'jigy(nit.,uiaughter,...pre/ent„Jaue i Qq. Cam.
188. lord'[ L. <^. offef'd'\ offered Q<{.
e/] ^'•Q.- '94. /«J.] ifff^f QqF,F^ u/sr f^
189. toward'} Ff +, Jen. Knt, ColL 194-198. Right,„pieced^ Four lines, Del. Dyce i, Sta. Wh. Ktly, Sch. etidxiigvs,.,,fallen,\,Jittle..,peee'Jl,()i\.
186. Johnson: He will follow his old maxims; he will continue to act upon the same principles. Steevens quotes: *St. George for England! and Lreland now •dieu. For here Tom Slukely shapes his course anew.' — Peele's Battle of Alcazar^ 1594, p. 117; ed. Dyce. As You Like It {Gent. Maga,, Ix, p. 402) conjectures corse for ' course,' and explains that Kent means that ' he'll conform his old body, approaching towards « corse, to the customs of a new country.' Wright so far agrees with this anonymous critic as to think that there is * evidently a play intended upon the words «' course " and " corse." ' [The antithesis is so marked between ' old* and * new ' that, to me, the simpler the interpretation the better : Kent's old age must be finished in a new country. The jingle between ' course' and ' corse ' is certainly Shakespearian, but I cannot see that it is called for here ; the situation is not so tragic that it needs the relief of a smile, and, moreover, * to shape a corse' is well- nigh unintelligible. — ^Ed.]
187. Here's] See III, iii, 17; Ham, III, iv, 202; IV, v, 5; Maeb. II, iii, 137; and Abbott, 5 335.
190. Hath] For instances of the relative followed by a singular verb, though tne antecedent be plural, see Abbott, § 247.
190. rivall'd] Schmidt : The only instance in Sh. of its use as a verb. 190. in the least] Wright : At least. So * in the best ' for < at best ' in Ham. I, tr, 27. Schmidt : Here alone in Sh. thus used.
ACri,sc.L] KING LEAR 29
When she was dear to ns, we did hold her so ; 195
But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands.
If aught within that little-seeming substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced.
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace.
She's there, and she is yours. Bur. I know no answer. aoo
Lear. Will you, with those infirmities she owes.
Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate,
Dower'd with our curse and stranger'd with our oath.
Take her, or leave her? Bur. Pardon me, royal sir;
195. did hold^ held F.F,F^ + , Jen. 30l. WUr\ Sir wiO Q,. 5Sr>, wU Q^
196. priee\ prife Q,. Cap. Stecv. Mai. Ec. Var. Sing. (5#r, faWn\ fallen QqF,F. in a separate line, Steer. Bos. Sing.)
197. little-seeming] Coll. iii. Walker. , 202. neuhodopted] Hyphen by Pope. attle, seeming, CtL'p. little, seeming Sttev. 20^. Dav/er'd] Datdrd F^. Darned '78, Ec Var. Knt, Sing, little feeming F^,F^. QmeredQSi^
QqFf et cet. 2G4. Take Aer,"] Take leave, YJ?^.
198. pieced] pie^d Ff. pee^Jl Qq. kert] Rowe. Aer, QqFf. piere'd Pope. 204, 205. Pttrdon^xonditionsJ] The
199. more] el/e Qq. first line ends at vp, Qq.
200. she is] Om. Voss. 204. me] Om. Pope+*
195. so] Capell: Speaking indefinitely, as one unwilling to say how much sho was dear to him ; and giving ' so ' the force of —so and so, or at sach and such price, as men sometimes express themselves. Ecclbs, Malons, and Moberly think that it means ' worthy of that high dowry,' in which opinion the present Editor agrees, but Wkight thinks that it means simply dear.
197. seeming] Johnson: Beautiful. Steevens: Specious. WuGirr: That substance which is but little in appearance. Mobe&ly: Her nature that seems so slight and shallow. Lear speaks in the next line of her * infirmities,' ber want of established principle as compared with her decided and outspoken sisters. Schmidt thinks that all these definitions fail to take into account Shakespeare's use of the word * substance,' whereby he commonly expresses reality in opposition to shadcw; * seem- ing substance ' means, therefore, something which pretends to be that which it is not Perhaps, he adds, < seeming ' is to be taken as a gerund, and 'seeming substance' may then mean a creature whose reality is mere show or seeming.
198. pieced] Wright: See III9 vi, 2.
199. like] See Ham. II. ii. 8a
201. owes] Owns.
203. stranger'd] See Abbotf, $294, for a list of over thirty passive TeibSy formed from adjectives and nouns, found mostly in the participle ; in Lear are the foUoM-ing: 'faith'd,' II, i, 70; 'windoWd,' III, iv, 31; «H> childed as I father'd/ III, vi, 108; < nighted,' IV9 v, 13; * the death-practised duke/ IV, vi, 275. 3*
30 KING LEAR [act I, sa L
Ele6tion makes not up in such conditions. 205
Lear. Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made? me,
I tell you all her wealth. — \Td France] For you, great king,
I would not from your love make such a stray.
To match you where I hate ; therefore beseech you
T' avert your liking a more worthier way 210
Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed
Almost t' acknowledge hers. France. This is most strange.
205. fr/ti»]Ff,Rowe» Knt, Sell, ttp 2I:^-2IS. This,.,„Jegr€€\ Six lines,
Ml Qq^ et cet. endingncw....prai/e,.,„deere/t,,.Jkiftg^,».
207. [To France] Pope. Om. QqFf. /avour,,.uiep'ee, Qq. 2x0. woriAierl wortky Tope -\- ,
205. makes not up] Johnson : To make up, in familiar language, is neutrally, to amu forward^ to make advances^ which I think u meant here. Malons^ Elec* tion comes not to a decision. Knight: The thoUe of Burgundy refuses to come to a decision, in such circumstances, or on such terms. Mason thinks that * up ' and ' on ' should be read as one word, in order to make thq sense evident. But Wright's note is conclusive : * Election makes not its choice, comes to no decision, resolves not We still say *' to make up one's mind," and the phrase is here used elliptically in the same sense.'
205. in such conditions] Schmiot [Zur Textkritik^ &c., p. 14) : If < condi* tions' be here taken in its ordlnaiy sense, it requires, even according to Shake- speare's own mode of speaking, on before it, instead of * in ;' but it is not * condi« tions ' that are spoken of in what precedes : < Will you, with those hifirmities she owes. Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath/ &c. It is qualities that are here enumerated, and it is in just this sense of qualify that Shakespeare very often uses ' condition.' Meas.for Meas. I, i, 54 : * our haste from hence is of so quick condition that it prefers itself,' &c. Mer. of Fen, V, i, 74 : * unhandled colts, fetching mad bounds . . . which is the hot con- dition of their blood.' I/en, V: IV, i, 10&: <all his senses have but human condi- tions.' Much AdOf III, ii, 68 : * one that knows him, and his ill conditions,' &c That the word in this sense may also have the preposition in before it can be shown by abundant examples. As You Like &^, I, i^ 47 : < I know you are my eldest brother, and in the gentle condition of blood you should so Wow me.' Rich, II: II, iii, 107 : * in conditions of the worst degree, in gross rebellion,' &c.
208. 209. such . . • To] For instances of the onussion of as after nuh^ so, see Abbott, § 281, and line 216.
209. beseech] For instances of the omission of the nominative, see Abbott, $401.
210. ftvert] Schmidt : Not elsewhere in Sh. as a verb.
210, 215. more worthier • ... Most best] For instances of double comparatives and superlatives, see Abbott, $ ii.
ACT I. sc. L] KING LEAR 3 1
That she, who even but now was your best ofa$e6l»
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time 215
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle
So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree
That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affeftion
J13. she, ivhol Jhe whom F,, Sing. best Quincy (MS.). Jhe^ thai Q,, Mai. Stecv. Var. Coll. Glo. 217. folds\fouU Q,.
+ ,Mob. Jhe that <l^, kiroffence\th* offmcc'^^x^^lAxci^
^j/]Om.F,. ^/«/ Coll. (MS.). 219. That monsters if[ As monstrous
214. The,. .praise] Your praise's ar* u Rowe, Pope. As monsters it Han. gument Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. or] ere Theob. conj. (with*
215. The best, the"] Ff, Rowe, Johns. drawn).
Cap. Steev. Ec. Knt, Sing. Wh. Sch. your fore-voucKd] your /ore*
Moft beft, mofi Qq ct cct. voueht Ff. you for voucht Qq, Jen. Most..Mearesf[ Dearest and best affe^ion\ affe^ions Qq, Jen.
Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. And dearest,
213. best] Cdluer (ed. 3): The compositor [instead of bUsf^ canght *best' from the next line bat one.
213. object] Schmidt {Zur Textkritik, &c., p. 14) : Sh. uses this word, without an adjective, in an expanded sense, equivalent to that which one has always in his eye, or seeks out with his eye, the delight of his eye. Thus, V, and A., 255 : ' The time is spent, her object will away,' &c. ; lb., 822 : < So did the merciless and pitchy night Fold in the object that did feed her sight;* Mid. N. D, IV, i, 174:
* the object and the pleasure of mine eye is only Helena;' Cymb. V, iv, 55 : * fruit- ful object be In eye of Imogen.' Where Timon, IV, iii, 122, tells Alcibiades to < swear against objects,' he means <pour out curses, when whatever touches the heart of man presents itself to the eye.' The interpolated ' best,' in the present passage, while it makes the phrase more generally understood, weakens insteads of strengthens the passage. [The omission of the adjective throws the accent on the last syllable of
* object,' which may be correct, but I can find no other similar accentuation of this noun in Sh. — Ed.]
219. monsters it] Wright: That is, makes it monstrous.
219, 220. or . . • taint] Johnson interprets thus: 'her offence must be prodig* ious, or you musXfo/I into reproach for having vouched affection which you did not feel.' By changing ' Fall,' of the Ff, into Fcdls, he says the same sense is produced, and adds 'another possible sense. "Or" signifies pefore; the meaning of the Ff may therefore be : " Sure her crime must be monstrous before your affection can be affected with hatred." ' Jennens, the sturdy champion of the Qq, enclosing the whole phrase in parentheses, thus defends and interprets their text : The best way to make sense [of the Qq text] will be to consider what was the real cause of the estrangement of Lear's love from Cordelia ; it was the vouch'd affections of his three daughters; the two eldest vouch'd such affection to him as was beyond all nature and possibility to a father; but Cordelia vouched only such an affection as was natural and reasonable for a daughter to feel for her father. Now, Lear was fallen ini9
32 KING LEAR [ACTI^SCL
FalllQ into taint ; which to bdieve of her, 220
Must be a fiuth that reason, without miracle. Should never plant in me.
Car. I yet beseech your majesty;
(If for I want that glib and oily art, To speak and purpose not, since what I well intend, I'll do't before I speak,) that you make known 225
2aa FaXtn\ Fahu Q,Q^ Fail FT, 222. majisfy.l MmeJfy.Y^
Steev. Ec. Knt, DeL Sing. Dyce i,Sta. 222, 223. / yet..\If fori One line,
Ktly, Sch. Could notfatt Rowe, Pope^ Han.
Han. 223. {Tffir\ TheoK If {fir Pope,
220^221. c/Jk€r,..vMmU\Ont}m^ JobnSyJen. No parenthesis, QqFf. {if
Han. jvHaiu
221. faiih thai,,„miracle\ faUJL..^ Vf^'\ Seeing Cap. Qonj. miraeleg Han. 223, 224. L.jpetik'\ One line» Han. ' 222. Should^ Ff+, Ec Knt, Dyc^ 224. «0»/r|«A/Ff»Rowe»DeLi»Sch. Sta. Wh. Sdu CouidQn et cet 225. maJieJhtawmJmayJhiewQq^JaL
plan/] plaint Q^ [To France. Jen.
tain/, ue.lm judgement was comipted» in preferring the extravagant and lying protestations of bis eldest dangbters to the sincere and jUst ones of bis youngest. And if we jrmninate a little, tbis is tbe only second reason for Lear's rejecting Corde- lia tbat can witb any probability be supposed to be gaessed at by France; for it would be rude in France to charge Lear with vouching the dearest affections to one be did not really love; and it is absurd to suppose that so great a lore should change to bate, widiout she bad committed some very great crime, and which France could not be brought to believe ; therefore, this second guess becomes the only one, and the true one, viz : that Regan and Goneril had, by their superior ait in coaxing, won all Lear's love from Cordelia. Malons held to this interpretation until he ' recollected that Fhmce bad not beard the extravagant professions made by Regan and GoneriL* Then be gives what seems to me the true construction of the passage : * Either her offence mmt.be monstrous, or, if she has not committed any such offence, the affection which you always professed to have for her must be tainted and decayed' [that is, 'must be' is to be understood before * Fall'n.' It is easy to see how the text of the Ff arose. The last syllable of Fallm was absorbed \rf the first syllable of •into,' so that even were Fall ci the Ff to be adopted, I think it should be printed /5iV/'w— Ed.]
222. mftjetty] A dissyllable.
223. If for] Abbott, $ 387, supposes an ellipsis after « If ' of t!f f>, and takes ' for* as equivalent to because. Jsnnens and Eocles suppose that it is a broken speech, expressing the modest fear and bashful diffidence of Cordelia, hdgbtened by her concern under her pitiable circumstances. For instances of * for/- meaning because, see Schmidt^ lex. s. v.
225-227. that • • . step] Jennkns, true to the Qq> and adopdbg their text bere^ believes tbat tbis is addressed to France; then, without making a period, CoideUi lams agun to the king.
ACT I. sc. L] KING LEAR 33
It is 00 vicious blot, nor other foulness. 226
236. nor €ikir\ ColL (MS), Sing. iL Sdu mm^^«r Q^ et cet mo shtr^m murder or Q,. mrnrtker^ or FT, Wh. Caitwright.
226. nor other] Coluek {Notes, &c., p. 451) : Murder at murtker^ of the Ff, seems entirely out of place; Cordelia could never contemplate that anybody wonld suspect her of murder as the ground of her father's displeasure; she is referring to < vicious blots ' and ' foulness ' in respect to virtue. The copyist or the compositor miswrote or misread nor other * murther.' Blackwood's Maga. (Oct. 1853, p. 464) t France has just before said : ' Sure her offence must be of such unnatural degree That monsters it ' — that is, it can be nothing short of some crime of the deepest dye, and therefore < murder' does not seem to be so much out of place in the mouth of Cordelia. .Whitb pronounces this emendation < only specious; for "vicious blot*' is altogether too general a term to be put in the alternative with " foulness," almost as general, and of like meaning. I do not doubt that Sh. wrote " murther." ' [In his Shakespeare s Scholar, Whitb gave in his adherence to Collier's emendation, saying that ' maxther is an easy and undeniable mistake for nor other^ and that * murder' has no proper place in the categoiy of blemishes enumerated by Cor* delta.] Walker {Crit, iii, 275): What has murder to do here? Read umber^ Malonx on < umbered face,' Hen. V: IV, Chorus t < Umber is a dark yellow eaxth brought from Umbria in Italy, which, being mixed with water, produces such a duskjr yellow colour as the gleam of fire by night gives to the countenance. Our author's profession probably furnished him with this epithet ; for, from an old MS play, en* titled Thi Telltale, it appears that umber was used in the stage exhibitions of hit time. In that piece, one of the marginal directions is : "He umbers her face." * Dycb (ed. 2) : Undoubtedly the original reading is a veiy suspicious one. Hau UWZLL: Most readers will agree with Dyce. Bailby (ii, S9) proposes burden^ because [Heaven save the mark I] the * burden of guilt, the burden of dishonour^ the burden of sorrow, are all Shakespearian expressions.' Staunton : Collier's (MS) emendation is certainly a very plausible substitution. Keiohtlby : How could the pure and gentle Cordelia suppose herself to be suspected of murder ? which, more* over, accords not with the other charges she enumerates. I feel strongly persuaded that Sh.'s word was misdeed, which, if a little effaced, might easily be taken for ' murder.* Hudson e Murder seems a strange word to be used here, and Collier's reading has some claims to preference ; but I suspect Cordelia purposely uses murder out of place, as a glance at Uie hyperbolical absurdity of denouncing her as * a wretch whom Na« ture is ashamed to acknowledge.' Moserly : There seems good reason for adopting Collier's reading : the gradation ' vicious blot, murder, foulness ' would not be happy. Moreover^ from the parallel expression, * vicious mole of nature,' in Ham, I, iv, 24^ we may conclude that in this line Cordelia refers to natural defects, which Lear might be supposed to have just discovered ; but in the next line : < No unchaste action,' &c. to evil actions, from all suspicions of which she wishes to be cleared. [If ever emendation be necessary, here seems to be the occasion. Rather than suppose that Cordelia could be accused of murder, I would adopt Walker's far-fetched ' umber ' or Keightley's prosaic 'misdeed.' Instead, we have* what is to me an emendatio certissima, restoring the rhythm, according with the ductus literarum, and ofiering no vioUnce to the consistency of Cordelia's character. To White's objection, which ( to me the only serious one, that there is not enough of an alternative betweea
c
34 KING LEAR [acti^scL
No unchaste aflion, or dishonoured step, 227
That hath deprived me of your grace and fiivour;
But even for want of that for which I. am richer,
A still-soliciting eye, and spch a tongue 230
That I am glad I have not, though not to have it
Hath lost me in your liking.
Lear. Better thou
Hadstnot been bom than not f have pleased me better.
dishmwf'd] diskcmord Q,. d&- Glo.-|-, Dyce ii» Mob. Hnds.
kmwredY^. di/konoured QJPJP^^. IJkape n&Q Tvi naf Tojpt i-.
gtepi stoop CoU. at (MS). 333. Bitter^ Goe to^goi U^ betitr Qq
228. [To Lear. Jen. (snbs.), Jen.
grace atur\ grains Anon.* 232, 233. 3eitir..,haiir.'\ Pbpc. The
229. for fooK/] tki toani Han. Cap. first line ends borm^ Qq» Oip. Jen. At £c Hads. kadji^ Ff^ Rowe.
Iam\ PmVopt + Jen.I>7oeii 233. /• Jkave] tJlaviF^ to ham Qq.
rukir\ rick Qq. have Pope +•
23a ttiO-^^icitittg] Hyphen, Theob.
< blot ' and * foulness/ may there not be opposed that Cordelia's distress might make her Tei^ on incoherence ? As Moberly troly says, ' the gradation from a Tidons blot to mnxder, and then to foulness, is not happy.' This alone is so nn-Shakespearian that of itself it would taint the line. Murder may have been a much less heinous crime in Shakespeare's days than at present, and Lady Capulet may have thought to cheer Juliet's drooping spirits with the contemplation of Romeo's assassination, but that it could ever have been of less dq;ree than foulness demands a faith that reason with« out miracle can never plant in me. Can a parallel instance of anticlimax be found in Sh.? And mark how admirably the lines are balanced : * vicious blot or foul- ness, unchaste action or dishonout'd step.'— -Ed.]
229. Bat • • • richer] Wricsht: The construction is imperfect, though the sense is dear. We should have expected '-even the want,' as Hanmer reads, but Sh. was probably guided by what he had written in the line preceding, and mentally supplied
* I am deprived.' There is an obscurity about * for which.' It would naturally mean
* for having which,' but here it must signify * for wanting which.'
230. still] Constantly. See Ham, I, i, 122.
231. I have] MoBS<: Pronounce ' I've not.'
232. in your liking] Wright: The < in ' denotes the amount of tiie loss^— as m the phrases, * they shall amerce him in an hundred shekels of silver' — ^Deut xxii, 19 ;
< condemned the land in an hundred tglents of silver,' &c. — 2 Chron. xxxvi, 3; and the common •expression ' to stand one in,' for « to cost' The phrase may also be ex« plained, * hath caused me loss in respect of your love.'
232. Better, &c.] Bucknill (p. 177) : All this is exaggerated passion, pervexted affection, weakened judgement; all the elements, in fact, of madness, except inco- herence and delusion. These are added later, but they are not essential to mad« ness; and, as we read the play, the mind of Lear is, from the first, in a state of actual unsoundness, or, to speak more precisely, of disease.
ACT I. sc. L] KING LEAR 35
France. Is it but this? a tardiness in nature Which often leaves the history unspoke 235
That it intends to do? — My lord of Burgundy, What say you to the lady ? Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stands Aloof from th' entire point Will you have her? She is herself a dowry.
Bur. Royal Lear, 240
Give but that portion which yourself proposed, And here I take Cordelia by the hand, Duchess of Burgundy.
Lear. ^Nothing. I have sworn; I am firm.
Bur. I am sorry then you have so lost a fiither 245
That you must lose a husband
Car. Peace be with Burgundy 1
Since that respe6b of fortune are his love,
%y^ huiihiif\ no more but thiSf Qq» 240. a dffmry\ and dawre Q,. and
Jen. Var. dower Q;, Jen.
235. Wkichl 7?itf/Qqf Jen. 240-243. Royal„.Bmrgmufy,'\ Three
Uaval Unfa Q,. lines, ending /0f/MM...Cordeiia...Bar«
235-338. ff^M:A..j-AiM£r] Three lines, gundie, Q.; ending /0r/!Mif..J!iiiir...Bar-
ending do^..,Lady K,.ftaMds^ Qq. gundy, (^
337. Loodi\ Love ir Qq» Jen. Steev. 240. ZMr]Q,. ZeirQ^, XingTt-^-^ £c Var. CoIL Sing. Ktly. Knt, Dyce i, Wh. Sch.
338. rtgards that sfands] Sch.« fv- 241. yonrsei/^ you yourself '^m, (mis« gards^ thai standi Ff, Rowe. re/^cts print?)
tkaijtands Qq. respects that stand Mai. 244. / have sworn ; I am firm,'] I
Steev. Bos. Coll. Sing. Sta. Ktly. rv- haue fwom^ lam firm. Ff. I haue
gardst and stands Cap. regards: thai fwome, Qq> Jen. Pve sworn, Pope+. stands JeiL regards that standVo^ et cet 245. lam] Pm Pope -I- , Dyce ii, Huds.
239. M*] FT, Rowe -h, Sing. Wh. Sch. 246-248. iVar/....w(^.] Two lines,
M/ Qq et cet the first ending refpeas^ Qq.
pmni, WUl\ Steer, point wU 246, Burguttdy] Barguny F,.
Q,. pointy wiltQJFf, Rowe. point. Say 247. respe^s of fortune] refpea and
wiU Pope + > Cap. Jen. fortunes Ff, Rowe, Pope, Sch.
235. history] Schmidt: Frequently used for what passes in the inner life of man. Cf. Son, xciii ; Meas.for Meas, I, i, 29; Rich. Ill: III, ▼, 28.
235. unspoke] Wright: Sh. uses both forms of the participle of the Yeib speah. See Temp^ IV, {,31. In the A. V. of the Bible the form ' spoken ' alone occurs.
237. Love's not love] Compare Son. zcvi.
237. regards] Knight: Considerations.
238. entire] Johnson: Single, unmixed with other considerations. Mobsrlti The main point of affection.
247. Since that] See Mach, IV, iii, 106, or Abbott, % 287.
247. respects of fortnne] If we adopt this reading, ' respects * is used like < re*
36 KING LEAR [act i. sci
I shall not be his wife.
France. Fairest Cordelia, that alt most rich being poor. Most choice forsaken, and most loved despised, 250
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon« Be it lawful I take up what* s cast away. Gods, gods 1 'tis strange that fix^m their cold'st negle£l My love should kindle to inflamed respe£t — Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, 255
Is queen of us, of ours, and our &ir France. Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy Can buy this unprized precious maid of me.— Bid them iarewell, Cordelia, though unkind Thou losest here, a better where to find. 260
S49. ika£\tkm'&9xu 25S. Can\ SkaU Qq^ Jen. Steev. Ec
SSI. iaMi\ aoMt Q^ Var. ColL sLog. Sta. DcL Ktly, Hads.
252. Bei£\B€U Pope +» Dyce iL 259, 260. unkind; Tkou] Theob. tM*
253. C9ld'st] couldji Q^ JHnde^ Thou Ff, Rowe, Pope, vnkind 255. my <kamce\ thy chatue Qq, Thou Qq.
357* ^ ^ Q<1» J«»« 2^ ^^^^^ Vfhiri\ teU^T'Where Stau
guds/ In line 238, or in ITam, U, ii, 79, and, of course, with the same meaning as in ITam. Ill, i, 68. But it is donbtful if the reading of the Ff be not better; it means the same, and the tnm of the phrase is certainly Shakespearian. Schmidt {Zur Texthritih, p. 15), in reference to this passage, has given' several instances of hendiadys in thb very play, e.g. I, ii, 45: *This policy and reverence of age,' equivalent to « this policy of revering age ;' I, ii, 165 ; * nothing like the image and horror of it,*" equivalent to ' the horrible image of it ;' I, iv, 336 : * This' milky gen« tleness and course of yours,' equivalent to 'gentle course;* II, ii, 74: < V^th every gale and vaiy of their masters,' equivalent to * every varying gale.'
257. waterish]. Wmght: Used with a notion of contempt. See Olh, ni,iii, 15. Burgundy was the best watered district of France. See Heylyn {A LittU Descrip» tiffft of the Great Worlds ed. 1633, p. 22) : *That which Queene Katharine was wont \o say, that France had more rivers than all Europe beside; may in like manner be •aid of this Province in respect of France.'
258. unpriaed] Abbott, S375: This may mean 'unprized by others, but pre- cious to me.' Wright : Or it may mtan priceless, as < unvalued,' in J^ich, III: I, hr, 27, signifies invaluabU*
259. unkind] Staunton ; It here signifies tenuatural^ unless Fhmce is intended to mean, thottgh unhinn^d^ L e. though forsaken by your kindred.
260. here . . . where] Johnson : These have the power of nouns. Wright t Compare the Preface of the Translators to the Reader prefixed to the Authoriaed Version of the Bible : < As for example, if we translate Uie Hebrew or Greek word once by Purpose, neuer to caU it Intent; if one where loumeying, neuer Tniueil- Ing; if one where Thinke, neuer Suppose; if one where Paine, neuer Ache,' &c.
ACri,8C.i.] KING LEAR 37
Lear. Thou hast her, France. Let her be thine, for we a6l Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. — ^Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison. — Come, noble Burgundy. 265
{Flourish. Exeunt alt but France^ Goneril^ Regan, and Cordelia.
France. Bid farewell to your sisters.
Cor. Ye jewels of our ikther, with wash'd eyes Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are; And, like a sister, am most loath to call
Your faults as they are named. Love well our father. 270
To your professed bosoms I commit him ; But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,
261, 262. for Tve.^sti] One line, Qq. 266. Scbns iv. Pope +» Jen.
263. 264. Tkerefori.,,.^enison1 Cap. mters,"] sisters f Q..
was the first to indicate, by dashes, that 267. Ye jewils'\ Rowe ii +, Quincj
this is addressed to Cordelia. (MS), Cap. Dyce ii, Wh. HaL Huds,
264,265. lViihout..,BurguHdy,'\One Coll. iii. 77U jewels Qp^i ti cdU
line, Qq. 267-270. The,./aiher y\ Four lines,
264. ourleve'l vntJhutimr love Johns. ending JFa/Aer,„.Mrep.„./ttstlts»,.JuUJker, (misprint ?) Qq.
265. [Flourish.] Om. Qq. 268. you whaf^ wkatKowt ii +, Cap. Exennt...] Exit Lear and Bur- 270. Love^ Ff-l-,Jen.Knt,Coll.DeL
gundy. Qq. Exeunt. Ff. Exeunt Lear, Dyce, Wh. Huds. Sch. (^^r Qq et cet. Burgundy, Comwal, Albany, Gloster, 271, professed] professing Pope-l>»
and Attendants. Cap. Quincy (MS), Cap. Ec.
Other instances of adverbs used as nouns, are ' upward,' V, iii, 137 ; < inward,' Som. cxxviii, 6 : ' outward,' Son. Ixix, 5 ; and * backward,' Temp. I, ii, 5a
267. Ye jewels] Steevens: It is frequently impossible in ancient MS to distin* guish Tke from its customary abbreviation. Walxkr {Crit. iii, 276) supports the Tie of the QqFf by quotations from Browne and Spenser, but, as Dycb 8ays,<they are not parallel to the present passage. Mobe&lY: * Yon who are naturally dear and precious to him.' Haluwell: The old reading makes sense, but Tke and Ye being constantly written the same in MSS, there can be little hesitation in adopting the latter reading, which seems to improve the sentence. Schiodt gives several in- stances of the use of Tke before the vocative: Cor. I, vi, 6; yui. Cess. V, iii, 99; Per. Ill, i, I ; but of these the first alone is parallel, and the last is generally printed <Thou' instead of 7X/.
267. wash'd] For instances of the use of this word as applied to tears, see ScmriDT, Lex. s. v.
268. knowyou] For instances of the redundant otject, see WALKiK,CHi&i,6S; or Abbott, $ 414.
271. professed] Delhts: Cordelia commits her father to the lore which her sisters had professed, not to that which they really feel.
38 KING LEAR [ACTl^sau
I would prefer him to a better place. 2/}
So farewell to you both.
Reg. Prescribe not * us our duty.
Gon. Let your study 275
Be to content your lord, who hath received you At fortune's alms. You have obiedience scanted, And well are worth the want that you have wanted.
Car. Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides;
273. prtfir\ fifftr F^ ending Lard,..xilmes^./cafUedg Q^.
274. hM.'\ both f Q,. 277. Af\ As Cap. £c. Hal.
275« Reg....Gon.] G<moriU...«R^gBai ' 278. wartk...waHted'\worth the worth
Qq. ih!at yoM kaui toanUd Qq* wifrtAy t9
IMT-'] Ed. KMTQqFfet oet. want that you have wanted Via^
4ufy.Y^{iutUY>^^^OiSi.l}€L rj^. pUghtid] pUated ClJ[i^. pleeted
Djrce i, Wh. Sch. duties fQ^. dnties. Qy /Ait/^^ Pope ii+« Cap. Jen. Steer.
Q,etcet. EcVar. Glo.+»Mob. 275-277. Let..MatUed,1 Three lines»
273. prefer] Schmidt: That is, address^ direct or, better, recommend.
275. not' us] In the belief that the to, in the full phrase ' prescribe not to ns»' it absorbed in the 6nal / of ' not ' I have printed the text as above. See 11, ii^ 1 16.— Ed.
278. worth • • • wanted] Theobald : < Yon well deserve to meet with that want of love from yonr hnsband, which-yon have profess'd to want for onr Father.' Wa&« BURTON: This nonsense mus^ be corrected thus; * worth . • . « vaunted^ i, e, that disherison, which yon so much gloiy in, you deserve. HtATR: Sh. mt^t have written : * the want that you have wasted f i, e, yon will deserve to want that which you have yonrsdf so wastefully and unnecessarily thrown away. Tollet : * Yon aiB well deserving of the want of dower that you are without' jENNXXfs: The old reading is not elq;ant, indeed, but it is intelligible,— it is like ' seeding seed '—Gen. f. 29. ClFKIXi The Qq reading, with this addition, vii; : 'are worth to want the worth that you have wanted ' has a plain sense, and one worthy the utterer, and gives a roundness to the jingle. Eoclbs : It might be read : • < worth to want that yon have wanted^'-^'that' taken demonstratively, and not relatively,— or else, 'the want of UDoXyoifye wanted.' Wright : Dr. Badham combined the texts of Ff and Qq thus : ' And wdl are worthy want that worth have wanted.' The difficulty seems to arise from the imperfect connection of the relative with its antecedent. Hie use of the word 'want' has, apparently, the effect of always making Shakespeare's construc- tions obscure. See line 229^ Gonerils^ys,'yonhavecomeshort in your obedience and well deserve the want of that affection in which you yourself have been want- ing.' ^ Otherwise [with Jennens], we must r^ard ' the want thM you have wanted ' as an instance of the combination of a verb with its cognate accusative [which is the view Schmidt takes]. Mobbrly : The text of the Qq might be emended thus : ' Which well were worth the word that yon have wanted,' u e, yet obedience might have claimed from you the one word which you would not say.
279. plighted] Theobald (Sh. Rest,, p. 171) suggested /Amt^^, i. e. twisted^ entangled, but prtfentd plaited, t. e, wrapt in folds, which Pope adopted in hu ed. 2. Malonb once thought it should ht plated, as in IV, vi, 169, but was afterwards oon*
ACT h SC. L] JC/NG LEAR 39
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. ^80
Well may yoa prosper !
France. Come, my fair Cordelia.
[Exeunt France and Cordelia.
Can. Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night
aSo. ^vcxfr] Jen. ^wtfrr QqFf +,Ec 282-284. 5&//r. Jo-nigkt.l Cap.
Knt, Del. i, Ktly, Sch. ccver^dK^xi. Cap. Three lines, tii6ixkg/ay^,.,boih,,Io^igktp
skami tJkim deridtt\ with ^me QqFf + , Jen.
derides Yf + , Cap. Ec. Knt, Del. i. Sing. 282. /iltle I Aave] a Utile /have Qq,
ii, Sch. their shame ierides Anon.* Cap. Jen. Steev. £c. Var. Sing. Ktly^
281. my\ Om. Qq. GI0..+, Huds. Mob. little Pve Pope +. [Exeunt...] Exit...QqF^^ 283. hencel go henee Rowe +.
282. Scene V. Pope +, Jen.
Tinced, by the word ' nnfold,' that Raited of the Qq was the true reading. Knigkt : To 'plight* and to plait equally mean 'to fold.' In Milton's Hist, of England^ Boadicea wears ' a plighted garment of divers colours.' In the exquisite passage 10 Comus : ' I took it for a faiiy vision Of some gay creatures of the element, That in fhe colours of the rainbow live» And play i' th' plighted clouds' — the epithet has the same meaning. Staunton : ' Flighted ' means involved^ complicated, Wrighti For the Folio spelling, see Spenser, Faery Qtteene, ii, 3, $ 26 : ' All in a silken Camus lilly whight, Pnrfled upon with many a folded plight' Cotgrave gives, ' Pli 2 m. A plait, fould, lay; bought; wrinkle, crumple.'
280. coyer] Mason : Hie Ff are right, with the change of a single letter: covert instead of ' covers.' Thus, ' Who covert faults at last with shame derides.' ' Who' referring to 'time.' [This reading was followed by Rann.] HenlbY: Cordelia alludes to Prov. xxviii, 13 : ' He that covereth hb sins shall not prosper,* &c SiNCEa (ed. 2) : I have no doubt we should read r^^-faults, t . e. dissemblers, and that the meaning is : ' Time shall unfold what cunning duplicity bides, who (Time) at last derides such dissemblers with shame, by unmasking them.' [And this compound Singer adopted into the text of Sh., for whose purity, as against Collier's (MS) emendations, he had contended so vehemently, and, it should be added, so intern* perately. — Ed.] Dyce: I adhere to the Qq, because I feel convinced that 'Who'* refers to people in general, — ^ Those wbo,' &c. As to the with of the Folio (which, by the by, Mr. Collier's (MS) changes to them), I can no more account for it, than for hundreds of other strange things which the Folio exhibits.. Schmidt refers • Who ' to ' time,' and says that ' faults ' u the object of both ' covers ' and ' derides.' [I cannot but agree with Dyce's interpretation. — ^Ed.]
282. most] Cafell thinks that this ' word is crept into Goneril's speech out of her sister's that follows, which makes apart of it verse: *' most," therefore, should be discarded.'
2B^ hence] Eoclbs: There is not, I think, throughout the play, the least hint given as to the particular part of the reahn in which any scene lies, till we are intro- duced towards Uie conclusion into the neighborhood of Dover; nor are we informed vhether it be intended that either of the sisters should make the palace of Lear her
40 KING LEAR [Acri,8C.i,
Reg. That's most certain, and with you; next month 285 with us.
Gon. You see how full of changes his age is ; the obser- vation we have made of it hath not been little; he always loved our sister most; and with what poor judgement he hath now cast her off appears too grossly. 290
Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.
Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash ; then must we look from his age to receive, not alone the imperfe£Uons of long-ingraffed condition, but therewithal 295 the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them.
Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent's banishment
Gon. There is further compliment of leave-taking be- 300
285. moii\ Om. Pope-f . 295. tong»\ngraffed\ Hyphen, Pope.
287. w; the\ is the Q,. ingraffed'^ engraffed F,F^, Knt,
288. hath noi bttn\ hath henu Ff, Dyce, Sta. Glo. Mob. ingrafted Qq» Rowe, Knt, Del. i, Sch. Cap. Jen. Cam. Wr. emgrafted F6pe+»
290. too\ too too F.FjF^, Rowe. Sieev. Var. Coll. Sing. Wh. grossly] groffeQji. 296. the] Om. Qq.
2^ from his age to receive] Ff+, 298. starts] stars Q^.
Jen. Knt, Wh. Sch. to receive from his yoo. There is] Then his Anon.*
age Qq et cet. compliment] Johns, complement
295. imperfe^ums] impetfe^lion Qq. 'QqFf.
future residence. All we know is, that he was to abide alternately with them in whatsoever part they held their court.
For ellipsis of the verb of motion after vrill and is^ see Abbott, $ 405.
288. bath not beeii] Dycb says that the reading of the Ff defies common sense. SCHiODT, while acknowledging that the *not' may have dropped by mischance from the line of the Ff, thinks that a good sense may yet be extracted from that line by making * have ' emphatic Thus : All our observation in the past is little in comparison with what we may expect in the future, to judge from Lear's treatment of Cordelia.
291. age] MOBS&LY : These women come of themselves, and at once, to the feel- ing which it requires all lago's art to instil into Othello; on whom it is at length urged that Desdemona must be irregular in mind, or she would not have preferred him to the * curled darlings ' of Venice.
293. time] Wright: That is, his best and soundest yean. See I, ii, 46.
295. ingraffed] Wright : This spelling, and that in the Qq, are both used by Sh«, though the fonner b the more correct, the word being derived from the Fr« greffer. In Lsurece^ 1062, we find the substantive *grafil*
295. condition] Malons i That is, the qualities of mind, confirmed by long habit
ACT t, S& L] KING LEAR \\
tween France and him. Fray you, let us hit together; if 301 our &ther carry authority with such disposition as he b«u3, this last surrender of his will but offend us.
Reg. We shall further think of it
Gon. We must do something, and i' th' heat \Exeunt. 305
501. France\ Burgundy Han. Han.
Prayyou\ pray Qq. 302. dispostHon\ Ff -I-, Sch. di/po/9»
UtuikU\ Theob. lets kii Qq. twns Qq et cet 010.+, Mob. Ut usfii Ff, Rowe, Pope, 304. of U\ otCt Qq, Cap. Glo.-l-.
Han. Cap. Ec. Knl, Sch. 305. t ' M'] U'h Qq.
302. authority vntXl authority^ with
301. hit] Steev£NS: That is, let ns agree. Hudson: The meaning of what foUows probably is, if the king continue in the same rash, headstrong, and incon- stant temper, as he has just shown, in snatching back his authority the moment his will is crossed, we shall be the worse off for his surrender of the kingdom to us. SaocmT {Zur Textkritik^ p. 15) earnestly contends, but I am afraid in vain, for ' sit ' of the Ff. ' To strike together,' he says, « or to act in harmony, as it is expressed by ** to hit together," is not a matter of free will, but proceeds directly firom the nature of things, and is not something to which one can be invited. . . . Whereas, the phrase ** sit together," has the plain and manifest meaning — to hold a session, to take counsel together. Goneril would forthwith see a common plan agreed upon, and to Regan*8 dilatory answer: " We shall think further of it," replies : " We must do something, and i' th' heat," and for this an agreement is of course essential, and an agreement she demands in the words ** let us sit together." ' Schmidt then adduces the fol« lowing instances in proof: Twelfth Night, I, y, 143; Ham, V, i, 4; Hen, V: V, ii. So; Rich, III: HI, i, 173; Cor. V, ii, 74; lb, V, iii, 131 ; Per, H, iii, 92. But in aU these instances, except, perhaps, the last, there b reference to a judicial assembly or a session more or less formal and solemn, and a meaning is conveyed which I cannot but think strained when applied to an agreement between two sisters. — Ed.
302. disposition] Dycb: As to 'dispositions' or dispositianf-^ixhtx reading may stand ; we have afterwards both forms from the mouth of the presenLspeaker. See I, iv, 215 and 286.
305. heat] Stesvems : That b« we must strike while the iron is hoL
4*
42 KING LEAR [actlscU.
Scene IL The Earl of Giaucesten^s castle.
Enter Edmund, wiih a Utter.
Edm. Thou, Nature, art my goddess ; to thy law i
My services are bound Wherefore should I
Scene ii.] Om. Rowe. Scene vi. Enter..Jetter.] Rowe (subs.). Enter
Pope +, Jen. BafUrd Tolas. Qq (felas Q,.) Enter
The...castle.] A Oistle belonging to Baftard. Ff.
the Earl of Glo'ster. Pope. A Hall in 1-26. Thou,„news /] Prose, Qq. the Earl of Gloster's Castle. Cap.
EocLES disapproves of this order of the scenes; in his judgement the accusation 01 Edgar by Edmund labours under a weight of improbability, which is increased the longer that Edgar remains concealed without taking any steps to vindicate him- self; that he should lie thus quiet, during all the time that passes from the opening day of the tragedy to Lear's stormy departure for Gloster's castle, is < an outrage upon common sense too gross to be admitted,' thinks Eccles, who, therefore, trans* poses this scene to the beginning of Act II, bringing it immediately before the scene where Edmund persuades Edgar to fly, and pretends that he has been wounded. Thus, the two scenes are ' brought within the compass of the same day, and a few hours only, or less, may be conceived to intervene between them.' This consum- mation, however, is not attained without loss ; for Sh. clearly intended that this scene should be where he put it, as the second of the tragedy : Gloster enters sadly, mut* tering : < Kent banished thus, And France in choler parted ? And the king gone to- night ? subscribed his power ? Confined to exhibition ? All this done upon the gad 1' (lines 23-26). But Eccles says that Sh. was liable to 'unhappy oversights' of dra« matic probability, and this must be one ; ' these obnoxious lines,' therefore, he cuts out and 'degrades' to the bottom of the page, begging forgiveness for the act, on the ground that he is ' in pursuit of a favorite object which is essential to the rea- sonableness and consistency of this admirable drama; more especially as the lines in themselves are of small importance, and the only ones so treated ' by him.
I. Nature] Warburton : Sh. makes this bastard an atheist. Italian atheism had much infected the English court. Steevens : Edmund speaks of ' nature' in oppo- sition to ' custom,' and not to the existence of a God. Edmund means only, that as he came not into the world as ' custom ' or law had prescribed, so he had nothing to do but to follow ' nature ' and her laws, which make no difference between legitimacy and illegitimacy, between the eldest and the youngest. To contradict Warburton's assertion yet more strongly, Edmund concludes this very speech by an invocation to heaven. Mason: Edmund calls 'nature' his 'goddess' for the same reason that we call a bastard a natural son,— one who, according to the law of nature, is the child of his father, but according to that of civil society is nuUim filim, COLB^ UDGE: In this speech of Edmund yon see as soon as a man cannot reconcile him- self to reason, how his conscience flies off by way of appeal to Nature, who is snre upon such occasions never to find fault, and also how shame sharpens a predisposi- tion in the heart to evil. For it is a profound moral, that shame will naturally gene* rate guilt; the oppressed wiU be vindictive, like Shylock, and in the anguish of undeserved ignominy the delusion secretly springs up, of getting over the moni quality of an action by fixing the mind on the m^ire physical act alone.
ACT I, SC IL] KING LEAR 43
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me.
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines 5
Lag of a brother? Why bastard ? wherefore base ?
3. in\ to Han. on Quincy (MS). Cap. Jen.
pfagui] plagi Warb. place Simp- 4. deprtue] despUe Quincy (MS),
son. tyranny Mrs. Griffiths. me^ mtt Ff.
4. €Hriosiiy\ nicety Pope, curtesie 6. lVhy,.,base f\ and why bastard? Theob. Warb. courtesy Han. Johns. base? Han.
3. plague] Warbvrton : An absurd expression. 'RtfAplage^ i, e, the place, the country, the boundary of custom. Plage is in common use amongst the old English writers. Capell : The speaker calls * custom ' a * plague ' or vexation, and asks why he should ' stand in it,' meaning be exposed to it, Johnson : I can scarcely think
* plague ' right. Staunton : * Plague ' may here possibly signify /Air«, or boundary fipom plaga ; but it b a very suspicious word. Wright : I cannot help thinking that Sh. had in his mind a passage in the Prayer-book Version of Putlm xxxviii, 17, *And I truly am set in the plague;' where * plague' b used in a sense for which I have found no parallel. The version evidently follows the Latin of Jerome's transla- tion, ' Quia ego ad plagam paratus sum.' Halliwell : Edmund cites for a reason of the contempt of the world not merely his illegitimacy, but his juniority, so that the plague is here also the infectious rule of custom, that bids the younger yield to the elder, a decree he determines wickedly to evade by becoming the only son.
4. curiosity] Theobald: This should be curtesie, as in ^j You Like It^ I, i, 49. Nor must we forget that tenure in our laws, whereby some lands are held by the
* curtesie of England.' And I ought to take notice that I had the concurrence of the ingenious Dr. Thirlby, who hinted to me this very emendation before he knew I made it. Heath : It is not suitable to Edmund's character to term that a curtesy which he endeavors to expose as a folly, and in virtue of which he was to be him- self so great a suffisrer. Mason : By * curiosity ' Edmund means the nicety ^ the tirictnesst of civil institutions. White : * Curiosity ' b what Johnson would have called scrupulosity. Walker ( Vers, 201) : The t' in -ity b almost uniformly dropt in pronunciation. I believe that Sh. pronounced curiouity ; for, according to our common pront^ndation, thb verse b a verse only in name. The Bible Word* BOOK cites, • The Scripture then being acknowledged to bee so full and so perfect, how can wee excuse our selues of negligence, if we doe not studie them, of curiositie, if we be not content with them.' — The Translators to the Reader, Abo : * Now, as concerning the funerab and enterring of her, I pray you, let the same be performed without all curiositie and superstition.' — Holland's Plutarch, Morals, p. 533. [Cot* grave : Curiosity : daintinesse, nicenesse; affectation. See I, i, 5, and I, iv, 66.— Ed.]
4. deprive] Steevens: Synonymous in Shakespeare's time with disinherit, Wright: Compare Baret's Ahfearie [s. v. todeprive'\\ *To cast hb sonne out of hb house, to depriue or put him from the hope of succession, or inheritance, for some misdeede: to abastardize him.'
6. Lag] In Bell's Shakespeare s Puck, iii, 94, there b a suggestion, founded on a mbapprehension of the passage, that thb word may have been originally the same as the word law as found in the hunting phrase of 'giving a stag so much law before the dogs are let loose.'
44 KING LEAR [acti,sc.u.
When my dimensions are as well compa£l, 7
My mind as generous and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue ? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? 10
Who in the lusty stealth of nature take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth» within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops.
Got 'tween asleep and wake ? Well then, S
Legitimate Edg^ar, I must have your land
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to the legitimate ; fine word, ' legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base 20
7. dimensions] dewuntions Qq. Jen. Mai. enaHng Pope<f , Ec,
9. As.„issue\ One line, Jen. 15. asleefii] Cap. O'Skep Pope+* a
10. With..,baser] WUhBa/if With JUepe Q^F^F,. a JU^ F,F^, Rowe.
ha/ems Barftadief Bafe^ Bafet F, JUepe Q^.
(same panctuation F.FjFJ. vnihhaife^ then\th£^. then, good broikeTf
bafe baftardie t Qq, Jen. Han,
13. duU^ staU\/iaU duU ^f\. \%, fine word^* legitimate P'lOm.^. tired]tyred¥U fyedQ^. UedQ^. 20. the base] thee base Ktly (mis-
14. Goto] GoF^T^, print?). th* creating} the creating of Qqt
6. bastard] Hanmer : Edmund inveighs against the tyranny of custom, both in respect to younger brothers and to bastards. But he must not be understood, in the former, to mean himself; the argument becomes general by implying more than is said : * Wherefore should I or any man/ &c. Boswell : Why should he not mean himself in both instances? He was a younger brother. MoBSRLY: The word is from the Celtic 'bas-tardh' (low birth). The Welsh, however, only learned very unwillingly in Edward I's time to adopt the English '^curiosity ' as regards illegiti- mate children. [Can. we not infer from this line and line 10 that the pronunciation in Shakespeare's time was base-tard?]
9. madam's] Delius : As b frequently the case in Sh. it is hef e used ironically.
14. the creating] Abbott, § 93. Although this is a noun, and therefore pre- ceded by 'the,' yet it is so far confused with the gerund as to be allowed the privilege of governing a direct object. See Macb. I, iv, 8.
14. fops] According to Schmidt this does not mean fools or dandies, as it does now, but du^es^ — that is, men who are destined to be duped or deceived by men of 'more composition and fierce quality.' Furthermore, this original meaning of the word b found in all the instances of its use by Sh. Compare ' Thb b the excellent foppery of the world,' line Z12; that b, dupery,
15. 'tween] Dodd: I think the passage originally stood •aiween sleep and wake.' The a might very easily have been so transposed.
ACT I. SC il] KING LEAR 45
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper; 2i
Now; gods, stand up for bastards I
EnUr GtOUCESTER.
Ghu. Kent banish'd thus ? and France in choler parted ? And the king gone to-night? subscribed his power?
31. /<^M/]Cap. /00M'Qq(/^^Q3). 2t. Igrcfw;Iprosper\Ay^grow;ay^
iif th* F,F,. to th' FjF^, Rowc, Pope i. prosper Sch. conj.
U M' Pope ii+. tot th' Han. Mai. foe 23. Scene vii. Pope+» Jeiu
the Mason, to the Del. Ktly. 24. subscribed^ fuhfcribd Q,. fub-
iegitimate.'] Johns^ legitimate: ferib'd Q^ Pre/crib*d F(,KowetKxiU
QqFf, Han. legitimate— Rowe, Pope» Sch. Del. Ktly.
21. top] Hammer : As < the treading upon another's heels' is an expression used to signify the being not far behind him, so to toe another means to come up to and be on even ground with him. Warburton : Here the Oxford editor would show OS that he is as good at coining phrases as his author, and so alters the text thus: * Shall toe the legitimate,' 1. e, says he, * stand on even ground with him ;' as he would do with his author. Edwards {Canons of Crit,^ p. 221, ed. 7} : Poor Sir Thomas t Woe be to you, if you invade Mr. Warburton's prerogative of coining words for Sh. t One may fairly say here that < the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of our tourtier that it galls his kibe.' But Mr. Warburton ought to have taken notice that the old reading is 'shall to th' legitimate,' which, though it misled Sir Thomas, may perhaps direct to the rig^t word : 'Shall top the,' &c., which he would do if he got the inheritance from him, thoogh that could not make him be the legitunate. [These notes are given as instances of the amenities that help to make the early comments on Sh. so full of ' sweetness and light.' — Ed.] Cafell, referring to this emendation of Edwards, says, that 'it appear'd in the Canons, into which it was receiv'd from this editor (together with other communications concerning readings of copies) by *haC ingenious work's writer : This emendation will have no impugners or doubters, if that corruption be look'd upon out of which it arose ; if it's opposition to " base " be consider'd, and (which is yet a stronger matter than either) it's connection with ^ grow," which has no natural introduction unless preceded by " top." ' Jennens : If conjecture be made without any regard to the traces of the letters, out or rout are better than be, Malone : In Devonshire, as Sir Joshua Reynolds informs me, ' to toe a thing up is to tear it up by the roots; in which Sense the word is perhaps used here, for Edmund immediately adds " I grow, I prosper." ' Delius thus vindicates Rowe's reading, which he follows : ' The Bastard, if his plan succeed, will to the legitimate-^ What he will inflict upon him he does not say ; he is interrupted by the entrance of his father, at the mere sight of whom he exclaims, in tones of assured victory, " I grow, I prosper." ' [For other instances of the use of this word in the lame sense see Schmidt's Lex,"] >Yichols {Notes, &c., No. 2, p. 9) follows the Ff^ •nd interprets : ' Shall advance to, or take the place of, the legitimate.'
24. subscribed] Johnson : To ' subscribe ' is to transfer by signing or subscrib- ing a writing of testimony. Malone : In Sh. it means to yield, or surrender. So ffterwards III, ii, 18; also Tro, and Cres, IV, v, 10$. WHITE: That is, yielded. This seems to be a perversion of the figurative use of ' subscribe ' in the sense of
46 KING LEAR [act 1.80.8.
Confined to exhibition ? All this dene 25
Upon the gad I — Edmund, how now I what news ?
Edm. So please your lordship, none.
Clou. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter ?
Edm. I know no news, my lord.
Glou, What paper were you reading ? 30
Edm. Nothing, my lord
Glou. No ? What needed then that terrible dispatch of
^'^» thisd«mi\thisdonne^, this gome cet. Om. QqFT. F,F,F^, Rowc. is gom Pope, Theob. a8. Wky\ WJu F,.
Han. Warb. 32. needed\ needes Q,. medt Q^
27. [Putting up the letter— Rowe ct terribie] terrihe Q,.
smhrnt, to which ^/V is a sjrnonyme, though not in a transitive sense; e.g. Tam^ Skr. I, i, 81. Pracribt of the Folio might be accepted in the sense of Umiied, eir^ emmscrWd his power, were it not that the king is manifestly the nominative under- stood. SCHifim' [Zmr TextkritiJk, &c, p. 16) prefers ^escribed, which he says means ' his power is restricted, limited, confined in its exercise. Hie expression is not exactly what might have been expected from Gloucester; we might wish for a word a little less tame when applied to an event which so greatly excites him, but it is perfectly intelligible.' From the expression ' Prescribe not us our duties,* I, i, 275, Schmidt infen that * prescribe ' need not of necessity be followed by ' to,' and thus Sh. might have used the passive form ' we are prescribed our duties.' If this be so, then he conjectures that we might punctuate these lines differently: 'And the king gone to-night ? prescribed ? his power Confined to exhibition ?' [Dr. Schmidt failed to note that the < to' is not really absent in < Prescribe not us our duties,' but is simply absorbed in the preceding < not' In his edition of this play he goes even further, and says that we are nowhere justified (not even in III, vii, 64) in inter- preting * to subscribe ' by to yields to surrender^ or to submit. To me Dr. Johnson's interpretation is satisfactory. Sh. may have intended, by this one word, to convey the idea that there had been a formal abdication.— Eo.]
25. exhibition] Johnson : That is, allowance. The term is yet used in the uni- versities. Steevens: So in Two Gent, I, iii, 69. Nares: Also Jonson, Siltni ff^MVffif, III, i, 'Behave yourself distinctly and with good morality; or, I protest 1*11 take away your exhibition.' Moberly : Restricted to a mere maintenance ; as in Roman law, ' si liberi ali desiderent, ut a parente exhibeantur.' So we have 'exhibere viam' for *to keep up a road.'
26. gad] Johnson ; Upon the sudden stimulation of caprice, as cattle run mad- ding when they are stung by the gadfly. Ritson : Done suddenly, or as before^ while < the iron is hot.' A < gad ' is an iron bar. The Statute of 2 and 3 Eliza. 6, c. 27, is a < Bill against false forging of iron gadds, instead of gadds of steel.' Coluer: Upon the spur; in Tit, And, IV, 103, the hero wishes to engrave on brass with ' a gad of steel,' t. /. a point of steel. Moberly strangely defines it as «at haphazard.'
32. terrible] White : This is not the mere meaningless expletive so often used by uncultivated people. Edmund hides the letter away in haste and terror. Schmidt calls attention to the active meaning which adjectives in 'bU had in Shakespeare's
ACT I. sc. ii.] KING LEAR 47
it into your pocket ? the quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itsel£ Let's see ; come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spedtacles. 35
Edm, I beseech you, sir, pardon me ; it is a letter from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read ; and for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your o'er-looking.
Glou. Give me the letter, sir.
Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it The con- 40 tents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.
Glau. Let's see, let's see.
Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.
Glou. [Reads] ' This policy and reverence of age makes 45 ihi world bitter to tlie best of our thnes; keeps our fortunes
36. Edm.] Baft. Q,Ff. Ba. Q.. 44. taite\ test Coll. iii.
37. anif\ Om. Qq. 45. (Reads] A Letter. Qq.
38. o^eT'looking] /iAin^Qq. overlook' and reverenee'} Om. Qq. in rev* ing Warb. Johns. Jen. Steev. Ec Var. erence Han.
40, 41. I.,.blame\ Three lines, ending agel ages Pope ii, Theob. Warb.
ii.\.Jk€m.„blame. in Ff. 46. to the besfl to beft F.F^F^.
41. to hiame'\ too blame Q,Q,F,F,. times;} times F^.
time. Thus, «andible' in Cbnolantts means hearing well; 'contemptible' means eontemftuous ; ' nnmeritable,' undeserving^ &c.
41. to blame] For instances of the infinitive active for the infinitive passive, see Abbott, $ 359 and $ 405, ako Ham. IV, iv, 44.
44. essay or taste] Johnson: Though 'taste' may stand here, yet I believe we should read, ' assay or test;^ they are both metallurgical terms and properly joined. Stbbvens : Both are terms from royal tables. See V, iii, 144. Singer: Thus Baret, Ahearie: ' to Assay or rather Essay of the French woorde Essayer} and afterwards : 'To tast or assay before. Pralibo.* Wright: Proof or trial. The two words ' essay ' and ' assay ' are etymologically the same. In i Samuel, xvii, 39, it is said of David in Saul's armour that he ' assayed to go,' that is, tried or attempted to go. ' Taste ' occurs both as a noun and verb as synonymous with * test.' Compare i I/en. IV: IV, i, 119. Cotgrave has, 'Essay: m. An essay, proofe • • . also, the tast, or Essay taken of Princes meat, or drinke.' [See Ham, II, ii, 411 : 'a taste of yoitr quality.']
45. policy] Capell: The beginning of Edgar's letter is darken'd by a remov'd sense of ' policy,' and our imagin*d connection of it with ' age ' or old age; ' policy ' has here the sense oi^-police^ political regiment, the world's evil [? civil] ordering; and it is of this ' policy,' and the reverence established by it, that he is made to com* plain. Schmidt considers 'policy and reverence' as a hendiadys for 'policy of Holding in reverence,' ' like respect and fortunes ' in I, i, 247.
46. the best of our times] Wright: The best periods of our lives. See I» 293.
48 KING LEAR [act I. sc u.
from lis till our oldness cannot relish them, I begin to find 47 an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny ; who sways ^ not as it hath power ^ but as it is suffered. Come to me^ that of tJiis I may speak more. If our fatlier would 50 sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy Iialf liis revalue for ever^ and live tlie beloved of your brotlier, Edgar.
Hum! Conspiracy? — Sleep tiU I waked him, you should enjoy half Ids revenue t — My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain to breed it in? — ^When 55 came this to you? who brought it?
Edm. It was not brought me, my lord ; there's the cun- ning of it ; I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet
Glou. You know the charafler to be your brother's ?
Edm. If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear 60 it were his ; but, in respedl of that, I would fain think it were not
Glou. It is his.
Edm. It is his hand, my lord ; but I hope his heart i& not in the contents. 65
Glou. Has he never before sounded you in this busi- ness ?
Edm. Never, my lord ; but I have heard him oft main-
49. who\ which Rowe-l-, Cap. ^Qi-
51,54,71. revtniu]reuen€wQq. Hen- 63. It is his. "] Itishist Q,. IsUhisf
enntw F,F,. Q,.
52. brother^ Steev. brothtr Qq, 64. buf^ Ora. Y^Y^F^-k-,
Theob. Warb. Johns. Cap. Jen. brother. 66. ffas^ Ff + , Knt. i, Dyce, DeL ii,
Ff, Rowc, Pope, Han. Sch. Hath Qq ct cct
53. SIeep'\Jlept Q(\. before\ Ff +, Knt i, Sing. Dyce, vtaked'l wakt Qq. vtake Ff+, Del. ii, Ktly, Huds. Sch. heretofore
Sch. Qq et cet.
55. brain\ a brain Rowe. 68. heard him oft] Ff +, Cap. Knt,
56, this to you] you to this Y^Y^, Sch. Dyce, Sta. GI0. + , Sch. often heard 61. his,.,respe^ of] his but in respe^, him Qq ct cet.
47. oldness] Schmidt : Not elsewhere used in Sh.
48. idle and fond] Johnson : Weak and foolish.
49. who] Wright : For which, the antecedent really being the persons implied in « tyranny.' See Abbott, 5 264.
58. closet] Private apartment. See III, iii, 10, and also Ham, II, i, 77.
59. character] It b almost needless to remark that this word is always used by Sh. in the sense of writing or handwriting. ■ See Ham. I, iii, 59.
ACTi^S&iL] KING LEAR 49
tain it to be fit, that, sons at perfe£t age, and fathers de- dined, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son 70 manage his revenue.
GUm. O villain, villain ! His very opinion in the letter 1 Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain I worse than brutish ! — Go, sirrah, seek him ; Til apprehend him ; abominable villain ! Where is he ? 75
Edfiu I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course ; where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great 80 gap in your own honour and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him that he hath writ this to feel my afTeCtion to your honour and to no other pretence of danger.
Glau. Think you so ? 85
Edm. If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an auricular
69. a£\ hang at Han. 76. lord'^ L, F,F^
pirfea'l perfit Qq. 78. his\ this Qq.
decimed] F,FjF^, Rowe, Km, 79. iA<wA/] Q,Ff (>0(«A/ F,)+,Ctp
Coll. Del. Wh. Sch. deeiind F^ de- Jen. Ec. Knt, Cam. Sch. Jhal^. JhaH
tUning Qq et cet Q, et cet.
7a tk€fathir\ hisfathir Qq. 81. cnvn\ Om. F,FjF^ Rowe, PopCt
as ward'] as a Ward Q,, Pope -f • Han.
71. his] thi Qq. 82. that] Om. Qq.
73. Abhorred] AbhorridQ^ 83. writ] wrote Qq, GI0.+, Mob.
73, 74, bmtish] bruitijk Q^JP^ 84. other] further Qq, GI0.+, Mob. Rowe, Pope. 87. eonfer of this] confer this F^F^,
74, nrraK] fir Qq. Rowe.
/'//]Rowe. /GpF,F^ PliY^^. auricular] aunpOar Qi\.
IQr /»Qi- tfr,Cam. Wr.
69. sons nt perfect nge] For instances of the participle being implied, in the utse of a simple word, such as beiug, see Abbott, $ 381. 79. where] For instances of the use of ' where ' for whereas^ see Abbott, S 134-
83. jFOur honour] Malonb : The nsual address to a lord in Shakespeare's time.
84. pretence] Johnson: That is, design, purpose. So afterwards, I, iv, 67. Stebvsns : I can venture to assert, with some degree of confidence, that Sh. never uses this word in any other sense. Schmidt {Lex.) gives five instances (of which one, vis i Cymb. Ill, iv, 106, is, I think, doubtful) where it means preUxt, DvcB, in his Gioss., gives no other definition than Johnson's, and cites none of these ^ifn fastances given by Schmidt.
S D
50 KING LEAR [act I, sa iL
assurance have your satisfaflion, and that without any fur- ther delay than this very evening.
Glou. He cannot be such a monster — ^
* Edm. Nor is not, sure.
* Glou. To his father, that so tenderly and. entirely loves
* him. Heaven and earth 1 * Edmund, seek him out , wind me into him, I pray you ; frame th^ business after your own wisdom. I would unstate myself, to be in a due resolution. 95
90. monstir — ] Dyce, Del. ii, Huds. 94. him^ I pray you : /rami] Aim, 1 GI0.+, Mob. monster, QqFf et cct. fray you frame Qq.
91-93. Edm. Nor., .earth /] Qq. Om. the] your Qq.
Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. Sch.'
91, 93. Nor • . . earth] Schmidt {JZur Textkritik^ &c., p. 18) makes a strong point in favour of omitting these words, as is done in the Ff. ' Were there any reproach/ he says, 'against which it would be hard to defend Sh., it would be the relation between Gloster and Edgar. A father *< that so tenderly and entirely loves" his son, but, like Gloucester, condemns him unheard, and drives him forth to misery, is a miscreant in the drama as well as in real life. ... If there be any*sin* gle trait which is characteristic of this scene, as well as of the similar first scene of Uie second Act, it is that not a word of sympathy and warmth for his sons falls from the lips of Gloucester. His levity, when talking with Kent in the very first scene of the play, sufficiently betrays Uie superficial sense of his marital and parental duties. Only when Edgar is as- though dead to him, and the fate of Lear begins to cast its dark shadow over himself (IH, vi), does something of fatherly feeling awaken at the thought of his son, hunted through the land. Hitherto, he is indif. ferent and heartless. Evidently his sons have never stood near to his heart ; he knows them not,— nor what might be expected from either the one or the other. That Edmund, before the time when the action of the play begins, lias been **out" nine years in foreign parts is expressly mentioned, and in one way or another Edgar has been equally a stranger .... and is no more to him than Edmund,— <* no dearer in my account," f. e. is of as little account. He has sons and they must be acknow- ledged, and therein he lias done his part. Such and no other is the idea that Sh. would have us form of Gloucester, and therefore he could never have written the words : " To his father that so tenderly and entirely loves him." They stand in contradiction to all that precedes and follows. They are doubtless an addition made by some sensational actor, and they crept into the Qq through some copyist or re- porter.*
93. wind me] Johnson : I once thought it should be read : * wind you / but, perhaps, it is a familiar phrase, like < do me this.' [For other instances of this eth- ical dative, see Abbott, $ 220, or Macb, III, vi, 41.]
95. unstate] Heath : That is, I would give even my rank and fortune to be resolved on this point. CapELL : The state that Gloster would lay aside, if he could^ on this occasion is, hb parental state, the state of father, which endangered hit judging rightly, two ways-— by acting upon his affections as a kind father, or on his resentments as an injured one. Johnson thus paraphrases : * Do you frame the bus-
ACTl.SC.ii.] KING LEAR 5 1
Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently, convey the business 96 as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.
Glou. These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us ; though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the se- lOO quent efTefls; love cools, friendship falls off, brothers di- vide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces,
96. wiU] Jkall Q<\, 99. if\ Om. Qq.
97. find] fee Qq, Jen. 100. ieqwtU\ frequent Tbeob. t 9S> 134. eclipses] Elipfes F^ t02. discord] difcords Qq» Jen.
98. moon] the moon Cap. conj. in- palaces] PaUaces QgQ..
99. na/ure] mankind Hao.
Iness who can act with less emotion; I would unstate myself; it wonld be in me a departure from the paternal character, to be in a due resolution, to be settled and com« posed on such an occasion.' Tyrwhxtt : It means simply : * I would give my estate ' (including rank as well as fortune). [There can be no doubt that Heath and lyr* whitt give the correct interpretation.]
95. resolution] Dycb {Gloss.) : Conviction, assurance.
96. convey] Johnson: To manage artfully. [See Mud, IV, iii, 71.]
98. These late eclipses] Capbll: This descant upon what were then esteemed natural prodigies is a weakness which serves admirably to give a requisite degree of the probable to Gloucester's incredulity. Moberly : As to current belief in astrology, we may remember that, at the time when this play was written, Dr Dee, the cele* brated adept, was grieving for his lost patroness. Queen Elizabeth ; that the profligate court of James I. was in 1618 frightened by the appearance of a comet into a tern* porary.fit of gravity; and that even Charles I. sent 1^500 as a fee to William Lilly for consulting the stars as to his flight from Hampton Court in 1647. [Sec Appendix, * Date of the Composition,' p. 379.]
99. wisdom of nature] Johnson : Though natural philosophy can give account of eclipses, yet we feel their consequences. Walker ( Crit. i, 287) marked ' nature ' ss *possafy wrong.' Lettsom (in a foot-note to Walker) : I think man would be better [than mankind of Hanmer] ; but perhaps * nature ' crept in from below with- out displacing any word ; lAe or y* was a mistake for y, and of was purposely in- serted to make some sense of 'the wisdom nature.' Sh. perhaps wrote merely *jOMr wisdom," as 'j^our excellent sherris.' Keightlky reads < wisdom of man* in his text. [* Wisdom of nature ' means : wisdom concerning nature, the know- ledge of natural laws. — ^Ed.] Mobsrly : This curious view is repeated, with re- markable force of languid, by Sir T. Browne, even ]» the less credulous times (Buckle, i, p. 336) when he wrote his Treatise on Vulgar Errors: * That two suns or moons shoiUd appear, is not worth the wonder. But that the same should fall out at the point of some decisive action, that these two should make but one line in the book of fate, and stand together in the great Ephemerides of God, besides the phil- osophical assignment of the cause, it may admit a Christian apprehension in the sig* nality' (i, 2). We learn also from Bishop Burnet that Lord Shaftesbury believed in astrology, and thought that the souls of men live in the stars.
52 KING LEAR [ACT I, SC. U.
treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and &ther. This villain of mine comes under the predi6tion; there's son against father; the king falls from bias of nature; there's 105 fiither against child We have seen the best of our time; machinations, hollowness, treachety and all ruinous dis- orders follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished 1 his offence, 1 10 honesty ! Tis strahge. \ExiU
Edm. This is the excellent foppery of the world, that
103. andthi h<md\ the bond Qq. Ill* hoHesty\ haneft Qq.
*izmxt'\ httweene Qq> Cap. MaL *Tu strange^ ftrange Jhrange I
Steer. Bos. ColL Sing. Wh. Ktly. Q,. ftrange^ ftrange I Q^ Cap. Steer.
103-108. ThisviUain.,^ave».'\ Om. Ec Var. Sing.
Qq. [Exit.] Om. Qq.
105. hiaillyasV^^ fyasF^ bia/s 112. SCBNSvm. Pope+,Je]u
f*^
108. disquietly] DSLIU9 : This is used causatively.
109. lose tfaee]| Note the change to the more affectionate * thee.* See also IV» Ti, 30.^£d.
112. Wa&burtons la Shakespeare's best pla][S, besides the vic^ that arise from the subject, there is generally some petaliar prevailing folly, principally ridiculed, that nms through the whole piece. Thus, in The Tempea^ the lying disposition of travellers, and in At You LUe It^ the fantastick hnmoar of courtiers are exposed and satirized with infinite pleasantry. In like manner, in this play of Lear, the dotages of judicial astrology are severely ridiculed. I fancy, was the date of its first per- formance well considered, it would be found that something or other happened at that time which gave a more than ordinary run to this deceit, as these words seem to intimate : * I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.' However this be, an imjnous cheat, which had so little foun* dation in nature or reason, so detestable an original, and such fatal consequences on the manners of the people, who were at that time strangely besotted with it, cer- tainly deserved the severest lash of satire. It was a fundamental in this noble science, that whatever seeds of good dispositions the infant unborn might be endowed with, either from nature, or traductively from its parents, yet if, at the time of its birth, the delivery was by any casualty so accelerated or retarded as to fall in with the predominancy of a malignant constellation, that momentary influence would entirely change its nature, and bias it to all the contrary ill qualities. So wretched and mon- strous an opinion did it set out with. But the Italians, to whom we owe this, as well as most other uimatural crimes and follies of these latter ages, fomented its original impiety to the most detestable height of extravagance. Petms Aponensis, an Italian physician- of the 13th century, assures us that those prayers which are made to God when .the moon is in conjunction with Jupiter in the Dragon's tail, are infallibly heard. . . . The great Milton, with a just indignation of this impiety, hath, in his Paradise Regained (Book IV, 383), satirized it in a very beautiful jnazmer, by
ACT I, sc. ii.] KING LEAR ^%
when we are sick in fortune,— often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — ^we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and stars; as if we were villains on necessity, fools 115
113. suffeWl Q,. furfet Q,. furfets the stars Qq ct cct. Siarres F.FJF^. F,F.F,. /Kf/W&F, Rowe+,Sch. 115. w]Ff+,Cap.Knt,Sch. fyQq
11$, stars'] F^, Rowe+, Knt, Sch. et cet.
putting these reveries into the mouth of the devil. . . . Nor could the licentious Rabelais himself forbear to ridicule this impious dotage, which he does with exquisite address and humour, where in the fable which he so agreeably tells from iEsop of the man who applied to Jupiter for the loss of his hatchet, he makes those who, on the poor man's good success, had projected to trick Jupiter by the same petition, a kind of astrologic atheists, who ascribed this good fortune that they imagined they were now all going to partake of, to the influence of some rare conjunction and configuration of the stars. • Hen, hen, dirent ilz^Et doncques telle est an temps present la revolution des Cieulx, la constellation des Astres, et aspect des Planetes, que qui* conques coingn^e perdra sonbdain deuiendra ainsi riche?' — J^au. ProL du IV Zwrt.—But to return to Sh. So blasphemous a delusion, therefore, it became the honesty of our poet to expose. But it was a tender point, and required managing. For this impious juggle had in his time a kind of religious reverence paid to it. It was therefore to be done obliquely; and the circumstances of the scene furnished him as good an opportunity as he could wish. The persons in the drama are aU Pagans, so that as, in compliance to custom, his good characters were not to speak ill of judicial astrology, they could on account of their religion give no reputation to it But in order to expose it the more, he with great judgement makes these Pagans fatalists, as appears by these words of Lear, * By all the operations of the orbs. From whom we do exist and cease to be.' For the doctrine of fate b the true foundation of judicial astrology. Having thus discredited it by the very commen* dations given to it, he was in no danger of having his direct satire against it mis- taken, by its being put (as he was obliged, both in paying regard to custom and in following nature) into the mouth of the villain and atheist, especially when he has added .such force of reason to his ridicule, in the words referred to in the beginning of the note. Coleridg£: Thus scorn and misanthropy are often the anticipations and mouthpieces of wisdom in the detection of superstitions. Both individuals and nations may be free from such prejudices by being below them, as weU as by rising above them.
XI 2. foppery] See note on 'fops,' line 14.
113. surfeit] Colusr: Is there not room to suspect that Sh. may have written forfeit^-i. e, the penalty of our own misconduct Schmidt {Zur TextkrUik^ &c, p. 19) follows the plural of the Ff, and thinks that only a bUnd prejudice in favour of the Qq can give preference to the singular. In his ed. Schmidt refers to the similar passage in Rich. II: II, ii» 84, * Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made.'
115. stars] I prefer the reading of the Ff, because particular stars are referred to, not ' the stars ' in general. — Ed.
115. on necessity] Schmidt {Zur Texthritih, &c, p. 19) : Usage is in favour of by, but 'on' is Shakespearian. < On necessity' occurs twice in close succession in Lov^s Lab. L, I, i, 149, 155; « ^^ necessity ' is found nowhere else in Sh. He
54 KING LEAR [act I. sa iL
by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers, by 1 16 spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulteters, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence , and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish dispo- I20 sition to the charge of a star! My father compounded with my mother under the dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa major; so that it follows 1 am rough and lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastard- 125 izing. Edgar —
116. tnackirs]incherenCif\, treach* 125. matdinlu9i\mauUnteft^^^^ trous Pope 4 . trechen Cap. m] of Qq.
1 17. sphirual] SphiruaiiF^. Spkari- bastardinng] bafiardy Qq ra//F,. fpiriiuall Qf\. 126,127. Edgar^.,uind pat] Jen.
120, 121. iay..Mar\iryhisgoiishdi/' (subs.) Edgar^ Enter Edgar. 6* out pofion to the cKarg of hart Q . Q. Edgar; and out (Enter Edgar, in
disposition to'\difpoJU»0Hou¥i^^ margin) Q^. Enter Edgar. Pat: Ff-f,
Knt, Del. Sta. Sch. Knt, Del Dyce i. Sch. Enter Edgar,
121. charge\ change Warb. Edgar/ Pat; Cap. Edgar^ Enter Ed- a star'\Jiars Q^ Cap. Jen. CoU. i. gar. Pat .'— Stecv '73. E^ar / pat
Starra Q,. Dyce ii.
124. lecherous] treacherous Theob. Enter...] After Bedlam, line 129,
conj. (withdrawn). Dyce ii, Sta. Huds.
7W]Jen. PutQq. Om.Ff-l-, i26-i2g, Edgar^,.ufitnsions I] As
Cap. Knt, Sch. « Aside * by Cap.
that] what Pope+ 126. Scene ix. Pope+
has an nnmxstakable preference for the prepositions * on ' and * npon * to express that which gives the motive or impulse to anything. Thus, in the following examples, where in popular speech other prepositions would be used : E. ofZ., 186, < he doth debate What following sorrow, mky on this arise.' Meas,for Meets. IV, i, 72 : 'hus- band on a pre-contract' King John^ V, i, 28 : < it should be on constraint.' Rich, // • I, i, 9 : 'If he appeal the duke on ancient malice, or ... on some known ground of treachexy.' Rich, III: IV, i, 4; Ham, V, ii, 406 [Glo. ed.] ; Ant, 6* Cleop, III» xi, 68; Mer. of Ven, IV, i, 104: I Htn. IV: II, iv, 331. X16. treachers] Dycb((7Avx.): Traitors.
118. Influence] Schmidt: Used by Sh. only in the sense of planetary influence. 121. to the charge] Schmidt adheres to the Ff, although, as he .confesses, 'on
the charge ' is contrary not only to present usage, but also to Shakespearian. • ' But this is no reason why we should prefer " to" of the Qq. "To lay something on one " is a very common expression in Sh., and we have in the present passage a confusion of construction which is not unusual. In Mer. of Ven, III, iv, 66 : '* I'll speak be* tween the change of man and boy" — t'. ^. as if I were between man and boy.'
124. Tut] Dyce: Put of the Qq seems to be a misprint for 'Tut,' rather than intended for Foot or *Sfoot.
ACT I, sc. u.] KING LEAR 55
EnUr Edgar.
And pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old comedy. 127 My cue is villanous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. Oh, these eclipses do portend these divisions 1 &, sol, la, mi. 130
Edg. How, now, brother Edmund 1 what serious con- templation are you in?
Edfiu I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.
128. My cui\ miu€ Qq. 129, Ijo. /a^...mL] Fa^—Soi^ La^ Mt. Hih'\ fighe F,. fOh Q^ Ff. Om. Qq.
Tom ^] them of Qq. 130. [Humming. Han.
129. do portend] portend Va^-^-.
127. cntastrophe] Heath : That is, just as the drcumstance which decides the catastrophe of a play intervenes on the very nick of time, when the action is wound up to its crisis, and the audience are impatiently expecting it.
128. cue] Bolton Cornky {N. &* Qu,s Aug. 1865) cites the following deCint« tion of this word from Butler's EngHsk Grammar ^ 1634: * Q. A note of entrance for actors, because it is the first letter of ^tMM^<9— when, shewing when to enter and speak.' WsDGWOOD adopts this definition, but also cites Blinshen: * A gu^ a.term used among stage-players, a Lat puUis ue.Bt what manner of word the actors are to begin to speak, one after another has done his speech.' The Fr. term is replique^ Wright apparently derives it from Fr. puue^ a tail.
129. fa, 80I, la, mi] Dr Burnky > Sh. shows by the context that he was well acquainted with the property of these syllables in solmixation, which imply a series of sounds so unnatural Uiat ancient musicians prohibited their use. The monkish writers on music say: mi eontra fa estdiabotus: the interval /i mt, including a tritonust or sharp 4thy consisting of three tones without the intervention of a semi* tone, expressed in the modem scale by the letters p o A B, would form a musicals phrase extremely disagreeable to the ear. Edmund, speaking of eclipses as portents and prodigies, compares the dislocation of events, the times being out of joint, to the unnatural and offensive sounds, « fa sol la mi.' Whxtb: According to modem Italian solmization, fa sol la H; i, e. a prc>gression through the interval of a fourth, ending upon the seventh or leading note of the scale; which, unless followed by the tonic, or used for some very special effect, is a most distracting figure, based upon the most poignant of discords. In Shakespeare's time, and until a comparatively recent date, the syllables for solmization, instead of do re mi fa tol la si, were fa soi la fdsoila mi. Sh. often shows that he was a musician as well as a lover of music Wright: For Dr Buraey's note, Mr Chappell assures me, there is not the slightest foundation. Edmund is merely singing to himself in order not to seem to observe Edgar's approach. [Just as Mistress Quickly sings < And down, down, adown-a ' in Meny fTnuv, I, iii, 44, when Doctor Caius is approaching. — Ed.] Mobsrly : The trae explanation probably is that the sequence * fa sol la mi ' (with * mi ' descending) li like a deep sigh, as may be easily heard by triaL
56 KING LEAR [act I, sc. iL
Edg, Do you busy yourself with that? 135
Edm. I promise you, the effefb he writes of succeed unhappily; * as of unnaturalness between the child and the
* parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities ; di-
* visions m state, menaces and malediflions against king and
* nobles ; needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissi- 140 "^ pation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what
* Edg. How long have you been a se£lary astronomical ?
* Edm. Come, come,* when saw you my father last? Edg. The night gone by.
Edtn, Spake you with him ? 145
Edg. Ay, two hours together
Edmt^ Parted you in good terms ? Found you no dis- pleasure m him by word nor countenance ?
Edg. None at all.
Edm. Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended 150 him; and at my entreaty forbear his presence until some
135. withl tf30K/QqJen.Glo+,Mob. Sta. Wh. Huds. Sch. Why the Q^
136. you\ Om. F.FjF^. Why^ thiQ^ei cet. wriies'] writ Qq, Jen. Cam. Wr« 146. Ay,] /, Ff. Om. Qq.
I37~I43« ^ c/.„Come, come/I Om. 148. nor] Ff, Rowe, Dyce, Sta. Sdi.
Ff+,Cap. ^rQqetcet.
138. amUia] Q,. armies Q,. 150. may] Om. FjF^+.
141. cohorts] ^mir/^r Johns. Steev. '73, 151. until] Ff+, Jen. Ec. Sta. Sch.
CoU. iii. comforts Jen. tili Qq et cet.
144. The] Ff + , Cap. Knt, Coll. Dyce,
136. Johnson : In this speech Edmund, with the common craft of foitune-tellerSy mingles the past and future, and tells of the future only what he already foreknows by confederacy, or can attain by probable conjecture.
136. succeed] Wright: In Elizabethan Englbh the 'success* of an action was the issue or consequence, good or bad. Hence the word was used with a qualifying adjective. See Joshua, i, 8 : ' Thefi thou shalt have good success.'
137-143. As an additional proof of the spuriousness of these lines Schmidt says that there are found in them no less than six hapaz legomena, that is, words nowhere else to be found in Sh. — i. g, * unnaturalness,* * menace ' (as a noun), * malediction,'
* dissipation,' * cohort,' and < astronomical.'
140. diffidences] Wright: This now means distrust of one's self. Here it sig» nifies distrust of others. Compare King John, I, i, 65.
141. cohorts] Johnson, by a misprint in his foot-note, says, that the Quarto reads tourts. MoBSRLY : As neither of these words, * dissipation of cohorts,' are [sic^ the effect of a constant study of Sh. ? — Ed.] elsewhere used by Sh., we may sus* pect corruption. Perhaps the original may have been disproportion of thoughts^ that is, « unnatural thoughts,' as m 0th. Ill, iiL Schmidt : This cannot be e» plained by anything in Sh.
lCTi,sc.ii.l KING LEAR 57
little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, which 1 53 at this instant so rageth in him that with tbe mischief of your person it would scarcely allay.
Edg. Some villain hath done me wrong. 155
Edm. That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak ; pray ye, go ; there's my key ; if you do stir abroad, go armed 160
Edg. Armed, brother ?
Edm. Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed; I am no honest man if there be any good meaning toward you. I have told you what I have seen and heard; but &intly, nothing like the image and horror of it; pray you, 165 away.
Edg. Shall I hear from you anon ?
Edm, I do serve you in this business. — \ExU Edgar. A credulous father, and a brother noble.
Whose nature is so bx from doing harms 170
That he suspeAs none ; on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy. I see the business.
153. tniK\ without Han. Cap. 163. toward] Ff+, Jen. Knt, Dyce,
154. persoH] par/on Q,. Sta. Coll. iii, Sch. towards Qq. ct cet. scarcely] /caret Q,. fcar/e Q,. 164, 165. heard; butfaintfy^ Glo. + ,
l$^l62. fear.,,Brothert]fearebroth' Mob. heard, hit /atntfy,Qi\. heard but
tr^ Qq. fai>^fy% Dyce. heard: But faintly, Ff.
156, 162. /...Edm.] Om. Qq. heard; but faintly; Rowe. heard^ but
159. pray ye] Ff, Dyce ii, Sta. GI0.+, faintly; Pope et cet Mob. Huds. Scb. pray you Rowe et 165. it;] it^ Ff.
ceL 168. ScENB X. Pope, Han. Warb.
160, 161. armed] arm*d Ff +, Cap. Johns. Jen. Jen. Steev. Mai. Ec. Sing. Wh. Ktly» I do] I Pope Han.
Huds. [Exit Edgar.] After line 167,
162. go armed] Om. Ff-f , Knt, Coll. QJFf, Rowe, Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. Del. Dyce> Wh. Ktly, Sch.
153. with the mischief] Cafbll (reading without) : For what has Edgar to apprehend beyond a * harm of his person ' ?— yet ' with ' implies a harm beyond that, which is not of easy conception. Johnson: I believe the phrase should be 'that but with the,' &c
168. I do] Heath : If we read PU, it will be an answer to the question Edgar asks just before his leaving the stage.
172. practices] Dtcb {Gloss.) i Contrivance, artifice, stratagem, treachery, t (piracy.
S8 KING LEAR [act i, sc. iH
ILet me, if not by birth, have lands by wit; 173
All with me's meet that I can &shion fit \ExiU
ScsNB III. The Duke of Albany's palace. UnUr GONBRIL and Oswald, her steward,
Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his Fool?
Osw. Ay, madam.
Gon. By day and night he wrongs me , every hour He flashes into one gross crime or other, 5
That sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us On every trifle. When he returns from hunting, I will not speak with him ; say I am sick. If you come slack of former services, 10
You shall do well ; the fault of it I'll answer.
Osw. He's coming, madam ; I hear him.
Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please,
174. AH with mis] AlPs with m* Glo.-f , Mob.
Cap. conj. 4. nigJii\ nighty Ff, Rowe, Theob.
Scene ui.] Scena Tertia. Ff (Scsena Warb. Johns. Dyce. nigkil Cap. Steev.
F,). Scene ii. Rowe, Ec. Scene xi. Var.
Pope + , Jen. me /] me, QqF.F,.
.The...] Rowe. A room in the... 4, 5. every, „othtr^ One line, Qq.
Cap. 7 upbraids] obrayds^Xx* uprabidsQ^
Oswald, her Steward] Coll. Gentle- 8. trijle, tVhen] trifie when Qq {tH'
man. Q,. a Gentleman. Q,. Steward. Ff. fell Q,).
3, &c. Osw.] Coll. Gent. Qq. Ste. 12. [Horns within. Cap.
or Slew. Ff. 13-16. Put on...cne,} Prose» Qq.
3. jly] Rowe. /Ff. KvQq, Jen.
I. of] For instances of <of' following verbal nouns, see AsBOTTrS 178.
3. Oswald] C0LERIZX2B: The steward should be placed in exact antithesis to Kent, as the only character of utter irredeemable baseness in Sh. Even in this, the judgement and invention of the poet are very observable ; — for what else could the willing tool of a Goneril be? Not a vice but this of baseness was left open to him.
4. By day and night] Malone cites J/am. I, v, 164: *0 day and night, but this is wondrous strange 1' in support of the exclamation-mark introduced by Capell ; but Whalley and Steevens rightly interpret these words in their ordinary sense, signifying always^ rvnj nra^, as appears, says Wright, from 'every hour* which follows.
13. weazy] As You Like It (Cent. Mag, be, p. 402) : It is extremely probabl« that Sh. wrote *nuji7 negligence.'
ACT I. sc iii.] KING LEAR 59
You and your fellows ; I'd have it come to question.
If he distaste it, let him to my sister, 1$
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one»
* Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man,
* That still would manage those authorities
* That he hath given away I Now, by my life,
* Old fools are babes again, and must be used 20
* With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abused.*
14. feUows\ fellow feruants Q,. fel* terUs when they are seen abufd Cap. iatfh/eruants Q,. checks^ by JUUUries when the/ re seen
rd]rdeT^¥^ VdeQ^. IdeQ^ abused ]tn. cheehs^asflatterieSf-'When
to\ in Qq. • they are seen abused MaL Steev. Bos.
15. distaste'] dijlihe Qq, Cap. Steer. Knt, Del. Sing, chtchs; as Jlatteries^ Ec. Var. Glo. Mob. when they are uen^ abused Coll. Wh.
#r^] MtrQq, Glo. +, Mob. chechs as Jlatteries^^^when they are
17-21. Not to be..Mbused.] Verse first [they re Dyce ii, Hads.] seen abused
by Theob. Om. Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. Dyce, Sta. Glo. Huds. checks; asjlat-
20. fiolsl folks Warb. Jen. teries, when they are seen, art abused
21. chechs.,Mbused'\ Qq. checks, like Ktly. checks, when Jlatteries are seen fiattrers pfhen they re seen /* abuse us abused Sch. conj. checks of Jlatterifs Theob. checks, as Jlatteries when they re when they re seen abused 'Bz^Hbasru* uen abu^d Johns. £c. checks, notjlat'
15. let him to] For instances of the omission of the verb of motion see Abbott, $$30, 405, and I, i, 283 ; also Ham, I, i. 26 and III, iii, 4.
17-21. That these lines, which are printed as prose in the Qq, maybe easily arranged metrically is a warrant, says Schmidt, of their correctness.
17. Idle] ScHMoyr {Lex,) : Wanting becoming seriousness and gravity, thought- less, silly, absurd, foolish.
20^ 21. Old . • • nbiwed] Theobald (Nichols's Lit, Hist, ii, 371) suggests abuses, but did not repeat the suggestion in his ed. WarburtoN: Common sense tells us Sh. must have wrote : ' Old Folks are • . • With checks, notjlatfries when . . • abus*d' — u e,^ old folks being grown children again, they should be used as we use children, with 'checks' when we find the little 'flatteries' we employ to quiet them are *abus*d' by Uieir becoming more peevish by indulgence. Johnson: Old men must be treated with checks, when as they are seen to be deceived with flatteries; or, when they are once weak enough to be seen abused by Jlatteries, they are then weak enough to be used with checks. There is a play of the words used and abused. To cibuse is, in our author, very frequently the same as to deceive. This construction is harsh and ungrammattcal; Sh. perhaps thought it vicious, and chose to throw away the lines rather than correct them, nor would now thank the officious* ness of his editors, who restore what they do not understand. Tyrwhitt: Old fools— must be used with checks, at well as flatteries, when they (t. e, flatteries) ar^ seen to be abused. Dyce {Remarks, &c., p. 222) : * As' meaning as weH as. Hal* UWELL : The rest of the.line, after the word * checks,' los.es its reference to the child, and merely alludes to the old man as king used to be flattered, which flatteries, being felt by him. are abused. I have very little doubt, however, but that here there is
60 KING LEAR rACTi.8C.hr.
Remember what I have said Osw. Well, madaln. 23
Gon. And let his knights have colder looks among you ;
What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so.
* I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, 25
* That I may speak.* I'll write straight to my sister.
To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner. \Exiuni.
Scene IV. A hall in the same.
Enter Kent, disgrnsed.
Kent If but as well I other accents borrow. That can ifiy speech defuse, my good intent
22. ^tffvxtfft/|A/r^MiQq,JeiuGlo.+, 27. dinner] dinner now "KAy. Mob. have said to you Y.i\y. [Exeunt.] Exit. Qq.
Well] Ff, Rowe, Pope, Knt, Coll, SdENE iv.] Seen* Quarta. Ff (Scsenm
Del. Sing. Dyce i, Sta. Wh. Ktly, Glo. F,). Om.Qq, Rowe. Scene xn. Pope^
Mob. Sch. Very well Qq et cet. Han. Scene hi. Ec
23, 24. And let„ao,'] As in Cap. A hall in the same.] MaL An Verse first by Han. Prose, QqFf+, outer Hall in the same. Cap. An open Jen. Knt. Place before the Pftlace. Theob.
24. advise] and advise Han., ending Enter Kent, disguised.] Rowe. Enter the line with advise. Kent. QqFf..
25, 26. / would^jpeak.] As in Cap. 1-7. Prose, Qq. Prose, Qq. Om. Ff +, Jen. Knt. I. well] will F,.
26, 27, ril.,.dinner.] As in Han. 2. 7)U/..u^;s/^^] QqFf, Glo. +, Mob. Prose, QqFf. Sch. And».uiisuse Rowe, Pope, Johns.
27. very] Qq. Om.Ff+, Knt, Colli, ^if^...i/|^itf^ Theob. Han. Warb. That Del. Sing. Dyce i, Sta. Wh. Ktly, Sch. ...deface Cap. That...diffuse Jen. et cet.
Prepare] goe prepare Qqt Jen. That..Jisguise Jen. conj. That...de/eai Go and prepare }l9s^. Anon.*
either an omission or a gross corruption. Mobeely : < When they are seen abused ' ■» when they are so plainly misguided. If * checks as flatteries' is the right reading, the meaning must be * checks as well as flatteries.* But may not Sh. have written « with checks 9sJUitiyf^i.e, 'as decidedly as we restrain children.* This would easily corrupt into * flattery.'
23-27. Knight: This speech has been arranged metrically; but so regulated, it reads very harshly.
24. Mobeely : The vixenish tone of Goneril makes the line defy scanning.
25, 26. Schmidt says these lines were struck out in the Ff because they merely repeat the idea contained in line 14; but that they are Shakespeare's is clear from the metre, notwithstanding that the Qq print them as prose.
2. defuse] Theobald was the first to restore < defuse,' but he spelled it diffuse^ and it is not clear from his note that he had a correct notion of its meaning. He
ACT I, sc- iv.] KING LEAR 6x
May carry through itself to that full issue
For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, 5
So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest«
Shall find thee full of labours.
Horns wiihin. Enter Lear» Knights, and Attendants.
LeuK Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. — [Exit an Attendantl\^ How now I what art thou ? Kent. A man, sin 10
4. roMed'jraa^dQ^. raizdQ^. rai^d Horns within.] Om. Qq.
F,F,. rai^d F,F^. Knights, and Attendants.] Rowe.
Ncwl Om. Pope, Han. and Attendants. Ff. Om. Qq. Gentle-
6. So,„eome^ Om. Qq. man. Knights, and Attendants. Cap. €ome,thyi com^ 7I4[y Johns, eome! 9. Exit an Attendant.] Mai. To an
thy Cap. Steev. Ec. Var. Coll. Del. Wh. Attendant, who goes out. Cap. Om.
iCtly, Huds. comethyYixA. QqFf.
7. thetfidl^ the full Qq. [To Kent Theob. Warb. Johns. lab(mrs\ labour Qq.
apparently thinks that Kent will disguise his speech by diffusing— i.e. by spreading it out. Hanmer adopted Theobald's spelling, and gives the true definition: 'to disguise.' This interpretation and spelling make Capell indignant, and he ui^ges his emendation deface, thus : < If I can but deface my speech by a strange accent as effectually as I have defac*dmy person by a strange attire, then my good intent may do so and so : now for this deface and defaced substitute diffuse and diffused, and seo how you like it; and if diffuse would have suited in this respect, it had not been given to Kent, whose language is more natural.' Stzevens : We must suppose that Kent advances looking on his disguise. To diffuse speech signifies to disorder it, and so to disguise it. It may, however, mean to speak broad with a clownish accent. Dyce {Hem. 223) cites *Dyffuse harde to be vnderstande, ^(^mi^.'— P&lsgrave's Lesclar. de la Lang. Fr.^ 1 530. ' But oft by it [logick] a thing playne, bright and pure, Is made diffuse, yMmowen, harde, and obscure.' — Barclay's Ship ofFooles^ ed. 1570. ' Kent does not wish to render his speech difficult to he understood, but merely to disorder it, to disguise it, as he had disguised his person.' Wright cites instances of the use of ' defuse' frottk l^yly^s Euphues (ed. Arber), p. 64; and Armin's Nest of Ninnies, p. 6 (Shaksp. Soc. ed.). For other instances from Sh., see Concordance or Schmidt*8 LiX.
6. 80 • • • come,] To Caveu« this appeared to be a wish and parenthetical.
7. laboon] Capell : His master will find him ready for any hard services, aiid any number of them. Walker (CnV. i, 355} : Perhaps labour of the Qq is right.
7. trear] Coleridge: In Lear old age is itself a character,— its nattural imper- fections being increased by lifelong habits of receiving a prompt obedience. Any addition of individuality would have Been unnecessary and painful; for the relations of others to him, of wondrous fidelity and of frightful ingratitude, alone sufficiently distinguish him. Thus Lear becomes the open and ample play-room of nature's passions. 6
62 KING LEAP [ACT I. sc. iv.
Lear. What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou il with us?
Kent. I do profess to be no less than I seem ; to serve him truly that will put me in trust; to love him that is hon* est; to converse with him that is wise and says little ; to fear 15 judgement; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.
Lear. What art thou ?
Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.
Lear. If thou be*st as poor for a subjeft as he's for a 20 king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou ?
Kent. Service.
Lear. Who wouldst thou serve ?
Kent. You.
Lear. Dost thou know me^ fellow? 25
15. and says] tosayVfub, Han. and 20. i/j] Ff, Rowe, Pope, Knt, Dyce
saySitey.'Ss. i, Sch. ^trQqetcet.
17. art} are F^ 21. thou art] tkarU Q,.
20. b^st'] Ff {beft F,)+, Knt. Dy<^ i, 23. Who] Whom FJ^jF^H-. Cap. Jen.
Sta. Sch. ^ Qq et eet. Ec. Coll. Del. Wh.
II, 13. profess] D£LXUS : Lear uses this in the sense of trade or cailing. Kent replies in the sense of assertion.
15. converse] Johnson: This signifies immediately and properly to kap eom^ pany^ not to discourse or talk.
16. Judgement] Cafell thinks this refers simply to coming before a judge; EccLES and Moberly that it refers to the last Judgement.
16. eat no fish.] Warburton: In Queen Elizabeth's time the Papists were esteemed, and with good reason, enemies to the government Hence the proverbial phrase of, ' He's an honest man, and eats no fish,' to signify he's a friend to the government and a Protestant The eating fish, on a religious account, being then esteemed such a badge of popery, that when it was enjoined for a season by act of parliament, for the encouragement of the fish-towns, it was thought necessary to declare the reason ; hence it was called < Cecil's fast' To this disgraceful badge of popery Fletcher alludes in his Woman- Hater [IV, ii], who makes the courtezan say, when Lazarillo, in search of the umbrana's head, was seized at her house by the intelligencers for a traitor: 'Gentlemen, I am glad you have discovered him; he should not have eaten under my roof for twenty pounds ; and surely I did not like him when he called for fish.' And Marston's Dutch Courtetan [I, ii] : 'I trust I am none of the wicked that eate fish a Fridaies.' [Dyce, in his ed. of the Woman^ Hater ^ cites this note by Warburton, and adds : * Perhaps Warburton is right'] Capell thinks that this means simply that Kent was a jolly fellow, and no lover of such meagre diet as fish.
23. Who] For other instances of * who ' for whom^ see Abbott, % 274*
ACT I, SC. iv.]
KING LEAR
63
Kent. No, sir ; but you have that m your countenance 26 which I would fain call master.
Lear. What's that?
Kent Authority.
Lear. What services canst thou do ? 30
Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curi- ous tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly ; that which ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best of me is diligence.
Lear. How old art thou ? 35
Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to dote on her for any thing; I have years on my back forty-eight
Lear. Follow me ; thou shalt serve me ; if I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet — Dinner, 40 ho, dinner I Where's my knave ? my Fool ? — ^Go you, and call my Fool hither. — \Exit an Attendant.
Enter Oswald^
You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? Osw. So please you. —
\ExU.
30. th^l Om. Q,.
31. couHiel\ cottnfatU QqF,. toun* faiiis F,. caun/els FjE^^- .
34. u diligence] is^^-^iligence Sta. 36. Hr\ Om. Qq.
^S^*^8\ nghing Anon.* 39. ihou\ that F^
39, 40. tiie; if,., dinner t JT] me, if,., dinner^ I C^l. me,if„Mnner. /Jen. Ec SUu me, if., dinner; Sing.
40, 61. from,„dinner f\ from thee. Vet no dinner hot dinner-^'Rwu.
42. hither'l hether Qq. [To an Attendant. Cap. [Exit...] Dyce.
Enter Oswald] As in Cap. En« ter Steward (after daughter t) QqFf+, Enter Steward (after Foolt) Johns. Jen.
43. Kw, yoUf'l You you F,F,. you Qq.
44. Osw.] Coll. Steward. Qq. Ste. or Stew. Ff.
your^-lyou-^QJ^i. you,Q^, [Exit.] Om. Qq.
31. curious] Schmidt; Elegant, nice. Wught: Elaborate.
34. diligence] Particularly, says Schmidt, applied to menial services. Compar« Tam.ofSh.9 Ind. i, 70. Frospero calls Arid <my diligence' because he has so jealously carried .out his commands,
36. so ... to] See 11, iv, zi, 12; Ifam. V^ ii, 16; Mud. II, iii, 47; III, i, 87; and Abbott, $281.
42. Davus {Dram. Misc. ii, 176} gives wtmt was the stage business in his timet ' He [Oswald] generally enters the stage in a careless, disengaged manner, hum* ming a tune^ as if on purpose to give umbrage to the king by his neglect of him.*
64 KING LEAR [ACTl.saiv.
Lear. What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoU 45 back.— [£ri:r aKnight:\ Where's my Fool, ho? I think the world's asleep. — XJRe-enter Knight^ How now I where's that mongrel ?
Knight. He says, my lord, your dajighter is not welL
Lear. Why came not the slave back to me when I called 50 him?
Knight Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not
Lear. He would not I
KnigJa. My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, 55 to my judgement, your highness is not entertained with that ceremonious affeftion as you were wont; there's a great abatement of kindness appears as well in the general de- pendants as in the duke himself also and your daughter.
Lear. Ha ! sayest thou so ? 60
Knight. I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken ; for my duty cannot be silent when I think your highness wronged
Lear. Thou but rememberest me of mine own concep- tion. I have perceived a most faint negle£t of late ; which 65
45. f/?//o//] Steev. aotpoUYi-k-^Cx^. 49. daught€r\ Daughten F,F,. Jen. Mai. £c. clat-poU Qq. tlodpoU 52, 55, 61. Knight.] Seraant. Qq. Johns. Dyce. 52. fne\ Om. F^F^ Rowe, Pope, Han*
46. [Exit a Knight.] Dyce. Om.QqFf. 54. He\ A Q,.
Fool^ ho f\foole^ ho Q,. foole f ho^ 58. of kindness] Om. Qq.
Q^ Fooief ffo, Ff, Cap. foolt Ho! dependants] dependence Walker
Rowe, Jen. foolf Hot Pope, Han. (Crit iii, 277).
47. [Re-enter Knight] Dyce. Om. 63. wronged] is wrong'd Q,^Fj+, QqFf. Cap. Jen. Stecv. Ec. Var. Sing. idly.
49. Knight] Knigh. F,F,F,. Kent 64. mim] my FJF^+, Jen.
Qq.
56. that • • • as] See 1, 1, 95, and Abbott, S 280.
58. appears] For the omission of the relative, see Abbott, $ 244.
64. conception] Always nsed by Sh., says ScHMnyr, in a bad sense, espedalljf of suspicious or jealous thoughts.
65. faint] Schmidt says this does not mean 'slight/ as Wright interprets it, but * dull,' « languid,' < cold,' < without zeal,' and refers to Afid, N. D.: 'A barren sister, chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon;' and to 'faint deeds' in Timom, which means indifferent, mechanical actions, devoid of thought [Despite the an- fhority, almost without a rival, which Schmidt wields in a question concerning Shakespeare's use of words, I cannot but think that he is in error here, and makes
ACT X. sa iv.]
KING LEAR
65
I have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as 66 a very pretence and purpose of unkindness. I will look further into't But where's my Fool? I have not seen him this two days.
Knight. Since my young lady's going into France, sir, 70 the Fool hath much pined away.
Lear. No more of that; I have noted it well. — Go you, and tell my daughter I would speak with her. — Go you, call hither my Fool. — [Re-enter Oswald.] O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir ? 75
Osw. My lady's father.
Lear. * My lady's father?' my lord's knave. You whore- son dog! you slave 1 you curl
66. mine cwn] my own F,+, Jen.
67. purpoi€\ purport Qq.
68. int<ft'\ into it Qg. intot^t F,. my] this Qq.
69. tkis\ these Pope+, Jen. Ec. 7a Knight.] Servant. Qq.
73. welf] Om. Qq, Cap.
[To one Attendant. Cap. Ec.
73. [Exit an Attendant. Dyce«
74. [to Another. Cap. [Exit an attendant Dyce.
74. Re-enter Oswald.] As in Johns, (sabs.) Re-enter Steward, brought back by an Attendant, [after O, line 74] O^p. Enter Steward, [after sirf line 75] Ff, Rowe, Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. Om, Qq.
74f 7S« y^t eome^air"] you Jir^ comt you hither Qq, Cap. Jen. Steev. Ec Var. Coll. Dd. Sing. Wh. Ktly. eomi ...sir F^F^+^
Lear say the very opposite to what Sh. intended. At this stage of the play Lear is not the man to stand < most cold neglect/ as we see by his instantaneous wrath at Oswald a few lines further on. — Ed.]
66. jealous curiosity] Steevens: A punctilious jealousy, resulting from a scru« pulous watchfulness of his own dignity.
67. pretence] Steevens : Design, See 1, ii, 84. Hudson : The passage is rather curious, as discovering a sort jof double consciousness in the old king.
69. this two days] Wright; In such cases Sh. uses indifferently 'this' and •these.' See fVint. Tate, V, ii, 147, Per. y, i, 24.
70. into] Schmidt: Very commonly used by Sh. before the names of countries : 'to go into England,' 'into Flanders,' 'into Mauritania.'
71. Hudson: This aptly touches the key-note of the Fool's character. CoLB- EIDGB: The Fool is no comic buffoon to make the groundlings laugh, — no forced, condescension of Shakespeare's genius to the taste of his audience. Accordingly^ (he poet prqmres for his introduction, which he never does with any of his common clowns and fools, by bringing him Into living connection with the pathos of the play. He is as wonderful a creation as Caliban ;-«his wild babblings and inspired idiocy articulate tod gauge the horrors of the scene.
73. Go you, call] Schmidt follows the QqFf in omitting the comma here, be* cause the infinitive very commonly omits to in construction with^. 6* £
66 KING LEAR [ACTX,sc.iv
Osw. I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon. 8o
Lear, Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal ?
Osw. ril not be strucken, my lord
KenU Nor tripped neither, you base foot-ball player I
Lear. I thank thee, fellow ; thou servest me, and I'll love thee. 85
Kent Come, sir, arise, away ! I'll teach you differences : away, away I If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry; but away I go to; have you wisdom? so.
Lear. Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There's earnest of thy service. 90
EnUr Fool.
Fool. Let me hire him too. — Here's my coxcomb.
79,80. /aM.../an/«M.] Two lines, FT. 88. tarry\ tarry agQim TheoK ii,
79. these\ this Qq, Cap. MaL Steev. Waib. Johns.
Bctt. Sing. Ktly. go to\ Om Qq.
79, 80. yoHrpardon\ you pardon me have you wisdom f so.^ Theobu
Qq> Cap. Steev. Ec. Var. Sing. Aauo you vjifedome^fo. Ff, Rowe, Pope^
81. [Striking him. Rowe. Sch. you haue wi/edome. Qq.
83. struekenl ¥f, Rowe, Knt, Wh. [Pushes the Steward out TheoK Sch. ftrueke Q,. Jtruek Q. et cet 89. iwy] Om. Qq.
[in Posture of defending himself. therds"] their' t Q,.
Dip. 90. [Giving money. Johns.
.83. player f\ player t Han. 91. SCENK xill. Pope, Han. Warbb
[Tripping up his heels. Rowe. Johns. Jen.
84, 85. L„ihee,1 Two lines, Ff, Rowe. [Giving his cap. Rowe. 86. arise^ away] Om. Qq.
81. bandy] Steevens: A metaphor from tennis. [Cotgrave: louir d Lauder ^ d racier 'centre. To bandy against, at Tennis ; and (^ metaphor) to pursue witb all insolencie, rigour, extremitie.]
88. have you wisdom ?] Schiodt plausibly urges that this is not a question, but an imperative. The superfluous you or thou after an imperative is almost too common in Sh. to be noted. Schmidt refers to lines 138 (which is scarcely par- allel) and 331 of this scene, and also to I, v, i ; II, iv, 154; III, iii, 7, 13; III. vii, 6; IV, vi, 137 of this play.
9a earnest] Schmidt cites Tkvo Gent, II, i, 163, and Com, of Err. II, ii, 24, as instances of quibbles, where this word is used in both of its meanings : handsel and serious,
91. Enter Fool.] C A. Brown {Shahespeards Autobiographical Poems, p. 292, 1838) : * Now, our joy, though last, not least,' my dearest of all Fools, Lear's Fool I Ah, what a noble heart, a gentle and a loving one, lies beneath that parti-coloured jerkin ! Tliou hast been cruelly treated. Hegan and Goneril could but hang thee, while the unfeeling players did worse; for they tainted thy character, and at last
ACT I. SC hrj KING LEAR 67
[91. Enter Fool.] thrust thee from the stoge» as one unfit to appear in their worshipful company. Re* gardless of that warning voice forbidding them to ' speak more than is set down for them/ they have put into thy mouth words so foreign to thy nature, that they might* with as much propriety, be given to Cardinal Wolsey. But let me take thee, with* out addition or diminution, from the hands of Sh., and then art thou one of his perfect creations. Look at him I It may be your eyes see him not as mine do, but he appears to me Of a light delicate frame, every feature expressive of sensibility even to pain, with eyes lustrously intelligent, a mouth blandly beautiful, and withal a hectic flush upon his cheek. Oh that I were a painter 1 Oh that I could describe him IS I knew him in my boyhood, when the Fool made me shed tears, while Lear did but terrify me I • • • When the Fool enters,- throwing his coxcomb at Kent, and mstantly follows it np with allusions to the miserable rashness of Lear, we ought to understand him from that moment to the last. Throughout this scene his wit, however varied, still aims at the same point, and in spite of threats, and regardless how his words may be construed by Gonerirs creatures, with the eagerness of a filial love he prompts the old king to * resume the shape which he had cast off.' 'This IS not altogether fool, ray lord.' But, alas I it is too late; and when driven from the scene by Goneril, he turns upon her with an indignation that knows no fear of the ' halter' for himself: * A fox when one has caught her. And such a daughter. Should sure to the slaughter. If my cap would buy a halter.' That such a character should be distorted by players, printers, and commentators I Observe every word he speaks; his meaning, one would imagine, could not be misinterpreted; and when at length, finding his covert reproaches can avail nothing, he changes his discourse to simple mirth, in order to distract the sorrows of his master. When Lear is in the storm, who is with him ? None— not even Kent—* None but the Fool ; who labours to outjest His heart*struck injuries.' The tremendous agony of Lear's mind would be too painful, and even deficient in pathos, without this poor faithful servant at his. side. It is he that touches our hearts with pity, while Lear fills the imagination to aching. • . . But it is acted otherwise,»no, it is Tate that is acted* Let them, if they choose, bring this tragedy on the stage; but, by all means, let us not be without the Fool. I can imagine an actor in this part, with despair in his face, and a tongue for ever struggling with a jest, who should thrill every bosom« What I banish him from the tragedy, when Lear says, < I have one part in my heart that's sorry yet for thee ;' and when he so feelingly addresses him with, * Come on, my boy ; how dost, my boy ? Art cold ? I am cold myself.' At that pitch ot* rage, ' Off! ofi", you lendings 1 Come, unbutton here 1' could we but see the Fool throw himself into his master's arms, to stay their fury, looking up in his countenance with eyes that would fain appear as if they wept not, and hear his pathetic entreaty, < E^ythee, nunde, be contented ;' — pshaw I these players know nothing of their trade.
In Macready*S Diary is the following: 4th [January, 1838].— Went to the the» atre, where I went on a first rehearsal of King Lear, My opinion of the introduc- tion of the Fool is that, like many such terrible contrasts in poetry and painting, in acting-representation it will fail of effect ; it will either weary and annoy or db* tract the spectator. I have no hope of it, and think that at the last we shall be obliged to dispense with it. 5th. — Speaking to Willmott and Bartley about the part of the Fool in Lear^ and mentioning my apprehensions that, with Meadows, wa should be obliged to omit the part, I described the sort of fragile, hectic, beautiful-
68 KING LEAR [act I, SC. iv.
[91. Enter Fool.] ftced boy that he should be, and stated my belief that it never could be acted. Bart- ley observed that a woman should play it. I caught at the idea, and instantly ex* daimed, 'Miss P. Horton is the very peirson.* I was delighted at the thought
C. CowDEN Clarke [Gent, Mag, No. LVIII, p. 397) : Lear's Fool is a youth, not a grown man; a petted lad, to whom his royal master looks for quaint say- ings and whimsical sentences when vexed and irritable; a favoured fellow, whose wayward speeches are tolerated, and even liked, when graver cares press hard on the old monarch, and to whose playful sallies he .turns when desiring to fill a vacant half hour or beguile a leisure interval. • • • The personal and affectionate interest taken by Lear in the lad is denoted at the very outset. He not only asks eagerly and repeatedly for him, but when told that since Cordelia's going into France < the Fool hath much {uned away,' Lear answers hurriedly: <No more of that; / havt noted it weU/ and when the Fool himself appears on the scene, his old master accosts him with : ' How now, my pretty knave, Aow dost thou f* The very expres- sion, * My pretty knave,' serves to paint the Fool's boyish years, and to depict the fondling regard of Lear for him. . • . This kind of gentle feeling is shown by others as well as the king towards the stripling fool-jester; for Kent— who, disguised as Caius, affects much bluntness of speech— on more than one occasion speaks favour- ingly of and to the lad. When the Fool is sportively and keenljr rebuking Lear for having so unwisely cast all power into his unworthy daughter's hands, Kent observes : * This is not altogether fool, my lord.' Afterwards, also, in the storm, when the boy, scared at finding the Bedlam beggar in the hovel, runs out again, exclaiming: 'Come not in here, nuncle ; here's a spirit Help me, help me P Kent encouragingly says : *Give me thy hand. Who's there?' And still further on, at the close of that wild night-scene, when the poor old king, worn out, has fallen into weary slumber, Kent, preparing to bear him away to safer quarters, says to the faithful Fool : * Come, help to bear thy master ; thou must not stay behind.' This tenderness with which the boy is treated partly arises from his delicacy of frame, which is indicated by some slight but significant side-touches in the course of the play. First, there is his ' pining away' on his young mistress's departure from England, above alluded to. Then, there is his sensitiveness to churlish weather and diarp night air, betokened by his words during the storm: 'O nuncle, court holy water,' &c. Again: 'This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.' Lastly, there is his withdrawal from the play. It is silently effected,, the dramatist giving no express mention of the Fool after his assisting to bear his old master away to the litter prepared for conveying the king to Dover; but, to my mind, Sh. evidently meant to iiUer that the fragile lad- weakly in frame, susceptible in temperament, and rendered doubly so by the delicacy of his nurture in the court household as the petted boy-jester of his royal employer^ never recovered from the rigours and terrors of that tempestuous night; that he sick- ened and died soon after, fulfilling actually, as well as poetically, his own last uttered words : ' And I'll go to bed at noon.' In this noontide of his youth and fidelity, L<ar'$ Fool goes to his deathbed, when his old master no longer needs him by his side;
W. W. Lloyd : It is indicated that the Fool is a boy, a pretty knave, young that is, and of pleasant aspect, and the boundaries of his intelligence lie somewhere between iimocence and acuteness, but whereabouts is undefihable; it is only when the king is consdous of the full extent of his injustice and his misery, that the Fool desists from probing the wounds, and torturing by truth told jestingly, — and now
ACT I. SC. iv.] KING LEAR 69
Lear. How now, my pretty knave I how dost thou ? 92
Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. Kent. Why, Fool?
Fool. Why? for taking one's part that's out of fiivour. 95 Nay, and thou canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch
94. Kent Why\ Qq. Lear. Why Dyce et cet
F,F^ Knt. ColL i, Del. i, Sch. 95. <mes\ onU Q,.
Fool\ my Boy Ff+, Knt, ColL thaf9\ that it F^+9 Steev. Ec.
Del. Sch. Var.
95. Wly//w]Ff+,Cap.Jen.Stecv. 96. «k/] QqF,F,F^, Rowe, Sch. 6* Ec Var. Knt, CoU. Del. Sing. Wh. F,. as Warb. an Pope et cet
KUy, Sch. H^y for Qq. Why, for thot^if] thouU Qq.
'labours to outjest his heait-strack injuries.' [After these long and good notes \tj ray betters, I wish merely to record humbly but firmly my conviction that the Fool, one of Shakespeare's most wonderful characters, is not a boy, but a man^one of the shrewdest, tenderest of men, whom long life had made shrewd, and whom afflictions had made tender; his wisdom is too deep for any boy, and could be found only in a man, removed by not more than a score of yeais from the king's own age ; he had been Lear's companion from the days of Lear's early manhood. See also White's note on line 123.— Ed.]
93. yon were best] Abbott, % 130: The old • {to") me {U) were better,' being misunderstood, was sometimes replaced by ' I were better.' When the old idiom is retained, it is generally in instances like the present, where * you ' may represent either nominative or dative, but was almost certainly used by Sh. as a nominative. See III, iv, 99.
93. coxcomb] MxNSRKU (s. v. coches-combe, ed. 1617) : Englishmen use to caU vaine and proud braggers, and men of meane discretion and judgement Coxcombis. Because naturall Idiots and Fooles haue, and still doe accustome themselues to weare in their Cappes, cock's featheis, or a hat with a necke and head of a cocke on the top and a bell thereon, &c., and thinke themselues finely fitted and proudly attired therewith, so we compare a presumptuous bragging fellow, and wanting all true ludgement and discretion, to such an Idiote foole, and call him also Coxecombe. [Cited in part by Steevens.]
94. Why, Fool] Knight: The text of the Folio [see Textual Notes] clearly shows that the speech was intended for Lear, and that, however it might have been written originally, Sh. in bis amended copy would not permit Kent, in his character of serving-man, so soon to begin bandying questions with Lear's favorite. White : The Folio b clearly wrong, as the Fool's reply shows. Lear had taken ' no one's part that's out of favour,' but Kent had. The mistake seems to be due to the fact that both Lear and Kent reply interrogatively to the Fool's remark about his coxcomb. Dyce: The eye of the transcriber or compositor most probably caught the next speech but one. It is plain that the Fool addresses the king for the first time when he says : ' How now, nuncle,' &c. Schmidt silently follows F,F,, which are to me unquestionably wrong.
95. one's] Abbott, $ 81 : We never use the possessive inflection of the unem- phatic one as an antecedent.
96. and] Abbott, S lois Equivalent to if. This paitide has been derived
70 KING LEAR [Acxi.sciv.
cold shortly. There, take my coxcomb; why, this fellow 97 has banished two on's daughters, and did the third a bless- ing against his will ; if thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb. — How now, nuncle? Would I had two 100 coxcombs and two daughters !
Lear. Why, my boy?
FooL If I gave them all my living, I 'Id keep my cox* combs myself There's mine ; beg another of thy daughters.
Lear. Take heed, sirrah ; the whip. los
gS. kas\ hoik Qq, Cam. ka^s F,. 103. gav€\ gim r,F^+.
m'j] of his Q,» Pope+, Steev. alimy\any(i({.
Mai. £c. Knt, Sing. Ktly. rid^ PU Rowe+.
did\ domi Qq> Cam. caxcambi\ Q,. Caxcamba F^
loi. and two] an? two {ut. if two) €ox£ombe QJ?^ Cox€om^ F^F,, Rowe,
Faxmer. ' P^>pe» Theob. Han. Waibu
from AH, the imperative of umnan^ to grant This plausible bnt false deiiTatioa was originated by Home Tooke, and has been adopted by the edd. of the Cam. Sh. But the word is often written <and' in Early English ^Stratmann), as well as in EUsabethan authors. So almost always in the Folio.
96. catch cold] Farmer : That b, be turned out of doors and exposed to the inclemency of the weather.
98. banithed] Cafell: This means that he had lost them as danghten, lost their love and obedience, and by an act of his own. EocLis thinks that these words are spoken in the wanton levity of the character, as being the oontnuy of those favours Lear had conferred upon them. Mobbrlt: Lear has, by blessing them, made Goneril and Regan no longer his daughters, and also made Cordelia queen of France by cursing her.
98. 011*8] Abbott, $ 182: 'On' was frequently used for the possesdve of^ par* ticularly, in rapid speech, before a contracted pronoun. The explanation of this change of ^ to ' on ' appears to be as follows : Of when rapidly pronounced before a consonant became d ; but when d came before a vowel it was forced to assume a euphonic n. See I, v, 19.
98. did] For instances of the transitive use of this word, see Abbott, S 303.
100. nuncle] Narss : A familiar contraction of mini uneU. It seems to have been the customaiy appellation of the licensed fool to his superiors. In the same style the fools called each other cousin. In Beaumont and Fletcher's Pi^irim^ when Alinda assumes the character of a fool, she uses the same language. She meets Alphonso, and calls him nsmcU ; to which he replies by calling her nasmt. Wrigbt ; So in Whetstone's. /VtfjvMf and Cassandra, iv, 7, we find ' my nown good harte roote.' In Littr«*s Diet,, under the word 'Tante/ it is stated that * nante' is a form of the word in Picardy, and in justification of the derivation of tanu from ta ante^ refer* ence is made to the Wallon dialect, in which mononk, matanU, and similar fonns are used, the possessive pronoun having no force whatever. If the origin of ' nuncle * is not analogous, it must be referred to the principle by which Noll, Ned,. Nan. Nell, Numps are fonned from Oliver, Edward, Anne. Ellen and Humphrey.
ACTX.s&iv.] KING LEAR 71
Fool Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whip- io6 ped out, when Lady, the brach, may stand by th' fire and stink. Lear. A pestilent gall to me !
Fooi. Sirrahf I'll teach thee a speech. IfO
Lear. Do. Fool. Mark it, nuncle :
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest.
Lend less than thou owest, 11$
Ride more than thou goest.
Learn more than thou trowest,
Set less than thou throwest;
to6. Thak'sa] ThakisaQ^. Thtih 107. ib^M'/r/JPF <f,JeiLWh.Sch.
must to] thai mujl io Qo, Jen. 109. gaW^ guU Qf],
Sceev. Bfal. Ec Bos. Sing. KUy. lia [To Kent Rowe+, Jen. Ee.
107. Lady^ UU braeh^ Steev. MaL Sirrah'\ Sirka F,F,.
GI0.+, Mob. LadU oth*t brack Qq. III. Lear.] Ken. Cap.
(ZiM^Q..) ihi Lady Brach Ff+, Cap. iia. mmcU\ vncU Q,. VncUi ^
Jen. Ec Knt, CoU. Del. Dyce. Sta. Wh. VuekU, Q,.
Hndi. Sch. 113-122. Havi^juan^ Pirose, Qq.
107. tnmch] Stbxvucs: A bitch of the bunting kind. Dr LetherUmd, on the margin of Warborton's ed., proposed ' lad/s brach,' t. e, favoured animal. * Lady ' b still a common name for a hound. So Hotspur, in i Hm. IV: III, i, 24a ToL-c xxr [Note in III, ▼{, 67] : The females of all dogs were once called braehes, Uli« tins opon Gratius observes: ' Racka Saxonibus canem significabat unde Scoti hodie Rache pro cane fcemina habent, quod Anglis est Bracked A[rchibald] S[mith] (A^. end Qm. 2 Ser., voL ▼, p. 202, 1858) : Here is a curious opposition between 'truth' and 'lady,' where one would have expected the opposition to be between * truth ' and He. May it not be that Sh. wrote < lye the brach,' and that the printers thought ' lye ' a contraction for ' lady,' instead of the whole of the opposite of imiA / Wright : Florio has, < Bracca, a brache, or a bitch, a beagle ;' Cotgrave : * Braque : m. A kind of short-tayled setting dog; ordinarily spotted, or paitie-coloured.' Baret gives ' a Brache or biche. Canicnla.' The word is found in German Brache^ and in Dutch Brak.
109. pestilent gall] Mobkrly: A passionate remembrance of Oswald's inso- lence. [This does not satisfy me, but I can offer nothing better. — Ed.]
115. owest] For «owe,' meaning to possess, see Sh. passim.
117. trowest] Warburton gives to this the meaning of to Micvcp to Mmi, to coHceivf, and he has been followed by all other editors since his time except Capell, who says it means to Jknmif, and cites in confirmation, I, iv, 207, where the Qq have «rv» instead of 'know' of the Ff. Capell's interpretation seems the better of the
72 KING LEAR [act.z, sc. iv.
Leave thy drink and thy whore, And keep in-a-door, X20
And thott shalt have more Than two tens to a score. Rent This is nothing, FooL
FooL Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer, you gave me nothing for't — Can you make no use of nothing, 125 nunde ?
120. in-a^oorl Cap. in a doort Qq. 124. *iu\ Om. Qq. iiisT^ Rowe+,
M a dort F,F,. in dore F,. in Door Ec.
F^, Rowe. wUhin door Pope+ . 125. gav€\ give FjF^, Rowe, Pope,
123. Kent] Lear. Qq, Mai. Steev. /or'f\foritCi^
Bos. Coll. Sta. 126. nuncU] Vncie Qq.
two in this passage, despite the faa that Warburton pronounces the line, as he inter- prets it, 'an admirable precept.'
118. Set] Mks Griffiths: That is, never set eqnal to the stake yon throw for. Schmidt: The sense varies according to the way in which we understand ' less,' whether as an adjective or as an adverb. If it is an adjective, then the meaning is : 'Set a less sum than thou hast won by thy last throw;' if an adverb: 'Keep on throwing, but set nothing.'
123. Kent] Knight: The Ff properly gives this speech to Kent, in reply to the Fool's address to him, ' Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech.' Whits also upholds the Ff, because ? ' it should be observed, that in addressing this poor, faithful follower, the long never calls him Fool. In speaking of him, he gives him his official title ; but in speaking to him, he always uses some term of familiar and pitiful endear- ment,— ^generally, " my boy," — although the poor fellow had plainly had many years' sad experience of the world. It seems a deteriorating misapprehension of this phrase that has led an eminent actor [Macready] to represent the Fool as a boy in years I I cannot believe that on this solitary occasion Sh. was indifferent to the touching nature of the relations which he had established between Lear and his humble coun« sellor ; and I accept the evidence of the Folio that this speech is one of Kent's many characteristic interruptions '
124. unfee'd lawyer] Lord Campbell (Skakespear^s Legal Acquiremmts^ p. 97, Am. ed.) : This seems to show that Sh. had frequently been present at trials in courts of justice, and now speaks from his own recollection. There is no trace of such a proverbial saying as ' like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer,' while all the world knows the proverb : ■ Whosoever is his own counsel has a fool for his client/ How unfee'd lawyers may have comported themselves in Shakespeare's time I know not ; but I am bound to say, in vindication of ' my order,' that in my time there has been no ground for the Fool's sarcasm upon the bar. The two occasions when ' the breath of an unfee'd lawyer' attracts notice in this generation, are when he pleads for a party suing in formH pauperis^ or when he defends a person prosecuted by the Crown for high treason. It is contrary to etiquette to take a fee in the one case as in the other; and on all such occasions counsel, from a regard to their own credit, as well as from conscientious motives, uniformly exert themselves with extraordinary zeal* and put forth all their learning and eloquence.
ACT I. sa iv.] KING LEAR 73
Lear. Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of 127 nothing.
Fool. \To Kenf\ Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of his land comes to ; he will not believe a Fool. 130
Lear. A bitter Fool I
Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet one ? Lear. No, lad ; teach me.
Fool. * That lord that counselled thee 135
To give away thy land. Come place him here by me;
Do thou for him stand : The sweet and bitter fool
Will presently appear ; 140
The one in motley here, The other found out there. Lear. Dost thou call me fool, boy? Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast bom with. 145
127,128. notki$ig,..Hotking] Separate 135-150. Tkaiiord„.SHaiching,'\ Om.
line, Ff, Rowe. Ff, Rowe.
129. [To Kent] Rowe. Om. QqFf. 135-142. Om. Pope. In the margin,
131-134. In the margin. Pope. Han.
131-142. In the margin, Han. That lord.,jAere.'\ As in pap.
132. Dost thou] DoQ^Ji Q^. Four lines, Qq, Theob.-f, Jen. Knt, my boy\ nuncU Cap. Sch.
133. tufeet one] Ff -I- , Knt, Coll. Del. 138. Do] Or do Han. Cap. Jen. Stecv. Dyce i, Sta. Wh. Huds. Sch. fweetefooi Mai. Ec. Bos. Sta. Huds. Sch.
Qq et cet. 142. [Pointing to Lear. Coll. iii.
135. [Sings. Anon.* 143. boy] Om. Pope, Han.
135-150. Johnson: These lines were omitted in the Ff, perhaps for political reasons, as they seemed to censure the monopolies.
138. Do] Jennens adopts Hanmer's change <Ordo,' and asserts that the measure points out that a word is lost here [which is tnie]» and that the sense shows it to be Or [which is doubtful]. White is equally sure that the missing word is And; his text reads < And do thou, and in his note he says that this And the rhythm so imper* atively demands that ' it could not possibly have been omitted in a rhyme like this, even if it were as superfluous as it is appropriate to the sense. It was doubtless omitted by accident.' The Cambridge Editors suggest an emendation which is, perhaps, the happiest of any yet offered : < Do thou there for him stand.' The an« tithesis with the preceding line is emphasized, and the similarity of the 'thou' and the there in MS might well have been the cause, through oversight, of the omission of the latter word by the compositor.
142. there] Deuvs : Pointing to the king. 7
74 KING LEAR [act i, sclv.
* Kent. This is not altogether fool, my lord 146
* FooL No, faith, lords and great men will not let me ; *if I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't; and
* ladies too, they will not let me have all the fool to myself;
i * they'll be snatching.* Nuncle, give me an egg, and Til 150
' give thee two crowns.
Lear. What two crowns shall they be ? FooL Why, after I have cut the egg i' th' middle and eat up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i' th' middle and gavest away both parts, ISS thou borest thine ass on thy back o'er the dirt; thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in this, let him be whipped that first finds it so.
148. otU\ mU Pope-f. NkncU Qq et oet.
148. 149. otCt; andUidiis too^ anUt 153. f ' M'] ith* F^ intke Qq, Cam. oiui Ladiis too^ Q,, Jen. miV, and lodes 155. crottfk] eraumes F,.
ioo, Q.. on't; nay ike iadia too. Pope f ' M'] Uh* F^ ith Q,. in tki
+ . Mf V/ atui tki ladies too, Steev. '73. Q.» Cap.
M*/, and loads too: C6U. i, it, DeL t, 156. ^oresfl boai^ft F,F^,. bof^Jt F^.
D]rce i, Wh. Ktly. thine on] th- affe Qq> GIo. Wr.
149. they will] theyu Pope +, Cap. Mob.
aU the fool] Q,, Jen. Cam. Wr. on thy] afh Q,,
Sch. allfoole Q. et cet. e^er] over Cap. Steev. Ec. Vtr.
to myself] myself P6pe, Han. 1 58. one] crown Johns.
150. Nmncle, give me an egg] Ff, 159. so] sooth Warb. Rowe, Knt, I^ce i, Sch. Cive,.xgg^
146. altogether fool] The concrete for the abstract For other instances, see Schmidt, Lex., p. 1423, $ 12; see also II, !▼, 145, where we have the abstract for the concrete.
148. out] jENifENS : That is, a patent ont of court for being sole fool. War* BURTON : A satire on the gross abuses of monopolies at that time, and the corrup- tion and avarice of the courtiers, who commonly went shares with the patentee. Steevens ! Monopolies in Shakespeare's time were common objects of satire.
149. ladies] CoLUBR, in his ed. i and ii, justifies his adoption of lodes of the Qq, saying that all the fool means is that, if he had a monopoly of folly, great men would have part of it, and a large part, too. Dycb, in his ed. ii, after quoting Collier's note, adds: 'But mark the ridiculous inconsistency of expression in the passage, if the Fool be speaking of lords only, — " they would have/ar/ on't" — ^" and loads too "— *< thejT*!! be snatching^ * Dyce gives no intimation that in his ed. i, he adopted CoI« tier's reading with silent approval. In his ed. iii, Collier reads as in the text.
158, 159. If . • . so] EccLEs: Possibly he means to say that he will deserve to be whipped who does not, or cannot, discover that in this instance, at least, he speaks good sense. Perhaps, better thus : The Fool was accustomed to speak bitter and
ACTi. sciv.J KING LEAR 75
Fools had ne'er less grace in a year; l6o
For wise men are grown foppish^ And know not Iww their wits to wear.
Tlteir manners are so apish,
Lear. When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah?
Fool. I have used it, nuncle, e*er since thou madest thy 165 daughters thy mothers ; for when thou gavest them the rod and puttedst down thine own breeches.
Then they for sudden joy did weep^
And I for sorrow sung^ That such a king should play bo-peep^ 170
And go the fools among.
Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy Fool to lie. I would fain learn to lie.
160 and 168. Singing Rowe. Bos. Sing, Ktly, Cam. Wr.
160. had ne'er] nierhad Pope-*-, Ec. 167. pMitedsi\ Dyce ii, Coll. iii,/i<^
grace] wii Qq, Glo. + , Mob. or ^ift or puttest QqFf et ceL
163. And] They Qq, Glo. Wr. Mob. ihine] thy Theob. ii, Warb. know not Aow} weU may fear Johns. Jen.
Coll. (MS). 168. Then they] As part of the song.
Xo^doe^. ^oQ^ Theob. Prose, Ff.
164. When] Since when Hzxi, 168-171. for.....anu>ng] Verse, Ff.
165. ^er] Rowe +, Jen. Knt, Dyce, Prose, Qq.
Sch. ere F,F,. ^re FJF^. ener Qq 171. fools] Foole F,F,, Cap. Knt.
ct cet. 172. Prithee] prethe Q,. prethee Q^
166. mothers] iiM/il/rQq,Mal. Steev. Fry thy F,. Prethy F,. Prythee FJF^.
unpalatable truths, and had sometimes been chastised for so doing. ' If then,' he says, ' I speak on this occasion like myselp — 1. e, like a fool, foolishly — * let not iw be whipped, but him who 6rst finds it to be as I have said'^". e. the king himself, who was likely to be soonest sensible of the truth and justness of the sarcasm, and who, he insinuates, deserved whipping for the silly part he had acted.
160. Fools . • • year;] Johnson : There never was a time when fools were lest in favour; and the reason is, that they were never so little wanted, for wise men now supply their place. Capell discovered that this line, somewhat changed, is to be found in Lyly's Mother Bombie^ 1594: 'I thinke Gentlemen had never lesse wit in a yeere.' See Capell's School of Sh., p. 24.
161, 163. foppish . • . apish] See, for the rhyme, II, iii, 2a
168, 169. Then . • . sung] Steevens : Cbmpare Heywood's Pape of Lucrea^ 1608 : ' When Tarquin first in court began. And was approved king. Some men for sudden joy gan weep. But I for sorrow sing.*
171. among] For other instances of the transposition of prepositions, see Abbott« 5203.
76 KING LEAR [act x, sc iv.
Ztfor. And you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped Fool. I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are; 175 they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt have me whipped for lying, and sometimes I am whipped for holding ray peace. I had rather be any kind o' thing than a Fool ; and yet I would not be thee, nunde; tho\i hast pared thy wit o' both sides and left nothing i' th' middle. Here comes 180 one o' the parings.
EnUr GONERIL.
Lear. How now, daughter? what makes that frontlet on? Methinks you are too much of late i' th' frown.
174. And\ Q„ Ff, Rowc^ Sch. If 180^ Here\ keare F,.
Q,, Pope +, Cap. Jen. Stccv. MaL Ec. 181. <f the\ of the Qq, Cap.
Bos. An Knt et cet. 182. Scen£ xiv. Pope -f , Jen.
Hrrahl Om. Qq. 182, 183. Hcw^.frawm] Prose, Ff.
176. ikot^ir\ thou win Qq, Jen. Two lines, Qq, Coll. i. Sing. Wh. Sta.
177. sometimes] fomeiime Qq. Ktly, Sch.
178. 0*] ^/Qq, Cap. Jen. Steev. Mai. 182. eUmghierl our daugkur Ktly. Ec. Bos. Knt, Sing. Ktly. onf] om, Qq.
280. 0* boih] a both Qq. 183. Methinks] Om. Ff, Rowe+, Jen.
f M'] in the Qq, Cap. Steev. MaL of late] alate Qq.
£c. Bos. Knt, Sing. Ktly.
179. thee] Abbott, S213? «Thee' for thm is found after the verb to be not merely here in the Fool's mouth, but also in Tim, IV, iii, 277, and in % Hen, VI: IV, i, 117. In these cases ' thee' represents a person not regarded as acting, but about whom something is predicated.
181. Goneril] Coleridge: The monster Goneril prepares what is necessary, while the character of Albany renders a still more maddening grievance possible — namely, Regan and Cornwall in perfect sympathy of monstrosity. Not a sentiment, not an image, which can give pleasure on its own account, is admitted. Whenever these 'creatures are introduced, and they are brought forward as little as possible, pure horror reigns throughout. In this scene, and in all the early speeches of Lear, the one general sentiment of filial ingratitude prevails as the main-spring of the feelings; — in this early stage the outward object causing the pressure on the mind, which is not yet sufficiently familiarized with the anguish for the imag^ation to work nponit
182. frontlet] Steevens: Compare the following in The Four P^s, 1569 [vol.i, p. 70, ed. Dodsley ; the Pardoner has asked why women are so long dressing aftec they get up in the morning, and the Pedler replies, with a play upon the word let^ meaning hindrance] : * Forsoth, women have many lettes. And they be masked in many nettes: As frontlettes, fyllettes, partlettes, and bracelettes; And then theyi bonettes, and theyr poynettes. By these lettes and nettes, the lette is suche. That spede is small, whan haste is muche.' And more appositely, in Zepheria, a collec* tion of Sonnets, 1594 [Canzon. 27. — ^Wright] : ' But now my sunne it fits thou take thy set. And vayle thy face wkh frownes as with a frontlet.' Malone: A ' frontlet*
ACT f. sc iv.] KING LEAR ^^
Fool. Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for her frowning; now thou art an O with- 185 out a figure; I am better than thou art now; I am a Fool, thou art nothing. — ^Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face bids me, though you say nothing. Mum» mum;
He that keeps nor crust nor crumby 190
Weary of all^ shaU want some. — That's a shealed peascod
185. fraumingi frcwne Qq. Jen. 1 90. nor crumb] not cntmb F,F,.
187. [ToGon. Pope. 192. [Pointing to Lear. Johns. Speak-
188. MHtiif mum;"] Separate line, ing to Lear. Warb. To Kent, shewing Cam. Lear. Cap.
[Singing. Rowe +, Coll. Thafs] Thou art Warb.
188,19a ^ifOT...crumb] Cap. One sh€alt<{\sheirdQx^,\rti.Zo^,\\u
line, QqFf +, Jen. Sch. pea5cod\ Pope ii. Pefcod QqFC 190. nor crust] neither eruft Qq, Jen.
was a forehead cloth, used formerly by ladies at night to render that part smooth. So in Lyly's Euphues [p. 286, ed. Arber] : ' The next daye I comming to the gallery where she was soUtaryly walking, with her frowning cloth, as sick lately of the solens,' &c Staunton : The very remarkable effect of this band, in the contrac* tion of the brows, may be observed in some of the monumental effigies of the four« teenth century, and especially in those small figures usually called ' Weepers' which are found standing in tabernacles, on the sides of rich altar-tombs of the same period. Lear, however, may be supposed to speak metaphorically. Wright: Compare I Hen. IV: I, iii, 19: 'And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow,' where < frontier* is apparently used with some reference to tin or head-dress.
188. bids me] Moberly gathers from this ' that the Fool is really mad, so far that he cannot control his gibes ; for he goes on again directly in spite of his manifest dread of Gonerirs wrath.' [To the present editor this inference is incomprehen« sible, unless ' really mad ' be taken in the Yankee sense of ' real mad.']
190, 191. He . . . some] Dyce agrees with Collier in thinking that these and lines 208, 209 are fragments of some satirical ballad.
192. That's . . . peascod] Warburton was the first to insert a stage-direction here, directly referring this sentence to Lear, and he 'lias been followed, I think, by all edd. except Delius. As though the p>oint were not made thereby sufficiently clear, Warburton changed ' That's ' to Thou art, I cannot help thinking that stage- directions like these are in general needless, not to say obtrusive. If the action is so clear that the humblest intellect can perceive it, surely a stage-direction is super- fluous; for instance, when the Fool says to Kent, < Here's my coxcomb,' does any one require to be told that he here offers Kent his cap? When Lear says 'There's earnest of thy service,' may not an editor assume that a reader has some intelligence, and needs not to be told that Lear here * gives Kent money ' ? In the present in- stance the application is sufficiently clear without any indication with the finger.— Ed.
7*
78 KING LEAR [act I. scriv.
Gon. Not only, sir, this your all-licensed Fool, But other of your insolent retinue
Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth I95
In rank and not to be endured riots. Sir, I had thought, by making this well known unto you. To have found a safe redress ; but now grow fearful, By what yourself too late have spoke and done. That you prote£l this course and put it on 200
By your allowance ; which if you should, the fault Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
193-206] Prose. Qq. Sepante line, Wh. Dyce ii, Huds.
193. this\ thus Johns. 197. had\ Cm. Pope+.
194. oihirl ptkers Johns, kncwnl kmm F^. 196. nei,„riois. Sir,'] Pointed as by ituto] to Quincy (MS)*
Cap. {nct,„indured riots,) Sir Q^, {not 200. piU it on] patt on Qii,
•.»riots) Sir, Q,. {not,.,end9tf*d) riots aoi. wkiek] Cm. Pope+, Jen.
.Sir. Ff (sabs.), Sch. not..,riotSt Sir 2024 rednssesl redreffe^ Q,. rtdreffi
Howe, Pope, Han. Jen. (^ Sir] Cm. Theob. Warb. Johns.
Cotgrave has, ^GoussipilU,' . . • vnhusked, shaled, vncased, stripped.' Johnson eiplains the phrase (if explanation be needed), « The outside of a king remains, but all the intrinsic parts of royalty are gone.'
Toilet (who* has been followed by many an editor without credit accorded to him), on the authority of Camden's Remains, states that Richard IPs effigy in West* minster Abbey is wrought with peascods open and the peas out; * perhaps,' adds Toilet, ' an allusion to his being once in full possession of sovereignty, but soon reduced to an empty title.' But Toilet's interpretation of this monumental symbolism is itself converted to a 'shealed peascod' by Wright's discovery that the peascods in question * are the pods of the platUa genista, or broom plant, the badge of the Plantagenets. Moreover, although the pods are open, the seeds are indicated.'
194. other] For other instances of die use of this word as a plural immoun, sea Abbott, § 12, p. 24.
196. Sir] Walker ( Vers, 269) : Perhaps, metri graiid, this word should be placed by itself, in a separate line. [See Textual Notes.]
198. To have found] See Ham. V, i, 233, or Abbott, 5 360.
200. put it on] Steevens: Promote it. So Macb. IV, iii, 239.
201. allowance] Malons: Approbation. Mobsrly: The rest of the sentence labours under a plethora of relatives. The meaning, however, is simple: * If yon instigate your men to riot I will check it, even though it offends you ; as that offence,
, wnich would otherwise be a shame, would be proved by the necessity to be a discreet
I proceeding.' * Yes,' replies the Fool, * and so the young cuckoo, wanting the nest
I to itself, was under the regrettable necessity of biting off the head of its foster-mother
the sparrow; which, under the drcnmstances, was not a shame, but an act of dis* \ €retion«'
ACT I, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 79
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal, Might in their working do you that ofTence, Which else were shame, that then necessity 20$
Will call discreet proceeding. Fool. For, you know, nuncle.
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long^
That it's had it head bit off by it young. So out went the candle, and we were left darkling. 210
205. lVkick'\ thai Qq. 209. it*s had it head] F,, Sta. Glo.
206. mii] muft Qq. Sch. it had ii head Qq, Wh. Ktly, Cam. proeeedingl proceediftgs Ci<{, Del. ii, Wr. it had if's kead F^F^,,
207. iii^/ipvivQq.Cap.Steev. Mai. Pope, Cap. its had Us kead Mob. it Ec. Bos. Coll. Del. Sing. Dyce i, Sta. had iit head F, et cet.
Ktly, Glo. Mob. by it] F,F„Sla. Wh. Ktly,Glo+,
208. [Singing. Coll. (MS). Del. ii, Mob. Sch. Mi Qq. by iff 208-209. The...young.] Verse, Pope. F^F^, Pope, Cap. by Us Rowe et cet.
Prose, QqFf.
203. tender • • . weal] Wright: That is, in caring for a sound or healthily or- ganized commonwealth. For 'tender' as a verb in this sense compare ffen, V: II, ii, 175. And for a play upon its other senses see Ham. I, iii, 106-109. For ' whole- tome ' in the sense of * healthy ' compare Ham. Ill, iv, 65. ' Weal ' for ' common- wealth ' occurs in Macb. Ill, iv, 76.
209. It head] See notes on Nam. I, ii, 216. Whitr thinks that < it's had * of the Folio is a mere misprint, and not an abbreviation of ' it has had ;' but Staunton, Wright, and the present Editor think that it is an abbreviation. So also does Schmidt. Tiessen {Archiv.f. d. n. Spr. Iviii, pt. ii, p. 160) suggests that ' it' here is baby talk, like < it grandam ' in King John. See also IV, ii, 32.
210. So • • • darkling] Steevens : Fanner concurs with me in supposing that this is a fragment of some old song. M alone : In a very old comedy called The Longer Thou Livest the more Foole Thou Arte^ about 1580, we find the following stage-direction : * Entreth Moros, counterfaiting a vaine gesture and a foolish countenance, synging the foote of many songs, as fools were wont.* Sir Joshua Reynolds : Shakespeare's fools are certainly copied from the life. The originals whom he copied were no doubt men of quick parts ; lively and sarcastic. Though they were licensed to say any thing, it was still necessary, to prevent giving offence, that everything they said should have a playful air; we may suppose, therefore, that they had a custom of taking off the edge of too sharp a speech by covering it hastily with the end of an old song, or any glib nonsense that came into the mind. I know no other way of accounting for the incoherent words with which Sh. often finishes this Fool's speeches. Knight [after quoting this note by Sir Joshua Reynolds, continues] : But the words before as are not incoherent words. The expression ' so out went the candle,' &c., may have been proverbial to signify the desertion of a man by his mercenary friends when he is become a < sheal'd peascod.' But Sh. found the almost identical image applied to the story of Lear as related by Spenser : ' But true it is, that, when the oit is spentf The tight goes out and wick is thrown away; So when he had resign'd his
^ment* His daughter 'gan despise his drooping day.'
80 KING USJIR [ACT I. SC. IV.
Lear. Are you our daughter ? 2 1 1
Can. Come, sir, I would you would make use of that good wisdom Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away These dispositions which of late transport you 21$
From what you rightly are.
Fool. May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse ? Whoops Jug^ I love thee.
212. Gwf^, «V,]Oni.*rf+,Knt,CoU. „Jransform Jen. Steer. Md, £c. Bos. Del. Dyce i, Sla. Wh. Ktly, Sch. Coll. Sing. Wh. Ktly. iAai.,Jrans/orme
2X3'2i6. Prose, Qq, Mai. Steev. Bos. Qq et cet.
213. that'] ycurYi-^t Knt, Coll. Del. 218. Whoop..tliee] Italics, Ed. Sepa- Dyce i, Wh. Sch. rate line, Ff.
214. Whereof] Wheretmth Jen. conj. Jug,] lug Qq. lugge F,F, 21$. which Jransport] Ff+, Cap. ^W^F^F^.
Knt, Del Dyce i, Sta. Sch. which
2x0. darkling] Staitnton : This word which, like the Scotch darklins, implied in the darh, is found in the ancient comedy of Roister Doister^ III, iii. [p. 41, ed, Sh. Soc.] : ' He will go darklyng to his grave.' See also Mid, N, D, II, ii, 86. Wright: For the adverbial termination *-ling/ or *-long,' see Morris, English Accidence^ p. 194, and compare 'flatlong,' Temp, II, i, z8i. ' Hedlynge* and ' bed* lynges ' are found in the Glossary to the Wicliffite versions.
214. fraught] Schmidt: Equivalent toy>rz^iW/ usually followed by «^i / only in this passage by *of.'
215. dispositions] Compare * antic disposition,' Ham, I, v, 172, and Macb, III. iv, 113.
215. transport] In support of the Ff, Schmidt cites ' Being transported by my jealousies to bloody thoughts.' — Wint, Tale, III, ii, 159. ' Ypu are transported by calamity.' — Cor. I, i, 77.
218. Whoop . • • thee] Steevrns : This is, as I am informed, a quotation from the burthen of an old song. Halltwell: * Jug* was the old nickname for Joan, and it was also a term of endearment. Edward Alleyn, the player, writing to his wife in 1593, says : * And, Jug, I pray you lett my orayng-tawny stokins of wolen be dyed a newe good blak against I com hom, to wear in winter.' So also, ' If I be I, and thou bc'st one, Tell me, sweet Jugge, how spell'st thou Jone.' — Cotgrave's fVtti Interpreter^ 1671, p. 1x6. MoBERLY: He seems to mean, 'As things have got the wrong way forward, I know what fair lady I must pay my court to now.' ' Jug' is a vulgar form of 'Jane,' and he expresses the idea present to his mind in the first grotesquely similar form which his memory suggests. [At the end of the edition of Heywood's Rape 0/ Lucrece, printed in 1638, a song is given which begins: 'Arise, arise, my Juggie, my Puggie,' and Juggie replies in the next verse, 'Begon, begon, my Willie, my Billie.' In a note on the present passage, in his translation of Lear, Jordan says that ' Whoop ' may mean either a shout or a bird, the hoopoo ; and that 'Jug* may mean, first, the nickname for Joan; secondly, a pool or puddle [where did he find this meaning?] ; and thirdly, it may be an imperative of a verb io jug, which he informs us means to entice like a bird, especially to imitate the note
Acri. sc. iv.J KING LEAR 8 1
Lear. Does any here know me ? This is not Lear. Does Lear walk thus ? speak thus ? Where are his eyes ? 220 Either his notion weakens, his discernings Are lethargied — Ha ! waking ? 'tis not so. Who is it that can tell me who I am ?
219-224. Does„^hadow,'\ Prose, Qq, ending Ha t.„me,.,am t Ktly (adopting
Mai. Steev. Bos. Coll. Sing. the Qq).
219, 220. Doe5\ Do's F,FjF^. Dos 222. lethargied—'] Rowe. Lethar-
F,. Doth Qq, Glo. +, Dyce ii. gied, Ff, Knt, Del. Uthergie, Q,. //M-
219. /><7/j...Z/tfr/] Rowe. Two lines, trgy, Q,.
Ff. Ha ! 7vaking ^] fleeping or wak'
This] why this Qq, Jen. Steev. ing; ha! fure Qq, Mai. Steev, Bos.
Mai. £c. Bos. Coll. Sing. Dyce ii, Ktly. Coll. Sing. Ktly.
221. notion weakens] notion^ weaknes Uis] sure *tis Wh. (adopting the
Q,. notion, weakneffe, Q,. Ff ).
his discernings] Ff + , Cap. Knt, 223-227. lVho.„daughters] Four lines,
Del. Dyce i, Sta. Glo. +, Mob. Sch. or ending shadow^ marks reason..,*
his di/cemings Qq et cet. daughters. Steev. '78, '85.
222-223. Are.„.amf] Three lines,
of a nightingale. These three meanings yield three interpretations : first, the usual one, as the refrain of a ballad ; second, as the answer to the foregoing question
* May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse ?' and to be paraphrased 1
* Gee-up, "^puddle ! I love thee !' and supposed to be addressed by the cart to the mud-hole into which it rolls back, thus drawing the horse after it ; and lastly, we have the interpretation adopted by the translator himself, with this explanation : Goneril having shown in her first speech to her father how foul her thoughts are, changes her tone when she next speaks to him, and cloaks her reproaches under the garb of filial love; but the Fool detects her, and, designating her as a hoopoo, which is supposed to be a filthy bird, says to her : Sing, hoopoo, like a nightingale, the words * I love thee,' or, as in the translation : * Sing, Dreckhahn, wie *ne Nachtigall : Ich liebe dich.'— Ed.]
219-228. Does • • • father] Whether it be due to the incoherence of Lear's^ passion or to the sophistications of the compositor, these lines have given rise to much discussion among the early commentators. The later editors have been con- cerned chiefly with the metrical arrangement, and have little or nothing to say about the meaning of the passage. Roderick (Can. of Crit., p. 267, 1765, ed. vii) holds Lear*s first speech (lines 219-223) to be ironical. Goneril has told him that he is transported beyond himself, and he ironically absents to it. To support this view,. Roderick changes ' Ha ! waking?' into '^r waking;' that is, * This is not Lear, — whether in lethargy or waking — it is not Lear.' He would also change * Who is it that can tell me?' into * Who is it then can tell me?' Here the irony ceases and serious resentment begins. * If I were to be persuaded by the marks of {i. e. the distinction and respect due to) my sovereignty (as king), my knowledge (as an old man, of long experience) or my reason (as a man, one of the superior sex) that I had daughters, it would appear that I was falsely so persuaded. You are therefore a stranger, and I demand your name.' This interpretation of Roderick's needs no fcfatation. Heath denounces it as unnatural to a person in Lear's situation, just
F
82 KING LEAR [act i. sc. iv.
[219-228. Does • • . father] then transported to the highest pitch of astonishment, and not yet sufficiently familiar* ised to his misfortunes, nor cool enough, to treat the author of them ironically. Heath himself interprets lines 221, 222 : ' Either his apprehension b decayed, hb faculty of discernment is buried under a lethargic sleep, or —here he was about to go on to the other alternative— vix: he is in his sober senses and broad awake, when the sudden whirl of passion on the bare imagination that what had passed is real, so overwhelms him that he breaks off: *Ha4 what] that it should be possible that I am now awake ? It cannot be, 'tis impossible.' Warbukton aroused the critics by his dog- matic assertion that we should read 'sovereignty ^ knowledge'— t. e. the under* standing, like ' sovereignty of reason' in Ham,<, because his sovereignty or kingship would not enable Lear to judge whether or not these were his daughters. Heath as usual flouts and routs Warburton, but without giving a much better interpretation of the phrase. He defines 'sovereigtity' as that self-command which distinguishes the man in his senses from a lunatic or idiot : ' If I should give credit to thpse marks I perceive in myself of being in my right senses, and endued with knowledge and reason, I should be persuaded I had daughters,' &c. Tyrwhitt says that the difficulty is ' to conceive how '< the iharks of sovereignty, of knowledge, and of reason*' should be of any use to persuade Lear that he had or had not daughters. No logic could draw such a conclusion from such premises. Thb difficulty may be entirely removed by only pointing the passage thus : " for by the marks of sovereignty^ knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded. — I had daughters. — ^Your name, fair gentlewoman?" The chain of Lc»sr's speech being thus untangled, we can clearly trace the succession and connection of his ideas. The undutiful behaviour of hb daughter so disconcerts him that he doubts by turns whether she b Goneril and whether he himself b Lear. Upon her first speech, he only exclaims, '< Are you our daughter?" Upon her going on in the same style, he begins to question hb own sanity, and even hb personal identity. He appeab to the bystanders, "Who b it that can tell me who I am?" I should be glad to be told. For (if I was to judge myself) ly the marks of sovtnignty^ of knowledge, and of reason (which once db« tinguished Lear, but which I have now lost), I should he false (against my own consciousness) persuaded (that I am not I«ar). He then slides to the examina* tion of another distinguishing mark of Lear: "I had daughters." But not able, as it should seem, to dwell upon so tender a subject, he hastily recurs to hb first doubt concerning Goneril: «'Yottr name, fair gentlewoman?"' Of this note by Tyrwhitt, Johnson says that it is ' written with confidence dbproportionate to the conviction which it can bring. Lear might as well know by the marks and tokens arising from sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, that he had or had not daughters^ as he could know by anything else. But, says he, if I judge by these tokens, I find the persuasion fabe by which I long thought myself the father of daughters.' Mason says that by the marks of sovereignty Lear means those tokens of royalty which hb daughters then enjoyed as derived from him. But Malonb replies : * Lear had not parted with all the marks of sovereignty. In the midst of hb prodigality to hb children, he reserved to hunself the name and all the additions to a king.' Staun* TON says that thb passage is 'certainly obscure. Possibly the meaning may be restored by simply omitting the comma after "sovereignty," '< — by the marks of sovereignty knowledge and reason" — f./. of tupreme or sovereign knowledge, &c* Knight puts dashes, to indicate continued speech, after Lear's question, ' Who b it
ACT I, sc. iv.] ' KING LEAR 83
Fool, Lear's shadow.
* Lear. I would learn that ; for, by the marks of sover- 225 *eignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be false per-
* suaded I had daughters.
* FboL Which they will make an obedient father.* Lear. Your name, fair gentlewoman ?
224-227. Learns daughters^ Con- /^rxDycci. Yxi^\n%by..,rea5on„.daugh^
tinued to Lear, Qq, Pope, Theob. Han. ten Ktly. Ending sovereignty .per-
Warb. Jen. Sttfcv. '78, '85, '93, Mai. Ec. suaded., .daughters Dyce ii.
Bos. Coll. i. Three lines, ending war/tj 225. that^ Om. Pope, Theob. Han.
,..reason,„daughters Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. Ec.
Warb. Jen. Ec. Prose, Qq et cet. sovereignty] substantiality Jen.
224. shadowJ] Jhadow? Qq, Pope, 225-226. sovereignty^ reason^ Of
Theob. Han. Warb. Jen. Sieev. Mai. sovereignty^of knowledge ^ and of reason,
Ec. Bos. Coll. i, shadow,-' Sing. Pope, Theob. Han. Ec. Of sovereignty
Fool. Lears shadow.] Thus in of knowledge, and of reason, Warb.
Ff. Om. Rann. 226. false] fast Jen.
225-228. Lear. / would..,.,.father,] 227. daughters.] daughters — Knt.
Slcev. '73 (subs.) I would...fcther, Qc^, 228-229. Fool. W4iVA.../tfM^. Lear.]
Om. Ff, Rowe, Johns. Cap. Sch. Om. Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. Ec.
225-227. L..daughters] Three lines, 228. H^hieh they will] Q^ Which
ending ntarks.„reason...daughters Steev, they, will Q,Q,. IVhich of thee will Jen. '73. Ending sovereignty. ..reason... daugh"
that can tell me who I fim ? — ' ; after the Fool's answer, ' Lear's shadow. — ' ; and after ' I should be false persuaded I had daughters — *, and defends his punctuation on the ground that the Fool interrupts Lear with the answer, ' Lear's shadow,' and that Lear continues to speak without reference to the Fool's interposition, and that the Fool in the same way continues the thread of his comment : * Which they will make an obedient father.' Here ' which' refers to ' shadow.' In this interpretation Knight follows DoucE (ii, 147). A passage' of such defective metre as this could not escape Walker; accordingly {Crit, i, 4) he gives, line 221, 'Either his motion [sic. Probably a misprint.] weakens, or 's discemings;' and, following the Qq in lines 222-227, he thus arranges, and changes : ' — Sleeping or waking ? — Ha ! || Sure 'tis not so. II Who is't [omitting that] can tell me who I am ? — Lear's shadow ? — 1| I would learn that ; for by the marks of sov'reignty, || Knowledge and reason, I should be false persuaded || [That] I had daughters.' Lettsom, Walker's admirable editor, referring to Walker's adoption of the text of the Qq, says : ' It appears to me that just here the Qq give an unsophisticated text, though one disfigured by some palpable blunders, while in the Folio we have a text derived from a good original, but sophisticated in a blundering way for the sake of the metre.' Schmidt : Per* haps there is here a real gap in the Ff, but the lines which the Qq offer in its place are too questionable to be adopted in the text.
228. Which] Steevens : This is used with two deviations from present language; it is referred to the pronoun /, and it is employed for whom, DoucB, as we have seen in the preceding note, followed by Knight, Singer, and Hitdson, refers ' which ' to ' shadow.' Moberly, with more probability, explains it as an instance of the relative as the commonest connective used improperly.
84 KING LEAR [act 1. 8a ir.
Gon. This admiration, sir, is much o' th' savour 330
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you To understand my purposes aright; As you are old and reverend, you should be wise. Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires ; Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd, and bold, 33s
That this our court, infefled with their manners. Shows h'ke a riotous inn ; epicurism and lust Makes it more like a tavern or a brothel Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak
3JO-34S. Prose, Qq. Pope4-.
830. This admiration^ sir,'] Comejlr^ 233. you sAotUdl Om. Steev. oonj.
iAit admiration Qq. Comt^ sir; This 234. a hundred'\aloo.Q^ anokttm^
admiration Jen. Steev. Mai. Bos. dred <^.
d M'] of the Qq, Jen. 235. dehoiJCd^ dihoyjt Qq. debauched
savour'] favour Q,, Cap. Steev. Pope+, Cap. Steey. Mai. Ec. Bos. ColL
Mai. Ec. Bos. Coll. i, !i. Dyce i, DeL i. Del. i, Dyce ii, Huds.
Sta. Wh. Glo. Mob. 237. riotoui\ Om. Steer, conj.
233. To] Om. Qq. 238. Makes it more] Ff, Sch. make
233. As,„you skould] Q,. As you more Qq. Make it more Rowe et cet
are old and reuerend,Jhould Q,. As you a brother] brothell Qq.
are Old, and Reuerend,Jhould Ff, Knt, 239. graced] gradd Ff. great Qq.
Coll. Del. Dyce, Wh. Sch. You, as you The] Om. Pope, Theob. Haa«
are old and reverend, should Rowe, Cap. Warb. You, as you* re old and ret^rend, should
230. admiration] Astonishment. See I/am. I, ii, 192 : ' Season your admiration for a while.'
230. tavour] Capblli 'Whether the word of some old editions he favour or favour is hard pronouncing; nor is there much choice between them in this place.' If favour be adopted, Steevens rightly explains it as complexion, SCHMIPT deserts the Ff and follows Jane Bell's Quarto ! Because, as he says, savour bears no other meaning in Sh. than smell. But this is an assertion which I am afraid it would be hard to prove, so great is the confusion arising between the long /and/ In all the passages where the word is used, there is, as Capell says of the present, not much choice between favour and favour, and probably a master of fence, like Schmidt, could successfully uphold either.
233. you should] The omission of «yoa' in the Ff cannot be iustified, says Schmidt, by other examples in Sh., but its insertion lames the metre.
235. debosh'd] The old spelling of debauched, of which word, Wexxswood say* that the radical idea seems to be to throw out of course, from bauche, a row, rank, or course of stones, or bricks, in building.
237-238. epicurism • • . lust, . . • tavern • • • brothel] An instance of what Corson calls a respective construction. The first word refers to the third and the second to the fourth. See Ifam. IV, vii, 82.
239. graced] Warburton: A palace graced by the presence of a sovereign* Bat Schmidt {Lex,) interprets it better as 'full of grace, dignified, honourable.'
ACT I, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 85
For instant remedy. Be then desired . 240
By her^ that else will take the thing she begs, A little to disquantity your train, And the remainder, that shall still depend, To be such men as may besort your age, Which know themselves and you. Lear. Darkness and devils I — 245
240. iken'\ ihou Qq. Del. Dyce, Sta. Wh. Cam. Hads. Sch.
242. A little] Of fifty Popc+, Jen. thai Q,. and Q, et cet.
2\l, riniainder\ remainders Ff4-» 2^$, deuils\DeuilsCl^, DmelsQJP^,
Sch. IHvels F,. 245. Whick] Tf, Rowe, Knt, CoU.
342. A little] Pope changed this to 0/ fifty, on the ground that Lear shortly afterwards specifies this as the nnmber that was to be cut of, and yet Goneril had no- where specified it. Stesvems explains the difficulty that Pope finds (of course, not without a sneer at Pope) by assuming that some one tells Lear how many of his followers he is to lose, in the few minutes that Lear is absent from the scene between lines 283 and 287. * Goneril,' adds Steevens, ' with great art, is made to avoid men- tioning the limited number, and leaves her father to be informed of it by accident ^hich she knew would be the case as soon as he left her presence.* [Surely, a sim- ple oversight on Shakespeare's part, or a trick his memory played him. In the old play oi'JCing Leir, Gonorill says she has ' restrained halfe his portion.' See Ap- pendix.— Ed.]
242. disquantity] Delius: Compare ' disnatured,' in line 277 of thb scene. [And other instances of similar words in Abbott, $ 439.]
243-244. the remainder • • • to be] For similar instances, where the noun and infinitive are used as subject or object, see Abbott, § 354. Schmidt supports the Folio text by citing Cymb, I, i, 129 : ' The gods protect you 1 And bless the good remainders of the court'
243. depend] Warburton interprets 'continue in service;' or, as Wright says, *that shall still remain dependents,' but Schmidt denies this meaning, and maintains with DsutJS that the phrase signifies : < this shall still be one of the conditions, that they are men as may besort your age,' &c. * Even if dependant means a retainer, a servant, the verb depend, used absolutely, never means to serve, to be a in a person* s sendee, but it Indicates the opposite of personal freedom, the position of a subject and bondman. " A life so stinkingly depending," in Meas, for Meas, III, ii, 28, means, a life which is the slave of disgusting coarseness. The remark *' you depend upon Lord Paris," in Tro, and Cres., whidi, of course, means you are one of the servants of Lord Paris,— a simple menial perverts by the reply, " I depend upon the lord." If '< that," in the present passage, be a relative, the phrase can only mean : that shall continue to remain servants, not their own masters.' [Which is exactly what Wright says it means; and is not only the simpler explanation of the two, but wholly avoids any grammatical difficulty. According to Schmidt's interpreta- tion the sentence is an anacoluthon, — there is no verb for ' remainder,' and he has to suggest that, grammatically, ' To be such men,' should be ' On their being such men.*— Ed.]
8
86 KING LEAR [act I. sc. iv.
Saddle my horses I call my train together ! — 246
Degenerate bastard ! I'll not trouble thee. Yet have I left a daughter.
Gon. You strike my people, and your disorder'd rabble Make servants of their betters. 250
Enter ALBANY.
Lear. Woe, that too late repents, — O, sir, are you come ? Is it your will ? Speak, sir. — Prepare my horses. — Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend. More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child Than the sea-monster !
Alb. Pray, sir, be patient 255
Lear. Detested kite ! thou liest My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
249-250. Y(ni..,betUn.'\ Verse, Rowc 251. O, sir,. .come ^^ Om. Ff, Rowe,
ii. Prose, QqFf. Pope, Sch.
250. Enter Albany.] Enter Duke. Qq. 252. will t.., Prepare my\ Johns, tvt//,
251. SCENB XV. Pope+, Jen. The fpeak^ Sirt Prepare my Ff+. will rest of the Scene, except lines 540, 541, that wee prepare any Qq.
is prose in Qq. 255-256. Alb. Pray^ sir, be patient.
fVife,...refienfs,'-']CsLp. fVoet... Lear.] Om. Qq. repents-^ Rowe+, }Voe^...repents : Ff. 255. sir] you, sir Han*
We that too laU repenfs, Q,. IVe that 256. [To Gon. Rowe.
too late repenfs vs ; Q,. Fool! that too • 256-257. liest. My train are] lift my
late repent'st—" Jen. IVoe's him that too fraine, and Q.. leffen my traine ami
late repents— Ktly. Q,.
[To Alb. Rowe.
254. thee] For other instances of the use of < thee ' for thyself, see Abbott, $ 223.
255. sea-monster] Upton {Crit. Obs., p. 203, ed. ii) obsenres that this is the hippopotamus, the hieroglyphical symbol of impiety and ingratitude; and suggests :
Than t*M' sea-monster.' Hudson: But that beast never lives in the sea; it is a riv/r-monster. If the poet had any particular animal in view, I suspect it was the one that behaved so ungently at old Troy,— alluded to in Mer. of Ven. Ill, ii, 57. W&IGHT [who gives a fuller quotation than Upton from Sandys] : Sandys ( Travels, p. 105, ed. 1637) gives a picture said to be portrayed in the porch of the temple of Minerva at Sals, in which is the figure of a river-horse, denoting ' murder, impudence, vio- lence, and injustice ; for they say that he killeth his Sire, and ravisheth his owne dam.' His account is evidently taken from Plutarch's Isis and Osiris, and Sh. may have read it in Holland's translation, p. 1300; but why he should call the river-horse a ' sea-monster ' is not clear. It is more likely that by the sea-monster he meant the whale. See IV, ii, 49f 5© ; ^/^'' Wr//, IV, iii, 249 ; Tro. and Ores. V, v, 23.
257. choice and rarest] Wright thinks that the superlative termination belongs to both adjectives, and refers to Abbott, § 398.
ACri.sciv.1 KING LEAR 87
That all particulars of duty know.
And in the most exafl regard support
The worships of their name. — O most small fault, 260
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show !
Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature
From the fix*d place ; drew from my heart all love
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear !
Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in 265
And thy dear judgement out ! — Go, go, my people.
Alb. My lord, I am guildess, as I am ignorant Of what hath moved you.
Lear. It may be so, my lord. —
26a The\ Their YJ^. my people! Mai. conj.
name'\ naptesKoirt-ir , 267. I am,„I ami] Pm^^tm Pope-f »
262. WhuK\ thai Qq, Glo. -f , Mob. Dyce ii, Huds.
264. Lear^Lear^ Lear t] Lear t Lear t 268. Of whai,„you,'] Om. ()<{,
Qq, Han. Jen. lord,] Lord, Qq, F^F^F^. iord-^
265. [Striking his head. Pope. Rowe+, Jen. Knt
266. dear] r/nir Anon.* 268-271. It.,.fruitful :] Three lines, Go,„peopieJ\ goe^ goe^ my people f ending nature, hear ;,„if,., fruitful t Mai.
Qq. Go, go; my people! Qj. Go,go:~^ Steev. Bos. Coll. iii.
260. worships] Dycb: (Qy) * The worships of their names} or 'The wonhip of their name.* ? Hudson : Wonhip [which is Hudson's reading and an emendation of Collier's (MS)] was oAen used in much the same sense as honour. One of the commonest misprints in the old copies is that of the plural for the singular. [I can- not think that the plural is a misprint here. See ' As needful in our loves,' Ham. I, i, 173, and Clarendon's note there cited. — Ed.]
262. engine] Edwards {Can. of Crit., p. 202, ed. vii) : Alluding to the rack. Stesvens; Compare Beau, and Fl., The Night Walhtr, IV, ▼: 'Their souls shot through with adders, torn on engines.' Wright : Chaucer has ' engined ' for * rack- ed,' Nonne Prestes Tale, 16546 : ' And right anoon the mynistres of that toun Han hent the carter, and so sore him pyned. And eek the hostiller so sore engyned.' In Temp. II, i, i6i« the word is used of a warlike machine.
266. dear] This word, which here means choice, precious, is used by Sh. to sig- nify qualities the very opposite of dear, beloved, heartsome, such as ' dearest foe,' Ham. I, ii. 182 ; < my father hated his [Orlando's] father dearly,' As You Lihe It, I, iii, 34 ; ' in terms so bloody and so dear,' TwcL N. V, i, 74; < dearest groans of a mother,' AlFs IVell, IV, v, ii; 'dear guiltiness,' Lovis Lab. V, ii, 801, &c &c. Craxk (in a note on ' dearer than thy death,' Jul, Cas. Ill, i, 196) supposes that the notion of love properly involved in ' dear,' having become generalized into'that of a strong affection of any kind, then passed into that of such an emotion the very reverse of love. In such phrases as ' dearest foe ' and ' hating dearly ' the word need not be understood as implying more than strong or passionate emotion. This explanation of Craik*s led the way to the concise definition given in the Qarendon edition of Ham. : that ' dear ' is used of whatever touches us nearly in love or hate^
88 KING LEAR [actx^scIt.
Hear, Nature, hear; dear goddess, hear!
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend 270
269. Hear\ Heart F,F,. karki Qq. Rowe, Pope, Han. Sch.
Naiure,„,goddess] Nature tMiarp 269. hear f\Om,Q<\, hearafaihtrl
dear goddess Cap. Wh. Pbpe, Theob. Han. Warb. Cap. Ec
hear; dear] Theob. hearedeere 269, 275. Lines end Suspend..jnake
QqF,F,. htar dear F,. hear^ dear F^, ...comfey,.^gans,..never..Jeem^ Ktly.
joy or sorrow. To which, I think, may be added Singer's observation that it imports in general the excess, the utmost, the superlative of that, whatever it may be, to which it is applied. — Ed.
269. Davies {Dram, Misc. ii, 180) : I have heard certain critics complain that, in pronouncing this denunciation, Garrick was too deliberate, and not so quick in the emission of his words as he ought to have been ; that he did not yield to that im- petuosity which the situation required. • . . Garrick rendered the curse so terribly affecting to the audience, that, during his utterance of it, they seemed to shrink from it as from a blast of lightning. His preparation for it was extremely affecting ; his throwing away his crutch, kneeling on one knee, clasping his hands together, and lifting his eyes toward heaven, presented a picture worthy the pencil of Raphael. . . . Dr Franklin [the translator of Sophocles] thinks nothing can exceed the bit- terness of C£dipus*s execration of his two sons, except perhaps this curse of Lear. BoADEN {Life ofKemble^ i, 378) 1 In January [1788] Kemble acted Lear [in Tate's version, to the Cordelia of Mrs. Siddons]. I have seen him since in the character, but he never again achieved the excellence of that night. Subsequently he was too elaborately aged, and quenched with infirmity the insane fire of the injured father. The curse, as he then uttered it, harrowed up die soul ; the gathering himself together, with hands convulsively clasped, the increasing fervour and rapidity, and the suffoca- tion of the concluding words, all evinced consummate skiU and original invention. The countenance, too, was finely made up, and in grandeur approached the most awful impersonation of Michael Angelo. Scott {On BoadetCs Life of KemhU^ Quarterly XevieWt April, 1826) : There was visible in Kemble's manner, at times, a sacrifice of eneigy of action to grace. We remember this observation being made by Mrs Siddons herself, who admired her brother in general as much as she loved him. Nor shall we easily forget the mode in which she illustrated her mean- ing. She arose and placed herself in the attitude of one of the old Egyptian statues; the knees joined together, and the feet turned a little inwards. She placed her elbows close to her sides, folded her hands, and held them upright, with the palms pressed to each other. Having made us observe that she had assumed one of the most constrained, and, therefore, most ungraceful positions possible, she proceeded to recite the curse of King Lear on his undutiful offspring in a manner which made hair rise and flesh creep, and then called on us to remark the additional effect which was gained by the concentrated energy which the unusual and ungraceful position in itself implied. T. R. Gould ( The Tragedian^ an Essay on the HiUriamc Genius of Junius Brutus Booih^ p. 142, New York, 1868): It is customary to call this im- precation on Goneril ' the curse.' This word roughens the sense of it unnecessarily. It is in substance a pagan prayer that she may be childless ; but ' if she must teem,* that her child may be a < thwart disnatnred torment to her ;' that she may suffer the tame kind and quality of anguish which she is now inflicting on her father. Hie
ACT I, sc ivj KING LEAR 89
To make this creature fruitful ; 271
Into her womb convey sterility;
Dry up in her the organs of increase.
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her ! If she must teem, 275
Create her child of spleen, that it may live
And be a thwart disnatured torment to her.
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth ;
277. thwar(\ thourt Qq.
dunaiured^ di/natur*d Ff. difuetur^d Qq. difvmtw/^d Q^.
principle of the prayer is ' an eye for an eye.' Putting ' Jehovah ' instead of * Nature, a Jew might have uttered it. Booth began it as a solemn adjuration to the unseen power of Nature. The indignant bitterness in the terms of imprecation seemed as if it was converted out of sweetest images of what a child should be, that lay in the core of his fatherly heart. This double action of his mind, in the agony which it mvolved, swayed and shook the kneeling figure, and lent his voice a wild vibration that drew involuntary sympathy and awe. The heart followed him as he arose and ran out with extended arms. . . . [When he re-enters, on the word < resume/ line 303] he cast the whole energy of his royal will, with a volumed, prolonged, and ringing intonation. His very figure seemed to dilate with majesty.
269. Nature • • • goddess] Whitb thinks that the arrangement in the present text, in comparison with his (see Textual Notes), loses in freedom, force, and rhythm.
274. derogate] Warburton: Unnatural. Heath : Here, it means whatever deviates from the course of nature. Edwards (apud Eccles) : Degenerate. John* SON: Rather, degraded [Thus, Dycb, C7^ji.], blasted. Malonb: Shrunk, wasted. See Bullokar*s J?if^. Expositor^ 162 1, ^Derogate. To empaire, diminish, or take away.' Delius : Dishonored, in opposition to the following < honour her.' Like many adjectives in -tf/^ it stands for derogated, Schmidt (Lex,) : Depraved, cor- rupt. Wright: Dishonoured, degraded. Todd, in his edition of Johnson's Die* tionary, quotes from Sir Thomas Elyot's Governor (1565), fol. 102 : * That he shoulde obteyne, yf he mought, of the kyng his father his gracious pardon, whereby no lawe or iustice should be derogate.' [Bullokar's definition applies to this use of ' derogate ' in Elyot's Govemor,1
277. thwart] Henderson : This word is found, as an adjective, in Promos and 'Cassandra, 1578 : ' Sith fortune thwart doth crosse my joys with care.' EcCLES refers to Milton, Par, Lost, viii, 1 32, and x, 1075, as instances of its use as an adjective. Schmidt : As an adj. nowhere else in Sh.
277. disnatured] Steevens : Wanting in natural affection. So Daniel, HymetCi Triumph [II, iv, p. 291, ed. 1623 — ^Wright] :' I am not so disnatured a man, or so ill borne to disesteeme her loue.' Henderson, from the text of Qi<^i conjectured disfeaiuf^d,
278. brow of youth] Wright: Youthful brow. Compare <mind of love' for * loving mind ' in Mer, of Fen, II, viii, 42. Similarly ' brow of justice,' i ffen, IV^ IV, ill, 83 ; « Mind nf honour,' Meas, for Meas. II, iv, 179 ; ' thieves of mercy,' Ham^
8*
90 KING LEAR [act I, sc. iv.
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks ;
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits 28c
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child ! — ^Away, away 1 \ExU.
Alb., Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this ?
Can. Never affli£l yourself to know the cause, 285
But let his disposition have that scope That dotage gives it
Re-emiir LlAR.
Lear. What, fifty of my followers at a clap ? Within a fortnight? Alb. Whaf s the matter^ sir ? 289
279. eadmt'l aeeeni Qq. tatuUni 285. tht cau$e\ more of it F,, Johns.
Theob. Warb. acrid or ardtmi Anon* Knt DeL Dyce. i, Sch. of it F^F^Fj,
281. feet] ftele, tkaijke moyfeeU, Q,. Rowe + . of what Han.
283. Away^ away/] goe^goi^ my peo- 287. That] As Ff» Rowe, Pope, Han. put Qq. Pope+. Knt. ColL i, Del. Dyce i, Sch.
[Exit] Om. Qq. Re-enter Lear.] Jen. Enter
284. New..Jhist\ Two lines. Ff. Lear. FT. Om. Qq. Rowe. 289. Whaes\ What is Qq.
whereof] wherefore Johns.
IV, vi. 19; 'time of scorn/ 0th. IV, ii. 54; 'mole of natoie/ Ifam. I, iv. 24; 'spirit of health,' Nam. I, iv, 40. [And many other instances in Abbott, $ 423.]
279. cadent] Stsevens: Falling. Moberly: The effect of an nnnsoal word formed from the Latin or Greek is often veiy great in poetiy. Thus, Milton speaks of the 'glassy, cool, translucent wave,' and Wordsworth of the river, • diaphanous because* it travels slowly,' both words being far more effective than the common word ' transparent.'
280. her mother's paint and benefits] Roderick {Can, ofCrit. p. 268, ed. vii) interprets this as referring to the pains of childbirth, and to the benefits both of nursing and instruction ; and believes that ' a most exquisite stroke of nature ' is lost unless we perceive, by the use of ' one little syllable, — her,' that Sh. talks of the supposed child as a Daughter, not a son. Malonb very properly says that < mother's pains' refer to maternal cares, and that 'benefits ' means good offices, her kind and beneficent attention to the education of her ofispring, and that ' her ' refers to Goneril herself.
282. How sharper, ftc] Malone: So Fsatms, cxl, 3: 'They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent; adders' poison is under their lips.' Moberly: We should have to go to the book of Deuteronomy to find a parallel for the concentrated force of this curse. Can it be Lear who so sternly and simply stabs to the very inward heart ■ of woman's blessedness, leaving his wicked daughter blasted and scathed for ever by his withering words ?
289. Within a fortnight] Eocles conjectures that this may refer to that portion
Acri,sc.iv.] KING LEAR 9 1
Lear. I'll tell thee. — ^Life and death ! I am ashamed 290
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus ; That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon theel Th' untented woundings of a father's curse Pierce every sense about thee ! Old fond ^y^s^ 295
Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out And cast you with the waters that you lose, To temper clay. Ha ! * is it come to this ? * Let it be so. I have another daughter,
290. ru...jukamed\ Rowe. Two once Rowe, Pope, Han. lines, Ff. 296. yi\ you Qq, Cap. Steev. Mai. Ec
[To Gon. Theob. Bos. Coll. Del. i, Dyce i, Wh. Ktly.
292. wkUk'\ that Qq* 297. east you] you eafi Qq.
2^^. Should..... Jheef] Rowe. Two iose']loo/e¥^V^,Si9umakeQt{,'itti,
lines, Ff. 298. To temper eiayl Separate line,
thee worth them. Blasts] Cap. Sing. Ktly, Sch.
thee worth thtm,Blas^Ff . the worji Hal Jhis\ Pope. Hat Ff,
blajls Qq. Rowe, Knt, Coll. i, Del. i, Dyce i, Wh.
293. 294. upon thee I TV untented] Sing. KUy, Sch. yea^ VJt come to this t Q,. Theob. vpon thee : TV vntented Ff. ypon yea^ is it come to this t Q,» GIo. + , Mob. the vntented Q.. vpon the vntender Q^ 298, 299. To,.m\ Pope. One line,
294. untented] untender Pope. Ff, Rowe, Knt.
295. Pierce] peru/e Q,. 299. Let it be so,] Om. C^fi.
sense] fence Warb. / have another] yet haue I left u
theel Old] Theoh. thee. Old Qq, Mai. Steev. Bos. GI0.+, Mob. Del.
Ff. the old Q^. thtolde^. ti. Coll. ilL yet I haveUft a%\Jtvt.'l%.
vfi. thiscause]theeoneeY^f^. her '85, Ec.
only of the current month in which Lear has been staying with Albany and Goneril, and that he may haye already taken tip his abode many times alternately with both of his daughters; or else, these words might have reference to Ol future period, at the end of which such a number of his knights were to be dismissed. Some such explanations as these Eccles deems necessary in order to avoid the absurdity of sup- posing that the news of Lear's brutal treatment could have reached Cordelia, and that she could have invaded England with a large army within a fortnight after her dismissal from her father's presence. [See Appendix, Daniel's Time-Analysis^ p. 4x0.] 294. untented] Tubobald: A wounding of such a sharp, inveterate nature that nothing shall be able to tent it—- f.>. search the bottom^ and help in the cure of it. Steevens : It may possibly signify here such wounds as will not admit of having a tent put into them. [For <tent,' see Ham. II, ii, 573.]
296. beweep] For instances when the prefix be is used to give a transitive signifi- cation to,verbs that, without this prefix, must require prepositions, see Abbott, $438.
297. lose] Staunton justifies loose of F, as meaning to discharge^ and I am by no means sure that this reading is not to be preferred.
299. Walker {Crit. ii, 284) interprets yet of the Qq as meaning asyet^ and citei similar instances.
92 KING LEAR [ACT 1, SC. hr.
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable. 300
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
Shell flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
I have cast off for ever. * Thou shalt, I warrant thee.*
\Exeunt Lear^ Kent, and Attendants.
Gon. Do you mark that, my lord ? 305
Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril, To the great love I bear you, —
Gon. Pray you, content — ^What, Oswald, ho ! — You, sir, more knave than fool, afler your master.
Fool. Nuncle Lear^ nuncle Lear, tarry; take the Fool 310 with thee. —
A fox, when one has caught her. And such a daughter,
300. Who\ whom Qq^ 508, 309. Pray,..mor€\ Cawu Jir n9
302. Jlay\ Jen. JUa Q^Ff. /Uy (^. more^ you^ more Q,- Comejir^ no mon /
304. Thou„.JheeJ] Om. Ff +, Knt, you^ more Q^
CoU. Sing. Dycc i, Del. Wh. What...mafter\ One line, Ktly.
[Exeunt...] Exeunt Lear, Kent, 308. conUnf] iecoHitnt Rowe -I-, Jen.
Oen. and Att. Capell. Om. Q,. Exit Ktly.
Q,Ff. Exit Lear and attendants. Rowe. 309. [To the FooL Johns.
305. Scene XVI. Pope +» Jen. 310. NuncU^^^Liar] Separate line, my iord'\ Om. Ff +, Knt, Sing. Ff, Rowe.
Dyce i, Del. ii, Ktly, Sch. take\ and take Qq» Jen. Steev.
307-309. To tk€,„master.'\ As in Ff» Mai. Ec. Bos. Coll. Del. Sing. Dyce t.
The lines end content,. „hoL,..mastir. Sta. Wh. Glo. Ktly, Wr.
Cap. eontent.^.../oo/,...majter.yfalker, 311,312. with thee. A fox] wit A a
307. yoUf — 1 Theob. yon, Q,. you* fox Qq. Q,Ff.
300. comfortable] Walker (Crit. i, 98) \ This word, and in like manner uneem- fofrtahle and discomfortabUt are uniformly applied to a person, or to a thing per* sonified, the idea of will and purpose being always implied in them. [See also Walker {Crit. i, 183); Abbott, $3; Ham. I, i, 57; Macb. II, i, 36; Rom. 6* Jui. V, iii, 148.] Wright : Compare also the expression in the Communion Service : ' The most comfortable sacrament of the body and blood of Christ'
304. warrant] Walker ( Vers. 65) : This is usually a monosyllable. Compare I^am. 1, it, 242. [See also Abbott, $463.]
305. Coleridge: Observe the baffled endeavor of Goneril to act on the fears of Albany, and yet his passiveness, his inertia/ he is not convinced, and yet he is afraid of looking into the thing. Such characters always yield to those who will take the trouble of governing them, or for them. Perhaps the influence of a princess, whose choice of him had royalized his state, may be some little excuse for Albany's weakness.
312-316. In reference to the rhymes in this jingle of the Fool, Elus (p. 963)
ACTi,sc.iv.] KING LEAR 93
Should sure to the slaughter,
If my cap would buy a halter. 315
So the Fool follows after. \Exit.
Can. This man hath had good counsel! A hundred knights 1 TTis politic and safe to let him keep At point a hundred knights ! Yes, that on every dream. Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, 320
He may enguard his dotage with their powers And hold our lives in mercy. — Oswald, I say!
4/^. Well, you may fear too far.
Gon. Safer than trust too far.
Let me still take away the harms I fear.
Not fear still to be taken* I know his heart 325
What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister; If she sustain him and his hundred knights,
315. buy] by F,. Jen. Ec.
316. [Exit.] Om. Qq. 323. fear too far:\ fear too far; F,Fj. 317-328. This„Mnfitnesi\ Om. Qq. fear too far; — Rowe + {Jear too fear
317. This...knights f\ Rowe. Two Rowe i).
lines, Ff. trust too farj trusf; Steev. '93.
318. 'Tw]/!*/ Han. 2^$. taken] harm'd To^, Theob.
319. M point"] Om. Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. Sing. ii.
Han. Warb. 327. sAe] skill Y^^^.
322. in mercy] at mercy Pope +,
says that the last three are very remarkable, especially the last, including the word * halter.' When this rhyme occurs in modem ludicrous verse it is usual to say arUr^ darter. [I cannot reproduce these words in Glossic, and therefore roughly indicate the sounds. — Ed.] Whether any such ludicrous pronunciation then prevailed is not clear, but ildter would save every case, as ' halter* might well sink to haater, [la two other instances : Tam. the Shr, I, i, 245, 246 ; and Wint, Tale^ IV, i, Chorus, 27, 28, Sh., according to Ellis, rhymes daughter and after. In the'former of these two, the rhyme, as here in Lear^ may be meant to be ludicrous. See also I, v, 48, 49.]
319. At point] Schmidt {Lex,) : Completely, in fuU preparation for any emer- gency. [See III, i, 33, and Mach. IV, iii, 135, and notes.]
320. buzz] Compare ' buzzers,' Ham, IV, ▼, 86.
321. enguard] Abbott, §440; This is here used In its proper sense of en^ closing,
322. in mercy] Malone: Jn misericordid is the legal phrase.
325. taken] CApell: This imports— taken with harm, f. e. o'er-taken. Mobbrly: ' Not have constantly to fear being overtaken myself.' Singer (ed. ii) : It is evident that the context requires harmed. The compositor's eye glancing on the preceding line, he has put ' taken' for the proper word.
94 KING LEAR [act i, sc. iv.
When I have show'd th' unfitness, — {Re-enter Oswald^
How now, Oswald !
What, have you writ that letter to my sister?
Osw. Ay, madam. 330
Gen. Take you some company, and away to horse ;
Inform her full of my particular fear,
And thereto add such reasons of your own
As may compadl it more. Get you gone ;
And hasten your return. — [Exit Oswald?^ No, no, my lord, 335
This milky gentleness and course of yours
Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon,
328. unfitruii^ — ] unfitness — Rowe. £7*, get Jen.
unfitneffe. Ft. 335. And kasten,.J9rd] And haften
[Re-enter Oswald.] Coll. Enter your retume: no^ no, my Lord Ff. 6«
Steward. Ff. Om. Qq. ha/len your retume now my Lord Q,.
328. 329. How now, Oswald/ JVka/} and after your retume— mrw my Lord Con. IVAat q/wa/d,Ao. 0{wM.//eere Q,.
Madam. Con. W*a/Qq. [Exit Oswald.] Exit Steward.
329. tAat] this Qq. Rowe. Om. QqFf.
330. Ay^ I Ff. Yes Qq, Jen. GI0+, 336. milky'] milkie Q,. mildie Q,. MoU gentleness and] gentle, easy Jen,
331. and] Om. Pope, Han. 337. condemn not] dijlike not Qq.
332. fear] feares Qq. fearf Q^, Pope, condemn it not Pope+ , Cap. Steev. Ec, Theob. Han. Warb. Jen, Bos. Knt i, Coll. ii, Del. i, Ktly, Dyce ii.
334. Gef] So get Pope +, Cap. Ec pardon] your pardon ]tTi,
332. particular] Capell interprets this as referring to ' the business threaten*d by Lear ;' but Deuus and Moberly (less correctly, I think) suppose that it means the ' particulars of my fear.* Schmidt says that it is equivalent to personal, indi* vidual, private, and refers to \1, iv, 289, and V, i, 30.
334. compact] Johnson : Unite one circumstance with another so as to make a consistent account. Wright: Elsewhere used by Sh. only as a substantive or participle.
334. more] Malone: A dissyllable. So also Abbott, §480. To avoid this dissyllabic pronunciation of ' more,' Jennens inserted Go before ' Get you gone* — an emendation which was afterwards proposed by both Steevens and Walker. Dyce thinks most probably a word has dropped out of the line, * though our old poets seem occasionally to have used * more ' as a dissyllable. [See V, iii, 169.]
336. milky gentleness and course] Schmidt: That is, this milky gentleness of your course. See I, i, 247.
337. yet] Abbott, S 483 : A conjunction like * yet ' or < but,* implying hesitation, may naturally require a pause immediately after it ; and this pause may excuse the absence of an nnaccented syllable, additional stress being laid on the monosyllable. [Would it not be better courageously to insert an Mt* inthb line, as so many editors have done, including the conservative Dyce? — Ed.]
ACT I, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 95
You are much more at task for want of wisdom Than praised for harmful mildness.
Alb. How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell ; 349
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well
Gon. Nay, then —
Alb. Well, well ; th' event \Exeunt
338. Y<mare\ YourareY^, yareQf\4 341. better^ oft\ better cughiji^. at task for] F,F^^+, Cap. Jen. 342. tken^'\ then. Q,.
Ec. Sch. at taske for F,. attaskt for 343. well;] Stccv. well, QqFf, Rowe
Q,. alaptQ^, attask* d for Mal.etctL +, Cap. Jen.
339. Raised] praife Qq. M' event^ the iuent^ Q,. the harmful] harmless Rowe ii, *vent. Ff, Rowe i.
Pope, Han. Jen. [Exeunt.] Exit. Q^
340* 341. /low...welL] t^ose in Q,.
338. at task] JOHNSOK : It is a common phrase now with parents and gover« nesses: *ril take you to task/ t. e.l wiU reprehend and correct you. To be * at task,' therefore, is to be liable to reprehension and correction. Mason : Frequently used by Sh. in the sense of tax. Coluer (ed. ii) : May we not speculate that after all the poet's word was attacked? Halliwell: My copies of Q, and Q, both read alapt. Attask'd, that is, taxed. If the word alapt be correct, it probably agrees with the context if explained in the same way. as attasJ^d; and the term alapat, in the following passage, seems used in a similar sense : < And because the secret and privy boosome vices of nature are most offensive, and though least seene^ yet most undermining enemies, you must redouble your endeavor, not with a wand to alapai and strike them, onely as lovers, loath to hurt, so as like a snake they may growe together, and gette greater strength againe.' — Melton's Sixefold Politician^ p. 125. [Collier {Poet, Decameron^ ii, 305) thinks that this Sixefold Politician was written not by Melton, but by John Milton, the poet's father. — Ed.] Abbott, $ 437 : M' perhaps represents the Old English intensive prefix ' of,' which is some* times changed into 'an-,' 'on-,' or 'a-.' But the word ['attask'd' of Q,] is more probably a sort of imitation of the similar words, < attach ' and ' attack.* Moberly : Both 'task' and 'tax' are really the same, as we may see from Wedgwood's quota, tion : ' Every ploughland was tasked at three shillings.' Cambridge Editors : In the imperfect copy of Q, [i. e. Q, — Ed.] in the British Museum, ' attaskt for' was the original reading, but the first two letters of the word have been erased. In II, i, 123, 'lest,' the original reading, has been altered to 'best.' [As Schmidt says, there is no reason why attash^d of Q, should be preferred to the Folio. Dr Johnson's explanation, if any be needed, is ample.]
341. Malonb: Compare Son. ciii, lines 9, 10.
343. event] Hudson: Albany shrinks from a word-storm with his helpmate, and so tells her, in effect : ' Well, let us not quarrel about it, but wait and see how your course works.'
96 KING LEAR [act I, sc. v.
Scene V. Court before ike same. BnUr Lbar, Kent, and Fool.
Lear. Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you know than comes from her demand out of the letter. If your dili- gence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you.
Kent. I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your 5 letter.
FooL If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in danger of kibes?
Lear. Ay, boy.
Fool. Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall not go 10 slip-shod.
Scene v.] Scena Qninta Ff (Sctena Ec Bos. Coll. Del. Ktly. F,). Scene xvii. Popc+, Jen. Scene 7. brami\ brain Pope+-t
IV. Ec. were\ where Q,.
Court...] Cap. A court-yard be- tVj] F,, Cap. Coll. Dyce, Wh
longing to the Duke of Albany's Pdace. Glo.-f, Sch. ins F.. in his QqF,F^
Theob. et cet
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.] Enter wer^f] Rowe. wert QqFf.
Lear.Qj. Enter Lear, Kent, Gentleman, 10. prithee'] Yski. preiheQ^. prethee
and Foole. Ff. Q,F,. prythee F.FjF^.
4. afore] before Qq, Jen. JSteer. Mai. not] if^<rQq. ii^'/rGlo. + .
I. Go you] Jennens holds that this is addressed to the Gentleman whose en* trance with Lear is marked in the Ff. < It is plain,' he argues, < that the letter to Regan was sent by Kent; those to Glo'ster by another; the order to Kent was left out,' — his text accordingly reads : < Lear, \to a Gentleman] Go you before to Glo'ster with these letters. — ^You with this to my daughter Regan. \to Kent] Acquaint,' &c.
I. Gloucester] Capell, followed by the subsequent editors, has removed this difficulty, expressed by Jennens in the preceding note, by supposing that this name refers to the city of Gloucester, ' as is evident from the <* there " [in line 4] ; it is made the residence of Regan and Cornwall to give likelihood ' to their evening visit to Gloucester, II, iv, whose castle is in the neighborhood ; ' earls, in old time, had some dominion in the counties that gave them their titles, and resided there usually.'
7. brains] Walker (CW/. i, 256): Brain^ surely. Wright: Sh. uses both * brains' and < brain' indiscriminately, except in such phrases as 'to beat out the brains.' Here it is a singular, of which there is another, though doubtful, instance in Ham, III, i, 174, and a more certain one in AlVs Welly III, ii, 16: *The brains of my Cupid's knocked out.' Moberly : The fool laughs at Kent*s promise of rapidity, and says, first, < that when men's brains are in their heels ' (that is, when they have no more wit than is needed to go fast) ' they may get brain-chilblains ;' and secondly, * that as Lear has no brains, he is in no such danger.'
II. slip-sbod] EccLES: The customaiy resource of those who are afflicted with
ACi X. sc v.] JC/NG LEAR 97
Lear. Ha, ha, ha I 12
Fool. Shalt see, thy other daughter will use thee kindly; for though she's as like this as a crab's like an apple, yet I can tell what I can tell. 15
Lear. What canst tell, boy?
Fool. She will taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' th' middle en's &ce?
Lear. No,, 20
Fool. Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose, that what a man cannot smell out he may spy into.
Lear. I did her wrong —
Fool. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell ?
14. skei\Jhiei <^. flu is Q,. shes F,. 19. 9tCs\ of his Qq, Mai. Steev. Bos. crai^s] crab is Q^y Cap. Steev. Sing, of <m^s Pope+» Cap. Jen. Ec
Mai. Ec Bos. CoU. DeL crabbe is Q^ Knt. on his Ktly.
15. can tell whaf[ con, what Qq. 21. on^s"] onesYt his Qq, Mai. Steev.
16. Whatcansf\ Why^what canft thou Bos. Sing. Ktly.
Qq, Jen. Steer. Var. Sing. Ktly, GI0.+, </] ^ Qq» Cap. Steev. Ec Var
Mob. Sing. Ktly.
boy\ my boy Qq, Jen. Steev. Var, sid^s'l fide his Q^ Mai.. Steevr
Sing. Ktly, Glo. Wr. Mob. Bos. Sing. Ktly. side onis Rowe+,
17. Shi witt\ Sheet Q,. She^l Q^ Cap. Jen. Ec Knt. does'l dds Ff. doth Qq. 22. hel a Q,.
18. Thou canst} Thou canft not Qq, 23. wrong—'] Theob. wrong. Q^Ff. Jen. Sing, canfl thouFJF^-\-. wrong / Q^,
stands] stande Q,. 24. shell f]flLell. Qq.
f M'] in the Qq.
lubes. Singer paraphrases : For you show you have no wit in undertaking your present journey.
13. kindly] Mason: Here it means both affectionately and like the rest of her kind.
14. crab] Wright: Compare Lylj, £uphues, p. 120 (ed. Arber): *The sower Crabbe hath the shew of an Apple as well as the sweet Pippin.'
15. can] Collier suggests that con of the Qq (f . e, hnow) may be the right reading.
19. on's] See I, iv, 98.
21. of] Abbott, § 175: <0f,* signifying proximity of any kind, is sometimes used locally in the sense of on,
23. I did her wrong] Weiss (p. 281) ; The beautiful soul of Cordelia, that is little talked of by herself, and is but stingily set forth by circumstance, engrosses our feeling in scenes from whose threshold ^her filial piety is banished. We know what Lear is so pathetically remembering; the sisters tell us in their cruellest momeilts; it mingles with the midnight storm a sigh of the daughterhood that was repulsed. In the pining of the Fool we detect it. Through every wail or gust of this awful 8ym« phony of madness, ingratitude, and irony, we feel a woman's breath.
9 a
98 KING LEAR [ACTLsar.
Leavi No. ij
Fool. Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a
house. Lear. Why? Fool. Why, to put 's head in ; not to give it away to his
daughters, and leave his horns without a case. 30
Lear. I will forget my nature. So kind a father I— Be
my horses ready? Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why
the seven stars are no moe than seven is a pretty reason. Lear. Because they are not eight ? 35
Fool. Yes, indeed ; thou wouldst make a good Fool. Lear. To take 't again perforce I Monster ingratitude I Fool. If thou wert my Fool, nuncle, Tld have thee beaten
for being old before thy time. Lear. How's that? 40
Fool. Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst
been wise.
29. /M/V] Ff+, Jen. Wh. Cam. Sch. 35. eighif\ Cap. eight. QqFf -f , Jen* /M/ ill Qq et cet Sch.
to his\ vnto his Q.* 36. indeed] Om. Qq.
30. daughters] daughter Qq. 37. take V] take it Cap. Steev. Ec. Vtr.
31. father/] Rowe. father; Qq. Fa- Knt, Coll. Del.
^kerf FT, Sch. Monster] Monfter, Qq.
33. ^eni] them Qq, Jen. 38. thou wert] you wert F,. you wera
34. moe] F,. mo F^F^^Sch. more F,F^+. thou were Han. QqF^ et cet. ' 41. tiH] before Qq, Jen.
31. Be] Abbott, § 299: As & rale, it will be found that 'be' is used with some notion of doubt, question, thought, &c.; for instance, in questions [as here], and alter veiba of thinking.
34. seven stars] Both Delius and Wright refer, this phrase to the Pleiades, a constellation which assuredly b known by the name of The Seven Stars ; may it not^ however, refer to the Great Bear, whose seven stars are the most conspicuous group in the circle of perpetual apparition in the Northern Hemisphere ? — so conspicuous, indeed, that the Latin word for ' North ' was derived from them. We call this con- stellation < The Dipper,* from its fancied resemblance to the utensil of that name; a name, I believe, scarcely known in England. — Ed.
37. perforce] Johnson: He is meditating on his resumption of royalty. Steevens: Rather he is meditating on his daughter's having in so violent a manner deprived him of those privileges which before she had agreed to grant him. Deuus thinks that Johnson's interpretation is the more plausible, although < Monster ingratitude ' is more in the train of thought suggested by Steevens. Wright also agrees with Johnson's interpretation, as more in keeping with what Lear says in line 31 : * I will foiget my natoie.'
ACTI.SC.V.] KING LEAR 99
Lear. Oh, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven I Keep me in temper; I would not be mad! — \Enter Gentle-' manl\ How now 1 are the horses ready ? 45
Gent Ready, my lord.
Lear. Come, boy.
Fool. She that's a maid now and laughs at my departure Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.
[Exeunt.
43,44. OhJei„.madr\ Pope. Brose, 45. Now now r\ Om. Qq.
QqFf, Rowe, Wh. Ktly. 46. Gent.] Scruant. Qq.
43. not mad\ Om. Qq. 47. [ExiuQq. Exeunt Lear, and Gen- mad, sweet heaven /] mad. Sweet tieman. Cap.
heaven, Johns. 48. thafs « ] that is Qq, Mai. Steev.
heaven /] heauen ! I would not be Bos. Sing. Ktly. that is a Cap.
mad, Qq [bee Q,). 49. unless"} except Qq.
44. [Enter Gentleman.] Theob. Om. [Exeunt.] Exit. Qq. To the Au- QqFf. dience, as he goes out Cap.
43. Colerhxsb: The deepest tragic notes are often struck by a half sense of an Impending blow.
43. mad] BUCKNILL (p. 183) : This self-consciousness of gathering madness is common in various forms of the disease. ... A most remarkable instance of this was presented in the case of a patient, whose passionate, but generous, temper became morbidly exaggerated after a blow upon the head. His constantly expressed fear was that of impending madness ; and when the calamity he so much dreaded had actually arrived, and he raved incessantly and incoherently, one frequently heard the very words of Lear proceeding from his lips : < Oh, let me not be mad 1'
48, 49. EccLES : This concluding rhyme seems to intimate that the Fool expects to return soon, because of the ill treatment which he will probably receive where he is going. Steeveks : This idle couplet b apparently addressed to the females present at the perform.ance of the play ; and, not improbably, crept into the playhouse copy from the mouth of some buffoon actor, who * spoke more than was set down for him.' It should seem, from Shakespeare's speaking in this strong manner, that he suffered the injury he describes. Indecent jokes, which the applause of the groundlings might occasion to be repeated, would at last find their way into the prompters' books, /^c. I am aware that such liberties were exercised by the authors of Loerine, &c , but can such another offensive and extraneous address to the audience be pointed out among all the dramas of Shakespeare? Coleridge: The Fool's conclusion of this Act, by a grotesque prattling, seems to indicate the dislocation of feeling that has begun and is to be continued. C. A. Brown (p. 292) : There are three passages, foisted in by the players, and adopted by the printers, which ought to be for ever expunged from the text : The couplet at the end of Act I ; the whole of Merlin's prophecy, III, ii, 79-95, as the Fool should go out with Lear, and those brutal words : « And 1*11 go to bed at noon,' III, vi, 83, when the old king sinks into sleep. Such contradictions puzzled me for a long time, till looking among the Annotations, a profitable task once in a hundred times, I discovered that none of these three pas* saees are in the Qq, printed eight years before Shakespeare's death, but are intro-
XOO KING LEAR [Acrn.s&L
ACT II ScEMB L Jfu EaH of GloucesUf^s Castle.
Enter Edkotid oji^Cuxam, meeting,
Edm. Save thee, Curan.
CuK And you, sir. I have been with your &ther, and given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan, his duchess, will be here with him this night
Edm. How comes that? S
CuK Nay, I know not You have heard of the news abroad, I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments ?
Act n. Scens i.] Actus Secandus. i, 5, &c Edm.] Baft. QqFf.
Scena Prima Ff (Scsena FJ. Om. Qq. 9^ And..jngkt.'\ "Btoit^ Qq. Four
Act U. Scbnb u. Ec. lines, ending Hn.,.Motke,..J)ucheJfe.».
The...casUe.] A Castle belonging nigkt. Ff.
to the Earl of Gloster. Rowe. A Room 2. you] your F,.
in Gloster's Castle. Cap. A court within 3. Regtml Ool Qq.
the castle of the earl of Gloster. Mai. 4. this nigkt'[ to nighi Qq, Cap. StecT^
Enter.....meeting.] Enter Baft, and Ec Var. QolL Del. Sing. Ktly.
Curan meeting. Q,. Enter Baftard, and 7. theyl there Qq.
Curan meetes him. Q,. Enter Baftard, 8. ear-kissing] eare-huffing Qq, Coll.
and Curan, fererally. Ff. iii.
duced into the F,, printed seven years after it. This, together with their absurdity, makes it plain that they are not Shakespeare's. [The present passage is not omitted in the Qq.] Singer : She who thinks that this journey we are now starting on will better us, and bring us mirth, is such a simpleton that, if she is a maid now, she will be cheated before long of her claim to that title. White : Steevens*s opinion that this is an interpolation appears to be well founded. The indecency is entirely gra- tuitous; it is ' dragged in by the head and shoulders/ which is not in Shakespeare*s manner. The jest, if we must call it such, is of the most miserable sort, and one which Sh. would hardly suffer in the mouth of this, the most thoughtful and subtly whimsical of all hb thoughtful and subtle Fools. [See also note on the Merlin prophecy. III, ii, 81.] Ellis (p. 200) refers to lists of words given by Cooper^ 1685, shewing that Cooper pronounced the final ^ture in lecture^ nature, picture, scripture, &c as -terf the present rhyme shows that * departure ' was so pronounced in Shakespeare's day. Whttb (toI. xii, p. 437) says that -ure final was generally, if not universally, pronounced ^er among even the most polite -and literate of our Eliza- bethan ancestors. Elus, after quoting this observation by White, says (p. 973), that thb usage was not general or confirmed till the XVIIth century. [For the rhyme, see also II, iii, 20.]
8. ear-ldasing] Stbevsns : That is, they are yet in reality only whispered ones. Collixe (ed. iL) suggests that ft play is probable upon htssing of the Qq and bu9»
ACT n, sc. L]
KING LEAR
lOI
Edm. Not I. Pray you, what are they ?
Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 'twixt 10 the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany ?
Edm. Not a word.
Cur. You may do then in time. Fare you well, sir.
\ExU.
Edm. The duke be here to-night ? The better I best I This weaves itself perforce into my business. 15
My father hath set guard to take my brother; And I have one thing, of a queasy question, Which I must aft Briefness and fortune, work I— Brother, a word ; descend I Brother, I say 1
Enter Edgar.
My father watches ! O sir, fly this place I Intelligence is given where you are hid ! You have now the good advantage of the night Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall ? He's coming hither, now, i' th' night, i* th* haste,
20
9. Not J. Fray] Not, I pray Qq. 10-12. Cur. Have,.,word,'\ Om. Q,.
10. Havi.,.toward^ Separate line, Ff, Rowe.
tovoard] towards Q,.
11. tki\ thi two Q,, Jen.
13. Two lines, Ff.
do] Om. Qq, Jen. Steev. Ec Var. Dycei.
[Exit.] Om. Q,.
14. ScENB II. Pope, Han. Warb. 14-97. Verse, Ff. Prose, Qq.
14. better! best/] Pope, better beft^ QqFf. better^ best, Rowe, Ktly.
17. queasy] quefie Qq. pteazie F.F^. qtuazy F,F^.
18. Whieh»,v)ork] Whieh mujl a/ke breefnes and fortune helpe Qq [breefe^ neJeCl).
19. Enter Edgar.] To him, enter Edgar. Pope. After wAicA, line 18, in Q,. In margin opposite itself in line 15 in Q, ; after line 18, in Ff, Rowe, Pope.
ao. sir] Om. Qq.
22. Youhave] KwV^Pope+,Dyceii.
23. ^gainsf] gainft Q,. againfl Q^ Cornwall f] Cornwall ought, Qq.
Cornwall aught Jen.
24. hither] hether Qq.
t* M' night] in the night Qq. f.M' haste] haste Pope, in haste Han.
10. toward] At hand. See III, iii, 17; IV, vi, 209; Ham, I, i, 77; V, ii, 352.
17. queasy] Steevens: Delicate, unsettled, requiring to be handled nicely. [Steevens called attention to the use of this word in The Paston Letters, where it is spelled *qweysye* (iii, 98, ed. Gairdner), and Wright to another passage where it is spelled ■ ccysy ' (i, 497, ib.). In both instances it is applied to ' the world ' in the sense of unsettled, troublous.] Knight : Ttchlish perhaps gives the meaning more dearly.
24. th' haste] For instances of the use of the definite article in adverbial phrases, •ee Abbott, §91.
9*
I02 KING LEAR [act n. sc. L
And Regan with him ; have you nothing said 2$
Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany? Advise yourself.
Edg. I am sure on't, not a word.
Edm. I hear my &ther coming ! Pardon me ; In cunning I must draw my sword upon you. Draw ; seem to defend yourself; now quit you well. 30
Yield ! come before my father ! — Light, ho, here ! — Fly, brother ! — ^Torches, torches I \ExU Edgar.'] — ^So farewell. Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion Of my more fierce endeavour. I have seen drunkards
96. V^^O ^^go*nfi 0^- 31- ^f] *^9 Ff+ff Knt JUrt, Q^
37. yourself^l /Wir— Qq. kten^ Q,.
Iam\ Pm Popc+ , Jen. Dyce iu 32. h^otAir] hrotkirjlii Qq.
lA^Ti^, m*: In€mming\wuincrau' Torchts^ t»rckis\ Toreka F,F,
30. Drawfl Om. Qq. [Exit Edgar.] Om. Qq. I>raw,.,weil.'\ Cap. Two lines, 33. [Wounds his ann. Rowe.
the first ending ymr seife, Ti + , Jen. 34. / have] Pvi Pope + , Dyce ii.
fwi] *quii Wh.
96. Upon his party] Delixts was the first to interpret rightly these two qne^ tiotts of Edmund's. In order to confuse his brother and urge him to a more speedy flight, by giving him the idea that he is surrounded by perils, Edmund asks Edgar first, whether he has not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall, and then, reversing the question, asks whether he has not said something on the side of Cornwall 'gainst the Duke of Albany. Schmidt gives seven instances, besides the present, where * upon the ptity' means 'upon the side of.' Before Delius, Hammer's interpretation ob- tained, by which line 26 was regarded as only another way of putting the same question as that in line 23 ; thus : Have you said nothing upon the party formed 1^'him against the Duke of Albany ? Capell added that we must supply the word < reflecting' before ' upon.' The passage so puzzled Johnson that he believed it to be corrupt, and proposed the reading : Againsi his party, /^ the Duke of Albany ? Eocles noted how Edmund grasped at every motive, however trivial or insignificant, that would enforce Edgar's departure. Moberly gives an ingenious interpretation of this second question of Edmund's : the war being only * toward,* and having not yet broken out, ' Albany would be in a position to demand the punishment of any one who spoke against him, and Cornwall not unlikely to concede it, as Elizabeth might have done, if his warlike preparations were not sufficiently advanced to make it safe to throw down the gauntlet.'
27. Advise] Steevens: Consider, recollect yourself. Wright: See i Ckron. Rxi, 12: *Now, therefore, advise thyself what word I shall bring again to him that sent me.*
31. Yield . . . father] Delius : Edmund speaks these words loud so as to bs lieard outside.
ACTii,sci.j KING LEAR IO3
Do more than this in sport — ^Father, father ! — 35
Stop, stop ! — No help ?
Enter GLOUCESTER, and Servants wUh torches,
Glou. Now, Edmund, where's the villain ?
Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out. Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon To stand auspicious mistress.
Glou. But where is he ? 40
Edm. Look, sir, I bleed I
Glou. Where is the villain, Edmund ?
Edm. Fled this way, sir, when by no means he could —
Glou. Pursue him, ho! Go after. — 'By no means' what?
Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your lordship;
35. Faiker^ fatker'\ Why, father, Glo. Mob. Sch.
father Cap. Father, father, father 41. villain^ Edmund} tdUaine Ed«
Ktly. mond Q,.
36. and...torches.] Om. Qq. 42. sir, when] QqFf +, Jen. sir.
37. Scene III. Pope, Han.Warb. Jen. When Cap. et cet
wheri^s] where is Q,. ctmld-^] eould, F,, amU F,.
39. Mumbliftg] warbling Qq. 43. ho\ Om. Qq.
40. stand\ fland*s Q,, Theob. Warb. afier.-^'By] after. By Ff. after, Johns. Cam. Wr. fiand his Q,F F^, by Qq.
Rowe, Pope, Cap. Jen. Steev. Ec. Var. [Exeunt some Servants. Dyce.
Knt, Sing. Ktly. Exit Servant. Cap.
mistress,'] mistress .•— Cap. Steev. 44. to the] to F,F^. Ec. Var. Knt, Sing, mistress, — Dyce,
35. sport] Steevens: So in Marston*s Dutch Courtesan (iv, i) : * — if I have not as religiously vowd my hart to you, — ^been drunke to your health, swalowd flap- dragons, eate glasses, drunke urine, stabd armes, and don all the offices of protested gallantrie for your sake.' Halliwell, in his note on this passage in Marston, gives other instances of this same practice from Greene's Tu Quopse and Dekkar's Honest Whore. As Collier says, many passages might be produced to show that young gallants sometimes stabbed their arms in order to be able to drink the healths of their mbtresses in blood.
39. Mumbling of] Abbott, § 178: We should be inclined to treat the verbal as a present participle, because there is no preposition before it : < tf-mumbling of.' The verbal here means * in the act of.' See Ham. I, v, 175, and II, i, 92.
39. charms] Warburton: This was a proper circumstance to urge to Glou- cester, who appears by a previous scene to be superstitious with regard to this matter.
43. this way] Capell: A wrong way should be pointed to.
f04 f^^G LEAR [Acrn.aaL
But that I told him the revenging gods 4 j
'Gainst parricides did all the thunder bend.
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond
Tlie child was bound to th' &ther; sir, in fine.
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion 50
With his prepared sword he charges home
My unprovided body, lanced mine arm ;
But whe'r he saw my best alarum'd spirits
45- «w«Vwv] rnungme Qq, 52. /siKi0<]11ieob. UmeMti^ knmeki
46. ihi Sunder] ¥f-¥, Knt, Dd. Wh. Q^ Rowe. IdtcA'd FT. iatmcJ^d^ope^ Sch. M/^iiMf^^ Johns. Heath. iAnr HuklCnt. ImuJM Sch.
ihmden Qq et cet mUul jwf Theob. Wurb. Johns.
47. mamifold] mati^fimJaQq. 53. i9MrwVr]Sta.oonj. B^U whether ^taOfitdth' F,Fg. toihY^ i0 GoU; ii (MS). And when Ff-f , Knt,
AUQq. Sch. ^MTwjUfiQqetcet
6f/m]te0/«irQq. tfibnMi'O o/^ffWMU^Qq. olarwed
Sa 6f] with Qq. F^. alarmed Rowe-I-.
45. that] This, titer * When/ in line 41, completes the conjunction * When that.' See Clauendoii'8 note on Ham. IV, tU, i6a
45. levenging] Wright: With the Qq readings compare * responsiTC,' eqviiN alent to comspomditig^ in Ham. V9 ii, 146.
46. the] Dtcb calls this reading of the Ff *a yile readUng.* [*Allthethnndec' •ppeaxs lb be a ttronger and more comprehensire expression thaathe thunder of the revenging gods alone.-!-ED.]
5a motion] Schmidt {Lex,) : An attack In fendng opposed to gnard, or parry* Ing. See7kv/.A:in,hr,504;u62iM.IV,Tii,iO2andi58. [See Vincentio Sayiolo» his PraeHset I59S< 'hold your dagger finn^marking (as it were) with one eye the modon of yonr aduenarie,' — sig. **hi, p.. i, line 4. — Ed.]
52. laneed] Khight prefeis iaunth, and cites instances from Spenser, Fatry Qtuen, i, 4, and Dxyden, Georgia, iii. Undoubtedly iatmch would be preferahle if there were any difference in signification between it and lance, and if dsewhere Isaac Jaggard and the printers of the Qq had not nsed the words indiffer^tly. Wright: Compare HoUyband {Fr. Diet. 1593) : 'Poindre, to pricke, to sticke» to lanch.' Schmidt pronounces * latch'd ' a misprint
53. whe'r] This suggestion of Staunton's of « whe'r' (£. e. whether) for when lof the QqFf seems to me an emendatio ceriissima.. It restores the construction^ whidi with when is irregular, and to be explained only on the ground of Edmund's per^ tmbadon. For many illustrations of the monosyllabic pronunciation of whether, fiom Chaucer downwards, see Walker, Vert. 103, or Abbott, $ 466, or JIfaeh. I, fii, lu, or Ham. II, ii, 17; III, ii, 193. Schmidt prefers And. when of the Ff, because *bttt' of the Qq would indicate that the result of the scene was something meiqpected.
53. beat alanxm'd spirits] Deuus interprets this: 'my best spirits alarum'd*; but Schmidt says that * best' is nsed adverbially, and here means mi the best wa^.
ACT II, sc i.] KING LEAR IO5
Bold in the quarrel's right, roused to th' encounter.
Or whether gasted by the noise I made, 55
Full suddenly he fled
Glau. Let him fly far ;
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught; And found— dispatch. The noble duke my master,
54. quarrtVi righi\ quarreb^ rights dispatch — Pope, Theob. uncaught f Qj, And for dispatch l^n, uncaught; And
55. gasted"] ^gastedCap. *ghastcd JttL found.^Dispatch, Johns, uncaught; ghosted YsX^ Del. Sclu And^ founds dispatched. Cap. Coll. iii.
56. FuU'] but Qq, Cap. uncaught; And found-^Di^tch — Jen. 58,59.«»rtfM^^/...— </i>/a/(r^]Steev. uncaught^ And found^^ispatch Sing.
uncaught and found; dif patchy QqFf Ktly, Sch. (/&MA</,Q,),Rowe. uncaught and found;
55. gasted] Wright : Frightened. Steevens quotes from Bean, and FL Wit at Severat Weapons, II, iii, but the word there in the original copies is < gaster'd * : * Either the sight of the Lady has gaster'd him, or else he*s drunk.* This is still an Essex word. * Cast ' as a participle occurs in Cursor Mundi (MS Trin. Coll. Cam- bridge, fol. 31, quoted in Halliweirs Diet,), p. 291 (E. E. Text Soc, ed. Morris) : ' His wille was but to make hem gast.' The other three printed texts of the poem have * agast/ * agaste/ and * a-gast.' Sh. uses * gastness • in Uie sense of terror-stricken look in 0th, V, i, 106: 'Do you perceive the gastness of her eye?' And Spenser has * gastfull ' in the sense of * awful ' in Shepherd^ s Calendar, August, 170 : « Here will I dweU apart In gastfull grove therefore/ Both these last-mentioned words appear to have been used as if they were etymologically connected with ' ghost.' For thb derivation there is no foundation. Cotgrave gives, ' Espoventable : com. Dreadfull, frightfull, fearefull; horrible, gastfull, horride.' The form 'gaster' is found in Harsnet's Declaration of Popish Imposture (1603), p. 73 : * Did euer the God- gastring Giants, whom lupiter overwhelmed with Pelion and Ossa, so complaine of theyr loade ?' Mr Skeat has pointed out to me an excellent example- of ' gast ' in The Vision of Piers Plowman, Text A, Passus vii, 1, 129: -Bohe to sowen and to setten * and saued his til)>e. Caste Crowen from his Com ' and kepen his Beestes.'
58. dispatch] Warburton: This nonsense should be read and pointed thus: ' And found, dispatch'd.' — / . e, as soon as he is found he shall be dispatch'd or executed. Johnson : The sense is interrupted. He shall be caught— and found, he shall be punished. Despatch. Singer {N, 6* Qu, ist Scr. vol. vi, p. 6, 1852) : The context plainly shows that we should read, preserving the punctuation of the Folio: «Wf found; dispatch.* [This conjecture Singer afterwards withdrew in his Text ofSh, Vindicated, &c., p. 270.] A. E. B[rae] [N. &• Qu. 1st Ser. vol. vi, p. 82, 1852) : 'There is an expressive pause after * found,' as though the punishment consequent upon Edgar's capture were too terrible and indeterminate for inomediate utterance. ' Dispatch ' is addressed to Edmund, and simply means, * Get on with your story,' which in fact he does at the conclusion of Gloucester's speech. CoLUER (ed. ii.) : * Despatch'd ' is the correction in the (MS), and the context, where Glou* cester adds that ' the murderous coward ' shall be brought * to the stake,' entirely confirms it Staunton : The old text [that js, as Staunton gives it : ' And found—
I06 KING LEAR [act li, sc i.
My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night ;
By his autihority I will proclaim it; 6o
That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks.
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake ;
He that conceals him, death.
Edm. When I dissuaded him firom his intent And found him pight to do it with curst speech, 65
I threatened to discover him ; he replied : ' Thou unpossessing bastard I dost Aou think. If I would stand against thee, would the reposal Of any trust, virtue, or worth, in thee
Make thy words £uth'd 7 No ; what I should deny, — 70
As this I would ; ay, though thou didst produce My very character, — ^I'ld turn it all
59. woriky\ worik T^ 68^7a w^mUtki repcmUMMl ^
arch €uufpairom\ Mtd arek^pairom nptioL^ Womid mtaJte Hul
Tbebb. Han. 7a mkai IsMcmUl wkiUjkmiUITL
61. wkkX\ flBub Tbeob. ii, Waibu fy wJUt I tkamU Rowe, Pope, wkai
Jobni. rdUxtu mbif /jiMcAr Waib. Jolmt.
ti. ttmard'i cf^fi Q^ €^Jfi Q^ wkat^sM^mU ISdti.
An^ Jen. Canu Wr. 71. «^, tkatifk'l Itkmigk Qq. Amigfk
68. would the repatat\ could iko ro- 71 Mkough Rove ii-f •
pojurt Qq, Cap. Jen. Cam. Wr. 72. /*//] PU F^. fPMdVHan. Cap.
dispatch T] is right Thus in Bburi^ Master ComttaUtt v, i: «There to find Fond* ndles found, to kill him.' Dtcb : I cannot see that Stannton's qnotatioo mppoiti the old reading.
59. arch] Stkcvsns : ChieC So in Htfwoo6^s ^ j^om Xmow not Mf jwm JTmow Nobody (p. 48, ed. Sh. Soc): *Po61e, that arch, for truth and honesty.' Wright dtes Steevens's quotation, and adds, 'but it b not a good instance of the word.' Whitb : That is, chief; — to Odd Fellows and BCasons a superfluous explanation.
65. pight . . • curst] Johnson: <Kght' is pitched^ fixed, settled. «Curst' is severe, harsh, vehemently angry. Mobsrly : * Fight ' comes firom pUckedt as dight comes from deck, or right from reach.
67. iinpo88e88ing] Mobk&ly : Incapable of inheriting. < For,' says Bladcstone, « [a bastard] is looked upon as " nullius filius," and therefore of Idn to nobody, and he has no ancestor firom whom any inheritable blood can be derived.' Coleridge : Thus the secret poison of Edmund's own heart steals forth ; and then observe poor Gloucester's ' Loyal and natural boy 1' as if praising the crime of Edmund's birth.
6S. I would] For instances where ' would ' is not used for should, see Abbott, $ 331.
68, 69. reposal • . . thee] Delius says that < virtue or worth in thee' does not, like ' trust/ depend on * reposal,' but is co-ordinate with it, and at^ is to be under- •tood before it ; or, as Wright states it, * the reposure of any trust, (or the belief in any) virtue or worth, in thee.'
70. faith'd] That is, believed. See I, i» 903. 72. character] See I, ii, 59.
ACT II, sc. L] KING LEAR IQTJ
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned pra6lice ; 73
And thou must make a dullard of the world, If they not thought the profits of my death 75
Were very pregnant and potential spurs
73. pra^ice] pr<Ulifi F,F,. pretence 76. spun\ fpurret Qq. Jpiriis Ff,
Qq. Rowe, Del. i, Sch.
73. suggestion] Nares : Temptation, seduction. Hunter (Note on Maeb, I, >ii» 134) : ' Suggestion ' is a theological word, one of the three ' procurators or tempters ' of sin. Delight and Consent being the others.
73. practice] Collier (ed. ii.) : The accent seems to show that pretence of the Qq is not the right word, unless we read ' damrid pretence.' Wright : * Practice ' is more in keeping with ' plot ' and * suggestion.'
75. not thought] For instances of the omission of the auxiliary in negative sen* tences, or for the transposition of the n^^ative, see Abbott, § 305.
75. death] Moberly : This skilful suggestion, that Edmund should be put into Edgar's place, b acted upon at once by Gloucester; yet it is so indirect that Glou- cester imagines the thought to have come from himself. Lord Bacon, in hb essay on Cunnings speaks of the trick of ' turning cat in pan ;' that b, making a suggestion in such a way that the hearer supposes it to be his own. Thb may be done either coarsely — < as you said, and wisely was it said,' was Polonius's way of impressing hb own thoughts on the king— or, in a more skilful way, as here.'
76. pregnant] In Meas, for Meets. I, i, 12, Johnson first defined thb word by 'ready,' and this definition has been adopted as its general meaning in Sh. down to the present day; certainly it b generally thus interpreted in. the present passage. Wright goes so far as to say that it < b used by Sh., without any reference to its literal meaning, in the sense of " ready ;" ' he afterwards defines it as ' manifest, obvious,' in certain passages which he cites. Schmidt gives no intimation that it b used in its * literal meaning;' the fourteen instances of its use that he cites he divides under three heads: ist, expert, clever, ingenious, artful; 2d, disposed, ready, prompt (under thb head the present passage b cited) ; 3d, probable in the highest degree, clear, evident Now, on the other hand, I cannot but think that Nares came nearer the truth when he said that the ruling sense of this word b that of < being fuU or pro* ductive of something.' Out of Schmidt's fourteen instances eleven appear to me to come under Nares's definition. Three instances {Lear IV, vi, 222; Wint, Tale, V, ^U 34; tind Ant, and Cleop, II, i, 45) are used in so metaphorical a sense that one may give to them almost any meaning that hb mother wit suggests as applicable to the passage. My interpretation of the * pregnant hinges of the knee ' in J/am. Ill, ii, 56, b there recorded ; the present passage seems to me exactly parallel, and may be paraphrased thus: *So great are the profits of my death that the spurs to make thee seek it are most powerful, and teem with incitements thereto.' Schnhdt in his edition repeats his definitions of * pregnant,' and doubts if, thus defined, Sh. ever could have applied it to * spurs,' and, while faithful to the Folio, confesses that spirits form but a poor predicate to ' profits,' yet in the sense of evil spirits that it b at least as probable a reading as * spurs.' In my opinion the reading of the Folio b a mb« print for < spurs ' of the Quarto. ' Pregnant ' b quite as approprbte to * spurs ' as to < hinges.'— Ed.
I08 KING LEAR [act II. s& L
To make thee seek it'
GUm. O strange and fitsten'd villain 1 77
Would he deny his letter? * I never got hint*
\TucketwUhm. Hark, the duke's trumpets 1 I know not why he comes. All ports ril bar; the villain shall not 'scape; 80
The duke must grant me that Besides, his piCfaire I will send far and near, that all the kingdom May have due note of him ; and of my land. Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means To make thee capable. 85
77. 0«/!niiN^tfii^/M/mV]Ff,Rowe, itfri/Ruu Sch. taidhef IneoirgU Knt, DeL i, Sch. Sirot^ amd fajhud kirn. Gqi. Knt
Q,. Strong MtdfyfiitudQ^ OUrange^ 78. [Ttacket within.] Ff(alteri«fii/,
fasterid Pope+, Ec Stramge, and line 77). After ot^Kstiv C^>. After JImb
fastened Cap. (MS).* 0 strong and MaL Om.Qq. Trumpets within. Rowe*
fastened Dyce i, Ktly. Strong and Trumpets without Sta.
fastened Cap. et ceL 79. wky\ vfker F^ when l^JPJP^
MfiUam] ViHaine F^ whir* KnL
78. / never got him,'\ laid kef FT, 83. dne"] Om. Qq. Rowe, Pope, Theob. Sch. taut Met 85. [Flourish. Qip.
77* strange] As Schmidt says, Sh. uses this sometimes in the sense of enormous, unheard ofr *tlus most foul, strange and unnatural [murder]' — ffam. I, t, 28; * All strange and terrible events are welcome *^^Ant, emd Qeop. IV, xr, 3.
78. This line in the Ff is manifestly imperfect ; I hare followed the minority of editors in adopting a sentence from the Qq which seems in keeping with Glou« tester's agitation. — Ed.
78. Tucket] Na&es: A particular set of notes on the trumpet, tised as a signal for a march. From toccata^ which Florio defines : « A praeludium that cunning mu- sitions use to play, as it were, volnntaiy before any set lesson.'
81. picture] Lord Campbell: One would suppose that photography, by which this mode of catching criminals is n6w practised, had been invented in the reign of King Lear. [We have merely called in photography to our aid in continuing a practice common in Shakespeare's time, as this present passage shows, and of which we have a corroboration in the old play of Nobody and Somebody^ 1606 (Privately reprinted by Mr Alexander Smith of Glasgow, 1877) : * Let him be straight im- printed to the life ; His (ncture shaU be set on euery stall. And proclamation made, that he that takes him, Shall haue a hundred pounds of Somebody.* Sig. D^. For this reference I am indebted to the Preface of the Reprint. — Ed.]
84. natural] Hudson : This word is here used with great art, in the double sense of iUegUimate and as opposed to unnaturalt which latter epithet is implied upon Edgar.
85. capable] Lord Campbell: In forensic discussions respecting Intimacy, the question is put, whether the individual whose status is to be determined is * capable,' L e. capable of inheriting ; but it is only a lawyer who would express the idea of legiti* mising a natural son by simply saying, < I'll work the means To make him capable.'
1CTXI.S&L] KING LEAR IO9
EnUr Co&NWALL, Regan, and Attendants.
Com. How now, my noble friend I since I came hither, 86 Which I can call but now, I have heard strangt news.
Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too short Which can pursue the ofTender. How dost, my lord?
GUm. Oh, madam, my old heart is crack'd, — ^it's crack'd I 90
Reg. What, did my Other's godson seek your life? He whom my father named? your Edgar?
Glou. Oh, lady, lady, shame would have it hid I
86. Scene nr. Pope+, Jen. 9a ft^'j] U Q(i» Cap. Steev. Ec. Var, Enter...] Enter the Duke of Com- Cam. Wr.
walLQq. 92. named f your Edgar f\ nam^d^
87. strange news\ ftrange newes Qq. your Edgar ? Ff. named your Edgar ? JirangeneJfeT^^ ftrangenefsYf^. Qq. nam^d^ your Edgar f He f ^zxu
9&. too shorti tojhort Fj. nam^dt your heir, your Edgar f CoU.
89. dosti does F^F^F^+j Cap. Jen. Ec. iii (MS).
ehesi Sch. 93. OX] I Qq. Ay Anon.*
90. Oh'] Om. Qq.
89. dost] The fact that Regan at no other time addresses Gloucester in the second person makes me think that we should here read : ' How does my lord? ' For the omission of the nominative after ' dost,' see Abbott, §§ 241, 399, 400.— Ed.
91. Coleridge : Compare Regan's < did my father's godson seek your life ? He whom my father named?' with the nnfeminine violence of her 'All Yengeance comes too short/ &c., and yet no reference to the guilt, but only to the accident, which she uses as an occasion for sneering at her father. Regan is not, in fact, a greater monster than Goneril, but she has the power of casting more venom.
92. This line Abbott, S478, scans in two ways: First, by pronouncing the last syllable in it * with a kind of " burr," which produced the effect of an additional syllable;' and as he cites ' sirrah' as an instance of this ' burr,' the best way, prob- ably, of conveying his idea in spelling would be * Ed-garrah.' Or, secondly, Abbott queries whether it might not be scanned. by pronouncing 'your' dissoluti,thv&i *na|med? you|r Edgar?' Of these two methods, the latter seems preferable. Walker (Crit, ii, 145) suggests, in his chapter on the omission of repeated words, that Gloucester says : ' O I O lady,' and that the first < O ! ' which closed this line had been omitted. Lettsom, in a foot-note, queries '"your Edgar, Glostert* Gloster may have been left out at the end of the line in consequence of do, occurring at the beginning of the next' For Collier's (MS) emendation, see Textual Notes; MOBBRLY, referring to this emendation, says : ' Probably the intense tone of astonish* ment would give a prolonging accentuation to several of the syllables as the line stands, and make it in reality long enough without the addition. If the readings however, was invented, its inventor had a good notion of the way in which conso* nants fall out of the body of a word. There would be the same kind of identity between 'heir' and ' Edgar' as between 'Audrey' and ' Ethelreda,' 'Maude' and ' Matilda; ' and his theory would be that, from the similarity of the two words, one had got dropped.'
10
no KING LEAR [Acrxi.ScL
Reg, Was he not companion with the riotous knights That tend upon my father ? 95
Ghu. I know not, madam. — ^'Tis too bad, too bad.
Edm. Yes, madam, he was of that consort
Reg. No marvel then, though he were ill aflfe^led; Tis they have put him on the old man's death. To have th' expense and waste of his revenues. 100
I have this present evening from my sister Been well informed of them, and with such cautions That if they come to sojourn at my house^ I'll not be there.
Cam. Nor I, assure thee, Regan.—
94. nc(\ Om. Coll. (MS). 97. of that comori\ Om. Qq, Cap.
95. tend upon\ Theob. tendt vpoH Steer. '93, Bos. cmg of that tomort Qq. tended upon Ff, Rowe, P6pe, Knt, Dyce conj.
Xtly. tended on Han. 100. tie expense and waste ofAis'} tJU
95-^7. 7*Aa/...teMii] Two lines, ending waft and fpoyle of his Q,, Jen. BiaL
madam,..was9 and omitting of that eom* Steev. Bos. Sta. Cam. Wr. tAefe and
sort. Cap. Steev. '93, Bos. wqfte of this his Q^ th* expenee and
S6, 'Tis too 5ad, too bad,'\ Separate wa^ of F,F,F^.
line, Steer. '85, Mai. Ec. X03, 104. That..Jhere,'] One line, Qq.
'T&r] it is Cap. Steev. '85, '93, 104-106. Nor...office.1 Prose, Qq.
Var. Ec. 104. tf£nifv]/axf»fv Theob. ii,Waibb
97. madam] madam, yes CoU. ii (MS). Johns.
95. tend] Abbott, §472, gives this word, in the Ff, as an instance of the fact that -#</, when foUowing ^ or /, is often not written, and, even when written, is oftea not pronounced.
97. madam] Walker ( Vers. 173) : This is usually a monosyUable.
97. consort] Dyce {Gloss,) : A fellowship, a fraternity. See Abbott, $ 490, for a list of words in Sh. where the accent is nearer the end than with ns. [As this word thus accented meant also a company of musicians (see J^ont, 6* yui. III, i, 41, where Mercutio conceives himself insulted by being classed among minstrels), it » probably here used as a strongly contemptuous term. — Ed.]
98. were] Abbott, § 301 : The meaning is : ' It is no wonder, then, that he was a traitor,' and no doubt or future meaning is implied.
99. 'Tis they] Clarke: Regan seeks to associate the accused man, Edgar, with the knights of her father's train, upon whom she is determined to fasten blame as an excuse for her refusal to receive and entertain them.
99. put him on] See I, iv, 200.
100. expense and waste] Malonb supposed that these of Q, was a misprint for the use. Wright thinks that the reading of the Ff is apparently a conjectural emen* dation of the reading of the incorrect Qq. [It seems probable that the dash in Qi indicates the haste and carelessness with which these editions were printed. Either the stenographer misheard the wori and put a dash, which he afterwards hoped to fill np, but did not, and the compositor repeated it in type, or th^ com*
ACTii.sci.] KING LEAR III
Edmund, I hear that you have shown your &ther 105
A chfld-like office.
Edm. Twas my duty, sir.
Glou. He did bewray his praftice, an^received This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
Cam. Is he pursued ?
GUm. Ay, my good lord.
Com. If he be taken, he shall never more 1 10
Be feared of doing harm. Make your own purpose. How in my strength you please. — ^For you, Edmimd, Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant So much commend itself, you shall be ours. Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; 115
You we first seize on.
Edm. I shall serve you, sir,
Truly, however else.
Glau. For him I thank your grace.
105. hiar\ heard Qq. Heath, Jen.
106. ' 7%n»] 7%0ax (^. It was T^^^ 114. commend'] commendi Waib. Knt. // is FjF^, Rowe. It's Pope, Johns.
Han. *^^yi themsehes Ec. conj.
107. bertfray] defray Qq, 115, 116. need; You wej tteed ypm, 109. lord] lord, he is Han. we Q,. need, you we Q^.
1 10-116. /f Ae..jeiu on.] Prose, Qq. 116, 117. I shalL.^else,] Ashy Pope.
112. For] as for F,FjF^+, Jen. One line, QqFf. Edmund] good Edmund Kdy. 1 16. sir] Om. Qq, Jen.
113. doth this instanf] in this instance. X17. Truly] At end of Ii6, Jen. Sta. Warb. Johns, doth, in this instance For him] Om. Pope+.
positor was t>affled by the text of his copy, and left a dash to be filled up by the proof-reader, which was not done. See Appendix, p. 362.]
107. bewray] Wright: From A. S. wrlgan, or wreian, to accuse. See Matthew, xxvi, 73: 'thy speech bewrayeth thee!' * Bewray' and 'betray' are used almost interchangeably, but in the former there is no notion of treachery inherent.
107. practice] Steevens: Always nsed by Sh. for insidious mischief. See line 73.
III. fear'd of] For a long list of instances where ^means ' concerning,' ' about,* see Abbott, $ 174, or Ham. II, ii, 27.
X 12. For you] Abbott, $ 483, for the sake of metre prolongs ' you ' into a dis- syllable.
113. virtue • . . doth] Capell: 'Virtue and obedience' is put figuratively for virtuous ohedience; and hence it is that 'itself is predicated of it, and 'doth' fol- lows it; and did at follow 'doth,' the next expression were neater, but it may do withouL [For instances of a verb in% the singular after two nominatives, see Nam* III, iiy I57f And Sh. ^sim,]
I" KING LEAR [Acrii.8C.I
Com. You IcQOW not why we came to visit you ? 1 18
Reg. Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed £ght;
Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, 120
Wherein we must have use of your advice.
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister.
Of differences, which I best thought it fit
118. cami\ fmi Ctp. conj. Rowe, Pope, Theob. Htn. Jobns. Ec you /] QqF,F^ Sch. you. F^F^, Sch. price Johns, conj. Cap.
Coll. i, Del. Wh. you (continning the 12 1. advice^ advice — Rowe, Pope,
next line to * Com.'), Rowe it, Pope, Han. adui/e, Q,. aduicet Q^ advices •• Cap.
Ktly. >^Mi— or^'Mf,— Roweietoet. 12^. differences\ diferences Q^. de*
119. threadinglthnddingVL threat' fences Ci^
««VQq- bes^UJIQ^, least Cam. Vfr.
uighi/l night, QqFf. nighif thought it] thwgh it F^. thourhi
Rowe, Pope, night i Sch. Sch.
120. poise] poyfe Q,. priu Q,Ff,
119. Regan] Jennsns: R^[an may be here supposed officiously to complete Comwairs sentence. Hudson : Regan's snatching the speech out of her husband's mouth is rightly in character. These two strong-minded ladies think nobody elso can do anything so well as they. [Although Regan does certainly take up and con* tinue her husband's speech, yet it should be remembered that the comma and dash at the end of Cornwall's speech, line 118, are due only to Rowc^Ed.]
119. threading] Theobald: I have great suspicion that it should be treading^ L e, trayelling. The text as it stands carries too obscure and mean an allusion. It must either be borrowed from the cant phrase of threading of alleys, s*. e. gomg through by-passages; or to threading a needle in the darh. Heath: That is, slipping through the night, as if afraid of being discovered. Steevsns : The same phrase is used in Cor, III, i, 124. Weight: Compare for the figure of speech* JCing ybhntW/vtt II.
120. poise] M alone: Weight or moment. Henley: Sh. having elsewhere nsed to peiu for to balance or weigh, and the letter r in his own autograph being made more like an e, 1 conclude that peiu was the original word, and signified deliberation, Schmidt upholds the FC to whose reading he gives the meaning : * ot some account; ' thus, in Cym. Ill, vi, 77, Imogen, when wishing that Guiderius and Arviragus had been her brothers, says, ' then had my prize Been less, and so more equal ballasting To thee, Posthumus ;' and in Ant, 6* Cleop. V, ii, 183, Csesar says to Cleopatra : ' Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you Of things that merchants sold.' [I should agree with Schmidt in preferring the Folio, did not Sh. elsewhere use ' poise ' in phrases similar to the present. Even on Schmidt's own theory, in which I agree with him, that the Qq are surreptitious copies taken down from stage- representation, it is likely that * poise ' was Shakespeare's own word when the play was first acted ; it is a less likely word to occur to an actor than/rtsr.— Ed.]
121. advice] Keigktley : There is evidently a line lost after this. We might lead : * Have been the cause of (his our sudden visit*
123. which] Delujs : This does not refer to * difierences,' but to * writ*
123. thought it fit] Schmidt thinks that the misprint of the Folio is more likelf
ACT n, 8C. fi.] KING LEAR 1 13
To answer from our home ; fhe several messengers
From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, 125
Lay comforts to your bosom and bestow
Your needful counsel to our businesses.
Which craves the instant use.
Glou. I serve you, madam.—*
Your graces are right welcome. {Flourish. Exeuftt. 129
ScENB II. Be/ore GloucesUr^s castU.
Enter Kent and Oswald, setftralfy,
Osw. Good dawning to thee, friend; art of this house ? KiTU. Ay.
124. Acme] hand Q^ FJ. ScsNB Y. Pope+, Jen. The Scene
126-128. Lay,,Jise,'\ Tvro lines, the continued by Rowei-llieob. Scbnbiil
lint ending eanmeii, Qq. Ec
127. busmnsisl Ff -f, Ec. Knt, DeL Before...] Before the Castle. Cajv Pyce i, Sch. busineffi Qq et cet Bnter......] C61L Enter Kent, and
128. aravis\ crave Rowe+, Ec. Knt, Steward feverally. Ff> Sch. Enter Kent, DeL Dyce i. and Steward. Qq.
[Exennt ^ Exit Q.. i, 3, &c Osw.] CoIL Steward* of
128, 129. Iserve.uwelcotne,] One Ene, Stew. QqFf, Sch.
Qq. I. dawning] euen Qq, Gap. Jen. Ea
129. [FlonrisL. Exennt.] Exeunt evening Pope, Theob.
FlonriilL. F,. Exeunt FJF^F^. Om. Qq. this] the Qq, Cap. Jen. Mat Steev,
SCBNS n.] Scena Secnnda Ff (Sceena Bos. Sing. Ktly.
10 stand for thought fit than for * thought it fit' [The space is susjnciously large be* tween * though' and « it,' and looks to me as though a letter had dropped out The presence or absence of « it ' need not affect the scansion.— Ed.]
124. from our home] Johnson : Not at home, but at some other place. [Com- pare * From thence,' JIfacb, III, ir, 36^ or see Abbott, S 41. This meaning the jihrase does not bear if Wmgrt's reading of least from Q. be adopted^— Ed.]
124. messengerB] Wauur ( Vers. 2C0) : This is frequently a quasi-dissyUable* See also Abbott, $468.
127. businesses] If htsiness of the Qq be adopted, it must be pronounced as a trisyllable, for which authority will be found in Walksr ( Vers, 171) gr Abbott,
{479-
I. dawning] Wakburton: The tfane is apparently night Vlt should read, 'Good downing/ i, e. good rest, the common evening salutation of that time. Cafxll: And here [line 28] we see the time of this scene— that 'tis nig^t; but late in it, and drawing towards morning. liASON: Lines 129 and 130 of this scene show that the time was veiy early in the morning. Malohb: It is dear that the morning is just beginning to dawn, though the moon is sUH Sjp^ and thoo^ Ken^ 10* H
114 KING LEAR L^^CT U» 8& fa.
Osw. Where may we set our horses ? 3
Ktnt. rth'mire.
Osw. Prithee, if thou lovest me, tell me. $
KenU I love thee not
Osw. Why then I care not for thee.
Kmt. If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.
Osw. Why dost thou use me thus ? I know thee not^ lO
Kent. Fellow, I know thee.
Osw. What dost thou know me for?
Kent. A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats;
4. P M']. Ith Q,. //*• FJFjF^. 8. Lipsbury\ Lip/buruQ^,. Ledbury In ihi Q^ Jen. conj. Fimhury CoIL iii (MS).
5. Priihte\ Prythte F,FjP^. Pritku I wcuW} Corrected to Pd by Cap. QqF^ (Afeto,i,230.)
iovis^ MJt FT. loui Qq^ Cap. 9. [Striking him. ColL UL
Steev. Mai. Ec. Bos. CoU.
early in the scene, calls it still night. Towards the close of it he wishes Gloacestei good morrow^ and immediately after calls on the sun to shine that he may read a letter. Dblius : It is night, and as, in Sh., that time of day which is approaching is given by way of greeting, and not that which b then present, Oswald wishes Kent, whom he does not recognize in the dark, a good dawning.
5. if thou lovest me] Deuus : A conventional phrase before a question or re* quest, but which Kent here takes literally.
S. Lipsbuty pinfold] What Capell sud a hundred years ago is still true : * It is not come to knowledge, where that Lipsbury is,' but what he adds is question- able : * This we may know, and with certainty, that it was some village or other, fam'd for boxing; that the boxers fought in a ring or enclos'd circle, and that this ring was call'd— '< Lipsbury pinfold." ' Farmer suggests that it may be a cant phrase with some corruption, taken from a place where the fines were arbitrary. Stebvbms surmised that it might import the same as Loh^s Pound; with which it seems to have no more connection than that 'pinfold' means < Pound' and ' Lob ' and * Lipsbury ' b^n with the same letter. ' Lol/s Pound,' as is well known, means a place of confinement, whether a prison or the stocks. NarEs's guess is perhaps as happy as any : ' It may be,' he says, < a coined name, and it is just possible that it might mean the teeth, as being the pinfold within the Hpi,^ Collier's MS gives Fim^ buryt where, says that editor, there must have been a pinfold, well known to Shake- speare's audiences; and this word, through mishearing or misprinting, was corrupted to ' Lipsbury.' Halliwell simply cites Nares ; and Dycs says merely : ' K pinfold is a pound; but what the commentators have written about the name Lipsbury is too unsatisfactory to be cited.' Wright thinks Nares's explanation the most probable which has yet been given, and adds: Similar names of places, which may or may not have any local existence, occur in proverbial phrases, such, for instance, tt •Needham's Shore,' « Wecpin,-: Cross.'
ACT II, sc. ii.] KING LEAR 1 1 5
a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred- 14
14. tkrei'Suite<r\ihread''SUited Knotk,* /uited-kundred pound Y^. thne-fuited^ three • suited^ ku$uired'pound'\ hundred ^nd F,F,F^ (thre FJ, three Jhewied hundred pound Qq. three*
14. three-suited] Farmer: This should be third-suUed^ wearixig clothes at third hand. Steevens ; This miglit mean, one who had no greater change of rai* ment than three snits wonld famish him with. So in Jonson's SUent Woman [IV, ii, p. 447, ed. Gifibrd] : * thott wert a pitiful poor fellow, . . . and hadst nothing bat three snits of apparel ;' or it may signify a fellow thrice^sued at law, who has three suits for debt standing oat against him. Deuus: This cannot refer to his poverty, bot, rather, like ' glass-gazing,' signifies foppishness, changing his snits that many times, or else wearing them all at the same time. When Edgar describes his former wealthy state, he says of himself [III, iv, 129], «who hath had three suits to his bade' Wright: If the terms of agreement between master and servant in Shakespeare's time were known, they would probably throw light upon the phrase. It is probable that three suits of clothes a year were part of a servant's allowance. In Jonson's SUent IVonian, III, i, Mrs Otter, scolding her husband, whom she treats as a dependant, says, ' Who gives you your maintenance, I pray you ? Who allows yon your horse-meat and man's-meat, your three suits of apparel a year? your four pair of stockings, one silk, three worsted ?' [According to the Cambridge Editors, * Q^ Bodl. 1,' has the misprint snyted^ which is corrected in the other Qq to shewied. From this circumstance, Wright inferred not only that the enumeration of the Qq in the Cam. ed. was wrong, and that what he and his fellow-editor had there called Q^ was in reality the earliest impression of all, but that < suit' in Shakespeare's day was pronounced shcot. He supposes that while the < edition was in course of printing the error, snyted^ was discovered, and the correction communicated verbally to the com- positor, who inserted it according to his own notions of spelling,' — Ellis's J?. J?. Pro* nunnation, p. 21 7. This h3rpothesis (which is certainly as old as Steevens), in regard to the pronunciation of suit, Wright thinks is strengthened by the puns on suitor and shooter in Lov^s Lab, Lost, IV, i, 109, &c., and also in Rowley's Match in the Darh (1633), II, i; but Elus (p. 217) doubts whether these instances are enough to decide the point with certainty. ' Hurried corrections, whether of print or manuscript, fre- quently introduce additional errors, and hence there is no guarantee that the compositor who substituted shewted for snyted did not himself put jine^/A/ when lie meant to have inserted sewted,* * which would be a legitimate orthography for suited,' < In the present day we have a joke 6f an Irish shopman telling his customer to shoot himself, meaning suit himself. The Irish pronunciation, however, only shows an English pronuncia- tion of the XVnth century. In England at the present day, shoot for suit would be vulgar, but the joke would be readily understood, though few persons use, or have even heard, the pronunciation. Might not this have been the case in Shakespeare's time ? At any rate, there b no authority for supposing that such a pronunciation could have been used seriously by Sh. himself.' In his essay on English Prontm* nation in the EUMabethan Era {Sh, fVorhs, xii, p. 430), Whits says : * S before a vowel had often the sound of sh, as it now has in st^ar and sure. Such was its sound in sue, suit, and its compounds, and I believe in super and its compounds, and in supine and supreme, ... 5 was also sometimes aspirated before o and t / of which, and of the o sound of ew, see phonographic evidence in the pronunciation of sevoer^
1 10 KING LEAR [act tt, sa &
pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave ; a lily-livered, action* 15 taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable^ finicSJ rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the com* position of a knave^ heggar, coward, pandar, and the son
15. wonied'Siockimg] worjhdjiockfm 4U2fMi taking kmave^ a wkorfm Qq ct
Qq. WQ^id'JtoekutgYjPJ?^ wo^fUd oet
Jlockmg F^ Rowe, F6pe, Han. i6. st^emrvUtabU, JSmcal} Jitpc
Hfy'Hvendt aaim4aku^ No JimicaffQq,
hyphens, Qq. 17. Piu-^naU'iMJkiritit^'] amiTVuMk^
15, 16. €t€tiom'iakmgt wkoram\ FT, irnktriimg F,Fg» No hjphen, Qq. Rowe« Pope, Han. Knt, Dyce, Sta. Sch.
which was pronounced tJkcn in the Elisabethan era, and thence down to the begin- ning of the present century. • • . Hence, too»ji«4«fr was speUed tuidt. Both spell- ings expressed the same sound.']
14. hoBdred-ponnd] Stskvxns: A tenn of reproadi; see MiddIeton*s PJUmix [IV, iii, p. 393, ed. Dyce] x * How's this ? am I nsed like a hnndied-poond gentle- man ? ' Deuvs suggests that it may mean one who weighs only a hundred pounds, and is therefore tolerably light; but the quotation from Middleton, cited also by Delins, seems oondusiye.
15. worsted-stocking] Stxevenss The stockings in England in the reign of Queen Elizabeth were remarkably expensive, and scarce any other kind than tiUe were worn, even, as says Stubbes in his Anatamu of Ahum [p. 57, ed. Fumivall], by those who had not above forty shillings a year wages. So fai Tailor's The Hog hath Lost his Ptarl [I. i] : ' Good parts, without habiliments of gallantly, are no more set by in these times than a good 1^ in a woollen stocking.' Again in Beau, and FL's Tht Coptaim [III, iii] : ' serving-men with — woollen stockings.' Malonb : See also Middleton's Phoenix [IV, ii, p. 389, ed. Dyce] : * Metreza Auriola keeps her love with half the cost I am at: her friend can go a' foot like a good husband, walk in worsted stockings, and inquire for the six-penny ordinary.'
15. lily-livered] See Macb. V, iii, 15. Wrigbt: Compare a Hen. IV: IV, iii, III:* The second property of your excelleot sherris is, the warming of the blood ; which, before cold and settledi left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice.'
15. action-taking] Mason: A fellow who, if you beat him, would bring an action for the assault, instead of resenting it like a man of courage.
16. glass-gaaing] Eoct.es : One who wastes his time in gasing at his own person in a looking-glass.
16. superserviceable] Johnson: Over-officious. Wright: It, must also ng- nify one who was above his work. See Oswald's character as drawn by Edgar» IV, vi, 251.
17. one-trunk-inheriting] Johnson, supposing that 'trunk' here refers to trunk-hose, explains this as a * wearer of old cast-off clothes, an inheritor of torn breeches.' Stebvens defines it as a fellow the whole of whose possessions are confined to ont coffer^ and that too inherited from his father. Schmidt sustains Steevens's definition, but qualifies it by showing that * inherit' also means simple possession, as in IV, vi, 125 ; « But to the girdle do the gods inherit.'
ACT n, sail] KING LEAR II7
and heir of a mongrel bitch ; one whom I will beat into 20 clamorous whining, if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition.
Osw. Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee 1
Kent. What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny 25 thou knowest me I Is it two days since I tripped up thy heels and beat thee before the king? Draw, you rogue 1 for, though it be night, yet the moon shines ; I'll make a sop o' th' moonshine of you, you whoreson cullionly bar- ber-monger, draw. 30
20. ofu\ Onu Qq. Bos. Sing. KUy.
21. elamoroui\ ciamours F,F^ Rowe. 29. iop'\ fop Theob. oonj. (witb- denint'l denyjt Ff. dtnk Q,. drawn).
dmy^l^ &th*^oi»Y^^. of the q^.
thy\thiKif\, of youl a* you Qq.
23. fyfy] Om. Qq. you whoreson] Ff+, Knt, Sdu
24. on one"] aga^t one Cap. MS.* draw^you whorfon Qq et cet
thai m] thaes Qq. cuUionly] cuUyonly Qq. Cuttyenly
26. days\ days ago Qq, Theob. Warb. F,F,. cully only Q^. CuUdnly F^F^
Johns. Jen. Steev. Ec. Var. Ktly, Glo. + . Rowe, Pope.
Mob. barber-'l Barhar* F,RF^.
26, 27. tripped.,Jthee'\ beat thee and 30. [Drawing his swordf. Kowe,
tript vp thy heeles Q!\. barber 'monger] barber" munger
28. yef] Om. Qq, Cap. Mai. Steev. Qq.
22. addition] Title; see Afacb. I, iii, 106; Ham. I, iv, 20; II, i, 47.
29. sop o'th' moonshine] Capell: A ludicrous phrase, importing that he would lay [Oswald] upon his back on the earth, like a * sop ' in a dripping-pan, for the moonbeams to baste him. Farmer : Perhaps here an equivoque was intended. In The Old Shepherd^ s Kalendar^ among the dishes recommended for Prymetyne, * One is egges in moneshine.' Na&bs : This probably alludes to some dish so called. There was a way of dressing eggs, called ' eggs in moonshine.' [Nares here gives a receipt from May's Aeeompl. Cooh, p. 437, to which I refer the enthusiastic student. It is sufficient to say that the eggs are fried in ' oyl or butter,' covered with slices of onions and seasoned with verjuice, nutmeg and salt; to be eaten with what appetite you may. A simpler receipt is given in A^. 6* Qu. 4th S., xii, 19 July, 1873; and, in the same volume, on p. 84, Roylb Entwislb says that Nares's explanation is * as constrained and shallow as his resort to a cookery-book ' * is ridiculous and unnecessary; and it was evidently arrived at without a thought being expended on Shakespeare's ideal knowledge of the orb of night, as revealed in his other allusions to it, notably in Macb, III, v, 23, 24.' ' Plainly, Kent's intention is to make a <'sop" of him in the sense of steeping him, in his own blood, by the con* tenting light of the moon.']
29. cullionly] Wright : Florio gives, * Coglione, a cuglion, a gull, a meacocke ; '
and in his WorkU of Wordes^ * Coglione, a noddie, a foole, a patch, a dolt, a meacock.'
ja barber*inonger] Farksr : This may mean a dealer in the lower tradesmen |
Il8 KING LEAR [ACrn.sc.iL
Osw. Away I I have nothing to do with thee. 31
Kent. Draw, you rascal You come with letters against the king, and take vanity the puppet's part against the ro}^ty of her father. Draw, you rogue, or Til so carbonado your shanks 1 Draw, you rascal ; come your ways. 35
Osw. Help, ho 1 murder 1 .help I
Kent Strike, you slave 1 -stand, rogue, stand; you neat slave, strike 1
Osw. Help, hoi murder! murder!
32. e9m€wUK\ hring<^. Pope-I-, Sch. rogui; standi ym dp.
34. royalty ofh€r\ royalty, her Cap. Knt, Cam. Wr.
35. thanks f} Sta. Jkankes, QqFC 37. j/div,] slave ; Knt shanks-^ Rowe+ . shanks : Cap. et cet 38. [Beating him. Rowe.
37. rogue, stand: you] Jen. rogue, 39. murder/ murder f]9mrther,mtur'
yiandyouQfiTf, Rowe, rogue,sfand,you (her, Ff. muriher, heipe, Qq.
a alitr upon the iteward, as taking fees for a recommendation to the business of the family. BIason : A fop who deals much with barbers, to adjust his hair and beard. MOBIRLY: A contemptuous extension of the word ' barber.'
33. vanity] Joh2«son: Alluding to the old Moralities or allegorical plays, in which Vanity, Iniquity, and other vices were personified.
33. puppet] SlNGBR : A mere tenn of contempt for a female.
34. carbonado] Dycb {Gloss.) : To cut cross-wise for broiling.
. 37. neat] Johnson, who defines this by * you mere slave, you veiy slave,' comes nearer to the true meaning, I think, than Steevkns, although the latter has been fol- lowed by Dycb, Schicxdt, Wright, and Mobbrly. Stbevsns thinks that < it means no more than you finical rascal, yon are an assemblage of foppery and poverty.' Then, by way of proof, Steevens cites Jonson in The Poetaster [IV, i] : < By thy leave, my neat scoundreL' But we must remember that this is spoken by Tucca, a blustering captain, whose speech is full of absurd epithets, and that it is addressed to Callus, who, we know, u not a 'scoundrel,' and are not led to suppose that he is * neat' in the sense of finical. On the contrary, it is more likely that Tucca uses «neat' in the sense which Walker {Crit, ii, 352) ascribes to it here, viz: that of pure, unmixed; still used in the phrase neat wine, &c. Singer suggests that it may mean 'you base cowherd.' Staunton has the following note: 'The sting in this epithet has been quite misunderstood by the commentators, who suppose it to mean mere ot finical. For the real allusion, see Winl, Tale, I, ii, 123: ''We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain. And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf. Are all call'd neat" See also Taylor the Water Poet's Epigram on the Husband of Mrs Pamell: " Neate can he taike, and feede, and neatly tread, Neate are his feete, but most neate is his head." ' But, as Wright says, this play on the word * neat ' would have no especial point as addre^ed to Oswald. Walker's interpretation is, I think, the true one. Rushton {Sk. lUust, by Old Authors, p. 63} : ' Because Leontes in Wint, Tale uses the word ' neat ' in a sense implying the uncleanliness which is common to cattle, or those who tend them, therefore I have thought it probable thai
ACT II, SC li.] KING LEAR 1 1 9
EnUr Edmund, wUk his rapur drawn.
Edm. How now I Whaf s the matter? \ParHng them. 40 Kent. With you, goodman boy, if you please ; come, I'll flesh ye , come on, young master.
Enter Co&NWALL, Regan, Glouobstkr, a$ui Senrafits.
Glou. Weapons ? arms ? What's the matter here ? Cam. Keep peace, upon your lives ! He dies that strikes again 1 What is the matter ? 45
Reg. The messengers from our sister and the king?
Enter...]Ed. Enter Edmund with ^. JUsk'\Jlea/k Q<\,
his Rapier drawne, Glocefter, the Duke ye\ Ff +, Glo. Dyce ii, Wr. Sch«
and Dutchefle. Qq, Cap. (subs.), Glo.+. you Qq et cet
Enter Baflard, Comewall, Regan, Glo- Enter ComwaU,...]Sta. Del. Ea-
fter. Servants. Ff (Servant. F,F,FJ. ter Gloster. Dyce ii.
Enter Edmund. Dyce i, conj. Sta. Dyce 43. Weapons t arms f\ Weapons^ armett
ii,Del. Qq. HTopons/ arms/ Cap,
4a Scene vi. Pope+, Jen. Enter Cornwall, R^^an, and Ser*
40, &C. Edm.] Baft. QqFf. vants. Dyce ii«
40. [Parting them.] Dyce conj. Wh. 44, 45. Ke^...maUer f] Cap. Prose, (subs.), Glo. + . Pari^ Rowe+ , Jen. QqFf + , Jen.
ColLiL i'tf r/. Ff et cet. Om.Qq,Del. 45. ^fXo/ir] f9iii/'xQq,P0pe+,Jeii«
41. if'\ and Qq. an Sta. Glo. + , Mob. 46. messengers] messenger Wh. please; eome] Theob. plea/e come, JUng f] King. Qq.
Qq. plea/e^ come, Ff, Rowe, Pope.
Kent may mean that Oswald was like a tenant of neat land (terra viiianorum) ; that is, a base, dirty fellow.'
4a Parting them] Dyce {Remarks, &c p. 225) : Part of the Ff is undoubtedly A stage-direction, lliis is clear from its interfering with the dialogue: Edmund asks * What's the matter?* and Kent immediately replies, ' With you [t. /. ' the matter is with you, I will deal with you '], goodman boy,' &c. That such a stage-direction is common in old plays, hardly perhaps requires to be shown ; one instance, however, may be given : * Rich, Art thou content to breath ? [Fight 6* part onee or tunse.^-^ A Pleasant Commodie, called Loohe about you, 1600. Schmidt maintains that * With you ' in Kent's reply does not refer to * What's the matter,' but to Part of the Folio, which is Intimately a portion of the text and no stage-direction. * Pari in Sh. means not only to separate, but also to go away, to depart. Edmund means it in the former sense, and Kent understands in the latter, and asks «« With you ?" That Sh., in spite of a possible misapprehension, uses to part with in the sense of to go away with some- thing, a passage in Com. of Err. Ill, i, 66, proves : **Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome : we would fain have either. Bal. In debating which was best we shall part with neither." ' [This is very ingenious, but, I fear, not convincing. — Ed.]
42. fleah] Schmidt {Lex.) : To feed with flesh for the first time, to initiate. [See line 118.]
46. messengers] Dyce : Oswald is the messenger * from our sister,' Kent the messenger from ' the king.*
120 KING LEAR [Acrn,saa
Com. What is your difference? speak. 47
Osw. I am scarce in breath, my lord.
Kent No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee ; a tailor made 50 thee.
Com. Thou art a strange fellow ; a tailor make a man ?
Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir; a stone-cutter or a painter could not have made him so ill, though they had been but two hours o' th' trade. 55
Com. Speak yet, how grew your quarrel ?
Osw. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared at suit of his gray beard, —
Kent. Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! —
47. Whaiis\ IVAa/sQ^. IVhafsQ^. $$. Acttrs] Aoures Qq. yeares F^F^^
difference f speak,'\ Rowe. dif- ^^arx F^, Rowe, Cap. Sch.
ferenee^/peakef QqFf. d iA*] FjE^+j Cap, Dyce, Wb.
49-52. No„jnan /] Prose, QqFf. Four Sch. oik' F,F,. a/ M/ Qq et cet.
lines, ending valour^,.,in thee :...feWno ; 56. yef^ you Pope, Han. Jen.
•.jsnaff / Cap. Ec. 57. 7)ltr..j/ar^^ ] Prose, QqFf. One
50. in\ all share in Rowe+, Jen« line of verse, Cap. Steev. Ec Var. Knt,
52. man P] man. Qq. Coll. Del. Sing. Sta. Wh. Ktly, Sch.
53. j4y,] /, Qq, Theob. Warb. Om. This] The FJP^, Rowe. Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. Knt, Sch. ruffan] ruffen Q..
sir ;] yir, Q,F,. sir / Rowe, Pbpe, 58. ^ay beard, — ] gray-beard. QqF,
Han. sir. Sch. F,. gray beard. F F^.
54. iheyl hee Q,. he Q,, Glo+. 59. udf] Zedd Q,. CI Johns conj.
i ■
50. disclaims in] In a note on Jonson's Volpone, III, vi (p. 264, ed. Gifford, 1816), where this same phrase occurs, Gifford says that this expression is yerycom* mon in our old writers [it occurs again on p. 284 of the same play] ; it seems, how- ever, to have been wearing out about this time, since it is found far less frequently in the second than in the first impression of Jonson's plays; two instances of disclaim in occur in the Qto ed. of Every Man in his Humour^ both of which in the Folio are simplified into disclaim. Schmidt : This is the only instance in Slu of * disclaim inj
50. a tailor made thee] Schmidt: Because the best of you is yonr clothes. Compare Cym. IV, ii, 81 : * thy tailor. Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes. Which, as it seems, made thee.' Thus also in the same play, III, iv, 51 s « Some jay of Italy Whose mother was her painting.'
55. two hours] Schmidt prefers the Uwo years' of the Ff, which is assuredly^ he says, a term of apprenticeship all too short for a sculptor or a painter. * But the Editors appear to have had a different experience, and prefer the ** two hours " of the Qq. An exaggeration of wit will sometimes ruin it.'
56. yet] There is plausibility in Pope's emendation ^^^w. — Ed.
59. xed] St£EVENS : Baret in his Alvearie omits this letter, as the author affinos
icr II, sa u.] KING LEAR 121
My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this un- 60 bolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. — ^Spare my gray beard, you wagtail ?
Cam, Peace, sirrah I — You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
Kent Yes, sir ; but anger hath a privilege. 05
Cam. Why art thou angry ?
Kent That such a slave as this should wear a sword. Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain Which are too intrinse f unloose; smooth every passion 70
60. you wilt\ you* I Q,. 68, 69, as,,M'itoain\ One line, Pope. /wfitfjCorrectedto/'i/inCapell's 68. at iAese] Om. Han.
Emta. 69. tAe holy] tho/e Qq» Pope, those
61. wail\ walUs Q.. wait Q^ wtMs My Jen.
Cam. Wr. a-Hoain] afwaiuoF^T^, in iwaine
of a jokes] of a iaques Q,. of a Qq, Pope-I-, Jen. Steev. Mai. Ec.
la^uesQ^ of a lahet F^F^, o/a^^a 70. WhUh are too intrinse'] Mai.
F,F^. fVhieh are t* intrinee, F,. H^ich art
62. gray beard] gray-beard Q,Ff. /» intrinee^ ^J^^a^ Rowe. Whieh are
63. 64. Peaee„,reverenee f] One line, to intrench^ Qq. Too intricate Pope, Qq. Jen. Too 'intrinsieate Theob. Warb.
63. iffm4]^rQq. Johns. Ec Too intrinsick H^n, Which [To Osw. Ed. conj. are too intrince Capb Too intresse or
64. know you no reverence f] you home Too intrigue Sing. conj.
no reuerence, Qq. f unloose;] to inloo/e Qq. to un-
65. hath] ^/uQq.Cap. Mai. Steev. Boa. loose; Cap. Cam.
68. Who] That Qq. smooth] sooth Pope-I-, Cap.
it to be father a syllable than a letter. [I have searched in vain for any such affinn»* tion there. We are led to infer that Baret has omitted it because it is, like x, a com- pound letter, and therefore unnecessary.— Ed.] Farmer : This b taken from the grammarians of the time. Mulcaster says, ' Z is much harder amongst us, and seldom seen : — S is become its lieutenant-general. It is lightlie expressed in English, saving in foren enfranchisements.' Wright: Ben Jonson in his English Grammar says: * Z is a letter often heard among us, but seldom seen.'
61. unbolted] Warburton : Unrefined by education. Tollet : ' Unbolted mor- tar' is mortar made of unsifted lime, and to break the lumps it is necessary to tread it by men in wooden shoes. * Unbolted,' therefore, here means coarse.
62. Spare, &c.] Staunton: An acute stroke of nature: Kent in his rage forgets it was his life, not his beard, which the fellow pretended to have spared.
69. holy cords] WARBtmTON : By these * holy cords ' Sh. means the natural union between parents and children. The metaphor is taken from the cords of the sanc- tuary ; and the fomenters of family differences are compared to those sacrilegious rats,
69. a-twain] For instances of adverbs with the preffx 4-, see Abbott, $ 24. 7a intrinse] Theobald, having found the word intrieuecate in Ant. and CUef, II
122 KING LEAR [act ir, sc. iL
That in the natures of their lords rebel ; 71
Being oil to fire, snow to the colder moods ; Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
71. natures] nature Pope + , Cap. Ec. 72. Jire] ftir Qq.
rebel] QqFf, Rowe, Jen. Dyce, the] Ff, Cap, Sta. Sch. their Qq
Ktly, GIo.-l-, Sch. rebels Pope et cet. et cet.
72. Being] Ff, Rowe, Sch. Bring 73. Renege]¥^JP^, Reneag (i({,yfh. Qq et cet. Reuenge F,.
V, ii* 307, and in Jonson*a Cynthia^ s Revels^ V, it (p. 327, ed. GiffoFd, 1816), adopted it here, and, deriving it from the Latin intrinsecus, ingeniously paraphrased it by 'inward, hidden, perplext, as a knot hard to be unravelled.' Upton (p. 363) was the first to discover the modern reading under the disguise of the Ff, and, believing it to be a shorter form of intrinsecate, cited, as a parallel elision, < reverbs' for reverberate in I, I, 145. Malone added * attent * for attentive in //am. I, ii, 193, and proposed to read, metrically, ' Like rats, oft bite those cords in twain, which are Too,' &c. * The word * intrinsicate,* he adds, < was but newly introduced into our language when this play was written. See Marston*s Scourge of Villanie [vol, iii, p. 245, ed. Halliwell] : <' new-minted epithets (as reall, intrinsecate Delphicke)." ' ^Vright says it is < difficult to say how intrinsecate is formed. It seems to be a com- pound of intrinsic and intricate,* which latter word is the definition Dyce {Gloss.) gives of * intrinse.' WRIGHT says * too intrinse ' means ' too tightly drawn.'
70. Bmooth] Flatter ; see Rom. 6* yul. Ill, ii, 98, and notes.
71. rebel] This may be either the plural by attraction (by the word * lords'), as Wright says ; or it may be that ' every ' is used as a plural, according to Abbott, § 12. For the plural by attraction, see Nam. I, ii, 38, and notes.
73. Renege] Nares: Deny, renounce; renego, Lat. [whence renegado.-^ Wright], The g is pronounced hard. See Ant.. 6* Cteop, I, i, 8, and Sylvester's Du Bartas The Battail of Yury [p. 551, ed. 1633] : « All Europe nigh (all sorts of Rights reneg'd) Against the Truth and Thee, un-holy Leagued.* [As an additional proof that the g is pronounced hard, Dyce calls attention to the spelling in the Qq. The word (with g hard) is still common enough among whist-players, in the sense of revohe, — Ed.]
73. halcyon] Steevens : This is the king-fisher. The vulgar opinion was that this bird, if hung up, would vary with the wind, and by that means show from what point it blew. So, in Marlowe's yew of Malta, I, i : ' But how now stands the wind? Into what comer peers my halcyon's bill?' Again, in Storer's Life and Death of Thomas Wolsey, Cardinall, a poem, 1599: * Or as a halcyon with her turning breast, Demonstrates wind from wind, and east from west.' Again, in The Tenth Booke of Notable Things, by Thomas Lupton, * A lytle byrde called the Kings Fysher, being hanged up in the ayre by the neck, his nebbe or byll wyll be alwayes dyrect or strayght against ye winde.' [In Peck's New Memoirs of Milton, 1740, p. 251, an extract is given from Sir Thomas Browne, in which the truth of this « conceit ' is disproved by ' reason * and • experience.* By reason, because » it seemeth very repugnant that a carcase or body disanimated should be so affected with every wind as to carry a conformable respect and constant habitude thereto.' By experience, because * if a single kings-fisher be hanged up with untwisted silk in an open roome»
ACTn,sc.iLj KING LEAR H^
With every gale and vary of their masters,
Knowing nought, like dogs, but following. 75
A plague upon your epileptic visage 1
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool ?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
I 'Id drive ye cackling home to Camelot
74. g(Ui\ gaa F,. 75- nougki\ namgki YJP^F^ Dyce^ vary} varry F,. vierit^ AllcD Wh.
conj. MS. tfogs] dayet Q,. daUs Q,.
75-77. Ktuwing..,fool f\ Two lines, 77. SmiUyou\fmoyleyou^. Smoif*
the first ending epelipHck^ in Q,. you Q^F.F.F,.
75. Knawmg\ At kncwing Pope+, 78. if} and Q,.
Cap. Steer. Ec. Bos. Sing. Ktly. And 79. drive ye\/end you Qq. dnmyon
knowing CoU. iii (MS). Knowing of Cap.
Anon.* Canuiot} Cdmttlei Q<\.
& where the fure is free, it observes not a constant respect nnto the mouth of the wind ; but, yariously converting, doth seldom breast it right If two be suspended in the same roome, they will not regularly conform their breasts ; but oft-times respect the opposite points of heaven.*] Dycb {Glott.) cites from Charlotte Smith's Natural Kisi. ofBirdi, p. 88, in proof that the belief in a connection between the Halcyon and the wind still lingered in the cottages of England in 1807.
74. vary] For instances of substantives of similar formation, see Ifam. I, i, 57, or Abbott, $ 451. Dbuus says, that it is connected in thought with 'gale,' and is equivalent to 'varying gale;* wherein Schmidt agrees with him, and notes that
* vary * as a noun in Sh. 'a found only here.
76. epileptic] Johnson : The frighted countenance of a man ready to fall in a fit Cafsll : This epithet is given to * visage,* as if smiles had as much distorted it as such a fit would have done. Dycb (GlossJ) : The context shows that it means a 'visage distorted by grinning.'
77. smile] The reading of all the Qq and Ff (ex<!ept FJ is so uniform, that it is hard not to believe that there is some corruption here, especially since, as Wright says, * Sh. uses " smOe " more than once with a direct object, but never in this sense.' If the word here be really ' smile,' it is difficult to understand why so plain a word should have been persistently misspelled. It is spelled correctly in all the Qq and Ff in the last line of this very scene. Collier's (MS) corrects to
* smile tf/,' and Ksightlky reads ' smile you a/.' If the present text be right it oomes under Abbott's S 200, where instances are given of the omission of prepo- sitions after some verbs which can be regarded as transitive, as in ' Thou swear's! U»y gods,' I, i, 163.— Ed.
77. as] Equivalent to as if For similar instances, see Ifam. I, ii, 217; II, !» 91; in,iv, 13s; IV,v,99.
79. CRckling] Oswald's forced laughter, suggests to Kent the cackling of a goose. — Ed.
79. Camelot] Hanmer : In Somersetshire, near Camelot, there are many laige moon, upon which great numbers of geese-«re bred, so that many other places in England are from thence supplied with quills and feathers. Warburton : This was
1 24 KING LEAR [act n, sc. iL
Com. What, art thou mad, old fellow ? 8o
Glou. How fell you out ? say that Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy Than I and such a knave.
Com. Why dost thou call him knave? What is his
fault? Kent. His countenance likes me not 85
80, 81. Whatt,.,joutf\ As one line, 84. Two lines, YL
Steey. Bos. Knt, Sing. What is his /auU] Ff+, Cap.
81. cutf say that.l Pope, aut^/ay Knt, Sing. Dycc i, Ktly, Cam. Sch. thatf QqFf, Rowe. Heat's his offence Qq ct cet.
the place where the romances say King Arthur kept his court ; so thb alludes to some proverbial speech in those romances. Steevens: Thus in Drayton's Polyol- iioH, The Third Song [p. 252, ed. 1 748] : < Like Camelot, what place was ever yet renown'd? Where, as at Caerleon oft, he kept the table round?' [Besides these two places mentioned in this extract from Drayton, Camelot and Caerleon, there was a third place, Winchester, 'where,' as Selden says in his Illustrations to Drayton's Fourth Song, p. 259, 'Arthur's table is yet suppos'd to be, but that seems of later date.' Capell apparently confounded these three, and maintained that Camelot was Winchester, and thence he inferred that the allusion in the text is to a ' Win- chester goose,' a cant name for a disgraceful ailment, mentioned in l Hen. VI t I, iii, 53 and Tro. 67* Cres, V, x, 55. According to Selden, in another note on p. 254 : * By South-cadbury is that Camelot ; a hill of a mile compass at the top, four trenches circling it,' &c. • • . Antique report makes this one of Arthur's places of his Round Table.' Staunton explains the confusion concerning the different localities of Arthur's Round Table by showing that * The History of King Arthur was so long in the completion that, while in one chapter (xxvi) Camelot is located in the west of England (Somersetshire) , in another (xliv) it is stated that '* — Camelot is, in English, Winchester." At a still later period, when Caxton finished the printing of the Mort d* Arthur in I485, he says of the hero: "And yet of record remain, in witness of him in Wales, in the town of Camelot, the great stones," ' &c. Staunton thinks it unnecessary to imagine with Warburton that there is any allusion to a proverbial saying in the old romances, but concludes with the following explanation of the present passage : ' In chapter xlix of Arthur's History the Quest of the White Hart is undertaken by three knights, at the wedding-feast of the king with the princess Guenever, which was held at Camelot. This adventure was encountered by Sir Gawayne, Sir Tor, and King Pellinore, and, whenever they had overcome the knights whom they engaged, the vanquished combatants were always sent "unto King Arthur, and yielded them unto his grace."* Dyce {Gloss,) thinks that there is here perhaps a double allusion, to the geese of Somersetshire, and to vanquished knights ; thus both Honmer and Staunton are right. Halliwell does not believe that there is in the text * the slightest allusion to the birds called geese, excepting of course a metaphorical one.' It is doubtful whether a knowledge of the exact location of Camelot, upon which Staunton and others lay stress, would thrqw much light on this obscure passage. — Ed.]
ACTn.sc.ii.l KING LEAR 12$
Com, No more perchance does mine, nor his, nor hers. 86
Kent Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain. I have seen better faces in my time Than stands on any shoulder that I see Before me at this instant
Com. This is some fellow, 90
Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth afle^l A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb Quite from his nature ; he cannot flatter, he,— An honest mind and plain, — he must speak truth ! And they will take it, so ; if not, he's plain. 95
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends Than twenty silly-ducking observants
86. does\ dc^s Ff. doth Q. 94. An..,,plain\ he mujt he plaim
nor,„nor] or..,or Qq, Jen. Steev. Qq.
Ec. Van Knt, Sing. Ktly. 95. And] Ff. Sch. and Qq. An
89. Than] Thai Q,. Pope et cet.
stands] stand Pope+, Ec. take it, so] Rowe. take it fo Q.
shoulder] shoulders Han. Ec. Ff. takU/oCl^,
Cam. 96. plainness] platnne/s, F.FjF^.
90-99. 7>it!r...iftV/^.] Nine lines, end- 97. more corrupter] far corrupter
\ngprai/d,»»ruffineSf,„nature^.„plainef,„ Pope, Han.
/o,„.know,„xraft,,.,ducking„»nicefyfif{, 98. sill/-] silky Warb. Han. Jen.
90. some] a Qq. silly-ducking] Ft, Dyce li, Huds.
92. roughness] ruffines Qq. filly ducking Qq et cet.
93. cannot] can^t Pope-f .
92. garb] Johnson : Forces his outside, or his appearance, to something totalljr different from his natural disposition. Staunton, by supposing that < his nature ' in the next line means * its nature/ gives a different meaning to this sentence, a mean- ing which the Clarkes also see in it, and thus interpret : < Cornwall implies, in whal he says of Kent, that he distorts the style of straightforward speaking quite from its nature, which is sincerity ; whereas he makes it a cloak for craft.' Wright : * Garb ' denotes the outward address and manner, especially of speech. Compare Heti, V: V, i, 80; Cor, IV, vii, 44; Ham, II, ii, 354. And Jonson, Every Man out of his Humour, IV, iv : * And there, his seniors give him good slight looks. After their garb, smile, and salute in French,' &c.
96. These kind of knaves] Abbott, §412 : The two nouns together connected by * of ' seem regarded as a compound noun with plural termination.
97. more corrupter] For instances of double comparatives, see Ham, II, i, iij and note. See also below, line 143; II, iii, 7; II, iv, 106; III, ii, 64; Abbott« S II, or Shakespeare /<uffm.
98. silly-ducking] Walker {Crit, i, 26) gives this as an instance where a com pound epithet has been resolved, by the majority of edd., into two simple epithets.
126 KING LEAR [act ii. sa it
That stretch their duties nicely.
Kent. Sir, in good fiuth, in sincere verity, lOO
Under th* allowance of your great aspect. Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire On flickering Phoebus' front, —
Cdm. What mean'st by this ?
Kent To go out of my diale^l, which you discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer ; he that beguiled 105 you in a plain accent was a plain knave; which; for my part, I will not be, though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to't
100. faiths Ml] footh^ 0r m Qq, Jen. QqFf.
Mai. Ec. toothy in Steev.'93, Bos. ColL 103. hy\ thou by Qq, Jen. Mai. Ec
Del. Sing. Sta« Wh. Ktly, Glo. Wr. 104. diaUa^ dialopu Qq.
101. greati grand Q,» Pope+, Cap. 105. ki\ but he Han.
Jen. Steev. Ec Var. Coll. Sta. ground btguiUd} btguWd F F . biguUd
0.- QqF,F..
103. On'\ In Qq. Or Rowe,Fope. 107, loS. to€ntreat'\ that emreafEwSi*
Jiiekering'] Pope. Jii/JkeringQ<i, ham.* fiifJHng Ff. 108. tdt} todt Q,F,F,. to it Q,, Cap.
front^—l fronts Rowe. front. Jen. Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Sing. Ktly.
98. observants] Walker {Crit. ii,348): To observe b used in the strict sense of observare; whence oburvanee, SCHMIDT (Z/x.) gives, among the meanings of ' observe/ to reverence, to show respect to, to do homage ; see 2 Hen, IV: IV, iv, 30; Ttmon^ IV, iii, 2x2. Wright : In Ham. Ill, i, 162, * The observed of all observers ' means he to whom all courtiers pay court. Hence ' observance ' is used for ceremony, AS in Mer, of Ven, II, ii, 204.
99. nicely] Malone : With the utmost exactness. Coleridge : In thus placing these profound truths in the mouths of such men as Cornwall, Edmund, lago, &c., Sh. at once gives them utterance, and yet shows how indefinite their application is. Hudson: I may add that an inferior dramatist, instead of making his villains use any such irein of original and profound remark, would probably fill their mouths with something either shocking or absurd, which is just what real villains, if they have any wit, never do.
loi. great] Knight: The change from the Qq to the Ff was not made without reason. Although Kent meant to go out of his dialect, the word grand sounded ironically, and was calculated to offend more than was needful.
loi. aspect] Nares : Always accented on the last syllable in Sh. Delius : Here used in a secondary astrological sense, like * influence' in the following line.
106. accent] Schmidt : Not seldom, as here, equivalent to speech, language.
107, loS. though . • . to*t] Johnson : Though I should win you, displeased as you now are, to like me so well as to entreat me to be a knave. Delius suggests that ' win your displeasure ' is Kent's stilted phraseology for < win you in your dis» pleasure.* Wright compares it to the somewhat similar phrase < some discretion/
ACT II. sc. ii.l KING LEAR 1 27
Com. What was th* offence you gave him?
Osw. I never gave him any. 1 10
It pleased the king his master very late To strike at me, upon his misconstru£lion ; When he, compa6l, and flattering his displeasure^ Tripp'd me behind ; being down, insulted, rail'd. And put upon him such a deal of man, 115
That * worthied him, got praises of the king For him attempting who was self-subdued ; And in the fleshment of this dr^ad exploit Drew on me here again.
Kent None of these rogues and cowards 120
109. Whatwas\ WhatiC)p^. 115,116. man. That *']'EA. man, tAai
1 10. /...any] Never any Han. Stcev. That Q,, Thcob. Warb. Johns. Jen. Mai. •93. man, that, that Q,. man, that Ff et cet
iio~ll2, /...miseonstru/tion ;] Two man Tha ft Anon* lines, the first ending master, Qq. llS. ^shment] Jfechuent Qq.
111. /ate"] lately Rowe,+ dread] dead Ft, Rowe. 113. eompa^] Ff, Rowe, Knt, Coll. 119. again] Om. Steev. '93.
Del. Sing. Dyce i, Wh. Ktly, S^h. em* 120, 121. None...fool] One line, Qq.
iun/t, Qq et cet,
II, iv, 145. Schmidt considers < your displeasure ' as the opposite to the usual style of address, • your grace,*
113. compact] Collier: Whether 'compact' or ' conjunct,' it means in concert with. • Schmidt : Perhaps the word pack, a troop, a band, was not without its in- fluence in the use of this word ; ' compact ' might suggest cotnpacked.
114. down, insulted] For the omission of the noun before a participle— t. e. < / being down,' see Abbott, § 378, and for the omission of the nominative — i, e. fie insulted/ see § 400. [In this latter instance, we might perhaps explain the absence of the nominative he by its absorption in the first syllable i>f < insulted.' — Ed.]
115, 116. such • • . That] For similar instances, see Abbott, $279, or Macb, IV, iii, 222.
116. That' worthied] This is an instance of that absorption of tV in the final / of ' That,' first pointed out by Allen in this edition of Rom. and yul, p. 429, and virtually suggested in this line by Anon., whose conjecture is recorded in the Cam- bridge edition. To the instances there given, add: *at' height,' Nam. 1, iv, 21; • with ' blood,' Ih. I, V, 65 ; see also * Prescribe not ' us,' Lear, I, i, 275. For a long list of transitive verbs formed from nouns and adjectives, such as ' worthied,' see Abbott, § 290.— Ed.
117. him attempting] Delius: That is, < For attempting him who,' &c.
Ii8. fleshment] Henley: A young soldier is said \o flesh his sword the first time he draws blood with it. ' Fleshment,' therefore, is here metaphorically applied to the first act of service, which Kent, in his new capacity, had performed for his master; and, at the same time, in a sarcastic sense, as though he had esteemed it an heroic exploit to trip a man behind that was actually falling.
128 KING LEAR [act ii. sail
But Ajax is their fix>L
Cam. Fetch forth the stocks !— 121
You stubborn, ancient knave, you reverend bra^^^art; We'll teach you—
Kent Sir, I am too old to learn ;
Call not your stocks for me. I serve the king. On whose employment I was sent to you. 125
Yqu shall do small respe£b, show too bold malice Against the grace and person of my master^ Stocking his messenger.
Com. Fetch forth the stocks I As I have life and honour,
tsi. Ajax\ A'lax Qq. Aiax 7^ 125-125. Shr^ Iam..,yom\ Two liaes,
their\ then T^ the fint ending me, Qq.
fioi] fril Warb. Han. 125. emfloyment'} iw^lcywteni F(
Fetfk,.Moeks f\ Fei€h..,Si9cki f Rowe-f,Jen« iii^kymemtt ^ iw^M-
FT (Siocketf FJ. BHng„.ftockes hot menis Q^
Qq. Jen. Fet€h..Mochs^ ho ! Steer. Ec« 126. thaU\ thoM Qq.
Var. Sing. Sta. KUjr. respiets\ Ff, Rowe, Knt, Sdu
122. ituhboTHt aneien/\ tMiom-4m' re/peet Qq et ceL
iient. Walker {Crii. i, 27). 12S. Stockingi Sioffpmg Qq.
cn€iefU\ mifereatU Qq. 129, 15a Feich,.„,no0m.J As in Qq,
rttferend'] reffrend Pope, rever^ Dyce, Glo. -f • Two lines, the fint end*
eni Q^Fft Rowe, Knt. imreuerent Q^ iagjiochs; in Ff et cet.
Cap. 129. stochsf] Jiochaf Q^ Rochet:
123. /M«— ] Thttib. you. QqFf, DeL QJFg. Siochs; VJPJP^
Sch. At I have] As Pve Sing.
Sirl Om. Qq. and honour] Om. Han.
121. AJax] HsATK: Soch a plain, blnnt, brave fellow as Ajax was, is the per* son these rascals always Choose to make their butt, and pat their tricks upon. Ca.« PELL : Ajax is a fool to them, videlicet in bragging. [I much prefer Gapell's inter* pretation, although Schmidt queries if Heath be not right. The a in ' Ajax,' was pronounced long, Sir John Harington in the Prologue to his Metamorphosis of Ajax says, that ' it agrees fully in pronunciation ' with * age akes '—1. /• aches, and Ben Jonson (yol. viii, p. 248, ed. G^fford) makes it rhyme with < sakes.' — Ed.]
123. Sir] For instances of what Abbott calls * a kind of ** burr,** which produced the effect of an additional syllable,* see S478, and also II, i, 92.
126. shall] For instances of • shall ' for vdii^ see Abbott, S 315, Macb, m, !▼, 57 ; Ham. I, ii, 120; I, iy, 35. Also Lear I, i, 34.
126. respects] If the text of the Qq was written down during a stage perform* snce, the ear probably confounded the final s in * respects,' with the following s in 'show,* although to do respect is quite as Shakespearian 9Atodo respects. The best reason for adopting the Qq text here, would be the omission of an 1 in a line which b quite full of thea.—ED.
128. StocUiif ] Compare • woitlued,' line 116.
ACriLsail] KING LEAR 129
There shall he sit till noon. 130
Reg. * Till noon ! ' till night, my lord, and all night too 1 Kent. Why, madam, if I were vour father's dog
You should not use me so.
Reg Sir, being his kiiave, I will
Com. This is a fellow of the self-same colour
Our sister speaks o£ — Come» bring away the stocks 1 135
[Sfocis br&ught out Glou. Let me beseech your grace not to do so ;
* His fault is much, and the good king his master
* Will check him for'L Your purposed low correftioo
* Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches
* For pilferings and most common trespasses 140
* Are punished with ; * the king must take it ill. That he. so slightly valued in his messenger,
13X. MWff /] no<nu?'?i. noone^ Qq. 138. purposed'^ purpoji Q,.
i3*» U3' Wl^,«.jtf.] Prose, Qq. 139. coniemtttd*st1 Cap. UmnefiQfi^
133. should"] could Qq, Pope +, Jen. the nuantst Pope +•
134. selfsame eohur] fame nature 139-14X. A..«eriMJ- Two lines, ch< Q^ f elf e fame nature Q,, Pope +, Jen. first ending pUf rings. Qq.
135. speaks oflfpeake of Q^.fpeahe$ 141. the king must] The King hi» eff Q^. Mafier» needs muft Ff, Rowe.
Come] Onu Pope, Han. 142, 143. he^ so.,.,Should] he fo..^
[Stocks brought out.] As in Should Y^^. he^sfo„.fhould(i<\.he$
Dyce, Wh. Glo. +. Alter line 133 in fo,..Should F,F^, Cap. Steev. Var. Sta,
Ff et cet. Om. Qq. Glo. h^^ so,,. To Rowe, Pope, Han* 137-X41, JIis,.,with;] Om. Ff, Rowe*
131. CowDEN Clarke: Very artfully is this speech thrown in. Not only does it senre .to psunt the vindictive disposition of Regan, it also serves to regulate dra- matic time by making the subsequent scene where Lear arrives before Gloucester's castle and finds his faithful messenger in the stocks, appear suflGiciently advanced in the morning to allow of that same scene closing with the actual approach of * night,* without disturbing the sense of probability. Sh. makes a whole day pass before our eyes during a single scene and dialogue, yet all seems consistent and natural in the jcouTse of progression.
X35. hring away] Schmidt: Sh. frequently uses * bring away* and 'come away ' as equivalent to * bring here ' and * come here.' As in the well-known song, < Come away, come away, death.'
135. Stocka brought out] Dyce: In the Folio this stage-direction is placed two lines earlier, and it no doubt stood so in the prompter's book, that the stocks might be in readiness. Farmer : Formerly in great houses, as still in some col- lies, there were moveable stocks for the correction of servants.
137. much] For instances of this as an adjective, see Schmidt {Zex. i.)
I30 KING LEAR [act n, SC. vu
Should have him thus restrained
Com. I'll answer that 143
Reg. My sister may receive it much more worse» To have her gentleman abused, assaulted, 145
♦ For following her affairs. — Put in his legs.*
Com. Come, my lord, away. [Exeunt all but Gloucester
and Kent.
Glou. I am sorry for thee, friend ; 'tis the duke's pleasure. Whose disposition, all the world well knows. Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd. I'll entreat for thee. 150
Kent. Pray, do not, sir. I have watch'd and traveU'd hard; Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. A good man's fortune may grow out at heels; Give you good morrow I
144. much mort\ yet muck Han. 148. ScsKB vi. Pope, Han. SCBHB
145. genileman\ Geuilemcn Q,. Vll. Warb. Johns. Jen.
146. For,»Ugs\ Om. Ff» Rowe. / am] Pm Pope+, Dyce U, Fui in his kgs*1 A ttage-direc- Huds.
tion. Seymour. duh^s\ Duke F,.
[Kent is put in the stocks. Pope. 150. rubb'd^ rubd Qq. rub^d F^
After line 142, Rowe. ruled Anon.*
147. Com. Come] Ff, Rowe, Sch. 151. Pray] Pray you Qq. Continued to Reg. Qq et cet. I have] Pve Pope+, Jen. Dyce
lord] good hrd Q,, Jen. Steer. ii, Huds. Ec.Var.StA.Glo.+,Dyceii. lord, let's travelled] travel* d F,F^. /f0>
Cap. conj.. MS.* uaild Qq. trauaU'd F,F..
[Exeunt..:] Dyce. Exit. Q,Ff. 1^2, Some time] Sometimi Ki^^l^xu
Om. Q,. out] out Q,.
143. Should] Abbott, S 399, following the text of F,F^ in the preceding line^ supposes that there is here an ellipsis of the nominative : ' ( Thai he or you) should.!
144. more worse] See line 97.
150. rubb'd] Wailbu&ton: A metaphor from bowling. [See Macb. UI, i, 133, and note.]
153. at heels] Eccles: Perhaps he intends to say that to a good man may arise prosperity and advantage from circumstances seemingly ignominious; or * at heels* may relate to the dbgraceful punishment which he is undergoing. Hudson : I am not certain as to the meaning of this. A man set in the stocks was said to be * pun^ ished by the heels ;' and Kent probably alludes to this. But what I am in doubt abont is, whether he means that a good man may build his fortune on such an event, or that the fortune even of a good man may have holes in the heel of its shoes; as we say * out at the toes,' or ' out at the elbows.* [Is it not likely that Kent jocosely means that what is usually but a metaphor is with him a reality ?— Ed.]
154. Give you] Schmidt: A greeting used only by common people*
ACTli, SC. ii.] KING LEAR 1 31
Glou. \Aside^ The duke's to blame in this ; 'twill be ill
taken. \Exit. 155
Kent Good king, that must approve the common saw. Thou out of heaven's benediflion comest To the warm sun !
155. [Aside.] Sta. Om. QqFf, et he ill taken. Cap. conj. MS. (with* cet drawn).*
TTie.,Jaken,'\ Two lines, Ff. 155. taken\ tooke Qq.
to blame\ too blame QaF,F,. [Exit.] Om. Q,.
UwUL..taken,'\ [to Edm.] '/zviZr 157. TXw] 7%<i/ Johns.
156. coiximon saw, ftc] Hammer: An old proverbial saying applied to those who are turned out of house and home, deprived of all the comforts of life excepting the common benefits of the air and sun. Johnson : It was perhaps used of men dismissed from an hospital, or house of charity, such as was erected formerly in many places for travellers. Those houses had names properly enough alluded to by heaven* s benedulion^ Capell : This saw occurs in one capital passage of Holinshed, and is there applied to such persons as, going about to make matters better, make them worse, and that is Kent's application of it : — Lear, says that speaker, who thinks to mend his condition by leaving his eldest daughter and coming to Regan, will find himself in that person's error who foregoes the benediction of heaven for the common and weak blessing of the warm sun ; such opinion had he now entertained of Regan's superiority in badness. [This ' capital passage ' from Holinshed Capell gives in his N(aes, vol. iii, p. 40 : 'This Augustine after his arrivall converted the Saxons indeede from Paganisme, but as the Proverb sayth, bringing them out of Goddes blessing into the warme sunne, he also imbued them wyth no lesse hurtfuU supersticton then they did knowe before.*] Tyrwhitt : This • saw * is in Heywood's Dialogues on Profh erbst Book ii, chap, v : < In your rennying from hym to me, ye runne Out of gods blessing into the warme sunne.' [This quotation from Heywood is given by Capell also {Notes, vol. iii, p. 493)» whose text I have followed. — Ed.] Malone: See also Howell's Collection of English Proverbs, in his Dictionary, 1660: • He goes out of God's blessing to the warm sun, viz. from good to worse.* Wricht : Compare <ilso Lyly's Euphues and his England (ed. Arber, p. 320) : 'Thou forsakest Gods blessing to sit in a warm Sunne.' The proverb is reversed in the Letters of Euphues (ibid. p. 196) : ' Therefore if thou wilt follow my aduice, and prosecute thine owne determination, thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into Gods blessing.' Both Walker {Crit, iii, 277) and Dyce {Gloss,) note the use of the proverb as late as Swift. [See Ham. I, ii, 67, where some notes in reference to this 'saw' will be found. I think Hunter's zeal carries him too far when he proposes the same origin to this proverb and to Beatrice's 'sunburnt' in Much Ado, II, i, 331. His theory is that ' the first and original use of this phrase [' sunburnt'] denoted the state of being unmarried ; thus Beatrice uses it. It then expanded so as to include the state of those who were without family connections of any kind; thus Hamlet uses it. It expanded still wider and included the state of those who have no home, and thus it is used in LearJ But this is mere theory, ingenious, but unsupported by proof; no attempt is made to explain, by examples, the change of application from unchurched women to homeless men. Moreover, Lear is not yet homeless. — Ed.]
132 KING LEAR [act If, sc iL
Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may l6o
Peruse this letter 1 Nothing almost sees miracles
But misery. I know 'tis from Cordelia.
159-166. Approach remed%es.\ In 162. misery. I know] mi/erie. 1
the margin, Han. knew Tf, Rowe-f , Ktly, Sch. miserie^
159. under globe] vnder gloahe Q,. / know Qq. misery, I know, — Jen.
vnder-glohe Q,, Theob. Warb. Johns. misery : — / know or misery,''^/ know
[Looking up to the moon. Cap. et cet.
Pope +, Jen. [Reading the letter. Johns.
161. miracles'] my wracke Qq. Opening the letter. Jen.
161, 162. Nothing • • • misery] Capell: Kent breaks out into a reflectiouj rising from his condition, — that people born to ill-fortune, like himself, and living under her frown, are the only persons almost who can be said to see miracles^ so wonderful are the situations, sometimes, which she is pleased to reduce them to. Hudson : I am very much in the dark as to what the text means. Of course the literal sense is, ' hardly anything but misery sees miracles ; ' but the question is, what are the particulars referred to, or what are the miraculous things to be seen in this case ? and why is misery said to see them ? I suspect that * see ' is used in the sense of experience; a sense it often bears. In that case the meaning may be, ' miracles are hardly ever wrought but in behalf of the wretched.' And upon this thought Kent seems to be building a hope of better times, both for himself and the old king ; while, on the other hand, nothing short of a miraculous providence seems able to turn their course of misfortune. Delius : That Cordelia should have thought of him, or that her letter should have reached him, seems to him such a miracle as only those in misery experience.
162-166. Cordelia . • . remedies] Johnson : The passage is very obscure, if not cormpt. Perhaps it may be read thus :
*— Cordelia has been — infonned
Of my obscured course, and shall find time— ~ From this enonnous sute-seeking, to give Losses their remedies.'
Cordelia is informed of our a£fairs, and when the enormous care of seeking her for^ tune will allow her time, she will employ it in remedying losses. Jennens was the first to suggest that Kent reads fragments of Cordelia's letter. His text reads thus •
' 'Tis from Cordelia, [Opemtigr ih4 Mter,
Who has most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscure course — and shall /itid timg [Rtadittg^ parts qf /A# Utter,
From ihit enormems state seeking to give
Louts their rems«U*s,^'~ KM weary and o'er-watched,* &c.
Capell: Kent expatiates upon his letter; tells you he knows it is from Cordelia by some circumstances of it*s delivery ; and it*s coming from her is to him a plain proof that she has (as he words it) been fortunately informed of his obscured course : And here a shorter pause follows; and after it, a sentence not perfected, of which * who'
is the substantive, and to raise us (viz. the king and himself) words wanting to
it's completion : words that may be collected, and put in afler * time,' though drop'd by one in search of conciseness, and bury^d in ruminating. Steevens thus adopts
ACTn,sc.il] KING LEAR 133
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd 163
Of my obscured course ; and shall find time
164. eoune; and} course. And Ff, instead of italics). Huds. (subs. foUow-
Wh. Sch. €Ourfet and Qq, Johns. Jen. ing Wh.). and»\Mme From,..Maie^'^
€oursi, I Rowe-h. $e€king».,r€$nedies : Mai. Steev. '93, Ec.
164-166. and,.MmeFrom,.MaietSiek' Bos. Knt, Coll. Del. Dyce i (remidUs.
ing„.j'emediesJ\ QqFf (remedieSt Qq), ColL r«w^i/w^ Del. Dyce i). and,,,
Johns. Cap. GI0.+9 Dyce ii, Mob. /... titm From.^.staUf'—seekingt — .^.rimi^
time For,..,Siatet and uek„..remedUi, dies. Sing, and sh^ii Jind time From,,,
Rowe. I„.time From,, atatet and seek,,, state'Seekingt„„remedies, Sta. and.,„
remedies. Pope, Tbeob. Warb. and,,, time, — From„Mate,—seeiing,„remedies.
time From„jtate—seeking,„remedies,-^ Ktly. And„Jime — From„jtate^seek'
Jen. (in italics with the stage-direction inff„,remedies . Sch.
[Reading parts of the letter). Steev. '78, 164, 165. shall„„From'\ shdtt„„For
'85 (but without the stage-direction), Daniel. White (subs, but with quotation-marks
and amplifies Jennens's suggestion (without, however, any acknowledgement of in* debtedness) : I confess I do not understand this passage, unless it may be consid- ered as divided parts of Cordelia's letter, which he is reading to himself by moon- light : it certainly conveys the sense of what she would have said. In reading a letter, it is natural enough to dwell pn those circumstances in it that promise the change in our affairs which we most wish for ; and Kent, having read Cordelia's assurances that she will find a time to free the injured from the enormous misrule of Regan, is willing to go to sleep with that pjeasing reflection uppermost in his mind. But this is mere conjecture. Malons does not think that any part of Cordelia's letter b, or can be, read by Kent, * He wishes,' so Malone continues, * for the rising of the sun that he may read it.* I suspect that two half lines have been lost between the words * state ' and * seeking.' This * enormous state' means, I think, the confu- sion subsisting in the state in consequence of the discord which had arisen between the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall; of which Kent hopes Cordelia will avail her- self. Mason thus paraphrases it: *I know that the letter is from Cordelia, (who hath been informed of my obscured course,) and shall gain time, by this strange disguise and situation, which I shall employ in seeking to remedy our present losses.* TiECK (vol. ix, p. 366) thinks that the poet wishes here only to call Cordelia to mind, and give us a hint that wholly new events are about to happen. When Kent says only misery sees miracles, he means that he, disguised as a common man, has already witnessed the wickedness of Goneril,the unhappy condition of the king, he himself, a nobleman, has been stocked like a low, common rogue, and yet it is possible for him to exchange letters with Cordelia. At the word * remedies,' sleep overpowers him, and the sentence is not completed. Coluer : We are to recollect that Kent, having a letter from Cordelia in his hand, is endeavoring to make out its contents by the imperfect light; he is unable to see distinctly, and hence, perhaps, part of the obscurity of the passage. He can only make out some words, and those not decisively, but sufficiently to enable the audience to judge of the general tenor of what he is trying to read. Singer says that Keht finds he cannot follow his train of thought for weariness, and so breaks o£f and settles himself to sleep. Whits follows Jennens in thinking that Kent here drowsily reads disjointed fragments of Cordelia's letter. While also follows the Ff in putting a period aAer course, line 164. 13
134 KING LEAR [actii. sc u.
From this enormous state, seeking to give 165
Losses their remedies. All weary and o'er-watch'd.
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night ; smile once more ; turn thy wheel !
{Sleeps.
165. enormous^ enormious Qq. Ff, Rowc, Coll. i, Wh.
166. ffVr-ivo/r^W] o*re'toatch*d Ff. 169. jmr^... /Mm] Johns. Smile omee ouerujatek Q,. ouer-waicht Q,. tfVr- m4fre, turn Ff, Rowe+, Cap. Smile, watek'd! Walker. cnce more turne Qq. Smile; once more
168. Tkis,»Jodging\ Separate line, turn Coll. ii.
Pope. [Sleeps.] fleepes.Q,. Hefleepcs.
168, 169. This.,Might'\ One line, Qq Q,. Om. Ff.
Deuus suggests that ' to deliver us,' or some similar phrase, is to be supplied after • sute.' Staunton thinks that no part of the letter is read, but amends the text thus :
' Of my obscured coiinc, and shell find time From this enormous state-seekinf , to give/ &C.
'The slight change of th^ll for <* shall" appears to remove much of the difficulty; that occasioned by the corrupt words ** enormous state-seeking " will some day prob- ably find an equally facile remedy.' Cowden Clarke thinks that the speech is made purposely confused to indicate the situation of Kent, that ' who,' having been once expressed before * hath,' is understood before * shall,' and that this portion of the speech is a series of disjointed sentences imperfectly uttered by the speaker, the breaks in them indicating that he is dropping off to sleep. Dycr : Of this obscure and, it may be, corrupted passage, no satisfactory explanation or emendation has yeS been given.
164. time] Bailey (ii, 90) prdposes to read ' shall find balm For this enormous State/ and offers instances to show * Shakespeare's familiarity ' with the word lnUm at the time he was writing this tragedy. It is but just to add, that Bailey does not consider this emendation as ' more than fairly probable.'
165. enormous] Johnson : Unwonted, out of rule, out of the ordinary cours«* of tilings. Bulloch (p. 242) suggests enJormoused,
169. smile] Collier (ed. 2) : Kent does not mean to ask Fortune to smile once more ; but to smile, and when smiling, to turn her wheel once more.
169. DowDEN (p. 271) : Kent possesses no vision, like that which gladdens Ed- gar, of a divine providence. His loyalty to right has something in it of a desperate instinct, which persists in spite of the appearances presented by the world. Sh. would have us know that there is not any devotion to truth, to justice, to charity more intense and real than that of the man who is faithful to them, out of the sheer spirit of loyalty, unstimulated and unsupported by any faith which can be called theological. Kent, who has seen the vicissitude of things, knovi's of no higher power presiding over the events of the world than fortune. Therefore, all ihe more, Kent clings to the passionate instinct of right-doing, and to the hardy temper, the fohitude which makes evil, when it happens to come, endurable. The * mira- cle ' that Kent sees in his distress is the approaching succour from France, and the loyalty g{ Cordelia's spirit. ... It is Kent who, characteristically making the best of an
ACT XI. SC. Ui.] KING LEAR 1 35
Scene III. The same.
Enter Edgar.
Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd ; \
And by the happy hollow of a tree Escaped the hunt No port is free ; no place. That guard and most unusual vigilance
Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 'scape 5
I will preserve myself; and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape
Scene hi.] Steev. Scene vii. Pope, tance. Cap.
Han. Scene vni. Johns, Scene iv. i. / heard^ I heart Qq. / havi
Ec The scene continued, QqFf, Rowe, heard F^, Rowe. Pve heard Pope + , Fo
Warb. Cap. 4. unumal\ unu/allQ^^^.
The same.] Sch. A part of a 5. Does] Do's Ff. Dofl Qq.
Heath. Theob. A part of the neigh- taking,] taking Qq.
bouring country. Ec. The open country. IVhiles'] While Qq, Cap. Steev. Ec
Pyce. A wood. Sta. Var. Coll. Del. Sing. Dyce, Wb. Ktly.
Enter Edgar.] Enter Edgar, at a Dis- 7. most] the Pope+.
unlucky chance, exclaims, as he settles himself to sleep in the stocks : ' Fortune, good-night ; smile once more, turn thy wheel.'
156-169. Of this soliloquy BiRCH (p. 414) whose volume, written to prove that Sh. was an atheist, is a rare tissue of perverted ingenuity, says that, though it is rather unintelligible when taken in an ordinary sense, it is comprehensible enough taken as a medium for Sh. to express his impiety. Instead of those religious senti- ments so commonly recurred to, at the coming of night, and in the midst of mis* fortune, Kent shows a neglect of Providence. [Birch forgets that Kent couldn^t say, « Now 1 lay me* when he was in the stocks. Sec Prov, xxvi, 5. — Ed.]
Scene III.] Schmidt follows this division of scenes,^ which dates merely from Pope, under protest; it is only on account of the confusion that would ensue in references to scenes and lines were his edition different from all other modem edis tions. In the Ff, Scenes ii, iii, and iv of this act form but one : Scene ii; and this indicates the ancient usage. Only with the departure of all the characters didtho scenes change. Therefore, continues Schmidt, since Kent remains asleep on the stage, the monologue which now follows was preceded merely by < Enter Edgar,' and there cnn be no doubt that Edgar, contemplating flight, entered in the twilight on the same scene where Kent was lying in the stocks — ^namely, before Gloucester's castle.
4. That] Wright : Loosely used for « Where,* the preposition • in * being omitted at the end of the sentence. Compare i Hen. VI: HI, ii, 25 : • No way to that, for weakness, which she enter'd ' ; that is, by which she entered. SCHMIOT says that '\\ stands for but that^ or simply but,
6. am bethought] Schmidt : Only here, in Sh. ; elsewhere, hovi bethought^
7. most poorest] See II, ii, 97.
1 36 KING LEAR [act 11, sc iiL
That ever penury in contempt of man
Brought near to beast; my face I'll grime with filth.
Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots, 10
And with presented nakedness out-face
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who with roaring voices
8. iver\ every Rowe, Han. Bos. .12. windsl windes F,F^ wind Q,.
la elf\eifiT^. '^^fQqF,. ^^^P^' windeQ^.
Aair} Aaire Qq. Aaires F,F,. penectdiom\ perfeeution ()f\.
hairs F,. 13. precedent] Johns, preftdent QqFf. in\ with Qq, Cap.
8. in contempt] Moberly: « Wishing to degrade a man.' So Milton's < in spite of sorrow ' means * in order to spite sorrow.*
10. elf] Matted or tangled hair was supposed to be the work of fairies in the night. See Rom. ^ Jul, I, iv, 90.
14. Bedlam beggars] Many passages from old anthois are cited by modem editors to show what these * Bedlam beggars ' were, and many more might be cited ; and yet, after all, none of them contain so good a description of Bedlamites as that given in these few lines of Edgar's speech. That *poor Tom* was their uni- versal name is shown in the first paragraph of Awdeley's Fratemitye of Vaca- bondeSt 1565 : * An Abraham man b he that walketh bare armed^ and bare legged^ and fayneth hym selfe mad, and caryeth a packe of wool, or a stycke with baken on it, or such lyke toy, and nameth himselfe poore Tom.*— «d. Early Eng. Text Soc. p. 3. The great authority in regard to * Vagabones* is Harman's *Caueat or Warening for Commen Cvrsetors^ ed. ii, 1567, also reprinted by the E. E. Text Soc. Dekker in his Belman of London * conveyed ' largely from Harman; one passage^ cited by Steevens, so strongly corroborates, Shakespeare's description that it may perhaps be worth the while to reprint it here (three editions of this Beiman appeared in 1608, the year in which Lear was first printed) : ' Of all the mad rascalls (that are of this wing) the Abraham-man is the most phantastick : The fellow (quoth the old Lady of the Lake vnto me) that sat halfe naked (at table to-day) from the girdle vpward, is the best Abraham-man that euer came to my house, the notablest villaine : he sweares he hath bin in Bedlam, and will talke frantickly of purpose : you see pinnes stuck in sundry places of his native flesh, especially in his armes, which paine hee gladly puts himselfe to (beeing indeede no torment at all, his skin is either so dead with some fowle disease,,or so hardned with weather) onely to make you beleeue he is out of his wits : he calls himselfe by the name of Poore Tom, and comifiing lieere any body, cryes out, Poore Tom is a cold. Of these Abra- ham-men some be exceeding mery, and doe nothing but sing songs, fashioned out of their owne braines ; some will dance, other will do nothing but laugh or weepe ; others are dogged and so sullen both in looke and speech, that spying but small company in a house, they boldly and bluntly enter, compelling the seruants through feare to giue them what they demaund, which is commonly bacon, or something that will yeelde ready mony. The Vpright-man and the Rogue are not terribler ene- mies to poultry ware than Poore Tom is.'
ACT 11. sc ill.] KING LEAR 1 37
Stick in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 15
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary ;
And with this horrible objeft, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes and mills.
Sometimes with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers.
Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod I poor Tom I 20
That's something yet ; Edgar I nothing am. \Exit
15. SHckl Walker. Strike QqFf ct 19. 5i?»M'/iWx]Ff+ Jcn^Sch. Sonu* ceU time Qq et cet.
bare\ Om. Ff, Rowc, Sch. sometime] fometimes F,FjF^+,
16. wooden] vfodden Q^F^F^. Jen.
17. farms] /entice Qq. 20. their] reer Warb. conj.
1%. sheep^otesyheep-coatesQii, Sheeps- Turfygod] Turfygood Theob.
Coates F,. Sheepes-Coates F,. Sheefs- Warb. Johns. Cap. Steev. Ec. Var. Coll.
Coats F,. Sheeps'Coats F^. Del. Sta. Dyce ii, Huds. TurlurU Han.
15. Stick] Dyce, who, with all other editors, reads Strike in, says that it is * equivalent to Strike into; but Walker {Crit, W, 36) proposes, with great proba- bility, "Stick in."' The probability is so great that I have adopted it— £0.
15. mortified] Deadened, hardened. See the quotation above from Dekker's Belman,
16. pricks] Mason: The Euonymous^ of which the best skewers are made, is called prick-wood^
18. pelting] Nares : A very common epithet, with our old writers, to signify paltry or contemptible.
19. bans] Wright & In Med. Latin hannum was used to denote, first, an edict or proclamation, hence, a summons, or an interdict. The original sense in English only remains in the publication of the < banns of marriage,' and the wor(f has most commonly the secondary meaning of the curse pronounced against the violation of an interdict.
20. Turlygod] Warburton: We should read Turlupin, In the fourteenth cen- tury there was a new species of gipsies, called Turlupins, a fraternity of naked beg- gars, which ran up and down Europe. However, the Church of Rome hath dignified them with the name of Hereticks, and. actually burned some of them at Paris. [In regard to their religion Littr& says : ils soutenaient qu'on ne doit avoir honte de rien de ce qui est naturel.] Plainly, says Warburton, nothing but a band of Tom- o*-bedlams. Douce: There is a better reason for rejecting Warburton's Turlupin and Hanmer's Turlurik than for preferring either, viz : that < Turlygood ' is the cor* ruptedvroiA in our language. The Turlupins were first known by the names Beg^ hards^ or Begkins^ and brothers and sisters of the free spirit. The common people alone called them Turlupins^ a name which seemn obviously to be connected with the wohfish kowtings which these people, in all probability, would make in .their re- ligious ravings. Their subsequent name of the fraternity of poor men might have been the cause why the wandering rogues, called Bedlam beggars^ assumed or ob* tained the title of TUrtupins or Turfygoods, especially if their mode of asking alms was accompanied by the gesticulations of madmen. Tur/upino and Turluru are old
12*
138 KING LEAR [ACTn.sc.iv.
Scene IV. The same.
Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.
Lear. Tis strange that they should so depart from home, x And not send back my messenger.
Gent. As I leam'd.
The night before there was no purpose in them Of this remove.
Kent. Hail to thee, noble master I
I^ar. Ha? 5
Scene iv.] Stecv. Scene vin; Pope, 2. messenger] Meffengen F^^
Han. Scene ix. Warb. Johns. Jen. 2-4. ^j...r«m^^.] Two lines, the fint
Scene v. Ec. The Scene continued in ending was^ Qq.
QqFf, Rowe, Cap. 3. in tAem] Om. Qq.
The same.] Sch. Changes agdn 4. Mu] Ais Qq.
to the Earl of Glo*ster's Castle. Pope. Kent.] Kent [Waking.] Sta.
Before Gloucester's casUe. Mai. Dycc 5. Ka /] /fa, F^, Rowe, Pope, Han.
adds Kent in the stocks. Ifow, Qq, Jen. Steev. Ec. Var.
Enter...] Enter King, and a Knight. 5,6. Ifa f. .. pastime f] Steev.'Qj. One
Q,. Enter King Q,. line, QqFf, Sta.
X. home] hence Qq.
Italian terms for a fool or madman ; and the Flemings had a proverb, *As unfortunate as Turlupin and his children.* Nares : Seemingly a name for a sort of beggar de- scribed in the preceding lines. I cannot persuade myself that this word, however similar in meaning, has any real connection with turlupin, notwithstanding the au- thority of Warburton and Douce. It seems to be an original English term, being too remote in form from the other to be a corruption from it. Coluer (ed. i) t Perhaps < Turlygood ' is a corruption of Thoroughlygood. We know nothing of any TUrlupins (at least by that name) in England.
20, 21. Toml • . • am.] Walker {Crit. iii, 277): So Rich. II: V, i, 92, 93, * short '—'heart.' What extent of license did Sh. allow himself in his rhymes? [This question has been answered by Ellis {Early Eng. Pronunciation, iii, 953) in a list of Shakespeare's rhymes and assonances. In this list there are eleven in* stances (of which four are in this play) of short a rhyming with short 0, viz : the present instance, and foppish, apish, I, iv, i6z, 163; corn, harm, III, vi, 41, 43; departure, shorter, I, v, 48, 49; dally, folly, R.ofL, 554; man, on, Mid. N. D. II, i, 263, also III, ii, 348 ; crab, bob, lb. II, i, 48 ; pap, hop, lb. V, i, 303 ; cough, laugh, lb. II, i, 54; heart, short, part, Lav^s Lab. V, ii, 55.]
21. am] RiTSON: In assuming this character, I may preserve myself; as Edgar I am inevitably gone.
The same.] See Schmidt's note, II, iii, and Capell'8 note on I, r, I.
3. night before] Cowden Clarke calls attention to the effect of advancing day which is given by this allusion, thereby allowing ' the progress of dramatic time to take place with sufficient rapidity for the spectators to be beguiled into easy cre- dence, when, at the close of the present long scene, Gloucester says, <<The night comes on/' and Cor&wall soon after obserreSf^'Tis a wild night."'
Acrii.se/iv.] KING LEAR 1 39
Makest thou this shame thy pastime ?
Kent. No, my lord 6
FooL, Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the heads, dogs and bears by th' neck, monkeys by th' loins, and men by th' legs; when a man's over-lusty at* legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks. lo
Lear. What's he that hath so mucji thy place mistook To set thee here ?
Kent. It is both he and she :
Your son and daughter.
Lear. No.
Kent. Yes. IS
Lear. No, I say.
6. thu\ Om. Pope, Han. thy Theob. Del. Dyce, Wh.
Warb. Johns. 8, 9. by M'] F F^+, Jen. Wh. Sclu
thylahyY^. 4^/'* Q.. h^ th'Y^^. 6y/AiQ^ei(xU
Kent. Ncf my lord,} Om. Qi. g. man's] Q,, Jen. Dyce, GI0.+.
7-10. lld^.,netk£r'Stach,1 Five lines, mans Q.. man F,. man is TJPJP^ et
ending ^ar^!ffV,....^Mrtf....f»/w...J^,.... cet
yiocJtes. Qq. «/»] Ed. a/ QqFf et cet.
7. IfOf Aa/] IfaA, Aa, F^ la woatien} rvodden F,F,.
he] Ff+, Knt,D7ce,Sta.Glo.+, nethtr-stochs] neatherftocha Q..
Sch. /^i(, A/ Qq et ceL neather-Jioches Q^. ta/her socks Heaths
cruel] Cruell F,F^ creweU Qq. ix, 12, Whaf s^Jure ?]Ysi^^. Prose,
cnwel FjF^, Rowe, Cap. Qq. Three lines, ending he^»..miftook
tied] tide tUe F,. ..Mere? Ft.
S. heads] hee/es Qq. head "Bos. Coll. 12^1^. It.. Jaughter.] One line, Qq.
7. cruel] The fiimllarity in sound between this word and crewel is, as Collier says, a fruitful theme for jokes in the old dramatists. Would it not be better to print crewel in the text ? Haluwell : This word was obvious to the puoster, and is un- mercifully used by the older dramatists. A pun similar to that in the text is in one of L'Estrange's anecdotes : — ^A greate selote for the Cause would not allow the Par* liament*s army to be beaten in. a certaine fight, but confest he did beleeve they might be worsted. To which linsy-wolsey expression, a merry cavaleere reply'd, • Take heede of that, for worsted is a cruell peece of stufTe.'
8. by the heads] Both in the Ff and in Q, the <the' before 'heads' and heela is not contracted, while it is contracted in every other instance in this speech. Can any inference be drawn from this that the h was not aspirated ? — Ed.
9. at' legs] An absorption of the definite article; see II, ii, xi6.
10. nether-stocks] Steevens : The old word for stockings. Breeches were called cverstockesy according to Baret's Ahearie \s. v. Breeches ; also called upper stocies^ as in the following quotation]. Heywood, among his Epigrams [p. 204, ed. Spen- ser Soc. — ^Wright], has these lines : 'Thy vpper stocks be they stufte with sylke or flocks, Neuer become the lyke a nether payre of stocks.'
11. 12. so . • . To] See I, iv, 36.
I40 KING LEAR [Acrn^sctv.
KenL I say, yea. 17
♦ Lear. No, no, they would not
* Kent Yes, they have*
Lear. By Jupiter, I swear, no I 90
AWfA By Juno, I swear, ayl
Lear. They durst not do't ;
They could not, would not do't; 'tis worse than murdefi To do upon respeft such violent outrage; Resolve me with all modest haste which way Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usagi^ 25
Coming from us.
Kent. My lord, when at their home
I did commend your highness' letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that show'd' My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth 30
From Goneril his mistress salutations ; Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,
f 7. / say^ yea.'] But I tay^ yea. 25. impose'] fiirpofe Qq*
Han. Cap. 28. thovfd] sheufd Pope. Jkewfd
18, 19. Lear. No..Jkave:\ Om. Ff +, QqFf, Rowe. tkcwed CoU. iii, Sch. Cap. 29. eanu there] eame Pope -f. thne
21. Kent. By..,ay, Lear.] Om.Qq. roivf^ Jen. (a misprint ?)
21. 22. doU^Jdt] do it.,jio it Q.. 30. panting] painting F,.
22. €Ould..MHmld'\ vfo$tld„^ould Q<y 31. salutations] /aUitatiomFJFJF^^^ Jen. Cap.
25. mights/] ma/^Q^. maiJtQ^ 32. Delivered] Deliuered Qq.
23. upon respect] Singer was the first to give the true explanation of this phrase; * deliberately or upon consideration,* Edwa&ds, Heath, and Johnson all interpreted it as referring it to the < respect' or reverence due to the king^s mes- senger. Malonb supposed that 'respect' was personified. Singer referred to Ifam, III, i, 68. Wright agrees with Singer, and cites a convincing passage from King yohn, IV, ii, 214 : ' To know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when perw chance it frowns More upon humour than advised respect.' ' That is, rather capri* ciously than deliberately. Bacon frequently uses " upon " in similar phrases. See Glossary to the Essays^ ed. Wright.*
24. modest] Schmidt {Lex,) : Filling up the measure, neither going beyond, nor falling short of what is required, satisfactory, becoming. As much haste as mxf consist with telling the full truth. See also IV, vii, 5.
25. 26. Thou . • . Coining] Abbott, § 377 : That is, < since thou comest.' The participle Is sometimes so separated from the verb that it seems to be used absolutely.
25. usage] According to Schmidt, only^used by Sh. in the sense of treatment. 32. intermission] Capell: Message intermediate. Though be saw me then
ACT n, sc. IT.] KING LEAR I ^\
Which presently they read ; on whose contents 33
They summoned up their meiny, straight took horse; Commanded me to follow and attend 35
The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks. And meeting here the other messenger. Whose welcome, I perceived, had poison'd mine — Being the very fellow which of late
Displa/d so saucily against your highness — 40
Having more man than wit about me, drew; He raised the house with loud and coward cries. Your son and daughter found this, trespass worth The shame which here it suffers. Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way. 45 Fathers that wear rags
33. V)hose\ thofe Ff, Rowe, Pope, 41. drew\ I drew Rowc +, Cap. Ec Han. Knt. 44. The shame] This Jhatne (^.
34. fneiny\meineyY^^ ««MQqJexi« 45-53- 0»- Qq-
37. And] /, Jen. 45. Wihter^s] Winters F,F^
39. which] that Qq, Cap. Mai. Stccv. wild] wiTd F,.
Bos. Sing. Ktly, GI0.+. 46-51. Three lines, Ff, Rowe, Knt
in the action of presenting a prior letter. Steevens : Without pause, without suffer* ing time to intervene ; so in Macb, IV, iii, 232. CowDEN Clarke : * In defiance of pause required,' for him to take breath or for me to rise from my knee and receive my answer. We think this interpretation is borne out by the only three other passages in which Sh. uses this word. Mer, of Ven, III, ii, 201, As You Like It, II, vii, 32. and Macb. Schmidt : Though my business was thus interrupted and the answer delayed which I was to receive. [In colloquial phrase, * in spite of " first come, first served."'— Ed.]
33. presently] Immediately. Sec Sh. passim.
34. meiny] Pope: People. Mason: The word mmt^/, which is derived from it, is still in use. Knight: In the old translation of the Bible we find: 'And Abraham saddled his ass, and took two of his meyny with him, and Isaac his son.' In our present translation, we have young men in place of • meyny.' Wright : Cotgrave gives : * Mesnie : f. A meynie, familie, household, household companie, or seruants.' Moberly: Nares quotes the French proverb, "de tel seigneur telle mesnie.' It is supposed to occur in the late Latin forms < mainada,' ' mainata ' (familiae piratarum quae mainatae dicuntur), and this may be true if, as Dies sup> poses, it is connected with the low Latin * mansionata.' It should however be re- marked that 'meyny' means 'within' in old Cornish; whence 'mayn,' a friend, plural 'mayny.' [For its use in Chaucer and Spenser see Corson's note on line 1057 in his ed. of The Legende of Goode JVomen.]
41. drew] Abbott, § 399 : Where there can be no doubt what the nominative is^ it is sometimes omitted. But (§401) a nominative in the second person plural, or fiist person (as here, ' (I) drew '), is less commonly omitted. See also II, ii, 114.
142 KING LEAR [ACT 11, sa iv.
Do make their children blind. 4/
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind Fortune, that arrant whore, 50
Ne'er turns the key to th' poor. — But, for all this, ^ou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
Lear. O, how this mother swells up tov/ard my heart t Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow, 55
Tliy element's below! — ^Where is this daughter? Kent With the earl, sir, here within.
5^1 ;$3« this^,.JaughUrs\ this^ U foU 54. upt€ward'\ upiojetu
tefm,».„daughUrs dear Coll. ii (MS), 55. Hysterica] Hiflorica Qq, F.F^
reading 52, 53 as four lines of rhyme. Hyilorica F .
52. dohurs] Dolors F^FJFy S7» 58. lViiA,..not /^ One line. Steer.
52. /or ihy\ for thy deare F,. for •93, Bos. Knt, CoU. DeL Sing. Dycc,
thy dear FjF^, Rowe, Pope, from thy Wh. Ktly, Glo.
dear Theob. Han. Warb. Cap. Jen. £c 57. here] Om. Qq. from thy Sing. Ktly.
52. dolours] Steevsns : The same quibble on ' dolours ' and doUars occun in Temp, II, i, 18, and Meas, for Meas, I, ii, 50.
52. for] For other instances of ' for ' equivalent to ' on account of,' see Mack. Ill, i, 120, or Abbott, S 15a
53. tell] Wright: Count or recount, according to the sense in which ' dolours' is understood.
54. mother] Percy: Lear here affects to pass off the swelling of his heart, ready to burst with grief and indignation, for the disease called the Mother^ or Hysterica PassiOf which, in our author's time, was not thought peculiar to women only. In Harsnet's Declaration of Popish Impostures, Richard Mainy, Gent, one of the pre- tended demoniacs, deposes, p. 263, that the first night that he came to Denham, the seat of Mr. Peckham, where these impostures were managed, he was somewhat evill at ease, and he grew wdrse and worse with an old disease that he had, and which the priests- persuaded him was from the possession of the Devil, vis. * The disease I spake of was a spice of the Mother, wherewith I had bene troubled . . . before my going into Fraunce: whether I doe rightly term it the Mother or no, I know not. • . • VHien I was sicke of this disease in Fraunce, a Scottish doctor of physick then in Paris, called it, as I remember, Vertiginem Capitis. It riseth ... of a winde in the bottome of the belly, and proceeding with a great swelling, causeth a very painful collicke in the stomack, and an extraordinary giddines in the head.' It is at least very probable, that Sh. would not have thought of making Lear affect to have the Uysterick Passion, or Mother, if this passage in Harsnet's pamphlet had not suggested it to him, when he was selecting the other particulars from it, in order to furnish out his character of Tom of fiedlam, to whom this demoniacal gibberish is admirably adapted* RiTSON : In p. 25 of the above pamphlet it is said, ' Ma : Maynie had a spice of thft Hysterica passio, as seems, from his youth, he himselfe termes it the Moother^
ACT II, SC. iv.] KTNG LEAR 1 43
Lear. Follow me not; stay here. \Exit 58
Gent Made you no more offence but what you speak of?
Kent None.- 60
How chance the king comes with so small a number?
Foot And thou hadst been set i' th' stocks for that question, thou'dst well deserved it
Kent Why, Fool?
Foot We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee 65 there's no labouring i' th' winter. All that follow their
58. h£re,'\ there f Q,. there. Q,. 62. And^ Q,Ff, Rowe, Sch, If Q^ [Exit.] Om. Qq. An Tope et cet
59. AfM/e.^o/P"} Two lines, Ff, Rowe, 62, 66, 83. i* M'] F,F3F^+, Jen. Wh. Pope, Theob. Han. Warb. Sch. ith* F,. in the Qq. T the Cap.
^1 then Qq. et cet.
f:o^^\,None»Mumherf\ None: Hew 63. thou^dst"] Ff+, Jen. Sing. Wh.
.,Mumberf Ff-t-, Knt, Sing. Dyce i, Ktly,.Sch. M<w Aa^ Qq et cet Ktly, Sch. Not how..Jrainef Qq et cet. deserved'] deserve Pope.
61. ehanee the] chaneeth the Anon.
61. chance] The conclusion that Abbott, S 37, draws from many instances is that, perhaps, Sh. used ' chance ' as an adverb, but unconsciously retained the order of words, which shows that, strictly speaking, it is to be considered as a verb.
65. We'Uset, &c.] Malonb: < Go to the ant, thou sluggard,' says Solomon, • consider her ways, and be wise; which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, pro- videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.' [Proveris, vi, 6-8.] If, says the Fool, you had been schooled by the ant, yon would have known that the king's train, like that sagacious animal, prefer the summer of prosperity to the colder season of adversity, from which no profit can be derived. ScUMiDTx Elsewhere Sh. uses * to set to school ' in the sense of to teach,
66. AU that foUow, ftc] Johnson : There is in this sentence no clear series of thought. If he that follows his nose is led or guided by his eyes, he wants no information from his nose. I persuade myself, but know not whether I can persuade others, that Sh. wrote : 'All men are led by their eyes but blind men, and they follow their noses, and there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him that's stinking.* Here is a succession of reasoning. You ask why the king has no more train ? Why, because men who are led by their eyes see that he is ruined, and if there were any blind among them, who, for want of eyes, followed their noses, they might by their noses discover that it was no longer fit to follow the king. Steevens : 'Twenty' refers to the ' noses ' of the ' blind men,' and not to the men in general. The passage, thus considered, bears clearly the very sense which the above note endeavors to establish by alteration. For 'stinking,' Mason maintained that we should read sinhing, because ' it would be nothing extraordinary that a nose should smell out a person that was " stinking." What the Fool wants to describe is the sagacity of mankind in finding out the man whose fortunes are declining.' Malone, however, vindicated the present text by showing that the same simile is applied to fallen for- tunes in AiPs fVeU, V, ii, 5 : Mankind, says the Fool, may be divided into those
144
KING LEAR
[act n, sa iv.
noses are led by their eyes but blind men ; and there's not 67 a nose among twenty but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it But the great one that 70 goes upward, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again; I would have none but knaves follow it, since a Fool gives it
That sir which serves and seeks for gain.
And follows but for form, 75
Will pack when it begins to rain.
And leave thee in the storm. But I will tarry; the Fool will stay.
And let the wise man fly; The knave turns fool that runs away; 80
The Fool no knave, perdy.
68. twenty] a lOO. Q,. a hundred Q,.
70. follcwing it,] following, Ff,Rowe, Pope, Han. Knt, Sch.
71. upward] Ff+, Cap. Knt, Wh. Scb. vp the hill Qq et cet.
him] it Han.
72. thee] Om. Jen, have] hau/e F,.
74. That sir] Tkat^ Sir, F^, Rowe, Johns. Jen. Steev. £c. Var. Knt, Sing. Wh. That Sir, F.F^F^ Theob. Cap- Coll. Del. KUy.
which] that Qq.
74. and seeks] Om. Qq, Pope+, Capw 74-8x. That,..,perdy,] Italics in Q^ Roman in Q,Ff.
76. begins] begin Q,
begins to rain] *gins rain Cap*
77. the storm] a ftorm F^, Rowe, Pope, Han.
78. But] And F,F., Rowe, Pope, Han.
79. wise man] wifeman F,F,Fj, Sch. 81. [Enter Lear, and Gloster. Ff«
(Glower. F,.)
who can see and those who are blind. All men, but blind men, though they follow their noses, are led by their eyes ; and this class of mankind, seeing the king mined, have all deserted him. With respect to the other class, the blind, who have nothing but their noses to guide them, they also fly equally from a king whose fortunes are declining; for, of the noses of twenty blind men, there is not one but can smell him who, < being muddied in fortune's mood, smells somewhat strong of her strong dis- pleasure.' Haixiwell: The word « twenty' does not, I think, refer solely to the noses of the blind men. The Fool says Kent deserves to be put in the stocks for hi» silly question, for not looking which way the wind blows, for being too simple. He says that all men who follow their noses are led by their eyes, blind men excepted. Kent, according to his notion, has not used his eyes, and therefore he deserved the stocks. Not a nose of any kind but smells him that's stinking ; and he infers thai Kent had neither used his eyes to see, nor his nose to smell ; in short, had not made use of his senses.
74. sir] For many other instances of the use of 'sir' as a substantive, see Schmidt (Z/>x.).
80to 81. The • • . perdy] Johnson : The sense will be mended if ^e read : * The
ACriLSCiv.] KING LEAR 145
Kent. Where learned you this, Fool? 83
Foot. Not rth' stocks, fool I
Re-inter LXAR, Vfith GLOUCESTER.
Lear. Deny to speak with me ? They are sick ? they are weary?
83. fool\ Om. Qq. 84. 735^ are,„.ihey ar'el th* are^.. Re-enter...] Cap. Enter Lear and M' are Qq. theyre„Jheyre Pope+,
Glofter. Qq. Jen. Dyce ii, Huds
ScENEix. Pope, Han. Scene x. sick f.^weary r'[ Johns, fteke^,^
Warb. Johns. Jen. vteary^ QqFf+, Cap.
84. Deny,.Meary f\ Two lines, Ff.
fool turns knave, that runs away The knave no fool — .' That I stay with the king is a proof that I am a fool, the wise men are deserting him. There b knavery in this desertion, but there is no folly. Collier (ed. ii) adopted this change by Johnson (which is also found in his Folio MS), and upholds it thus : * In the old editions Uie very contrary of what Sh. intended is expressed. The reasoning in tho earlier part of the rhyme is that, when it begins to rain, wise men fly to shelter, but fools stay; and it ought to be followed up by the statement that, if the fool runs away, he turns knave, and that the knave, being no fool, will not l>e so silly as to remain in the wet.' But Collier, in his Third edition, returns to the old read- ing. Both Heath and Capell adopted Johnson's change in the first of these two lines; and in the second, Heath suggested <The fooVs no kn^ve, perdy.* White: No transposition is necessary, if, as I believe, * knave ' in line 80 is used in the sense of servant, in line 81 of rogue, while ' fool/ in line 80, has the reproachful sense it has in the Bible, and in line 81 is but the official title. Hudson : The FooV seems here to be using the trick of suggesting a thing by saying the opposite. Clarke : Sh., in his own noble philosophy, here affirms that the cunning rogue who> deserts his benefactor in the time of reverse, from motives of prudence, shows him- self fool as well as knave, moral miscalculator as well as moral coward. Moberly i. The touching faith of the Fool to his master is one- of the most beautiful points of the- play. The history of court-fools does not offer anything quite like it. It, however,, took six strong men to drag away Patch, Cardinal Wolsey's Fool, from his disgraced' master, who wished to send him as a propitiatory offering to Henry VIII. Wright i The text requires no alteration. The Fool points out who the real fools in the world are. Coleridge said a knave is a fool with a circumbendibus. [I think the meanings is made clearer by showing the difference, by means of capital letters, as White does, between the generic fool and the specific Fool. — Ed.] 81. perdy] The corruption of par DUu. See Ham, III, ii, 282.
83. Not i* th' stocks, fool] Schmidt thinks that this * fool ' is not a mere retort, but is really meant, according to the song, as a title of respect, which Kent has earned by his fidelity to the king.
84. Deny] Schmidt {Lex.) x To refuse. Compare Rom. 6* ^ut, I, y, 16 1 ' which of yoa all Will now deny to dance ?'
13 K
146 KING LEAR [act ii, sc. iv.
They have travell'd all the night ? Mere fetches, 85
The images of revolt and flying off Fetch me a better answer
Clou. My dear lord.
You know the fiery quality of the duke ; How unremoveable and fix'd he is In his own course. gO
Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! * Fiery ? * what * quality ? ' Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, rid speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
Gloti. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so.
Lear. 'Inform'd' them? Dost thou understand me, man? 95
Clou. Ay, my go#d lord.
Lear. The king would speak with Cornwall. The dear &ther Would with his daughter speak, commands her service.
85. have trav€Wd\ haue trauaiVd Ff. deaths piagui, Qq. P,F,. have traveled F,. traueted Q,. 92. « Fiery f ' what • quality T'^ tohai
traue/dQ^. fiery quality; Qq. Jen. Ec. Fiery ^
all the"} hard to Qq. Stecv. Ec what fiery quality f Pope+. Var. Coll. Sing. Cloueester^ Glaueester']- Glofier,
85, 86. fetches. The'] Ff + , Jen. Coll. CUfier QqFH Oldster Popc+ . Wh. Sch. fufiice, /the Qq. fetches; 94.9$. Om.Qq.
ay. The Cap. conj. (Notes, i, Var. 97. M/^/tfry?iM^] Separate line, Ff
Read. p. 29.) fetches all—'TheSttev. 98. commands her sennce"] Qq. com
conj. fetches these .• TheKdy. fetches; mands, tends, fervice Ff, KnU com*
The Cap. et cet. mands tends service Rowe i. commands,
Sj. Fetch] Fet FJ?^. Bring Vo^-¥, tends service Kowtil commands,* tends
87-93. Afy dear„.wife,] Prose, Qq. service Scb.
^l. plague I death/] Plague, Death,
85. fetches] Wright : Devices, cunning contrivances, pretexts. See //am. II, i, 38. Compare 2 Samuel, xiv, 20, where the verb « fetch about ' occurs in the sense of bringing about by artifice : * To fetch about this form of speech hath thy servant Joab done this thing.'
86. images] Walker ( Vers. 255), on the score of metre* suggests that this is the singular, and would print it image'. For similar instances, see 'horses,' Afacd, II, iv, 14; 'sense is,' /i. V, i, 22; ' message,' //am. I, ii, 22; Abbott, $471.
88. quality] Wright: Nature, character. See below, line 133. Moberlyi For a man so passionate as Lear to be asked to humour the vehement temper of one whom he still considers his inferior, is the most stinging request that can possibly be made.
98. Schmidt thus justifies his reading, which is viitually that of the Ff : The majority of the Qq read * commands her service,' and this convenient reading hu been adopted, without more ado, by the modem editors. But they failed to nota
ACT II, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 1 47
Are they ' informed ' of this ? My breath and blood !
• Fiery ? * 'the fiery duke ? ' Tell the hot duke that— 100
No, but not yet ; may be he is not well ;
Infirmity doth still neglefl all office
Whereto our health is bound ; we are not ourselves
When nature being oppressed commands the mind.
To suffer with the body. TU forbear; 105
And am fall'n out with my more headier will,
To take the indisposed and sickly fit
99. Om. Qq. Dyce ii, Huds.
100. * Fiery }\,Jhat—^ Furie duke^ 104. comMands\ CdmandQ^,
U// /Ae Aot duke tAat hesLT, Qq. 106, fa/fn] fallen Qq, F^F,. Cap.
that — ] M^— [Glocester offers (changed to/i//*#f in Errata), Jen. Steev.
to go. Johns. Ec. Var. Knt, Coll. Del. Sing. Wh. Ktly,
102-105. Infirmity, . , forbear ;']T)ixtt Sch.
lines, the first two ending health.,,o^ Aeadier] kedier Q,. heady Pope,
prejl Qq. Han.
103. IVhereto] where to Qq. 107-110. To,„her'] Three lines, the
we are"] we^re Pope +, Jen. first two ending iwaif,..Jl/r^ / Qq.
that one Quarto, and probably the oldest [see Q, (Bodl. i) in Appendix, p. 374], reads conie and tends service^ of course, nonsense, but yet containing nearly the same letters as the Folio; also that Lear demands service not only from Regan, bat also from Cornwall, and that the circumstances, at least, would require : commands them service^ which would come nearer to the ductus literarum of the true reading. As concerns this latter, it must be granted that tend^ which is elsewhere so often identical with attend, is used by Sh. nowhere in the sense of await, in which sense he frequently uses attend (see II, i, 125). But this is of no material weight. Just as the prefix a is found before numberless verbs without changing their essential meaning (abate, abide, accursed, advantage, adventure, affright, affront, a^per* tain, &c.), so, on the other hand, in the older language the prefix a (whatever may be its origin) is often omitted at will. In II, i, 30, we have had ' quit thyself as a hapax legomenon for acquit thyself. So also in IV, i, 49, < parel ' for apparel. Other hapax legomena are *lege' for allege, 'noyance' for annoyance, 'paritor' for apparitor, 'rest' (only in Com. of Err.) for arrest, 'say' for assay, *stonish' for astonish, 'void' {Car. IV, v, 88) for 4woid. The occurrence of the shortened form is not therefore conclusive against the use of tend in a sense with which extend does not seem hitherto to have had anything in common, especially since the meanings of the two words in other passages coincide in the majority of cases, and also since tendance is equivalent in Sh. to attendance.
loi. well] COLERIDGB: The strong interest now felt by Lear, to tzy to find ex- cuses for his daughter, is most pathetic.
102. still] Constantly. See Rom. 6- yul. V, iii, zo6; Macb. V, viii, 14; Ham. I, i, 122; IV, vii, 117; Abbott, §69; and %Yi. passim.
106. more headier] See II, ii, 97. Schmidt: Neady is not headstrong, but headlong, impetuous. ' Will' occurs frequently in Sh., as the bliod impulse in oppo> tition to wit or reason.
148 KING LEAR [Acxn.sc.iv
For the sound man. — Death on my state I wherefore 108
Should he sit here ? This a£l persuades me
That this remotion of the duke and her no
Is pra£lice only. Give me my servant forth.
Go tell the duke and 's wife I 'Id speak with them,
Now, presentfy ; bid them come forth and hear me.
Or at their chamber-door I 'U beat the drum
Till it cry sleep to death. 11$
Glau. I would have all well betwixt you. \ExU^
Lear. O me, my heart, my rising heart I But down ! ^ooL Cry to it, nunde, as the cockney did to the eels
108. [Looking on Kent Johns. 112. GoieU\ 7>i/Qq.
on my\ Changed to «^ n^r by and*t\ and his Cap. Steev. Ec.
Cap. in Errata. Var. Knt, Dd. Ktly.
whirrfor€\hmiwhirefireVtx^'^. PldlY^. JI'dV^F^F. HeQq.
108, 109. wAer€fifre...jne1 One line, 1x5. skip to death'] In Italics, Johns.
Jen. Cap. Steer. Ec Var. CoU. (with quo«
109. a^"] vifya^KAy, tation-marks), Del. death to sU^l/Luoru persuades'] persnadM Han. oA ii6. / woutd] Pd Cap. Steev. Bos.
snost persuades Steev. conj. Ktly.
III. pra/lice onfy. Give'] pra£tife [Exit.] Om. Qq.
onfy, GiueT^. praOifetOnelygiMe^. 1 17. 0,..Mownf\ O my hearty my
pra/lt/e onely. Give F.. pra/lice onefy^ heart, Q^. O my heart I my heart Q.. GweF^. pra^ice only t give F^, 1x8. coehney] CohneyQ^.
108. wherefore] Walkbr ( Fers, 1 1 1) cites this passage among many others of the stronger accent falling on the last syllable. Abbott, $ 490, would make * Death on my state V a separate line, and begin the next line with ' Wherefore/ thus retaining its nsnal accent.
109. persuades] ScxnooT : Perhaps persuadeth, unless it is to be assumed that the s of the third person prolongs the word by a syllable.
1 10. remotion] MaijONB: From their own house to Gloucester's castle. Scmaiyr in his Lex, adopted this interpretation by Malone, but in his edition he revokes it, and says that the word here means holding one's self at adistance, non-appearance ; and that - It bears the same meaning in the only other passage where Sh. uses it : Tim. IV, iii, 346.
XIX. practice] See I, ii, 172.
X15. Till...death] Stievens: That is, till it cries out, *Let them awake no more;' 'Let their present sleep be their last.' Knight: Tieck suggested the true explanation : till the noise of the drum has been the death of sleep,— has destroyed sleep,— has forced them to awaken. Staunton adopts Tieck's explanation, but ad- mits that Steerens's is ' very possibly the poet's idea.' As Wright says, it is diffi« cult to see how such an interpretation as that of Steevens could be appropriate.
118. cockney] TYRWRirr (in a note on Chaucer's Jfev^s Tale, 4205: 'And whan this jape is tald another day, I shal be halden a daffe or a cokenay ') : That this is a term of contempt, borrowed from the kitchen, b very probable: A Cook, in the base Latinity, was called Coquinator and Coquiuarius^ from either of which Cokenay might be easily derived. In Fien the Plowman. ' And ynt ich sey, by my
Acrn.sciv.] KING LEAR 149
when she put 'em T th' paste alive ; she knapped 'em o' tfa' 1 19
119. thi\ kee ¥^ he F^^, Rowe, 119. x^] Ae Rowe, Pope, Han.
Pope, Han. knapped' emlknapi^emYU rapi
put* em f M'] F.F.Fj, Sch. put vm Qq. rapt *em Pope +, Jen. Stccv.
them i* tJk* F^, Rowe +, Jen. Wh. put Ec. Var. CoU. Sing. Wh. KUy. wrapt
vmit'AQ^. put them vp V tAQ^ put Vm Han.
tJUm V ike Steev. put *em T tke Dyce. 1^ M'] Ff +, Cap. Jen. Wh. Sch.
pQstel pAst Q^. pasty To^-k-. otkQq. €^ tke Sitev. tt cet,
saule ich haue no salubacon ; Nouht a cokeney, by cryst, colhoppes to make' [Pass. IX, 309, C. Text, ed. Skeat]. It seems to signiry a Cook. And so, perhaps, in Tke Tumament of Tottenham [Percy's Reliques^ ii, p. 24, ed. 1765]. <At that feast were they served in rich aray; Every five and five had a cokeney.' That is, I suppose, a cook or scullion^ to attend them. In those rhymes ascribed to Hagh Bigot, which Camden has published : < Were I in my castle of Bungey upon the river of Waveney, I would ne care for the King of Cockeney.' The author, in calling London Cockeney, might possibly allude to that imaginary country of idle* ness and luxury which was anciently known by the name of Cokaigne, Nares also believes that it is derived from cookery, and that here in Lear it means a cook, be« cause she is * making a pie.' In the passages dted by Tyrwhitt, Whalley and Malonb think that it refers to some dish, while Douce maintains that it signifies a little cock. Haluwbll, in his Arckaie Dict,^ says that he can find no certain au« thority for any such interpretation as Tyrwhitt gives it, but in his Folio edition of Sk, he says that the word < cockney is used in various senses, amongst others in that of a cook, which may be its meaning here, although I rather incline to the belief that the reference is to some absurd tale of a London cockney well known in Shake- speare's time.' In which belief Dyce agrees with him. Way (note on Coknay in Prompt, Parv.) : The term coknay appears in the Promptorium to imply simply a child spoiled by too much indulgence; thus likewise in the Medulla: *Afammo» tropkus, qui diu sugit. Mammotropkus mammam longo qui tempore servat Kokenay dieatur, noster sic sermo noiatur,* There can be little doubt that the word is to be traced to the imaginary region * ihote Cokaygne,' described in the curioid poem given by Hickes, Gramm, A Sax., p. 231, and apparently translated from the French. Compare ' /e Fabiiaus de Coquaigne,* Fabl. Barbazan et M^on. iv, 175. Palsgrave gives the verb * To bring up lyke a cocknaye, mignotter** and Elyot renders ' delicias facerct to play the cockney.' « Dodeliner^ to bring vp wantonly as a cockney.' — Hoi- lyband's Treasune, See also Baret's Ahearie, Chaucer uses the word as a term of contempt, and it occasionally signifies a little cook, coquinator. See Brand's Pop, Ant., notes on Shrove Tuesday. CoTGRAVE gives Coquinei A beggar-woman; also a cockney, simperdecockit, nice thing. Wedgwood: The original meaning of 'cockney' is a child too tenderly or delicately nurtured, one kept in the house and not hardened by out-of-doors life ; hence applied to citizens, as opposed to the hard- ier inhabitants of the country, and in modem times confined to the citizens of London. [Does not this definition lack an allusion to the meaning in which Sh» here uses it, which is undoubtedly that of a cook ? Minsheu*s derivation from the neigk of a cock, is too familiar to be more than referred to. — Ed.] Badham {Cam* Essays, 1 856, p. 284) : * Cockney' is perfectly out of place here in Lear, and must have supplanted either cook-maid 01 a similar word. 119. knapped] Steevens maintained that rapfd of the Qq was the true readingy 13*
ISO KING LEAR [act ii. sc iv.
coxcombs with a stick, and cried 'Down, wantons, down I 120 Twas her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse, but- tered his hay.
Re-enter Gloucester, wiih Cornwall, Regan', and Servants.
Lear. Good morrow to you both.
Com. Hail to your grace !
\Kent is set at liberty. • Reg. I am glad to see your highness.
Lear. Regan, I think you are ; I know what reason 125
I have to think so ; if thou shouldst not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, Sepulchring an adultress. — Oh, are you free ? Some other time for that — Beloved Regan, Thy sister's naught O Regan, she hath tied 1 30
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here !
120. cried * Down"] cryed dettm Q^, 1 26. shouldsinctbelwertnotVo^-^.
X2I. her^ his YJP^, Rowe, Pope, Han. 127. moiher's] Mother F,.
122. hay] Hey F,F,. 1 28. [To Kent. Rowe. Re-enter....] Cap. Enter Duke O] yea Qq.
and Regan. Qq. Enter Comcwall, Re- 13a sister's] fijlers F,F,. Jifter it
gan, Glofter, Seniants. Ff. Qq.
123. Scene X. Pope, Han. Scene 131. ^r^.']Sta. ^/^^. Q,, Coll. DeU XI. Warb. Johns. Jen. Wh. Ktly. heare, Q,. heere, or here.
[Kent is set....] Rowe. Kent Ff, Cap. Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Sing,
here fet at liberty. Ff. (libery F,). Om. Dyce. here; or here: Rowe et cet. Qq. [Points to his heart. Pope.
125. you] your F,.
because the only sense of the verb to * knap ' is to snap, or break asunder. Wright (who defines 'knapped' by crached, and cites Mer, of Ven, IH, i, 10; and the Prayer-Book version of Psalm xlvi, 9 : < He knappeth the spear in sunder') replies to Steevens by saying: <We use crack in both senses [i.e. rap and snap]^ and ^ knap " and crack are both imitative words, representing the sound which is made either by a blow or by breaking anything in halves.'
128. Sepulchring] Steevens: This word is accented in the same manner [on the penult] by Milton, Ode on Shakespeare^ 15 : 'And so sepulcher*d in such pomp dost lie ; ' and by Fairfax [as a substantive] : ' As if his work should his sepulcher be.'— c. i, St. 25. Schmidt (Lex,") gives the two following additional in<;tances of this verb with this same accent: Lucr, 805 ; T100 Gent, IV, ii, 118; and Rich. II; I, iii, 196, of the «:ubstantive also thus accented.
130. tied] Heath quotes with approval the change of ' tied ' to AW suggested by Sympson, in a note on Beau, and Fl. Lcv^s Pilgrimage [III, ii] : an eagle or hawk is said to tire on its prey when it pulled at and tore it to pieces. ' It seems most probable that ** sharp-tooth*d unkindness ** is the vulture which Goneril has tired on
ACT II, sc. iv.] KING LEAR l^l
I can scarce speak to ttiee ; thou 'It not believe 13a
With how depraved a quality — O Regan !
Reg. I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope You less know how to value her desert 135
Than she to scant her duty.
'Lear^ Say, how is that?
132. that^lt] ihout Q,. ihouU Q.. 1 34. you\ Om. Qq.
133. With how dtpraved'\ Of horn de^ 136. icanti Jlacke Qq. scan Han priued Qq. 0/ hiw deprm/d Johns. Jen.
Cap. Jen. Steev, Ec. Var. Sing. Dyce ii, 136-141. Lear. Say^^Jblame^ Onu
Ktly, Huds. Qq.
quality — ] Rowe. qualities Qq. 136. Say, how is] How is Pope, Han.
quality, Ff. Cap. ffa I hou^s Cap. conj.
the heart of Lear.' Roderick {Canons ofCrit, p. 270, ed. vii) also adopted tind^ and would read : • She hath tired (sharp-tooth'd unkindness !) like a vulture — here." 135, 136. You • • • duty] This passage, as Wright truly remarks, <is one of many passages in Sh. of which the sense is clear, but which it is almost impossible to paraphrase.' Johnson, on the ground that 'scant' is directly contrary to the sense intended, adrocated Hanmer's change to scan in the sense of measure or pro- portion. Stebvens says, ' Surely no alteration is necessary,' and then gives what he says is ' the intended meaning of the passage' : ' « You less know how to value her desert, than she (knows) to scant her duty," f. e. than she can be capable of being wanting in her duty.' Capbll : Had [line 135] been conceiv'd in these words, * You more know how to lessen her desert,' then had thoi^e expressions been proper that suc- ceed in the next line ; as it is, * scant ' cannot have been the word in that place ; and scan • • • bids fair to be the Poet's intended term in it's room, spoird by printers. Malonxx The inaccuracy of the expression will clearly appear from inverting the sentence without changing a word : ' I have hope, says Regan, that she knows more (or better) how to scant her duty than you.know how to value her desert ;' 1. e, I have hope that she is more perfect in the non-performance of her duty than you are perfect, or accurate, in the estimation of her merit. If Lear is less knowing in the valuation of Goneril's desert than she is in scanting her duty, then she knows better how to scant or be deficient in her duty, than he knows how to appreciate her desert. If Sh. had written * I have hope that you rather know how to make her desert less than it b, (to underrate it in your estimation) than that she knows how. to scant her duty,' all would have been dear, but by placing ' less ' before ' know ' this meaning is destroyed. In IVint, Tale, III, ii, 55, we meet with a similar inaccuracy : * — I ne'er heard yet That any of these bolder vices wanted Less impudence to gainsay what they did Than to perform it first,' where, as Johnson justly observed, * wan/A/ should be had or less should be more,* Again in Afacb. Ill, vi, 8. Schmidt {Lex, p. 1420, 9) gives many similar instances of what he calls the ' duplication of negative words,' as here * less know ' and ' scant *ie.^, Mer. of Ven, IV, i, 162 : < Let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation,' equivalent to either: no motive to let him lack, or, no impediment to let him have. Again, Tro, and Cres, I, i, 28 ; Cor, I, iv, 14, &c. < All such irregularities,' adds Schmidt, * may be easily accounted for. l*he idea of negation was so strong in the poet's mind, that he expressed it in more than
152 KING LEAR [ACTll»S&iT.
Reg. I cannot think my sister in the least 137
Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance She have restrain'd the riots of your followers, Tis on such ground and to such wholesome end X40
As clears her from all blame.
Lear, My curses on her I
Reg. Oh, sir, you are old ;
Nature in you stands on the very verge Of her confine. You should be ruled and led By some discretion that discerns your state 145
Better than you yourself Therefore I pray you That to our sister you do make return ; Say you have wrong'd her, sir.
Uar. Ask her forgiveness ?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house :
138. «>,] Om. Pope+ <i. ker. Ff, Rowe, Knt, Ktly, Sen.
X^y-i^l. Naiurit return 'I Four 14&. AsA Aer} AsA o/AerKHy.
lines, the first three ending tonfim,... 149. hi^ Om. Qq.
d(/cretwfi9..,your/e/fi, Qq. becomes the house .*] hecometh tu :
143. in you'] on you Qq* Han. hecometh — thus, Johns, conj.
144. her] his F,. the house:] the hou/e, Q,. iJU 146. you] Om. Qq. Aou/efQJFf, the C/se fTheob. me now: 14&, her, sir,] her Sir f Q^. her /ir. Jen.
one place, unmindful of his canon that ' your four negatives make your two affirma- tives.' Had he taken the pains to revise and prepare his plays for the press, he would perhaps have corrected all these passages. But he did not write them to be read and dwelt on by the eye, but to be heard by a sympathetic audience. [Is the levity ill-timed that suggests that perhaps Regan's speech puzzles poor old Lear him- self, quite as much as his commentators, and he has to ask her to exphiin : ' Say, how is that?'— Ed.]
136. Say • • • that?] Coleridge: Nothing is so heart-cutting as a cold, unez* pected defence or palliation of a cruelty passionately complained of, or so expressive of thorough hard-heartedness. And feel the excessive horror of Regan*s ' Oh, Sir, you are old !' — and then her drawing from that universal object of reverence and in* dulgence the very reason for her Jrightful conclusion — ^ Say you have wrong'd her/ All Lear's faults increase our pity for him. We refuse to know them otherwise than «s means of his sufferings and aggravations of his daughters' ingratitude.
144. confine] Add this instance to those noted in Ham, I, i, 155.
145. discretion] The abstract for the concrete, like < you houseless poverty,' HL Iv, 26, or 'speculations,' III, i, 24. See I, iv, 146.
149. house] Theobald suggested and adopted use^ 1. e, the established rule and custom of nature. Warburton interpreted it as meaning the order of families, the duties of relation ; and Steevens cites from Qiapman's Blind Beggar of AUxandria^ 1598 : ' Come up to supper ; it will become the house wonderfull welL' But CAnu
ACT II, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 1 53
* Dear daughter, I confess that I am old ; 1 50 Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed and food.' Reg. Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks.
Return you to my sister. Lear. Never, Regan.
She hath abated me of half my train ; 155
Look'd black upon me ; strook me with her tongue.
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart.
All the stored vengeances of heaven fall
150. [The King kneeling. Han. 156. strookl Cap. Knt, Sch. Jtro^k^
Kneeling. Johns., after line 151. Qt^^* J^^oke Q,. struck Rowc et cet.
154. [Rising. Coll. (MS). 158-160. AlLJameneis^ Two lines,
Nevti^ No Qq. the first ending top / Qq. 156. blackl backe Q,. blank Theob.
takes it in a more restricted sense : ' fathers are not the heads only of a house or a family, but it*s representatives ; they are the house, what affects them affects the rest of it*s body; Regan, therefore, is call'd upon to observe an action in which she is doncem'd, and then say her opinion of it ; and she does accordingly shew herself hurt by it, and declares it •* unsightly," unbecoming her and her father, t. e, the house! Whereupon Jyiox. (Ctoss^ remarks: I suspect that Lear is now thinking much more of himself as head of the house than of Regan as a member of it, and that, though she chides him for such ' unsightly tricks,* she is not of a nature to be < hurt ' by them. CoLUER : The (MS) tells us to read moiUh, %, e. the mouth of Lear. We feel reluctant to adopt the emendation, inasmuch as, according to War« burton, the sense is pretty clear; but still it is extremely probable that the copyist, or the compositor, misheard the word, and that Lear intends to call attention to the manner in which such terms of abject submission to a child misbcsccm a father's mouth, Schmidt: Compare Coriolanus's horror when his mother kneels to him, V, iii, 56.
150. Knight doubts the propriety of the stage-direction which is usually inserted here. * Lear is not addressing these words to Regan, but is repeating what he would say to Goneril if he should ask her forgiveness. Collier : Both * Kneeling ' here and < Rising' below are inserted in the (MS), so that there can be no dispute as to what was the practice of the ancient stage in this respect. These are whit Regan means by 'unsightly tricks.* Davies {Dram» Misc, ii, 190): Garrick threw him- self on both knees, with his hands clasped, and in a supplicating tone repeated this touching, though ironical, petition.
151. unnecessary] Johnson: Old age has few wants. Steevens: It seems unnecessary to children that the lives of their parents should be prolonged. The phrase may mean, old people are useless. So in Massinger's Old Law [II, i] :
• Your laws extend not to desert But to unnecessary years.' Tyrwhitt : In want of necessaries, unable to procure them. Wright : Lear is merely apologizing ironi- cally for his useless existence. [For the scansion of this line, see Walker ( Vers. 275) and Abbott, § 458, where it is held that the last two syllables of this word are extra syllables, and that the line has but five accents.]
154 KING LEAR [ACTn.sc.iv.
On her ingrateful top ! Strike her young bones, 159
You taking airs, with lameness !
Corn, Fie, sir, fie ! 160
Lear, You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
Into her scornful eyes ! Infefl her beauty.
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun.
To fall and blast her pride 1
159. top\ head Pope, Han. Cam.
160. You taking] Infe^ling Pope. 164. Tc fair\ Do, faU Johns, conj. Fie,iir,fie\Fie,fiefirq^^, Fie O./aUOx^,
fi^M Qf ^y* fy^fy' Stecv. »93, Bos. and blasi her pride."] Qq. and
161. Lear.] Om Q,. blijler, F(, Rowe, Km. and blati her, 163, 164. sun. To] SuHne To F.F^F^, Walker.
159. young bones] Jourdain {^Tram, Philological Soc, i86o-i,p. 141): That is, infants just born, which fairies then had power over, but not afterwards. By < young bones ' the following quotations will, I think, prove the meaning : ' — poose ftonle, she breeds yong bones. And that is it makes her so tutchy sure. Con, What, breeds young bones already I' — Hisl. ofKingLeir [See Appendix, p. 397]. * These dead men*s bones lie heere of purpose to Inuite vs to supply' the number of The liuing. Come; we'l get young bones.' — The AtheiU^s Tragedy , Act IV, by Cyril Toumeur, 1612. For «you (aking airs'* read * you X^xng faif'es,* that is, fairies, I am not sure whether the elision would be the two letters ie; if only f the omission is simply the / John Addis, jun. {N, 6* Qu» 1867, 3d Ser. vol. xi, 251) suggests, what is undoubtedly correct, that * young bones ' means, not * infants just bom,* but infants • unborn,' and cites Ford's Broken Heart, II, i : * What think you. If your fresh lady breed young bones, my lord ? Would not a chopping boy do you good at heart ?' [The phrase also occurs with the same meaning in Brome's Jovial Crew, III, i, vol. X, p. 326, Dodsley's Old Plays, 1826.— Ed.]
160. taking] Malignant, bewitching* See III, iv, 58, and Ham, I, i, 163.
164. To Call] M ALONE says that thb verb is here used actively, meaning to humble or pull down. ' Infect her beauty so as to fall and blast (t. e, humble and destroy) her pride.' Mason, on the other hand, thinks that it is intransitive; 'You fen- ^ucked fogs, drawn up by the sun in order to fall down again and blast her pride.' [The majority of editors incline to Malone's view that it is here transitive (DvcB enumerates fourteen instances in Sh. of the use of * fall ' as a transitive verb ; this, however, is not among them), but one of the latest and best, Wright, says that, although in either case it would yield a good sense to this passage, yet it seems pre- ferable, on the whole, to regard it as intransitive, ' as more in keeping with '* drawn," which precedes, and <* blast," which follows.' Schmidt suggests that ' pride ' has accidentally been omitted at the end of the line in the Ff, and that the true reading is ' To fall and blister pride.' ' To fall ' would be intransitive, and * pride ' used as frequently in Sh. in the sense of ' braggart beauty.' Compare * a southwest blow on ye And blister ye all o'er.' Temp, I, ii, 324; * Takes off the rose From the fail forehead of an innocent love. And sets a blister there.' Ham, III, iv, 42.]
164. and blast her] Nichols {Notes, &c.. No. 2, p. i) upholds the Ff, because
ACT II. sc. iv.] KING LEAR 155
Reg. O the blest gods ! so will you wish on me, 165
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 170
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
165, 166. O...0n] As in Qq, Del. Dycc, tender hefted C^^, tender^heartedKo^rt ii,
Sing, ii, GI0. + . The first line ends Pope. Coll. (MS), Sing. Ktly.
Cods /¥( el cet, 168-171. Thy /rain,] Three lines,
166. mood is en] mood-^ Qq. mood^s the first two ending ore, ,bum. Qq. en, Steev. '93, Knt. 169. Thee] the Q,.
168. Thy] The Qq. harshness] rashness Johns,
iender-hefted] Uder hefted Q,.
the foggy state of the atmosphere in England is extremely productive of erysipelas, which attacks the face, ' " infecting its beauty," and covering it over with extensive vesications or " blisters." '
168. tender-hefted] Steevens: Hefted seems to mean the same as heaved,
* Tender-hefted,' t . e, whose bosom is agitated by tender passions. Sh.. uses * hefts ' for heavings in Wint, Taie, II, i, 45. The Qq, however, read, • tender-hested nature,' which may mean a nature which is governed by gentle dispositions. ' Hest ' is an old word, signifying command. Davies : I suppose the expression was in- tended to signify smooth, or soft-handled, consequently put here for gentleness of dis* position. Knight : We doubt Steevens's explanation, //eft, — haft, — ^is that which b haved, — held; and thus, ' thy tender-hefted nature ' may be thy nature which may be held by tenderness. White : Although I fail to see the appropriateness of any sense that may be extracted from either text of the Ff or Qq, I shrink from adopting the very specious reading of the earlier editors : itndcr-hearted, Edinburgh Re- view (July, 1869, p. 106) : * Heft' is a well-known older English word for handle, that which holds or contains, and * tender-hefted ' is simply delicately-housed, dain- tily-bodied, finely-sheathed. < Heft ' was in this way applied proverbially to the body, and Howel has a phrase quoted by Halliwell : loose in the heft, to designate an ill habit of body, a person of dissipated ways. Schmidt (Lex,) quotes this extract, and adds : But is haft or heft, i, e. handle, ir)deed that which holds or contains, or not rather that by which a thing is held ? Loose in the handle, applied to a person, could not possibly mean any thing else than what loose in the heft is said to have designated. Perhaps * tender-hefted,' t . e. tender-handled, is equivalent to tender, gentle, to touch or to approach ; of an easy and winning address, affable. Wright : A heft or haft is a handle, and a nature tender-hefted is one which is set in a tender handle or delicate bodily frame. Regan was less masculine than Goneril. Cotgrave has, ' Emmanch6 : m. ie : f. Helued ; set into a haft, or handle. Lasche emmanchi. Laxie, idle, slothful!, weake, feeble, loose ioynted, faint-hearted.' Prompt, Parv.
* Heftyde, manubriatus.'
170. bum] Malone: So in Timon, V, i, 134: «Thou sun, that comfort*at« bum I*
156 KING LEAR [act 11, sc iv.
1 o bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, 172
And in conclusion to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in ; thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood, 175
Effefts of courtesy, dues of gratitude ;
Thy half o' th' kingdom hast thou not forgot.
Wherein I thee endow'd.
Reg, Good sir, to th* purpose.
Lear. Who put my man i' th' stocks ? \Tucket within.
Com, What trumpet's that ?
Reg. I know't, — ^my sister's. This approves her letter, 180 That she would soon be here. — \Enter Oswald^ Is your lady come ?
Lear. This is a slave whose easy-borrow'd pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.—*
174. kntnt^sf^ knoweft Qq. knouft^ my F,F^ et cet.
176. dues\ and dues Rowe, Pope, 180. letter] letters Qq,
Han. x8i. [Enter Oswald.] Dyce. Enter
177. hastthau] thou hast 'Rawe )i-\- ^ Steward, (after thatf line 179), Qq. Jen.Ec. {zSict stocks f line 179), Ff. Enter Os*
178. endou^d] indotu'd Q,. endowed wald. (after line 179), Coll.
Q,. 182. easy-horrcfwd] Cap. eafie hor*
to M'] tooUh Q,. to the Q,. to^ rozoed QqFf. easy-borrowed Thcob.+,
th' F,F,F;. Sch.
179. [Tucket within.] Coll. After 1S3. Jichle] J!chly F^F^. JtcklyFjP^t line 178, Ff. Trumpets within. Rowe. Rowe.
180. knoit^tf — my] Dyce. kmmftmy her he] her 9 a Q,. QqF.Fj, Sta. knou^t; my Cam. Wr.
172. sizes] Johnson: To contract my allowances. Delius: The same as * exhibition,* I, ii, 25. Wright: The words 'sizar* and 'sizing* are still well known in Cambridge ; the former originally denoting a poor student, so called fipom the ' sizes * or allowances made to him by the college to which he belonged*
179. Tucket] See II, i, 78.
180. I know't] Steevens: Thus in 0th, II, i, 179: 'The Moor! I know his trumpet.' It should seem, from both these passages, and others that might be quoted, that the approach of great personages was announced by some distinguishing note or tune appropriately used by their own trumpeters. Cornwall knows not the present sound ; but to Regan, who had often heard her sister's trumpet, the first flourish of it was as familiar as was that of the Moor to the ears of lago. Deuus considers Steevens's supposition as unlikely, because it was through the letter that Regan knew of Goneril's approach. Delius evidently takes ' this ' as the object of ' approves.*
182. easy-borrow'd] Eccles: Pride that requires no cause of importance to produce it, derived from an insignificant source, depends upon uncertain favoiir* MoBERLY : Borrowed without the trouble of doing anything to justify it.
ACT II, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 1 57
Out, varlet, from my sight!
Com, What means your grace ?
Lear. Who stock'd my servant? — Regan, I have good
hope i8s
Thou didst not know on'L — ^Who comes here?
Enter GONERIL.
O heavens. If you do love old men, if your sweet sway Allow obedience, if yourselves are old. Make it your cause ; send down, and take my part ! — Art not ashamed to look upon this beard ? — 190
O Regan, will you take her by the hand ?
Gon. Why not by th' hand, sir ? How have I offended ? All's not offence that indiscretion finds And dotage terms so.
Lear. O sides, you are too tough ;
Will you yet hold? — How came my man i' th* stocks? 195
Com, I set him there, sir; but his own disorders Deserved much less advancement
Lear. You ! did you t
Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
185. Scene xi. Pope, Han. Scene 188. All(no\ alow Q,. Hallow Warlx XII. Warb. Jen. Theob. Han.
Lear.] Gon. Qq. 1/] if you Ff, Rowe, Knt, Sing.
stock' d\Jlruck(i^. Jlrucke^ Ktly, Sch.
I hovel Pve Pope+. 190. [To Gon. Johns.
186. Thou.„Mttvens,'\ Pope. Two I91. vnll you] Ff+, Sta. Sch. wilt lines, the first ending ant or onU, QqFf. thou Qq et cet.
onW\ ant Qq. of^t Mai. Steev. 193. finds] fines Warb. conj.
Bos. I94>I95- t?...^<>A//] One line, Rowc.
Who] Lear. Who Qq. • 195. Will„.stochs f] Two lines, Ff.
Scene xii. Johns, (after here f), yet hold f] hold yet t Cap. conj.
Enter Goncril] Johns. After 196. sir] Om. Q,.
grace f (line 1S4) in QqFf. X97. much less] no less Han. much
187-189. Ifi,'part!] Three lines, the more Johns, conj
first two ending alow,,,cau/e, Qq. 1 98. weak^ *waie Han. Jen.
187. your] you Qq. ' seem so] deenCt so Warb.
188. Allow] Upton {Prefi ix) : To be well pleased with, approve of. C6m« pare Psalm xi, 6: The Lord alloweth the righteous. Steevens: Warburton might have found his emendation [see Textual Notes] in Tate's version.
197. less advancement] Percy : A still worse, or more disgraceful, situatioiu a situ.ition not so reputable. Schmidt : An undisguised sneer. 14
1 58 KING LEAR [act ii. sc. iv.
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister, 200
Dismissing half your train, come then to me ;
I am now from home and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entertainment
Lear, Return to her? and fifty men dismissed? No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose 205
To wage against the enmity o' th' air. To be a comrade with the wolf, and^wl Necessity's sharp pinch ! Return with her?
199. montkl monetk QqF.F.Fj. Ktly.
«02. /am] Pm Pope + , Dyce ii, Huds. 207. comrade\ Cdmerade F^.
204. i^r/] Ff, Rowe, Pope, Theob. howl^ Coll.ii.iii,(MS). €wl,ot
Han. Coll. Del. Wh. Sch. JUri Sing. Oier/^QqFf. awl; Theob. Johns, awi^
Ktly. ker^ Qq et cet. or ewl, — Rowe et cet.
206. (^ M'] oik' F,F,. of the Qq. Cap.
206, 207. To wage . . . howl] Theobald (followed by Hanmer) transposed these lines so as tOi make * Necessity's sharp pinch,* the object of * wage.' This Jennens pronounces nonsense, because * it is that ** pinch " which forces a man to " wage ;" war is understood, or perhaps it is the very word instead of ** wage.'* " Necessity's sharp pinch " is in apposition to " To be a comrade," ' &c. Capell: ' To wage,' is to wage combat or battle. Steevens says, that wage is oflen used thus, intransitively, but the only instance that he cites is in I, i, 154, where * wage ' means to wager. According to ScHKlDT {Lex,), this is the only instance of its use in Sh. Keightly inserts war in the text.
207. howl] This change from owl of the QqFf to * howl ' is due to Collier's (MS), and, to my mind, carries conviction. In the old reading, which renders < Necessity's sharp pinch ' parenthetical, there is a tameness out of place at the close of Lear*s wild outburst, which is, it seems to me, thoroughly un-Shakespearian. In the present text there is a climax, terrible in its wildness : roofs are to be abjured, storms braved, and famine howled forth among wolves* What companionship is there between wolves and owls, beyond the fact that they are both nocturnal ? Yet what grates me in the old reading is, not so much the association of the wolf and owl, but the un-Shakespearian feebleness of bringing in * Necessity's sharp pinch ' as an explanation of what it is to abjure roofs and to be a comrade with wolves. As if Lear would stop to explain that people did not usually prefer such houseless poverty or such companionship, but that it was only the sharp pinch of necessity that drove them to it. In the old text there is no crest to the wave of Lear's passion ; it surges up wild and threatening, and then when it should ' thunder on the beach ' it subsides into a gentle apologetic ripple. Theobald's transposition of the lines, or any change that will avoid putting < Necessity's sharp pinch ' in apposition with the rest of the sentence, is better than the old text. Schmidt must have felt this, although he does not say so; he puts a full stop after * owl,' and makes ' Necessity*s sharp pinch * an anacoluthon. Furthermore, Schmidt says the circumstances enumerated in lines 305, 206, and 207 are those under which the sharp pinch of necessity is felt, but they
AcriLSCiv.l KING LEAR 159
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought 210
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg
To keep base life afoot. Return with her ?
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom.
Gon, At your choice, sir.
209. Why, the\ Why the QqF,F,. 209. 210. tooh.....hrot^Mf[ Oac line,
Whvf the FjF^, Rowe, Pope. Qq.
hot'blooded] Pope, hot-bloodied 21 1, beg] hag^,
Ff. {bloudied F ). hot blood in Qq. 214. [L(>bking on the Stewd^. Johns. (bhud Q,).
are not the sharp pinch itself. If It be objected that to howl a pinch is a violent metaphor, 1 reply that it is not mor6 violent than to take up arms against a sea. As far as concerns the addition or the omusion of h in Shakespeare's day, I can only urge the exceeding difficulty, if hot impossibility, of deciding what words were as- pirated and what were not; in the old MSS, especially of the Xlllth centttry, the use of the h is very * uncertain and confused ' ( — Ellis, p. 598). In process of time the number of words in which it was customary to dropjthe h diminished," until now, as Ellis says (p. 221), there are bYit ^st : heir^ honest, honour^ hostler^ and hour [qy. herb /], which it is ' social suicide to aspirate.' Wherefore the absence of the h, in the present passage, is not fatal to the emendation ; the only instance in the Folio where * owlet ' is used, it is spelled ff owlet. Note too, as a slight corroboration of the present reading, that in III, i, 13 occurs the phrase 'Ihe htWy-finchedwolf*; and the howling of the wolf is agam referred to in III, vii, 62. But whether or not the old pronunciation was owl or howl, and whether or not all the old texts have owl, I adhere to the maxim of the great Bentley : sana ratio vel centum codidhus potior* Xyids opinion {Strictures, &c., p. 6) should be recorded here, so emphatic is his condemnation of the present text : * the glaring absurdity of ** the old corrector's aspirate "... will inevitably be treated by every future editor with the intense con* tempt it deserves.' Moberly, although be does not adopt it; pronounces 'howl* « another instance of improvement in the text, suggested' by Collier*s (MS), and adds that, when thus read, the lines become ' convincingly forcible.' — Ed.
209. hot-blooded France] For instances of nouns which express the subject of the thought without any grammatical connection with a verb, s^ IV, vi, 77 : * That thing you speak of, I took it for a man ;' ffam. I, v, 53; and Abbott, S417.
211. knee] From the only other use of this word in Sh. as a verb {Cor, V, i, 5), Schmidt infers, very erroneously I think, that this does not here mten to kneel down before France's throne, but to travel thither on the knees. The passage in Cor, is not parallel.
213. Bumptex] CoTGRAVE, cited by Wright, sufficiently defines this : 'Sommfer : m. A Sumpter-horse; (and generally any toyling, and load carrying, dmdge, oi groome).'
214. groom] For the sake of scansion Abbott, S 484, would pronounce this as • dis^llable.
I60 KING LEAR [act ix, sa iv.
Lear. I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad 215
I will not trouble thee, my child ; farewell. We'll no more meet, no more see one another. But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; Or rather a disease that's in my flesh.
Which I must needs call mine ; thou art a boil, 220
A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle, In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee; Let shame come when it will, I do not call it; I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. 225
Mend when thou canst ; be better at thy leisure. I can be patient; I can stay with Regan, I and my hundred knights.
Reg. Not altogether so ;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; 230
For those that mingle reason with your passion
215. /] New I Qq, Jen. Mai. Ec. 225. taht\ tailes Q,.
216. theft my] thee. My Johns. high'judging\ Hyphen, F,F.Fj.
219. that^s Iff] that lies within Qq. 228. /] Ay Anon.
220. ^^// J Mai. -5i/^Q,FjF^+,Cap. 22%-2ZU Not.^pamm] Fonr lines, Jen. Del. Sch. ByU QaF,F,. ending yet,»„'welcomit,»,Jho/e,„.^Jlont
221. 222. A. ..In my] One line, Qq. Qq.
221. plague-sore] Hyphens, F^F^. 228. altogether so] altogether fo Jit
an] orF{-¥, Knl, Sch. Qq, Cap. Jen. Steev. Ec Var. all to*
embossed] Cap. imbojfed Qq gether Pope, Han.
Ff +, Jen. 229. holed] looke Qq.
224. thunder-hearer] thunder-heater 230. sir] Om. Q,, Pope+.
Warb. (misprint, corrected in Errata). 231. your] you F^
220. boil] Malons first changed the spelling of this word, of which the spelling in the Prompt. Parv.^ Cotgrave, QqFf, &c betokens a uniform prontmciation. Cot* grave (s. v. Bosse) gives it as a Sjmonym of * plague-sore.'
221. embossed] This word is used by Sh. in two different senses, and has conse- quently given rise to some discussion, chiefly carried on in the pages of Notes &• Queries; (references to all the communications will be found in the Bibliography.) FURNHTALL {N. ^ Qu. 4ftk Ser. xi, 507) at last showed that there was here a con* fusion of two different words. One is from the French embosser^ defined by Cot« grave : * To sweU, or arise in bunches, hulch'es, knobs ; to grow knottie, or knurrie/ In this sense it is used here. The other is from the Old French : * emboser^ emboiter» enchiUser une chose dans une autre.— Dncange, v. imbotare! — Hippeao. This is Cotgrave's 'Emboister: To imboz, inclose, insert, fasten, put, or shut vp^ as within a box/ and is Shakespeare's word in AlTs fVeU, III» vi, loj.
ACT 11, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 1 6l
Must be content to think you old, and so— 232
But she knows what she does.
Lear. Is this well spoken ?
Reg. I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers ? Is it not well ? What should you need of more ? 235
Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger Speak 'gainst so great a number ? How in one house Should many people under two commands Hold amity ? Tis hard ; almost impossible.
Gon, Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance 240 From those that she calls servants or from mine ?
Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack ye, We could control them. If you will come to me. For now I spy a danger, I entreat you
To bring but five and twenty ; to no more 245
Will I give place or notice.
Lear. I gave you all —
Reg. And in good time you gave it
Lear. — Made you my guardians, my depositaries ; But kept a reservation to be followed
232. you old'\ you are old Qq. Q,. chancft <J^
j<>— ] Rowe. /<?, QqFf. 242. >'] Ff+. Jen. Sta. Sch. you
233. spoken\ fpcken now Qq, Jen. Qq et cet.
Steev. Ec. Var. 243. you wi//] you^U Pope+.
234. Wkat^fifty'l Rowe. vthat fifty 244. For.,.Janger;\ In parenthesis, QqFf. Q.Ff.
236. Hth iha{\ since To^-k- . 245. ^«/] Om. F^F^.
237. S^aA} Speakes Qq. 247. «//— ] Rowe. all. QqFf. one house'\ a houfe Qq. 249. kept^ keep F,F^, Rowe.
242. Why..,yef[ Two lines, Ff. follovfd'\ Pope, followed Qq
chanced\ chan^d Ff. chanejl Ff, Rowe, Sch.
236. sith] See I, i, 179.
246. give . . • notice] Wright : Recognize.
247. And ... it] Hudson : Observe what a compact wolfishness of heart is ex pressed in these few cold words ! It is chiefly in this readiness of envenomed sar casm that Regap is discriminated from Goneril ; otherwise they seem almost too much like mere repetitions of each other to come fairly within the circle of Nature, who never repeats herself.
248. guardians] Moberly : The guardians under me of my realms. So in the Bible * Jeroboam*s nursing father,* means he to whom Jeroboam gives his children to nurse.
I4» L
l62 KING LEAR [act XI, sc nr.
With such a number. What, must I come to you 250
With five and twenty? Regan, said you so?
Reg, And speak 't again, my lord ; no more with mp.
Lear. Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd. When others are more wicked ; not being the worst Stands in some rank of praise. — \To Gon!] I'll go with thee. 255 Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, And thou art twice her love.
Gon. Hear me, my lord :
What need you five and twenty, ten, or five, To follow, in a house where twice so many Have a command to tend you ?
Heg. What need one? 260
Lear. Oh, reason not the need ; our basest b^;gars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow not nature more than nature needs,
350. number,'] number fBf. Johns. Jeo. favo9tred,„wickid : Sch.
What^ Om. Pope4-. 253, 254. wieked.^wukedl wrinkUd
251. twenty f ^^a«>] twenty ^ l^c- ...wrinJkM Vfaxb,
gan, Q,. /wwi/iV, Regan Q,. twenty, 2$$. lpoA']/eemQ^,Jea. /eemeQ^
Jieg^n t Cap. Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Dyce, 254. M^] Om. Pope-h .
Glo.-f , Mob. Huds. 255. [To Gon.] Han.
252. speak 7] speak it Cap. Steev. Ec. 257. artl hast Pope, Han.
Var. 260. need'\ needs Q,, Pope+, Jen.
2S3i 254. favour' d,„.wuked ;] Theob. needes Q,.
favof'd, wicked, QqFf {favof'd, Fj) 261. need^ deedQq,
Rowe. favour d,„„wicked. Pope. Han.
253, 255. Those . . . praise.] Caprll, whose punctuation is substantially followed by Knight, Delixts, and Moberly, puts a stop after ' well-favour'd,' and a comma after ' wicked/ thus preserving, as he claims, ' a natural and just thought full of dramatic beauty.' The objection to the present text he finds in ' Those,* which, he says, makes the sentence ' particular, confining it to some persons then present, which are Regan and Goneril.' His interpretation of line 253 is that ' it is expressive of the speaker's astonishment that the judgement of heaven is not fallen upon his daughters for their wickedness ; that they are still '* well-favour'd," and their beanty not blasted, as he had particularly imprecated upon one of them a few pages before. The line should be spoken with bitterness, a contracted brow, and surveying them from head to foot, and a great pause made between that and the next line.' Steevsns : A similar thought appears in Cym, V, v, 215-217, < It is I that all the abhorred things of the earth amend By being worse than they.'
261. Oh, reason, ftc] Coleridge: Observe that the tranquillity which follows the first stunning of the blow permits Lear to reason.
262. superfluous] Moberly: Have in their deepest poverty some very poor thing which may be called superfluous.
ACT II. SC. iv.] KING LEAR 1 63
Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady ;
If only to go warm were gorgeous, 265
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st.
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But for true need,—
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need !
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age ; wretched in both. 270
If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
264. life is'\ life as Q,. life's as Q^, 268. /Aat patience^ poHencel that pa» Jen. GI0.+, Mob. tience which Pope+. that: fatienee,
beasfs"] Cap. ieafls QqFjF^. patience Jen. Sch. but patience, pom
Beafles F,F,. beasti Han. Sch. tience Qx^. iii. your patience that 1^\<^
266. wear'st] wec^refl Qq. olson.*
267. warm. But, need, — "] Steev, 269. man] fellow Qq.
warme, but. need, QqFf {need: F^. 271. stirs] F^, Ktly, Cam. Wr. Sch.
warm; but,„need, Rowc+, Jen. warm, Jlirres QqF,F,Fj. stir Rowe at cet. But..jteedl Johns, warm, — But,„needf 272. so] to Q,. too Q,.
Cap. 273. tamefy] lamely Qq.
265. gorgeous] Walker ( Vers, 178) doubts if- this word be the correct one. *Note "gorgeous'* in the next line, and see Shahespeare as to such repetitions/
267. need, — ] Moberly: To imagine how Shakespeare would have ended this sentence, one must be a Shakespeare. The poor king stops short in his definition ; it is too plain that his true need is patience.
268. Uiat • • • need !] Capell : The repetition of ' patience ' is energetical, and *that' a word t>f great force; importing — that patience which is seen in you,
* heavens,' that patience which none but you can bestow on one. in my situation. Mason : The passage should run thus : ' but for true need, You heavens I give me patience : — ^patience I need.' Nature needs not the gorgeous habits you wear, but to supply a real need, you heavens! give me patience — patience I need indeed. Hudson follows Mason's reading of this line. Jervis gives what is essentially the same reading. Malone : I believe the word ' patience ' was repeated inadvertently by the compositor. White and Keightley adopted this conjecture of Malone's. RiTSON ! The compositor has repeated the wrong word. Read : ' give me that pa- tience that I need.' Or, still better, perhaps : * give me patience ! — that I need.' Collier (ed. ii) : Instead of 'that patience ' the (MS) has ' but patience.' We may doubt whether the line did not originally run : ' give me but patience that I need.' Dycb : I would not assert, with Capell, that the old text is uncorrupted. Walker ( Crit. iii, 278) prefers either Malone's conj. or Ritson's second suggestion. Wright: If any change be made Mason's seems . best. Abbott, S 476, would make ' give
• • . need ' a separate line, pronouncing the second ' patience ' as a trisyllable.
271. that stirs] For instances of the relative with a plural antecedent followed by a singular verb, see Abbott, § 247.
272, 273. so . • . To] See I, iv, 36.
l64 KING LEAR [^act ii, sc it.
And let not women's weapons, water-drops.
Stain my man's cheeks ! — ^No, you unnatural hags, 275
I will have such revenges on you both
That all the world shall — ^I will do such things, —
What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep ;
No. ril not weep. {Storm and tempest. 280
I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws.
Or ere I'll weep. — O Fool, I shall go mad I
[Exeunt Lear, Gloucester^ Kent, and Foot. Com. Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm. Reg. This house is little; the old man and's people 285
Cannot be well bestow'd.
Con. Tis his own blame ; * hath put himself from rest,
174. And lei] FT, Knt, Dyce, Sta. [£xeniit...Fool.] Q, (subs). Ex-
Clo.+»Sch. OiSf/Qqetcet etint Lear. Leifter, Kent.. Q,. Exeunt.
t77. skaii^^Jkaa, Q,. Ff.
ikingsr-^ Hmn. things^ QqFf -f • Scene xn. Pope, Han. Scbns
179. Htrtk,] Johns. iortk. Qi^v ^^ni. Waib. Johns. Jen.
mrtk f Q,F,. iarth t F.F,. 284. Corn.] Duke Qq.
[Stonn and tempest.] Ff, alter withdraw: ^iwiif\ withdraw tts;
ty^'iy^, line a8i. After j/mw, line 284, itwUl¥XLy.
Pope. Om. Qq. Stonn heard at a Dis- 284-288. Let,.,„foUy:\ QqFf. Lines
ance. (after hearty line 281), CoU. end houie,„€annoi,,,pU.,JoUy. in Cap.
aSo-a8a. A2».. ^^SatM,] Jen. Two lines, Steev.'93, Ec. Lines end houie„.can^
the first ending weeping, QqFf +, Cap. not,^bestct^d,„rest,,,,foliy. Bos. Lines
a8l. Ihave\ Tkeugk I have Han. end storm,„pe9pU,Mame ;., .folly. Ktly.
M Mi>] Tkii Pope+. 285. littU\ small Pope, Han.
aSa. inh a knndred thousand] in a and's] F.F^F^.Rowe, CoU. Sing.
100 thon/and Q,. in a thou/and Q,. Wh. Sch. an'ds F,. and his Qq et ceL
i'mA) a thousand Pope+, Cap. 286. bestoidd] bestowed Qq, Sch.
Jtaws] /owes Qi\. 287. blame; * ha/h] Dyce ii, Huds.
a8j. Or ere] Ere Q^. Or^erF^F^, blame hath QqFf+, CoU. Sta. Wh.
Howe, Po))e, Theob, Han. Dyce ii. blame, hiath Han. Jen. blame; he
ril]ileQ<{. //fF,. /F^,F^+, ;ifl/>l Cap. Steev. Mai. Ec. Ktly. blame;
Jen, hath Bos. et cet
a8a. flawa] Malonb: A 'fiaw' signifies a crack, but is here used for a small lnuken particle. SlNOUt t This word, as Bailey observes, was * especially applied to lh« hi making off of shivers or thin pieces from precious stones.'
aHj. Or ara] See Kam. I, ii, 147. Hazutt: If there is anything or any author I Iks iha yearning of the heait [in this scene], these throes of tenderness, this pro- fuund exprculon of all that can be thought and felt in the most heart-rending situa* ||on« thai U exhibits, we are glad of it; but it is in some author we have not read.
a87« bUmai 'bath] Collier, following the QqFf, says that < blame' is the
ACT II. SC. IV.] KING LEAR 1 65
And must needs taste his folly. 288
Reg. For his particular, I'll receiVe him gladly.
But not one follower.
Gan. So am I purposed. — 290
Where is my lord of Gloucester ?
Com. Followed the old man forth ; he is retum'd.
Re-tnttr Glouckstjuu
Glau. The king is in high rage.
Com. Whither is he going?
Ghu. He calls to horse ; but will I know not whither.
Com. Tis best to give him way ; he leads himselt 295
Gon. My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
Glou. Alack ! the night comes on, and the high winds Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about There's scarce a bush.
Reg, Oh, sir, to wilful men
The injuries that they themselves procure 300
Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors. He is attended with a desperate train ;
288. And\ He Coll. (MS). wiU Qq, Pope, Theob. Warb. Johns. 290. Gon.] Duke. Qq. 293. WhUher\ Whether F,F,.
purposed^ pu/po^d Q,. 294. whi/her] whether Qq, F,F,.
290,291. So,.,Gloueester f] One line, 295. Com.] Re. Q,. Reg. Q..
Qq. ^est] good Qq.
292. Com.] Reg. Qq. 297. h^h'l ¥(+, Cap. Knt, ColL
Foffov^d] Pope. FoUorved Qq Dyce i, Sch. bieak Qq et cet
Ff, Sch. 298, 299. Do».buih\ One line, Qq.
Re-enter...] As in Dyce. Enter... 298. r^gU\ rujfel Q,. rujfell Q^
(after line 291), QqFf. Re-enter... (after nmU Pope, Han. Jen. rustle Cap. Ec.
line 291), Gup. 299. icarce'\ not Qq, Jen. 293, 294. rage„MU wUl\ rage^ and
nominative to * hath put.' Dycb (ed. ii) marks the absorption of ^ in < hath' by an apostrophe. See II, ii, 114.
289. particular] Wright : For himself, for his own sake. Compare Ani, and Cleop, IV, ix, 20; where <in thine own particular' means as far as yon youiself are concerned. See, also, AU^s Well, II, v, 66.
296. stay] Haluwbll : * Stomie begins ' is here a MS stage-direction in a copy of the fiist edition of 1608, in the handwriting of one contemporary, or nearly so» with Sh.
302. train] Eccles : We are led to imagine, from a passage in Act III, that Lear's attendant knights had not yet anrived. Clarke: Regan's barefaced pre* fence,— insisting on speaking of her old father as still attended by a laige train of
1 66 KING LEAR [act ill. sc. L
And what they may incense him to, being apt 303
To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear.
Com. Shut up your doors, my lord ; 'tis a wild night; 305 My Regan counsels well. Come out o' th' storm.
\Ex€unt.\
ACT III
Scene I. A heath. Siorm sHtt, Enter Kent and a Gentleman, severaifym
Kent. Who's there, besides foul weather ? i
Gent. One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
Kent, I know you. Where's the king?
Gent. Contending with the fretful elements ; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 5
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main.
303. to] too Q,F,. severally] Ff. at fenerall doores. Qq.
305. wild] wil*d F|F^ meeting. Cap.
306. Regan] Reg Q,. I. Whds there] Whats here Q,. dth'] oth' F,F,. at'hq^. atk HTkat's heere Q,. What's here Cap.
Q;. Jen. IVho's here Mai. Steev. Bos. CoU.
[Exeunt.] Exeunt omnes. Q^ Sing. Wh. Ktly.
A heath.] Rowe. besides] befide Qq, Cap. Jen. Steev.
Storm still.] Om. Qq. A Storm is £c. Var. Coll. Sing. Ktly.
heard, with Thunder and Lightning. 4. elements] element Qq, Cap. Steev.
Rowe. Var.
followers, both in this speech and the one a little before, where she talks of there not being room for * the old man and his people,' while in reality he has with him only his faithful Kent and Fool, — is thoroughly in character with her brassy nature.
4. elementit J Element of the Qq is, as Capell says, the air alone. That the Ff are right, see III, ii, iC.
5. Bids] See II, iv, 287.
6. main] Capell : This is put, as every one sees, for— M< land; it is stiU a sea- term for it, and often us'd in that sense by old voyage-writers, from whom Sh. had it ; the sound pleas'd him ; and ht made no scruple of using it, well knowing it could not be mistaken. Wright : f Ueevens qur>tes from Bacon's Considerations touching a War with Spain (Life and Letters, ed. Spedding, vii, 490) : * In the year that fol- lowed, of 1589, we gave the Spaniards no rest, but turned challengers, and invaded the main of Spain ; ' where the context shows that he is not speaking of what was technically known as * the Spanish main,' but of the landing an army on the coast of Spain itself. In the very next page Bacon says : ' In the year 1596 was the second invasion that we made upon the main territories of Spain,' which shows clearly whal
ACTm.sai.] KING LEAR 1 67
That things might change or cease ; * tears his white hair, 7
* Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
* Catch in their fury, and make nothing of;
* Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 10
* The to-and-fro-conflifting wind and rain.
* This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
7-15. ttars...alL1 Om. Ff, Rowe. Cap.
10. II. Om. Pope, Han. 12. wAerein] in which Pope, Haa.
11. Uhand'frih€<mJU^ing\ Hyphens,
was meant by * the main' in the former passage. Delius doubts that this means the land ; the sense being rather that the curled waters swell above their own especial domain, the sea, and overflow the land. Jbnnens : Though all the editions have
* main,' it is very likely Sh. wrote moon^ which is much better, because it more strongly expresses (according to Shakespeare's custom) the confusion which Lear in his rage would have introduced into nature ; besides, < main ' is ambiguous, appli- cable to sea or land. The effect of overflowing the land is not so great nor so certain confusion; the sea often does that and returns to its usual bounds; whereas the swelling of the waters above the moon is entirely preternatural, and best answers the madness of bidding the wind blow the earth into the sea. According to Schmidt (Z/jT.), Sh. uses * main ' more frequently for the sea than for the land, but here clearly for the latter.
8, 9. Which . • . of] Heath : Which the impetuous blasts, with undisceming rage, catch in their fury, and scatter or disperse to nothing as fast as he tears it off. Deuvs, more correctly, interprets 'make nothing of as meaning to treat with irreverence ; as Schmidt says, it is the opposite to ' make much of.'
10. little world of man] There may be a reference here to the phraseology of the early astrologers, who were wont to call Man the microcosm, or ' the little world,' as containing in miniature the elements of the macrocosm, which is the universe, terrestrial and heavenly. See Cornelius Agrippa Magisehe PVerJke, ii, cap. 27 ; or Paracelsus Sagacis Philosophia, 1658, Lib. i, p. 532, a. In vol. ix of Dodsley*s Old Plays there is A Morall MasJke by Thomas Nabbes, called Microcosmus, 1637; in the commendatory verses both by Rich. Broome and Will. Cufaude, * man ' is spoken of as < the little world.' I am not sure that the macrocosm is not referred to by Gloucester in IV, vi, 133 : < O ruin*d piece of nature ! This great world shall so wear out to nought,' perhaps alluding to the bond which, as astrologera maintain, exists between the little world and the great world. In reference to the macrocosm, see notes on Faust, either in Hayward*s or Taylor's translation. — Ed.
10. out-8com] Steevens: I suspect we should read * ovLt-s/orm,* Compare Zavers' Complaint^ 7 : * Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain.'
12. cub-drawn] Pope: A bear drawn by nature to its young. Upton (p. 311, ed. i) : That is, having her cubs drawn from her, being robbed of her cubs. Wa&- BURTON : That is, a bear whose dugs have been drawn dry by its young. Even hunger and the support of its young, would not force the bear to leave her den on such a night. Steevens notes the recurrence of the same idea in As You Like &r. IV, ii, 115 and 127.
I68 KING LEAR [ACTiii.saL
* The lion and the belly-pinched wolf tj
* Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs^
* And bids what will take alL*
Kent. But who is with him ? 15
Gent. None but the Fool; who labours to out-jest His heart-strook injuries.
Kent. Sir, I do know you ;
And dare, upon the warrant of my note. Commend a dear thing to you. There is division. Although as yet the fiice of it is cover'd M
With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall ; Who have — ^as who have not, that their great stars Throned and set high ? — ^servants, who seem no less; Which are to France the spies and speculations
13. biliy-^fuhetT] Hyphen, Pope. 22-29. IVho kave.,.,„.furHisktngi ;"]
17. hiart'Strook'] F,F^, Cap. Knt, Sch. Om. Qq. In the margin. Pope, Haa hdart-ftrooke F,F,. heart ftrooU Qq. 22. thail tEr>b«f Rowe u+. hearUstmek Rowe ct ceL stars] Stars have Ktly.
i8. notel Arte or art Qq. Cap. MaL 23. Throned] Throned Ff. Throme
Steev. Bos. Theob. ii, Warb. Johns. Cap. Ec Dyce U.
19. Thereis] T^^r/j Pope +, Dyce u. Huds. ColL iii.
20. £r]Ff+,Cap.Sch. ^^Qqetcet %4/— ] il^Jl/Rowcii. high;
21. cunning] craft Pope. Han. Ff. high^ Rowe i.
15. take all] Schmidt : An exclamation of despair, like « Lucifer take all ' ; ■ • shame take all/ &c. ; also, apparently, by players when staking all on a single card. < Wouldst thou fight well ?' asks Anthony of Enobarbus, and the latter replies * I'll strike, and cry Take all.' French Va tout!
18. my note] Johnson : My observation. Capell (who here followed the Qq) explains art as the ' art of manners and face^judging, skill in knowledge of men.* Malone quotes as in favour of the Qq, Macb, I, iv, 11, 12. Hudson : But it ap* pears Kent * knows ' his man, and therefore has no occasion to use the art or sklU in question.
19. dear] See I, iv, 266.
23. who seem no less] Capell supposes that this means servants that seem as great as themselves, servants in high place. Deuus, however, interprets it as servants who seem to be no less, or no other, than what they are — ^namely, servants*
24. speculations] Johnson {Diet.) : Examiner, spy. The word is found no- where else, and is probably here misprinted for speculators, [This conj. was adopted by Singer (ed. ii), and Hudson.] Collier (ed. ii) : Spectators is the word substituted by the (MS). * Speculations ' cannot well on any account be right, while spectators completes both meaning and metre ; of course, the emphasis in spec- tators must not here be placed on the second syllable. See Schmidt {Lex.), p. 142I9 for a list of over sixty instances in Sh. of the use of the abstract for the concrete, to which * discretion,' U, iv, 145, may be added.
Acrm,ScL] KING LEAR 169
Intelligent of our state. What hath been seen, 25
Either in snufis and packings of the dukes.
Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
Against the old kind king, or something deeper.
Whereof perchance these are but furnishings ;
* But true it is, from France there comes a power 30
* Into this scatter'd kingdom ; who already,
* Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
* In some of our best ports, and are at point
25. iiaU.'l Ff-l-,Sch. staU; Stecv. 31-3$. Into,„far\ As in Pope. Four
•t cct. lines, ending negHgenc€.,.Ports^Jbanner
AatA] have Pope ii. ..,fam in Qq.
27. havi] hath F,. 31. scatier'd'\ fcatieridCl^. fcaiterd
2g. fiiruishings;'\C9L^,fiimishiMgS'^ Q^. shaUet'd Han. scathed Warb.
Rowe-h. Jumijhings, Ff, Johns, ^our* 32. havi^ hath Jen.
ishings. Coll. (MS). feet^ fee Q,, Johns. Jen. sa Q,.
30-^. Bui...you.1 Om. Ff, Rowe. sea Pope,Theob. Han. jast Warb. foot
3a But"] And Han. Cap. Ec.
25. InteUigent] Johnson {Diet,) : Giving information. Steevens : What fol- lows are the circumstances in the state of the kingdom, of which he supposes the spies gave France the intelligence. Schmidt cites also III, v, 9, and III, vii, II.
25-29. What hath • • • furnishings] Schbcdt : Whether these incomplete sen« fences are due to the poet, or to the style in which the scene has been transmitted to OS, cannot be decided ; lines 22-29 are lacking in the Qq> and from 30-42 in the Ff, and it is easily conceivable that between 29 and 30 there were other lines which have been omitted in both texts.
26. snuffs] Wright : Quarrels. Nares : To tahe in snuff is to be angry, to take offence.
26. packings] Steevens: Underhand contrivances. [See Ham, III, iv, 211.] 29. furnishings] Johnson: What we now call colours, external pretenses. Steevens : A furnish anciently signified a sample. So in the Epistle before Greene's Groats-worth of Wiite : ' For to lend the world a furnish of witte she layes her owne to pawne.' Staunton : Steevens's illustration from Greene is not con- clusive. Hudson : That is, whereof these things are but the trimmings or append* ages, not the thing itself, but only the circumstances or furniture oil the thing. Wright : In Scotland the trimmings of a lady's dress are called ' furnishings.'
31. scatter'd] Johnson : Divided, unsettled, disunited. Schmidt : Sh. does not elsewhere use the word in thb sense. Perhaps Hanmer's shattered is right.
32. feet] Upton (p. 195, ed. ii) suggests //a/— that is, secretly situated, or lodged, or perhaps see for the Latin sedes^ which is used by Douglas in his version of Virgil, and by Chaucer, and which still survives in < a Bishop's see.' Schmidt : This ex* pression is akin to the language of the time, when fo^td meant the same •» ianded.
33. at point] See I, iv, 319.
I70 KING LEAR [actiii,sc.L
* To show their open banner. Now to you ;
^ If on my credit you dare build so far 35
* To make your speed to Dover, you shall find
* Some that will thank you, making just report
* Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
* The king hath cause to plain.
* I am a gentleman of blood and breeding, 40
* And from some knowledge and assurance ofier
* This office to you.*
Gent I will talk further with you.
Kent Nch, do not
For confirmation that I am much more
Than my out-wall, open this purse and take 45
What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia, — As fear not but you shall, — show her this ring. And she will tell you who that fellow is That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm 1 I will go seek the king.
Gent Give me your hand ; 50
Have you no more to say ?
Kent Few words, but, to eflfeft, more than all yet;
3$. eridi£\ eredite Q,. 43* further] farther Qq.
38. bemadding] madding VopttHui. 44. /am] /Qq.
39-^42. 7^.., you,] Lints tnd gentle- 47, fear] doubt Q^.
man,„Jnow/edgeand,.,you, Cap. this] Ma/Rowe-t*.
41, 42. And..,you.] As in Jen. The 48. tha/] Ff Jen. Knt, Coll. Del. Wh.
first line ends ajfurance Qq. Ktly, Sch. this Rowe + . your Qq et cec.
asiurance^,„.you^ assurance of 50,51. Give^,aayf] One line, Qq.
you^ Offer this office, Pope+. Assur- 52-55* Four lines, ending to„»ffiund
once of you, offer this office to you. Cap. ...M&r — .„other, Sch.
43. /will] rU Popc+.
35, 36. so . . . To] See I, iv, 36; II, iv, ii.
43. I . • • you] Deuus : This implies a courteous postponement or dismissal of A request ; this explains Kent's reply.
48. fellow] Schmidt : That is, companion. It is only by its use in this sense that we can understand Malvolio's blunder ; < let this fellow be looked to : fellow I not Malvolio, nor after my degree, but fellow.' As a general rule this word is found in this sense joined to a possessive pronoun, and therefore many editors prefer *your fellow' of the Qq.
52. to efifect] Abbott, § 186 : The use of to meaning. < with a view to, * for an end,' &c., is of course stiU common before verbs, but the Elizabethans used t9 in this sense before noons.
ACT ni, sc. ii.] KING LEAR \^\
That when we have found the king, — in which your pain 53
That way, I'll this, — ^he that first lights on him
Holla the other. \Exeunt severally. 5 5
Scene II. Another part of the heath. Storm still.
Enter LsAR and Fool.
Lear. Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks 1 rage I blow I You catara£ls and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our steeples, drown'd the cocks 1 You sulphurous and thought-executing fires. Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts, $
53-55. Three lines, ending King,... blow! Cap. conj. (in Corrigenda, vol. x)«
lights.„oiker. Qq. 2-9. Eight lines, ending drencht,..
53* 54* in,,Jhu^ Ff. lU this way^ and»Jo„.hiad^,^t»,Matures...,maki...
you that Qq, Jen. in which you taht man, Qq.
That way, I this Pope, Theob. Warb. 2. ca/ara/lsJcaterichfsQ^. caruriehes
for which you take That way I this Q^
Han. Johns. hurricanoes"] IfyrricandsF^, Hur*
54. way^ ttwy/ Steev. Ec. Var. Knt. ricands F,F F^. Hireanios Qq.
55. Holld\ hoUaw QqF^. Halloo 3. our] Ft. The Qq, Jen.
Warb. Johns. drowned] drownd Q,. drown F,
[Exeunt severally.] Theob. Ex- F,F^, Rowe. drowne F..
eunt. QqFf. 4. sulphurous] Cap. fulphirous Qq.
Scene ii.] Scena Secunda. Ff. (Scsena Sulphurous Ff + , Sch.
FJ. Scene continued by Rowe, Theob. thought-executing] No hyphen, Qq.
Another pait...] Cap. 5. Vaunt-couriers] Pope. vaunt-
Storm still.] Om. Q:|. currers Qq. Vaunt'Curriors Ff. Km/-
t. toinds] windes F,F,. wind Qq, couriers Cap.
Jen. Mai. Steev. Bos. Sing. of] Ff+, Cap. Dyce i, Sch. to
rage I blow I] blow! rage I and Qqetcet.
53, 54. in • . . this] Wright : In which your pain (lies) That way, I'll (go) this.
Scene II] This scene is quoted at length, with comments of admiration, in Smith's Longinus, p. 108.
2. cataracts] Moberly : Probably in the sense in which we have isart^liaKroi duPpoc in Greek.
2. hurricanoes] Dyce: Water-spouts. See T^o, and Cres, V, ii, 172.
4. thought-executing] Johnson: Doing execution with rapidity equal to thought. Moberly : This idea seems rather to be involved in the compound than expressed by it; as < thought-executing' must mean * executing tfa^ thought of Him who casts you.'
5. Vaunt-couriers] Steevens : It originally meant the foremost scouts of an army. In Jarvis Markham's English Arcadia, 1607 : 'As soon as the first vancurrer encountered him face to face.' M alone : Compare * Jove's lightnings, the precursors o' the dreadful thunderclaps.'— 7>ot/. I, ii, 201. HimTER (ii, 270) calls attention
172 KING LEAR [ACTni,SC.iL
Singe my white head ! And thou, all-shaking thunder, 6
Strike flat the tliick rotundity o* th' world ! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man t
Fool. O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is lo better than this rain-water out o' door. Good nuncle, in ; ask thy daughters' blessing; here's a night pities neither wise men nor fools.
^. Singe\Jtng^^. SindgeYU to, ii, Aofy-water,,,jwn-iaa/€r} No
all-shaking] No hyphen, Qq« hyphens, Qq.
7. Sirikel /mite Qq, Glo+y Mob. II. this rain'Water\ the Xain-water ^th'] of the (in, FjF^, Rowe, Pope i, Han. the rait$m
8. moulds] Mold Qq^Vapc-i-tJetuEc^ tvo/^rr Pope ii+. germens] Cap. Germains, Qqt tf' door] a doore Qq.
Rowe, Pope, germaines F,F,. ger* 12. ask] Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han, Cap.
manes F,F^. germins Theob.+» ColL Knt, Dyce i, Sch. andaske Qq et ceU Wh. Cam. daughter^] Daughter* Fy
9. make] makes Ff, Rowe, Ktly, Sch. pities] that pities Pope+ . 10-13. Four lines, ending hou/e,.,. neither] nether Q,. neyther Q,.
door„MeJling,„foole. in Qq. 13. nun nor fools] man norfooU Qq»
ID. court holy-water] eourt-kofy-water Jen. Glo. + , Mob. Rowe+.
to the use of this * veiy rare word ' in Harsnet, where one of the Peckhams is called * the harbinger, the host, the steward, the vaunt-courier, the sacrist, and the pander' to the priests. Wright: Cotgrave gives, 'Avant-coureur: m. A forerunner, Auant curror.*
7. rotundity] i>ELn}s: This, in connection with what follows, suggests not only the sphere of the globe, but the roundness of gestation.
8. Crack . • . once] Theobald : Crack nature's mould and spiU all the seeds of matter that are hoarded within it See the same thought in fVint, Tale* IV, iv, 489. For * germens,' t. e, seeds, see Macb, IV, i, 59.
8. spill] Steevens : To destroy. [See Ham, IV, v, 20.]
10. court holy-water] Steevens : Ray, among his proverbial phrases, p. 184, mentions ' court holy-water* to mean fair words. The French have the same phrase : Eau benite de cour, Malone: Cotgrave has *Eau heniste de Cour, Court holy water; complements, faire words, flattering speeches, glosing, soothing, palpable cogging.' Florio gives * ManteUijatare, to flatter, to faune, to claw, to sooth vp, to cog and foist with, to glue one court holie water.' Singer cites Florio : ' Gonfiare alcunOf to soothe or flatter one, to set one a gogge or with faire words bring him into a fooles Paradise, to fill one with hopes, or Court-holy-water.' [Wright follows Singer in giving this definition from Florio, but neither of them mentions the date of the edition. In the edition of 1598 the definition does not give < court holy- water;' instead it reads <to perswade one that the moone is made of greene cheese;' Dare Vallodola is there defined *to giue one court-hollie water, to giue a gudgeon.' — ^Ed.]
12. pities] Although the omission of the relative is common enough (see AbbotTj
ACrxn, SC.U.1 KING LEAR 173
Lear. Rumble thy bellyful I Spit, fire I spout, ram I Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters, 1 5
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness ; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children. You owe me no subscription ; then let fall Your horrible pleasure ; here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak and despised old man. 20
But yet I call you servile ministers, That will with two pernicious daughters join Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head So old and white as this. Oh 1 Oh 1 'tis foul i
Fool. He that has a house to put's head in has a good 2$
head-piece.
The cod-piece that will house
Before the head Itas any. The head and he shall louse;
t4. hettxfid^ Mai. belly full QqFf. Sch. haue.,.ioin'd Qq et cet.
Spit^ fire I spout, rain I] Cap. 23. high-engender'd^ high engmdered
/pit fire, /pout raine, QqFf {Jpcwt Q^. F,F,). battUs] BattaiUs F,F^ Batteh
16. /tfjr] /fl/»^ Qq. F3. battel q^. battellQ^.
17. hingdom] hingdoms Johas, 24. Oh/ Oh/] Theob. Warb. Johns. 18-24. lAnes end horrible.„and„/er^ Jen. Ktly. O, ho/ Ff, Rowe, Pope,
ffile..,ioinW,„white,./oule, in Qq. Han. Sch. O Qq. O, O, Cap. et cet.
iS, subscription] submission Pope, 25. /K/'x]/»/^irQq,Mal.Steey.Bos.
Han. Knt, Del. Sing. Ktly.
then] why then Qq, Jen. Steev. 26. [Sings. Cap.
£c. Var. 27-34. As in Johns. Four lines, Ff.
22. ttnlL..join] Ff, Rowe, Cap. Knt, Prose, Qq.
CoU. i, Del. Sing. Dyce i, Wh. Ktly, 28. head has any,] head, has any Qq.
5 244), in dignified speech, yet here in the FooVs speeches this and many other coY« loquialisms are to be expected.
16. MoBERLY calls attention to the similarity of thought in the song, < Blow, blow, thou winter wind,' in As You Like It.
18. subscription] Upton (p. 292): Allegiance, submission. See I, ii, 24. Schmidt : Used nowhere else in Sh. On the other hand, the verb is frequently found meaning to yield, to pay respect, to submit to something.
19. slave] Warburton, insensible to the drift of these lines, changed this to * Brave.* ' That is, I defy your worst rage, as he had said just before.* Hbath, in exposing the foUy of this change, thus paraphrases : < Here I stand, submitting to every indignity you can put upon me. Do with me what you please. For I am « a poor, infirm, weak and despised old man." But yet, notwithstanding my submissioa to your power, I have a right to expostulate and to call you servile ministers.'
27. cod-piece] Dyce {Gloss,) x An ostentatiously indelicate part of the male 15*
!74 ^^NG LEAR [act III, sc. iL
So beggars marry many. 30
Tlie man that makes Ids toe
What lie his heart should make Shall of a com cry woe^ And turn Ids sleep to wake. For there was never yet lair woman but she made mouths 35 in a glass.
Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience. I will say nothing.
Enter Kent. Kent. Who's there?
31. The man] That man FjF^+. Sla. GI0.+, Coll. iii, Sch. After /«-
33. Shall of] Jfiall haue Qq, Jen. tience^ line 37, Q,. ASttx gla/s^ line 36,
37. pattern"] patience F F^. Ff ct cet.
Scene III. Pope +, Jen. 39. Who's] IVho/eQ^.
Enter Kent.] As in Q,, Dyce,
dress, which was put to several uses,— to stick pins in, to carry the purse in, &c. &c. [See line 40.]
30. many] Johnson : That is, a beggar marries a wife and lice. Mason : Rather, so many beggara marry.
31, 32. The . . . make] Capell : By making a < toe ' of one's 'heart' is signifyd — the making that our last object which should be our first, and under it is shadow*d the king's folly in surrend'ring his power; and this folly he pins upon him still faster by observing — ^that he snrrender'd it to women. Eccles thinks that these lines are but a repetition of the same * immodest allusion ' as is contained in the first quatrain, * which turns upon the idea of housing,* But he thinks « a greater consistency of meaning' will be attained by reading head instead of 'heart.' White: Unless the Fool means that the man who keeps his toe as close as he should keep his counsel or the thoughts of his heart, I do not know what he means. [The meaning, if it be worth a search, seems to be this : A man who prefers or cherishes a mean member in place of a vital one shall suffer enduring pain where others would suffer merely a twinge. Lear had preferred Regan and Goneril to Cordelia. — Ed.]
35. Eccles hazards the remarkable conjecture that this line is * descriptive of that sort of treachery which the power of beauty enables a woman more readily to prac- tise, and which is shewn by her first addressing a man with kind speeches and expressions of regard, and then turning suddenly round and making mouths at his fi^re represented in a looking-glass. — Possibly an allusion might be designed to an affected disrelish of the liquor contained in a drinking-glass, while inwardly, and in reality, to use a common expression, she takes it to heart, supposing falsehood and deceit to be the general concomitant of beauty.' Moberly : For women, daughters included, are apt to have little faulty ways. [This is the Fool's way of diverting attention after he has said something a little too pointed ; the idea of a very pretty woman making faces in a looking-glass raises a smile. For the expression * making mouths,' see Ham. II, ii, 347 ; IV, iv, 50.— Ed.]
37, 38. Steevens : So Perillus, in the old play, speaking of Leir: <But he, the
ACT ni, sc. ii.] KING LEAR 1 75
Fool. Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a 40 wise man and a fool.
Kent Alas, sir, are you here ? Things that love night Love not such nights as these ; the wrathful skies Gallow the very wanderers of the dark,
And make them keep their caves ; since I was man, 45
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder. Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never Remember to have heard. Man's nature cannot carry Th' affliflion nor the fear.
Lear. Let' the great gods,
40. cod'pUce] eodpis Qq 42. are you] fit you Qq, Jen.
41. wueman\ tc^^Mii QqF^F^ Sch. 44. Gallow tke\galhwt the (^, Golly m/e-man FjF^. (he Jen.
42-60. Alas,.,»jinHing,'] Lines end wandirersl wnm/frerQq.
keere ^,..jAe/e ;..,o/ lAe.„caues,,.,fire,,., 45. maJke] maAes Q<{,
grones of„„remember.,„cttry„„forci„.. 47. never] n^re Q,. nere Q,.
Jread/ull„„now,,.JAee,>,IustUe,..Mnd,„. 49. fear] force Qq, Pope, Theob.
inceftiouSt couert,.,.Jife, centers,.*,.. Han. Warb.
grace,.„finning, Qq.
myrrour of mild patience, Pats up all wrongs, and never gives reply.* [See Ap» pendix, p. 396.]
40. grace] Steevens : In Shakespeare's time, * the king's grace ' was the nsnal expression.
40. cod-piece] DoucB: Sh. has with some humour applied this name to the Fool, who, for obvious reasons, was usually provided with this unseemly part of dress in a more remarkable manner than other persons.
42. are you here] Jennens, following the Qq, says that the reading of the Ff seems to be * an alteration made for the ease of the actors, that he who acted Lear might not have the trouble of sitting down on the ground, and rising again ; but if propriety of action take place, what can be more proper than Lear's seating himself, after his last speech ?' Jennens inserts a stage-direction to that effect.
44. Oallow] Wright : That is, terrify. < Gaily ' in the same sense is still used as a provincialism. See Jennings on the Dialects in the West of England. In the Glossary to Palmer's Devonshire Dialogue, * Galled ' is explained as ' frightened.' In the Encyclopeedia Britannica (eighth ed.), art. Mammalia, p. 232, col. 2, we read of the sperm whale that * when frightened it is said by the sailors to be ** gallied," probably galled.' But this is an error. Huntley (Glossary of the Cotswold Dialect), gives * Gallow. To alarm; to frighten.' There is an Anglo-Saxon word gcBlan^ to terrify, from which it is probably derived. Herbert Coleridge {Philological Soc. Trans., 1858, p. 123) gives a derivation, proposed by M. Metivier of Guernsey, from the dialect of that island — ^viz. Egaluatr, signifying to dazzle,— ^^/owfr, a meaning which, as Coleridge says, hardly applies to the present passage. Vbnables [Atkenceum, 13 Nov. '75) says this word is still used in the Isle of Wight.
49. affliction . . • fear] Hudson : * Affliction ' for infliction / the two being then
176 KING LEAR [act iii, sc iL
That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, 50
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp'd of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand ;
Thou perjured, and tliou simular of virtue
That art incestuous. Caitiff, to pieces shake, • 55
That under covert and convenient seeming
Has praftised on man's life. Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents and cry
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man
50. pudder] Ff, Rowe, Theob. Warb. 55. io pieces shake] in peeces Jkah
Knt, Del. Sing. Ktly. Pawther Q,. Qq. shake to pieces Pope+.
Thundring Q,, Pope, Han. Cap. po* 56. ccvert and convenient] cover of
ther Johns, et cet. convivial Warb. conj.
54. perjured] perjure Theob. Han. 57. Has] Yi {Ha's F,), Rowe, Sch. Warb. Johns. Coll. iii. Haft Qq et cet.
and thou] thou Warb. 58. concealing continents] concealed
simular] fimular man Qq, Fope, centers Qq.
Cap. GI0.+, Mob. ay] askVo^-^^
55. incestuous] inceftious Qq,
equivalent. Man's nature cannot endure the infliction, nor even the fear of it. So, in the Prayer-Book, * Defend us from all dangers and mischiefs, and from the fear of them.*
50. pudder] Stebvens : So tn Beau, and Fl.'s Scornful Lady [II, ii, p. 35, ed. Dyce] ; ' Some fellows would have cried now, and have curs'd thee. And fain out with their meat, and kept a pudder.' [It b to me a sufficient reason for preferring < pudder' to pother^ that Charles Lamb preferred it; in his remarks on this play it b the word he uses. — Ed.]
54. perjured] Theobald, with much probability, amended this \^ perjure on the analogy of its use in Lovds Lab, Lost, IV, iii, 47 : ' he comes in like a perjure wear ing papers,' and also in The Troublesome Reign of King John : ' But, now black- spotted Perjure as he is.' It is also the reading of Collier's (MS). Where the QqFf all agree, and the sense is clear, change seems needless, although //i^Mr^ with • simular' gives greater symmetry to the line.
54. simular] Collier : A 'simular' is a simulator; possibly we ought to spell it simuler,
56. convenient seeming] Johnson: That is, appearance such as may promote his purpose to destroy. Delius dissents, and thinks it means rather befitting hypocrisy.
57. practised] Dyce : To use arts or strategems, to plot.
58. continents] Johnson : That which contains or encloses. [See ffam. IV, iv,64.]
59. summoners] Steevens: The officers that summon offenders before a tribunaL 59, 60. I . . . sinning] Tyrwhitt: CEdipus, in Sophocles, represents himself in
the same light : ' rd / Ipya luv HeKofMf kart ftakkofv ^ SeSpaxbraJ — Colon, [line 866, ed. Dindorf.]
ACT III. sc. u.] KING LEAR 1 77
More sinn'd against than sinning.
Kent. Alack, bare-headed? 60
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hbvel ; Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest; Repose you there ; while I to this hard house — More harder than the stones whereof 'tis raised ; Which even but now, demanding after you, 65
Denied ipe to come in — return, and force llieir scanted courtesy.
Lear. My wits begin to turn.: —
Come on, my boy ; how dost, my boy ? art cold ? I am cold myself. — ^Where is this straw, my fellow?— The art of our necessities is strange, 70
60. Jtitif V] find Qq. hard then is thefione Qq et cet thanl their Qq. 65. youl me Qq.
60-67. Alach...courtesy.1 'Prose, Qq. 67. unts de^'n"] wit begins Qq.
63. whilel whi(/i Q<{, 69. /am] /*w Pope +, Jen. DyceiL 64-66. Aforie,.,in} Fkrentbesis, Ff. this] the Theob. Warb. Jobns.
64. harder„Mones} Ff, Rowe, Knt, 70-72. Iadss ta^ cttn.„paoref,.Mart, Del. Dyce, Sta. Ktly, Glo. + , Mob. Scb. Qq.
61. Gracious my lord] See Abbott, $ 13.
65. even but now] Abbott, $ 38 : Even now with as is applied to an action that has been going on for some long time and stiii continues, the emphasis being laid on * now.' In Sh. the emphasis is often to be laid on ' even,' and ' even now ' means « exactly or only now.'
65. demanding] Wright: 'Demand' and 'require' are both used formerly in the simple sense of * ask,' without the further idea which the words have now ac- quired of asking with authority. See Temp. I, ii, 139 ; Cym, III, vi, 92.
67-73. BucKNiLL (p. 195): The import of this must be weighed with IV, vi, too-104, when Lear is incoherent and full of delusion. Insanity arising from mental and moral causes often continues in a certain state of imperfect developement ; ... a state of exaggerated and perverted emotion, accompanied by violent and irregular conduct, but unconnected with intellectual aberration ; until some physical shock is incurred, — ^bodily illness, or accident, or exposure to physical suffering; and then the imperfect type of mental disease is converted into perfect lunacy, characterised by more or less profound affection of the intellect, by delusion or incoherence. This is evidently the case in Lear, and although we have never seen the point referred to by any writer, and have again and again read the play without perceiving it, we cannot doubt from these passages, and especially from the second, in which the poor madman's imperfect memory refers to his suffering in the storm, that Sh. contem- plated this exposure and physical suffering as the cause of the first crisis in the mal- ady. Our wonder at his profound knowledge of mental disease increases, the more carefully we study his works ; here and elsewhere he displays with prolific careless^ ness a knowledge of principles, half of which would make the reputation of a mod* em psychologist.
M
178 KING LEAR [act m. sc. i.
And can make vilde things precious. — Come, your hovel — 71 Poor Fool and knave, I have one part in my heart That's sorry yet for thee.
Fool. He that has and a little tiny wit^
With heigh-ho^ the wind and ifu rain^ 75
Must Make content with his fortunes fit, Tliaugh the rain it raineth every day. Lear. True, boy. — Come, bring us to this hovel
\Exeunt Lear and Kent. Fool. This is a brave night to cool a courtezan. I '11 speak % prophecy ere I go : 80
When priests are more in word than matter; When brewers mar their malt with water;
71. Antfl Ff, Rowe, Knt, Sta. Sch. 75. kngk-ho\ hey ho Qq. keigkUh^
That Qq ct cct. ^J^^a' ^ ^^^» ^» ^P- «*»"]• MS.»
vUiie\ Q,F,F^ Jen. viU QaF^F^ rain] rain in his way Johns, conj..
Rowe, Sch. s/t7^ Pope et cet. 77. TkougA:] Ff + , Jen. Knt, DeL
1\^^^. your hcvet. Poor Fool^ your Sing. Dyce, Su. Ktly, Sch. for Qq
kouel: PoortFoole^ Ff. you houeUpoon^ ct ceL
Foote Qq. 78. hoy^ Ff, Rowe, Knt, Dyce i, Stm.
12, J Move om part in] I kaue ou€ Sch. my^vM/^^Qq et cet
part of Qq. Pve one thing im Pope. hevel,] houeltt Q,.
Fve one string in Han. Waib. Fve [Exeunt...] Cap. Exit. FT. Om.
one part in Theob. Johns. Jen. Dyce ii. Qq.
73. Thafs sorry] That/orrowa Qq. 79-95- Om. Qq.
74. [Sings. Cap. 79, 8a Tiltr...^ .-] MaL Two lines 74-77. Prose in Qq. Ff +, Cap.
74. and] Om, Qq, Cap. Jen. Steev. 79. This is] *7ts Pope+.
Ec. Var. CoU. Del. Wh. an Theob. courtexan] Cnrtizan Ft
Warb. Johns. 8a ere] or ere Pope, Theob. Haiu
titt/f tiny] little tynie Pope, little or two ere Warb.
/tWQq. littietyneYU little tyne Rowe. St. word] words FJF^-k-.
73. 8ony] White : The reading of the Qq is certainly not inferior.
74. Steevens : See the song in Thtelflh Night, V, i, 398. [This may have been the same song, but changed by the Fool to suit the occasion; the music of the Twelfth Night song will be foupd in Cbappell i, 225. Will it be believed that Gif- ford ( Jonson*s Worhs, vi, 266) called this Twelfth Night song < silly trash ' ?~Ed.]
74. and] According to Abbott, §§ 95, 96, this is used emphatically, with and without participles, for also, even, and thai too, < We still use emd that to give em- phasis and call attention to an additional circumstance — e, g, *' He was condemned and that unheard." Here it means •• a little and that a very little " '
81, et sef,] White : I believe this is an interpolation. This loving, faithful crea- ture would not let his old master go off half-crazed in that storm, that he might stop and utter such pointless and uncalled-for imitation of Chaucer. The absence of this prophecy from the edition of 1608, is corroborative evidence that it is an interpolation;
ACT III, sc. ii.] KING LEAR 1 79
When nobles are their tailors' tutors ; 83
No heretics bum'd, but wenches' suitors ;
When every case in law is right ; 85
for the passage b one whicb, if it had been spoken at the time when the copy for that edition was obtained, whether surreptitiously or not, would hardly have been omitted. CowDEN Clarke : This prophecy is clearly a scrap of ribaldiy tacked on, by the actor who played the Fool, to please * the barren spectators' ; just one of those instances of irrelevant and extemporaneous jesting to which Sh. himself, through his character of Hamlet, so strongly objects. The fact of the Fool's present speech occurring after Lear has left the stage alone serves to condemn it as spurious. KoPPEL (p. 79), on the other hand, thinks that this speech was added by Sh. after the text which we have in the Qq was written; * the poet was generous to this, the most amiable of all his Fools, and even added somewhat to his part.' Warburton discerned not one, but two, prophecies here : * the first, a satyrical description of the present manners as fature; and the second, a satyrical description of future manners, which the corrup- tion of the present would prevent from ever happening. Each of these prophecies has its proper inference or deduction ; yet by an unaccountable stupidity, the first editors took the whole to be one prophecy,. and so jumbled the two contraiy in- ferences together.' Accordingly, Warburton transposed lines 93, 94 to follow line 84; that concludes the first prophecy, and Warburton points the allusion to the pres- ent time by adding parenthetically after them, < 1. e. Now.* The remaining lines compose the second prophecy, and at the end of the last line Warburton adds, ' t. e, Veyer,* Warbuxton's change was followed in the text by Hanmer, Johnson, Jen- NSNS, and Eccles. Capell grants Warbuxton's conclusions, but denounces the transposition of the lines as < destructive of humour, and of the speaker's wild cha- racter which disclaims regularity.' Capell's explanation is that Sh. wrote two speeches for the Fool, ' one comprising the whole of that prophecy which relates to things prneni; it's conclusion a waggery [1. tf., I suppose, the line: ' No heretics bum'd, &c.], at which the speaker might face about and be going, but return to speak the lines about Merlin, which lines belong with equal propriety to the prophecy about things that will not be » . A\.v^ conceiv'd, further, that these seperate [mV] prophecies were at first spoken seperately, or on seperate nights; or one drop'd for the other, and we judge the drop'd one the first ; that both were found in his manuscripts, standing irregularly; and took their form from the players, who might even present them so after their author's death ' Stbevens refers to Puttenham's Arte ofPoesie, 1589, as containing these lines. [See p. 232, ed. Arber. < Sir Geffrey Chaucer^ father of our English Poets, hath these verses following the distributor [a rhetorical term] : When faith failes in Priestes sawes. And Lords hestes are holden for lawes. And robberie is tane for purchase. And lechery for solace. Then shall the Realme of Albion Be brought to great confusion.' The original, which is called Chaucer^ s Propkeey, may be found in vol. vi, p. 307, ed. Morris. See Brown's note, I, iv, 91. — Ed.]
83. tutors] Warburton : That is, invent fashions for them. Deuus queries if it should not be taken in the larger meaning of taking care of their tailors, and not mining them by failing to pay their bills. Schmidt says it merely means : When nobles arc the teachers of their tailors, and better understand the handicraft.
84* No • • . suitors] Johnson : The disease to which wenches' suitors are por^ ticnlarly exposed was called, in Shakespeare's time, the brenning or burning.
l8o KING LEAR [act in, sc iiL
No squire in debt, no poor knight; 86
When slanders do not live in tongues. Nor cutpurses come not to throngs ; When usurers tell their gold i' th' field, And bawds and whores do churches build, 90
Then shall the realm of Albion Come to great confusion. Then comes the time, who lives to see't, That going shall be used with feet This prophecy Merlin shall make ; for I live before his time. 95
{Exit.
Scene III. A Room in Gloucester's Castle. Enter Gloucester and Edmund.
Clou. -Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing. When I desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the use of mine own house ; charged me, on pain of perpetual displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for him, or any way sustain him. 5
Edm. Most savage and unnatural !
Glou. Go to; say you nothing. There is division be- tween the dukes, and a worse matter than that : I have re- ceived a letter this night; 'tis dangerous to be spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet ; these injuries the king 10
86. nor no] and no Warb. Johns. A Room...] Cap. An Apartment
87. not live] nor live F,. in Gloster's Castle. Rowe.
88. Nor]AndVo^-¥. Enter...] Enter Glofler, and the Baflard 91, 92. As in Pope. One line, Ff. with lights, Qq (Glocefter Q,).
93, 94. Then ./•//.] Transferred to I-18. Prose, Ff. Twenty lines, Qq.
follow line 84, by Warb. Han. Johns. 3. took] took me Q,.
Jen. Ec 4. perpetual] Ff + , Cap. Knt, Dyce i,
93. see V] see it MaL Del. ii, Sch.^ their Qq. their perpetual
95. I Hue] I do live (reading line 95 Jen. et cet.
as two lines) FjF^+, Cap. $. w] Ff +, Knt, Sch. nor Qq et cet
SCKNB m.] Scaena Tertia Ff (Sceua 6. and] Om. Rowe ii.
FjFJ. ScsNE n. Rowe. Scene iv. 7. r^i/r/ w]M/r/'jflQq, Jen. GI0.+.
Popc+, Jen. between] betwixt Qq, GI0.+.
95. before his time] Moberly : As, according to the legend. King Lear was contemporary with Joash, King of Judah. [See Holinshed, in Appendix, p. 3S4.]
5. or] Schmidt : Compare Meas, for Meas, IV, ii, 108 : < neither in time, matter, or other circumstance ; ' l Hen. VI: I, iii, 78 : < not to wear, handle, or use any sword.'
ACT in, GC. ui.] KING LEAR l8l
now bears will be revenged home ; there is part of a power 1 1 already footed; we must incline to the king. I will look him, and privily relieve him ; go you, and maintain talk with the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived ; if he ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed If I die for it, 1 5 as no less is threatened me, the king, my old master, must be relieved. There is strange thing^s toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful. \ExiU
Edm. This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke Instantly know, and of that letter too. 20
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me That which my iather loses ; no less than all. The younger rises when the old doth fall \ExU.
11. there w] ther is F,. Therms Q,, et cet.
Glo. Wr. Mob. Tker's Q,. 19-23. Lin«« «id Jhutif,,..d^/ermn^,
12. footed'^ landed Qq» Pope. ^Mffe^.faU^ in Qq.
look] Ff, Knt, I^ce i, Del. ii, 19. eourUsy^ forbid thee^ Theob. eur*
Sch. iookforVo^-k-* /?//§/ Qq et cet, tejie forbid thee, QcjJ^t eourtesie forbid
15. bed. -5^ Johns. ^/^,(^Ff,Rowei. thee Pope, Han. eourtay, forbid theet
bed; if Koweii-^-, Cap, bed, iAofigk Q<\. Huds.
bed. Though Glo. -f , Dyce ii, Hnds. Mob. 21 . draw m/\ draw to me Q^
for iti for V Q,. 22. loses] hofes QJ^^F^F^
17. is strange things] Ff, Rowe, Knt, 23. The] then Qq.
Dyce i, Sta. Sch. are strange things doth] doe Q.. do Q.. Pope + , Jen. isfome ftrange thing Qq
12. footed] Schmidt: Equivalent to landed^ as the Qq read; compare III, vii, 44 ; unless it mean on foot, as other editors explain it.
12. look] Schmidt: Compare Mer. Wives, IV, ii, 83: < I will look some linen for yonr head ' ; As You Like It, II, v, 34 : < He hath been all this day to look yon.'
17. toward] See II, i, 10.
19. forbid] This is, as Wright says, * forbidden;* the sentence means: This conrtesy or charity which you are going to show the king, and which has been for- bidden to you, the duke shall instantly know. Hudson finds great difficulty in understanding the meaning of the phrase * forbid thee,' which he interprets (using ' forbid' in the sense of * He shall live a man forbid' in Macbeth, I, iii, 2X) as equiv- alent to a curse upon thee / [Since the foregoing was written Hudson's separate edi- tion of Lear has appeared, in which, while adhering to his earlier interpretation and text, he concedes the possibility of the correctness of the present interpretation, bat asks, * does not this make the sense too tame ? ' — ^£d.] 16
l8a KING LEAR [act III, SC ir
Scene IV. The heath. Before a JioveL Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.
Kent Here is the place, my lord ; good my lord, enter; The tyranny of the open night's too rough For nature to endure. [Stortn sHlL
Lear. Let me alone.
Kent Good my lord, enter here.
Lear. Wilt break my heart?
Kent I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. 5
Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm Invades us to the skin ; so 'tis to thee ; But where the greater malady is fix'd The lesser is scarce felt Thou'dst shun a bear,
Scene iv.] Scena Qaarta Ff (Scsena 4. kere\ Om. Qq.
F,). Scene in. Rowe. Scene v. Wilt^ IViirt Theob. ii, Warb.
Pope +, Jen. Scene vi. Ec. (misprint). Johns.
The heath...] Glo. Part of the 5. Two lines in Ff.
Heath with a Hovel. Rowe. / kad'\ QqFf, Cap. Dyce, Wh. Sta.
1-3. ffer€..,€ndureJ\ Prose, Qq. GI0.+, Huds. Sch. /V Pope et cet.
a. of tht\ of Pope. 6. eontentiousl Umpeftiaus Q^. cru-
night^sX nights Q^. Untious Q,.
3. [Storm still.] Om. Qq. At the be- 7. skin; so ^tis} Rowe ii. skin, fo ginning of the Scene, Cap. Dyce, Wh. tis Qq. skin, fo: Uis F( (skinfo F,).
3,4. Lear. Let,„here,'\ Repeated by 9. TTiou^dst^ tkoud'ft Q.. thou
Johns. Steev. '73 (misprint). wouldft Q,.
Scene IV.] Coleridge : O, what a world's convention of agonies is here ! All external nature in a storm, all moral nature convulsed, — the real madness of Lear, the feigned madness of Edgar, the babbling of the Fool, the desperate fidelity of Kent, — surely such a scene was never conceived, before or since 1 Take it but as a picture for the eye only, it is more terrific than any which a Michael Angelo, inspired by a Dante, could have conceived, and which none but a Michael Angelo could have executed. Or let it have been uttered to the blind, the bowlings of nature would seem converted into the voice of conscious humanity. This scene ends with the first symptoms of positive derangement ; and the intervention of the fifth scene is particu- larly judicious, — the Interruption allowing an interval for Lear to appear in full mad- ness in the sixth scene.
2. the open] Walker ( Vers. 75) suggests that the e in * the ' be omitted before *open.'
4. heart ?] Steevens : I believe that Lear does not address this question to Kent» but to his own bosom. Perhaps, therefore, we should point the passage thus : < Wilt break, my heart ? ' The tenderness of Kent, indeed, induces him to reply, as to an interrogation that seemed to reflect on his own humanity.
Acrni,sc.iv.] KING LEAR 1 83
But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea lO
Thou'dst meet the bear i' th' mouth. When the mind's free
The body 's delicate ; the tempest in my mind
Doth front my senses take all feeling else
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude I
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand 15
For lifting food to't ? But I will punish home.
No, I will weep no more. In such a night
To shut me out? Pour on ; I will endure.
In such a night as this ? O Regan, Goneril I
Your old kind fether, whose frank heart gave all, — 20
Oh, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that !
Kent Good my lord, enter here.
Lear. Prithee, go in thyself; seek thine own ease; This tempest will not give me leave to ponder On things would hurt mie more. But Til go in. — 2%
10. thy\ they F^ 15. ihis JkamT} his hand FJP^, Rowe. lay] Hgkt F^ Rowe, F6pe. 16. to'i] toit Q^,
roaring] roring Q,. raging Q^ / wiU] PU Pope+.
Cap. Jen. Steer. Ec. V«r. Sing. Ktly, home] fure Qq.
GIo.+,Mob. I7»i8. In mch.,Midure:] Om. Qq,
11. ThwiM] ThotuTJt Qq. ending the lines fure ;„Jthis L„f other, ^ mind's] minds FJP^, lies,,.Jhat,
12. hodj^s] Rowe. bodies QqFT. 18, 19. outKJhis f] ota/..Jhis/ Cap. the] this Q,. ao. gave]gaueyou Qq, Jen. MaL Bos.
14. heats] beares Q^ Cam. Wr.
there. FiHaiisfgratitude f] Rowe. ^/»— ] aO-^ Rowe. aU^ QqFT.
there. Filial iugratitude^ FJF^. their 82. that/] that,— Sing. ii.
Jiliall ingratitude, Qq. there, Filiall enter here.] enter. Qq.
ingratitude, F,F,. there : filial ingrati- 23. thine cam] thy one Q.. thy owne
tude. Del Sch. there,'~fiUal ingrati' Q^ tudel Sing.ii.
12. delicate] Abbott, § 468 : Any unaccented syllable of a polysyllable (whether containing t or any other vowel) may sometimes be softened and almost ignored. Compare I, i, 90, 114, 122; or II, i, 124, &c. &c
14. Filial ingratitude] Delius : In apposition to ' what beats there.'
15. as] As if. See V, iii, 202, and Ham. I, ii, 217, with the instances there dted. Bttt Abbott, $ 107, says {hat < as ' is equivalent to as if only in appearance, that the ^ is implied in the subjunctive. See also Mttsner, ii, 128, where if is said that, although the abridged sentence may be explained by the complete form, as ifp Lat. quasi, yet we must not assume that a primitive if has been lost.
25. would] As another instance of the omission of the relative, see I, iv, 58.
1 84 KING LEAR [act hi, sc iv
In, boy ; go first — ^You houseless poverty, — 26
Nay, get thee in. 111 pray, and then I'll sleep. —
\Fool goes in. Poor naked wretches, wheresoever you are. That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm. How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, 30
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? Oh, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel. That thou mayst shake the superflux to them 35
And show the heavens more just
Edg. IWi/hin.'] Fathom and half, fathom and half ! Poor Tom ! [TAe Fool runs out from tfu hovel.
26. [To the Fool Johns. 32. t<^en\ tone QqFf.
26,27. Om. Qq. 36. [Enter Edgar, and Foole. Ff.
26. poverty, — ']poveriy'-''Rcmt. pom- Enter Edgar disguised like a Madman trtie^Y^. poverty, "FJPV^, and Fool. Rowc+.
27. [Fool goes in. J Johns. Exit. 37. Scene vi. Pope, (after line 26), Ff. Om. Qq. Exit 37.38. Om.Qq.
Fool, (after line 26), Rowe. Exit Fool. 37. Edg. [Within] Theob. Edg. Ft
(after in, line 27), Cap. Fathoni] Ff. f adorn Wh.
29. storm] night Qq. Jen. 38. The Fool...hovel.] Theob. after
31. locfd] Pope, loopt Qq. lofd line 40. Transferred by Cap. Om.
Ff, Rowe. looped Sch. QqFf. wiftdow^d"] windowed Qq.
26. first] Johnson: This injunction represents that humility, or tenderness, or neglect of forms, which affliction forces on the mind.
31. loop'd] Schmidt: 'Loop' in Sh. docs not mean a loop-hole, but simply a hole, an opening.
32» 33. O. . • this !] Vehse (i, 292) finds in these words the key to the tragedy.
33. Take, &c.] Jacox (ColhyxnCs New Monthly Mag,, I July, 1867) has gathered an entertaining collection of passages, parallel to thb, from English and French literature.
34. Walker {Crit, i, 292) cites this line with a * Qu.' because of the repetition of the word ' feel.' But Dyce sees no reason for supposing it to be corrupt
35. superflux] Schmidt : A hapax legomenon in Sh.
37. Coleridge : Edgar^s assumed madness serves the great purpose of taking off part of the shock which would otherwise be caused by the true madness of Lear, and further displays the profound difference between the two. In eveiy attempt at representing madness throughout the whole range of dramatic literature, with the single exception of Lear, it is mere lightheadedness, as especially in Otway. In Edgar's ravings, Sh. all the while lets you see a fixed purpose, a practical end in view ; — ^in Lear's there is only the brooding of the one anguish, an eddy without progression.
37. fathom and half] Cafell : These words allude to his being buiy*d in straw.
ACT III, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 1 85
Fool. Come not in here, nuncle, here 's a spirit Help me, help me I 40
Kent Give me thy hand. — ^Who's there ?
Fool. A spirit, a spirit ; he says his name's poor Tom.
Kent What art thou that dost grumble there i* th' straw ? Come forth.
^nier Edgar disguised as a madmau.
Edg. Awayl the foul fiend follows me I Through the 45 sharp hawthorn blow the winds. Huml go to thy bed and warm thee.
39, 40. Prose, QqFf. Verse, the first Ec. Var. Coll. DeK Sing. Df cc !, Wh.
line ending spirit^ Johns. Mai. Knt Ktly, Glo. Huds. Wr.
41. Whtfs thereto who/e then. Q,. 45. Through] thorough Q,.
42. A spirit, a spirit,'] A fpirit Qq. 45, 46. Through... wind.] As a quota* name^s] nam*s Q,. name is Q,. tion, Sta. Dyce il. Cam.
43, 44. Prose, QqFf* Verse, dividing 46. hawthorn] hathome Qq. Haw
at straw f Johns. Cap. Steev. Ec. Bos. thome F,F,. Hauthom F,.
Knt, Coll. Del. Sing. Wh. Ktly, Sch. blow the winds] Ff, Rowe, Knt,
43. V M'] in the Qq. Del, Sch. blowes the cold vnnd Qq et
44. forth,] forth t Q,. cet.
Enter...madman.] Theob. Om. /Turn /] Dyce, Sta. Glo. +, Mob.
QqFf. Sch. Hunth, Ff. Om. Qq. Humph,
45. ScBNB VI. Han. Warb. Johns. Jen. Rowe et cet.
45-47. Prose, QqFf. Verse, ending bed] Ff+, Knt, Del. Sch. cold
me L^wind^Jhte. Johns. Cap. Steev. ^a/ Qq et cet.
Stekvems : He gives the sign used by those who are sounding the depth at sea. Collier doubts if Steevens*s explanation be correct.
45,46. Through . • • winds] Capell: This has the air of a quotation from some lost poem. Schmidt : The majority of editors prefer the reading of the Qq because it is more like line 95, and like a line in The Friar of Orders Gray: < See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, and drizzly rain doth fall.' For a similar reason they adopt * go to thy cold bed and warm thee.'
47. thee] This phrase occurs again in the Ind. to Tarn, the Shr., and in a note on it there Theobald thinks that, because there is just before it a clear allusion to a phrase in Kyd's Spanish Tragedy, this must also be * a Banter upon another verse in that play,' viz: * What outcries pluck me from my naked bed ?' But Capell is probably right in thinking this latter allusion more than doubtful, for, as Stauntom says, * to an audience of Shakespeare's age there was nothing risible ' either in this phrase in Lear or in The Spanish Tragedy. • The phrase,' continues Staunton, * •< to go to a cold bed " meant only to go cold to bed ; " to rise from a naked bed " sig- nified to get up naked from bed, and to say one ** lay on a sick bed" (a form of expression far from uncommon even now) implied merely that he was lying sick a-bed.' Dbuixs in his first edition conjectured that the omission of 'cold' in the Ff was due to Shakespeare's having struck it out in order to avoid the comic effect which it produced. This conjecture was not repeated in his second edition. But Dyce, commenting on it, says that Sh. * has studiously made the assumed madness of Edgar 16 »
1 86 KING LEAR fAcr ill, sc. iv.
Lear. Didst thou give all to thy daughters? and art 48 thou come to this?
Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the 50 foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, o'er bog and quagmire ; that hath laid knives under his pillow and halters in his pew; set rabs-
48,49- Pros^QqFf. Verse. Stccv.'yS, 52. /»r^] /w^ Qq- Sword Ff.
Coll. Del. Ktly. Rowe. sutamp Coll. (MS), jwanr
48. Didit,..thy\ Ff+,Cap. Ec. Knt, Anon.* /iw/Anon.*
Del. Dyce, Sch. Didiithou give nil to vtkirlpool^ wHirli-pooie Qq.
thy two Sing. Wh. Coll. iii. Haft thou Whirh Poole F,F,F . vthirlepooU F^.
^uen all to thy two Qq et cet through whirlpool Johns, whirlipoot
thou} thou too Klly. Glo. Wr. Mob.
daughters] Daughters F^. hath] has Qq.
51. through fire] though Fire F,. 53. pew] Pope ii. pue QqFf.
through ftamef] Om. Qq. ratsbane] Rate-bane F,. through ford] throgh foord Q,.
somewhat akin to the comic, that it might contrast the better with the real insanity of Lear.' CowDEN Clarke thinks that the marked frequency of the word < cold* during this scene was probably intentional, in order to sustain the impression of tho inclemency of the season.
53. knives under his pillow] To Theobald is due the credit of discovering that here, and throughout Edgar's feigned madness, allusions are made to Harsnet*s Declaration^ &c. Thus : • While the Spaniards were preparing their Annado against England, the Jesuits were here busily at work to promote the success by making con* verts. One method they used, to do this, was to dispossess pretended demoniacks of their own church ; by which artifice they made several hundred converts among the common people, and grew so elate upon their success as to publish an account of their exploits in thb wonderful talent of exorcising, A main scene of their business, in thb seeming-holy discipline, lay in the family of one Mr. Edmund Peckham; where Marwood, a servant of Antony Babington*s, Trayford, an attendant upon Mr. Peckham, and Sarah and Friswood Williams, and Anne Smith (three chambermaids in that family), were supposed to be possessed by devils, and came under the hands of the priests for their cure. The parties either so little liked the discipline, or the Jesuits behaved with such ill address, that the consequence was, the imposture was discovered; the demoniacs were examined; and their confessions taken upon oath before the Privy Council. The whole matter being blown up, the criminals brought to the stake, and the trick of DeviUhunting brought into ridicule. Dr. Harsnet (who was chaplain to Archbishop Bancroft, and himself afterwards Archbishop of York) wrote a smart narrative of this whole proceeding under the following title: "A Declaration of egregious Popish Impostures, to withdraw the harts of her Majesties Subjects from their allegeance, and from the truth of Christian Religion professed in England, under the pretence of casting out devils. Practised by Edmunds, alias Weston a Jesuit, and divers Romish priests his wicked associates. Whereunto are annexed the Copies of the Confessions, and Examinations of the parties themselves, which were pretended to be possessed, and dispossessed, taken upon oath before her Majesties Commissioners for causes Ecclesiasticall. At London Printed by J^unes
ACT III, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 1 87
bane by his porridge ; made him proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four-inched bridges, to course his 55 own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold. O, do, de, do, de, do, de. Bless thee from whirl-
54. porridge] Porredge Ff. pottage F^F , Rowe.
Qq. 56, 57. BU5s\ blejfe Qq. BUffe F,
55. trotting-horse'] Stecv. trotting F^F,. Bli/s F^.
Aor/e QqFL 57. O do,.,. deJ]Y{+, Cap. Jen, Om.
/tfur-incAed] Cap. /oure incht Qq. O, do de, do de, do de. Johns, et QqF,. foure archt F,. four arcKd cet.
Roberts, dwelling in Barbican 1603.** . . , The greatest part of £dgar*s dissembled lunacy, the names of his devils, and the descriptive circumstances he alludes to in his own case, are all drawn from this pamphlet, and the confessions of the poor deluded wretches.' In this mention of • knives * and • halters ' there seems to be an allusion to the following passage from Harsnet (which is here given as priAted by Staunton): 'This examinant further saith, that one Alexander an apothecarie, having brought with him from London to Denham on a time a new halter, and two blades of knives, did leave the same upon the gallerie floaro in her Maister's hou««. The next morning he tooke occasion to goe with this examinant into the said gal- lerie, where she espying the said halter and blades, asked Ma: Alexander what they did there : Hee making the matter strange, aunswered, that he saw them not, though hee looked fully upon them : she her selfe pointing to them with her finger, where they lay within a yard of them, where they stoode both together. Now (quoth this examinant) doe you not see them ? and so taking them up, said, looke you heerc : Ah (quoth hee) now I see them indeed, but before I could not see them : And there- fore saith he, I perceave that the devil hath layd them heere, to worke some mischicfe upon you, that are possessed. Hereupon ... a great search was made in the house, to know how the said halter and knife blades came thether : but it could not in any wise be found out, as it was pretended, till Ma : Mainy in his next fit said, as it was reported, that the devil layd them in the Gallery, that some of those who were pos- sessed, might either hang themselves with the halter, or kil themselves with the blades.* — Examination of Frirjtjood Williams, p. 219.
53. pew] Delius suggests that this is to indicate that not even the most sacred places were exempt from the temptation to commit suicide.
56. five wits] Johnson (note on Much Ado, I, i, 66) : * The wits seem to have been reckoned five, by analogy of the five senses, or the five inlets of ideas.' In a note on Twelfth Night, IV, ii, 92, Malone quotes from Stephen Hawes^s poem called Craunde Amoure, 1554, to show that the *five wits* were: 'common wit, imagination, fantasy, estimation, and memory.* That the five wits were confounded with the five senses, Collier shows by a quotation from * the interlude of The WorUe end the Chylde, printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1522, and introduced into vol. xii, P« 334» of Dodslcy*s Old Piays: **Age. Of the .v. wittes I wolde have knowynge. Perseuerance, Forsoth, syr, herynge, seynge, and smellynge. The remenaunte tastynge, and felynge : These ben the .v. wittes bodely." ' Malone : Sh,, however, in his 141st Sonnet, considered the * five wits ' as distinct from the five senses.
57. a-cold] Abboit, § 24 : That is, * a-kale,' £. £. ' in a chill.* [See II, ii, 69.] 57. do, de] EccLES : This seems intended to express the sound uttered by per*
1 88 KING LEAR [act iii, sc. iv
winds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some 58 charity, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there, and there again, and there. \Stonn still. 60
Lear. What, have his daughters brought him to this pass? — Couldst thou save nothing ? Wouldst thou give *em all ?
Fool. Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed.
Lear. Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air 65
Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters I
Kent He hath no daughters, sir.
Lear. Death, traitor I nothing could have subdued nature To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. Is it the fashion that discarded Others 70
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? Judicious punishment 1 'twas this flesh begot
58. star-bliueingl ftarrtblufting Qq. 62. Wou!dii,..:em\ Ff, Rowe, Wh.
60. there again] hen again T^-^-. Sch- Didst,,.,* em Pope+, Jen. Sta. and there."] Om. Clq, Dyce ii. Wouldst.. Jhem KxA. J>idjt... [Storm still.] Om. Qq. them Qq et cet
61. What, have his] Theob. What^ 64. shamed] ashamed Ktly. his Qq. Ha's his F,. J/as his F.F,, 66. tight] fall Qq.
Ktly. Have his F^, Rowe, Pope, KnU 72, 73. begot.....dasighters.] One line,
pass] ajfe F^. Qq.
tons who shiver with extreme cold, [Cotgrave gives : *FriUer. To shiner, chatter, or didder for cold,'— Ed.]
58. taking] See II, iv, 160.
65, 66. BosWELL: Compare Timon^ IV, iii, 108-110 : < Be as a planetary plagae, Vf\\tn Jove Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison In the sick air.* ScmnDT: In The Birth of Merlin^ which has been attributed to Sh., we find : < knowest thou what pendulous mischief roofs thy head ?*
69. unkind] Walker {Crit. i, 87) calls attention to the accent ' 6nkind.'
71. flesh] Delius refers this to the sticking of pins in the mortified bare arms, Clarke to the exposure of poor Tom's body to the storm. In Edwin Booth's Prompt Book there is the following stage-direction : < Draws a thorn, or wooden Spike, from Edgar's arm, and tries to thrust it into his own.' After line 73 : * Edgar seizes Lear's hand and takes away the thorn.'
72. Judicious] Walker {Crit. i, 64) cites this word, which he says is here used for judicial, among other instances of an ' inaccurate use of words in Sh., some of them owing to his imperfect scholarship (imperfect, I say, for he was not an ignorard man even on this point), and others common to him with his contemporaries.' See * eternal,' Ham, I, v, 21.
72. punishment] Walker ( Vers. 66) and Abbott, §467* cite this as a dissylla- ble here.
ACT in. sc- iv.] KING LEAR 1 89
Those pelican daughters. 73
Edg. Pillicock sat on PUlicock-hill, Alow : alow, loo, loo ! 75
Fool. This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
Edg, Take heed o* th' foul fiend; obey thy parents; keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud array. 80 Tom's a-cold.
'JZ' daughters] Daughter T^. yS. cWh'1 cth* F^FJF^. at'h Q^. of
74, 75. PilUcock...loo !] As in Johns. the Q^, Cap.
One line, QqFf. 79. 'word justly] Pope, words iujliy
74. PilUcock-bill] Hyphen, Rowe. Qq. words lujftice F,. word^ jujlici pelicocks hill Qq. pelicach hill Qj. Y^^^. word, do justice Rowe. word'g JHllicocks-hill Mai. Steev. Bos. Sing. justice Knt, Del, i. tvords^ justice Sch, Ktly. 80. set not] fet on F^F^.
75. Alow.,Joo f]alolo lo, Qq. Ifaloo, sweet heart] fwcet- heart Ff, Rowe, loo^ loo. Cap. HalloOt halloo, loo, tool Pope, Theob. i. sweetheart Sing, Theob ii.
73. pelican] Sec I/am. IV, v, 142. Wright : See Batman vppon Barthclovie (ed. 15S2), fol. 1S6 ^ : ' The Pellican loueth too much her children. For when the children bee haught, and begin to waxe hoare, they smite the fbither and the mother in the face, wherfore the mother smitcth them againe and slaieth them. And the thirde daye the mother smiteth her selfe in her side that the bloud runneth out, and sheddeth that hot bloud vppon the bodies of her children. And by virtue of the bloud the birdes that were before dead, quicken againe.*
74. Pillicock] Capell : This was suggested by the word * pelican.' Collier : It is thus mentioned in Ritson*s Gammer GurtorCs Garland: — ' Pillycock, Pillycock sat on a hill ; If he*s not gone, he sits there still.' Dyce ( Gloss^ : Frequently used as a term of endearment. Florio gives : ^Pinchino, a prime-cocke, a pillicockc, a darlin, a beloued lad.' Cotgrave has : • Turelureau, Mon tur. My pillicockc, my prettie knaue.* But it had another meaning; see Florio in Piutolo, or Puga, [It is not unlikely that the next line was meant to imitate the crowing of a cock. I see no reason why in nondescript words we should desert the spelling of the original texts, and change * alow ' into Halloo, In such words it b more likely than not that the compositors < followed copy.' — Ed.]
79. word justly] Schmidt suggests^ as the meaning of the Ff, ' be as just in deeds as in words.'
79. commit] Malone (Note on 0th, IV, ii, 72) : This word in Shakespeare's time, besides its general signification, seems to have been applied particularly to un- lawful acts of love.
80. set] Schmidt: < Set,* when followed by < on,' is equivalent to incite^ to make desirous of anything.
8i« a«cold] George Ross, M. D. {Studies, &c., p. 37) : Lear, the genuine lunatic. is insensible to cold^ and complains of it only when reason returns; on the other
I 190 KING LEAR [act ill, sc. iv.
Lear. What hast thou been ? 82
Edg. A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of my mistress's heart and did the aft of darkness with her. b5 Swore as many oaths as I spake words and broke them in the sweet face of heaven. One that slept in the contriving of lust and waked to do it Wine loved I deeply, dice dearly ;
83. ierving-man^SeruingmanfY^^u on the contriving Han, on tin coniriv* 85. wf>/r/«V] Rowc ii. miflris(}c\SL ing of Cz:p,
mistress' Jen- Dycc, Sta. Ktly, Glo. Cam. ZS, deeply] deepely Q,. deerefy F,F,.
87. in„.c/] in the contriving l^o^-^- » dearly F^F^, Rowe, KnL
band, the mock madman makes his sensitiveness to external influences the constant burden of his lamentations. [' Tom's a-cold ' appears to have been the peculiar cry of Bedlam beggars at all seasons. See II, iii, 14. — Ed.] ^ 83. serving-man] Knight : This is not a menial, but a servant in the sense in
which it is used in Two Gent, II, iv, io6. ScKMlDT denies this, and affirms that, in jocose style, where the meaning can be clearly gathered from the context, a cavaliere terventi is undoubtedly called a servofit^ but never a ' serving-man/ which here bears its ordinary meaning.
84. curled my hair] Maloice cites from Harsnet: 'Then Ma. Mainy, by the in* stigation of the first of the seaven [spirits], began to set his hands unto his side, curled his hair, and used such gestures as Ma. Edmunds [the exorcist] presently afiirmed that that spirit was Pride. Herewith he began to curse and banne, saying. What a poxe do I here ? I will stay no longer amongst a company of rascal priests, but goe to the court, and brave it amongst my fellows, the noblemen there assem- bled. . . . Shortly alter they [the seven spirits] were all cast forth, and in such man- ner as Ma. Edmunds directed them, which was, that every devil should depart in some certaine forme representing cither a beast or some other creature, that had the resemblance of that sinne whereof he was the chief author: whereupon the spirit ot pride departed in the form of a peacock; the spirit of shth in the likeness of an asse; the spirit pf envie in the similitude of a dog; the spirit oi gluttony in the forme of a u*olfif and the other devils had also in their departure their particular likenesses agreeable to their natures.' RvsHTON {Euphuism, p. 47) cites from Euphues, * 6c not curious to curie thy haire/ &c. [This may, perhaps, refer to the * love-locks ' that were worn by gallants in Shakespeare's day. — Ed.]
84. gloves] Theobald thinks it but justice to mention an emendation which a learned gentleman suggested to him, viz. that we should read ' wore cloves in my cap,' alluding to the fashion then in vogue of quilting spices and perfumes into the linings of hats. Theobald, of course, dissents, and adds that it was * the custom to wear gloves in the hat upon three different motives : as the favour of a mistress; in honour of some other respected friend ; or as a mark to be challenged by an adver- sary where a duel was impending.' Steevens : Portia, in her assumed character, asks Bassanio for his gloves, which she says she will wear for his sake; and Henry V gives the pretended glove of Alengon to Fluellen, which afterwards occasions his quarrel with the English soldier.
ACT III. sc. ivj KING LEAR . I9I
and in woman out-paramoured the Turk. False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand ; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, go wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders' books, and defy
89. atii-paramoured'\ <nu paroniord rustiings Jen.
Q,. 93. vfoman] women Qq, Jen. Steev.
90. ofhand^handV^. handedY^^ Vac Sing. Ktly, Huds. Rowe. brothelsX brotAeli Q<i, Jen.
91. frey"] pray Q,. 94. plaekets] placket Qq, J^p.
92. rustling] ruJlngsCi^, ru/lingsQ^ Soohf] dooAe Q<i, Jtn,
90. ear] Johnson : Credulous of evil, ready to receive malicious reports.
90-91. hog . • • prey] Wright : Mr Skeat has pointed out to me that in the Ancren RiwU^ p. 198, the seven deadly sins are typified by seven wild animals \ the lion being the type of pride, the serpent of envy» the unicorn of wrath, the bear of sloth, the fox of covetousness, the swine of greediness, and the scorpion of lust.
94. plackets] When Steevens wished to treat an indelicate subject in an in- delicate way, yet with a show of learning, he not infrequently signed his notes Am- NER, the name of a guileless, dissenting clergyman settled not far from Steevens's home at Hampstead. The^e is such a note so signed on this word. Nares defines ' placket' as < a petticoat, generally an underpetticoat. . . . Bailey says it was the fore- part of the shift or petticoat, but it was neither. It is sometimes used for a female, the wearer of a placket, as petticoat now is.' Florio gives : < Torace, . . . also a placket or a stomacher, a brestplate or corselet for the body.' This led Singer and others to define it simply as < a stomacher.' Dyce (Gloss.) has the following note: * Whether or not " placket " had originally an indelicate meaning is more than I cah determine. It has been very variously explained : a petticoat, an underpetticoat,' a pocket attached to a petticoat, the slit or opening in a petticoat, and a stomacher; and it certainly was occasionally used to signify a female as petticoat is'now. « The term plaeket b still in use in England and America for a petticoat, and, in some of the provinces for a shift, a slit in the petticoat, a pocket, &c" — HalliwelL ** As to the word placAet, in ' An exact Chronologic of memorable things ' in fyil*s Interpreter^ 3d ed. 167 1, it is said to be 'sixty-six years since maids began to wear plackets.' Ac* cording to Middleton, the placket is < the open part' of a petticoat; and the word is not altogether obsolete, since the opening in the petticoats of the present day is still called * the placket hole,' in contradistinction to the pocket hole." — Chapell's Pop- ular Music of the Olden Time, ii, 518.' The student who wishes to pursue the subject further will find a note on it by Whitb on the present passage, and also on Zav^s Lab. Ill, i, 186. Schmidt (Lex.) gives the other instances of its use in Sh., and in addition see Marston's IVkat You Will, III, i, p. 267, ed. Halliwell: ' apple squiers, basket bearers, or pages of the placket.' Middleton's Roaring Girl^ III, iii, p. 497, ed. Dyce. Middleton's Any Thing for a Quiet Life, II, ii, p. 447, ed. Dyce; * — the open part [of a petticoat] which is now called the placket* FrankHn, jun. Why, was it ever called otherwise ? Geo, Yes; while the word re- mained pure in his original, the Latin tongue, who have no K's, it was called the
1 92 KING LEAR [act hi, sc. iv.
the foul fiend Still tJirough the Itawtham blows the cold 95 wind. Says suum, mun, nanny. Dolpltin my boy^ boy, sessaf let him trot by. [Stonn still.
95-97. Still..,by] As inQqFf. Three pAin my Boy, Boy Seffey : let him trei
lines, Glo.+,Dyceii. by. Y((Sticy F,, Km), Rowe+, Jen.
95. Stlll...nonny.] In Italics, Sta. Knt. Dolphin my boy, my boy, ceafe let the hawthorn] thy Hawthorn Fj him trot by, Qq {caefe Q,), also Ec. Ktly
F^. (both in Italics, and in two lines; Ktly
hawthorn] hathome Qq. ffau* reads cessi), dolphin, my boy, my boy,
thome F,F,. sesse ; let him trot by. Cap.
96. 5tf)V....nonny] Ff+, Jen. Knt, 96. my boy,boy] Ff+, Sch. mybpy^ Dyce. Sch. hay no on ny Qq.. Ha I my boy Qq et cet.
nenni ; Cap. Hey no nanny, — Ec. says trot by'\ trot my F^F^,
suum, mun, ha no nonny Steev. et cet. [Storm still.] Om. Qq.
DoIphin...by] Mai. (subs.) Dot'
placet; a placendo, a thing or place to please.' Middleton's The Honest Whore^ Part 3, V, ii, p. 24X, ed. Dyce. Beau, and Fl.'s Lov^s Cure, I, ii, p. 116, ed. Dyce. Beau, and Fl.'s Humourous Lieutenant, IV, iv, p. 50S, ed. Dyce. White well sums up the discussion ; ' It is clear at least that the placket, in Shakespeare^s time and after, was an article of female apparel so secret as not to admit description, and so common as not to require it; and that, consequently, the thing having passed out of use, the word stat nominis umbra.*
94. lenders* books] Steevens : So in Chapman^s All Fools, 1605 :' If I but write my name in mercers* books, I am as sure to have at six months end A rascal at my elbow with his mace,* &c.
96. suum, mun] Steevens : These words were probably added by the players, who, together with the compositors, were likely enough to corrupt what they did not understand, or to add more of their own to what they already concluded to be non- sense, [See Knight's interpretation, in the next note. For * nonny,' see Ham, IV, V, 161.]
96, 97. Dolphin . . • by] Capell supposes that Edgar * feigns himself one who is surveying his horses, and marking their paces ; that his * boy ' whom he calls ' dolphin ' (or dauphin) is about to stop one of them, and cries out to that boy i» wild language: *Hal no, leave to do it; let him trot by^ if any one, upon the score of this dolphin, will say— he feigns himself Neptune, he shall not be oppos'd in it.* Johnson : Of interpreting this there is not much hope or much need. But anything may be tried. The madman, now counterfeiting a proud fit, supposes him- self met on the road by some one that disputes the way, and cries * Hey !— No— • but altering his mind condescends to let him pass, and colls to his boy Dolphin (Rodolph) not to contend with him. •On— Dolphin, my boy, cease. Let him trot by.* Steevens gives the following stanza: « Dolphin^ my boy, my boy, Cease, let him trot by ; It scemelh not that such a foe From me or you would fly,' and adds that it b from • a very old ballad written on some battle fought in France, during which the King, unwilling to put the suspected valour of his son the Dauphin — x. e. Dolphin (so called and spelt at those times) to the trial, is represented as desirous to restrain him from any attempt to establish an opinion of his courage on an adversaiy who wears the least appearance of strength ; and at last ass'ists in propping up a dead tK>dy agcdnst a tree for him to try his manhood upon. Therefore, as different cham*
ACT III. SC. iv.] KING LEAR I93
Liar. Thou wert better in thy grave than to answer 98 with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than this ? Consider him welL Thou owest lOO the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha? here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art Off of!^ you lendings I come, unbutton here. 10;
98. Th(m\ Ff+» Cap. Sch. Why^ 102. Haf\ Om. Qq.
thou Qq et cct kerisl kef's Q,. h^rs Q^.
«w/] ttfere Sing. Sta. on^s] ens Q,F,. ones Q,. o/u$
(Ay grave] a Graue Ff, Rowe, Popc+, Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Del.
Pope, Han. Knt, Sch. sophisticated] fo phifticated Q,.
9S-105. 7)l<w...^^/v.] Nine lines, end- 105. lendings] leadings Q^,
\nganswer.,aki£s„.'well:...hidet,^MaL„ eome, unSutton here,] conu oh
art„Js,..,animal.,Jere, Ktly. Q,. come on be trtte, Q,.
loa than] but Qq, Jen. [Tearing off his clothes. Rowe.
more,,,Consider] more^ hut this Tearing...; Kent and the Fool strive to
ebfider Q,. hinder him. Cap.
pions are supposed to cross the field, the King always discovers some objection to his attacking each of them, and repeats these two lines as every fresh personage is introdttced. The song I have never seen, but had this account from an old gentle- man, who was only able to repeat part of it, and died before I could have supposed the discovery would have been of Uie least importance to me.' [It may perhaps be well to remember that Steevens's < black-letter volumes ' of unknown titles and dates, together with his * ballads ' rehearsed from memory, are to be received with cau* tion. — Ed.] Farmer cites : < Od*s my life I I am not allied to the sculler yet; he shall be Dauphin my boy.' — ^Jonson's Bartholomew Fair [V, iii, p. 522, ed. Gifford, where Gifford says, * Dauphin my boy^ is the burden of a ridiculous old song, of which mention b made by Steevens in King Lear! Note that Gifford was too cau* tious to allude to the interesting little history that Steevens gives of the ballad. — Ed.] Knight : We are inclined to think, if there be any meaning, some of the words are meant as an imitation of the sound of the rushing wind, and that * let him go by ' has the same reference.
96. sessa !] Malone : I have printed * Sessa,' because the same cant word oc- curs in the Induction to Tarn, the Sh, Johnson (note on III, vi, 72) ; This I take to be the French word cessew, pronounced cessey, which was, I suppose, like some other of common use among us. It is an interjection enforcing cessation of any action, like, de quiet^ have done, Coluer : It may be doubted whether it be not s mere interjection.
98. thou wert] See I, iv, 93.
102. cat] That is, the civet-cat.
102. sophisticated] Schmidt: Not elsewhere in Sh.
103. unaccommodated] Wright: That is, unfurnished with what is necessary^ especially with dress. Compare IV^ vi» 81 » where Edgar says, after seeing Lear * fantastically dressed with wild flowers,' 'The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
17 N
194 KING LEAR [act hi, sc. iv.
Fool. Prithee, nuncle, be contented ; 'tis a naughty night lo6 to swim in. Now a little fire in a wide field were like an old lecher's heart, a small spark, all the rest on's body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.
Edg. This is the foul Flibbertigibbet; he begins at no curfew and walks at first cock; he gives the web and
Its, Prithee\Pri/heQ^, PrytheeY^. ct cet. Prethee F,F,F^. l lo. Flibbertigibbet^ fliberdcgibck Q,.
contentedl content Qq, Jen. Sirberdegibil Q,,
107. iwi/^] Jen. Walker. wi7dVQ,F,F,. in. a/] Ff, Rowe, Sch. till the Qq tnld Q,F,F^ et cet. et cet.
108. all"] and all Q^, Rowe+. gives] gins Q;.
<wf'j] m Qq. 0/*sCsLp. of his III, 112. and the pin, squints] Ff.
Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, 6* the pin^fquemes Q,. the pinqueuer
IIO./wi/] Ff+,Sch. foul fiend (^ Q,. the pinquever C^^,
His master thus.' In Shakespeare's time the word < accommodate * had begun to be abused. See 2 Hen, IV: III, ii, 72, &c. From the word < lendings,' which occurs here, it would seem that ■ accommodate ' had even then acquired the modem sense of < to furnish with money.'
105. unbutton here] It has been suggested to me by an eminent novelist and dramatist in London, that these words are properly a stage-direction. — Ed.
107. wide] Jennrns first suggested this change, on the ground that * " wide " is better opposed to " little; " * it was confirmed, as I think, by Walker (Crit. iii, 279), who says that * wild is in the manner of modern, not Elizabethan poetry,' and he gives instances, not alone from Sh., but from contemporary authors, where the same mis- print of wild for * wide ' occurs.
109. here comes] Although this evidently refers to Gloucester with his torch, yet I think it somewhat premature to mark Gloucester's entrance here as the Cam. editors, following the Qq, have done. In the Qq, if they were printed from an acting copy, the stage-directions are rather directions to the actors to be ready to go on than indications of their actual entrance. It is not easy to conceive, in the restricted space of the Shakespearian stage, how Gloucester could have remained unnoticed by Lear throughout Edgar's speech from line 109 to 119. — Ed.
no. Flibbertigibbet] Steevens: This fiend is mentioned by Latimer in his sermons [* And when these flatterers, and flybbcrgybes an other daye shall come and clawe you by the backe and say.* — Second Sermon^ *549i P- 69, ed. Arber. — Ed.], and Heywood, in his Proverbs and Epigrams^ has the following : * Thou Flebergibet, Flebergibet, thou wretch 1* Percy: *Frateretto, Fleberdigibet, Hoberdidance, Tocobatto, were four deuils of the round, or Morrice, whom Sara in her fits, tuned together, in measure and sweet cadence.' — Harsnet, p. 49. Cotgrave: Coquette: f. A pratling, or proud gossip; a fisking, or fliperous minx, a cocket, or tatlinghous- wife; a titifiU, a fiebergebit. Bell (Sk, Pucky &c. iii, 104) gives a fanciful deriva- tion of this word, which, he says, is GalgcnmSnnchen personified.
III. walks at first cock] Schmidt: Not unfrequcntly in Sh. Mo walk' is equivalent to go away. Thus in Cym, I, i, 176: * Queen. Pray, walk awhile, /w- ogen. About some half-hour hence, I pray you, speak with me • . . for this time
ACT III, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 1 95
the pin, squints the eye, and makes the hare-lip; mildews II2 the white wheat and hurts the poor creature of earth. Swithold footed thrice the old ;
1 1 a. hart'lipl Hare4iJ>pe F,F,. Haif 1 14. Swithold'\ Ff, Rowe, Pope, Knt,
/i>F^,Rowe, Pope, Theob.Warb. Johns. Del. Dyce, Sch. fwiihald Qq. St.
len., AarelipQ^. Aart lip Q^. IVi/Ao/d Thtoh.\. S. WUhold GXo.Vfr,
113. creature] creatures Han. Saint IViihold Theob. ii et cet.
eartX] theearth FjF^+ Jen.Ec. old] Q,, Ff, Rowe, Pope, Kn!,
I14-118. Swithold...aroint thee r\ As Dyce, Glo. Wr. Sch. oide Q^, 'eld
by Cap. Four lines, Ff. Prose, Qq. Cam. wold Theob. et cet.
leave me.' That to walk is used technically of spirits does not interfere with the present modified meaning. See IV, vii, 83. [For the effect of the cock-crow upon
* extravagant and erring spirits,' see I/am, I, i, 150.]
112. web and pin] Malone : See Florio, who gives *Cateratta, Also a disease in the eies called a pin and a web.* [Thus, in the edition of 1598.] Wright gives as FIorio*s definition, ' A purculleis. . . . Also a dimnesse of sight occasioned byhumores hardned in the eies called a Cataract or a pin and a web.'
I14-118. Swithold ... thee !] WARBtJRTON: We should read it thus: Saint Withold footed thrice the wold. He met the night-mare, and her name told. Bid her alight, and her troth plight. And aroynt thee, witch, aroynt thee right; i. e. Saint Withold, traversing the wold or downs, met the night-mare; who, having told her name, he obliged her to alight from those persons whom she rides, and plight her troth to do no more mischief. This is taken from a story of him in his legend. Hence he was invoked as the patron saint against that distemper. And these verses were no other than a popular charm, or night-spell against the Epialtes, The last line is the formal execration, or apostrophe of the speaker, of the charm to the witch, aroynt thee right, i. e. depart forthwith. Bedlams, gipsies, and such-like vagabonds, used to sell these kinds of spells or charms to the people. They were of various kinds for various disorders, and addressed to various saints. We have another of them in B. and Fl.'s Monsieur Thomas, IV, vi, which is expressly called a night-spell, as follows : ' St. George, St. George, our Lady's knight, He walks by day, so does he by nighty And when he had her found. He her beat, and her bound. Until to him her troth she plight, She would not stir from him that night.' This, says Steevens, is likewise one of the * magical cures ' for the incubus, quoted, with little vari?tion, by Reginald Scott in his Discovery of Witchcraft, 1584. Theobald: My ingenious friend Mr Bishop saw that * old ' must be wold, which signifies a down, or champion ground, hilly and void of wood. And as to St. Withold, we find him again men- tioned in our author's Troublesome Raigne of King John [p. 256, ed. Nichols] 1
• Sweet S. Withold of thy lenitie, defend us from cxtremitie.' Tyrwhitt: I cannot find this adventure in the common legends of St. Vitalis, who, I suppose, is here called ' St. Withold.' Farmer : Olds is the same word as wolds, Spelman writes. Burton upon olds ; the provincial pronunciation is still the oles, and that, being the vulgar orthography, may be the correct one here. In a book called The Actor^ ascribed to Dr Hill, it is quoted 'the cold^ [*the reading of Tate's version.'— Steevens]. Mr Colman has it, in his alteration of Lear^ * the worldJ [To this note CoufAN replied that world in his edition was an error of the press.]
196 KING LEAR [act III, 8C. ir.
He met the night-mare and her m'ne-fold ; 11$
Bid her alight.
And her troth plight. And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee I
Kent. How lares your grace ?
Enier GLOUCBsmt, with a tortK
Lear. What's he? lao
Kent Who's there? What is 't you seek?
Glou. What are you there ? Your names ?
Edg. Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad,
115. He met the nigktmarel he met Ii8. tJkee^ witck.l thee^ witch Q,.
the night mare (l^. anelthu night Moore thee Witch YJ^. the witch, "FJF^. thee,
Q,. aneithunight Moor Q,. with Q^.
nini-fold\ ninefold YJP^^, nine theef] thee right, Warb.
fold Qq. name told Warb. Johns. Jen. Enter...torch.] Ff, after line 16$.
Ii6. her alight"] her a-light Ff. her. Transferred by Pope. Enter Gloiler.
O light Qq. Qq (Glocefter. Q,), after line 109. Af-
117. troth plight] troth-plight Ff. ter line 109, Cap. GI0.+.
118. aroint..,aroint] aroynt.,..aroynt 120. Scene vii. Pope -f, Jen. Ff. ariMt,..arint Qq. 121. Who's] Who/e^.
115. nine-fold] Capell: That is, her nine imps, or familiars. Tyrwhitt: Put, for the sake of rhyme, instead of nitie foah.
118. aroint] See Macb. I, iii, 6, and notes. Since those derivations, all of them unsatisfactory, were there collected, another, which unfortunately must be placed in the same category, has been contributed by F. J. V. in Notes and Qu., 15 March, 1873. He proposes the French ireinte-toi; that is, 'break thy back or reins, used as an imprecation.' In the notes on Macb. credit is not given, as it should have been, to Capell for the derivation in his Glossary f <Avaunt! Hell take theet Lot, Dii te averruncent I ' Nares cites it, without giving its author, and to Nares it has been frequently attributed. The following derivation, which seems highly probable, appeared in The Academy, 28 Dec, 1878 : Mr F. D. Matthew, of the New Shakespeare Society s Committee, who is editing the unprinted English Works of Widif for the Early English Text Soc, has come across two instances of what must surely be Shakespeare's tfm«/— the verb arunte, avoid — in a Wycliffile tract in the MS C. v. 6, Trinity Coll., Dublin, lately lent to him by the College: <* And her/ sculd men aruirt feynt penytaujisers, confessours and d^r pr^^tis J>at assoylen for money" (Leaf 157, back). "And her/ schul men arunte >e feend >at stiri> men to last in \\s erroure*' (Leaf 159, back). «I think," says Mr Matthew, « there is no doubt that 'arunte,' which here evidently means 'avoid or shun,' is Che 'aroint' of Macb. I, iii, 6, and Lear, III, iv, 1 1 8, which has hitherto not been met with out of Sh." The change from m to m is not •asy, but has surely taken place here.'
ACTULSCiv.] KING LEAR 197
the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for 125 sallets; swallows the old rat and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stocked, punished, and unprisoned; who hath three suits to his back, six shirts to his body;
Horse to ride and weapon to wear ; 130
But mice and rats and such small deer Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
124. tadpoU\ Johns, tod foU Q^ iflCdYi. Jlochpuniyk/Qq^Tope-^fCx^
Soade pold Q^ Tod-poU F,F^ Pope+ , Jen. Glo. + , Dyce ii.
Sch. Tod-pool F,F^. tod-pol Rowe. 129, Kath'\ Ff, Rowe, Pope, Sdu
vfaU'newt\ Q,. waU-Ntmi YU haih had Qq et cet
wall-wcrt Q^ 130. /r<?rx/...«tfar/] Verse, Ff, Rowe,
wal^r] waier-mui Rowe-f , Cap. FOpe, Theob. Johns. Jen. Sch. Prose,
Jen. Ec Qq ct cet.
fury] fruUe Q,. I31. deer\ Dean F,F^ Dear F,F^.
126. talleti^ saliads Jen. salUt Cap. geer Han. Warb. cheer Grey.
conj. 132. Have"] Hath Qq. 128. ftoched, punished'^ ftocki^ pun-
124. tadpole] Wright: The modem spelling was in use in* Shakespeare's time. Cotgrave gives : * Gyrine : the £pog tearmed, a Tadpole.'
124. waU-newt] Wright: That is, lizard. <Newt' is from A.S. efete^ Early English ttute^ and then eft^ the initial * n' having been acquired from the final letter of the article, so that 'an evet' or 'an eft' became 'a newt.'
124. water] That b, the water-newt For many similar constructions, see Schmidt {JLex,\ p. 14x9.
126. saUets] Wright: Cotgrave: *Salade: f. A salade. Helmet, Head-peece; also a Sallet of hearbes.' It is still used in Sussex. See Bam, II,. ii, 430.
126. ditch-dog] Deuus : The dead dogs thrown into ditches.
128. tithing] Steeyens: A district; the same in the country as award in the city. In the Stat. 39 Eliz. ch. 4, it is enacted that every vagabond, &c shall be publickly whipped and sent from parish to parish. [For a description of the treat- ment of * roges/ and of how they must be 'greeuouslie whipped and burned through the gristle of the right eare, with an hot iron of the oompasse of an inch about,' see Harrison's Description of Engiand, Bk. ii, chap, x, p. 219, ed. New Sh, Soc,"}
129. hatfa three suits] Schmidt: The 'hath had three suits' of the Qq prob- ably accords with the fact, but what have facts to do with madness ? Tom hath three suits and six shirts; — ^where are they? who has taken them from him?
13 1 » 132* Capell: These are two lines of quotation (but not exact) from an old! metrical romance of the Ztye of Sir Bevis : * Rattes and myse and suche smal dere Was his meate that seven yere.' ' Dere,' says MiiLONB, was used for animals in general. So Barclay in his Ecloguis^ 1570: *Everie sorte of dere Shrunk under shadowes abating all their chere.' Souodt: Not exactly animals in general, but game.
198 KING LEAR [act ill, sc. iv.
Beware my follower. — Peace, Smulkin! peace, thou fiend! 133 Glou. What, hath your grace no better company ? Edg. The prince of darkness is a gentleman; Modo 135
he's caird, and Mahu.
133. Smulkin] fnulbug Qq. Smol- cet. As a quotation, Dyce u.
kin Theob. Warb. Johns. Cap. Steev. Ec. 135. Modo\ Mohu Johns.
Var. Knt. 136. het\ Oianged to A« u by Cap.
>35* >3^- The^^Maku.] Prose, Qq in Errata.
Ff + , Jen. Glo. + , Sch. Verse, Cap. et Mahu\ Ff. ma ku-^ Qq.
133, 135, 136. SmuUctn. • . . Modo • . • Mahu] Staunton: If the subjoined extracts from Harsnet's Declaration do not prove undisputably that Sh. was indebted to that popular book for the titles of Tom o' Bedlam's infernal spirits, we may infer that these fantastic names were quite familiar to an auditory of his time : < It seemes not incongruent that I relate unto you the names of the devils whom in this glorious pageant they did dispossesse. . . . First, then, to marshall them in as good order as such disorderly cattell will be brought into, you are to understand, that there were in our possessed 5 Captaines, or Commaunders above the rest : Captaine Pippin, Mar- wood's devil, Captaine Philpot, Trayfords devil, Captaine Maho, Saras devil, Cap> taine Modu, Maynies devil, and Captaine Soforce, Anne Smiths devil. These were not all of equall authoritie, and place, but some had more, some fewer under theyr commaund. . . • The names of the punie spirits cast out of Trayford were these, Hilco, Smolkin, Hillio, Hiaclito, and Lostie huffe-cap : this last seemes some swag- gering punie devill, dropt out of a Tinkers budget. . . . Modo, Master Maynies devill, was a graund Commaunder, Muster-maister over the Captaines of the seaven deadly sinnes : Cliton, Bernon, Hilo, Motubizanto, and the rest, himselfe a Generall of a kind and curteous disposition : so saith Sara Williams, touching this devils acquaint* ance with Mistres Plater, and her sister Fid. Sara Williams had in her at a bare word, all the devils in hell. The Exorcist asks Maho, Saras devil, what company he had with him, and the devil makes no bones, but tels him in flat termes, all Ike devils in kell, . . . And if I misse not my markes, this Dictator Modu saith, hee had beene in Sara by the space of two yeeres, then so long hell was deere, and had not a devill to cast at a mad dogge. And sooth I cannot much blame the devils for staying so long abroade, they had taken up an Inne, much sweeter then hell : and an hostesse that wanted neither wit, nor mirth, to give them kind welcome. Heere, if you please, you may take a survay of the whole regiment of hell : at least the chiefe Leaders, and officers as we finde them enrolled by theyr names. First, Killico, Hob, and a third anonymos, are booked downe for three graund Commaunders, every one having under him 300 attendants. . . . Maho was generall Dictator of hell ; and yet for good manners sake, hee was contented of his good nature to make shew, that himselfe was under the check of Modu, the graund devil in Master Maynie. These were all in poor Sara at a chop, with these the poore soule travailed up and downe full two yeeres together; so as during these two yeeres, it had beene all one to say, one is gone to hell, or hee is gone to Sara Williams ; for shee poore wench had adl hell in her belly.* — Cap. x, pp. 45, 50.
135, 136. The . . . Mahu] Reed : In Tke Goblins, by Sir John Suckling, a catch is introduced which concludes with tlicse two lines : ' The prince of darkness is a
ACT in, sc. iv.] KING LEAR 1 99
Glou. Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vilde 137 That it doth hate what gets it
Edg. Poor Tom 's a-cold.
Glou. Go in with me ; my duty cannot suffer 140
T obey in all your daughters* hard commands ; Though their injunflion be to bar my doors And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, Yet have I ventured to come seek you out And bring you where both fire and food is ready. 145
Lear. First let me talk with this philosopher. — What is the cause of thunder ?
Kent. Good my lord, take his offer; go into th* house.
137, 138. Our„^ets U^l Verse, Pope. 140-145. Prose, Qq.
I*n»«» QqFf» Rowe. 142. Tkoughl Though allY^^
137. my hrd,.,.vilde] is grcwne fo 144. ventured'\ ventet^d Qq.
vUd my Lord Qq {yUdi Q^), GIo.+j 1^$. fire and fowi'^ food and Jire(i<\.
Mob. f>] are Han. Coll. Ui.
138. gets i/J it gets F,F^; Rowe. 148. Good..,house.'] Two lines, Ff.
139. /Vtfr] Om. Pope+. Good my'] My good Qq, Pope<f , 139, 165. a'Cold\ Hyphen, Rowe. Jen. MaL Ec.
♦ gentleman, Mahu, Mahu is his name.' I am inclined to think this catch not to be
the production of Suckling, but the original referred to by Edgar's speech. Wiught:
But as Suckling in other parts of his play is constantly alluding to Sh., it is more
likely that in this he is only quoting from Lear, Steevens : Edgar sajrs this in
resentment at what Gloucester had just asked; *Hath your grace no better com*
pany?'
137, 138. CowDBN Clarke: One of Shakespeare's subtle touches. Some tone or inflection in Edgar's voice has reached the father's heart, and bitterly recalls the supposed unfilial conduct of his elder son, and he links it with that of Lear*s daugh- ters. Edgar, instinctively feeling this, perseveres with his Bedlam cry, to drown the betrayed sound of his own voice, and maintain the impression of his assumed character.
141. T' obey] Mason : That is, ' my duty will not sufier me to obey,' &c. W&ight : But it is not certain whether the sense is not, < My duty to you must not suffer by my obeying yoyxt daughters' commands.' For this use of the infinitive, see Abbott, 5 356 [or III, V, 8; ^or^. IV, ii, 69; /feiw. Ill, ui, 85 ; IV, ii, 12].
141. T' obey in] Weight: The construction would be familiar if it were 'to obey your daughters in all their hard commands.'
145. fire and food is] See II, i, 113.
147. thunder] Moberly: Being so ^unsophisticated.' — ^having so completely re- duced mankind to their elements, surely thb man must have a spontaneous insight into the nature of things, such as would at least tell him what is the cause of thunder, like the celebrated German poet and physicist, he will have ' a pure sense of nature, rebelling against the barbarism of reflection.'
200 KING LEAR [Acrni, sahr
Lear. I 'U talk a word with this same learned Theban. — What is your study ? 1 50
Edg. How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin.
Lear. Let me ask you one word in private,
Kent. Importune him once more to go, my lord ; His wits begin t' unsettle.
Glon, Canst thou blame him? [Storm still.
His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent! 155
He said it would be thus, poor banished man ! Thou sa/st the king grows mad ; I'll tell thee, fiiend, I am almost mad myself. I had a son, Now outlawed from my blood ; he sought my life, But lately, very late ; I loved him, friend, 160
No father his son dearer; true to tell thee. The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night 's this ! —
149, 150. Prose, Qq. Knt, Sing. Dyce, Sta. KUy* To line
149. (alM'l take F,F^. 162, Coll. Del. Wh.
sami\ moft Qq, Jen. 155. Ah"] O Qq.
15a lVhat..jtudy\ Given to Kent by 157. sa^sC^faift Q^ fayefi Q,Ff.
Klly. 158. I ami Pm Popc+, Dyce a
152. mt\ us FjF^-i-. 159. ou/lav^d] out-lawed Q<\, private] private^ friend, Ktly. he saughfl a/cughi Q,.
153, 154. /mpor/uMe....unseftieJ] One 161. irue] truth Q,. GI0.+, Mob. line, Qq. X62. hath] has Q..
153. once more] Om. Qq, Pope, Han. uight's] nights Q^TJFy
Jen. 162, 163. The.,graee] Two lines, the
154.. [Storm still.] Om. Qq, Cap. first ending wits. Qq. Transferred to line 161, Mai. Steev. Bos.
151. prevent] Wright: Here used with something of its original sense of an* ticipating, being beforehand with, as well as the more common meaning which now belongs to the word. [See Ifam. II, ii, 286 : ' My anticipations prevent your dis- covery.*]
154. Steevens cites a note by Horace Walpole, in the postscript to his Afysteriaus Mother, where he observes that when ' Belvidera talks of '* Lutes, laurels, seas of milk, and ships of amber," she is not mad, but light-headed. When madness has taken possession of a person, such character ceases to be fit for the stage, or, at least, should appear there but for a short time ; it being the business of the theatre to ex- hibit passions, not distempers. The finest picture ever drawn, of a l^ead discomposed by misfortune, is that of King Lear. His thoughts dwell on the ingratitude of his daughters, and every sentence that falls from his wildness excites reflection and pity. Had frenzy entirely seized him, our compassion would abate ; we shouUl condude that he no longer felt nnhappiness. Shakespeare wrote as a philosopher, Otway as a poet,'
ACT 111. SC iv.] KING LEAR 201
1 do beseech your grace, —
Lear. Oh, cry you mercy, sir. — 163
Noble philosopher, your company.
Edg. Tom's a-colA 165
Clou. In, fellow, there, into th' hovel ; keep thee warm.
Lear. Come, let's in all.
Kent. This way, my lord.
Lear. With him ;
I will keep still with my philosopher.
Kent. Good my lord, soothe him ; let him take the fellow.
Clou. Take him you on. 170
Kent. Sirrah, come on ; go along with us.
Lear. Come, good Athenian.
Clou. No words, no words ! Hush.
Edg. Child Rowland to the dark tower came.
His word was still * Fie,foh, andfum, 175
/ smell the blood of a British man.' [Exeunt.
163. ^tfr/,—] Cap. graci. QqFf+. 169. (7<W... /r/^ur.] Two lines, Ff.
|7tfr/, Warb. 171. Sirrak,..us.'\ Sirrah, eome an;
sir\ Om. Qq, Cap. Mai. Stecv. along imth us. Pope+. On, sirraA : ga
Bos. Sing. Ktly. ttn/A us. Cap.
163, 164. O,..c0m^ny,'\ One line, Qq. 173. ITusA] Separate line, Steev. Bos.
165. a-coU} Rowe. a cold QqFf. Knt, Coll. Del. Sing. Dyce i, Wh. Ktly.
l()6. ehere,intoth''\there,in't(i^.inio 1 74. tower] Ff. toum^QjQ^
M' Pope + . /Arre, to the Cap. Steev. £c came] Ff. come Qq, C^p.
Bos. there, in, to the Mai. 175. Fie...fum] Ff. (fumme F,). fy
167, 168. IVith philosopher :\ One fo andjum Q,. fye,fo, andfum Q^
line, Qq. 176. British] Britti/h Ff.
168. him; /] him I Qq. [Exeunt.] Om. Qq.
163. your grace,— ] Cowdkn Clarke: Here Gloucester attempts to lead Lear towards the shelter he has provided in the farm-house adjoining the castle ; hut the king will not hear of quitting his * philosopher.' Gloucester then induces the Bed* lam-fellow to go into the hovels that he may be out of Lear's sight; but Lear pro- poses to follow him thither, saying < Let's in all.' Kent endeavours to draw Lear away, but, finding him resolved to < keep still with ' his < philosopher,' begs Gloucester to humour the king, and *let him take the fellow' with him. Gloucester accedes, and bids Kent himself take the fellow with them in the direction they desire to go; and this is done. We point out these detaik, because, if it be not specially observed, the distinction between the ' hovel ' and the * farm-house ' would hardly be under* stood. The mention of 'cushions' and a < joint-stool' in Scene vi shows it to be some place of better accommodation than the < hovel ;' and probably some cottage or farm-house belonging to one of Gloucester's tenants.
174. Child Awland] Capbll : Every observing reader of Spenser, and of the writers of his class, knows that ' Child ' is a common appellative of the knight ia romances; deriv'd from the first gross importers of them into our language from out
202 KING LEAR [act iil, SC. iv.
[174. Child Rowland.]
the Spanish and French, in which he is caird enfant^ an4 infante; and all know that * Rowland ' is only Roland pronounced rustically, and Roland a contraction of Orlando, so that < Child Rowland ' is the knight Sir Orlando. Percy (note on Child Waters^ vo). iii, p. 58, 1765) cites with approval Warburton's note on this passage, to the effect that < in the old times of chivalry the noble youth who were candidates for knighthood, during the time of their probation, were called Infans^ Variets^ Do' moysels, Bachelien. The most noble of the youth were particularly called Infant^ Steevens: Beau, and Fl. in The fVoman*s Prize [II, i] refer to this: «a mere hobby-hoxse She made Child Rowland.' Nares : Childe Harold has lately made the term very familiar.
I74t 176. Capell, despite the fact that it b an assumed madman who speaks these lines, maintained that we should not only make sense of them, but show f their particular propriety.' He was convinced that ' never any Orlando ' said < Fie, fob, fum.' Therefore a line must have been omitted, and in that line * the smeller-out' of Child Rowland must have been mentioned. Accordingly, he ' perfected ' the stanza, and, although he thought it presumptuous to insert his own line in Shake- speare's text, yet ' the world may not be displeas'd to see it done in a note, and that in sense and rime too, as follows : [it should be premised that he adopted, instead of < came' of the Ff, eome of the Qq> 1. 1. being come] '< Child Rowland to the dark tower come, The giant roar'd, and out he ran ; His word was," ' &c. Having thus settled the ' sense ' of the passage, Capell reveals * its propriety,' by explaining that < « Child Rowland " is Edgar himself; the *< dark tower," his hovel; and the fiifr fum giant ^ his father Gloster; who, he fears, might have the giant's sagacity, and accost him in no less dreadful a manner.' Keightley proposed, < The Giant saw him, and oiit he ran.' RiTSON thought that the first line was a translation of some French or Spanish ballad, but that the last two lines belonged to a different subject. Dycb, however, in his Few Notet^ p. 146, speaks of all three lines as one ballad, of which ' (probably with some variations from the original) fragments of a Scottish version have been preserved by Jamieson in Illustr, 0/ Northern Antiquities^ &c. 1814. He gives (p. 402) I ** With fi, fi, fo, and fum ! I smell the blood of a Christian man I Be he dead, be he living, wi' my brand I'll clash his hams frae his ham-pan ' " (t. e» I'll knock his brains out of his skull).' Halliwell believes [with Ritson] that ' Edgar quotes from two different compositions, the first line from a ballad on Rowland, the second from Jach and the Giants ; the original source of the popular words Fie, fob, and fum is unknown. They are alluded to in Peele's Old Wives Tale, 15951— " Fee, fa, fum, — Here is the Englishman, — Conquer him that can." Again, in Nash's J/ave With You to Saffron Walden, 1596,— '*0, 'tis a precious apothegmaticall pedant, who will finde matter inough to dilate a whole daye of the first invention of Fy^fa^ Juntf I smell the bloud of an Englishman." The probability is that the distich quoted by Nash and Sh. belongs to some early version of the tale of yach and the Giants, [Halliwell thinks that the earliest known edition of this story is 177 1, or possibly 1741. Halliwell also gives the story of Child Rowland from Jamieson's Illustr, of North, Antiquities, p. 397 ; it is also given in Child's admirable Eng, and Scottish Ballads, i, 416.] Wright : The substitution of ' Britishman ' for Englishman poinU to the time when, under James I, the name of England was merged in the more general title of Great Britain. See I V, vi. 249 [where Ff have ' English * and the Qq have British. See also Appendix, p. 377.]
ACTiii.scvO KING LEAR 203
Scene V. Gloucester's castle.
Enter Cornwall and Edmund
Cam. I will have my revenge ere I depart his house.
Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think of.
Com. I now perceive, it was not altogether your brother's evil disposition made him seek his death, but a provoking 5 merit, set a-work by a reproveable badness in himself.
Scene v.] Scena Quinta Ff (Scaena i. iwy] Om. ^^^^'
FJ. Scene rv. Rowe. Scene vul his^ the Qq. this Han.
Pope + , Jen. 5, 6. Revoking merits provoked spirit
Gloucester's castle.] Rowe. A Han. Jen.
Room in 0108161*8 CastlefCap. . 6. a-warh"] a worke QqF,. a wcrk
Enter....E<imund.] Enter....Ba(lard. FjF^.
Qq. Om. Johns. hims£l/'\ him Han.
2. censured] For ' censure ' meaning opinion, see Ham, I, iii, 69 ; I, tv, 35 ; lU, ii, 25 ; III, ii, 82. Wright: See the Dedication to K and A,^ 'I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me for chosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden.'
3. fears] For instances of this verb meaning to terrify, to frighten, see ScHMixyr, s. v.
5. provoking merit] Wa&burton : That is, a merit which, being neglected by the father, was provoked to an extravagant act. Mason : Provoking here means stimulating; a merit he felt in himself, which irritated him against a father that had none. Malone: Cornwall, I suppose, means the merit of Edmund, which, being noticed by Gloucester, provoked or instigated Edgar to seek his father's death. Warburton conceived that the merit spoken of was that of Edgar. But how is this consistent with the rest of the sentence ? Hudson : Cornwall means, apparently, a virtue apt to be provoked or stirred into act; which virtue was set to work by some flagrant evil in Gloucester himself. 'Provoking* (or provocable; the active form with the passive sense. Cowden Clarke : * An inciting desert.' This probably refers to what the speaker considers the discovered turpitude of Gloucester, which deserves punishment, and incites Edgar to seek his death, putting into activity the latter's blameable badness of character. The difficulty here arises from the uncer* tainty as to whom the pronouns 'him,' 'his/ and 'himself refer. Wright: A consciousness of his own worth which urged him oH. Moberly : Probably < an anticipative merit ; ' that is, a meritorious forestalling of crime by its punishment. Nichols {Notes, &c.. No. 2, p. 12) paraphrases : ' It was not altogether your brother's evil disposition that made him seek his death — ^the old man deserved it. There was a merit, a deserving on his part, " set a-work by a reproveable badness in himself," that provoked your brother to the act. " The provoking merit " was in Gloucester himself.'
6. a-work] See U, ii, 69 ; III, iv, 57 ; Ham, II. ii, 466 ; I, v, 19, or Abbott, $ 24.
204 ^^^(^ LEAR
[act III. SC V.
Edm. How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent 7 to be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an intelligent party to the advantages of France. O heavens ! that this treason were not, or not I the deteftor I 10
Com. Go with me to the duchess.
Edm. If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty business in hand.
Com. True or false, it hath made thee earl of Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is. that he may be ready for our 15 apprehension.
Edm. [Aside] If I find him comforting the king, it will stuff his suspicion more fully.— I will persever in my course of loyalty, though the conflift be sore between that and my blood.
Com. I will lay trust upon thee, and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love. fExtunt.
20
8. /rt/^] le//er which Ff+, Jen. Ec 18. perstver\ F F F . Del. Dyce Sta. Knt. Coll. Del. Wh Sch. am. Wr. Sch. pe^/^\T"^ l^
9. advaniagis\ advances Anon * 22. dearer] Qq. deere F F dear la this treason were not] his trea/on F^F^ Rowe, Sch. * **
^ Q^- [Exeunt] Exit. Oq.
17. [Aside] Theob. Om. QqFf. "" ^
8. to be Just] See III, iv, 141 ; or Abbott, §356.
9. intcUigent party] For the position of the adjective, compare IV i 3. or « our suffering country Under a hand accurst/— jlfer^. Ill, vi, 48. Schmidt how- ever, says that « to ' does not depend on • intelligent,* but on « party • *
17. comforting] Johnson: This word is used in the juridical sense for suptprt. ing, helping. Lord Campbell : The indictment against an accessory after thcft^ for treason, charges that the accessory • comforted ' the principal traitor after know* ledge of the treason.
18. persever] Wright: This represents the older pronunciation of the word which in Sh. has uniformly the accent on the second syUablc. \SttEam I ii 02 1
20. Wood] Wright; Natural temperament. SeeiKm.III, ii.64, [AkoZar
ACT III. SC. vij KING LEAR 20$
Scene VI. A chamber in a famtkause adjoining the castle. Enter Kbnt and Gloucester.
Glau. Here is better than the open air; take it thank- fully. I will piece out the comfort with what addition I can; I will not be long from you.
Kent, All the power of his wits have given way to his impatience. The gods reward your kindness I 5
[Exit Gloucester.
Enter Lear, Edgar, and Fool.
Edg. Frateretto calls me, and tells me Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness. — Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend.
FooL Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a yeoman. 10
LeaK A king, a king I
Fool. No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his
Scene Vl] Scena Sexta Ff (Scaena 5. revfard} de/erue Qq. preserve
F,). Scene v. Rowe. Scene ix. Cap. conj.
Pope. [Exit Gloucester.] As in Cap. Af-
A chamber castle.] Mai. A ter line 3, Ff + , Jen. Sch. Om. Qq.
Chamber. Rowe. A Chamber, in a [Enter...FooI.] Ff+, Jen. Sch.
Farm-house. Theob. A Room in some 6, Frateretto"] Fretereto Qq. Frater-
of the out-buildings of the Castle. Cap. retto Ff (Fraterreto F^).
Enter...] Ff. £nter...and Lear, Foole, 7. and] Om. Qq.
and Tom. Qq. 9. be] may bee Q,.
4. have] QqFf, Jen. Dyce, Sta. GI0+9 10. gentleman] Gentlemen F,.
Sch. hath Cap. has Pope et cet. 12-15. ^oo^- No,„Mm, Lear.] Om
to his] to Qq. Qq.
4. power • . . have] A plural by attraction, or, as Abbott, §412, terms it, by proximity. See Ham, I, ii, 38. 6. Frateretto] See Percy's note, III, iv, iii.
6. Nero] Upton (CnV. Obs. p. 235, ed. ii) : Nero was a fiddler [or rather, played on a hurdy-gurdy: <Neron estoyt vielleux.' — Ed.] in hell, as Rabelais tells us, ii, XXX. And Trajan was an angler [for frogs]. . . But players and editors, not willing that so good a prince as Trajan should have such a vile employment, substi* tuted Nero in his room, without any sense or allusion at all. From Rabelais, there- fore, the passage should be thus corrected : ' Trajan b an angler,' &c, Ritson : The History of Gargantua had appeared in English before 1575.
7. innocent] Steevens : He is here addressing the Fool. Fools were anciently called innocents. See AlPs fVell^ IV, iii, 13. CAPELL, however, supposed it to mean : ' Be innocent when you pray.*
18
206 KINC LEAR [act hi, sc. vi.
son, for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman, 13 before him
LeaK To have a thousand with red burning spits 15
Come hizzing in upon 'em, —
* Edg. The foul fiend bites my back.
* Fool. He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf,
* a horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath.
* Lear, It shall be done ; I will arraign them straight. — 20
* Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer. —
13. mad'\ Om. F,F^, Rowe, Pope, 19. a honii keaiihl the heels of a
Han. horse Warb. a horse's heels Sing it,
15, 16. To have...*em,-^] Prose, Qq, Ktly. Jen. a hors^s„„oa/h'] the health of a
16. hiniHg\ Ff. hi/king Q,. hijitng horse, the love of a boy, or the oath of a Q,, Jen. Knt, Del. Sing. Dyce, Sta. whore. Pope, Theob. Han. GI0.+, Sch. whining Mai. conj. Bos. 20. them] *em Pope, Theob. Han.
Coll. Wh. Ktly. Warb.
Viw,-1-] Viff— Theob. ^em. Ff. 21. [To the Fool. Han. To Edgar.
them. Qq, Cap. Jen. Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Cap. Coll. Del. justieer'jTheoh. i4(^fV/Qq,Pope,
17-54. Om. Ff, Rowe. Jen.
■ ■ ■■ , ■
13, 14^ he's • • • him] Collier : This seems to have been a proverbial expres- sion. Hudson : A rather curious commentary on some of the Poet's own doings ; who obtained from the Herald's College a coat-of-arms in his father's name ; thus getting his yeoman father dubbed a gentleman, in order, no doubt, that he himself might inherit his rank. Schmidt also alludes to this grant of arms to Shakespeare's father, which took place not long before the composition of Lear, and asks : Does the present passage refer to this incideYit ? If it do, might there not be a play upon words concealed in ' a mad yeoman,' that is ' a made yeoman,' a yeoman whose luck is made, or, since it is not necessary to be too precise in dealing with the Fool's wit, a complete, thorough yeoman ?
18, 19. Schmidt asks why the Fool says this? ' Does he wish merely to distract Lear, or to say that, in fact, the whole world is mad ?'
19. horse's health] Warburton : Read, * horse's heels,* t. e, to stand behind him. Johnson : Sh. is here speaking not of things maliciously treacherous, but of things uncertain and not durable. A horse is above all other animals subject to diseases. Ritson : //eels is certainly right. ' Trust not a horse's heel nor a dog's tooth ' is a proverb in Ray's Co/lection ; as ancient, at least, as the time of Edw.trd II : £t ideo Babio in comoediis insinuat, dicens : ' In fide, dente, pede, malieris, equi, canis, est fraus.' Hoc sic vulgariter est dici : 'Till horsis foote thou never traist. Till hondis toth, no woman's faith.' — Forduni Scotichronieofi, 1. xiv, c. xxxii. That in the text is probably from the Italian.
21. justicer] BosWELL: Thus Lambard's Eirenareha: < And of this it commeth that M. Fitzherbert (in his treatise of the Justices of Peace) calleth them justicers (contractly for justiciars), and not justices, as we commonly, and not altogether un« properly, doe name chem.'
ACT III, sc. vi.] KING LEAR 207
* Thou, sapient sir, sit here. — Now, you she-foxes 1 22
* Edg. Look, where he stands and glares I Wantest ♦thou eyes at trial, madam?
* Come o'er the bourn, Bessy ^ to me. 25
* FooL Her boat Itath a leak,
22. [To Edgar. Han. To the Fool. 23. glares] giars Qq.
Cap. fra«/«/]Theob.w<wfy?Q,. wanffl
here, — Now, you\ here, no you (l^. Q,. 2c;aif/(?M*j/ Seward, Jen. wantonest
heere, now you Q,. here. Now ye Pope + , Knt, Sing.
}cn. Knt. 24. trial, madam ?1 iral madam Q,.
foxes 1"^ foxes, Vo^. /bx«— Qq. triail madam, Q^.
23-28. Om. Pope, Han. 25. [Sings. Sta. conj.
2.3-25. ZM7^...me.] Cap. Prose, Qq. bourn] home Cap. Broome Qq,
Verse, the first line ending eyes, Theob. Theob. Warb. Johns, brook ]6tk'ns, conj.
>Varb. Johns. Cap. ( — Conigenda, vol. Jen.
x), Jen. £c. First line ending glares! 26. [Sings. Cam. Edd. conj.
Bos. Coll. Del. Sing. Wh. Ktly. 26, 27. Her...speak] Cap. One line,
23. he"] she Theob. Warb. Johns. Jen. Qq. Knt, Sing.
22. sapient] ScHMim* : Not elsewhere used by Sh.
23. Wantest] Steevens : This appears to be a question addressed to the vision* ary Goneril, or some other abandon'd female, and may signify, < Do you want to attract admiration j even while you stand at the bar of justice?* Seward proposes to read wantonest instead of ' wantest' TiECK : Possibly, Kent covers his face for a moment to conceal his anguish or his tears, or the Fool does so. Staunton (Library ed,), in place of Seward's 'plausible' conjecture, prefers 'IVanloniulh thou,' etc. Hudson : It is addressed to some visionary person who is supposed, apparently, to be on trial, but does not see the spectre. Cowden Clarke: This signifies : ' Look where the fiend stand^ and glares ! Do you want eyes to gaze at and admire you during trial, madam ? The fiends are there to serve your purpose.'
24. eyes] Bell (Sh, Puck, iii, xii) says this is the crier's proclamation at the opening of court : Oyez, commonly pronounced O Yes,
24. at trial] Johnson : It may be observed that Edgar, being supposed to be found by chance, and therefore to have no knowledge of the rest, connects not his ideafi with those of Lear, but pursues his own train of delirious or fantastick thought. Tb these words, • At trial, madam ? ' I think the name of Lear should be put. The process of the dialogue will support this conjecture. [Rann adopted this emenda- tion.] EccLES suggests that the whole speech be given to Lear, after changing ' he' to she, according to Theobald's text.
25. Capell was the first to change hroome of the Qq to ' boome ;' thb he did on the authority of the original song, which he printed, in his School, &c., p. 73, from a black letter Qto, n. d., by W. Wager, called 7he longer thou Ivi/st, the man Fool thou art, thus : < Here entreth Moros, counterfeiting a vaine gesture, and a foolish countenance, Synging the foote [t. e, the burdei^ of many Songes, as foolcs were wont. . . . Com' over the Boome Besse, My little pretie Besse Com over the Boome besse to me.' Steevens says this song was entered on the Stationers' Registers in 1564. But an earlier instance of this song was discoveied by Collier :, This and what follows
20S KING LEAR [act in, sc. vL
* And ski must not speak 27
* Why she dares not come over to thee.
* Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a
* nightingale. Hoppedance cries in Tom's belly for two white 30
* herring. Croak not, black angel ; I have no food for thee.
50. Hoppfdanee\^, Hcf^^anceQx^, Ec. Knt. Hopdanee Pope et cet. 31. Croak„4kee\ Separate line, Qq.
31. kerriHg\ herrings Pope+, Jen.
from the Fool are certainly parts of an old song, which was imitated by W. Birch in his < Dialogue between Elizabeth and England ' (printed by W. Pickering withoat date), which thus commences: ' Come over the bourn, Bessy, come over the bourn, Bessy, Sweet Bessy, come over to me; And I shall thee take, And my dear lady make Before all that ever I see.* It is in the same measure as the addition by the Fool. See also Old Ballads, &c., Percy Society, 1840. Wright says the date of Birch's song b 1558, and that it is printed in full in the Harleian Afisc, x, 260. Whitb refers to the curious fact that in the Merry IVives Master Brook's name is invariably spelled Broome in the Folio, which CoLLiEii's (MS) revealed to be a misprint for Bourne, Malone : There is a peculiar propriety in this address, that has not, I be- lieve, been hitherto observed. * Bessy ' and ' poor Tom,* it seems, usually travelled together. The author of the The Court of Conscience ^ or Dick Whippet^ s Sessions, 1607, describing beggars, idle rogues, and counterfeit madmen, thus speaks of these associates : < Another sort there is among you ; they Do ^ge with furie as if they were so frantique They knew not what they did, but every day Make sport with stick and flowers like an antique; Stowt roge and harlot counterfeited gomme; One calls herself poor Besse the other Tom! Halliwell gives the music of thts song from a sixteenth-century MS in the Brit. Mus. This music seems to have escaped Chap* PELL, although he refers to the song on p. 505 of his Popular Music,
27, 28. Schmidt : Perhaps we should read : ' And she roust not speak ; Why, she dares/ &c.
30. nightingale] Wright : Apparently suggested by the Fool's singing. Percy refers to a passage in Harsnet's Declaration, which seems to have no further con- nection with this than that a nightingale is mentioned in both places.
30. Hoppedance] This spelling may indicate the pronunciation ; see IV, i, 58. At all events, there is no reason why we should not follow our sole text in these monstrous names. See Percy's note on III, iv, iii. — Ed.
31. white herring] Steevens : That is, pickled herring. As You Like It ( Gent. Mag, Ix, 402) : There is no occasion to pickle the herring, whilst ' white herring' is provincial for fresh herring.
31. Croak] Steevens: In Harsnet's book, p. 194, 195, Sarah Williams (one of the pretended demoniacks) deposeth, < — ^that if at any time she • • • was troubled with a wind in her stomacke, the priests would say at such times, that then the spirit began to rise in her. And ' as she saith, if they he.ird any croaking in her belly . . . then they would make a wonderful matter of that.' Malone : * One time shce remembereth, that shee having the said croaking in her belly, they said it was the devil that was about the bed, that spake with the voice of a toad.' — Jbid^
ACT III. sc. vi.] KING LEAR 209
* Kent. How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed. 32
* Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions ?
* Lear. Til see their trial first — Bring in their evidence.—
* Thou robed man of justice take thy place. — 35
* And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity,
* Bench by his side. — ^You are o* th' commission
* Sit you too.
* Edg. Let us deal justly.
* Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? 40
* Thy sheep be in the com ;
* And far one blast of thy minikin mouth,
32, 33. Kent. IIow..xushionsf1 Thcob. 36. [To the Fool. Cap.
Prose, Qq. Om. Pope, Han. 37. [To Kent. Cap.
33. aishions} cushings Q,. ieHch,.aidi\ Separate line, DeL 34-38. rU,.,too\ Pope. Prose, Qq. Scb.
34. trial first. Bring\ Cap. (subs.) ^ M'] of the Han. Cap. Stecv. triail first, bring Qq, trial, bring m4 Var.
Pope, Han. trial first, bring me TYitoh. 39-45- ^g- Let,.gr€sy. Lear.] Om.
Warb. Johns. Jen. Pope, Han. ^
35. [To Edgar. Cap. 40-43. Sleepest..harm.] Theob. Prose^ robedl^ Pope, robbed Qq. Qq.
34* trial] Lord Campbell : This imaginary trial is conducted in a manner showing perfect familiarity with criminal procedure. Lear places the two judges on the bench, Mad Tom and the Fool. He properly addresses the former as * the robed man of justice,' but, although both were ' of the commission,' I do not quite understand why the latter is called his * yoke-fellow of equity,' unless tliis might be supposed to be a special commission, like that which sat on Mary, Queen of Scots, including Lord Chancellor Audley.
34. their evidence] Thus in the Qq, which Pope, followed by all editois, except Schmidt, needlessly changed to 'the evidence.' As Wright suggests, 'their «vi« dence ' means the evidence of witnesses against them.
40. Sleepest, &c.] Johnson : This seems to be a stanza of some pastoral song. Dyce : No doubt it is. Steevens : In Tke Interlude 0/ the Four Elements, 1519. Ignorance sings a song composed of the scraps of several others; among them is the following : < Sleepyst thou, wakyst thou, GefTery Coke.' Haluwell : Compare also the poem of King Arthur and the King 0/ Cornwall, printed from the Percy MS by Sir F. Madden: [Pertys Folio MS, i, 70] 'And when he came to the Kings chamber, he cold of his curtesie, says, 'sleepe you, wake yon, noble Kfw^ Arthur? & euer Jesus waken yee I ' Staunton ; As ' the foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale,' the representative of Edgar was surely intended by Sh. to sing these fragments of old ballads, and not tamely recite them after the manner of the modem stage.
41, 43. com, bann] See note on Shakespeare's rhymes, II9 ii!, 20^ 21.
42. blast] Collier (ed. 3) : Probably taste.
42. minikin] Stssvens : Baret's Ahtearie has [s. ▼. Fea(\ : ' Proper, feat^ weHi |8» O
210 KING LEAR [act ill. sc. vi.
* TJiy siteep shaU take no hann.
* Pur ! the cat is gray.
* Lear. Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take my 45
* oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked the poor
* king her lather.
* Fool. Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril ?
* Lear. She cannot deny it.
* Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool. 50
* Lear. And here's another, whpsewarp'd looks proclaim
* What store her heart is made on. — ^Stop her there !
* Arms, arms, sword, fire ! Corruption in the place I
* False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape ? *
Edg. • Bless thy five wits ! 55
Kent. O pity ! — Sir, where is the patience now,
That you so oft have boasted to retain ? Edg. My tears begin to take his part so much.
They mar my counterfeiting
45^7. L^father^l Om. P6pe, Han. 53. Corruption] eorruptimes H^n,
46. she\ Om. Q,. place\ palace Wh.
49. cannof] eanU Han. 57. retain} remain F^F^, RcfWe.
50. join/'S/oo/] Pope. ioyneftooU Q,. 58. [Aside. Rowe et cet. ioyntftooU Q,. join'd stool Wb. 59. They\ Ff + , Sch. TkeiU Q,. Tke^l
51. 52. And,.aherer\ Om. Pope. i^. They II Cap. ct cet
53. made on\ Cap. Ec. CoU. Sing. counter/eiting] counUrfetU^ (^ GI0+, Sch. made an Qq. made 0/ emmterfettingY^^
Theob. et cet.
fashioned, minikin, handsome.' Wright cites from the same * Elegant : neate, fresh, feate, goxigeous, gay, pretie, fine, minikin, tricke and trimme.*
44. Pur] Maxx>ne : This may be only an imitation of a cat. Purre is. however, one of the devils mentioned by Harsnet, p. 50.
50. joint-stool] Steevens : This proverbial expression occurs in Lilly's Mother Bombie^ 1594 [IV, ii; ed. Fairholt, vol. ii, p. 121 : 'I crie you mercy, I took you for a joynt stoole.' — ^Wright]. Haluwell: A common old proverbial phrase, the exact meaning of which has not been satisfactorily explained, but which may pet- haps be gathered from the following example : < Ante hoc te comua habere putatnm, I cry you mercy, I tooke you for a joynd stoole.' — Wiihals' Dictionary ^ ed. 1634,
p. 553.
52 store] Theobald (Nichols's Jllust, ii, 376) suggested stofu, which Collier and Keightley adopted. Jennens conjectured stuff, as did Jervis. Schmidt thinks that 'store' is surely wrong, and that Jennens's emendation is probable.
54. 'scape] Moberly : Probably in Lear's delirium the ideas succeed one another so rapidly that he cannot long hold the thought that he has Regan before him ; con* sequently the vanishing of the image seems to him like an actual escape of his daughter.
ACT III. sc vi.] KING LEAR 2 1 1
Lear. The little dogs and all, 6o
Tray, Blanch, and Swcct-heart, see, they bark at me.
-fia^. Tom will throw his head at them. — ^Avaunt, you cursl
Be thy mouth or black or white.
Tooth that poisons if it bite ; 6$
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound or spaniel, brach or lyfti.
Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail,
Tom will make him weep and wail ;
For, with throwing thus my head, 70
Dogs leaped the hatch, and all are fled
61. Tray] Trey QqF^F.Fj. Hym Ff + .
62-71. 7b/w..;/Ji'</] Rowe. Verse, the 68. Or Mtatl tike\ Bobtaili tike Q({.
firsl line ending you, Ff. Tom.„curs, a Or Bobtalle tight F,F^j (Bobtail Fj).
separate line, the rest prose, Qq. trundlt'taH\triidUtaUe^, Troudle
66, 67. mongret^m^ Hound] Rowe taiU F,F,. Troudle tail F^F^.
(subs.). MoHgrilU Grim^ Hound F( 69. Jim] Ff+, Jen. Ec. Knt, Wh.
(MungrilT^. mungril, grim-hcOd Q^^. Sch. M^xv Qq et cet. you Ec coTk\.
Mungrel^ Grim-hound Q,. 71. leaped] leapt Ff. Sch. leape Qq
67. lym\ Han. him Q,. Htm Q,. et cet.
6f . bark] Moberly : Not so much because they are set on me, as because they spontaneously catch the hard- hearted temper of their masters. 67. brach] See I, iv, 107.
67. lym] Steevens : In Jonson's Bartholomew Fair [T, i] : 'all the lime hounds o* the city should have drawn after you by the scent.' A limmer or learner^ a dog of the chase, was so called from the leam or leaih in which he was held till he was let slip. I have this information from Caius de Canibm Bntanmeis, So in the hook of Antient Tenures by T. B., 1679, the words 'canes domini regis lesos' are trans- lated * Leash hounds, such as draw after a hurt deer, in a leash or Ham! Again, in The Muses Elysium^ by Drayton : < My dog-hook at my belt, to which my lyam*s t/d.' Again : ' My hound then in my lyam,' &c. Capell derives it from the French hmier^ which CoTGRAVE defines: 'a Bloud hound, or Lime-hound.' RiTSON (p. 170): A* lym' seems to have been a large dog of the spaniel kind. < His cosin had a Lyme hound argent white.* — Harrington's Orlando Furioso, xli, 30. Again : < His Lyme laid on his back, he crouching down.' The word, differ- ently spelled, occurs a^n, p. 349 : ' Oliuero whose deuise is the Spaniell, or lyam hound.'
68. tike] Nares : A northern word for a common sort of dog, and still a frequeol tenn of reproach in Lancashire and Yorkshire [and in New England. — Ed.].
68. trundle-tail] Steevens: See Hey wood's Woman Killed with Kindtuss [Works, ii, 99. — ^Wright] : ' I, and your Dogges are trindle-tailes and curs.'
70. After this line in Edwik Booth's Frompt Booh there is the stage-direcdont •Throws straw crown to left.'
2 1 2 icmo LEAH [ACT III, sc. vL
Do, de, de, de. Sessa ! Come, march to wakes and fairs 72 and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry.
72, 73. i>^...flVy.] Two lines, the fint 7a. Sessa/ C0Mi]Sessfy,ccm€Fope'¥B
ending FayreSt in Ff+, Jen. £c. Jen. Bessy ^ come Anon. ap. Rann conj.
72. Dc.Sessa .'] Mai. Do, de, de, de : see, see / Come Coll. Wh. Ktly.
fe/e: Ff, Rowe. loudia docdia, Qq. 73. </iy.] dry,T^. dry. ExiL F,F,F^.
/><?, do, de, de, 6^^. [singing. Cap. Poor.,Jry'\ As an Aside, Cap.
73. Sessa !] See III, iv, 96. Steeveks : It is difficult in this place to say what is meant by this word. It should be remembered, that just before, Edgar had been calling on Bessy to come to him ; and he may now, with equal propriety, invite Sessy (per* haps a female name corrupted from Cecilia) to attend him to < wakes and fairs.' Nor is it impossible but that this may be a part of some old song, and originally stood
thus : < Sissy, come march to wakes. And fairs, and market towns .' [The jingle
into which the words naturally fall adds probability to this conjecture. — Ed.] As You Like It {Gen/, Mag, Ix, 402) conjectures that this is an address to an imagi- nary dog : * Sessy, or cesse, is still used in some counties to encourage dogs to come out of kennel/ &c., <so here it may mean to encourage a dog to follow him to wakes,' &c., for the sake of the good provisions to be found there. Moberly : It is probably like <sa, sa' below, a word used in following the hunt; being the name for a note played on the horn.
73. horn] Steevens : I suppose Edgar to speak these words aside, [See Text. Notes.] Being quite weary of his Tom o' Bedlam's part, and finding himself unable
to support it any longer, he says, privately : < I cap no more ; all my materials
for sustaining the character of Poor Tom are now exhausted ; my horn is dry;* i. e. has nothing more in it ; and accordingly we have no more of his dissembled madness till he meets his father in the next act, when he resumes it for a speech or two, but not without expressing the same dislike of it that he expresses here : * I cannot daub it further.* Malone ; A * horn * was usu.iUy carried about by every Tom of Bedlam, to receive such drink as the charitable might afford him, with whatever scraps of food they might give him. When, therefore, Edgar says his hortt is dry, or empty, I con- ceive he merely means, in the language of the character he assumes, to supplicate that it may be filled with drink. Sec a Pleasant Dispute betweefi Coach and Sedan, 1636 : *Tom-a Bedlam may sooner eate his horn, than get \i filled with small drinke; and for his old almes of bacon there is no hope in the world.' A horn so commonly meant a drinking-ctip that Coles's first explanation of it is in that sense : * A horn : Vas corneum.' DoucE: An opportunity here presents itself of suggesting a more correct mode of exhibiting the theatrical dress of Poor Tom than we usually see, on the, authority of Randle Holme in The Academy of Armory, iii, 161, where he says that the Bedlam has ' a long staff and a cow or ox-hpm by his side ; his cloathing fantastic and ridiculous; for, being a madman, he is madly decked and dressed all over with rubins, feathers, cuttings of cloth, and what not, to make him seem a mad- man or one distracted, when he is no other than a dissembling knave.' Dyce ( Gloss. f . V. Tom d Bedlam) : The following account from Aubrey's unpublished Natural History of Wiltshire was, I believe, first cited by D'Israeli in his Curiosities of Literature, I now give it as quoted by Mr HalliwcU from Royal Soc. Ms : < Till the breaking out of the Civill Warres, Tom t Bedlams did trauell about the countery. They had been poore distracted men that had been putt into Bedlam, where recov
ACT III, SC. vi.] KING LEAR 2 1 3
Lear. Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds about her heart Is there any cause in nature 75 that makes these hard hearts? — You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your garments. You will say they are Persian; but let them be changed.
Kent Now, good my lord,, lie here and rest awhile. 80
Lear. Make no noise, make no noise; draw the cur- tains; so, so. We'll go to supper i' th' morning.
74-79. Prose, Ff. Fiv^ lines, Qq. 78. Pfrsian] Ff+, Cap. Knt, Dycei»
Six lines, Ktly. Sta. Sch. Perfian attire Qq ct cet.
74. anatomiu\ anotomixe Qq. 79. [Enter Glofter. Ff. Re-enter...
75. her heart, /jr] her Hart is Q,. Pope +, Jen.
her. Hart is Q,. 80. a7td rest] Om. Qq.
76. makes'] make Ff, Rowe, Sch. [pointing to a mean Couch. Cap. these hard hearts f^'Rovre, the/e 81 ,.82. Prose, QqFf. Verse (ending
hard-hearts. F,F,. this hardnes^ Q,. first line, fwr/aiw), Rowe+, Jen. Ec. ;
this hardnejfe; Q,. (ending first line so, so,) Ktly.
[To Edgar. Cap. 82. so, so,] Ff+, Knt, Dyce i, Ktly,
77. for] you for Qq, Cap. Stecv. Ec Sch. fo, fo, fo. Qq et cot.. Var. Coll. Del. Sing. \Vh. Ktly. V the] in the Q,.
78. garments, Youwill say] garments »/<v7ii;/^.]Ff+,Knt,Dycei,Ktly, youiefay, Q,. garment; yonU fay Q^. Sch. morning, fo, fo, fo, Qq et cet.
ering to some soberncsse, they were licentiated to goe a begging. E. G. they had on their left arm an annilla of tinn, printed in some workes, about four inches long^ they could not get it off: they wore about their necks a great horn of an oxe in a string or bawdric, which, when they came to an house for almcs, they did wind ; and they did putt the drink given Ihem into this horn, whereto they did putt a stopple ' [See also II, iii, 14.]
76. that makes] Sck&iidt upholds . make of the Ff, maintaining that in Shake* spearian language it is a not uncommon subjunctive, and cites from Abbott, § 367 : * in her youth There is a prone and speechless dialect Such as move men.' — Meas.for Meas. I, ii, l88. Also, * No matter who see it.* — Rich. II : V, ii, 58 ; * I care not who know it.' — Hen. V: IV, vii, 117, &c.
78. Persian attire] Wright: The allusion is to the gorgeous robes of the East. So in Latin, * Persicus * was a synonym for splendid, as in the * Persicos apparatus ' of Horace, and the • Omatmn Persicum * of Cicero (De Sencct. 59). Moberly : A Persian embassy had been sent to England early in James I. reign, and a tombstone still remains in the churchyard of St. Botolph's, Bishopsgate Street, erected to the memory of the secretary of this embassy, with the following inscription : « If any Persian come here, let him read this and pray for his soul. The Lord receive his soul; for here lieth Maghmote (Mohammed) Shaughswarc, who was bom in the town Noroy in Persia.* The joke on outlandish dress arises probably from the presence of these Persians in London.
82. so, so] BUCKNILL (p. 207 ) : Lear is comparatively tranquil in conduct and language during the whole period of Edgar's mad companionship. It is only after
214 KING LEAR £act in. sc- rt
Fool. And I *11 go to bed at noon. 83
Rt'tnter Gloucesteiu Glou. Come hither, friend ; where is the king my master ? Kent Here, sir ; but trouble him not ; his wits are gone. 85 Glou. Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms ;
I have o'erheard a plot of, death upon him.
There is a litter ready; lay him in't,
And drive toward Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and proteflion. Take up thy master. 90
If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life.
With thine and all that offer to defend him,
Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up.
And follow me, that will to some provision
83. Fool. AKd,.,noon^ Om. Qq. thine^„JoJlle,,„proui/ton^ Qq. Re-enter...] Cap. Enter Glofler. Z^, Mt"] in it Q^
Qq (Glocefter Q,). 89. toward] torjjardi Qq.
84. Two lines, Ff. 91. ik<mldst'\ s/:ou/{t Johns,
8S-94. There„.provision] As in Ff. 93. Take up, take up"] Take vp the
Five lines, ending friend^,.n,tnajler^,*» King Q,. Take vp to keept Q,,
the Fool has disappeared, and Edgar has left to be the guide of his blind father, that the king becomes absolutely wild and incoherent. The singular and undoubted fact is, that few things tranquillize the insane more than the companionship of the insane. It b a fact not easily explicable, but it is one of which, either by the intuition of genius, or by the information of experience, Sh. appears to be aware.
Z"^, noon] Capell : This facetious speech of the Fool is meant as a preparation for losing him; for 'tis towards 'noon' with the play (that is, towards the middle of it) when he takes his leave of us in that speech. Cowden Clauke: This speech is greatly significant, though apparently so trivial. It seems but a playful rejoinder to his poor old royal master's witless nvords of exhaustion, but it is, in fact, a dis- missal of himself from the scene of the tragedy and from hb own short day of life. The dramatist indeed has added one slight passing touch of tender mcndon (Kent's saying, < Come, help to bear thy master; thou must not stay behind') ere he withdraws him from the drama altogether; but he seems by this last speech to let us know that the gentle-hearted fellow who * much pined away * at Cordelia's going into France, and who has since been subjected to still severer fret at his dear master's miseries* has sunk beneath the accumulated burden, and has gone to his eternal rest eren in the very * noon * of his existence. Moberly : The poor creature's fate was sure to be hard when he was separated from his master, under whose shelter he had offended so many powerful persons. [See C. A. Brown's note, I, iv, 91.]
87. upon] See Macb, III, i, 16; V, iii, 7.
93. assured loss] Delius : Equivalent to < assurance of loss/ a bold construc- tion, similar to that in Otk, II, i, 51 : ' my hopes . . . stand in bold cure ;' and again* as it is in line 98 of this scene, ' stand in hard cure.'
ACT III. sc. vi.] KING LEAR 21 5
Give thee quick condu6t
* Kent Oppressed nature sleeps. 95
* This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken sinews,
* Which, if convenience will not allow,
* Stand in hard cure. — Come, help to bear thy mastei ,
* Thou must not stay behind.
* Glon* Come, come, away. [Exeunt Kent, Gloucester, and the Fool, bearing off the King.
* Edg. When we our betters see bearing our woes, icx>
* We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
95-99. Kent. Oppresfd, behind. Warb, Johns.
Glou.] Om. Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. 98. [To the Fool. Theob.
95. Ofpress^d"] Theob. Warb. Johns. 99. Come, come,'] Come, away^ Pope. Cap. Stcev. Bos. Coll. Dyce, Wh. Op^ [Exeunt...] Cap. Exit. Qq. Ex« prejfed Qq et cet. eunt. Ff. Exeunt, bearing off the King.
96. baMd"] Theob. balmed Qq. Manet Edgar. Theob. Exeunt all but sinews] Qq, Del. Dyce, Wh. Cam. Edgar. Glo. -f , Sch.
Wr. Sch. senses Theob. et cet. 100-113. Ona. Ff.
97-99. IVhteh.^behind,] Theob. Two too, loi. IVhen foes] As in Q^
lines, the first ending cure, Qq. Prose, Q,.
97. convenience] conveniency Theob.
95. Oppress'd nature sleeps] Schmidt: What follows would be better intro- duced by ' oppressed nature, sleep ! ' * Thy ' in the next line is more appropriate if we suppose it to be addressed to ' nature ' rather than to Lear.
96. sinews] Theobald (Nichols's JIhist, ii, 377) suggested senses, and after- wards adopted it in his text. Maloke supported the emendation by a reference to ' innocent sleep . • . Balm of hurt minds' in Macb. II, ii, 39, and to * Th' untun'd and jarring senses' in this play, IV, vii, 16. But Deuus thinks the emendation need- less, because ' sinews ' is used elsewhere by Sh. as equivalent to nerves, and, more- over, in connection with this very verb < break,' as in Twelfth Night, II, v,.83 : 'we break the sinews of our plot.' Schmidt (Z/jt.) gives what is perhaps a more appo» site instance : * a second fear through all her sinews spread.' — Ven. and Ad, 903. Halliwell (reading < sinews ') asks : But is the verb to balm, or soothe, likely to be applied to ' sinews ? ' Hudson, on the other Band, says that Theobald's change < is most certainly right. Why, Lear has no broken sinews; he is out of his senses; that is, his wits are brokeii. Moreover, sleep does not heal broken sinews ; but it has great healing efficacy upon such ** perturbations of the brain ** as the poor old king is racked with.' Wright agrees with Delius that the change is not * absolutely necessary, for Lear had received a great physical as well as mental shock.'
100, 113. Theobald: This soliloquy is extremely 6ne, and the sentiments of it are drawn equally from nature and the subject. Johnson : The omission of these lines in the Folio is certainly faulty; yet I believe the Folio is printed from Shake- speare's last revision, carelessly and hastily performed, with more thought of short- cning the scenes than of continuing the action. Cambridge Editors : Every editot firom Theobald downwards, except Hanmer, has reprinted this speech from the Qo
21 6 KING LEAR [act in, sc. vi,
* Who alone suffers, suffers most i* th* mind, 102
* Leaving free things and happy shows behind.
* But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip,
* When grief hath mates, and bearing, fellowship. 105
* How light and portable my pain seems now,
* When that which makes me bend makes the king bow,
* He childed as I father'd ! Tom, away I
* Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray
102. suffers t suffers mos/] Theob. fatherd^ Q,.
fufftrs/ttffers, moft Q,. fuffers^ mojl (^. 109. After bewray, Warb. marks an
104. doth'\ does Theob. Warb. Johns. omission.
108. father' dl\ Theob. fathered^ Q,. thyself^ then thy/elfeX^^
In deference to this consensus of authority we have retdned it, though, as it seems to us, internal evidence is conclusive against the supposition that the lines were written by Sh. Delius (A^«» Sh, Soc. Trans. 1875-6, p. 143) : If we oppose this view [of the Cam. Edd.], it is because we cannot comprehend how a spurious passage appeared in the Qq ; for we can hardly ascribe the authorship of the supposed in* terpolation to the publisher, considering what we know of him and his method of work. Neither can we suppose that he would attempt to amplify and improve the MS before him of Kin^ Lear, as it was then performed. But even the internal evidence, from which the Cam. Edd. might be inclined to condemn Edgar's mono- logue, fails to convince us of its spuriousncss. We readily admit that the style is not that of the rest of the drama; but this difference may be explained in two ways, partly by the form, and partly by the matter. Sh. is fond of introducing such rhyming lines, formed of a number of pointed, epigrammatic, antithetical sentences. They stand out from the surrounding blank verse, and point the moral of the preceding situation, and the actions of the various characters. The second explanation is, that the poet lays great stress on the parallelism existing between the families of Lear and Gloucester, and takes this opportunity of impressing it again upon his audience. A mere interpolator would hardly have known of this peculiar tendency of the poet, or have carried it out so thoroughly, and in so pregnant a manner, as in the few but thoroughly Shaksperian words : ' He childed as I fathered.' For the same reason it is more than improbable that Sh. should have cut out this passage [Delius is arguing that the omissions in the Ff were not by Sh., but by the actors], thereby thwarting his own purpose.
103. free things] Heath : Things free from suffering.
105. bearing] Delius: A substantive. Schmidt: 'Bearing,* used thus abso- lutely for suffering, is very unusual ; we may, therefore, suppose that * bearing fellow- ship ' is equivalent to companionship-in'Sufferiu^ ; in this case « bearing * refers to •grief/
108. childed, father'd] For similar instances of passive verbs, see I, i, 203.
109. high noises] Capell : The present signal disturbances among the high and great. Steevens : The loud tumults of approaching war. Johnson : Attend to the great events that are approaching^ and make thyself known when that < false opinion'
ACT III. SC. vii.] KING LEAR 2 1 J
* When false opinion, whose wrong thoughts defile thee, i lO
* In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee.
* What will hap more to-night, safe 'scape the king 1
* Lurk, lurk.* \ExU.
Scene VII. Gloticestcf^s castle.
Enter CORNWALL, Reoan, Gonertl, Edmund, and Servants.
Com, \To Goneril?^ Post speedily to my lord your hus- band; show him this letter; the army of France is landed — Seek out the traitor Gloucester. \Exeunt some of the Servants.
Reg. Hang him 'instantly.
Gon. Pluck out his eyes. 5
Com. Leave him to my displeasure. — Edmund, keep you our sister company. The revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous &ther are not fit for your beholding.
1 10. thoughts defili\ Qq, Jen. Walker, Regan] and Regan, and Q,. Om.
Dyce ii, Ktly, Sch. thought defiles F^F^, Theob. et cet. Edmnnd, and Servants.] Theob.
1 12. What will hap'\ What willy hap Baflard, and Seruants. Ff. and Ballard. Theob. Warb. Johns. Jen. Qq.
What. to-nig/it.l What. to- i. [ToGoneril]Ed. Om.QqFfetcct.
night ? Cap. x-3. Two lines, the first ending Letter^
113. [Exit.] Om. Qq. in Qq.
Scene vii .] Scena Septima Ff (Scsena 3. traitor} villaine or vilaine Qq, Cap.
F,). Scene VI. Rowe. Scene x. Pope +, Mai. Steev. Bos. Glo. Wr.
Jen. [Exeunt...] Cap. Om. QqFf.
Gloucester's castle.] Rowe. A 6-10. Leave^Jike.} Four lines, Q..
Room in the Castle. Cap. 7, revenges} reuenge Qq.
now prevailing against thee shall, in consequence of 'just proof* of thy integrity, revolce its erroneous sentence, and recall thee to honour and reconciliation.
no. thoughts defile] For the sake of rhyme Theobald changed this to thought defiles; but Walker [Crit. i, 143), in his Article on 'occasional licenses of rhyme in Sh. and his contemporaries,' shows, by many instances, how common such an imperfect rhyme, as this, is.
112. What] Abbott, § 254: Equivalent to whatever. The construction may be « Happen what will,' a comma being placed after * will,' or « Whatever is about to happen.' Probably the former is correct, and * will ' is emphatic, ' hap ' being optative*
2. letter] Delius : The letter that Edmund gave to Cornwall in III, v, 8.
6. displeasure] Collier (ed. 2): The (MS) has disposure; but, though it may have been the actor's, or possibly the poet's, word, we make no alteration, the mean ing being evident. 19
2 1 8 KING LEAR [act ni. sc. vJL
Advise the duke, where you are going, to a most festinate preparation; we are bound to the like. Our posts shall lO be swift and intelligent betwixt us. — Farewell, dear sister — Farewell, my lord of Gloucester. — \Enter Oswald.] How now, Where's the king ?
Osiv. My lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence. Some five or six and thirty of his knights, 15
Hot questrists after him, met him at' gate ; Who, with some other of the lord's dependants,
9. Advise\ Adiace F,. ard. Ff. After king? line 13, Qq. tt^A^r/] wA/ii Steev. 78, '85. ^S-^P. Some,..friends,'\ Prose, Qq.
festinate] fp/luantQi\, feJliuateY^ 1 6. ijuestrists] quejlriti Qq. questert
ia-l2. Our.^Cloucester,'] Two lines. Pope, Han. Qq. after him] after Han. (misprint ?).
IG. posts] post Q,. poste Q,. at '] Ed. at QqFf et cet.
11. and intelligent] and intelligence 17. lord^s] Pope. Z<?r^/QqFf,Theob. Qq. in intelligence Cap. (withdrawn Warb. Johns. Dycc, Sta. Glo.4, Huds. in MS»). Sch.
12. Enter Oswald.] G)ll. Enter Stew-
9. festinate] Capell: Speedy. Delius: Sh. uses « festinalely ' as an affected word in Love's Lab, III, i, 6. Schmidt : Not elsewhere used by Sh.
10. bound] Delius : This does not mean obliged^ but rather ready, prepared, Wright: As in Nam. I, v, 6 : * Speak; I am bound to hear.'
11. intelligent] See III, i, 25.
12. Gloucester] Johnson: Meaning Edmund, newly invested with his father's titles. [See III, v, 14.] Oswald, speaking immediately after, mentions the old earl by the same title.
16. questrists] Capell: An inquirer or quester; French, qtusteur. Heath: If we would read English, we must read questists, Eocles calls attention to a Dublin edition of Sh. published by Ewing, wherein Heath's conjecture is printed querist* Wright : A word of Shakespeare's coinage.
16. at' gate] The apostrophe indicates the absorption of the definite article. See II, ii, 116.— Ed.
17. lord's dependants] Hudson: Some other of the dependant lords^ or, as we should say, the lords dependant; meaning lords of the kifig's retinue, and dependant on him. It is sometimes printed * lord^i dependants,' which gives a wrong sense, making the men in question Gloucester's dependants. [I fear I must dissent. In my opinion it is precisely Gloucester's dependants who are meant. We have heard oi no lords who were dependent on the king. He had certain knights, and of these 6ve or six and thirty had come to seek him, and, under the guidance of some of Gloucester's followers, they had all hurried off to Dover If it were Lear's own knights and his own lords dependent who had him in charge, what do Cornwall and Regan mean by asking Gloucester to whom he had sent the lunatic king, and whither he had sent him ? I cannot but think that these questions must refer to Gloucester's agency in the matter implied by his having dispatched the king under the escort of some of his own followers. — ^Ed.] Schmidt says that they were
ACT III, sc. VU.1 KING LEAR 2 1 9
Are gone with him toward Dover; where they boast 1 8
To have well-armed friends.
Com. Get horses for your mistress.
Con. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. 20
Cam. Edmund, fiirewelL —
\Exeunt Goneril, Edmund, and Oswald. Go seek the traitor Gloucester. Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. —
[Exeunt other Servants. Though well we may not pass upon his life Without the form of justice, yet our power Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men 25
May blame but not control. — ^Who's there ? the traitor?
Enter Gloucester, brought in by two or thru.
Reg. Ingrateful fox 1 'tis he. Com. Bind last his corky arms.
18. toward'] towards Qq, Cap. Steer. 23. well] Om. Qq.
£c. Var. Coll. Del. Dyce ii, Wh. 25, 26. ShaU..Ma»ie] One line, Qq.
19. well-armed] Hyphen. Pope. 25. eottrtesy] ewrteJU Qq. curt*JU [Exit Oswald. Sta. Ff+, Wh.
21. [Exeunt...Oswald.] Dyce. Exit 26. Scene XI. Pope+,Jcn. Con. and Baft, (after line 20), Qq. Exit. H^'s] PVho/e Q^.
(after line 20), Ff. Exeunt....Steward« Enter...three.] Qq. Enter Clou*
(after line 20), Cap. cefter, and Seniants. Ff. (after eomp-
22. [Exeunt other Servants.] Cap. troll). Om. QqFf.
Tassals of Cornwall who had declared for Lear and betaken themselves to the French army.
23. pass upon] Johnson : That is, pass a judicial sentence. Steevens : The origin of the phrase may be traced to Magna Charta: <nec super eum ibimus, nisi per legale judicium parium suorum.' It is common to most of our early writers. In jy This be not a Good Play, the Devil is in it, 16 1 2, we have ; * A jury of brokers, impanel'd, and deeply sworn to passe on all villains in hell.' Wright: In Sped- ding's Letters and Life of Bacon, ii, 283, there is a list of « The Names of the Peers that passed upon the trial of the two Earls ' of Essex and Southampton. [It is still in every-day use at the Bar and among conveyancers. — Ed.] Moberly : Magna Charta prevailed, it appears, in England even in the days of Joash, king of Judah.
25. courtesy] Johnson: That is, to gratify, to comply with. Steevens: I believe it means simply, bend to our wrath, as a courtesy is made by bending the body. Schmidt {Lex,) : That is, obey. Compare ' Bidding the law make courl'sy to their will,* Meas, for Meas, II, iv, 175. Wright: To yield, give way to. Com- pare Hen. V: V, ii, 293 : « nice customs curtsy to great kings.'
28. corky] Johnson: Dry, withered, husky. Percy: It was probably suggested
220 KING LEAR [act in, sc. viL
Glau. What means your graces? Good my friends, 29 consider You are my guests ; do me no foul play, friends. 30
Cam. Bind him, I say.
Reg. Hard, hard— O filthy traitor I
Glou. Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none.
Cam. To this chair bind him. — ^Villain, thou shalt find —
Glou. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done To pluck me by the beard. 35
Reg. So white, and such a traitor I
Glau. Naughty lady.
These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your host; With robbers* hands my hospitable iavours You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? 40
2^30. What,..fnmdi:\ Three lines, 33* /w^'—] Qq. findi, F,Fg. find.
the first two ending Graca K.^Ghefis^ in F,F^.
Ff. [Regan pincks his beard.] Johns.
29. meami F,, Sch. meams QqF,Fg. 34, 35. Prose, Qq.
mean F^ et cct. 36, 37. Naughty, .^hin\ One line, Qq.
fiiends] frietuU [to the Ser.Cap. 38. I ami /*jw Pope+, Dyce ii.
MS* (? after line 30). 39. robbir^l Theob. iL rMersQ<{Ft,
31. [They bind him. Rowe. robbei^s Pope.
32. Pm none\ Pme n&m F,. Itiu /avourt\ favour Han. Warb* nam F^ / am none Cap. Steey. £c. Johns. Ktly.
Var. ColL Del. Wh. / am true Qq. 40. rujiel ruffeU Qq.
33. Two lines, Ff. do /] doe. Q^ doe F,. do F,.
by a passage in Harsnet's DeclaroHoni * It would (I feare me) pose all the cunning ExordstSy that are this day to be found, to teach an old corkie woman to writhe, tumble, cnruet, & fetch her Morice gamboles, as Martha Brossier did' [p. 23^ according to Wright, from whom I have quoted it, as presumably more correct than Percy*— Ed.].
29. means] As Abbott, S335, says, a singular verb (or, more correctly, an apparently singular verb), when it precedes the plural subject, may almost be r^^arded as the normal inflection. See Macb, IL iii, 137 ; Nam, III, iv, 202, and the numerous examples collected by Abbott.
34. kind gods] Wa&burton» with superfluous refinement, supposed that the dii kospitaies were here alluded to. Capell agrees with him.
39. hospiuble favours] Both Jennens and Capell think that < favours* refers to Gloucester's silver hairs. But Steevens shows that it means the ' features, i . e, the different parts of which a face is composed. So in Drayton's epistle from Matilda to King yohn [p. 87, ed. 1748.] : « Within the compass of man's face we see. How many sorts of several favours be." ' Schmidt {Lex.) gives from I Sen. IV: III. H, 136 : < And stain my favours in a Uoody mask.'
ACTlll,SC.vu.] KING LEAR 221
Cam. Come, sir, what letters had you late from France ? 41
Reg. Be simple-answer'd, for we know the truth.
Com. And what confederacy have you with the traitors Late footed in the kingdom ?
Reg. To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? 45 Speak.
Glou. I have a letter guessingly set down, Which came from one that's of a neutral heart And not from one opposed.
Com^ Cunning.
Reg^ And false.
Com, Where hast thou sent the king ?
Ghu. To Dover. 50
Reg. Wherefore to Dover ? Wast thou not charged at peril —
Com. Wherefore to Dover? — Let him answer that
Glou. I am tied to th' stake, and I must stand the course.
Reg. Wherefore to Dover ?
Glou. Because I would not see thy cruel nails 55
Pluck out his poor old eyes, nor thy fierce sister In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
41. Come^ sir^ Separate line, Ff. 51. Two lines, Ff, Rowe, Cap. Jen.
42. strnpU-amwer^ d'\ Han. Jtmple Sch.
en/wet^ d Ff, Rowe, Sing. Jimple an" to Dover F.,.peril'\Otit\\nt,S\t^v.
fwerer Qq, GI0. + , Mob. Bos. Coll. Wh.
43,44. AndwAar.MngdomflKoy^t. pert'/—'] ptrill. F,F,Fj. peril?
Prose, QqFf. F,, Rowe, Cap. thy peril Steev.
44. Laiel lately Q,. 52, answer'\ firft an/wer Qq. Theoh. 45,46. To.,.Speak.'\ Han. One line, Qq, Warb. Johns. Cap. Jen. Sta. Glo. + ,
Klly . Two, the first ending hands, Ff, Sch. $3- Two lines, Ff.
45. have you sent"] you haue /ent Q^^, 54. Dover ^'^ Dover, Jir Qq, Jen^ Ff, Rowe. Sch. GI0.+, Mob.
47. lAave'] /'w Han. 57. anointed'] auryntedQ^,
49. Cunning.'] Cunning — Rowe-f, stieA] rajk Qq, Coll. Sing. Ktly. Jen. 58. as his bare] on his loufd Q,. 0/
50. Dover] Dover, sir Han. his lou*d Q^.
53. course] See Macb, V, vii, i, 2.
57. stick] Steevens : Rash of the Qq b the old hunting term for the stroke made by a wild boar with his tusks. It occurs in Spenser, Faerie Queene, b. IV, c. ii : ' And shields did share, and mailes did rash, and helmes did hew.' Again in b. V, c. iii : * Rashing off helmes, and ryving plates asunder.' Dyce (Remarks, &c. p. 229) quotes the following note by GiFFORD : * To rash (a verb which we have 19*
M2 KING LEAR [act in, sc. vil.
In hell-black night endured, would have buoy'd up,
And quench'd the stelled fires ; 60
Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to raia
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
Thou shouldst have said : ' Good porter, turn the key,
All cruels else subscribe/ But I shall see
59. htU-black nighi\ Pope. HilU 62. htrwVd that ittrn\ heard that
blachi^ight FT. hell blaeke night Qc{. deame Qq. howPd that deam Cap.
huoyd'l bod Q,. Ai/V/Q,. boWd Sing. Kily.
Warb. Coll. (MS), Quincy (MS). 63. '(;M^..j(i7] As aquoUtion, Johns.
60, 6x. And»,»heart,'\ One line, Qq. and all edd. since.
6a stelled'\Jleeled Q;Qy Rowe, IV;^ 63, 64. « Good,..tubserihe*\ As a quo-
tUllar Han. Jen. Ec. tation, Ed.
tu halp"] holpt Qf\, Jen. hilfd 63. (;Mi/]^,Theob.ii, Warb. Johns.
Pope+, 64. subscribe"] Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han.
nms] rage Qqi Cap. Jen. Sch. /ub/erib'd Qq et cet
impitmdently suffered to grow obsolete) is to strike obliquely with violence, as a wild boar does with his tusk. It is obserrable with what accuracy Sh. has corrected the old Quarto of XtngLear^ where, instead of rash^ he has properly given < stick.'— Nae on ' Sir, I mist my purpose in his arm, rash'd his doublet sleeve,' &c — ^Jonson*s Every Man Out of his Humour^ IV, iv. Walker (Crii, iii, 280) cites from Chap- nan's niad^ V, p. 63 [old fol.] : ' Then nish*d he out a lance at him,* &c. Letisom in a foot-note says : < Gifford speaks of Shakespeare's correcting the Quarto, as if that were an ascertained fact, whereas it is only the doubtful supposition of certain editors. Chapman's rush seems only another form of rash. Both seem applied to the weapon inflicting the injury.'
59. heU-bUck] Capsll: This b(4d epithet is deriv'd probably from Hakluyt, who in his third volume, p. 849, hits the compound ^heU-darke.' [Is it not high time that we should desist from our groundless admiration of a plagiarist like Shake- speare ?— Ed.]
59. tmoy'd up] Heath : Used here as the middle voice in Greek, signifying to buoy, or lift, itself up. Whits considers <boU'd' a very plausible reading. SCHinoT: The verb is found in Sh. only here; the noun, in its ordinary significa- tion, only in IV, vi, 19. The verb is here transitive, and the phrase means : the sea would have lifted up the fixed fires and extinguished them.
60. atelled] Theobald: An adjective coined from stella. In Latin we have Doth sUllans and stellatus, Schmidt : But Sh. uses a verb to sUU, ut.to place^ to fix: 'Mine eye hath played the painter, and hath stell'd Thy beauty's form in table of my heart.' — Sen, zxiv. [So also ' To this well-painted piece is Lucreoe come, To find a face where all distress is stell'd.'—^. of Z. 1444.— Ed.]
6a. atem] Steevens: Deame^oi the Qq means lonely, solitary, obscure, melan* choly, &c. See Per, III, i, 15. 'Stem/ however, is countenanced by a passage in Chapman's Horner^ Riad^ xxiv : ' In this so steme a time Of night and danger.* CoLUEE suggests that deam was Shakespeare's word, but was misheard < stem.'
64. cruels else subscribe] Johnson : Yielded, submitted to the necessity of the occasion. Heath : That is, submitted their cmelty to the compassion they felt s»
ACT 111. sc vii.) KING LEAR ^2$
[64. All cruels else subscribe]
the sight of his wretchedness. Capell: That is, subscrib*d to pity, subscribM or assented to it's being exercis'd here. Collier, Dyce, and Singer adopt Johnson's interpretation. Knight, Staunton, and White are silent. Cowden Clarke says
* cruels' is used for cruelties ^ as does also Wright, who refers to Abbott, $9, for adjectives used as nouns. Abbott, § 433, : That is, * All cruel acts to the con« trary being yielded up, forgiven.* Compare for the meaning, IV, vii, 36, and For
* subscribe,' Tro, and Cress, IV, v, 105. Another explanation is, ' all other cruel animals being allowed entrance.' Jervis (p. 23) conjectures quarrels, Moberly : All harshness otherwise natural being forborne or yielded from the necessity of the lime. Schmidt: 'All cruels' can mean nothing else but a// cruel creatures. In turning adjectives into nouns, the old language went very far, but in no instance farther than Sh. went in this phrase. In the singular, ' cruel ' is found in San. cxlix : * Canst thou, O cruel, say I love thee not ? ' The examples adduced by Abbott refer also to the singular. At all events it is proved by them (as well as by the passages cited in the present writer's Lexicon^ p. 141 5) that the cruel, as a sub- stantive, can only mean the cruel ^son or thing, not cruelty; as little can th^ eU mean old age, or the young mean youth. All interpretations, therefore, which involve this abstract idea are inadmissible. Even .those editors who interpret 'cruels' cor- rectly adopt subscribed of the Qq. and hold it to be the imperfect tense. It is far better to follow the Folio and to interpret the sentence thus : ' Everything, which is at other times cruel, shows feeling or regard ; you alone have not done so.' Sh. uses the phrase to subscribe to sotnething in the sense of declaring one's self conquered by something, of yielding, complying. It is used exactly in the same sense as here, in Tro, and Cress. IV, v, 105 ; ' For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes To tender objects,' that is. Hector yields if he is brought face to face with anything touching or tender; he vS sensible to tender impressions. [This is to me the most puzzling phrase in this play, more puzzling even than 'runaways' eyes' or 'the dram of eale ' ; the multitude M emendations proposed for these latter show how easily the idea of the phrase is groisped ; anybody, and everybody, is ready with an emenda- tion there ; here it is different. None of the interpretations are, to my mind, satis- factory. The latest, Mr Joseph Crosby*s {Epitome of Lit,, i June, 1879), refers < cruels ' to feelings, (which is, to me, ' far wide,') and emphasizes ' else.' He thus paraphrases : ' All ihy feelings, no matter how cruel or inhuman " else," i. /. at any other time, or under any other circumstances, having *' subscribed," i . i. succumbed, to the terrors of that storm, and yielded \o the pity for the old king, thy father.' In a case as puzzling as thU, anything, as Dr Johnson says elsewhere, may be tried ; my attempt b seen in the text. Not unnaturally, I think it is the true reading ; it adheres to the venerable authority of the First Folio, making ' subscribe ' an imperative like ■turn.' The drift of the whole passage is the contrast betweeq the treatment which Regan's father had received and that which would have been dealt, in that stem time, to wolves and other animals, howsoever cruel. ' Thou shouldst have said : Good porter, open the gates, acknowledge the claims of all creatures, however cruel they may be at other times; ' or, perhaps : ' open the gates; give up all cruel things else,' t. e. forget that they are cruel. As in I, ii, 24, Lear ' subscribed ' his powers, so here the porter should ' subscribe all cruels,' t . e, he should surrender, yield, give up what- joever was cruel in the poor beasts, and see only their claim to his compassion. An exactly parallel use of ' subscribe ' cannot perhaps be found in Sh. ; and if this be
224 KING LEAR [act in, sc. viL
The winged vengeance overtake such children. 65
Cam. See't shalt thou never ! — Fellows, hold the chair !— Upon these eyes of thine I '11 set my foot
67. thise\ tho/e (2q> Jen. Gloster is held down in his Chair, while
[Gloster is held down while Cora- Corawal plucks out one his Eyes, and wall treads ont one of his Eyes. Rowe. stamps on it. Cap.
deemed fatal to my interpretation, I can only express my regret, and meekly suggest that the present instance may be a hapax Ugomtnon, — Ed.]
66. Cafell: The barbarity exerds'd upon Gloucester is indeed a part of the story that was the source of this episode, for that ' Paphlagonian king's ' eyes were put out by a son ; but the putting-out of poor Gloucester's seems to be more immediately copy'd from Selimus, Steevens : In SeUmm, Emptror of the TurJh, one of the sons of Bajaset pu/ls out the eyes of an Aga on the stage, and says : • Yes thou shalt live, but never see that day. Wanting the tapers that should give thee light [Puiis cut his eyes.* Immediately after, his h&nds are cut off. I have introduced this passage to show that Shakespeare's drama was not more sanguinary than that of his contemporaries. Malone: In Marston*s Antonio* s Revenge^ 1602, Piero*s tongue is torn out on the stage. Da vies {Dram, Misc. ii, 197) : After all, Sh. might possibly contrive not to execute this horrible deed upon the stage, though it is so quoted in the book. ... At the present, the sufferer is forced into some adjoining room; and the ears of the audience are more hurt by his cries than their eyes can be when he is afterwards led on the stage. The gold-beaters' skin, applied to the sockets, as if to staunch the bleeding, abates something perhaps of the hideousness of the spectacle. Coleridge : ' What can I say of this scene ?— There is my reluctance to think Shake- speare wrong, and yet .* Elsewhere Coleridge says: «I will not disguise my
conviction that in this one point the tragic in this play has been urged beyond the outermost mark and nf plus ultra of the dramatic' TiECK (vol. ix, p. 368, ed. 1833) V This scene, which is manifestly too horrible, and shocks our very senses, is rendered still worse by the explanation and the scenery that are intruded. Almost always when, now-a-days, such a scenic representation is attempted, false methods are employed, because the architecture and arrangements of the old theatre are not kept in mind, but confounded with our modem constructions. • . . The chair, in which Gloster !s bound, is the same from which, elevated in the centre of the scene, Lear 6rst speaks^ This lesser stage, in the centre, when not used was hidden by a cur* tain, that was drawn aside whenever it was necessary. Thus Sh., like all the dra- matists of the time, often had two scenes at once. The nobles in Henry VIII zst standing in the ante-chamber, the curtain is drawn, and we are directly in the chamber of the king. So also, when Cranmer has to wait in the ante-chamber, the council- room opens. Thus there was this advantage, that through the pillars, which sep- arated this little stage in the centre from the proscenium or stage proper, there could be represented not only a double action, but also at the same time it might be half or partly hidden, and so two scenes might be represented which were perfectly intelligible, although not everything on the lesser stage was visible. Thus Gloster sate, probably out of sight, while Cornwall, near him, was seen, Regan standing in the fore-stage, lower than Cornwall, but close by him, with the attendants on the stage itself. Corn- wall, horribly enough, tears out Gloster's eye, but the act is not positively seen; soma
ACT III. SC. vii.] KING LEAR 225
[66. The blinding of Gloucester.]
of the servants, holding the chair, stand in the way, and the curtain on one side (for it was divided into two) was drawn before the spectator. The expression that Com* wall uses, ' Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot/ is not to be taken literally ; it certainly is not so intended. During the speech of CornwalVs, one of the servants rashes up to the higher stage and wounds him; Regan, who is below, snatches a sword from another attendant and stabs the servant from behind. The groups are all in motion, and, while attention is distracted, Gloster loses his other eye. His cry is heard, but he is not seen. He disappears, for there was egress from the lesser stage also. Cornwall and Regan come forward and retire by the side scene, and the scene ends with the talk of some of the attendants. It is in this way, which some* what lessens its horror, that the scene pictures itself to my mind. The Poet trusted, indeed, to the strong minds of his friends who were to be so much moved by the general horrors of the representation, as not to linger over the bloody particulars, Ulrici (p. 458) : To have the scene where Cornwall puts out Gloster*s eyes repr^ sented directly on the stage, can only arouse a feeling of disgust, which has nothing in common with the idea of beauty, nor with that of grandeur, power, or sublimity^ and which, consequently, can only impair the effect of the tragedy. Whether or not the nerves of Shakespeare's public may have been of a stronger fibre than those of the present generation, — it is not the business of art to consider strong or weak nerves, but to aim only at the strengthening, the refreshing, and elevating of the mind and feelings, and such scenes do not effect this even in the case of the strongest nerves. Hbraud (Inner Life of Sh, p. 304) : In this scene Pity and Terror, the especial elements of the Tragic, are urged to their utmost limits. Of course there was danger of excess. But Sh. was on his guard. He might have justified the act by the sup* posed barbarity of the legendary age whose manners he was tracing, and urged that their familiarity with such acts prevented the actors in them from recognising the horrible. No such thing. By inserting in the group a servant who did recognise its intrinsic horror, and compassionated the sufferer, he converted disgust into pity The other servants also compassionate the blind old man, and lead him out to help him, to heal his wounds, and to place him in safe custody. The entire current of feeling is turned in the direction of pity by the force of sympathy. Thus the horroi in the * horrid act ' is mitigated, and reduced to the level of terror, which feeling is enforced by * the fparful looking-for ' of a coming vengeance, of which an instalment is secured even in the moment of crime. And this sentiment, too, is expressed by the servants who act as chorus to the scene. W. W. Lloyd: The horrors, like the indelicacies that are met with in Shakespeare's plays, are never admitted for their own sakes, never but when absolutely indispensable for his great aim and purpose, the defining of character, and that complete exhibition of nature with which,— recognising in art the same rigour that is challenged by science, — he allowed nothing to interfere. The mere convenience of stage-management, it might be said, would dictate that Gloucester should sit in the chair with his back to the audience, and it is not even then very apparent why the deed of mutilation should be so much more shocking than the smothering and the death agonies of Desdemona; it is not worth denying, however, that if only by usage of theatrical associations it would be so, and if, as I believe, the painfulness and the horror would not be utterly insupportable, it must be from a different cause. The cruel act is revolting to think of, and much more to behold, and yet is the revolting cruelty less heinous than the treatment of
P
226 KING LEAR [act hi. sc. vil.
Ghu. He that will think to live fill he be old, 68
Give me some help ! — O cruel I O you gods !
Reg, One side will mock another; th' other too. 70
Cam. If you see vengeance —
First Serv. Hold your hand, my lord I
I have served you ever since I was a child ; But better service have I never done you Than now to bid you hold
Reg. How now, you<dog?
First Seru, If you did wear a beard upon your chin. 75
1 'Id shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean ?
Cam. My villain ? \They draw and fight.
68. oU,'\ old Q,. old-- Q^ F,. lord? FJPJ?^.
69. Mp/]Aflp,-^F^. Mp,^TJFJ?^. 72. / Aave] I've Popc+, Dyce ii, ke^. Qq. Hads.
yml Ff+, Dyce, Sta. GI0.+, Sch. yml Om. Q,.
ye Qq et cet. 73, 74. But^Mld.'] One line, Qq.
70. M' other tool totkerto Qq. 75, 76. If...meanf^ Prose, Qq.
71. vengeance — ] vengeance. Yfl 76. on tkis\ in this Cap. conj.
First Serv.] i. S. Cap. Semant 77. [They draw...] Draw and fight.
Qq. Sera. Ff. Qq. Om.Ff. Fight, in the bcuffleCom-
lord f] Lord (l^. Lord fQ^. Lord: wdl is wounded. Rowe+.
Lear, though there the physical injury was comparatively slight, — the exposure of age and weakness to a pitiless storm, — and in itself, liowever well the storm might be imitated, less harrowing to the feelings. But Sh. evidently relied upon the response of the sympathies of his audience to the appeal of his art, and he had confidence in his power to depict the mental anguish, and sufferings, and injuries of the king with su^ foroe that no inferior infliction could supersede it in our interest. If the heart is touched as it should be by the great scene of the storm, and then by the pitiable spectacle of the wit-wrecked monarch in the indoors scene, mingling the fantastic freaks of lunacy with the majesty of sorrow, we shall be aware that the mere narra- tion of any physical suffering or cruelty whatever must have failed to rouse another start of indignation. To any other excitement the sensibilities might well seem lulled or seared, and the exhibition of the act was therefore necessary if it was to take place at all, and was therefore possible; and the poet daringly and successfully availed himself of the opportunity to cast the last disgrace upon filial ingratitude, by exposing its surpassing hatefulness in comparison with the direst crime, acted under our eyes with every detail of horror. 76. quarrel] Delius explains this as referring to Ryan's having called him a ' dog.'
76. What . • . mean] Should not this be given to Cornwall ? I doubt Delius's explanation of ' quarrel.' — Ed.
77. villain] Steevens: Here used in its original sense of one in servitude. MOBERLY : As a villain could hold no property but by his master's sufferance, had no legal rights as against his lord, and was (perhaps) incapable of bearing witness against freemen, that one should raise his sword against his master would be un«
ACT ni, sc viL]
KING LEAR
227
First Serv. Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of 78
angen Rig. Give me thy sword. — ^A peasant stand up thus ?
\Takes a sword and runs at hxm behind. First Serv. Oh, I am slain ! — My lord, you have one eye
left 80
To see some mischief on him. — Oh ! [Dies,
Com. Lest it see more, prevent it — Out, vilde jelly I Where is thy lustre now?
Glou. All dark and comfortless. Where's my son Ed* mund ? — Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature. 85
To quit this horrid aft!
Reg. but, treacherous villain 1
Thou call'st on him that hates thee; it was he That made the overture of thy treasons to us ;
78. Nay^ WlyQq, Jen. 7^ Reg.] Reg. [to another senrant Johns. Jen.
/i«x/]M«x. Qq. Takes...] She takes... Qq. Killes him. Ff. Snatches a Sword from an Att : and stabs him. Cap. 80,81. C?>(...C?>(/] Prose, Qq.
80. slain I My hrd^ Jlaine: my Lordf Ff. Jlaim my Lord, Qq.
you have] yet haue you Qq, Jen. MaL Ec. yet you have Steev. '85.
81. him] them Dyce ii. Hads. *em Dyce i, conj.
[Dies.] He dies. Q,. Om. Q,Ff.
82. vUde] Q,F,F^ Jen, Del. L vUd Q,F,F^, Rowe, Sch. viU Pope et cet
Z^. [TreadsonttheotherEye.Rowe+. Dashing Gloster's other Eye to the Ground. Cap.
84* Two lines, in Ff.
comfortUss.] comfortless Qq. com" fortleffe f Ff. comfortless — Rowe + , Jen.
85» 86. Edmund...a/lJ] Prose, Qq.
85. enkindU] vnhridle Qq, 86-89. Out^Jhee.] Prose, Qq.
86. treacherous] Om. Qq.
88. overture] dertun Walker (Cri/. i.86).
heard-of presumption, for which any punishment would be admissible. The lord's making war against his superior lord would entail no such consequences. Schmidt says the stress should be laid on * My*
79. Give • • • sword] Coluer : This may have been addressed to the wounded Cornwall.
8 1, on him] Dyce: The servant is evidently speaking of Cornwall and Regan; and them (and V/») [see Textual Notes] are often confounded with 'him' by tran- scribeis and printers; so afterwards, V, iii, 278, the Folio has erroneously * I would have made him (the Qq rightly 'them') skip,' &c. And compare what the othei servants say at the close of the present scene, ' If this man come to good ' — ' If shi live long/ &c. [I am afraid Dyce would have been severe on any editor who had ven* tured to make such a change. "What ' mischief had the Servant done on Regan ?— Ed.]
^» overture] Malonb: The opening or discovery.
d28 KING LEAR Iact jn, sc. yiL
Who is too good to pity thee.
GUm. Oh, my foUtes ! Then Edgar was abused 90
Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him 1
Reg. Go thrust him out at' gates, and let him smell His way to Dover. — \Exit one with Gloucester.'] How is't; my lord ? how look you ?
Com. I have received a hurt; follow me, ladj^— Turn out that eyeless villain ; throw this slave 95
Upon the dunghill.— Regan, I bleed apace; Untimdy comes this hurt Give me your arm.
[Exit Connvall, led by Regan.
* Sec. Serv. 1 11 never care what wickedness I do,
* If this man come to good.
* Hard Serv. If she live long,
* And in the end meet the old course of death, lOO
* Women will all turn monsters.
89-93. lVho...ymf\ Five lines, end- 95-97- Lines end vp9n...viUimify..»
ing folliis L„fargiPi..Mit...£>cvir,..you f arme. Qq. Pope + , Jen. 96. dimghiff] dungtU Q^.
90. 7;iM...a^^.]Separateline,Cap. 97. [Exit...]Theob. Exit Qq. Ex*
Steer. Ec Var. Knt, DeL Sing. Dyce, ennt Ff. Exennt Cornwal, and VtJtf^ou
Ktly, Sch. Senrxnts nnbind Gloster, and lead him
93, 93. Go,.,ymf\ As in Cap. Three ont. Cap. lines, ending fmeU..J>9Uir...yoHf Ff. 9S-106. Om. Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han.
Ptose, Qq. 98. Sec. Senr.] 3. S. Cap. Semant
92. at* gaUs\ Ed. At th* gates Han. Qq. ist Senr. Theob.
at gates QqFf et «et 99. Third Serr.] 3. S. Cap. 2. Semant
93. [Exit...] Exit with Glonller. Ff. Qq.
Om. Qq. 99-101. If..<Monsters.'\ As in Theoh.
iookl do Jen. Prose, Qq.
90. Oh] For instances of monosyllabic exclamations taking the place of a foot, see IV, ii, 26, or Abbott, S 482. Wright : Gloucester's last comfort fails him when his physical sufferings are greatest. [' Sign-post criticism ' ?— E0.]
93. look you] Jkzvnbns [see Textual Notes] : She could never ask how he look'dc she saw that. Egcles : * How look you ' is how you look.*
98, &c Theobald : This short dialogue is full of nature. Serrants, in any house, could hardly see such a barbarity committed on their master without reflections of pity. Johnson: It is not necessary to suppose them servants of Gloucester, for Cornwall was opposed to extremity by hb own servant.
100. old coarse] MAlonb: That is, die a natural death. Wordsworth (Sk. Kfunoledge and Use of the Bible^ p. 72, ed. ii) : We find the same idea in the mouth of Moses with reference to the fate of the rebels Korah and his company t * U these men die the conmion death of all men.' &c.— AiiM^. xvi, 29.
ACTXn.sa.vii.] KING LEAR 329
* Sec. Setv. Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam 102
* To lead him where he would; his roguish madness
* Allows itself to any thing.
* Third Serv. Go thou. I'll fetch some flax and whites
of eggs 105
* To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him !
[Exeunt severally. *
loa. Sec. Serv.] 2. S. Cap* 1 Ser.Qq. 106. Tc.his] T apply io*s Theob.
Bedlam] bedUm Q.. Warb. Johns. Jens. To apply to^s Sta.
XOJ, roguish'] Om. Q,. T* apply to his Dycc ii,
105. Third Serv.] 3. S. Cap. 2 Ser. [Exeunt severally.] Theob. Exit.
Qq. Qq. 105, 106. As in Theob. Prose, Qq.
102. Bedlam] Eccles doubts if this refer to Edgar, who had assumed his dis- guise but the preceding evening. He therefore supposes that it was some genuine Bedlam who frequented the neighborhood. Possibly, he thinks, it may after all be Edgar, who had been seen in Gloucester's company. At any rate, he concludes, the servant does not succeed in hb intention, since the meeting between Gloucester and his son afterwards, appears to be the result of accident.
105. flax and whites of eggs] Steevens: This passage is ridiculed by Jonson in The Case is Altered, 1609, II, iv. Malone: Th£ Case is Altered was written before the end of the year 1599, but Jonson might have inserted this sneer at our author between the time of Lear's appearance and the publication of his own play in 1609. [Of course this attack on Jonson aroused all Gifford's bitterness, and in a note on the passage in The Case is Altered, after quoting these notes by Steevens and Malone just given, he says : * Malone exposes Steevens's dishonesty with respect to the priority of the present drama, but, unwilling to lose a charge against Jonson, seeks to bolster up his. crazy accusation by a supposition as full of malice as the other is of falsehood. • • . And all this grovelling in baseness (for it is no better) is founded on a harmless allusion to a method of cure common, in Jonson's time, to every barber-surgeon and old woman in the kingdom.' Boswell,. Malone's cordial friend, says plaintively : ' I wish Gifibrd had not expressed his dissent in such strong language.*— Ed.] 20
^30 KING LEAR [ACTXV.sci
ACT IV Scene L The heath.
Enter Edqar.
Edg. Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd^ Than still contemn'd and flatter'd To be worst, The lowest and most dejefled thing of fortune, Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear. The lamentable change is from the best ; S
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome then. Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace I
The heath.] Cap. An open Country. vforji: Ff, Rowe. Rowe. 3. and'l Om. Pope -I- • Cap.
Act IV Scene I.] Actos Quartos. dtje^td'^ defea F,F,F^ Roire.
Scena Prima. Ff (Scsena F,). 4. esptratut] ixpiriena Qq.
2.Jlattif^d. To ^ worst,'] Pope. Jlat- 6. latt^Ater.] laugktir, Qq.
tend to be tooi^, Qq. Jlatter'd, to be t-^. fVeUome..^ut'} Om. Qq.
1. Yet • . • and known] Johnson : The meaning is, < 'Tis better to be thus con^ teamed and known to yourself to be contemned,* Or, perhaps, there is an errof^ which may be rectified thus : < Yet better thus unknown to be contemned.' VHiea a man divests himself of his real character he feels no pain from contempt, because he supposes it incurred only by a voluntary disguise which he can tluow off at pleasure. I do not think any correction necessary. Sir Joshua Rsynolos: The meaning seems to be this : * Yet it is better to be thus in this fixed and acknowledged contemptible state, than, living in affluence, to be flattered and despised at the same time.* He who is placed in the worst and lowest state has this advantage : he lives in hope, and not in fear, of a reverse of fortune. The lamentable change is from affluence to beggary. He laughs at the idea of changing for the worse who is already as low as possible. Collier : * Unknown,' which is from the (MS), accords with Johnson's suggestion, and is certainly right *Yes' for Yet may be doubted, but we fed authorized to insert it by the ezccdlence of the ensuing, and more im« poitant emendation. Edgar enters, giving his assent to some proposition he has stated to himself before he came upon the stage. Singer (in N.^Qn.i Ser. vi, 6, 1852) expressed his approval of Johnson's emendation, but afterwards, in his ed. 2, withdrew it. Schmidt i * Known to be contemned ' means here consdons of, and familiar with, contempt
2. worst] Tyrwhitt, adopting Johnson's emendation, thought this line should read : * Than still contemned and flatter'd to be worse*
3. dejected thing] Wright : That is, thing dejected by fortune. For this poih tion of the participle, see Abbott, §4x9 a [or WALKER, Crit. i, 160].
ACTiv.sci.] KING LEAR 23 X
The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst 8
Owes nothing to thy blasts. — But who comes here?
Enter Gloucester, led by an Old Man.
My father, poorly led ? — ^World, world, O world ! 10
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, Life would not yield to age.
Old Man. O my good lord,
I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant. These fourscore years.
9. My] my Rowe. led, Q^
Vfho.,.here?'\ fVAo'sAere, Qq. 12. Zi/e would noi] Life would iU
9, 10. But.,„world 11 Divided as in or Loaih should vfe or Life would not
Pope. Two lines, the first ending ledf but reludant Han, conj. MS.*
Ff. One line, Qq. 12, 14. 0,...years] As in Johns. Jen.
9. Enter Gloucester, led by an Old Ec Walker, Ktly, Dyce ii. Two lines, Man.] After age^ line 12, Qq; after the first ending your Tenant, in Ff. bla/ls, line g^T^^. Enter Gloufler, and Prose, Qq et cet.
an Oldman. F,F, (after blajls). 14. these fourscore years'] this fore*
10. poorly led /] parti, eyd, Q^. poorely fcort-^ Q^, this fourefcore — Q^
9. Owes nothing] Hudson: They have done their worst upon him, and so absolved him from all obligations of gratitude.
10, 12. World . . . age] Theobald {Sh, Rest, p. 172) : My late ingenious friend, Dr Sewell, gave me this conjecture, * make us bate thee,' t. /. if the many changes in life did not induce us to abate from, and mahe aUowances for, some of the bad casualties, we should never endure to live to old age. My explanation is : If the number of changes and vicissitudes which happen in life did not make us wm^, and hope for some turn of fortune for the better, we could never support the thought of living to be old on any other terms. [He reads, therefore, 'make us wait thee.'] Capell [adopting Theobald*s wait^i Life has often such evils, and man sees himself in such situations, that nothing but the hopes of their changing, that 'esperance' which Edgar talks of before, prevents his putting an end to, it at any part of it*s course, and before age; he would not stay to see age, age would not be his finisher. Malone : O world 1 if reverses of fortune and changes such as I now see and feel, from ease and affluence to poverty and misery, did not show us the little value of life, we should never submit with any kind of resignation to the weight of years, and its necessary consequence, infirmity and death.
11. hate] Nichols {Notes, &c., l^o. 2, p. 6) finds here a confirmation of his belief that * hatred is a conservative passion, and supplies us with powers of endur- ance little short of those supplied by piety itself,' and announces that Shakespeare lierein shows himself ' to have been no mean psychologist.'
14. tenant] Cowden Clarke: We imagine the old man who here speaks to be the occupant of the farm-house in which Gloucester placed Lear for shelter, and that the servants who propose to 'get the Bedlam to lead the old earl,' not finding the supposed beggar, have left the blind nobleman in charge of his fiuthful tenant
232 KING LEAR [ACT IV. sa I
Glou. Away, get thee away ; good fHeYid. be gone ; 15
Thy comforts can do me no good at all ; Thee they may hurt
Old Man, You cannot see your way.
Glou. I have no way and therefore want no eyes ; I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen. Our means secure us. and our mere defe£ls 20
x8. Kw] Alack /r, you Qq, Jen. fecttre QqF.F^ Our mean seeurth Steev. Ec. Var. Coll. Wh. Ktly , Glo + . Pope -I- . Cap. Steev. Mai. Ec CoU. Ow 20. Our means secure'] Our meanes harms secure Jervis.
20. means secure as] Warburton : That is, our moderate, mediocre condition. Jbnnens : * Means ' may perhaps be understood to be mean tki$igs (using the adjec tive substantively), i. e. adversa res» Capell : Mean is mean or middle condition ; and the maxim seems to arise from thU reflection in Gloucester, — that, had he been a man in that station, he had 'scap*d these calamities; his 'defects' (his want of fortune and title) had screened him from the machinations of wickedness, and so prov'd his commodities. Knight [the first, I think, to give .the true interpretation] :
* Means ' is here used only in the common sense of resources, powers, capacities. The means, such as we possess, are our securities, and further, our mere defects prove advantages, Rankin {Philosophhy of Sh,^ iS4i,p. 178): Our abilities and powers make us rash and unwary. Deuus agrees substantially with Knight. F. W. J. {N. 6* Qu.t I Ser. viii, 4, 1853) [following Knight's interpretation, paraphrases] \
* When I had eyes I walked carelessly ; when I had the ** means " of seeing and avoiding stumbling-blocks, I stumbled and fell, because I walked without care and watchfulness. Our deficiencies, our weaknesses (the sense of them), make us use such, care and exertions as to prove advantages to us.' As parallel, the following passages in the Bible are cited : I Cor, x, 12; Ps. x, 6; 2 Cor. xii, 9, 16. Also, 'Secure thy heart '-^7l}ntf« II, it, 184. [The following excellent illustration is given] : ' The means of the hare (t. /. her swiftness) secured her; the defects of the tortobe (her slowness) proved her conmiodity.' To the same effect Wordsworth {Sh. Knowledge of the Bible^ 248) : ' Means,' in Gloucester's case, is his sight. W. R. Arrowsmitu {N, 6* Qu,<^ i Ser. xii, p. 1855) contends that 'means' here bears fhe same meaning that it does in common parlance. ' If man's power were equal to his will, into what excesses might he not be betrayed, ruinous to himself, as well as hurtful to others; but happily for him an over-ruling Providence so orders Blatters that man's means, his circumscribed and limited means, become his security, keep him safe.' Whitb: 'Secure' here means to render careless,— a radical senser-ss it does in Timon^ II, ii, 184. Halliwbll: The term 'means' is here used for the wanl of means, the low state of our means. This usage is not unusual in writers of the time. Wright ; Things we think meanly of, our mean or moderate condition, are our security. Although as an adjective ' secure' often means ' care» less,' I know of no instance of the verb meaning ' to render careless.' Mobbrly:
* Secure us ' means ' make us over-secure,' ss we have ' a secure fool,' * not jealous nor secure,' &c. &c. The antithesis then becomes ' while we are made careless by the advantages on which we reckoned, we are saved by something which seemed a weak point' The allusion may be to the fable of the stag» endangered by the bonis
ACT IV, sa L] KING LEAR 233
Prove our commodities. — Oh, dear son Edgar, 21
The food of thy abused father's wrath, Might I but live to see thee in my touch,
21. Olil Ff-I-, Dyce, Sbu 0 Sch. «i Qq et ceL
which he admired, and saved by the legs which he despised. Schmidt gives two instances of the use of 'secure' as a verb meaning to render careless ; one b the passage in Tim, II, ii, 1S4, already cited by F. W. J. and White; and the other is Oih. I, iii» 10: ' I do not so secure me in the error.' Furthermore, Schmidt says that the signification of < means ' as ' moderate condition' is unknown in Sh., and per- haps in the whole range of the English language. [The various emendations that have been proposed are as follows :] Theobald {Sh, Rest, p. 177) conjectured < Our means ensnare us ' ; but did not afterwards repeat it in his edition. Hanm£R*s text reads : ' Meanness secures us.' Johnson : I do not remember that mean is ever used as a substantive for low fortune, which is the sense here required, nor for mediocrity, except in the phrase, the ' golden mean.' I suspect the passage of corruption, and would read :
* Our means seduce us,' or < Our maims secure us.' That hurt or deprivation which makes us defenceless proves our safeguard. This is very proper in Gloucester, newly maimed by the evulsion of his eyes. Hunter {Nettt Iliusi, ii, 272) proposed, without comment other than that the passage as it now stands cannot be right, ' Our meanness succours us.' Anon. (Gent, Mag,^ Aug. 1S45, p. I17) : Does the exact point of cor- ruption in the text lie in * means ' or ' our ? ' Can it be ' Poor means secure us,* &c. ? A. E. B[ra£] ( A'l 6* Qtf. I Ser. vii, 592, 1853) : There are two verbs, one in every-day use, the other obsolete, which, although of nearly opposite significations, and of very dissimilar sound, nevertheless differ only in the mutual exchange of place in two letters: these verbs are secure and recuse; the first implying assurance; the second, loant of assurance^ or refusal. Hence any sentence would receive an opposite meaning from one of these verbs to what it would from the other. In the present passage one would suppose that the obvious opposition between means and defects would have preserved these words from being tampered with ; and that, on the other hand, the absence of opposition between secure and commodious would have directed attention to the real error. But no : all the worritting has been about means. Read, therefore, ' Our means recuse us,' &c. Singer (ed. 2} : Meanes of the old copy is possibly a typographical error for needes; the words being easily confounded in old MSS. The context shows that needs was probably what Sh. wrote. [' Needs ' is in Singer's text.] CoLUFR (ed. 2) : Meanes is corrected to wants in the (MS), and so we print with confidence ; the context shows that the emendation is required, how- ever much misplaced ingenuity may insist that the old text ought to be preserved. Walker (Crit, iii, 281} : There can be no doubt that Johnson's maims is the right reading. One of the numberless passages which illustrate the old pronunciation of ea. Lettsom [Foot-note to the foregoing] : Hooker's Ecclesiasticai Polity ^ b. v, sect. Ixv :
* If men of so good experience and insight in the maims of our weak flesh, have thought,' &c. b. V, sect, xxiv, 3 : ' lb a minister, ignorance and disability to teach is a maim.' Greene, James the Fourth^ Dyce, vol. ii, p. 145 : * But, sir Divine to you ; look on your maims. Divisions, sects, your simonies, and bribes,' &c. Hudson adopts maims,
23. see thee In] Keightley: The proper word of course is feel, not 'see' ; hot the text may be right. We might also read by for ' in.' 30*
234 KING LEAR [act iv, s& L
rid say I had eyes again!
Old Man. How now ! Who *s there ? 24
Edg. [Aside] O godsl Who is't can say * I am at the
worst'? 25
I am worse than e'er I was.
0/d Man. Tis poor mad Tom.
Edg. \Aside\ And worse I may be yet; the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst'
Old Man. Fellow, where goest ?
Glou. Is it a beggar-man ?
Old Man. Madman and beggar too. 3^
Glou. He has some reason, else he could not beg. r th' last night's storm I such a fellow saw. Which made me think a man a worm. My son Came then into my mind, and yet my mind Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more since. 35 As flies to wanton boys, are we to th' gods ; They kill us for their sport
Edg. \Aside\ How should this be ?
Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
34. WMi\ WJUfe^. Hnds.
25» 27> 37> 5x> 53* [Aside] Johns. 36. to wamum\ mre todi^ wantm Q..
2$. I am ai tkt] lamatT^ Pm aret^thwatOonQ^. ioth*ioanioHTJP^
tU the Pope + , Dyce ii, Huds. Rowe. 26. Iam\ Pm Pope-h , Dyce ii, Huds. 37. kUl'\ bitt Q.. hit Q,.
^er\ Rowe. in QqFf- 37-39» ff<»o...master [\ Yxonit^ Qq
28. 5;* hng\ As long Qq. 37. this\ their F,.
31. He\ A Q|. 38. that must play fiol to] that muft
3a, P /*•] In thi Qq. play the foole to Qq, F^^ Rowe, Jen.
35. Two lines, Ff. Steev. Mai. that muft play to foole F^ / Atfw] Pve Pope-h, Dyce ii, must play the fool to Pope-i>, £c. Bos.
28. worst] Mobxrly: If we could truly say <this is the worst,' our capacities for suffering would be finite; but this is not so, there b aljvays * in lowest depth a lower deep ' of possible suffering.
33. worm] Compare Job^ xzv, 6: * How much less man, that is a worm? and the son of man which is a worm ? '— Dr Krauth, il/J.
37. kiU] Dbuus: Bit of the Qq is probably a misprint for hit. Wordsworth {Sh. Knowledge of the Bihle, &c. p. I14] : I veiy much doubt whether Sh. would have allowed any but a Heathen character to utter this sentiment.
37. How, ftc] MOBBRLY: * Can this be the truth? It is a poor trade to draw out of sorrow aphorisms based, like those of fools, on the first aspect of things, and tending to recklessness and despair.' [Does not Edgar's exclamation, ' How should this be ? ' refer to his father's blindness ?— Ed.]
ACT IV, sc L] KING LEAR 235
Angering itself and others. — ^Bless thee, master! Glou. Is that the naked fellow ?
Old Man. Ay, my lord 40
Glou. Then, prithee, get thee gone. If for my sake
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain
r th' way toward Dover, do it for ancient love ;
And bring some covering for this naked soul.
Which I'll entreat to lead me.
Old Man. Alack, sir, he is mad. 45
Glou. Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure ;
Above the rest, be gone.
Old Man. I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have.
Come on't what will. \ExU.
Glou. Sirrah, naked fellow. 50
Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. — [Aside] I cannot daub it further.
39. Af^ering Uself\ AnguiskiMgU Rowe -h, Jen. Del. Sing. Ktly,Httds.SclL ulf Han. Anguishing iUtlf Warb. 47. thte\ Om. Pope+.
41. TKiH,.,g9n€\ Get thee awf^Tt-^t 49* '/ar//] ' FamI Kowt. famU
Knt, Del. Sch. QqF,F,F-. Parrtl F^.
43. hmce\ hire Qq. [£xit.] Om. Qq.
43. iaward'\ to Q.» Steev. Ec. Var. 5a Sirrah^] Sirrah, ^ou Han. Sir^ Sing. Sta. Ktly. towards Cap. rah, thou Ktly.
44. Mu] his Rowe ii. /etlowJ] fellow,^^ Cap. Dyce, Sta.
45. fVhich] F(, Rowe, Knt, Dyce, GI0.+, Mob. Sch.
Coll. iii, Sch. IVho Qq, Sta. Glo.-t-. 51. daud itliidneeitQqtTope. ddU/
IVhom Pope et cet. Han.
46. Two lines, Ff. furtherl farther Qq, Coll. DeU /I'm//] Cap. times QqFf. tim/s Wh.
39. Angerixig] Hbath : He at the same time displeases himself and the person he endeavors to amuse.
46. times'] Dycb shows by several examples [which Schmidt's Lex. will supply] that this is the plural. Moberly : When enthusiasts madden the ignorant. The ele- ments were alr^idy working in England which produced the Fifth Monarchy and the Blackfriars' fanatics, Naylor, General Harrison, and the like.
49. 'parel] For a long list of words in which the prefix is dropped, see Abbott, S460. We have < 'filed' for deJiUd in Afatb. Ill, i, 65, which is not in Abbott's list. Wright: No doubt ' paraille' was an earlier form of this word, but it was not used in Shakespeare's time.
50 on't] See * two on's daughters,' I, iv, 98, X48 ; I, t, 19.
51. daub it] Warburton: Disguise. Stsevens: So in Rich. HI: HI, v, 291 *So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue.' Again in the Paston Letters:
^36 KING LEAR [ACT IV. sal
Glou. Come hither. feUow. 53
Edg. [Aside] And yet I must — ^Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed
Glou. Know'st thou the way to Dover ?"
Edg Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor 55 Tom hath been scared out of his good wits. Bless thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend ! * Five fiends have been in poor
* Tom at once; of lust, as Obidicut ; Hobbididence. prince of
* dumbness; Mahu. of stealing; Modo. of murder; Stiber- ^digebit. of mopping and mowing, who since possesses 60
* chambermaids and waiting-women. So. bless thee, master 1*
53. And yet I musL'\ Om. Qq. HMididdanee Ciqp.
^if^...^^tfi/.] One line. Cap. Two l^ dumbnas\ darkness Cap. (ooiw
lines, Ff. reSed in Errata).
55-57. Both,„fiendf\ Plrote. Ff. Three Modo\ Mohu Pope+ •
lines, Qq. SHberdigebii'] Qq. and Fliibef
56. scaredl^ /card Qq. /carted F,F^ Hgibbei Theob. Warb. Johns. Steer. Ec
feaf^d F,F^. scarred Sch. Var. Coll. Del. Sta. Dyce ii, Wh. FUk-
56, 57. ikee, good man^s jm,] the good bertigibbet Pope et ceL
man Qq, Mai. Steev. Bos. thee^ good 60. mopping and mowmg,'\ Theob.
man. Pope -I- , Jen. (subs.). Moving, 6* Mohing Q,. Mo*
57-61. Five,..master f] Prose, Pope. bing^ and Mohing Q^ 9i€ping, and
Five lines, Qq. Om. Ff, Rowe. Mowing Pope (Mowing in italics, as the
58. at once"] in once Cap. (conre<5led name of the fifth fiend. See Textual
in Corrigenda, vol. x). Note, line 60). mobbing and snowing;
of luit, as Obidicut;'] Om. Pope. Jen.
Hobbididence'] ffobbididenVo^-^. 6l. 5;9...jVMii^/] Om. Pope+.
* her moder hath seyd to her . • . that she hath no fantesy therinne, but that it shall com to a jape; and seyth to her that there is gode crafle in dawbjmg' [voL \^ p. 269, ed. Gairdner]. For the indefinite use of * it,' see Ifasn, II. i. 12, or Abbott« $226.
53. thy] See IV, vi, 30.
58. of lust, as Obidicut] Walker {Crit. ii, 249) : Qn.f f as Obidicut, of lnit| H. of dumbness,' &c. < As' in the Elizabethan sense of namefy, to wit.
59. Stiberdigebit] I can see no reason for deserting the original text here.— Ed.
60. mopping] Capbll {Gioss,) : To drop, duck, or dance oddly. Narbs, DrcBp and Schmidt define it by * making grimaces.' Malons quotes from Harsnetfs Declaration:* — Make antike faces, grinne, mow and mop like an ape.'
60. mowing] Moberly: Wedgwood compares the French <iaire la mone.' Italian *far la mocca,' and the Swiss-German *mflpfen' and ^mflhelen' for *\xs make faces.' In all these cases the words are coined to express protrusion of the lips,
61. chambermaids] This is generally supposed to have been suggested by tho three chambermaids in the family of Mr Edmund Peckham, mentioned in Hannef a Declaration, but MoBERLY gives it a general reference to chambermaids 'who pe» form these antics before their mistress' dressing-glass.'
ACT IV, sc. L] KING LEAR 237
Glou. Here, take this pur;se, thou whom the heavens*
plagues 62
Have humbled to all strokes ; that I am wretched Makes thee the happier. Heavens, deal so still ! Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, 6$
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see Because he does not feel, feel your power quickly; So distribution should undo excess
62. /««[#] QqF,FjFj. jT^r /^Knt. 66. iAiv/x]y?a«u2rQq. MitvrWaiK
heaven^'\ htaven^s Han. Han. Jen. Sing. Coll. ii. (MS).
plagues] plagues, Q.. 67. does\ Qg» Johns. Jen. Knt, Sch*
63, 64. Have..Jhee'\ One line, Qq. d<^s Ff -h . doth Q, et cet.
65. and] and the Rowe. 68. undo\ vndoo F^ undoi F^ v»-
htst'dieted] hat-dieting Cap. dtr Qq.
63, 64. that . • • happier] Wordsworth (p. 216) : That is, because my wretch* edness now teaches me to compassionate those who are in cUstress.
65. Baperfluous] Johnson : Lear has before ottered the same sentiment, which indeed cannot be too strongly impressed, though it may be too often repeated. EccLES : Sentiments like these can no more be too often repeated than too strongly impressed, when recommended by such varied elegance and beauty of expression.
66. slaves] Warburton : Gloucester is speaking of such who by an uninter- rupted course of prosperity are grown wanton, and callous to the misfortunes of others ; such as those who, fearing no reverse, slight and neglect, and therefore may be said to ^f»fv, the ordinance of heaven. Which is certainly the right reading. HsATH : The meaning is. Who, instead of paying the deference and submission due to your ordinance, treats it as his slave, by making it subservient to his views of pleasure or interest Johnson ; To slave or heslave another is to treat him with indignity ; in a kindred sense, to ' slave the ordinance' may be to slight or ridicule it [In support of Heath's interpretation, which is undoubtedly the true one,] Stsrvens cites Heywood's Brazen Age: 'none Could slave him like the Lydian Omphale.' Massinger's A New Way to Pay Old Debts, IV, iii : ' the smooth brow Of a pleased sire, that slaves me to his will.' Malonb: See Webster's Malcon* tent^ IV, i: 'O powerful blood! how dost thou slave their soul.' Wright: Com- pare B. and FL The False One, V, iv: 'Nay, grant they had slav'd my body, my free mind,' &c.; and Middleton, The /Soaring Girl (Works, ii, 445, ed. Dyce). * Fortune, who slaves men, was my slave.'
66. ordinance] Mobsrly: The ordinance meant is probably what the parable of Dives and Lazarus expresses, that ignorance of the sufferings of those near us is itself a crime. Schmidt: Here it must be taken in the sense of the established order of things, law of nature. Bailet (ii, 96) : ' Read : " that slanders your ordi- nance," /. e. that disparages it, casts reproach or contumely upon it, discredits it' To meet the objection to slander on the score of metre, Bailey cites Walker's Vers, 69, where this word is given among the dissyllables which Chaucer uses metrically as monosyllables, and thinks that 'the objection is more than countervailed by the apt- ness of the term for the place.'
238 KING LEAR [actiy.scL
And each man Tiave enough. Dost thou know Dover ? Edg. Ay, master. 70
Glou, lliere is a cliff whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully in the confined deep;
Bring me but to the very brim of it,
And ril repair the misery thou dost bear
With something rich about me; from that place 75
I shall no leading need. Edg. Give me thy arm ;
Poor Tom shall lead thee. \Exeunt.
72. fearfittty\ fiirmfy Qq. 76, i shall^ JhaU I Q^
in] an Rowe-f , Cap. Jen. Ec leading^ Unding F,F^, Rowe.
75, 76. With,.Miid.'\ First line ends 76, 77. Citfe..jAeeJ} One line, Qq.
mr, Qq. 77. [Exeunt] Om. Qq.
71. There is, ftc.] Mobbrly: It is remarkable that Gloucester goes to Dover, not, to Regan laughingly says, that he may now do his worst in treason, but simply that he may throw himself from the cliff in utter despair. The fact is, that Uiis interpolated part of the plot is one of the many instances of Shakespeare's homage to Sir Philip Sidney; to pay which he does not hesiute to make a certain sacrifice of probability. In the Arcadia (p. 160) we have ' a prince of Paphlagonia, who, being ill-treated by his son, goes to the top of a high rock to cast himself down.* (But how slight is the hint in the romance compared with the magnificent use which Shakespeare makes of it I) So in Pericles^ i» I» we have taken from Sidney's Arcadia (p. 149) the expression, * The Senate-house of planets all did sit. To knit in her their best peifections.' And in As You Like Ht, the celebrated passage about 'tongues in trees,' ftc, is an adaptation from Sidney's Astrophti,
72. Looks fearfuUy] Mobbrly : The beetling top of the diff seems to be look- ing down with alarm over the sea which it hems in. This description seems as if no particular Dover cliff were meant, as the clifi there are not really perpendicular.
72. in] Malonb: Sh. considered the sea as a mirrour. To look in a glass is yet our colloquial phraseology. Wright says Mn ' is here equivalent to inio^ and dtes Rick. Ill: I, ii, 261 s < But first I'll turn yon fellow in his g«ave.' [For similar instances, see Abbott, $ 159.] Schmidt agrees with Malone.
72. confined] CAfelL} Pent in straits.
17 N
Acriv.sc.u.] KING LEAR 239
Scene II. Before the Duke of Albany s palace
Ekter GOMSRIL and EDMUND.
Gon. Welcome, my lord; I marvel our mild husband Not met us on the way.— [£«/fr Oswald.] Now, where 's your master ?
Osw. Madam, within ; but never man so changed I told him of the army that was landed ;
He smiled at it I told him you were coming ; $
His answer was : ' The worse ;' of Gloucester's treachexy And of the loyal service of his son When I inform'd him, then he call'd me * sot,' And told me I had tum'd the wrong side out What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him ; 10
What like, offensive.
Gon. {To Edm.'] Then shall you go no further. It is the cowish terror of his spirit. That dares not undertake; he'll not feel wrongs. Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way
SCBNB II.] Scena Secunda Ff (Scsena Qq (after masier f),
FJ. z^ll. Afadam„.ofeMSWi.'\Tro3t,Qq.
Before...] Cap. (subs.) The Duke of 10. mosi..Jisiiki\ hee Jkouid tnofi d^
Albany's Palace. Rowe. A Courtyard /rv Qq.
of... Eccles conj. if. [To Edm.] Han.
Enter...] Tbeob. Enter Gonorill and shall you\ thou shall Jen,
Bailard. Qq. Enter Gonerill, Ballard, 12. lenvr] terrer Q,. cum Q;.
and Steward. Ff. Enter Goneril, and \^\^.answer.,.Edmund^to\ answer^
Edmund; Steward meeting them. Cap. that our wishis On th* way may provo
2. Enter Oswald] Enter Steward. effe^s^ htuh, to Han.
1. Welcome] Deltos: She welcomes him to her house after she has reached it in his company.
1. mUd] Johnson : It must be remembered that Albany, the husband of Goneril, disliked, at the end of the first Act, the scheme of oppression and ingratitude.
2. Not met] For instances of the omission of the auxiliary * do' before ' not,* see II, I, 75, or Abbott, § 305.
11. What like, offensive] Abbott, $395: Antithetical sentences frequently do not repeat pronouns, verbs, &c. See IV, vi, 261 ; IV, vii, 4.
12. cowish] Wright : Not found elsewhere. Perhaps the true reading is * currish terror.'
14. answer] Mobbrly : Which makes it necessary that he should reply to them Bsaman.
14, 15. Our wishes . • . effects] Steevens : ' What we wish, before our march b at an end, may be brought to happen,' t. /. the murder or dispatch of her husband. «0n the way/ however, may be equivalent to the expression we now use : Bythi
240 K7HG LEAR [act ni SC fi.
May prove effe6ls. Back, Edmund, to my brother; 15
Hasten his musters and condufl his powers.
I must change arms at home and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us ; ere long you are like to hear.
If you dare venture in your own behalf, 20
A mistress's command. Wear this ; spare speech ;
Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air.
Conqeive, and fere thee well.
Edm. Yours in the ranks of death.
Gan. My most dear Gloucester! 25
{Exit Edmund Oh, the difference of man and man I To thee a woman's services are due. My fool usurps my body.
Osw. Madam, here comes my lord [Exit.
15. Edmund'\ Edgar Q,. Rowc. Exit. F,F, (after death), Om
1 7. armsl names Ff, Rowe, Knt, Del. QqFjF^.
i, Wh, Sch. 25, 27. My,..due'\ One line, Qq (omit.
19. ere.^hear] you ere hng shall hear ting Oh,„mttHl),
Pope + . 26. Oh.l Separate line, Steev. Wallcer,
^Mitf/'/]^MtfV/Dyceii, Huds. Huds. Bui O, (transposing 26, 27)
20. venture] venter Q,. Anon.*
21. command] coward Ci^, difference] strange difference this ^ s^re] this, /pare Cl^. this Pope +, Cap.
fpare Q,. 26-28. Oh.,Jord,] Lines end thee,„fool
[Giving a favour. Johns. 0*ires ...lord. Steev. Walker, Dyce ii, Huds.
him a ring. Han. 27. a] Om. Q,.
24. fare thee well] far you well Q, 28. My fool.^body,] A foole,,.,bed. Q,« faryewellQ^ Myfoote,.,head,(i^, Myfool„.,6ed,'biivA»
25, 26. Afy,„man f] One line, Ktly. Steev. Ec. Bos. Huds.
25. [Exit Edmund.] Exit Bastard. Exit.] Exit Steward. Qq. Om. Fl
way, or By the by, i. e. en passant. Mason and M alone rightly interpret 'on the way * by * on our journey hither.'
22. Decline] Steeyens thinks that Goneril bids Edmund decline his head that she might, while giving him a kiss, appear to Oswald merely to be whispering to him. But this, Wright says, is giving Goneril < credit for too much delicacy, and Oswald was <'a serviceable villain."' Deliits suggests that perhaps she wishes to put a chain around his neck.
22, 23. your • • • thy] Abbott, $ 235, suggests that it is the kiss which induces the change from the formal you to the endearing thou,
26. Oh] For the rhythm, see III, .vii, 90.
28. body] White inclines to accept Q, as the true reading. Wright : For the reading/^/ might be compared Temp, I» il, 469 : * My foot my tutor.'
ACT IV. sc. ii.] KING LEAR 241
Enter ALBANY.
Gon. I have been worth the whistle.
Alb. OGonerill
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind 30
Blows in your face. * I fear your disposition ;
* That nature which contemns it origin
* Cannot be border'd certain in itself;
* She that herself will sliver and disbranch
* From her material sap, perforce must wither 35
* And come to deadly use.
Enter Albany.] Enter the Duke et cet. of Albeney. (after w/iw//f)Q3. Om. Q,. 33. ^or/2Vr*^]Pope. ^jr</<fr^^Qq,Sch.
29. whistle\ whiftling Q,. 34. iliver\ shiver Pope, sih/er Jen, 29» 30. 0..,tvind] One line, Qq. Knt, (misprints?)
30. rude] Om. Q, 35. pia/erial] maiemal Theob, Han, 31-50. Ifear..,deep,'\ Om. Ff, Rowe, Johns. Ec.
32. W] Q,. Wh. Wr. Uh Q,. its Q,
29. I . • . whistle] Johnson strangely interprets this as an allusion to Edmund's love : ' though you disregard roe thus, I have found one who thinks me worth calling.' Steevens: This expression is in Hey wood's Proverbs: < A poore dogge that is not woorth the whystlyng.'
31. fear] Equivalent \o fear for; see Ham. I, iii, 51.
32. 33. That . . . itself] Heath : That nature which is arrived to such a pitch of unnatural degeneracy, as to contemn its origin, cannot from thenceforth be re« strained within any certain bounds whatever, but is prepared to break out into the most monstrous excesses every way, as occasion or temptation may offer. Cowden Clarke: 'Cannot be border'd certain in itself means, cannot comprise reliable component substance in itself. Schmidt: * Certain ' is equivalent to fixed, firm.
32. it] See I, iv, 209.
33. border'd] Bailey (ii, 97) : Surely we ought to read here ordered \n the sense of regulated. The blunder seems to have arisen from the preceding * be.*
35. material sap] Warburton : That whereby a branch is nourished, and in- creases in bulk by fresh accession of matter. [After criticising Theobald's suggestion of * maternal sap,' Warburton cites an instance in Theobald's favour, where, in the title of an old book, 'material' is apparently equivalent to maternal: 'Sir John Froissart's Chronicle translated out of Frenche into our material English Tongue by John Bouchier, printed 1525.'] Jennens: The force of Albany's argument to prove that a branch torn from a tree must infallibly wither and die, lies in this, that it is separated from a communication with that which supplies it with the very identical matter by which it (the branch) lives, and of which it is composed. Collier (ed. 2) : Might not natural^ in spite of the irregularity of the rhythm, be the word of the poet? Schmidt: From Shakespeare's use of * material' elsewhere, in the sense oK full of matter, and hence of importance, it is not easy to explain it here. Theobald's sug- gestion is appropriate and ingenious, but unfortunately Sh. knows not the word.
36. deadly] Warburton : Alluding to the me that witches and enchanters are
21 Q
242 KING LEAR [act iv, sc. iu
* Gon. No more; the text IS foolish. 37
* Alb. Wisdom and goodness to the vilde seem vilde ;
* Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
* Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd ? 40 ^ A father, and a gracious aged man,
* Whose reverence e'en the head-lugg'd bear would lick,
* Most barbarous, most degenerate ! have you madded.
* Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
"^ A man, a prince, by him so benefited ! 45
* If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
* Send quickly down to tame these vilde oflences,
* It will come,
37. tAe text is] tis Pope -I* • GI0.-I-, Huds. One line, Qq.
38.47. vilde] Q.. viU Q^ Dd. i, 47- these vilde] Ed. tkisvildQ^. the Sch. vifr Pope et cet vilde Q^ Sch. the vile Pope -I- , Capi
39. Om. Pope, Han. tkesewildCoMAu M/j/v&fr Heath etcet.
42. Om. Pope-f . 4S. // will came,] Om. Pope+, Cap.
reverence.,.bear]reverend head the 'TMU eome, Jen. SteeY.'93, Bos. Knt,
rugged bear Cap. Sta. Mob.
een] Ed. euen Q,. Om. Q^ Cap. 48, 49. It will,.,m] ' 7M7...m» (one
Steev. Ec. Var. ColL Sing. DeL Dyce, line) Jen.
Wh. Ktly, Huds. // will...,0H Uself] ^7knlL,..om
45. benefited] bemfiledQ^ bemefiiaed ^ttelf (one line) Sta.
<^. It will come.,. perforee] One line,
47. 48. Send..,eame^ As in Mai. Steev. CoU: ii. It will come that..^eff9rce (one Ec. Knt, Coll. i, Del. Sing. Dyce, Wh. line) Ktly.
said to make of wither' d branches in their charms. A fine insinuation in the speaker, that she was ready for the most unnatural mischief, and a preparative of the poet to her plotting with the bastard against her husband's life. Moberly : To Uie use which belongs to a dead thing; burning, that is. Warbuiton's reference to witch- craft is unnecessary. 39. savour] Egcles : To have a proper taste or relish for.
42. head-lugg'd] Wright: Compare Harsnet, p. 107: *As menleade Beares hy the nose, or Jack an Apes on a string.' So a < luf^ged bear,' i Hen, IV: I, ii, 82.
43. madded] Wright : That is, maddened, which Sh. does not use.
45. Warburton : After this line, I suspect a line or two to be wanting, which up- braids her for her sister's cruelty to Gloucester. And my reason is, that in her an- swer we find: 'Fools do these villains pity who are punished Ere they have done their mischief,' which evidently alludes to Gloucester. Now, I cannot conceive thai she should here apologise for what was not objected to her.
47. tame] Schmidt: A suspicions word on account of its weakness. After
* visible spirits ' we should expect rather tc doom or to damn. Perhaps Sh. wrota io tahe the vild offenders.
47. vilde] Collier (ed. 2) : * Tame ' and wild are opposed, and this seems one of the cases in which the old spelling vilde has introduced confusion.
ACT IV. sc. ii.] KING LEAR 243
* Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
* Like monsters of the deep.*
Gon. Milk-liver'd man ! 50
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs ; Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning Thine honour from thy suffering ; * that not know'st
* Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd
* Ere they have done their mischief, — ^where's thy drum ? 55
49, 50. Humanity. ,Meep.'\ As in Pope. truring Q,.
One line, Qq. 53-59' that,..so /] As by Theob. The
49. HumanUy'\ Humanly Q,. first three lines end pitty.„mi/ckitfe,„.
/^fyarrr]Om. Mob., reading *7W// land, in Q,. End pUy„.,mi/chiefet,.^
^Mself as one line. noi/ehffe, in Q,. Om. Ff.
preyl pray Q,. 53. noi'l now Wb.
5 1 . dear's/'] beareft Qq, Sch. 53, 54. knau/st Fools do] Han. hundft^ forwrongs] of wrongs F^F^, Rowe. fools do Q,. knovfjl fooUs, do Q,.
52, 53. IVho^.honour'] One line, Qq. 54. those] the/t Q^ Theob. Warb. 52. eye discerning"] Rowe. eye-dif- Johns.
teming Ff. eye deferuing Q,. eie dif*
54, 55. Fools • • • mischief] Warburton, as is noted above, refers this to Gloucester, but Capell contends that it could not apply to him, because ' he had done the harm he was punish'd for, he had reliev'd Lear, and sent him away; but» horrid as it may seem, her father is the ** villain," who, according to this lady, is to be pity*d of none but « fools ;" he, indeed, is *< punish'd " ere any mischief is done by him.' EccLES : Possibly, she means that persons who harbour evil intentions, bttt» through irresolution, or dread of consequences, delay the execution of them till dis* appointment or punishment overtake them, obtain pity from none but ' fools,' as men of sense generally discern the disposition of their hearts. This also serves as an apology for her own precipitation, and a censure upon the pusillanimity in her hus- band. It may indeed be objected to this interpretation that she appears thereby to stamp villainy upon her own conduct, but her words may imply: ' We have mischief in hand, which it is expedient to effect ; if so, the more speedily it is accomplished the better; for, even if our proceeding merited your imputation, still it is to be con- sidered that only « Fools do these villains pity,"' &c. Malone: It is not clear vrhether this fiend means her father or the King of France. If her words have a retrospect to Albany*s speech, which the word ^pity ' might lead us to suppose, Lear must be referred to ; if they are considered as connected with what follows, 'Where's thy drum ? ' &c., the other interpretation must be adopted. The latter appears to me the true one, and perhaps the punctuation of the Qq, in which there is only a comma after ' mischief,' ought to have been preferred. Singer ; Surely there cannot be a doubt that she refers to her father, and to the * pity ' for his sufferings expressed by Albany, whom she means indirectly to call a ' fool ' for expressing it [She cannot refer to Gloucester, because Albany is ignorant of what had been done to him, and she herself had left Gloucester's castle before the blinding was accomplished. It is difficult to believe that she refers to Lear; may it not be that she refers to Albany himself? She has told him that his preachment about her father was foolish, and
844 KING LEAR [activ,sciL
* France spreads his banners in our noiseless land, 56
* With plumed helm thy state begins to threat,
* Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still and criest
* 'Alack, why does he so?' ♦
Alb. See thyself, devU!
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend 60
So horrid as in woman.
Gon. O vain fool !
57. thy state begins to thretU] Jen. 58. Whilsf] Whiles Q,. Dyce, Sta.
Su. Cam. Wr. Mob. Sch. thy Jlate be^ Glo. + , Sch. While Cap.
gins thereat Q,. thy slayer begins his 58. morat\ mortall Q .
Mr«i/j Theob. Warb. Johns. Cap. Ktly. sit'st...criest] Coll. sirst..xrysi
the slayer begins his threats Han. £c. Theob. Jlts,„cries Qq.
this Lear begins threats Leo (A^. &* Qu, 59-6i* See.,jwoman,'\ Prose, Qq.
5, Ser. vii, p. 3). thy Jlaier begins threats 60. deformity'\ de/crmiry Q,.
Q, et cet. seems] Jhewes Q,, Wr. Sch.
that he should drop the subject. Is it likely that she would resume it? On the con* traiy, she wbhes, as soon as possible, to turn the tables, and put him to his defence, therefore she launches into bitter railing against his supineness ; he is *milk liver'd,* with no sense of honour, &c. &c., and is ignorant that none but fools will have any pity for villains, like himself, who are punished before they have struck a blow. Thus interpreted, the taunting question, * where's thy drum ? ' follows keen, like the lash to a whip. I have not, therefore, put a period after < mischief,' as is done in every other edition since Hanmer's, but have adhered to the Qq, which have merely a comma. — Ed.]
57. thy . • . threat] This is JenKENS's emendation and text, erroneously attributed in the Cam. ed. to Eccles. Through some oversight Jennens*s edition seems to have been somewhat slighted by the Cam. Edd. ; many of the readings attributed in their textual notes to ' Steevens 1778 ' should be given to Jennens. In fact Jennens*s text, in this play, owing to a preference for the Qq, which he shares to a certain extent with the Cam. Edd., agrees, in disputed passages, as closely perhaps as any other, except Dyce's, in hb first edition, with that of the Cambridge edition. — Ed.
58. a moral] Delius: That is, a moralizing. Compare Much Ado, V, i, ja .Schmidt {Lex^ adds. As You Like It, II, vii, 29.
60. Proper deformity] Warburton : Diabolic qualities appear not so horrid m the devil, to whom they belong, &c. White : That is, deformity which, in the words of Albany's next speech, be-monsters the ' feature ' or peculiar characteristic personal traits. Delius : That is, a deformity which conceals itself under a pleasing, fair outside, and which appears all the more horrid from its internal contrast. Compare Twelfth Night, II, ii, 30: •proper-false,' 1. e. externally fair, internally false. [Although this explanation of Delius's is ingenious, and one which none but a Shakespeare-scholar would have made, yet it is, I fear, somewhat too refined. As Wright says in reference to it : < This interpretation would require some such word as < specious ' instead of • horrid ' in the next line.'— Ed.] Wright refers to 2 Hgm» /K.IV.i,37.
ACTlv.scu.] KING LEAR 245
* Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame, 62
62-69. 7iS£»»...ifrurj /] Om. Ff, Rowe, 62, self- ccvef'd'\/elfe'CauerdQ<\. self-
Fope, Han. convertid'Ditoh.y^zxh.CA'p, sex-ccvtf'd
62. changed'^ charted Q^. Crosby, Hads. iii.
62. 8elf-cover*d] Johnson : I cannot but think that this means, thou that hast disguised nature by wickedness ; thou that hast kid the woman under the fiend. Henley : Goneril, having thrown off the convenient seeming of female gentleness, now no longer played the hypocrite, but exhibited in her face the self-same passions she had covered in her heart. M alone : Thou who hast put a covering on thyself which nature did not give thee. The covering which Albany means is, the semblance and appearance of a fiend. Ste£vbns : Perhaps there is an allusion to the envelope which the maggots of some insects furnish to themselves. Voss (iii, 643, Leipzig, 1819) suggests /eli-Qoytt*di : * Albany refers to the expression of satanic unwot^an- liness which covers her face like a dark cloud.' Hudson: An obscure expression, but probably meaning, thou who hast hid the woman in the fiend, or who hast changed from what thou rightly art, and covered or lost thy proper self under an usurped monstrosity; Cartwright : Read < chang*d and discovered thing,' &c. She has just openly exposed her character. Delius : That is, i^ thing whose genuine self (in this case, therefore, whose fiendish self) is concealed, covered. Cowden Clarke : Thou perverted creature, who hast covered thyself with the hideousness only proper to a fiend. Singer (ed. 2) : This is evidently a misprint iox fal/e'couef^d, What follows clearly shows it : * Howe'er thou art a fiend, A looman^s shape doth shield thee.' Collier (ed. 2) : The (MS) offers no emendation ; but we may express our confidence that Shakespeare's word was * self-govern* d,* which was misheard by the scribe, or by the compositor, * self-cover'd ' — a compound out of which it is only just possible to extract a consistent meaning. Albany complains of the changed and self- willed disposition of Goneril. J. Beale (Wl &» Qu, 5th Ser. vol. vi, p. 303, 1876) sugg^ts ' ^iVz/iV-cover'd.' John Bulloch {Ibid,)i The proper reading is a term connected with the law of marriage : ' st\{-covert,^ Schmidt {Lex,) : Dressed in one's native semblance. Goneril must be supposed to have, by changing countenance, be* trayed all her wickedness. Wright : Who hast disguised thyself in this unnatural and fiendlike shape. Moberly [reading, * ^Mcoloured*] : A creature whose vile appearance is self-assumed. It seems allowable to read coloured instead of ' covered,' in which it is hard to see any sense. Collier (ed. 3) : Possibly < self-/9Ti«^</ thing.' Crosby {Lit, World^iz November, Boston, 1879) considers * changed' as equivalent to bewitched^9& in Af id. N. D. IH, i, 117, and for « self-cover'd ' proposes j^jr-cover'd and urges in proof of its propriety : ' First, it furnishes the ground for Albany's taunt of shame : Thou be-devilled creature, covered as thou art with all the lineaments of a woman, and yet guilty of such monstrous, unwomanly cruelty, ** for shame I " Secondly, the reason why he cannot obey the promptings of his passion, and put her to instant death, is to be found in the next sentence : ** Were 't," &c., t. e, " were it becoming me, as a tnan, to lay violent hands upon a woman," and in <* A woman's shape doth shield thee," which exactly paraphrases sex-covered. Lastly, it supplies the antithetic point in Goneril's reply : «* Marry, your manhood, now I " ' Further- more, Crosby finds in the word * feature ' another meaning besides its usual one (see the next note), viz : sex or womanhood. This, he says, is in ' full unison with its etymology from the Lat. facerei and refers to that ' which distinguished Goneril's 21*
246
KING LEAR
[act IV. 8C. iL
65
* Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness
* To let these hands obey my blood,
* They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
* Thy flesh and bones. However thou art a fiend.
* A woman's shape doth shield thee.
* Can. Marry, your manhood now — ♦
Enter a Messen^.
* Alb. What news?*
Mess. Oh, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead, 70 Slain by his servant, going to put out The other eye of Gloucester.
Alb. Gloucester's eyes !
63. Be-monster..,. feaiure\ Septnte hne. Kdy.
Were'(\ Were it Cap. Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Coll. Del. Wh. Ktly.
64. To] As man to Anon.*
hands'] hands of mine Steev. conj. blood] boiling blood Theob. Warb. Cap. blood^s behest Anon.*
65. They are] TS/yV^ Theob. Warb, Johi^. Dyce ii, Huds.
65. dislocate] dijleeaie (if\.
66. howler] Theob. how ere Qq. 68. manhoodnow — ] monhoodmew^*
Q,. manhood mew. Cam. Wr. man- hood now I Theob. Sch.
Enter a Messenger.] Ff (after /oole, line 6i). Enter a Gentleman. Qq. (afterif/ivrj/Q,).
70, &c. Mess.] Mes. Ff Gent. Qq.
70-72. Oh.„ Gloueester.] Trose, Qq.
making from that of a man.' ' Be-monster not thy feature ' therefore * means *' Make not a monster of thy sex," ** change not thy woman's form into a devil. Albany having just said, ** Proper deformity seems not in the Fiend So horrid as in Woman." ... As a woman Goneril's " shape ' covers^ i. e. protects, her from her husband's im- mediate fury.' [This emendation Crosby proposed in N. 6* Qu- 5th Ser. vi, 225, 1876, and no one, I think, can fail to be struck with its ingenuity, <and yet — .* Is it over-refinement to suppose that this revelation to Albany of his wife's fiendlike cha- racter transforms, in his eyes, even her person ? She is changed, her true self has been covered ; now that she stands revealed, her whole outward shape is be-mon* stered. No woman, least of all Goneril, could remain unmoved under such scathing words from her husband. Goneril's 'feature' is quivering and her face distorted with passion. Then it is that Albany tells her not to let her evil self, hitherto cov- ered and concealed, betray itself in all its hideousness in her outward shape. — Ed.]
63. feature] See Schmidt's Lex. for proof that this invariably means in Sh. the shape, exterior, the whole turn or cast of the body.
64. blood] Dyce((?^».): Disposition, inclination, temperament, impulse. [See III, V, 20.] This line Abbott, $ 508, does not consider defective in metre, but supposes that a foot may be omitted where there is any marked pause arising from emotion, as here, at the end of the line.
68. manhood now—] Delius : She had just before taunted him with being * milk-liver'd.' Wright explains his reading as 'to keep in, to restrain' your manhood.
ACTXV.s&ilJ king LEAR 247
Mess. A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, 73
Opposed against the a£l, bending his sword To his great master ; who thereat enraged 75
Flew on him and amongst them fell'd him dead. But not withput that harmful stroke which since Hath pluck'd him after.
Alb. This shows you are above.
You justicers, that these our nofher crimes So speedily can venge. — But, O poor Gloucester I 80
Lost he his other eye ?
Mess. Both, both, my lord. —
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer ; Tis from your sister.
Gon. [Aside'] One way Hike this well ;
But being widow, and my Gloucester with her. May all the building in my iancy pluck 85
73. thrilPd] thrald Qq. Stcev. »78. ab<me you lufiiftrs Q,.
75. thereat enraged'^ tAreat-enrafd aboue your Juflices Q,. about You F,. JuJlicesYi. above, you yustt'eeStKowe-^t
76. and amoHgsf\ they amongst Han. Cap. Jen. Sch.
feiVd Mm] feU he Cap. conj. 79. nether] neather Q,F,.
77. not] now Warb. (a misprint?) 81-83. Both.„sister,] Two lines, Qq»
77. 78. tL/kich.„a/fer,] One line in Q^ the first ending answer in 0., txAfpeedy 78-81. rii&r...47^/] Three lines, end- in Q..
ing lujti/trs (or Iuftices),.,venge,.jeye t 83. [Aside] Johns.
in Qq. 84. being] she being Ktly.
78. 79. above. You Justicers] Cap. conj. 85. in] on Qq, Wh. of Cap. conj.
73. remorae] Dycb {Gloss.) i Compassion, tenderness of heart.
74i 75- bending . . . master] Ecclbs: The sense would be improved bjr reading ' bending the sword Of his great master,' that is, turning it aside to prevent the exe* Ctttion of the threatened mischief.. Or suppose it were : * bending aside the sword Of his,' &c Schmidt {Lex,) : That is, directing, turning, his sword against his master.
75. thereat enraged] Colukr: The reading of F, is not inappropriate, and might be right if thie Qq did not contradict it and if the verse were not thereby injured.
76. amongst them] Moberly : The messenger does not mention that the blow came from Regan's hand.
76. fell'd] Abbott, $ 399 : Where there can be no doubt what is the nominative. It is sometimes omitted. See II, ii, 114; II, iv, 41 ; and Ham, II, ii, 67.
79. justicers] See III, vi, 21.
83. weU ;] Mason : Goneril s plan was to poison her sister, — to marry Edmund,-^ to murder Albany, — and to get possession of the whole kingdom. As the death of Cornwall facilitated the last part of her scheme, she was pleased at it; but disliked It, as it put it in the power of her sister to marry Edmund.
85. building in my fancy] Steevens: Compare Cor, II, i, 316: *the buildings
248 KING LEAR [act iv. sc ft.
Upon my hateful life. Another way, 86
The news is not so tart — 1 11 read, and answer. \Exit
Alb. Where was his son when they did take his eyes?
Mess. Come with my lady hithen
Alb. He is not here.
Mess. No, my good lord ; I met him back again. 90
Alb. Knows he the wickedness ?
Mess. Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him, And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment Might have the freer course.
Alb. Gloucester, I live
To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king, 95
And to revenge thine eyes. — Come hither, friend ; Tell me what more thou know'st \ExeufU.
86, 87. l^m,.Jart,'\ Vpm,.Jooke^ Qq 94-96- Gloiu€sier,.^a!\ As < Aside,'
(in one line). Johns. Jen. Ec.
87. tart.^rW^ tart [To him] ril 94-97- Gioucester....Jknov^st'] Three CoU. Del. Wh. lines in Qq, the first two ending JCimg^..
[Exit.] Om. Ff. friend, in Q,, and loue,.^es; in Q^.
88. Two lines in Ff. 95. short^dsf] Steev. Jhrwdfi F,F.F^
89. Hi »] His Pope + , Cap. Dyce ii. fliewdft F,. Jkewedft Qq. shawidst Scb Huds. 96. thine] thy Qq.
93. on^rpose'\ of purpo/e FjF^+ 97. kntndst^knowft F,, kncweji Qq.
their] there Q,. [Exeunt.] Exit. Qq.
of my fancy.' White : The * in' of the Ff is a mere misprint for an; that b. the building of my fancy, a use of on common enough.
86. Another way] Wright: In contrast with what she has just been saying, She really takes the same view of the position as in the first line of her speech.
90. back again] Wright : That is, on his way back.
ACT IV, sc. ill.] KING LEAR 249
♦ SCEN5 III. The French camp near Dover.
* Enter Kent and a GeDtleman.
• Kent. Why the King of Fralice is so suddenly gone i *back know you the reason?
Scene in.] Pope. This Scene is \^^, Wky,,Mck'\Tht King of Franit
omitted in Ff, Rowe. For this scene so suddenly gone back t Pope +, Cap. Ec substitutes SaWB v, and calls this, JVhy„„reason /] Two lines, the
Scene iv. nest ending backe^ in Q^ Pope-h, Cap.
The French...] Steev. Om.Pope. Jen. French Camp under Dover. Cap. Dover. i. Francel Fraunee Q^*
Theob. 2. the'] no Q,.
Scene III] Johnson : This scene seems to have been left out of the Folio only to shorten the play. [See Appendix, The Text,]
As will be seen by the Textual Notes, Eccles again makes a transposition of scenes. Between the preceding scene and this present one, he inserts Scene V, call- ing it Scene III. Wherefore our Scenes III and IV are his Scenes IV and V. The object of this change is to bring closer together all those scenes which represent the transactions in the neighborhood of Dover, and to render unnecessary the supposi- tion that Lear passes a night in the open fields. Eccles says: The distance probably imagined between the place where Regan has that conference with the Steward, which makes the subject of the Scene now before us [Eccles*s Scene III, our Scene V], and the vicinity of Dover, seems to be such as requires the notion of a night inter- vening before he arrives et the latter, and, consequently, the same space of time must elapse between any scene which precedes that just mentioned and any other wherein he appears to have arrived near Dover, as he does in the sixth scene. It follows, then, that between the fourth and sixth, as hitherto numbered, a night must pass; but the solicitude to find the King, expressed by Cordelia in the former of these, makes it probable that her efforts were attended with success before the coming on of night. Let, therefore, scene the fifth of the ancient distribution stand as the third in this place, and suppose It to pass on the evening of the third day since that, inclusively taken, on the morning of which Lear, attended by certain of hb knights, began to be conveyed from the castle of Gloucester on his route towards Dover, and that, in some fonner part of the same, Edmund had departed from Regan upon the business which she here mentions as the motive of his expedition. • . . It appears that the Steward, not finding Edmund as he expected, sets out towards Dover with* out loss of time in pursuit of him. I suppose the troops of Albany to have begun their march towards Dover, but in another direction, about the time of the Steward's departure from home charged with the execution of GoneriPs commission. That might be either some pait of thcsame day on which she had reached her own habi« tation accompanied by Edmund, or the morning of the succeeding one, so as to allow time for the Steward to arrive at his destination in the evening, as there is some reason for supposing he had done by Regan's exhortation in this scene [ouf Scene V] to wait the safe conduct of her forces on the morrow, and her hint respect-
250 KING LEAR [act iv. sc a
* Gent Something he left imperfeft in the state which
* since his coming forth is thought of, which imports to the
* kingdom so much fear and danger that his personal return 5
* was most required and necessary.
* Kent Who hath he left behind him General ?
* Gent The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.
3-^. Something, niceuary\ Poor 7. }Vho\ Whom Warb. Johns. Ec
line9» ending stat<,,.which„.danger,.,. Coll. Wh. Ktly.
necessary, Pope+, Cap. Jen. Mai. Ec 8. AfarsAnll Qq, Dyce, Wh. Glo.-I-,
Ktly. Ending state,.,whieh„Jang€r,., Huds. C^l. iii. Mareschal Pope et cet
required Steev. Bos. Coll. Wh. Ktly. Monsieur] Monfier Q,. Monn*
4. io] Om. Pope+. JUur Q,.
S- personal] Om. Pope, Theob. Han. La Far] la Far Qq. le Far PopeH- ,
Warb. Cap. Jen. Knt, Sta. ie Fer. Cap. Steev. Ec
6. and necessary] Om. Voss. Var. Coll. Sing. Ktly.
ing the insecurity of travelling. [See Appendix : The Duration of the Action p. 409.] When Eccles comes to this present scene, which he calls Scene IV, he says : Let the period of this scene be supposed the fourth morning from that (both, however, inclusively) whereon Lear, with Kent and the rest of his attendants, began his prog- ress from Gloucester's castle, Goneril and Edmund from the same set out for the palace of Albany, and, later in the day, the sightless Gloucester, conducted by the Old Man, began to go to Dover. The Gentleman who enters, conversing with Kent, is the same who was deputed by him as a messenger to Dover on the night of the storm. From their conversation we infer that this meeting has but a very little while before taken place. Kent appean to be but newly arrived. The Gentle- man, though he could not have set out many hours before the King and his party, yet, having travelled with more expedition, may reasonably be thought to have been long enough arrived to have had an opportunity for the conference with Cordelia.
Gentleman] Johnson : The same whom he had sent with letters to Cordelia.
2. reason] Steevens : The King of France being no longer a necessary person- age, it was fit that some pretext for getting rid of him should be formed before the play was too near advanced towards a conclusion. Decency required that a monarch should not be silently shuffled into the pack of insignificant characters ; and there fore his dismission (which could be effected only* by a sudden recall to' his own dominions) was to be accounted for before the audience. For this purpose, among others, the present scene was introduced. It is difficult indeed to say what use could have been made of the king, had he iippeared at the head of his own armament, and survived the murder of his queen. His conjugal cbncem on the occasion might have weakened the effect of Lear*s parental sorrow ; and, being an object of respect as well as pity, he would naturally have divided the spectators* attention, and thereby diminished the consequence of Albany, Edgar, and Kent, whose exemplary virtues -deserved to be ultimately placed in the most bonspicuous point of view.
7. Who] For instances of the neglect of the inflection of who^ see V, iii, 249 : Macb. Ill, i, 122 J III, iv, 42; IV, iii, 171 ; Ham. II. ii, IQ3, and Abbott, $274.
ACT IV. sc iu.] KING LEAR 25 i
* Kent Did your letters pierce the queen to any de-
* monstration of grief? 10
* Gent. Ay, sir ; she took them, read them in my presence,
* And now and then an ample tear trill'd down
* Her delicate cheek. It seem'd she was a queen
* Over her passion, who most rebel-like
* Sought to be king o'er her.
* Kent Oh, then it moved her. 15
* Gent Not to a rage ; patience and sorrow strove
* Who should express her goodliest You have seen
* Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears
* Were like a better way ; those happy smilets
9. Did,.,any\ Separate tine, Ktly. 16. strov€\ Pope. Jlreme Qq.
^,\o, Did,„.of grief f\ Well; say^ 17 Who'\ Which Yo^-^t .
tir, did,, jif her grief f Cap., as verse, 18,19. her^^way,^ Om. Pope, Han.
the first line ending queen, 19. like a better way,"] like a better
11. Ay, sir;} Johns. /, sir, Theob. + , way Q,. /ihe a better way, Q,. lihe a I fay Qq, Pope. wetter May, Warb. Theob. Johns. Cap.
them„Jhem'\ ^em.,^em Pope+. Jen. like a better day, Theob. Steev.
13-15. Her„Mer,'\ As in Pope. Two Knt, Dyce, Sta. like a better May
lines, the first ending pajion, Qq. Toilet, Mai. Ec. Bos. Coll. Wh. a
14. Over"] ouer Q,. ore Q^. chequered day Dodd. like a bitter May
wh6\ which Pope+ Lloyd.* like *em; — a better way Ktly.
16-24. Not, ill No punctuation ^^fpy] happust Pope ii, Theob.
throughout, but commas, in Qq, except Warb.
dropt : line 22 in Q^. smiUts'\ smiles Pope + . Cap. Steev.
16. Not ta a rage} But not to rage Ec. Var. Pope, Theob. Han. Warb.
12. trill'd] Walker {Crit, iii, 282) gives other instances of the use of this word from Jonson's Every Man out of his Humour, IH, ii ; Browne's Britannia^s Pas^ torals, b. ii, song iv ; and b. i, song v. Wright : Cotgrave has * Transcouler, To glide, slide, slip, runne, trill, or trickle (also, to straine) through.'
14, 17. who] For other instances of < who ' personifying irrational antecedents, see Abbott, § 264.
18. Sunshine and rain] Moberly: It is the triumph of a poet thus to make two feelings work at once in one mind. Thus Homer makes the women's teais for Patroclus turn to tears for their own bondage {\iQTp6ifXov npo^tv cf6v d* avrCnf idiS^ iKdanj) ; the dying Dido in Virgil struggles for the light, but hates it when found (qusesivit cselo lucem ingemuitque reperta). But no poet ever ventures, as Sh. does here, to imagine a grief, the most powerful of which human nature is capable, thus controlled by the tranquil graciousness of a calm nature, which cannot do other- wise than hold its own amid all disturbance, and is incapable of losing its balance ; the inward perfection thus giving lovely mildness to the accidental and temporary emotion which still remains entire and undestroyed.
19. like a better way] Warburton proposed < a toetter May, i. e. a spring season wetter than ordinary;' and Theobald supported the conjecture by citing
252 KING LEAR [act iv. 9C. iii.
[19. like a better way.]
Shalccspcarc's 'May of youth.'— ilfiiril Ado^ V, I, 76; -sweet May.'— i?*^;!. //• V, i, 79; 'rose of Vivj}—Ham, IV, ▼, 153; &c Heath proposed 'an A^day^ because the 'joint appearance of rain and sunshine' was more characteristic of that month than of May. In Theobald's second edition, although Warbuiton's change is still retained in the text, yet the phrase is cited in the note as ' a better day,* This emendation was adopted, without credit, by Steevens in his edition of 1773; in his edition of 1 778 he says : A hetitr day is the bat day, and the best day is a day most favourable to the productions of the earth* Such are the days in which there is a due admixture of rain and sunshine. The comparative is used by Milton and others, instead of the positive alid superlative, as well as by Sh. himself in the play before tis: 'The safer sense,' &c. IV, vi, 81; 'better part of man.' — Macb, V, viii, 18. The thought b taken from Sidney's Arcadia^ p. 244 : < Her tears came dropping down like rain in sunshine.' Cordelia^s behaviour is apparently copied from Philo- clea's. The same book, in another plaoe, says : ' her tears followed one another like a precious rope of pearl.' In this same edition of Steevens in 1778 a note is given by ToLLET in which he suggests that 'a better day^ or 'a better May^ is better than Warburton's alteration, because it implies that sunshine prevaik over rain, whereas Warburton's 'wetter May' implies that Cordelia's sorrow excelled her patience. Maix)NE adopted Toilet's emendation, without credit, in the following note : If a better day means either a good day, or the best day, it cannot represent Cordelia's smiles and tears ; for neither the one nor the other necessarily implies rain^ without which there is nothing to correspond with her tears; nor caq a rainy day^ occasionally brightened by sunshine, with any propriety be called a good or the best day. We are compelled, therefore, to make some other change. A better May, on the other hand, whether we understand by it a good May, or a May better than ordi- nary, corresponds exactly with the preceding image ; for in every May, rain may be expected, and in a good, or better May than ordinary, the sunshine, like Cordelia's smiles, will predominate. Mr Steevens has quoted a passage from S\dxitj*% Arcadia, Perhaps the following passage in the same book, p. 163, ed. 1593, bears a still nearer resemblance to that before us : ' And with that she prettily smiled^ which mingled with her tears, one could not tell whether it were a mourning pleasure or a delightful sorrow ; but like when a few April drops are scattered by a gentle zephyrus among fine-coloured flowers.' [To the citations which he had previously given] Steevens afterwards added the following : Again in A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cautels^ &c., translated from the French, &c. by H. W. [Henry Wotton], 1578, p. 289: ' Who hath viewed in the spring time, raine and sunne-shine in one moment, might beholde the troubled countenance of the gentlewoman, after she had read and over- read the letters of her Floradin with an eye now smyling, then bathed in teares.' Singer, in his first edition, gives a note, with which he ' had been favoured by Mr BOADBN ' X '" Her smiles and tears Were like; a better way." That is, Cordelia's smiles and tears were HAe the conjunction of sunshine and rain, in a better ^vay or manner. Now, in what did this better way consist ? Why, simply in the smiles seeming unconscious of the tears ; whereas the sunshine has a watery look through the falling drops of rain — "Those happy smiles • . . seem'd not to knew What guests were in her eyes." The passages cited by Steevens and Malone prove that the point of comparison was neither a " better day " nor a " wetter May." I may just observe.
ACT IV, sc. ui.] KING LEAR 253
* That play'd on her ripe hp seem'd not to know 20
* What guests were in her eyes ; which parted thence
* As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief,
* Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved,
* If all could so become it.
* K€7it Made she no verbal question ?
20. uenCd^ Pope, feenu Qq. 22. In brief '\ In brief sir^ Cap.
22-24. As pearl5.,M.'] Lines end sor^ 24. questian'\ quests Han. pteti
r<no...alL..it, Cap. Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Warb. Coll. Sing. Dyce.Wh. Ktly.
as perhaps an illustration, that the better way of charity is that the right hand should not know what the left hand giveth.' Singer adopted this punctuation in both of his editions. White : Here • better * is used, not by way of comparing the May of Cor- delia's smiles and tears in degree to another and inferior encounter of sunshine and showers, but as an epithet implying eminence (which in its very essence is compara* tive) to which, in kind, her emotional struggle is likened. This elegant use of tho comparative form is not uncommon with our best writers. Hudson [reading ' Were like : a better way, — '] : The sense is clearly completed at * like,' and should there be cut off from what follows : < Yon have seen sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears were like;' that is, were like 'sunshine and rain at once.' Then begins another thought, or another mode of illustration : to speak it in a better way, to express it in a better form of words, ' those happy sniilets,' &c. And I insist upon it that the passage so read is better poetry, as well as better sense and better logic, than with ' way ' turned into ' May ' or ' day/ and made an adjunct or tag to ' like.' DsutJS follows Boaden in taking the phrase adverbially, but does not follow Boaden's punctuation. His text is the same as ours. Cowden Clarke:* It means that her mingled < smiles and teais ' expressed her feelings in * a better way ' than either
* patience or sorrow ' could do separately; each of which ' strove who should express her goodliest.' The words < her smiles and tears were like a better way,' moreover, include comparison with the opening phrase of the speech, ' Not to a rage ; ' showing that her emotion vented itself in nothing like rage, but (< a better way ') in gentle « smiles and tears,' compounded of both < patience and sorrow.' Wright : It is not clear what sense can be made of it. The emendations which have been proposed are none of them perfectly satisfactory. The substitution of Afay for ' way ' would be well enough but for the adjective < better' which accompanies it. Moberly : The meaning may be ' a better course of nature,' something better than natire knows« Bulloch (p. 246) proposes Mink'd in bright array.'
22. dropp'd] Steevens : For the sake of rhythm we might read dropping. This idea might have been taken from the ornaments of the ancient carcanet or necklace, which frequently consisted of table diamonds with pearls appended to them, or, in the jeweler's phrase, dropping from them. Pendants for the ear are still called drops, A similar thought occurs in Middleton's A Game at Chess [I, i] : < The holy dew of prayer lies like pearl Dropt from the opening eye-lids of the mom Upon the bashful rose.' Milton has translated this image into his Lycidas : * Under the open« log eye-lids of the mom.'
a4« question] Stbevsns : Did she enter into no conversation with you? In this 22
254 KING LEAR [act iv, sc. iiL
* Gent. Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of
•father' 25
* Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart ;
* Cried ' Sisters ! sisters ! Shame of ladies ! sisters !
* Kent ! father ! sisters ! What, i' th* storm ? i' th' night ?
* Let pity not be believed ! ' There she shook
* The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 30
* And clamour moisten'd ; then away she started
25. Faith^ Om. Pope. }>i,Theob. + , night Qq. storm of night Pope, Han.
Cap. 29. pity not be detieved] pUie not bt
2$"^^ Faith.,Mioni\lnQ<\ik0^iWiC' beleefiCl^, pittynot bebeUeu^dQ^. pity
tnatioii thronghoQt but commas, except n^er believe it Pope+. it not be believed
Ladies Jiften .* in Qi, and Ladiisjtften ; Cap. pity not believe it Jen.
and night f Q^ Kent is in italics, as There"] Then Pope,
though he were the speaker of what fol- 31. And clamour moistened;"] Cap*
lows, with a comma after it in Q,t and a And clamour moijtened her, Qq, Johns,
full stop in Q^ ; but no indenture in either Jen. Om. Pope, Han. And, clamour'
case. motioned, Theob. Warb. And clamour
25. she,.,/ath€rj One line, P6pe. softened: Cartwright.
7, 28. Shame^,fiUher I sisters f] Om. 31, 32. then away she started,„alone'\
Pope, Han. And then retir'd^Mlone (reading And
storm t V UC nsghi\ Jlorme ith „Mlone as one line), Pope, Han.
sense Sh. frequently uses this word, and not simply as the act of interrogation. Did she give you to understand her meaning by words as well as by the foregoing external testimonies of sorrow ?
28. Kent I J Capxll [led by the text of Q^, supposed that Kent here interrupts with the exclamation, • Father I sisters I ' and so printed his text, and was followed by EocLKs] : Any mention of Kent, by ejaculation or otherwise, was not probable to come from Cordelia; and most unfit for this place, — ^to rank with 'father' and •sisters' (indeed, take the lead of them) in the sorrows of that lady; as repetitions, and in a tone of admiring approaching something to sarcasm, the words have pro- priety; for this is convey*d by them, — * Father indeed; And what sisters!* they are heard by the Gentleman, but don't interrupt him ; pass with him for an hemistich, and he goes on in another.
29. belieyed t] Steevbns : Let not such a thing as pity be supposed to exist ! Schmidt : Verse and sense are improved [by Capell's reading of ] ir for ' pity.'
31. clamour moisten'd] Warburtoh: Though 'clamour' may distort the mouth, it is not wont to moisten the eyes. Read ' clamour-iwo/^V.' She bore her grief hitherto, says the relater, in silence; but being no longer able to contain it, she flies away» and retires to her closet to deal with it in private. This he finely calls
* clamour-motion'd,' or provoked to a loud expression of her sorrow, which drives her from company. Theobald: It is not impossible, but Sh. may have form'd this fine picture of Cordelia's agony from Holy Writ, in the conduct of Joseph, who, being no longer able to restrain the vehemence of his affection, commanded all his retinue from his presence, and then wept aloud, and discovered himself to His tNrethren. Johnson : The sense is good of the old reading, ' Qamour moistened
ACT IV, sc ui.] KING LEAR 255
* To deal with grief alone.
* Kent It is the stars, 32
* The stars above us, govern our conditions ;
* Else one self mate and mate could not beget
* Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? 35
32. // is the stan^ Om« Pope, Han. 54. and mate\ and make Q,.
32, 33. //...ro»^t/ii0iff /] Theob. One 1%, You spoke nof^ Spoke you '?o^'^^
line, Qq. since f\Jince, Q,.
34. sel/maie] self-matt Pope+.
her/ that is, her outcries were accompanied with tears. Heath : The hyphen should be omitted, and ' clamour moisten'd ' pronounced and considered as two distinct words. G)rdelia had at first broke out into exclamations ; then followed the tears, with which, when she had moistened these exclamations (for the words under consideration are an ablative absolute), she retired to the farther indulgence of her grief in private. Capell: 'Clamour' may stand for the exclamatioas preceding, which Cordelia
* moistens ' with the teais which followed them instantly; or it may be put with more boldness for a grief ready to burst out into 'clamour/ taken strictly and properly; which she * moisten'd/ allayed by moistening, with the tears that then broke from her, as winds are by rain. White [reading ' And, damour-moisten'd, then '] : That is, plainly enough, < And with her cheeks wet with her outburst of sorrow, away she Btaited,' &c So in this play, V,iii, 205 ; ' This would have seem'd a period To such as love not sorrow. . • • Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man.' The reader will not wonder at a Note on this passage, when he sees it in all recent editions hitherto with thu astounding punctuation : ' And clamour moisten'd : then/ and the explanation that * she ' is the nominative to ' moisten'd,' and that Cordelia moistened her clamour I Hudson [adopting White's text] : I cannot say that the reading here given altogether satisfies me ; but it seems, on the whole, the best both in sense and in language. The meaning of ' clamour-moisten'd ' is, her voice being smothered with weeping, or her crying drenched with tears. Walker ( Crii, i, 157) : Write * — her heavenly eyes. And damour-moisten'd.' (luctu madentes,) ' Clamour ' here signifies waUing. Compare V, iii, 205. [Cited by White.] Deuus : * Moisten'd ' is here nsed intransitively: clamour became moist. Schmidt {Lex,) gives examples of
* clamour ' bearing the following meanings : outcry, vociferation ; loud wailing (the present passage cited) ; the sound of bells ; of cannon; of the thunder; of trumpets and drums; of tempests; of the noise of a chase, a battle, &c« Wright; The objection to Walker's interpretation is, that * clamour' is the outcry, and not the tears by which it was accompanied, but perhaps the clamour is the indirect cause of the tears. [Assuredly. — Ed.] For the construction, compare Ifen. V: H, ii, 139 : * the full fraught man and best endued.' There is probably some corruption. Moberlyi Shed tears upon her cry of sorrow. [Of this corrupt phrase in this corrupt scene (perhaps the most corrupt throughout Shakespeare's plays), I can see but two note- worthy explanations: Capell's, viz: she moisten'd her clamour; and Walker's, vis : her eyes that were heavenly and wet with wailing. Of the two I much prefer the latter.— Ed.]
33. conditions] Malone : Dis|iosition, temper, quality.
34. self mate and mate] Johnson : The same husband and the same wife. [See «that self meul/ I, i, 68.]
256 KING LEAR [act iv. sc. iii.
* Gent. No. 36
* Kent Was this before the king return'd ?
* Gent. No, since.
* Kent. Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' th* town :
* Who sometime in his better tune remembers
* What we are come about, and by no means 40
* Will yield to see his daughter.
* Gent. Why, good sir?
* Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him ; his own un-
* kindness
* That stripped her from his benediftion, tum'd her
* To foreig^n casualties, gave her dear rights
* To his dog-hearted daughters ; these things sting 45
* His mind so venomously that burning shame
* Detains him from Cordelia.
* Gent. Alack, poor gentleman !
* Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not ?
* Gent. 'Tis so they are afoot
38. WtU^ sir,] Om. Pope, Han« Ifts Johns, so bows htm : his own Gip. Learns fth'llLear^si/hQq. Learns 45^7. 7b...Ci?n/f/fa.] Johns. Two
in Pope+. Liar is in Han. Lear is t* lines, the first ending tfiind, Qq. Lines
/^Cap.Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Del. GI0.+. end him„Mm,..Cordelia Pope+.
39. somitime] fome time Q,. somt- 45, 46. sting His mind] sting him times Pope+, Jen. Ec. Knt. Pope, Theob, Han. Warb.
40,41. M^<i/..u/tf»^^/r.] As by Pope. 47. /row] From his Pope Theob.
One line, Qq. Han. Warb.
42. so elbows him; his oum^/o elbows 48. not?] not. Q,.
him his own Q^. /a elbowes him, his own 49. so] Qq, Johns, Coll. Dyce, Wh.
Q^. so bows him, his "Pope, so bows him; said V/zrh. Ktly. so; Cap. Steev. Ec
his Theob. Han. Warb. so bows him. Var. Knt, Cam. so. Pope et cet.
42. so elbows him] To Bailey (ii, 99) the best emendation appears to be ' sole bars him, t . e. alone prevents him ; ' and, furthermore, he thinks that it will be no- ticed that 'the verbal change is not great: sole bars, so elbows.' Badham {Cam. Essays, 1856, p. 282) : A more incongruous figure of speech than this it would be difHcult to imagine. Sovereigns ' elbow ' no one, and such an expression as * sov- ereign shame' is either beautiful or the reverse, as the epithet is borne out by the action or effect attributed to * shame.' There is also something careless in having two subjects to the verb 'sting'; first unkindness, and then the conditions of which the unkindness was the cause. I therefore propose to read: 'so eutbows his own unkind- ness.' Wright : So stands at his elbow and reminds him of the past. Compare 2 J/en. JV: I, ii, 81. Moberly : A prevailing shame seems to buffet him. Schmidt t Perhaps it means so pushes him aside.
49. 'Tis so] Johnson : So it is that they are on foot Malone: That is, I have heard of them ; they do not exist in report only ; they are actually on foot.
iurr IV. sc. iv.l KING LEAR 257
* Kent. Well, sir, I 'II bring you to our master Lear, 50
* And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause
* Will in concealment wrap me up awhile ;
* When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
* Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go
* Along with me. {Exeunt:^ 55
Scene IV. The same. .A tent.
Enter^ with drum andeoloun^ CORDELIA. Do^or, and Soldiers.
Cor. Alack, 'tis he. Why, he was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea ; singing aloud ; Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds,
54, 55. Lending.»me^ Jen. One line, and Souldiours. Ff. Enter Cordelia
Qq. Pope+, Cap. Two lines, the first Dodlor, and others. Qq. Enter Co*
ending acquaintance^ Del. delia. Physician, and Soldiers. Fope.
54. L.^d] Fray Pope+. Pray you^ 2. mad as\ made F^F^, Rowe Cap. fvjr'^/] vext Ff. vent Qq.
55. [Exeunt.] Pope. Exit Qq. 3. Jumiter^ femiter Qq. Jumuer^ ScENB nr.] Pope. Scena Tertia. Ff Theob.+,Cap.Jen. /"/iitltor Ff, Rowe^
(Scsena F,). Rowe. Scene v. Ec. Pope, fiimitory Han.
The same. A tent.] Cap. A furrcw-weedsl farrow weeds Boo
Camp« Rowe. cher. Enter...] £nter...Cordelia, Gentlemen,
51. dear cause] See I, iv, 266.
3, &c. Farren {Essays an Mania^ 1833, p. 73) calls attention to the character of all these plants, that they are of * bitter, biting, poisonous, pungent, lurid, and dia* tiactittg properties. Thus Lear's crown is admirably descriptive or emblematic of the sources and variety of the disease under which he labours. The mixture of such flowers and plants could not be the effect of chance.* He justifies his assertion by showing that * the leaves of " Fumitory " 'are of a bitter taste, and the juice was formerly employed for its bitterness in hypochondrism and black jaundice by Hoff- man and others.' * Harlock^ the wild mustard of our cornfields, is called indifferently ekarhckf garhcJk, warlock^ and by Fitzherbert, and other old English writers, hedlock. The seeds of this plant form the pungent Durham mustard, as those of Sisutpis alba form the white mustard, and those of Sinapis nigra the common mustard* The plant rises with a stem of about nine inches, thickly set with hairs or bristles. Hence the proper name should be probably ^iV-lock, as in Danish they call the ''damell " keyre and heyre-grass. As the bitter pungency is referred to in the former case, the kitif^ pungency is- referred to here. " Hemlock " is generally known to \» poisonous. ** Nettles/' called C/rtica urens from its well-known irritating power oi stinging and htming, *• Cuckoo-flowers." Cardamine pratensis, Linn. The flowers, the sysym» ^rinm of Dioscorides, were employed among the Greeks and Romans for almost all aa* R
ZSS KING LEAR [act iv, sc. !▼.
With burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, 4
4. burdocks] Han. Johns. Cap. Jen. Knt.Sing. hoar-docks Co\\A,'Dt\.l>yfx
Sta. Wh. GIo. Cam. Dyce ii, Coll. iii. i, Ktly, Huds. kor^ocks Wr. hidioka
kor-docks Qq. Hardokes F,F,. Har^ Nicholson.*
docks FjF^, Rowe, Pope, Theob. Warb, 4. nettlesi nettle Johns.
Sch. karlocks Farmer, Steev. Ec. Var. cuckoo] cookow Q,. coockow Q,.
ofTections of the head. They hold at present a place in the Pharmacopoeia as a remedy for convulsions, epilepsy, and. other diseases of the brkin or intellect. " Darnel." Loliuni temulentum, Linn. Called temulenttim from its intoxicating or narcotic powers, when taken alone, or mixed with malt. From this deleterious prop* erty it is termed by Virgil infelix lolium^ lurid lolium, and by the French ivraie. whence our own vulgar name for it of wro^-grass, or drunkard-^ns^.*
3. fumiter] Ellacombb (p. 75) : Of Fumitories we have five species in England, all of them weeds in cultivated grounds and in hedge-rows. None of them can be considered garden plants, but they are clasely allied to the Corydalis, of which there are several pretty species, and to the very handsome /?t//^/n7j, of which one species, />. spectabilist ranks among the very handsomest of our hardy herbaceous plants. How the plant acquired its name of Tvaa\\orf,fi$meterref earth-smoke, is not very satisfactorily explained, though many explanations have been given; but that the name was an ancient one, we know from the interesting Stockholm manuscript of the eleventh century published by Mr J. Pettigrew, and of which a few lines are worth quoting : * Fumiter is erbe, I say, Yt spryngyth i April et in May. In feld, in town, in yard, et gate, Yer lond is fat and good in state. Dun red is his flour Ye erbe smek lik in colowur.'
4. burdocks] Farmer : Hardocks should be karlocks. Thus Drayton, in one of his Eclogues: 'The honeysuckle, the harlocke. The lily, and the lady-smocke.' Steevens: The Qq supply what is perhaps the true reading, though misspelt. The hoar'dock is the dock with whitish, woolly leaves. Laertes -((7^/. Mas* Ivi, 214) : It is very probable that charlock was the word intended by Sh. It is called charlock by husbandmen, and grows in great quantity amongst the barley. Com charlock (Raphanus Raphanistrum, Linn.). White, or yellow-flowered charlock (Raphanus sylvestris), — Geiard, 1597, p. 240. Wright: I find 'hardbake' is given as the equivalent of yacea nigra (or knapweed) in a MS herbal in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge (R. 14, 32) ; and in John Russell's Boke 0/ Nurture (Early Eng* lish Text Society, 1868), p. 183, is mentioned < yardehok,' which is apparently a kind of hock or mallow. If the botanists could identify the plants mentioned under these names, either of them could easily be corrupted into « Hardokes,* or • hor-docks.' [It is unfortunate that both Beisly and Ellacombe suppose Farmer's conjecture of karlocks to be the original word ; they have, therefore, given us nothing new on the subject, and do not mention < burdocks.' — Ed.]
4. hemlock] Ellaco&ibb (91) : One of the most poisonous of a suspicious family (the Umbelliferce)^ * the great Hemlocke doubtlesse is not possessed of any one good facultie, as appeareth by his lothsome smell and other apparent signes,' and with this evil character the Hemlocke was considered to be only fit for the ingredient of witches* broth — * I have been plucking, plants among. Hemlock, henbane, adder's* tongue, NigHt-shade, moonwort, lippard's-bane.' — ^Jonson [ The Masque of Queens], Yet the Hemlock adds largely to the beauty of our hedge-rows; its spotted tall stems
ACT IV. sc Iv.] KING LEAR 259
[4. nettles, cuckoo-flowers]
axid its finely cot leaves malce it a handsome weed, and the dead stems and dried nmbek are marked features in the winter appearance of the hedges. As a poison it has an evil notoriety, as being the poison by which Socrates was pnt to death, thongh this is not quite certain. It is not, however, altogether a useless plant * It IS a valuable medicinal plant, and in autumn the ripened stem is cut into pieces to make reels for worsted thread.' — Johmtone,
4. nettles] Ellaoombe: The Nettle needs no introduction; we are all too well acquainted with it, yet it is not altogether a weed to be despised. We have two iiative species [Urtica urens and U, dieica)^ with sufficiently strong qtialities, but we have a third (£/. piltdifqra)^ very curious in its manner of bearing its female flowers in clusters of compact little balls, which is far more virulent than either of our native species, and is said by Camden to have been introduced by the Romans to chafe their bodies when frozen by the cold of Britain. The story is probably apocryphal, but the plant is an alien, and only grows in a few places. Both the Latin and Eng- lish names of the plant record its qualities. Urtiea is from uro^ to bugi ; and Nettle is etymologically the same word as needle, and the plant is so named, not for its stinging qualities, but because at one time the Nettle supplied the chief instrument of sewing; not the instrument which holds the thread, and to which we now confine the word needle, but the thread itself, and very good linen it made. The poet Campbell says in one of his letters : ' I have- slept in Nettle sheets, and dined off* a Nettle table-cloth, and I have heard my mother say that she thought Nettle cloth more durable than any other linen.' It has also been used for making paper, and, for both these purposes, as well as for rope-making, the Rhea fibre of the Himalaya, which is simply a gigantic Nettle ( Urtiea or BZhmeria nived), is very largely culti- vated. Nor is the Nettle to be despised as an article o^ food. In many parts of England the yonng shoots are boiled and much relished. In February, 1661, Pepys made the entry in his diary : ' We did eat some Nettle porridge which was made on purpose to-day for some of their coming, and was very good.' Gipsies are said to cook it as an excellent vegetable, and M. Soyer tried hard, but almost in vain, to recommend it as a most dainty dish. Having so many uses, ^e are not surprised to find that it has at times been regularly cultivated as a garden crop, so that I have somewhere seen an account of tithe of Nettles being taken, and in the old church- wardens' account of St Michael's, Bath, is the entry in the year 1400 : < Pro urticis venditis ad Lawrencium Bebbe, 2d.' In other points the Nettle is a most interesting plant Microscopists find in it most beautiful objects for the microscope ; entomol- ogists value it, for it is such a favourite of butterflies and other insects that in Britain alone upwards of thirty insects feed solely on the Nettle plant, and it is one of those curious plants which mark the progress of civilization by following man wherever he goes. But as a garden-plant the only advice to be given is to keep it out of the gar- den by every means. In good cultivated ground it becomes a sad weed if once allowed a settlement. The Himalayan Bdhmerias, however, are handsome, but only for their foliage, and though we cannot, perhaps, admit our roadside Dead Nettles, which, however, are much handsomer than many foreign flowers which we carefully tend and prize, yet the Austrian Dead Nettle (Lamium orvala, Bot. Mag. v, 172) may be well admitted as a handsome garden-plant.
4. cuckoo-flowers] Beisly: The Z^r4»u^/(9J-r»r»/f, Ragged Robin, a well-known meattow and marsh plant, with rose-coloured flowers and deeply-cut narrow segments;
26o KING LEAR ^ [act nr. sc. hr.
Darnel, and all the idle weeds tbat grow 5
In our sustaining com. — A century send forth ;
Search every acre in the high-grown field.
And bring him to our eye. \ExU an Officer^ — What can
man's wisdom In the restoring his bereaved sense ? He that helps him take all my outward worth. 10
6. sustaining c9m\fuftayning,com€f worthy Ft End sye^jrestoring^Jkim^^
Q, /uflaining, Canu, Q^ fpvrfi, Capu
A... forth /] Send forth a eenfry: & [Exit..] MaL To an Officer, who
Pope, Theob, Han. Waib. goes out Cap. Om. QqFf.
century] eenturieQ^ CenteryFJP^ )3, 9. fVhat,.jenu f\ Do^ what masfs
senfry Johns. vrisdom can, In^aense, Bos. conj.
send] isfent Qq. is fetQy, 8. wisdom] wifedowu do Q;, Cap.
S-IO. And^Morth.] Pope. Endiv^- 9. his] Of his Cap.
dome,.,Jielpe hifn,.,.worth in Q,. The sense i] fence, Q^ fence f Q^
lines end wifedome do„^Julpe him.,,, Senfe: Ff.
Vforth, Q^ End wifedome„Jielpes him... 10. helps] can helpe Qq.
it blossoms at the time the cuckoo comes, hence one of its names. Wucirr: Called also, according to Gerarde, ladies' smocks and wild watercress (Cardamine praiensis). They < flower for the most part in Aprill and Maie, when the Cackowe doth b^in to sing her pleasant notes without stammering/ — Herbdtt, p. 203.
5. Darnel] Ellacombe : Virgil, in his Fidh Eclogue, says : « Grandia ssepe quibus mandavimus hordea sulcis Infelix lolium et steriles nascnntnr avenac' Thus trans- lated by Thomas Newton, 1587 : ' Sometimes there sproutes abundant store Of bag- gage, noisome weeds, Burres, Brembles, Darnel, Cockle, Dawke, Wild Oates, and choaking seedes.' And the same is repeated in the first Georgic, and in both places lolium is always translated Darnel, and so by common consent Darnel is identified with the Lolium temulentum, or wild rye grass. But in Shakespeare's time Darnel, like Cockle, was the general name for any hurtful weed. In the old translation of the Bible, the Zizania, which is now translated Tares, was sometimes translated Cockle, and liewton, writing in Shakespeare's time, says : ' Under the name of Cockle and Darnel is comprehended all vicious, noisom and unprofitable graine, en- combring and hindring good come.' — Herballto the Bible, The Darnel is not only Injurious from choking the com, but its seeds become mixed with the true Wheat, and so in Dorsetshire, and perhaps in other parts, it has the name of 'Cheat' (Barnes's Glossary), from its false likeness to Wheat. It was this false likeness that got for it its bad character. ' Darnell, or Juray,' says Lyte, Herbal, 1578, ' is a vitious graine that corobereth or anoyeth come, especially Wheat, and in his knotten straw, blades^ or leaves is like unto Wheate.'
5. idle] Unproductive, unprofitable, in opposition to < sustaining com.' See ' idle pebble,' IV, vi, 21.— Ed.
8. can] Compare Ham, IV, vii, 85 ; ' ihey can well on horseback.* • 9. the restoring] For instances of the definite article preceding a verbal that is followed by an object, see Abbott, § 93, or Mach, I, iv, 8.
10. helps] For other instances, meaning to aire, see Schmidt {Lex^.
Acriv,sc.iv.] KING LEAR 261
Do^. There is means, madam ; li
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, The which he lacks ; that to provoke in him, Are many simples operative, whose power Will close the eye of anguish.
Cor. All blest secrets, 1$
All you unpublished virtues of the earth, Spring with my tears I be aidant and remediate In the good man's distress I Seek, seek for him; Lest his ungovem'd rage dissolve the life That wants the means to lead it
StUer a Messenger.
Mess. News, madam. 20
The British powers are marching hitherward
Cor. Tis known before ; our preparation stands In expeflation of them. — O dear fether,
11. Do<fl.] Gent. Ff. 18. good fntaffs] Gdodmam F,Fg.
is] ar/ Rowe+, Jen. distresi\defires'F^JP^ defiri'F^^
12. fosttr-nune] Hyphen, Steer, Howe.
13. lacks; thai] iackes that Q.. iaciesi 20, 21. N€ws,.^ithirward.i One line, Ma/Q,. Qq.
15, 16. AlL.^arth,] One line, Qq. 23,25. In....FraH€e] Two lines, the
17. nmediati] renudiani Johns. first ending ii is^ Ktly.
II. Kellogg {Sh.^s Delintation of Insanity^ p. 26) : The reply of the Fhyadan is significant, and worthy of careful attention, as embracing a brief smnmary of almost the only tme principles recognized by modem science, and now carried out by the most eminent physicians in the treatment of the Insane. We find here no allusion to the sconrgings, the charms, the invocation of saints, &c., employed by the most eminent physicians of the time of Sh. ; neither have we any allusion to the rotary chairs, the vomitings, the purgings by hellebore, the showerings, the bleed* ings, scalp-shavings, and blisterings, which, even down to our own times, have been inflicted upon these unfortunates by 'science falsely so called,' and which stand recorded as imperishable monuments of medical folly ; but in place of all this, Sh., speaking through the mouth of the Physician, gives us the principle, simple, truthful, and universally applicable.
15. anguish] Wright: Generally used in Sh. of physical pain. See IV, vi,6.
17. remediate] Wright: A word of Shakespeare's coinage, which he seems to have formed on the model of immediate.
19. ungovemed] Deuxjs : That is, ungovernable. Adjectives formed from paiw tidples, with the negative cm-, not unfrequently admit of this modification of thdf Original meaning. [See I, iv, 294; IV, vi, 21 ; or Abbott, $ 375.]
aa means] Johnson : Tlie reason which should guide it
262 KING LEAR Lact iv, sc. v.
It is thy business that I go about;
Therefore great France 35
My mourning and important tears hath pitied.
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our aged father's right;
Soon may I hear and see him I \ExeunU
Scene V. Gloucester's castle. Enter Regan and Oswald. Reg. But are my brother's powers set forth ? * Osw. Ay, madanu
Reg. Himself in person there ?
Osw. Madam, with much ado.
Your sister is the better soldier. Reg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home?
24, 25. Ii.,»Franci\ Johns. One line* Gloucester's castle.] Cap. (subs.).
QqFf. Regan's Palace. Rowe.
26. mourning and"] Om. Han. (read- Oswald.] Steward. QqFf.
ing Tk€rf/or€,,,fifud as one hnt), 1,2. Bue,.,Himself^ One line. Cap.
im/artant'] importuned Ff, Rowe» Steev. Bos. Knt, Sing.
Sell, importunate Cap. 2. there'] Om. Qq.
27. No] Now FjF^. Madam^ Om. Pope+.
incite] in fight ^^, infiteQ^. ado,] ado, Qii, ado:T^. adoi
28. Hght] Rite F,F^ ^.^jF^.
29. [Exeunt.] Exit. Qq. Om. Jen. 2,3. Madam..Mldier,]OxitVinetQ<i, Scene v.] Pope. Scena Quarta. Ff 3, nster is] fiftet^s Q,.
(Scscna F,). Scene ni. Ec. 4. lord] Lady Qq, Pope+.
26. important] Johnson : For importunate, Schmidt {Lex^ gives the follow- ing parallel instances : Com, of Err. V, 138; Much Ado,U, \, 74; A/rs Well, III, vii, 21 ; to which perhaps might be added Ham, I, ii, 23. Moberly: So the Fron- dear party under the Duke of Beaufort was called by the court of Anne of Austria, < Les Importans.' Schmidt : Undoubtedly Sh. uses ' important ' for importunate, urgent, pressing, but importuned xaji be justified quite as fully in the same meaning.
28. aged] Abbott, §497: A monosyllable.
4. lord] Ritson: The Ff are right. Goneril not only converses with Lord Ed- mund, in the Steward's presence, but prevents him from speaking to, or even seeing, her husband. Malone : In the MSS from which the Qq were printed an L only was probably set down, according to the mode of that time. It could be of no con- sequence to Regan whether Edmund spoke with Goneril at home, as they had travelled together from the Earl of Gloucester's castle to the Duke of Albany's palace, and had on the road sufficient opportunities for laying those plans of which Regan was apprehensive. On the other hand, Edmund's abrupt departure without jBven speaking to the Duke, to whom he was sent on a commission, could not but appear mysterious and excite her jealousy. [Essentially, Capell's note.— Ed.]
ACT IV, sa v.] KING LEAR 263
Osw. No, madam. 5
Reg. What might import my sister's letter to him ?
Osw. I know not, lady.
Reg. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out, To let him live ; where he arrives he moves 10
All hearts against us ; Edmund, I think, is goii^. In pity of his misery, to dispatch His nighted life ; moreover, to descry The strength o' th' enemy.
Osw. I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. 15
Reg. Our troops set forth to-morrow ; stay with us. The ways are dangerous.
Osw. I may not, madam.
My lady charged my duty in this business.
Reg. Why should she write to Edmund ? Might not you Transport her purposes by word ? Belike, 20
Some things, — I know not what 1 11 love thee much,—* Let me unseal the letter.
Osw. Madam, I had rather—
6. Utter\ letters Q,. 17, 18. I mi^,..buHness.'\ Vtoit, Qq.
8. serious] aferious Q^ 19, 20. Might,..BeliAe^ As in Qq.
II. Edmund] and new Qq. One line, Ff.
I ^14. Two lines, the first ending Hfe^ 20. by word f Belike^ by word, belike
Qq. Qq. byword /Vope. by word of mouth f
14. «f M* enemy] ot^ Enemy F^F^F^. Han,
of k army (l^. of the Army Q^ 21. Some things,] Ff, Rowe, Sch.
15. madam] Om. Qq. SomethingQc[, Something-^ Tope ttcet. letter] Letters Qq. 22. /had] Vde Q,, Jde Q,.
16. troops set] troopefets Qq.
22. rather] Johnson : I know not well why Sh. gives to Oswald, who is a mere factor of wickedness, so much fidelity. He now refuses the letter; and afterwards, when he is dying, thinks only how it may be safely delivered. Verplanck : Sh. has here incidentally painted, without the formality of a regular moral lesson, one of the very strange and very common self-contradictions of our enigmatical nature. Zealous, honourable, even self«sacrificing fidelity, — sometimes to a chief or leader, sometimes to a party, a faction, or a gang, — appears to be so little dependent on any principle of virtuous duty, that it is often found strongest among those who have thrown off the common restraints of morality. It would seem that when man's obligations to his God or his kind are rejected or forgotten, the most abandoned mind still craves something for the exercise of its natural social sympathies, and as it loses sight of nobler and truer duties becomes, like the Steward, more and more ' duteous to the vices ' of its self-chosen masters. This is one of the moral phenomena of artificial
264 KING LEAR [activ.scv
Reg. I know your lady does not love her husband ; 23
I am sure of that; and at her late being here She gave strange oeiliads and most speaking looks 25
To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.
Osw. I, madam?
Reg. I speak in understanding; }r*are; I know't Therefore I do advise you, take this note : My lord is dead ; Edmund and I have talk'd ; 30
And more convenient is he for my hand Than for your lady's ; you may gather more. If you do find him, pray you, give him this ; And when your mistress hears thus much from you, I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. 35
24. Iam\ Pm Popc+ Jen. SUu Dyce 28. / an; Iknouff\ Ff (subs.), Jen. ii, Huds. for I hwuft Qq. YouWi; J knaw't
25. gave strange']gavi'^93^. (in text). Rowe i. y<nt are, I know it Cap. Steer. gave him Warb. (in note). Ec. Var. Knt, Del. Sing. Ktly. y are,
on/iads] Rowe. a/ioifsQq, Eliads /know ii Coll. Wb. you are, I knnfi
F,, Sch. niads F,F,F^. oeiliads Jen. Dyce, Sta. y are, I hwuft Scb. you
oeillades Cvp. eye/tads Dyce u eyliads are; fknoxdt Rowe uttcei,
Del. oeillades Glo.+> Mob. odlliadt 32. //i^V] Rowe. Ladies Qp^Fl
Dyce ii. 35, 36. One line, Qq, Pope, Theob.
26. you arel yotCre Popc+, Hads. Warb. Johns. Jen. ^7. madam f\ Madam, Qq*
society, so much within the range of Johnson's observation, as an acute observer of life, that it is strange that he should not have recognized its truth in Oswald's cha^ racter.
25. oeiliads] Wright; See Cotgrave : < Oeillade : An amorous looke, affectionate winke, wanton aspect, lustfull iert, or passionate cast, of the eye; a Sheepes eye.*
26. bosom] Wright: In her confidence. Compare Jul, Oes. V, i, 7 ; < I am in their bosoms.' And Beau, and Fl. A King and No King, I, i : ' should I chuse a companion ... for honesty to interchange my bosom with, it should be you.*
29. note] Johnson : This is not a letter, but a remark. Therefore observe what I am saying. Delius, however, maintains that it is a letter, the same which he thinks is referred to farther on, in line 33. In justification he cites, ' take thou this note,* V, iii, 28.
33. this] Capell suggested that she here gives him a ring, but Grey (or ' Mr Smith,' apud Grey, ii, 114), reading in line 29 'take note ^this,' says that it means : < Thb answer by word of mouth/ maintaining thkt it could not have been a letter, because when Oswald was afterwards killed by Edgar, and his pockets rifled, only one letter was found, and that was Goneril's; see IV, vi, 248. Whits: That is, this information, but, possibly, some token.
35. to her] Hudson : Regan's cold, shrewd, penetrating virulence is well shown in this. < Desire her call her wisdom to her ' means, in plain English, ' T^ her to
ACT xv» 8C. vL] KING LEAR 265
So, &re you well. 36
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor^ Preferment falls on him that cuts him off.
Osw. Would I could meet him^ madam I I should show What party I do follow.
Reg. Fare thee well \Exeunt. 40
Scene VI. Fields near Dover.
EnUr Gu>tJCBSTB&» and Edgar dresud Hke a peasant.
Glau. When shall I come to th' top of that same hill ?
Edg. You do climb up it now. Look, how we labour. Glau. Methinks the ground is even. Edg, Horrible steep.
Hark, do you hear the sea?
Glau. No, truly.
Edg. Why then your other senses grow imperfe^ 5
36. Sot fare you weW^/o/aretoellQtit cefter, and Edgar. Ff. Enter Glofter
Pope+, Jen. Om. Han. and Edmund. Qq.
39. him] Om. F,. i. /] w Qq, Jen. Steev. Ec. Var. thouid'\ Ff +,Dyce2,Glo.+,Sch. Knt, GI0.+.
vwild Qq et cet. 2. upi^itvp Qq.
40. party] lady Qq, Pope. Cibour,] labour f Qq. [Exeunt.] Exit. Qq. 3. even] eeuen F,F,.
SCKNK VI.] Pope. Scena Quinta. Ff Horrible'] Horribly Coll. (MS).
(Scsena F,). 3, 4. fforrible„jea f] One line, Qq,
Fields...] Cap. The Country. Jen. Ktly.
Rowe. The Countiy, near Dover. ^ Eark^ do you] Hark ^ hark; do you
Theob. not Cap.
Enter...] Theob. (subs.) Enter Glou- No, truly,] No truly , not Han.
help herself, if she can, and be hanged.' Moberly : And give up all thought of Edmund.
Scene VI.] Johnson: This scene, and the stratagem by which Gloucester is cured of his desperation, are wholly borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia, [See Hunter's note, IV, vi, 66, and Appendix, p. 386.]
1. hill] Delxus: The cliff referred to by Gloucester at the end of IV, i.
2. climb up it] Wright: For the transposition of the preposition in the Qq, see North's Plutarch, Pelopidas, p. 324 (ed. 1631) : < Notwithstanding, when they came to the hills, they sought forcibly to clime them vp.' And Isaiah, xv, 5, < with weeping shall they go it up.'
3. Horrible] Coluer : The (MS) pedantically alters this to horribly. ABBOTT9 $ I, gives many instances of the use of adjectives as adverbs. See Ham, I, iii, 116^
bow prodigal the soul'; II, i, 3, < marvellous wisely.'
266 KING LEAR [act iv, SC. vt
By your ^y^^ anguish.
Glou. So may it be indeed ; 6
Methinks thy voice is alter'd, and thou speak'st In better phrase and matter than thou didst
Edg. Y' are much deceived In nothing am I changed But in my garments.
Glau. Methinks / are better spoken. lO
Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place. Standstill How fearful
6. eyei'\ ey^s Johns. ID. Mtthinks] Sure Pope-h.
7. tf///r'</] tf///rri/ Qq, Scb. y ore\ QJPf, Coll. Sing. Wh. speaJ^si] speakeft Q^ Ktly, Sch. /ar Q,. you art Cap.
8. /if] With Qq. Slccv. Ec. Var. Knt, DeL * you'n
9. y are] Q,Ff, Coll. Sipg. Wh. Ktly, Rowe ct cet
Sch. y^r Q,« 1^ «r/ Steev. Ec 1 1. Two lines, the first ending /^r, in
Var. Knt, Del. You^re Rowe et cet. Ff, Rowe.
7. alter'd] Johnson: Edgar alters his voice in order to pass afterwards for a malignant spirit. ,
XI. Howfearful»ftc.] Johnson: This description has been much admired since the time of Addison, who has remarked, with a poor attempt at pleasantry, that * he who can read it without being giddy has a very good head^ or a very bad one.' The description is certainly not mean, but I am far from thinking it wrought to the utmost excellence of poetry. He that looks from a precipice finds himself assailed by one great and dreadful image of irresistible destruction. But this overwhelming idea is dissipated and enfeebled from the instant that the mind can restore itself to the obser- vation of particulars, and difiuse its attention to distinct objects. The enumeration of the choughs and crows, the samphire-man and the fishers, counteracts the great effect of the prospect, as it peoples the desert of intermediate vacuity, and stops the mind in the rapidity of its descent through emptiness and horror. Mason : It is to be considered that Edgar is describing an imaginary precipice, and is not therefore supposed to be so strongly impressed with the dreadful prospec^of inevitable destruc- tion as a person would be who really found himself on the brink of one. Eccles: The purpose of Edgar was, by a minute and faithful detail of such circumstances, to give the highest possible air of probability to the imposition which he designed to |>ractise on his father. Knight: In Dr Johnson's criticism we detect much of the peculiai' character of his mind, as well as of the poetical taste of the age in which he lived. Wordsworth, in the preface to the second edition of his Poems, has shown clearly upon what false foundations that criticism is built which would prefer high- sounding words, conveying only indeterminate ideas, and caU these the only proper language of poetry, in opposition ' to the simple and distinct language, ' however naturally arranged, and according to the strict laws of metre,' which by such criti- cism is denominated prosaic Johnson was thoroughly consistent in his dislike of the ' observation of particulars ' and the < attention to distinct objects.' In Boswell's Life we have a more detailed account of his poetical creed, with reference to this very description of Dover Oiffx 'Johnson said Uiat the description of the temple, in
Acnv.scvL] KING LEAR 267
[zi. DoverClifi:] Tlu Mowmmg Bride, was the fiaest poetical passage he had ever read; he recol- lected none in Sh. equal to it, —
*' How rereread is the lace of this taD pSe, Whose ancient pillan rear .their marble heads. To bear aloft its ardi'd and pond'roua roof; By ttt own weight made steadfast and immOTeabbt Looking tranquillity 1 It strikes an awe And terror on my aching sight. The tombt And monumental caves of death look cold. And shoot a rhUHnrss to my trembling heart I"
<<Bat," said Garrick, all alanned for the god of his idolatry, *<we know not the extent and yariety of his powers. We are to suppose there are such passages in his works ; Sh. must not suffer for the badness of our memories.*' Johnson, diverted by this enthusiastic jealousy, went on with great ardour — ** No, sir; Congreve has luUun " (smiling on the tragic eagerness of Garrick) ; but, composing himself, he added, " Sir. this is not comparing Congreve on the whole with Sh. on the whole, but only maintaining that Congreve has one finer passage than any that can be found in Sh« . . . What I mean is, that you can show me no passage where there is simply a description of material objects, without any intennixture of moral notions, which produces such an effect." Mr Murphy mentioned Shakespeare's description of the night before the battle of Agincourt; but it was observed it had men in it. Mr Davies suggested the speech of Juliet, in which she figures herself awaking in the tomb of her ancestors. Some one mentioned the description of Dover Qiff. John* son— "No, sir; it should be all precipice, — all vacuum. The crows impede your fall. The diminished appearance of the boats, and other circumstances, are all vtxy good description, but do not impress the mind at once with the horrible idea of immense height The impression is divided; you pass on, by computation, from one stage of the tremendous space to another. Had the girl in Tkt Mourning Bride faid she could not cast her shoe to the top of one of the pillars in the temple, it would not have aided the idea, but weakened it." ' Taken as pieces of pure descrip- tion, there is only one way of testing the different value of the passages in Sh. and Congreve — ^that is, by considering what ideas the mind receives from the different modes adopted to convey ideas. But the criticism of Johnson, even if it could have established that the passage of Congreve, taken apart, was < finer' than that of Sh., utterly overlooks the dramatic propriety of each passage. The ' girl ' in The Mourn* ing Bride is soliloquizing,— uttering a piece of versification, hannonious enough, indeed, but without any dramatic purpose. The mode in which Edgar describes the cliff is for the special information of the blind Gloucester,— one who could not look from a precipice. The crows and choughs, the samphire-gatherer, the fisherman, the bark, the surge that is seen but not heard, — each of these, incidental to the place, is selected as a standard by which Gloucester can . measure the altitude of the cliff. Transpose the description into the generalities of Congreve*s description of the cathedral, and the dramatic propriety at least is utterly destroyed. The height of the cliff is then only presented as ah image to Gloucester's mind upon the vague assertion of his conductor. Let the description begin, for example, something after the fashion of Congreve : ' How fearful is the edge of this high diff 1 ' and Continue with a proper assortment of chalky crags and gulfs below. Of what worth then would be Edgar's concluding lines: 'I'll look no more,' &c.? The mind of
268 KING LEAR [activ,8CvL
And dizzy 'tis to cast one*s eyes so low ! 12
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
Show scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down
Hangs one that gathers sampire, dreadful trade 1 15
\z.di2zy'\ dhi Q.. diiy QJF/i^. IS- w»»/w] QqFf, Cap. Sch. sam*
dixie F,. ^Aire Rowe et cet.
Gloucester might have thus received some ' idea of immense height/ but not an idea that he could appreciate * by computation.' The very defects which Johnson imputes to Shakespeare's description constitute its dramatic merit. We have no hesitation in saying further, that they constitute its surpassing poetical beauty, apart from its dramatic propriety, [Knight quotes a correspondent's assertion that the height of the Cliff is 313 feet above high- water mark.] Lessing, in the Supplement to his ZaccSon, compares this description of Dover Cliff with Milton's description of th^ height whence the King of Glory beholds Chaos : * On heavenly ground they stood, and from the shore They view'd the vast immeasurable abyss Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild, Up from the bottom turn'd by furious winds And surging waves, as mountains, to assault Heaven's highth, and with the centre mix the pole.'— /'tfm- dise Lost, vii, 210. * This depth,' says Lessing, • is far greater than Dover Cliff, and yet the description of it produces no effect, because there is nothing vbible to make it real to us, whereas in Sh, this is so admirably managed by the gradual lessening of the various objects.'
15. sampire] Toluet: * Samphire grows in great plenty on most of the sea* cli& in this country; it is terrible to see how people gather it, hanging by a rope several fathom from the top of the impending rocks, as it were in the air.' — Smith's History of Waterford^ 1774, p. 315. Malonb: This personage is not a mere crea- ture of Shakespeare's imagination, for the gathering of samphire was literally a trade or common occupation in his time, it being carried and cried about the streets, and much used as a pickle. So, in a song in Hejrwood's Rape of Lucrece^ in which the cries of London are enumerated under the title of the cries of Rome : ' I ha Rock* sampier, Rock-sampier ; Thus go the cries in Rome faire towne,' &c. Again, in Venner's Via Recta^ &c. 1622 : ■ Samphire is in like manner preserved in pickle, and eaten with meates. It is a very pleasant and familiar sauce, and agreeing with man's body.' Dover Qiff was particularly resorted to for this plant See Drayton's Pofyolbion, The Eighteenth Song: * Rob Dover's neighbouring cleeves of sampyre, to excite His dull and sickly taste, and stir up appetite.' Wright: Gerarde gives as one of its Italian names, ^Herha di San Pietro,* He says {fferball, p. 428) : ■ Rocke Sampier groweth on the rocky clxffes at Doner.' Cotgrave has ■ Herbe de S. Pierre. Sampire, Crestmarin.' Moberly: This samphire-gatherer is the realizing touch in the description; it seems a thing tl^t could not be imagined. Beisly: Crithmum maritimumt commonly called St. Peter's Herb and Sea-fennel, is abundant on rocks by the sea, flowers dull yellow, with long, glaucous, fleshy leaflets. The plant is aromatic, and the young leaves are gathered, preserved in vinegar, and eaten as a pickle. It flowers in July, August, and September. Dr W. Turner says of it : * That la Italian it is Santi Petri herba, from whence we have the name sampere,* Evelyn in his Acetaria has a receipt for pickling sampier, called the Dover receipt. The plants do not grow on any place which the sea covers; and Sh. noticed this fact in
ACT IV, sc. vi.] KING LEAR 269
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. 16
The fishermen that walk upon the beach
Appear like mice ; and yond tall anchoring bark
Diminished to her cock ; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight The murmuring surge 90
That on th' unnumber'd idle pebble chafes
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more.
Lest my brain turn and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.
Glou. Set me where you stand.
17. walkl waned Ff. Ktly, Scfa. peebU ehaffa Q^ PffbUs beach'] beaki Q,. chafe Q,. pebbles chafes Pope et cet
18. yond\ yon Qq. yon^ Cap. Steer. 22. heard„,.,rU\ heard,..Iie F,F,. Ec. Var. KBt. heard..,!' UY^. heard, its fo hie Ue (i^.
19. a buoy] a boui Q,. aboui Q^ heard ^ it is fo hie lie Q,. 21. pebble chafes} Ff, Rowe, Cap.
describing it as growing half way down the diff. Eliacombb : Being found only on rocks, it was naturally associated with Saint Peter. In our time the quantity %vlU Ecient to supply the market can be gathered without much danger; it grows in places perfectly accessible; in some localities it grows away from the clif&, so that 'the fields about Forth Gwylan, in Carnarvonshire, are covered with it.' It may be grown even in the garden, especially in gardens near the sea, and makes a pretty plant for rock- work. [I think the old spelling should be retained; it shows the old pronun* ciation and the derivation ; thus spelled, and pronounced sampeer^ all who are familiar with the sandy beaches of New Jersey will recognize in it an old friend. — Ed.]
19. cock] Johnson: Her cock-boat. Steetens: So in Chettle's Tragedy of Hoffman [I, ii] : 'I caused my lord to leap into the cock. • • . '* Rouse," quoth the ship against the rocks; <' roomer," cry I .in the cock,' &c Hence the term * cockswain.'
21. unnumber'd] Delixts: That is, innumerable. Compare 'ungovem'd' for ungovernable, IV, iv, 19. Wright; Compare ^untented' for that which cannot be tented, I, iv, 294. Abbott, $ 375 : The passive participle is often used to signify, not that which was and is, but that which toas, and therefore can be hereafter. In other words, -ed is used for -able.
21. idle] Waebueton: Barren, uncultivated. ' Eccles: Perhaps trifling, insignifi* cant; moved by a kind of continual and frivolous agitation to no purpose or effect [See f idle weeds,' IV, iv, 5.]
21. pebble chafes] Lettsom {Walhet's Vers. 268) : Perhaps pebbles chafe is the true reading, and ' surge,' consequently, a plural. The ordinary reading, pebbles chafeSf which sounds awkward even to modem ears, would have been still more offensive to those of our ancestors. [Whether we follow the Qq or Ff, we are nearer to Sh. than when we follow Pope with his harsh sibilants in a b'ne of exquisite beauty.— Ed.]
23. deficient] Delivs : In the only other instance of Shakespeare's use of thif word, 0th. I, iii, 6^, it refers, as here^ to a defect of the senses.
83 •
270 KING LEAR [act iv. sc. vi
Edg. Give me your hand. You are now within a foot 25 Of th' extreme verge. For all beneath the moon Would I not leap upright.
Clou. Let go my hand.
Here, friend, 's another purse ; in it a jewel Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies and gods Prosper it with thee ! Go thou further off; 30
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
Edg. Now fare ye well, good sir.
Glou. With all my heart
Edg, Aside,"] Why I do trifle thus with his despair Is done to cure it.
25-27. Give.,.upright,'] Three lines, 30. further] farther Qq, Cap. Coll.
ending hand:.,. Verge :..,vprighf, Ff. Del. Wh. Glo. + .
25. You are"] you* re Popc+, Dyce ii, 32. ye] Ff, Rowe+, Sch. you Qq et Huds. cet.
26. beneath] below Popc+. [Seems to go. Rowe+.
27. upright] outright Warb. Han. 33. [Aside.] Cap. Kily, Dycc ii. Col. Johns. Cap. iii. Om. QqFf et cet.
2%. frUnd,U]friends,Y^^^. friend 33.34- Why I da,,. .despair h] Why
is Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Coll. Del. Sing. / do....difpaire, tis Q,. IVhy do /....
Ktly. def pair,' Tis TJF^. Why do L.Jespair f
29. fairies] fairiegs Qj. ' Tis Rowc, Pope, Theob. Warb. Johns.
29, 30. gods of^] One line, Sch. Cap.
reading prosper^ t. Why...it.] One line, Qq.
27. upright] Warburton : But what danger in leaping ' apright ' or upwards f He who leaps thus must needs fall again on his feet upon the place whence he rose. We should read outright^ i. e. forward ; and then, being on the verge of a precipice, he must needs fall headlong. Heath : The spot is represented as so extremely near the edge of the precipice, even within a foot of it, that there was the utmost hazard in leaping even upright upon it. Mason : A man's saying on the brink of a precipice that < he would not leap forward for all beneath the moon' conveys no extraordinary idea of the danger itself, or of the apprehensions it occasioned ; it is merely saying, in other words, that ' he would not. for all the world devote himself to certain destruction.* But Edgar goes farther, and says he would not • leap upright,* which did not necessarily imply his falling down the precipice. Malonb: If War- burton had tried such a leap within a foot of the edge of a precipice, before he undertook the revision of these plays, the world would, I fear, have been deprived of his labours.
30, 32, 41. thee . . . ye . • . thee] Abbott, $ 232, cites this passage as an illus- tration of the use of thou to servants and inferiors, and of the more respectful you to masters and superiors. ' It may seem an exception that in IV, i, Edgar uses thou to Gloucester, but this is only because he is in the height of his assumed madness, mnd cannot be supposed to distinguish persons. Afterwards in Scene vi, he invari* ably uses you^ a change which, together with other changes in his language, makes
ACT IV, sc. vi.l KING LEAR 271
Glou^ \KneeUng\ O you mighty gods ! This world I do renounce, and in your sights 35
Shake patiently my great affliflion ofT; If I could bear it longer and not iall To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, My snufT and loathed part of nature should Bum itself out If Edgar live, oh bless him !— 40
Now, fellow, fare thee well.
Edg. Gone, sir; fiirewell. \He falls.
{Asidi\ And yet I know not how conceit may rob The treasury of life, when life itself Yields to the theft Had he been where he thought, By this had thought been past Alive or dead ?— 45
Ho, you sir ! friend ! Hear you, sir 1 speak !—
34. [Kneeling] He kneeIes.Qq. Om. tcrr// Qq et cet.
Ff; 42-45. And yet^^pastl As « Aside,*
39. snuff^ snufff Q,. Cap. Dyce ii, Hads.
40. him] Om. Qq. A^* fnay] my Q,.
41-48. Gone.,Mrr\ Prose, Qq. 43. treasury] treafure F,FjF^, Rowe.
41. {70fff, xiV/] Coll. Con fir ^^, \l, had ihoughf] thought had kl^,Q;x^. Gone Sir, F,. Good Sir, F,FjF^+ , Cap. 46. Ho,„,5peah /] Hoa, you, hear you, C7«i^, xiV/ Jen. Stecv. Ec. Var. Gone, friend! Sir! Sir! speah! Theob. tir, Knt Warb. Johns. Ho, you sir, you sir,
[He falls.] Qq. Om. Ff. He friend! Hear you, sir f Speak: Cap. leaps and falls along. Rowe. After friend] Om. Qq.
farewell Jackson, Knt, Sing. Dyce, Near] here F,FjF^, Rowe, Pope.
Coll. ii, Sla. Wh. Ktly. After fare thee speak] speak, speak Klly.
Gloucester say: '<Thott speak'st In better phrase and manner than thou didst." It may be partly this increased respect for Edgar, and partly euphony, which makes Gloucester use you in lines 10 and 24.'
33f 34' Why ... it] Abbott, § 41 i : This sentence combines ' Why I trifle is /# eure,^ and < My trifling is done to cure.' In itself it is illogical. Thus also V, i, 67.
38. opposeless] Abbott, S446: The suffix 'less is used for *not able to be.' Here it is * not able to be opposed,' t*. /. irresistible. It is commonly Used with words of Latin or Greek origin.
41. Gone, sir] Knight: This is ordinarily printe'd, < Gone, sir?' as if Edgar asked Gloucester if he had gone ; whereas Gloucester has previously told him, * Go thou farther off;' and, when Gloucester again speaks to him, he says, 'Gone, sir.' Dyce: Gloucester certainly does not 'leap' till after Edgar has said, 'Gone, sir; farewell.' White; Perhaps we should read ' Going, sir,' or 'Good sir.'
44. theft] Johnson: When life is willing to be destroyed. HtTDSON: I suspect that 'how' in line 42 has about the force of whether, or but that. 'When one is thus longing to die, I do not know but that even the imagination of such a leap, or such a fall, might not be the death of him, sure enough.' This interpretation agrees
272 KING LEAR [act iv, sc. vL
\Aside\ Thus might he pass indeed ; yet he revives. — 47
What are you, sir ?
Glou. Away, and let me die.
Edg. Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, 50
Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg ; but thou dost breathe ; Hast heavy substance ; bleed'st not ; speak'st ; art sound Ten masts at each make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell ; Thy life 's a miracle. Speak yet again. 55
47. As 'Aside,' Cap. Dyce ii, Huds. 52. not:'\ not f Jen,
49. Two lines, Ff. speaii^ 5(\fpeakejl Q,. fpeakft Q,. gos5amer\ go/more Qq. Goumore /peak F^F^, Rowe, Pope, Theob. Han.
Ff, Rowe. goss'mer Pope, gossemeer Warb. Jen.
Cap, sound. '\ found f F^, Rowe, Pope,
/eathers,'\ feathers and F.FjF^, Theob. Han. Warb. Jen.
Rowe. 53. at eack] at least Rowe. attacht
50. fathom] fatkomeT^YJP^. fadomi Pope, Han. Warb. Cap. Ec. at length Qq. Jervis.
51. Thou^dsf] ThoudyiFJF^T^. Thou 54. /»//] fallen Rowe+, Cap. Ec. had/l Qq, Cap. Stccv. Ec. Var. Knt. 55. TAj^} 7^e F,.
well with what Edgar says afterwards: * Thus might he pass indeed.' How is often used in a similar way ; as when we say, I know not hoW such or such a thing may work ; that is, I know not whether it may work well tit ill ; or I know not btit that it may operate the reverse of what I propose.
47. pass] Johnson : Thus might he die in reality. We still use the word * passing bell.'
49. gossamer] See Rom. &* yul. II, vi, 18.
53. at each] Theobald : *Tis certain 'tis a bold phrase, but I dare warrant it was our author's, and means, ten masts placed at the extremity of each other. Wak- burton; Mr Theobald restores the old nonsense. Johnson: We may say «ten masts on end? Jennens: We might offer another conjecture, a-sf retch; but the old reading is intelligible enough. Steevens : Perhaps we should read, ' at reachj f . e. extent. Singer reads at eche, which he derives from the Anglosaxon eaean, to add, and defines as 'drawn out at length, or each added to the other.' He also cites the other instances of the use of eehe in Shakespeare, viz : < ech ' of Q, of Mer, of Ven. in, ii, 23 ; Per. Ill, Prol. 13 ; « eech ' of F, of J/en. V: HI, Chor. 35. [The rhyme in Per, demands * eche,' but in the other cases it has been generally spelled ^>^.— >Ed.] White; Might we not read ' at eke,* t. e. added to each other? Dyce: I believe it means, * Ten masts joined each to the other.' It has given nse to sundry bad con- jectural emendations. Schmidt : Compare the passage in Son. viii, where the poet anticipates Helmholtz's theory of the sympathetic vibration of cords : * Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual orderini^.*
54. fell] For other irregular participial formations, see Abbott, S 344.
ACT IV, SC Vij
KING LEAR
273
Glau. Buthavelfairn, orno? 56
Edg. From the dread summit of this chalky bourn 1 Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark so lar Cannot be seen or heard; do but look up,
Glou. Alack, I have no ^y^s. 60
Is wretchedness deprived that benefit, To end itself by death ? 'Twas yet some comfort When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage And frustrate his proud will.
Edg. Give me your arm.
Up; so. Howis't? Feel you your legs ? You stand. 65
Glou. Too well, too well.
Edg. This is above all strangeness^
56. nof\ nolQ^.
57. wmmif']Ro\reii. SumtmtF^^T^. Somnet F,. /onimons Q,. fummom Q,.
bourn f\ Pope. ~
Bourn F^F^.
58. a-heigh{\ Hyphen, Theob. ii. ihriU-gorged'\ JkrUl-gor^d F,.
Jhrill gorged Qq. Jkrill-goi^d F.F^ Jkrillgot'd F^, Rowe.
59. up.-ivppq^.
62. death t * Twos'] death tttfos Q^.
64. arm."] arme f Q,.
65. How isUt Feel\ howfeeU Qq.
57. bourn] Knight : In a previous passage, * Come o*er the bourn, Bessy, to me,
* bourn ' signifies a river; and so in the FaerU Queene (ii. Canto vi. Stanza 10) : * My little boat can safely pass this perilous bourne.' In Milton's Comus we have, * And every bosky bourn from side to side.' Here, as Warton well explains the word,
* bourn' is a winding, deep, and narrow valley, with a rivulet at the bottom. Such a spot is a bourn because it is a boundary, a natural division ; and this is the sense in which a river is called a * bourn.' The * chalky bourn ' is, in the same way, the chalky boundary of England towards France.
58. a-height] Sec < a-twain,' II, ii, 69 ; * a^work,' III, ▼, 6, or Abbott, S 24, who after this present example adds : ' perhaps.'
66. strangeness] Hunter (ii, 273) : The incident of the difif is so extravagantly improbable that there is no defending it, and we tolerate it only as having given oc- casion to Shakespeare's only great attempt at describing a particular piece of scenery. He had probably been at Dover, and sketched the scene upon the place. He evi- dently prepares the reader for the passage by several allusions to Dover in the earlier parts of the play, and, except for the sake of introducing these descriptive lines, one cannot see why Gloucester should be led so far as Dover, when he might so easily have executed his purpose elsewhere. There is an obscurity thrown (purposely, I think) over the topography of this play. Dr Johnson says, that this scene and the stratagem are wholly borrowed from Sidney's Arcadia; but this is a mistake. It is true we have a blind king, who seeks the brow of a rock with the intention of throw- mg himself headlong. He asks his son to conduct him thither. So far the stories are coincident, but the improbable part is not yet entered upon; and, so far from Sh. having here followed Sidney, or having any countenance from a more cautious writer
274 KING LEAR [activ,scvL
Upon the crown o' tn' cliff) what thing was that (>j
Which parted from you ?
Glou. A poor unfortunate beggar.
Edg. As I stood here below, methought his ^yt:^ Were two full moons ; he had a thousand noses, 70
Horns whelk'd and waved like the enridged sea. It was some fiend ; therefore, thou happy father, Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours
67. <?•///•] «/>4* F.FjF^. oftheq<\, 71. w^^/**</] Han. w/tVQ, welki cliff, wkat^eiiffe what q^. ciiffe, Q,. tevfl/iV F,F,. fw/*V F,F^, Rowe.
what Q,. Ciiffe. VVhat Ff. weii^d Pope + , Cap. Jen. Mai. Ec. Sing.
68. un/ortunaii] unfortunt F^ enridged\ enraged Y^, Rowe, Sch, beggar^ bagger Q,. 73. ctearesf^ cUereJl QqF,F,. dearest
69. methoMghf^ mi thoughts Q,. me Pope.
thought Ff. maJie themj made their Qq.
70. he had"] a had Qq.
of fiction, the son in the Arcadia even refuses to conduct his father to the spoL Sh.» as far as our knowledge at present goes, must be answerable in his owii proper per- son, and alone, for what is too improbable to give as an incident any degree of plea- sure. At the same time, he may have owed the conception of that particular mode of suicide to Sidney, since the passage occurs in that part of the Arcadia to which he owed, according to Steevens, the episodical incidenu of Gloucester, Edmund, and Edgar. But there actually occurred in Shakespeare's time the incident of a London merchant committing suicide by throwing himself headlong from the tower of one of the churches. [I cannot think that Hunter is at his happiest in this note. His Illustrations generally are among the best that have been written. — Ed.]
68. unfortunate] According to Abbott, S 468, the unaccented syllable in this word may be softened or almost ignored in scanning. Compare ' majesty,' I, i, 91 ; 'messengers,' H, i, 124; 'delicate,' III, iv, 12, &c.
71. whelk'd] Hanmer {Gloss,) : A whelk is such a rising tumour upon the skin as the lash of a switch or whip leaves behind it. Steevens : So in Hen. V: III, vi, xo8. Fluellen, speaking of Bardolph, says: <his face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs,' &c. Malone : Twisted, convolved. A welk, or whilk, is a small shell fish. Wright : In Sherwood's English-French Dictionary, which fonns the supplement to Cotgrave's second edition, ' whelke ' is given as synonymous with < wheale,' a blister or pustule. In Chaucer {Pardoneres Tale, I4I53p ed. T. Wright), we have: 'For which ful pale and welkid is my face,' where ' welkid ' is explained by Tyrwhitt as ' withered,' but seems to mean swollen with weeping, as in the following passage Irom Sackville's Induction, 80 : ' Her wealked face with woful teares besprent.'
71. enridged] Abbott, § 440 : This word and ' the ^Mchafcd flood,' 0th, II, i, 17, are, perhaps, preferred by Sh. merely because in participles he likes some kind of prefix as a substitute for the old participial prefix. [Between ' enridged' and enraged there is to me small hesitation on the score of pictorial beauty, however great may be the reluctance to desert the Ff.— Ed.]
73. clearest] Theobald : That is, open and righteous in their dealing. So in Timon, IV, iii, 27, ' Ye clear Heavens.' Johnson : The purest; the most free from
ACTiv.savi.] KING LEAR 275
Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee.
Glou. I do remember now. Henceforth I'll bear 75
Affli6tion till it do cry out itself ' Enough, enough/ and die. That thing you speak of, I took it for a man ; often 'twould say
* The fiend, the fiend ; ' he led me to that place.
Edg. Bear free and patient thoughts. — But who comes
here? 80
Enter Lear, fanUtsHcalfy dressed with wildfffwers^
The safer-sense will ne'er accommodate
77. * Enough„,die,'\ Enough, enough. So. Two lines, Ff.
and die. Cap. Steev. £c. Var. Sing. Del. Bear free'\ Bare free Q^* Bare^
ii. (dye. Cap^) In quotation-suirks, free^ Q,.
Del. i. Enter Lear...] Cap. (subs.) En-
die. Tha£\ die that Q^. ter Lear road, (alter thus^ line 82) Qq.
78. ^itifouldjwouldi/ Q^, Jen, would Enter Lear, (after thoughts) Ff+, Jen. he Qa. Enter Lear, drest madly with Flowers*
79. ^ The fiends thejiend;^ hej Cap. Tbeob. TheJiend,theJiend—he'R,awt-^. The 81. SCBNEVII. Pope+,Jen. fiend the Jiend, he Q,. The Jlend, the 81, 82. Tke.,.thus,] One line, Qq. fiend, he QJFf. 81. wilf] would Han.
evil. Capell : It may have the sense of dear-sighted, given with some reference to the imposition on Gloucester, his weak belief of his bastard. White : The sense of the context, and the great similarity in manuscript between el and d, make it more than possible that the correct reading here is dearest. Yet, by such a change, we should lose the fine opposition of 'clearest' and < impossibilities.' Schmidt says that bright, ptire, glorious are all contained in the word ' clear.'
74. impossibilities] Capell : Who derive to themselves honour and reverence from man, by doing things which he reckons impossible. [Compare Luhe xviii, 37 1 ' The things which are impossible with men are possible with God.']
77. That thing] See II, iv, 209.
80. free] Johnson : To be melancholy is to have the mind chained down to one painful idea; there is, therefore, great propriety in exhorting Gloucester to free thoughts, to an emancipation of his soul from grief and despair. Schmidt {Lex,) i That is, not affected with any disease or distress of the body or mind ; sound, happy^ careless, unconcerned, as in III, iv, 11 ; III, vi, 103.
80. Enter Lear, &c.] We must remember that these < flowers' are an addition oy Theobald, who was undoubtedly induced to add them from Cordelia's descrip* tion in IV, iv, and also, as suggests Schmidt, from Edgar's speech at the sight of Lear: < The safer sense,' &c.— Ed.
81. safer] Warburton : VTithout doubt Sh. wrote sober, i, e, while the under* standing is- in a right frame it will never thus accommodate its owner; alluding to Lear's extravagant dress. Thence he concludes him to be mad. Capell: That is, sounder. Johnson: I read saner, Jennens : I read, with all the old copies^
* safer; ' * Nor do I think the man of safe discretion. That does affea ' to alter it«—
276 KING LEAR [act iv. sc. vl
His master thus. 8l
Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining. I am the king himself.
Edg. O thou side-piercing sight ! 8$
Lear. Nature 's above art in that respeft. — ^There's your press-money. — ^That fellow handles his bow like a crow- keeper. — Draw me a clothier's yard. — Look, look, a mouse ! Peace, peace; this piece of toasted cheese will do 'L — There's my gauntlet; I'll prove.it on a giant. — Bring up 90 the brown bills.— Oh, well flown, bird! i' th' clout, i' th' clout! hewgh! — Give the word.
%'i. eoining\ coyning Qq. crying Ff. 90. doW\ do it Qq.
85. As * Aside,' by Cap. Ec. Dyce ii. 91, 92. bird! V th' chut, V th' clout f] side-piercing'X Hyphen, Ff. Bird: T th' clout, t* th' clout: Ff {ith'
86. Nature's] Nature is Q(\, Natures '^J^J^* bird in the ayre, Qq {birde F.FjF. Q,). barb I f th' clout, € th' clout:
87,88. crow-keeper] cow-keeper'Ro^t Warb. Theob. Han. ii, Pope. 92. hewgh] Hagh Qq. hewgh /«*
89. piece of] Om. Qq. [Whistling] Coll. iii.
Meas,for Meas. I, i, 72. BlAKEWAY: The * safer sense ' seems to xne to mean the eye-sight, which, says Edgar, will never more serve the unfortunate Lear so well as tliose senses which Gloucester has remaining will serve him, who is now returned to his right mind. The eye-sight is probably the ' safer sense/ in allusion to our vulgar proverb: < Seeing is believing.' Horace terms the eyes < oculi fideles.' Gloucester afterwards laments the < stiffness of his vile sense.'
81. accommodate] See ' unaccommodated/ III, iv, 103.
^6, etseq, Capell: Lear's ravings rise chiefly from the exercises that he as king had been used to, namely, war, and war's appendages then ; in some he is listing, engag'd in battle in others, in others training his bowmen and seeing them exercise; it was once thought that falconry (a kingly amusement) had a place in these ravings, and that *bird ' [line 91] was meant of the hawk; but 'tis better understood of Uie arrow, which he calls ' well-flown ' from its being lay'd in the .' clout.'
86. Nature's above art, &c.] Schmidt : That is, a bom king can never lose his natural rights.
87. press-money] DoucB: The money paid to soldiers when they were retained in the king's service. [See Nam, I, i, 75, ' impress ' and notes.]
87. crow-keeper] One who keeps off crows from a field. [See Rom, 6* Jul. I iv, 6, and notes.] Douce : The notes on this word serve only to identify the character of a ' crow-keeper;' the comparison remains to be explained. In speaking of awk« ward shooters Ascham [Toxophilus, p. 145, ed. Arber] says: «An other coureth downe, and layeth out his buttockes, as though he shoulde shoote at crowes.'
88. clothier's yard] Many editors, from Steevens down, refer to the * arrow of a doth yard long' in Chevy- Chace,
91. brown bills] A kind of halberd used by foot-soldiers ; see Rom, &* yul, I, i, 66. W&IGHT : They were browned like the old Brown Bess to keep them from rust, 91. bird] Warburton: Lear is raving of archery, and shooting at butts, as ii
ACT IV. sc. vL] KING LEAR 2JJ
Edg. Sweet maijoram. 93
Lear. Pass.
Glou. I know that voice. 95
Lear. Ha! Goneril,— with a white beard!— They flat- tered me like a dog, and told me I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones were there. To say * ay ' and * no * to every thing that I said 1 'Ay' and 'no' too was no good
96. vnih,.,They'\ Dyce. with a white 99. every thing thati euety thing Q^ beard r They Ff. ha Regan, they Qq. all Q..
hahi Regan [ they Pope» Theob. Han. saidUJoo was] faide^ I and n»
Warb. Jen. toe^ was Q,. /aide: I and no too was
97. white] the white Ff, Sch. Q.. /aid: /, and no too^ was Ff.
plain by the words 'i' the clout,' so that we must read ' O well-flown, Barb I ^ u e. the barbed, or bearded arrow. Heath and Capell (see above, line 83) think that * bird ' metaphorically means the arrow. EccLBS : < Well-flown ' may be understood as a compound epithet of < bird.' DoucB : Lear certainly refers to falconry. In an old song on Hawking, set for four voices by Thomas Ravenscroft, * O well flown ' is a frequent address to the hawk. Steevens: 'Well-flown bird' was the falconer's expression when the hawk was successful in her flight, and is so used in A Woman Rilled with Kindness [p. 103, ed. Sh. Soc.].
91. clout] Nares : The mark fixed in the centre of the butts, at which archers shot for practice. Clouette, Fr. Literally, the nail, or pin. The best shot was that which clove or split the clout^ or pin, itself. [See ' pin/ Rotn. 6* yul, II, iv, 15, and notes.— Ed.]
92. word] Johnson: Lear suppose* himself in a garrison, and, before he lets Edgar pass, requires the watch-word.
96. beard] HaluWell: It is hardly requisite to fill up the context of a dis- jointed raving. Ha! Goneril! — to be so unfilial to a father with a white beard, to an aged father, the age of the parent aggravating the crime of the daughter. In a former part of the tragedy he says to Goneril : ' art not ashamed to look upon this beard,' meaning his venerable white beard. MOBERLY : I suppose you are Goneril, though your white beard seems against it.
98. black ones] Capell: He was told he had the wisdom of age before he had reach'd to that of a youth.
99. < Ay ' and ' no ' too] Pyb (p. 295) : It does not appear how it could be flattery to dissent from, as well as to assent to, every thing he said. The following reading was suggested to me by an ingenious friend, by only a change in the pointing and the omission of a single letter: *To say ay and no to every thing I said e^ and no to, was no good divinity.' [White adopted this reading.] Singer : It may, however, mean that they said < ay ' or ' no ' as he said ' ay ' or ' no,' but more probably that they had double thoughts, and said * ay ' to flatter him, when they said ' no ' to themselves, and vice versJL Deuus : That is, in contradiction to the Biblica ixyuaction to < let your speech be yea, yea and nay, nay.' Cowden Clarke : Lea first exclaims indignantly : < To say " ay and '* no " to every thing I said 1 ' recollect ing the facility with which his courtiers veered about in their answers to suit his varying moods, just as Osric does to Hamlet; and then he goes on to say that thu
H
278 KING LEAR [act nr, sa vi.
divinity. When the rain came to wet me once and the wind lOO to make me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em out Go to, they are not men o' their words; they told me I was everything ; 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
Glau. The trick of that voice I do well remember. 105
Is 't not the king.
Lear. Ay, every inch a king.
When I do stare, see how the subjeft quakes.— I pardon that man's life. — What was thy cause ? Adultery?
Thou shalt not die; die for adultery ? No; no
The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly Does lecher in my sight Let copulation thrive ; for Gloucester's bastard son
100. the wind^ wind F.FjF^, Rowe, matCs life, Ec. conj. Pope, Han. 108. thy\ the Theob. ii, Warb. Johns.
102. ^em.,^em\ them„Jhem Qq* Cap. Cap.
Steev. £c. Var. Knt, Sing. Ktly. 109-1 16. Adultery K.Mldiers.'] Johns.
103. men] women Upton. Six lines, ending for Adultery f,^Ffy„m d their"] of their Qq, Cap. thriue:...Father,,.j/keets...Sduldien, Ffp
104. etgue-proof] argue-proofe Qq. Rowe.
AgU'proofeY^^, Agu-proof^^. 109-130. Adultery t. thie\ Prose,
105, 106. The,.Mngf] Prose, QqF^ Pope, Theob. Han. Warb.
Rowe. no. die: die for] ^ for (i^. dye for
1 06-1 16. Ay„Mldiers] Prose, Qq. Q..
iq6, every] euer(^, 112. Does] doe (l^, doQ^.
io8,Ij09. Ipardon,,.AduUeryf]Wh<U I12-115. Lines end thrive„fathir,^
was the cause t Adultery, I pardon that sheets. Cap. Mai. Ec.
kind of 'ay' and 'no' too is no good divinity. In proof that 'ay' and 'no' was ttsed by Sh. with some degree of latitude, as a phrase signifying alternate reply, and not merely in strictness ' yes and no,' compare ^j You Like It^ III, ii, 231-240, where, if the questions Rosalind asks be examined, it will be perceived that neither 'ay* nor < no ' will do as answers to any of them, except to ' Did he ask for me ? ' Mobsrly : In ' no good divinity' the reference is to 2 Corinthians, i, 18 : ' Our word to you was not yea and nay.'
105. trick] Hanmer (Gloss,) : Frequently used for the air, or that peculiarity in a face, voice, or gesture which distinguishes it from others. [See Ham, IV, vii, 189.]
107. subject quakes] Walker {Crii, i, 246): 'If 'quakes' be right, ' subject » must refer to Gloucester alone. But I think Sh. wrote quake, ' Subject,' morepHseot meaning not suhjectus, but subjecti, as we say the elect, the reprobate. Old writers passim ; indeed the usage occurs as late as Burke. [There is great probability in this suggestion by Walker. Compare ' 'twas caviare to the generaL'— *Z&i». II» ii« 416.— Ed.]
ACT IV. sc. vi.] KING LEAR 279
Was kinder to his father than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets. I15
To \ luxury, pell-mell ! for I lack soldiers.
Behold yond simpering dame,
Whose face between her forks presages snow.
That minces virtue and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name, — 120
The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the. waist they are Centaurs,
Though women all above ;
But to the girdle do the gods inherit, 125
114. Man] T^^iif utfr#Cap. 120. To hear\ heart ^.
115. sheets^ sheets, were unto me* Ktly. 1 20-1 24. Three lines, ending nor.^
116. laekl won/ Qa* appetite. „above> Ktly (reading soiTd),
1 1 7-x 25. As in Johns. 120, 121, name, — The'\ name. The
1 17-130. Prose, QqFf. Ff+,Jcn. name to Qq.
iiy. yond} yon QqF^ yoeC Cap. \2\, soUed\ foy led ^ip^U stalled^ zxh*
Steev. Ec. Var. Knt. you F^. tpoiiedly^mfiX.
l\%. betvoeeni *tween Pope, Theob. 12^. wais/] wa/l Q^. wafieQJPU
Han. Warb. they are} tha*re Q,. the/re
presages'] presageth Qq. Johns.
\\^, does} do <)f\. 123-130. Prose, Knt
X16. luxury] Lewdness. See Ham. I, ▼, 83.
118. forks] WarburtoN: That is, her band held before her face in sign of mod* csty, with the fingers spread out, forky. W. C. Jourdaxn {Philological Soc, TVans. p. 134, 1857) gives the same interpretation [which I think unwarranted, but have no inclination to emphasise an unsavory question by discussing it. See III, iv, 104.— Ed.].
118. snow] Edwards: In construction the phrase 'between her forks' follows* <snow.' So in Tim. IV, iii, 386: * the consecrated snow That lies on Dian's lap.'
1 19. minces] Staunton : That affects the coy timidity of virtue. Singer : Thus Cotgrave, < Mineux: m . euse: f...a]so squeamish, quaint, coy, that minces it exceed* ingly,' &c. Also *Faire la sadinette. To mince it, nicefie it, make it daintie, be ▼erie squeamish, backward, or coy.' Collier: * Minces' cannot be right, since mincing meaxis to cut anything into small pieces, and, figuratively, to taJce small steps ; whereas to mimic [the reading of the (MS) and of Collier's text] is to coun* ter/eit, which is exactly what Lear intends to convey ; the ' simpering dame ' coua* terfeited or mimicked virtue, and shook her head at the mere name of pleasure.
121. fitchew] Dyce {Gloss.) i A polecat, and here a cant term for a strumpet Z2I. soiled] Heath : This b the term used for a horse that is turned out in the spring to take the first flush of grass. Thb at once cleanses the animal, and fills him with blood.
J25. But] Merely. See Ham. II, ii, 272,451. Dr Ingleby has sent me the fol- lowing: 'Among the Heresies {August, de fferes,) that arose very early in the Churdi, there started out a Sect, called [the Patemiani], possibly the spawn of the
280 KING LEAR [ACTiv.scTi
Beneath is all the fiends';
There's hell, there's darkness, there's the sulphurous pit, 127 Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie, fie, fie! pah, pah I — Give me an ounce of civet; good apothecary, sweeten my imagination; there's money for thee. 130
Glou. Oh, let me kiss that hand 1
Lear. Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.
Glou. O ruin'd piece of nature I This great world Shall so wear out to nought — Dost thou know me ?
Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou 13s
126, 127. Bnuath..,pU^ As in Glo.-f, fulphurous Ff et cet
Sch. Prose in QqFf +9 Mai. Knt, Coll. 12S. consump/wn] ean/umatiom Q,.
Del. Sing. Sta. Wh. can/ummatian Q^
£tneaih,»,Jttrkftess] One line, 129,150. mv//...xt0r^//yf]Rowe,Knt,
Johns. Cap. Jen. Steev. Bos. Dyce. Sch. Citiei; good Apothecary fweeim
126-130. £eniath,,Jhi€l Four lines, Ff. Guet^ good Apothecarie, io fweeten
ending darkness„.,pah ;..^Mpothi€ary.... Qq et cet
ihit. Johns. Jen. Five lines, ending 132. Let nu,.jnortal%ty.'\ I£ere.„mor^
darkness».Jtench,.,pah t,.,Mpoihecafy^,.. taHHe. Qq. Two lines, Ff.
thee. Ec. Five and a half lines, ending 133, 134. 0..»me /] Rowe. Three lines.
darkness.,..atench,...,me,.^.€potheeary... tndmg world., jiaught...metF{. Prose.
Thert*s,.Jhet. Ktly. Qq.
126. isaHJitisaff Warb. 134. Shall] Jhould Q.. /hold Q,.
fiend^'\QKp,,Jitnds(i<\Fl.JietuPs nought] naught QqFf, Rowe,
Johns. Pope, Theob.
liy. therms the sulphurous] Ktly, Dost thou] do you Qq, Jen.
Cam. Dyce ii, Huds. Sch. ther's the 135. thine] thy Qq. fulphury Qq {theres Q,). there is the
61thy Gnostichs; whose opinion was that the upper Parts of a man's Body were made indeed by God, but the lower Parts from the Girdle, they held was made by the devil; and very fond they grew of their fancy, which they thought gave them a Liberty to do with the devil's port what they pleas'd, so long as they reserved the rest unto GodJ^England^s Vanity: or the Voice of God against . . . Pride in Dress^ &c., 1683, p. 59.
126. Maxx)nb and Knight doubt whether any part of this speech were intended for metre. Singkr: It is too rhythmical to be left as mere prose, yet is rather lyric than heroic metre. Whitb : Not improbably the remainder of this speech it mutilated blank verse. With very slight alteration it might be presented in perfect lines of five accents. Abbott, S 511 : The highest passion of all expresses itself in prose, as here, and in the fearful frenzy of 0th. IV, i, 34-44.
133. piece of nature] Schmidt: Sh. frequently uses piece with ofvrhtrt we should expect some such word as mocUl, or master-piece^ especially a * piece of virtue^ for a pattern of virtue. An expression in Ant, 6* Cleo. V, ii, 99, comes the nearest to the present phrase, where Qeopatra says, * to imagine An Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy.'
153. This great world] See note on * little world of man,' III, i, la
ACT nr, sa vij KING LEAR 281
squiny at me ? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid ; I 'II not love. 136 Read thou this challenge ; mark but the penning of it.
GloUn Were all thy letters suns, I could not see.
Edg. [Aside] I would not take this from report; it is. And my heart breaks at it 14O
Lear. Read.
Glou. What, wifli the case or cyca:»
Lear. Oh ho, are you there with me? No eyes in youi head, nor no money in your purse ? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a light; yet you see how this 145 world goes.
136. spiiny} ffuint Q^ Pope, Han. Prose, Qq. Two lines, the first ending at me] on me Qq. report^ Ff. As * Aside,' Han. Cap. Ec.
137. ihis] thai Qq. Dyce ii, Huds.
buf] Om. Qq. 142. the case"] this case Rowe+, Cap.
4f/it]oftQ^. w»VQ^Jen,Cam. Ec.Wh.Ktly.
Wr. 144. nor no"] nor Q,, Pope, Han.
138. thj^ letters] Ff, Rowe, Knt, Sch. 144, 145. a heavy] heavy FJF^, Rowe, the letters Qq et cet. Pope, Han.
ue] F,F^ Knt, Sta. Sch. fee 145. 'lir^O ^*£r^ ^^' Ktly.
one QqFjF^ et cet. 146. ^oes,] goes f Q,.
139* 140. / would.,..usi it.] Theob.
136. squiny] Malonb: To look asquint. The word is used by Armin, Shake- speare's fellow-comedian, in his Nest of Ninnia [p. 6, ed. Sh, Soe,] : ' The World, qneasie stomackt, . . . squinies at thb, and lookes as one scorning.' Wright adds that it is still used in Suffolk, [and an American can add that it is still used here].
139. report] Staunton : There is some obscurity here. What is it Edgar would not take from report ? He must have been aware of his father's deprivation of sight ; because it is mentioned in the previous scene. We are, perhaps, to suppose that the poor king exhiUts the proclamation for the killing of Gloucester. Cowden Clarke : That which Edgar would not believe tvithout witnessing is the extremity of pathos in the meeting between his blind father and the distracted ^ng. Deuus thinks it refers to Lear's condition.
139. is] Wright: Emphatic; as in Mdcb. I, iii, 141.
142. the case] Jennens : Having lost my eyes, would you have me read with the sockets. Steevens: That is, the socket of either eye. So in IVint. Tale, V, ii, 14: 'tear the cases of their eyes.' Malone: Also in Per. V, i, 112: «her eyes as jewel-like and cased as richly,' and lb. Ill, ii, 99 : ' her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels.' « This case of eyes' could not have been Shakespeare's phrase, because, in the language of that day, it would mean < this pair of eyes,' a sense directly opposite to that intended to be conveyed. White: But still I must regard Rowe's reading (>. e. with such a pair of eyes as thb, t. e. none at all) as being the true text
143. are you there with me ?] Wright: That is, b that what you mean? So in As You Like It, V, ii, 32: *0h, I know where you are;' i.e. what you mean. [Compare * take me with you,' Horn. 6* JhL III, ▼,.140.]
282 KING LEAR [act iv, sc vl
Glou. I see it feelingly. 147
Lear. What, art mad ? A man may see how this world goes with no eyes. Look with thine ears ; see how yond justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in thine ear; 150 change places, and, handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar?
Glau. Ay, sir.
Lear. And the creature run from the cur? There thou 155 mightst behold the great image of authority ; a dog's obeyed in office. —
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand I Why dost thou lash that whore ? Strip thine own back ; Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind 160
148. ikis\ the Qq. 154. Ay,^ I QqF.F.. Om. F,F^.
149. tkin€\ thy Qq. '55-172. Prose, QqFf.
149, 150. yoHd„.yon(t\ yoH,.„yon Qq. 1 56. dog '/ obeyed] dogge^fo btuU Q^
yoiC Cap. Slecv. Ec. Var. Knt, Sing. dt^e, fo bad Q,.
150. thini\ thy Qq. 158-161. As in Pope,
151. change places^ and] Om. Qq. 159. thine'] thy Ff+. handy-dand/jhandytdandytO^. 160. Thou hot/y lusts] Ff,Sch. thy
kandy-dendy F,. bloud hotly lufts Qq {blood QJ. Thou
151, 152. /ustice.,.Jhtef] therfe„.luS' hotly lust'st Rowe et cet. AVvQq.
147. feelingly] Moberly: In an inward and heartfelt way. Lear takes the word to mean ' only by feeling as I have no eyes.' 'What do you want with eytsf he rejoins, < to know how the world goes ?'
151. handy-dandy] Malone: This is a play among children, in which some- thing is shaken between the hands, and then a guess is made in which hand it is retained. See Florio : * Basxicchiare. To shake betweene two hands, to play handy- dandy.' Coles (Latin Diet,t 1679) renders < to play handy-dandy,' by digitis mieare; and he is followed by Ainsworth ; but they appear to have been mistaken, as b Dr Johnson in his definition, in his Dictionary, which seems to have been formed on the passage before us, misunderstood. He says. Handy-dandy is *a play in which chil- dren change hands and places.' Douce : This explanation is confirmed by the fol- lowing extract from A free discourse touching the murmurers of the tymes, MS : * They • . . play with your majestie as men play with little children at handye dandye, which hand will yon have, when they are disposed to keep any thinge from them.' Halxjwell says this is one of the oldest games in existence, not only alluded to by Piers Plowman, but, according to Pope in his Metnoirs of Martinus Scriblerus^ by Plato. ' Sometimes the game is played by a sort of sleight of hand, changing the article rapidly from one hand to another. • • . This is what Sh. alludes to by changing pUces.'
160. lusts] This is an instance cited by Walker (CnV.ji, 128) of the substita* tion in the Folio of x for st in Ihe second person' singular of the verb, * Queere^
ACT IV, sc. vij KING LEAR 283
For which thou whip'st her. — The usurer hangs the cozener. 161
Through tatter'd clc^es great vices do appear ;
Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate 3in with gold.
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ;
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it 165
None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em;
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
To seal th' accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes.
And, like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not. — ^Now, now, now, now. 170
Pull off my boots ; harder, harder, so.
161. co%enir\ cofiomr Q.. Han. Cap. Sch.
162-170. As in Rowe. 165. in rapl wlik ragi Jen* (? mls-
162. ThnmgKl Thorough Ff, Rowe. print).
taUer^d^ tottered <i^. tattered a\andV^omt.
Q^Sdu and tatter'd/Ff^. dois]ddiT^, doth7JF^-¥tJoi.
clothes] raggs Q.. ragges Q«. Steer. Var. Knt, Coll. Sing.
greaf[ Ff, Rowe, Sch. /mat Qg. 166. offend^ none,] offend, Han.
/mall Q^ et cet able] absolve Han.
1^2. Jurr'd gowns] furd'gownes Q<\, 170,171. To„ao.] Cap. Nom.,M,
hide] hides Qq. One line. Pope ii -h , Jen.Wr. ; prose, Cam.
1 63-1 68. Flate„.lips,] Om. Qq. Now, nokf, now, ttow] no now Q^.
163. Plate] Theob. ii. Place Ff. No, now Q,.
sin] Theob. ii. Jtnnes F,F^ 171. harder, harder] fuB harder,
finns Fy fins F^, Rowe, Pope, Theob. i, harder Ktly.
asks Walxxr, < in cases where st would produce extreme harshness, and where at the same time the old copies have s, whether we ought not to write the latter. (In the north of England, and in Scotland (see, for example. Bums, passim), s for // in the second person seems to be the rule.)' [To return to the usage of the QqFf in this instance b hardly more violent than to adopt it in place of its. Can harshness farther go than in < hotly lust'st to' ? I regret that I did not soften « line corresponds ingly harsh in modem editions, and print in Nam, I, ii, 53 : ' Revisits thus the glimpses of 'the moon.' — ^Ed.]
162. great yices] I cannot but think that the Ff are right here, and that the meaning is, * When looked at through tattered clothes, all vices are great.' — ^Ed.
163. hide all] Malonb: In R, of L., 93, * Hiding base sin in plaits of majesty.' 163. Plate] CowDEN Claeke: That is, clothe in plate armour.
163. sin] Sins of the Ff is to be preferred, were it not for the 'it' in line 165.— Ed.
166. X 11 able em] Warbu&ton : I '11 qualify or uphold them. So Scogan, con- temporary with Chaucer: 'Set all my life after thyne ordinaunce And able me to mercie or thou deme.' Heath : I will take off all legal disabilities which they may have incurred by their crimes. Stbevsns : Chapman's Widcvfs Tears : ' Admitted I Ay, into her heart, and I'll able it.' Again, in his version of the Jliad, xxiii t ' 111 able this For five revolved years.'
284 KING LEAR [act iv. sa vl
I Edg. \Asul[e^ Oh, matter and impertinency mix'd ! 173
Reason in madness I
Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. I know thee well enough ; thy name is Gloucester. 175
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither. Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee; mark.
Glau. Alack, alack the day I
Lear. When we are bom, we cry that we are come 180
To this great stage of fools. This ' a good block,
172,173. Oh.,.nuuiniss r\ One line 178. mari( J Ff,Knt,Dyce,Glo.+,Sciu
Qq. As • Aside/ Cap. Dyce ii, Huds. mark — Rowe+. marke me, Qq ct cct
172. impertinency mijfdl'X impertin^ l8l. This^ a good block ^^xTLf^Ja^Tyj^^
incy mixi, Ff. impertinencie mixi Q,. Glo. Wr. {block t Sing ii). this a good
impertinency^ mixt Q^. blocke, Qq. This a good blocke: F,F,.
174-206. Prose, in Qq. This a good block: F^F^, Sch. Thii a
l'J4. /ortnnesj/orinne Qq. good block l^ Rowe+, Ec. Knt, Del.
177. knau^st} knoweft Q., Sch. Sta.KtIy. This a good block f QsL^.'itTu
178. wavtr/] wawli F£, wayl Q^, Steer. '78, Var. CoU. i. This* s a good Wttiie Q., Cap. block. Oun. ThisM good plot CoU. iiu
^72. impertinency] Doucb: That is, something not belonging to the subject. Thtts >an. old collection of domestic recipes, ftc, entitled The irecuurie of com* mocKoms conceits^ 1594, is said to be * not impertinent for every good huswife to use In her house amongst her own familie.* This word does not seem to have been used in the sense of rude or unmannerly till the middle of the seventeenth century, nor in that of saucy till a considerable time afterwards.
178. wawl] Wright: Cotgravehas: *Ho(laller. Toyawle,wawle,orciy out aloud.'
181. This '] Walxsr ( Vers. 80) : This is b not unfrequently,^like that is, &c.-« contracted into a monosyllable. See Lear, V, iii, 283 ; Tam. Skr. I, ii, 45, * Why this ' a heavy chance 'twixt him and you.* Wright : See Meets, for Meas. V, t, 13 1, «this' a good Fiyer belike.* See Abbott, §461; also II, ii, 1x6, of this play. RrrsoN needlessly suggested '*Tis.*
i8i. block] Johnson would read < a good fock; that is, a flock of wooL * Lear picks up ayt^^, and immediately thinks to surprise his enemies by a troop of hone shod iK^ flocks or fett^ Yet * block ' may stand, if We suppose that the sight of a block put him in mind of mounting his horse. Capell : The mode of Lear's mad- ness is chang'd ; it is calm, and shews some sparks of reason ; he knows Gloucesteri and his condition; tells him he must be patient; • • • says he will * preach' to him| upon this he puts himself in posture of one who would preach, and pulls off his hat : Scarce has he utter'd a few words when some fumes of a wilder nature fly up; the hat catbhes his eye, and seti fire to another train of ideas; the words * This a good block?* are ^fxike looking upon the hat; and this ts follow'd by a second conceit, which has it's rise firom the same circumstance, about * felt/ and the use it might be put fo. SrtBTENS: *Block' anciently signified the head part of the hat, or the dttB^ 00 which a hat is fonned, and sometimes the hat itselC T^vsk Muek Ad9^\^\^
Acriv,sc.vi.] KING LEAR 285
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe 182
A troop of horse with felt I '11 put 't in proof;
182. ihoe\ jkoo F,. ^frooe F,F,F^. 183. Pli,.. proof/] Om. Qq.
ikoot Qq. suit Anon.* put V] put it Cap. Stccv. Ec
183. /elf\ feU Qq. Var. Knt, CoU. DcL i. Sing. Wh. KUy.
75 : * He wean his faith but as the fashion of his hat : it ever changes with the next block.' Again, in Beau, and Fl. WU at Several Weapom [IV, i] : < I am so haunted with this broad brim'd hat Of the last progress block, with the young hatband.' Again, XviThe Two Merry ARlkmaids^ 1620: <— my haberdasher has a new blocks and will find me and all my generation in beavers,* &c. Again, in Decker's CuVs Hornbook, 1 609: < — that cannot observe the time of his hatband, nor know what fashioned block is most kin to his head ; for in my opinion, the braine that cannot chuse his felt well,' &c. Again, in The Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, by Decker, 1606 : * —The biocke for his. head alters faster than the felt-maker can fitte him.' To the same effect Rushton {Euphuism^ p. 52) cites instances from Lily's Euphues. COLUE& : ' Block ' implies that Lear is referring to the shape of his hat, when ho probably had none upon his head, being, as we are told, < fantastically dressed with straw and wild flowers.' Few things can be clearer than that 'block' was mis- heard for plot as it stands in the (MS), and that the 'good plot* was to shoe, &c. [Capell's explanation is, to me, scarcely satisfactory, although it is adopted by every editor but Collier, and is amply supported, as far as the peculiar use of the word * block ^ is concerned, by Steevens's and Rushton's citations. The image of that dis- traught head covered by a felt hat is not pleasing, to say the least. I can offer nothing better, unless it be that * block ' is used in its ordinary sense, and that Lear mounts one to deliver his preachment from. Since writing this I have found the fol- lowing in TiECK (iii, 241) : ' Brockmann at these words mounted the stump of a tree.' For this Tieck finds fault with him ; < the action was neither necessary nor did it impart any beauty to the passage. Schr&der afterwards, on the same stage in AHenna, represented himself so weak and worn out that he could not raise his trem- bling foot high enough to mount upon the stump ; this he did apparently to show that his predecessor had acted what was not true to nature.' Tieck adds, that ' Schroder, with his keen intelligence, would probably confess in cooler moments that he was even more sophistical than Brockmann; an old man who was as weak as this could certainly not have stormed about the open fields, and made his pursuers run hard to catch him.' In Edwin Booth's Prompt Book there is here the stage-direc-l tion : ' Lear takes Curan's hat.' This is certainly better than to suppose that he tookl his own.-:— Ed.] |
183. felt] Steevzns : This stratagem might have been adopted from the following passage in Fenton's Tragicall Discourses, 1 567: « — ^he attyreth himselfe for the pur- pose in a night gowne girt to hym, with a paire of shoes o{ felt, Leaste the noyse of his feete shoulde discover his goinge.' Malone : This ' delicate stratagem' had ac- tually been put in practice fif^ years before Sh. was bom, as we learn from Lord Herbert's Life of Henry tke Eighth, p. 41 : ' the ladye Margaret, . . . caused there a juste to be held in an extraordinary manner; the place being a fore-room raised high from the ground by many steps, and paved with black square stones like marble; while the horses, to prevent sliding, were shod with felt or flocks (the Latin words Utfeltro Hvi tomento) : after which the ladies danced all night.'
286 KING LEAR [act iv, sc ▼!.
And when I have stoFn upon these sons-in-law.
Then, kiU, kill, kiU, kill, kill, kill 1 185
Enter a Gentleman, wth Attendants.
Gent. Oh, here he is ; lay hand upon him. — ^Sir. Your most dear daughter —
Lear. No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even The natural fool of fortune. Use me well ; You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons ; 190
I am cut to th' brains.
Gent. You shall have anything.
Lear. No seconds ? all myself?
184. / have\ Pve Pope+, Dyce ii, i86. him. 53Rr,] Johns, kim^rs, Q,. Unds. kimfirt, Q^ him: sir^ Rowe. kUm^
ftoVnlftole Qq. , .Sir. Ff.
som^in^lawl fonne in lawes Q,. 187. Your..,itattgkter-^'\Om,(i^, your
fomut in law Q^ Soh in Lowes F,, mosi deere {itaAmg O^Jeere as one line)
Rowe, Cap. Sonna in Lawes F,. Scms Q.. Iff Laws Fy SoHS'tn-Laws F^. 188. even] eem Qq.
185. Enter..«Attendants.] Rowe. En- 190. ransom] a ranfom (^
ter three Gentlemen. Qq. EnteraGen^ surgeons] Ff-»-, Knt, Dyce t,
tleman. Ff. Enter Gentleman, and At- Sta. Glo. Wr. Scfa. a ehurgion Q^. a
tendants of Cordelia; and Guard. Cap. Ckirurgeon Q,. a surgeon Cap. et cet
186. Scene vixi. Pope+, Jen. 191. Iam'\ Pm Hads. hanii'\ hands Qq, Jen. io M'] to the Q,.
185. kill, IdU] Malone: This was formerly the word given in the English anny when an onset was made. So in Ven, &* Ad, 652: <in a peaceful hour doth 07 << kill, kiU." ' Again, in The Mirrourfor Magistrates^ 1610, p. 315 : ' Our English- men came boldly forth at night, Crying Saint George^ Salisbury^ kill, kill.'
189. fool of fortune] Steevens : Compare < I am fortune's fool,' Rom, 6* JuL III, i, 129. Walker {Crit. ii, 309} : Here < natural fool ' means one bom to be the sport of fortune. Bacon speaks of ' natural Spaniards,' t. e, native. M assinger, in The Renegado, II, iv, has < a natural Venetian.'
191. cut to th' brains] Cowden Clarke: This, one of the most powerfully, yet briefly expressed, utterances of mingled bodily pain and consctousness of mental in- firmity ever penned, is not the only subtle indication in this scene that Lear not merely feels himself to be insane, but also feeb acute physical suffering. * I am not ague-proof tells how severely shaken his poor old frame has been by exposure through- out that tempestuous night; 'pull off my boots; harder, harder,' gives evidence of a sensation of pressure and impeded circulation in the feet, so closely connected with injury to the brain; and < I am cut to the brains' conveys the impression of wounded writhing within the head, that touches us with deepest sympathy. Yet, at the same time, there are the gay irrationality and the incoherency that mark this ttage of mania.
ACT IV, sc. vL] KING LEAR 287
Why, this would make a man a man of salt, 193
To use his eyes for garden water-pots,
* Ay, and laying autumn's dust 195
* Gent Good sir, — *
Lear. I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What ! I will be jovial. Come, come ; I am a king. My masters, know you that?
Gent. You are a royal one, and we obey you. 200
Lear. Then there 's life in 't Come, and you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa.
\Exit running; Attendants follow.
Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch. Past speaking of in a king ! Thou hast one daughter. Who redeems nature from the general curse 205
Which twain have brought her to.
Edg. Hail, gentle sin
Gent. Sir, speed you ; what's your will ?
193. a man a man] a man Qq. Han. Warb. king: masters Sch.
194.199. 7b.../>itf/] As in Jen. Three 199. thatf] that, Q., Dyce, Glo.+*
lines, ending brauily„Jouiall :„.Jhat f tkattStai. Huds. Ff +, Cap. {Come, come separate line, 201, 202. TAen„ja,] Two lines, the
Cap.) find ending get it,F{+.
195, 196. j4y„Mr] Om. Ff, Rowe. 201. Come, and} Ff, Rowe, Sch,
ig$, j4y,and'\/andQ<i, jlndFope-hf Come, an Pope, Theob. Han. Warb.
Cap. ^y, and for Steev. Bos. Knt, CoU, Knt, Sing. Come, atC Johns, nay and
196. Gent. Good sir] Om Q,, Pope+, Q,. nay i/Q^, Nay, come, an Jen. Ec. Cap. Nay, ^Glo.+. Nay, an Cap. et cet.
197-X99. L.Jhai/} Two and a half 202. by"] ttnth Qq, Cap. Jen. Glo. Wr.
lines, ending ^rav^(y../^a/...M<i//ColL Sa, sa, sa, sa."] Om. Qq.
Del. Wh. KUy. [Exit...] Exit, running; Attend-
197. smugl Om. Qq, Jen. Steev. Ec ants and Guard follow. Cap. Exit King Var. Sta. Glo. running Qq. Exit. Ff.
198. 199. king. My masters'] King, 204. one] a Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. Majlers F,. King. Majlers F,F,F^, Knt, Sch.
Rowe. king. My masters Pope, Theob. 206. kave] hath Qq. had Anon.*
193. salt] Malone: That is, a man of tears. Wright: Compare Chapman, Widffufs Tears, IV, i : 'He not torn Salt-peeter in this vault for neuer a mans com- panie lining.'
201. life in 't] Johnson : The case is not yet desperate.
202* Sa, sa] B0SWEI.L : Does not this seem to prove that ' Sessa,' III, iv, 96, means the very reverse of cesse% t Hudson : It is probably meant to express Lear's panting as he runs. Stark (Eine psychiairische Sh.-Studie, p. 80) interprets this as singing, and says : * Lear skips away carolling and dancing.'
288 KING LEAR [activ,sc. vL
Edg. Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? 208
Gent Most sure and vulgar; every one hears that, Which can distinguish sound.
Edg, But, by your favour, 210
How near 's the other army ?
Gent. Near and on speedy foot; the main descry Stands on the hourly thought
Edg. I thank you, sir; that's all.
Gent Though that the queen on special cause is here, Her army is moved on.
Edg. I thank you, sir. {Exit Gent. 215
Glau. You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me ; Let not my worser spirit tempt me again To die before you please 1
Edg. Well pray you, father.
Glou. Now, good sir, what are you ?
Edg. A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows ; 220
208. au^A/"] Theob. ii. «(f-4/ QqFf. /orW Q,.
sir,"] Om. Qq. 212. dfscfy] defcryts Q,. dtf cries Q^
209. 210. Most,„Jound.'\ As in Q.* 213. Stattds] Siandft Q.. The first line ends keares^^^\ at vulgar^ thought] thoughts Qq.
Ff, Rowe. • that^s ail] Om. Pope, Han.
209. w/] ones Q,. 215. Ifer] Hir Q,. His Q,. hears that] her^s that ^. heares Edg. /...jtV.] Om. Pope, Han.
That Q,. [Exit Gent.] Johns. Exit Qq.
210. lVhich,.^ound] That.„/ence Q,. Exit, (after on), Ff. That,,.fen/e Q,. 2l6. ever-gentie] Hyphen, Cap.
210.211. ^«r/...ar0fy/] One line, Qq. 218. IVeil pray] Weii, pray Q^^
212. speedy foot] /peed fort Q,. /peed 220. tame to] lame by Qq, Mai. Bos.
209. vulgar] Compare Ham. I, ii, 99 : ' any the most vulgar thing to sense.* 212, 213. main desciy • . . thought] Johnson: The main body is expected to
be descried every hour. The expression is harsh. Staunton : The expression is
as harsh and disagreeable as the speaker's 'Most sure and vulgar' just before.
Moberly: The substantive 'descry' is like 'more impediments than twenty times
your stop,' 0th. V, ii, 263.
213. that '8 all] Both Jennsns and Ths Cambridge Editors note these words as omitted in Q,, the ' N. Butter' Quarto. They are present in my copy, in Stesyens's Reprint, and in Askbeb's Facsimile. I note this simply as an indication of the dif* ferences in different copies of the same edition. — Ed.
2x4. Though that] See Macb. IV, iii, xo6: Abbott, S287.
2i8. lather] Hudson : As this was a customary address from the young to the old, Edgar keeps addressing Gloucester so without being recognized as his son.
220. uxne] Malonb adhered to the text of the Qq, because of the parallelism with 5;9ii..xxxvii: ' So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spighL'
ACT IV, sa vl] KING LEAR 289
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, 221
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, I'll lead you to some biding.
Glou. Hearty thanks ;
The bounty and the benison of heaven To boot, and boot 1
Enter Oswald.
Osw. A proclaim'd prize I Most happy I 22$
That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh To raise my fortunes. — ^Thou old unhappy traitor. Briefly thyself remember; the sword is out That must destroy thee.
Glou. Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to 't
Osw. Wherefore, bold peasant, 230
221. kmmotC^ kncwing Haxu Ktly. 225, &c. Osw.] Stew. QqFf.
223-225. Hearty, »booi r^ Prose, Qq. 225-233. A,„arm,'\ Prose, Qq.
224,225. The bounty boQtr\ One 225. ^ox/] Mi> tr m(»x/ Han.
line, Pope, Jen. happy r\ happy,<^^. happy :^
224. bounty'\ bomet Q,. happie F,, happy: F,FjF^. the bentson"] beniM Q,. 226. Jirs/] Om. Q,.
225. To boot, and boot} to faue thee ^ri* Thou] Om. Pope+. Q,. to boot, to boot Q,. to boot Pope, old] moft Qq. Han. Jen. (To boot Han., as a separate 229. JVow] Om. Pope+«
line.) 230. to*t] QqF F^, Jen. GI0.+, Scb.
Enter Oswald.] Coll. Enter too * t F^F^. toittizn, etctL Steward. QqFf. Edgar opposes.] Johns. Edgar
Scene ix. Pope + , Jen. interposes. Coll.
221. known and feeling] Warburton: Sorrows past and present Malonbi I doubt whether /v/iVf^ is not used for felt. Sorrows known, not by relation, but by experience. Eccles : * Feeling sorrows ' are such as, by awakening sympathy, make us feel for others. Cowden Clarke: ' Feeling' b here used in both senses of 'personally felt' and 'deeply moving.' Compare Wtnt. Tale, IV, ii, 8: 'To whose feeling sorrows I might be some a]lay.' Abbott, S 372, seems to adopt Malone's view; he explains 'Feeling' as 'known,' passively, 'known and realised sorrows.' Schmidt: ' Feeling' is here not a participle but a gerund, and 'feeling sorrows' is equivalent to heartfelt sorrows. It is essentially the same gerund as in dying speech, writing book, washing tub, &c.
222. pregnant] Schmidt : Disposed, prompt, ready. [See II, 1, 76.]
228. remember] Warburton: Recollect the past offences of thy life and recom.* mend thyself to heaven.
229, 230. Now . • • to 't] CowDSN Clarke understands this as a call to Edgar to defend him. With all deference I cannot but think that it is addressed to Oswald, begging him to put strength enough to his destroying sword to make sore work with IL— Ed.
25 T
^90 KING LEAR [Acxiv.sa^
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor ? Hence ! 231
Lest that th' infcdion of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. Edg. Chill not let go, zir, without vurtfaer 'casion. Onv. Let zo^ slave, or thou diest I 235
Edg. Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk
pass. And' chud ha' bin zwagger'd out of my Itfe, 'twould
not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight Nay, come not
231. Z>tfr'//] durjl Q,. darjt Q^ Qq, Sch. a» a*iM/ Cap. Wh. an chad DarJlYfJ^^. Pycc,Glo.+, ondtk'ud^tKw.fHtxX.
232. thai /A*} thai Knt 237, 238. Ao* Hn\ F,F,F^ Aaue beau />ia<] Om. Qq, Cap. Qq. kt^ heenV^.
233, 234. Lik€..Mofi One line. Cap. 237. xwagga^d'\ twaggtrd F,. /way.
234. C«£a..VtfW«i.] Two lines, Ff. g^dQ^, noaggar'dQ^ twagged ¥^
«>] A Qq- ^A-
fWfrJl/r]Om.Qq. JurtAirJau ^twtmWlU would Q^ itwMQ^
vartJUr Coll. 238. nai ka^^ luf F,F^. Uasuni\ cagum Qq. *o\/o Q,.
236. and^ Om. Qq. « '^3 Om. Qq. V0lk\vokeQ^ voiieQJJP^ vcrtmigki\fortnigktCi^.
237. jlf$d'cAttd'i¥U,JetL andehid
234. CbiUf ftc.] Steevxns : When our ancient writers introdace a rustic tbef commonly allot him tins Somersetshire dialect Mercury, in the second book of Orid's MiiatMrpkoses^ assumes the appearance of a clown, and Golding has made Uffl speak with the provinciality of Shakespeare's Edgar [p. 26, < And I chill gethee ¥or thy paine an Hecfar an hir match.' The pleonastic < I chill ' is probably an over- sight on Golding's part ; a line or two farther on there is no ' I ' before ' Cham sure.* Capell's spelling cKitt^ and cKud in line 237, is probably the most correct, but, in a matter so trifling and so vague, we might as well follow the Ff, even in their mis- spellings. I have, therefore, printed 'bin» and • whither,* which may be, in reality^ indications of the pronunciation.— Ed.] Ellis (£. E. PronunciaHm^ p. 293): The contractions cham^ chas^ chil (tsham, tshas, tshfl) for ich am, ich was, ich will, are mentioned by Gill (Logonomia, p. 17) as a Southern pronunciation, in Rev. W. Barnes's edition of the Glouary of the Dialed of Forth and Bargy, and in the Glossary to his Poems in the Dorset dialect, 1858, p. 150. The dialectic pronun- ciations Ise^ Uh are preserved [here in Lear\. About thirty years ago uichy was in use for / In the eastern border of Devonshire and in Dorset, and examples of eham^ ehould — I am, I would, occur in the Exmoor Scolding, which dates from the beginning of the last century. Wright : I will, contracted from « ich will,' just as * chud ' is for < ich would ' or ' ich should.' In Grose's Provincial Glossary * chell ' is said to be used for < I shall ' in Somerset and Devon, and < cham' for « I am' in Somerset In Whetstone's Promos and Cassandra we find < cham,' <chy,' <chane,' -chul.'
236. gait] Stebvens : In the last rebellion, when the Scotch soldiers had finished their exercise, instead of our term of dismission, their phrase was ' gang your gaits.*
ACT IV, sc. vL] KING LEAR 29 ^
near th' old man; keep out, che vor* ye, or ice try whither your costard or my hallow be the harder; chill be plain 240 with you.
Osw. Out, dunghill! \They fight.
Edg. Chill pick your teeth, zir; come; no matter vor your foins.
Osw. Slave, thou hast slain me. Villain, take my purse ; 245 If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body ; And give the letters which thou find'st about me To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out
239. M'] the Qq. 240. chiir\ Ue Q,.
che vor^ ye^ cheuore ye Qq. chi 242. [They fight.] Qq. Om. Ff.
•wr//^Cap. 243. ChUl\ Child Y^.
iV^]Ff+»Jen. iZfQq. uCap. Clfti//...r0m^] One line, Cap.
he or Ue Johns, et cet. tir^fir Q,.
whi/her] Ff. whether Qq et cet var\ far Qq.
240. costardi cqfter Q^. 244. [Edgar knocks him down. Rowe. ballow] bat Q,, Pope + , Cap. Jen. Oswald falls. Cam.
Steev. Ec. Var. batteroCl^. 248,249. 7b...M«/£j»M] One line, Qq.
239. che vor' ye] Johnson : I warn you. Wright : Capell quotes from an old comedy called The Contention between Liberality and Prodigality (1602) : ' Yoo by gisse sir tis high time che vore ye Cham averd another will ha'te afore me.'
239. ice] Abbott, $§315, 461 : Provincial for < I shall.' Deuus reads < ise,' and considers it equivalent to else. Wright : In Somersetshire west of the Parret, ' Ise ' is used still for ' I,' and pronounced like < ice.'
240. costard] The name of an apple, and hence, according to Gifford (Note on the Alchemist^ IV, i), humourously applied to the head. Whence ' coster-monger.'
240. ballow] Knight: Grose {Provincial Gloss,) gives 'Jiis as a North-country word ioTpole. Collier : Balo means a beam in Norfolk. JBattero of Q. is perhaps a corruption of the true word, as it is in the Folio.
244. foins] Dyce (Gloss,): Pushes, thrusts. Cotgrave: *Estoquer. To thrust, or foyne at.'
247. letters] Here, and in line 255, Mr Smith thinks we should read letter, be- cause only one letter is produced and read. ' Had there been one from Regan too, the audience no doubt should have heard it as well as GoneriPs.' See IV, v, 33. [EccLES, Malone, and The Cambridge Editors attribute this note to < Mr Smith;* it is found in Grey's Notes, &c., vol. ii, p. 114, and, although it is not always perfectly clear where Grey's own notes end, and *Mr Smith's' notes, that he quotes, begin, yet I think that they are correct in this instance. When I compiled the note on IV, v, 33« I thought that to * Mr Smith' belonged only the note on ' undistinguish*d space of woman's will,' and that what I have quoted above was Grey's. * Mr Smith of Harleston in Norfolk' Grey pronounces <the most friendly and communicative man living,' and adds, that he was * greatly assistant to Sir Thomas Hanmer in his edition of Shakespeare.' — Ed.] Malone shows that * letters ' was used like epistola, when only one was intended. In I, v, i, Lear tells Kent to go before with these 'letters,' and Kent replies that he would deliver the * letter.'
202 KING LEAR [act iv, sa vL
Upon the English party. Oh, untimely death I
Death I \pies. 250
Edg* I know thee well ; a serviceable villain, As duteous to the vices of thy mistress As badness would desire.
Ghu. What,ished6ad?
Edg. Sit you down, &ther; rest you. — Let's see these pockets ; the letters that he speaks of 25;
May be my friends. He's dead ; I am only sorry He had no other deathsman« Let us see. Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not To know our enemies' minds, we rip their hearts; Their papers, is more lawful. 260
{Reads\ Let our reciprocal vows be remembered You have
249. upon the English^ CJj^ the 254. [seating him at a Distance. Cap. Britijh Qq, Cap. Jen. Mai. Steer. Bos. 255. thescJhe] Ff +,Cap. Knt,Dyce Coll. Sing. Sta. Wh. Ktly, Glo. •¥. On i, Glo. + , Sch. his„Jhe/e Qq et cet. M' English Han. 256. Iam\ Pm Pope +» Jen. Dyce ii,
249, 250. l^on..Jeath /] As two half- Huds.
lines, Cap. sorry^ forrow Q,.
death I Death f\ Cam. Wr. 258. Leave'] By your leave Rowe-h.
4ieath I death, Qq. deaths death, Ff. manners^ blame] manners blame
death, death-^ Rowe. death,-^ Pope, Qq. manners: blame Ff. manners-^
Han. death t^^eath I Jen. death I blame Rowe. manners. Blame Johns.
Theob. et cet. 258, 259. not. To] not To Q,Ff. not,
250. [Dies.] He dies. Qq (subs.). r<?Q^Rowe. not: 71? Pope et cet. Om. Ff. 259. we] Ff +, Coll. Del. Sta. Wh.
252, 253. As duteous,„desire,] One we^d Qq. w^ld Cap. et ceL line, Q,. 260. is] are F,FjF^+.
254-258. Four lines, ending pochets, 261. [Reads] Reads the Letter. Ff.
.„friends,„Aeathfman,„not^ Qq, Jen. Letter. Q,. Om. Q,«
2S4, 2$$. yoM.—'Lefs] you lets Q.. 261-267. Seven lines, in italics, Q,.
you, lets Q,. 261. our] your Qq.
249. English] See III, iv, 176. Knight : This slight difference between the Qq and Ff proves one of two things : Either that upon the publication of the Folio the distinction between British and English, which was meant as a mark of compliment to James, had ceased to be regarded; or that the passage, having been written before his accession, had not been changed in the copy from which the Folio was printed, as it was changed in the copy of the play acted before the king in 1606. White: * English ' b a sophistication doubtless. Sh. must have known well enough that in Lear's time there were no more Englishmen in Britain than in America. [See Ap« pendix, p. 379.]
252. duteous] Schmidt i Constantly in Sh. equivalent to obsequious, obedient.
257. deathsman] Schmidt: Edgar is sorry that he anticipated the hangman.
260. Their . . . lawful] M alone: The construction is: To rip their papers is more lawful. [See Abbott, 55 337» 395. and IV, ii, 11.]
ACTiv,savL] KING LEAR 293
many opportunities to cut him off; if your wUl want not^ lime 262 and place will be fruitfully offered. There is nothing done^ if he return the conqueror; then am I the prisoner^ and his bed my gaol; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and 26$ supply the place for your labour.
Your— wife, so I would say — affectionate servant,
GONSJUL.
O indistinguish'd space of woman's will !
263. done^ i/2 done, TfQ^, done: If say) 6* your Q^ Cap. MaL Steer. Ec. Q^ done, ^Ff, Rowe. Bos.
264. eonfueror; then"] conqner&ur, 267. servani^seruantandforyouktr then QqFf. conqueror. Then Pope+, ownefor Venter, Q,.
Jen. 269. O] OMF^. 0/FJFJ^^.
265. ^aot] Gaole F,. GoaU F^ Goat indiiHnguisK d^ F^, Rowe, Wr. F,. gaylt^. /<»y*Q.« Sch. Indiftingm/ht <^. vndiftingmflU
266. foryourl of our F,Fj, Rowe. Q,. indingmflCd F F,Fj. undistin*
267. — wife..jay — ] In parentheses, guisJCd Pope et cet. '
Ff. wife {Jb„ jay) your Q^, wife{fo,.* wiH} wit Qq, Tope.
263. fruitfully] Wright: Fully, plentifully. See AWs Weii, II, ii, 73: 'Qmnt. You understand me? Clo. Most fruitfully.' But this, in the mouth of the Qown, may have been an intentional blunder.
267. servant] White : Are we to conclude from [the text of Q,] that Goneril makes an allusion to what Mr Weller would call her second wenter, or, stUl more prospectively, uses a technical term better suited to the lips of Sergeant Busfinf
267. MiTFORD {Gent, Mag. p. 469, XS44) says that < and for you her owne for Venter' of Q, is only a corruption of and youre ownefor ever.
269. space] Theobald in his correspondence with Warburton (Nichols's lUus. ii, 382), asks : < Does [< space '] mean, What a scope more than we can discover, do women give themselves in pursuits of vice ! ' This conjecture was not repeated in his edition. Singer [Sh. Vindicated, &c. p. 275) suggests *'* undisguised scope of woman's will." If we adopt wit of the Qq, we might read ** undisguised scape of woman's wit." ' Whereupon Dyce (ed. i) remarks : * Mr Singer offers a brace of conjectures, which I must take the liberty of saying he ought to have suppressed.' The * brace ' failed to appear in Singer's subsequent edition. Voss conjectures pace, that is, ' How trifling, insignificant, is the step between a woman's different wills 1 ' Bailey (i, no) thinks *we have only to reflect on what a man in Edgar's position would be likely to say in order to arrive at the right reading.' This simple process leads Bailey to the belief that maze is the true word here.
269. Theobald: The reading [of the Ff : «will,' instead o^wit of the Qq] gives us, as Mr Warburton observes to me, a most elegant Expression and most satirical Thought ; more delicate than the ' varium et mutabile semper femina ' of Virgil. 'Tis not the Extravagance, but the Mutability, of a Woman's Will that is here satiriz*d. The Change of which (our Author would be understood to say,) is so speedy, that there is no Space of time, no Distance, between the present Will and the next; but it is an undistingtiish'd Space. This Sentiment may not be ill explain'd further from what honest Sancho, in Don Quixote, with infinite Humour says upon the subject.
as*
294 K^^O LEAR [act IV, sc. vl
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life ; 270
And the exchange, my brother ! — Here, in the sands,
Thee rifrake up, the post unsanftified
Of murderous lechers ; and in the mature time
271. in th€\ in rhe F,. € tfC Pope+, 273. ltchers\ trenchers Clarke.
Jen. the mature'\ mature Pope, Han.
272. the poi(\ thou post Ed. conj.
Entre eiSxy el No de la muger, no me atreveria yo d poner una punta d^Alfiler, Betwixt a Woman's Yea^ and No^ I wonld not undertake to thrust a Pin*s Point. Davxes :' A vicious woman sets no bounds to her appetites. Steevens : O undis- tinguishing licentiousness of a woman's inclinations ! Coluer : Here, according to the (MS), we have a remarkable proof of mishearing. . • • The fact is that * undis- tinguish'd' ought to be unextinguished^ and 'space' hla%e; thus taking *will' for disposition^ the clear intention of the poet is to make Edgar exclaim against the unextingttishable fire or blaze of the appetite of woman, as illustrated by the letter and conduct of Goneril. Dyce : * Undistinguish'd space ' means space whose limits are not to be distinguished. White: That is, 0, unmarked, boundless reach of woman's will! Hudson: * Undistinguish'd' for undistinguishable^ like 'unnum- bered ' for innumerable. Woman's will has no distinguishable bounds or no assign- able limits ; there is no telling what she will do or where she will stop. STAUifTON : Whatever may have been the original lection, it was plainly an exclamation against the indiscriminate caprice of woman as exhibited by Goneril in plotting against a virtuous husband's life merely to gain a villain like Edmund. We should perhaps read : * undistinguishable sense of woman's will.' Wright : So wide-reaching [is a woman's will] that its workings cannot be discovered. . . . Without calling in ques- tion the absolute truth of Sancho's profound observation [as quoted by Theobald], it is at least allowable to doubt the propriety of applying it in the present case. Edgar's astonishment is not at the fickleness and caprice of Goneril, but at the enormous wickedness of the plot which her letter revealed. Moberly: The passage may be a reminiscence of Horace's : ' Cum fas atque nefas ekiguo fine libidinum Discemunt avidi ' ( Odes, I, xviii), which Mr Wickham renders : * While in their greedy haste they divide right and wrong by the slender line of their own appetite j* i.e, 'when the only distinction which they place between right and wrong is, that they desire the thing or not.' So here Shakespeare's idea seems to be that a woman's will knows no limits between good and evil. Schmidt : That is, ' Oh undistinguishable range of the female appetite ! ' Edgar is astonished that a woman can be found to prefer Edmund to the noble Albany.
272. rake up] Johnson : I '11 cover thee. In Staffordshire to rake the fire is t«i cover it with fuel for the night. * So 'tis in New England.' — Hudson. Wright : See Heywood's Proverbs {Spenser Soc. ed., p. 48) : * We parted, and this within a daie or twayne, Was raakt vp in thashes, and coucrd agayne.'
272. unsanctifiod] Steevens: Referring to his lack of burial in consecrated ground. Schmidt: As 'sanctified' means hofy,%o ' unsanctified ' means /r^ii<, Vfiched.
273. .mature] Abbott, § 492 : Apparently the accent is ' m&tnre.' « This is lik* Mdture, but I know of no other instance of *' m&ture." '
ACT IV. sc vi.] KING LEAR 295
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-praftised duke. For him 'tis well 275
That of thy death and business I can tell.
Glou. The king is mad. How stiff is my vilde sense. That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distraft; So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs, 280
And woes by wrong imaginations lose The knowledge of themselves. {Drum afar off.
Edg. Give me your hand;
Far off) methinks, I hear the beaten drum ; Come, father, I '11 bestow you with a friend. \Exeunt
275. death'pra^Utd^ Hyphen, Ff. 282. [Re-enter Edgar. Cap.
276. My] his Q;. [Drum afar off.] A drum a farre [Exit Edgar, dragging out the off. Qq (subs.) Drum afarre off. (after
Body. Cap. Buries Oswald Wh. line 280), Ff+ Jen. After hand Dyce.
277. Two lines, Ff. 282, 283. Give.,Mrum ;"] One line, Q,* vilde] QJF^TJFy vildQ^,DeiA, 284. Gmr, father,'] Conn further.
Sch. vile F^ et cet. Johns.
280. severed] fenced Qq, Jen. [Exeunt.] Exit. Qq.
281. imaginations]ifnagination]ohxia»
275. death-practised] Johnson : The duke of Albany, whose death is machi- nated by practice,
278. ingenious] Warburton: That is, a feeling from an understanding not disturbed or disordered, but which, representing things as they are, makes the sense of pain the more exquisite. Singer : Bullokar gives, * Ingenious. Witty : quicke conceited,' f . e, acute. Schmidt : * Ingenious ' exactly corresponds to conscious,
279. distract] The -ed is omitted. See ffam. IV, v, 2.
296 KING LEAR [act iv. sc. vit
Scene VIL A tent in ike French camp. Lear on a bed asleep^ soft music playing; Gentleman, and otliersai' tending.
Enter Cordelia, Kent, and DoAor.
Cor. O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work, To match thy goodness? My life will be too short, And every measure fail me.
Kent. To be acknowledged, madam, is o'eipaid All my reports go with the modest truth, 5
Nor more nor clipp'd, but so.
Cor. Be better suited ;
These weeds are memories of those worser hours;
Scene vii.] Scsena Sepuma Ff (Scena tleman. Ff. Enter Cordelia and Kent FjF^). Scene vi. Rowe. Scene x. Cap.
P6pe+. 1-3. 0„„jne,'\ As in Kowe^ Two
A tent...camp.] Steev.» aftet Cap. lines, the first ending goodms, Q(. Three
A Chamber. Rowe. lines, ending JCent,„„goodneffef„„me, in
Lear...asleepj Steev., after Cap. Q,, Cap. Five lines, ending JCeni^,..
soft music playing,] Cap. conj., toorke^.goodneff'e K.Jhort,,.jnet Ff.
Dyce, Sta. GI0+. 2. My life\ Life Pope+.
Gentleman...] Glo, Physician^ 6-3. Be.,..off.'\ Two lines,, the first
Gentleman,... Cap. ending tho/e^ in Q,.
Enter...and Dodtor.] Enter..4uid Gen- Enter . • • Doctor] Malonb: In the Ff all the speeches are given to 'the Gen- tleman' which in the Qq are divided between ' the Physician^ and * Gentleman.' I suppose from a penury of actors it was found convenient to unite the two characters, which were originally distinct. Collier : It is singular that at this earlier date [of the Qq] the more expensive course [i . e, of having two actors, one for the Doctor and the other for the Gentleman] should have been. pursued.
3. measure] Johnson; All good which I shall allot thee, or measure ouf io thee» will be scanty. Becket (Concordance) : It here means effort, endeavour^
4. is o'erpaid] Eccles: Perhaps it should be readr ' V£r o*erpaid,' that is, 'in being acknowledged, it is overx>aid.' Abbott, S 395 : That is, ' is (to be) -o'erpaid.* See IV, ii, II.
5. modest] See II, iv, 24.
6. suited] Steevens : That is, be better dressed.
7. weeds] Wright : This dress. A. S. ?«!</, clothing. [PeCk {Memoirs of Milton, p. 228J: Sir James Melvil^(* Scots ambassador to Q. Elizabeth') says of that Queen's clothes: 'One day she had the English weed, another the French,' &c.]
7. memories] Steevens: Memorials. Compare 'O you memory Of old Sii Rowland,' As You Like It, II, iii, 3. Malone : Thus in Stowe's Survey, &c., 1618 * A printed memorie hanging up in a table at the entrance into the church door.?
ACT IV. sa vu.] KING LEAR 297
I prithee, put them off
Kent. Pardon, dear madam ; 8
Yet to be known shortens my made intent; My boon I make it, that you know me not 10
Till time and I think meet
Cor. Then be't so, my good lord. — How does the king?
Do^. Madam, sleeps still.
Cor. O you kind gods. Cure this great breach in his abused nature I 15
Th' untuned and jarring senses, oh, wind up Of this child-changed fiitherl
Dodl. So please your majesty
8. Pardon] Pardcn me Qqi Jen. Steev. Han. Warb. Cap.
Ec Var. CoU. DeL Sing. Wh« Ktly, 12. [To the Physician. Tfaeob.
GI0+. [Going towanls the Bed. Cap.
IX, 13. TUl,...jo'\ One line. Pope, 13, 17. Dodi] Gent. Ff.
Theob. Han. Warb. Tiil^.Jord. One 13. sleeps] he sleeps Ktly.
line, Rowe, Johns. Cap. Jen. Mai. Ktly. 14. Oyou kind] Kind Qa^.
Two lines, Ff. 14, 15. One line, Q,.
12. beU] beet Q,. ^/fVQ^Pope+, 16. and jarring] and Aurrying Qq.
Cap. Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Sing. Ktly. 17. ehild-ckanged] child changed Cl^
so, my good lord.-^ffow] fo my So please] Please Pope+.
good Lord: How Ff. fo^ my good majesty] Maiefty^ F^ Majefty*
Lord how Q, fo: my Lord how Q^ ^JFj^r
so. My lord, how Pope i. so Afy lord-^ 17, 18. So..Jting^f] One line, Qq. how Pope ii. so. My lord. — How Theob.
9. made intent] Warburton : There is a dissonancy in terms in * made intent' ; one implying the idea of a thing done ; the other, undone. I suppose Sh. wrote *laid intent,' t*. e. projected. [Thus Warburton's text.] Johnson : An intent made is an intent formed. So we say, in common language, to make a design, and to make a resolution. Collier: This is altered to *main intent' in the (MS); that is, my chief purpose. There can be no doubt of its fitness, since all that could be extracted from ' made intent ' was, that it was an intent formed, Kent says that he cannot change his dress, since he must, in that case, be known, which would defeat his chief purpose. [Thus Collier's text.] Staunton: Collier's (MS) proposes a very plausible change.
17. child-changed] Steevens : That is, changed to a child by his years and his wrongs; or, perhaps, reduced to this condition by hb children. Henley: Lear is become insane, and this is the change referred to. Insanity is not the property of second childhood, but dotage. Malone : Changed by his children. So care-crai^d^ wave-worn, &c. Delius conjectures that it may mean that he has exchanged chil* dren; that is, that he has left Regan and Goneril and come to Cordelia. HaIp LIWELL : A father changed by the conduct of his children. Cordelia offers the kind* ness of another child, to make restoration to what he was before he was altered by her sisters. Abbott, § 430^ adopts Steevens's view ; that is, ' changed to a child.'
[
I
298 iriNG LEAR [act IV, sc. vii.
k That we may wake the king? he hath slept long. 18
' Car, Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
[ I' th' sway of your own will. — Is he arra/d ? 20
I Genf. Ay, madam ; in the heaviness of ' sleep
\ We put fresh garments on him.
\ Dodi. Be by, good madam, when we do awake him ;
I doubt not of his temperance.
* Cor. Very well.
! * Doct. Please you, draw near. — Louder the music there I* 25
f 18. TKa(\ Om. Q,. Cap. Ec. Knt, Del. Dyce, Sta. Sch. of
k ifis^/ i^...A7»^.] Han. king^Ht iix^^ Qq et cet.
L .../0M^. Q,. King He,, Jang. Q^ King, 23. Dodl.] Cap. (subs.), Wh. GI0.+.
[ he,, Jong f Ff. Gent. Q,. Kent. Q^ Coll. Del. Sing.
\ 20. array d t] arayd, Q,. Ktly. Continued to Gent, or Phys. or
\ [Soft, music. Wh. Doct. Ff+, Jen. Sch.
I [Enter Lear in a chaire carried Beby,goodmadarn\Good Madam
\ by Servants. Ff, Del. Sch. Om. Qq. he by Qq, Coll. Sing.
I 21. Gent.] DoA. Qq, Coll. Del. Sing. 24. not"] Om. F,F,.
\ Ktly, Sch. Phys. Pope+, Jen. 24, 25. Cor...J'A^r//] Om. Ff+.
of*sUep'\ Ed. ofsleepeYU Rowe+,
) 20. Is he array*d ?] From this question Delixjs infers that the stage-direction of
I the Ff is correct, and that Lear is not on the stage at the opening of the scene. [But,
if Lear be represented on or in a bed, Cordelia's question is not inappropriate, or, \ if he be asleep, in a chair, swathed round with robes, the question might still be
I asked.— Ed.]
21. of sleep] I think this is, probably, an instance of the absorption of his, — Ed. \ 25. Louder . • . there !] Capell: A noble thought of the poet's in this editor's
; judgement [t . /. CapelPs] ; what he gathers [from these words] is this : that a soft
I * music ' should be heard at the scene's opening, and behind the bed, which is dis-
\ tant; that this music had been Lear's composer, and (together with his composure)
his cure; that it is now call'd-to by the Doctor for the purpose of waking him, by ' such strains as were proper, rising gradually ; which is not a noble thought only, but
j\i5t, and of good effect on the scene. > 25. music] BucKNiLL (p. 222) : This seems a bold experiment, and one not uu-
fraught with danger. The idea that the insane mind is beneficially influenced by \ music is, indeed, an ancient and general one ; but that the medicated sleep of insanity
; * isbould be interrupted by it, and that the first object presented to the consciousness
should be the very person most likely to excite profound emotion, appear to be ex- pedients little calculated to promote that tranquillity of the mental functions which is, ' undoubtedly, the safest state to induce, after the excitement of mania. A suspicion
of this may have crossed Shakespeare's mind, for he represents Lear in, imminent danger of passing into a new^form of delusion. The earliest note of the employ* ment of music in the treatment of thb insane is in the Bible (i Sam, xvi) where David calmed Saul. • • . Modem physicians appear to liave little faith in its effects when simply listened to. Esquirol says, < I have often employed music, but very rarely obtained any success thereby. It calms and composes the mind, but does not
ACT IV, sc. vii.] KING LEAR 299
Car. O my dear father, restoration hang- 26
Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss Repair those violent harms that my two sisters Have in thy reverence made !
Kent Kind and dear princess !
Car, Had you not been their father, these white flakes 30 Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face To be opposed against the warring winds ?
* To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
* In the most terrible and nimble stroke
* Of quick, cross lightning? to watch, poor perdu 1 3$
26-29. 0.,.madef] Three lines, end- HadehalUngd Q,. ffad chaUen^d Q^
ing lips^.Jtfters,..,nuui€, Q,. Four lines, et cet. faihert,.MppeSt,.Juarmes,,,made. Q,. 31. a faee\ face F^F^, Rowe, Pope,
26. fathtr^ restoration] Ff {r^auro' Han. Jen.
tian FJ, Huds. Sch. /otMer rejloratid 32. ofifiosfd] txpo/HQq, Pope-f,Jea
Q,. /atJker, ReftoroHon Q,. father! Stecv. Ec. Var. Coll. i. Sing. KUy,
Restoration Pope et cet. warring] iarring F,, Jarring
restoration hang] RestauraHtm^ ^•^3^4* Rowe, Knt, Sch.
hang Theob. Warb. Johns. Cap. Jen. 33-36. To,„helm f] Om. Ff, Rowe,
Steev. Ec. Var. Coll. Sing. Sta. Wh. Pope, Han.
Ktly. 33. dread-bolted] Hyphen, Theob.
27. Thy] Her Han. lU So quoted 35. /i;f4/^m^//(»]AsinTheob. Hght- by Mrs Jameson, ning to Q,* lightning, to Q;.
[Kisses him. Johns. watch, poor perdu f] Warb.
29. dVar]^Mr/j/ Theob. Warb. Johns. wateh poore Per do, Qq. waich poor 31. Did challenge] Ff+, Cap. Sch. Perdue: Theob.
cnre. I have seen insane persons whom music rendered furious ; • • . I believe the ancients exaggerated the effects of music, while the facts recorded by modem writers are not sufficiently numerous to determine under what circumstances it possibly may be of benefit This means of treatment, however, is precious, especially in con« ▼alescence, and ought not to be neglected, however indeterminate may be the prin* ciples of its application, and however uncertain may be its efficacy.'
26. restoration, &c.] Warburtom : This b fine. She invokes the goddess of health, Hygieia, under the name of * Restoration,* to make her the minister of her rites, in thb holy office of recovering her father's lost senses. SteeveK3: ' Restoration' is no more than recovery personified. Dblius: The construction is *Let restoration hang,' &c. ' Thy medicine ' is Lear's medicine, the medicine which is to restore him. [This is also Hudson's explanation, and clearly the true one. — Ed.]
33. dread-bolted] Cowdsn Ciarke calls attention to the number of compound words in this play.
35. lightning] Walker ( Vers, 17) : Is not < lightning ' a trisyllable ? Pronounce, I think, ' p6rdu ; ' the flow of the verse shows this ; and the instances I have met with of the use of the word mostly agree with this supposition. [Here follow many Instances oi plrdue (among them the line from The Little French Lawyer quoCo
300 KING LEAR [aqt iv. sc. viL
* With this thin helm ?* Mine enemy's dogj 36
Though he had bit me, shoul4 have stood that night Against my fire ; and wast thou fain, poor father, To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn.
36. helm t Mine] helme mine Q^ enemy s Theob. Warb. Johns, Mine ih"
36-38. Mine.^father^l Three lines, jurer'sCB.p. ending me,.,^re,.../atAer), Ff« Ending 36. dcigf] dog^ iitenYiAj.
shou*d,„fire:.„faikertVQi^. ^6-42. Mine.,Mmi]h\nts end sAou*'a
^6, Mine enemy s}Fopc, MineEni' ,,.wast,,swine,.Mrawf^»,7tnts,,.,'wakes,,.,
mies Ff. mine iniuriotes Qq* My very him, Han. (reading Alack! only once)
below) and of 'lightning' as a trisyllable. See also to the same efiect Abbott. S 477. Keigktley's text reads ' lightening.']
35. perdu] Rbed: In Polemon*s Collection 0/ £atielsrh\, 1. p. 98/ an account of the battle of Marignano is translated from Jovius, in which is the following passage : *They were very chosen fellowes taken out of all the Cantoiis, men in the prime of youth, and of singular forwardenesse : who by a very auntient order of that country, that by dooyng some deede of passyng prowesse they may obtaine rare honour of warrefare before they be growen in yeares, doe of themselves request all perillous and hardtf pieces of service, and often use with deadlye praise to runne unto proposed deaths These men do they call, of their inmioderate fortitude. and stoutnesse, the desperats forlome hopen, and the Frenchmen enfans perdus : and it is lawfull for them, by the prerogative of their prowesse, to beare an ensigne, to- have conducte and double wages all their life long. Neyther. are the forlome knowen from the rest by anye other marke and cognisance than the plumes of white feathers, the which, after the manner of captaines, they doe toum behinde, waveryng over theyr shoulder with a brave kynde of riot.' Again, in Bacon's Apology touching the late Earl o/Essex^ 1651, p. 105: < — ^you have put me like one of those that the Frenchmen call Enfans perdus that serve on foot Wore horsemen.'- Whalley: Amongst other desperate services in which the forlorn hope, or enfans perdus , were engaged, the night-watches seem to have been a common one. So in Beau. an4 Fl. : < These are trim things. I am set here like a perdu^ To watch a fellow that has wrong'd my mistress.' — Little French Lawyer, II, iii, Wright : Cotgrave says, ' Enfans perdus. Perdus ; or the forlome hope, of a campe (are commonly Gentlemen of Companies).' MoberlV : The mean- ing may be simply ' poor lost one.' [The Ca&ibridge Edition records pour perdu as a conjecture by Pye, but I think it is merely a misprint in the latter's volume. — Ed.]
36. dog] Collier : The misprint of the Qq : injurious for ' enemy's * is quite as extraordinary as that of * runaways ' for enemies in Rom. &* Jul, Mitford {Cent,, Mag, p. 469, 1S44) conjectures that the Qq lead to the word that will supply the line, « Mine enemy's furious dog.' Verplanck : The late J. W. Jarvis, the artist,, used often to quote these lines as accumulating in the shortest compass the greatest causes of dislike to be overcome by good-natured pity. It is not merely the personal enemy, for whom there might be human sympathy, that is admitted to the family fireside, but his dog, and that a dog who had himself inflicted his own share of personal injury, and that too upon a gentle being from whom it was riot possible that be could have received any provocation.
39» rogues] Walker, in his article 'On Slave^ {Crit, ii. 30S), cites this in pi'oof
Acrjr,9C.vi.) KING LEAR 301
In short and mosly straw? Alack, alack! 40
Tis wonder diat thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded alL — ^He wakes; spcslk to him.
DoA Madam, do yon; 'tis fittest
Cor. How does my royal lord? How &xes yoor ma* jesty?
Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' th' grave; 45
Thou art a soul in Uiss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
Cor. Sir, do you know me?
41. tfyl flif YJP^ 44. Two lines. Ft
42. €9mdmUd€UL^ff€\ emAdedaB^ 45. d tk'^atkQ^ tf'M Q^ ieQ^ tmOudai^AAI Jk^VVaA. ^fL saOd] /cal'd ¥^
43. Doa.] Gen. F^ GenLTJFjP^ do ycu knew wh f] Ikmtm wu. (i^ do/om/l da yarn speakt Han. ktufwyt mi/ Q^
Ihat ' rogae,' like slime and viUnn, was not originally an opprobrious tenn, bat sig> nified pn^>eriy vq^ramt,
40. short] MoBSRLT: If the reading is conrect, *shoit' most mean vuufiaeftt. But maj not dirt have been the ori^^nal ? [It b difficult to attach any meaning to * short' that seems appropriate here ; the word most be a misprint. Moberly's con* jectore occnrred independently to the present Ed.]
41. wonder] Wright; Used for wonderful^ jost as in Bacon frequently we find ^reason' for 'reasonable.' See, for instance. Essay xi, p. 59: 'Nay, retire Men cannot, when they woald; neither will they, when it were Reason.' It occurs in Chancer, Squyeres Tale (1. 10562, ed. T. Wright): 'Tho speeken they of Canacees ryng^ And seyden alle, that snch a wonder thing Of craft of xynges herd they never noon.' Again, in the Knightes Tale, 1. 2075 (ed. iyrwhitt)i 'Ther saw I many another wonder stone.' Compare *it is danger,' L 79, for <it is dangerous.'
43. all] For other instances of this adveibial use, see ScHMnyr s. v.
47. fire] MoBERLT: It would almost seem as if Sh. had borrowed the description of Lear's reviving senses from what he had seen or known of in some one recov- ered from drowning. At any rate, the feelings of one thus returning to life, u described by Sir F. Beaufort, have striking points of resemblance: <A helpless anxiety seemed to press on every sense, and to prevent the formation of any dis* jtinct thought; and it was with difficulty that I became convinced I was really alive. Agadn, instead of bdng free from bodily pain, as in my drowning state, I war now tortured with pain all over me; and though I have often been wounded^ and had to submit to severe surgical discipline, yet my sufierings at that time were far greater, at least in general distress.'— Ma&tin£AU, JBiog. SketekiSt p. 321. [Does Lear refer to physical pain ? — ^Ed.]
47. that] For «that' equivalent to to tkat, see Ham. IV, vi, 211, and IV* tii, 14S.
26
30^ KING LEAR [act iv, sc. viL
Lear. You are a spirit, I know; when did you die?
Cor. Still, still, &r wide 1 50
Doct. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile.
Lear. Where have I been ? Where am I ? Fair day- light? I am mightily abused. I should e*en die with pity, To see another thus. I know not what to say. I will not swear these are my hands. Let 's see; 55
1 feel this pin prick. Would I were assured Of my condition !
Cor. Oh, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o*er me. ♦ No, sir,* you must not kneel.
Lear. Pray, do not mock me;
I am a very foolish, fond, old man, 60
49. You are] Yar Q,. Vare Q,. Wh. Ktly.
when\ where QsF,F^ Coll. i, Sch. 54. what to say] wJkat Han.
51. Do^] Gen. or G«nt Ff. 56, 57. I feeL.,.conditM] One line,
51, 5a. Four lines, Ff. Qq.
53. / am] Vm Pope+, Jen. Sta. 57-59. OA,..Jnee/.] Prose, Q,.
Pyce ii, Huds. 57. t^m] cm Han.
mig^Mly] much Han. 58. hands] hand Ff-f, Knt, Sclu
i^en] ene Qq. et^n F,F^ Sch. 59. No^ sir^] Om. Ff, Rowe.
even TJF^, Rowe, Theob. Warb. Johns. me] Om. Q,.
Cap. Steev. £c. Var. Coll. Del. Sing. 60. Mman] old-man Kiiy.
49. when] Dtce {Remarhs^ 231) : When is all but nonsense. Collier : It may appear to others no greater nonsense to ask a spirit * Where did you die?' than * When did you die ? ' It is, as Cordelia says, < Still, stiU far wide.'
53. abused] Johnson : I am strangely imposed on by appearances; I am in a strange mist of uncertainty. [See Ham. II, ii, 579 : * Abuses me to damn me.']
58. benediction] Hudson: A parent's curse was a dreadful thing among our foolish ancestors; and so Cordelia longs first of all to have her father revoke the curse he pronounced upon her in the opening of the play. She had not learned to act as if * a man were author of himself, and knew no other kin.'
59. kneel] Steevens : This circumstance I find in the old play of King Leir. As it is always difficult to say whether such accidental resemblances proceed from imitation, or a similarity of thinking on the same occasion, I can only point out this to the reader, to whose determination I leave the question. [See Appendix, p. 400.]
60-75. Ray (p. 500) : A more faithful picture of the mind, at the moment when it is emerging from the darkness of disease into the dear atmosphere of health restored, was never executed than this of Lear's recovery. Generally, recovery from acute mania is gradual, one delusion after another giving away, until, after a series of struggles, which may occupy weeks or months, between the convictions of reason and the suggestions of disease, the patient comes out a sound, rational man. In a
ACT IV. sc. vii.] KING LEAR 303
Fourscore and upward, not an Jiour more nor less; 6i
And, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in myperfefl mind
Methinks I should know you and know this man ;
Yet I am doubtful ; for I am mainly ignorant 65
What place this is. and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments, nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night Do not laughat me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.
Cor, And so I am : I am. 70
Lear. Be your tears wet ? yes, fiuth. I^pray, weep not
61, 62. Founcore,„plainly\ As in Knt 65. for I am\ for Pm Pope+, Jen.
Three lines, Ff. Two lines, ending »/- Dyce ii, Huds.
ward,„.piainfyt Rowe, Cap. Del. Sing. 67. nor /] nay LFo^pt-^.
Sch. 68. noi] no Q,.
61. Fourscore] Fourscore years Ktly, 70. /am: /am.']F^, /amlQ^. lam: reading the rest as Qq. / am, F,F,F^. I am; I am^ Rowe,
no/.., Jess ;1 Om. (reading Four^ Pope, Han. / am; I ami-^ Theob.
fcore...plainly as one line), Qq, Pope +, Warb. Johns. Jen. I am, I am. Cap,
Jen. Steev. Ec. Var. Ktly. cl cet.
62. plainly] plainly with you Han. 71. ^Be...wet'\ One line, Ff.
63. in my perfeil] perfeil in my Q;. P^<^y\ pray you Rowc+, Jen.
small proportion of cases,- however, this change takes place very rapidly. Within the space of a few hours or a day he recognizes his true condition, abandons his delusions, and contemplates all his relations in an entirely different light.
61, not • • • less] Steevens: The authenticity of this passage Sir Joshua Rey- nolds justly suspects. It was probably the interpolation of some player, and is better omitted, both in regard to sense and versification. RrrsoN agrees with Steevens, and adds < foolish' before 'player.' Malqnb Says that the Folio's < absurd' addition means <not an hour more or less than an indeterminate number, for such is fourscore find upward^ KkigRT denounces the omission of this phrase as a sacrilege not les» than the breaking off of a limb from an ancient statue. * Why,* who is speaking? One who speaks logically and connectedly ? No I one who immediately after says, «'I fear I am not in my perfect mind." It was the half-consciousness of the '< fool- ish, fond old man" which Sh. meant to express by the mixture of a determinate and' an indeterminate idea.' Walker ( Vers, 156) : The words are nonsense, it is true, but are they out of place in the mouth of Lear? Hudson: The nonsense of them, indicating, as it does, some remains of Lear's disorder, is the very reason why they should be retained.
70. I am: I am.] Cowden Clarke: Never surely was the passionate weeping of a reticent woman more perfectly expressed in brief written words than these and the <No cause, no cause' that follow. They so admirably portray the suppressed weeping natural to such a character as Cordelia's; concentrated and undemonstra- tive, yet intensely loving and earnest
304 KING LEAR [act IV, sc. viL
If you have poison for me, I will drink it ^2
I know you do not love me; for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong; You have some cause, tliey have not
Cor. No cause, no cause. 75
Lear, Am I in France?
Kenk In your own kingdom, sir.
Lear. Do not abuse me.
Do^. Be comforted, good madam ; the great rage, You see, is kill'd in him ; * and yet 'tis danger ♦ To make him even o'er the time he has lost* 80
Desire him to go in ; trouble him no more Till further settling.
74. me\ we F^ €w^d Han. cwredin him Qq et cet
75. nof\ nom Han. 79, 80. and..Msi,'\ Om. Ff, Rowc^
77. m^.] 191// Q,. Fope, Han.
78. Doa.] Gent. Ff. 79. '/£r] Jen. Ktly, Dyce ii, Huds. 7S-82. Be»Mttnng,'\ Theob. Ftose, Sch. ^twen Theob. Warb. Johns. U i$
Qq. Three lines, ending ragi..^ m,... Qq et cet
/etliiig, Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. 80. itfen\ even go Ktly.
79. AilPd in him] Ff, Rowe, Knt, he has] ;i'ai Theob. Waib. Johns. BeL Dyce, Sta. Glo.+» Coll. iii, Sch. 81. iroubUI And trouble Voi^,H»xl
79. IdU'd] COLUER : QueWdwzA perhaps the poet's word, and ftteU^dukd * kill'd/ in most systems of short-hand, would be spelt with the same letters.
80. even o'er] Warburton : That is, to reconcile it to his apprehension. Steb> VENS : I believe Warburton's explanation is just. The poor old king had nothing to tell, though he had much to hear. The speaker's meaning, therefore, I conceive to be — it is dangctotts to render all that passed during the interval of his insanity, even (1. e, plain or level) to his understanding, while it continues in its present state of uncertainty. Collier : We may suspect some corruption, but the meaning is evi* dent, and no alteration absolutely required. Hudson : This means, try to account for the time, or to make the last day of his remembering tally or fit with the present. Delius prefers to consider * even ' as an adjective rather than as a verb. Schiodt {Lex, s. V. eveUf adj. 7) : That is, to give a full insight into, a clear perception of. Wright: To smooth over, render what had passed unbroken in his recollection. The sense is the same [whether it be taken as an adj. or as a verb], but it seems pre- ferable to consider it as a verb. The danger consisted rather in allowing Lear's mind to exert itself in recalling the past than in teUing him what had happened. Schmidt : A verb to even equivalent to to smooth is not to be found in Sh.
82. settling] Brigham [Am. Jour, of Insanity, July, 1844) : We confess, almost with shame, that, although near two centuries and a half have passed since Sh. thus wrote, we have very little to add to his method of treating the insane as thus pointed out. To .produce sleep, and to quiet the mind by medical and moral treatment, to avoid all nnkindness, and, when patients begin to convalesce, to guard, as he directs.
ACT IV, sc vii.) KING LEAR 30$
Car. Will 't please your highness walk ? 83
Lecar. You must bear with me. Pray you now, forget and forgive; I am old and foolish. 85
\Exeunt all but Kent and GentUman.
* Gent. Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall ♦was so slain?
* Kent. Most certain, sir.
* Gent. Who is conduftor of his people?
* Kent. As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester. gib
* Gent. They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the
* Earl of Kent in Germany.
* Kent. Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; *the powers of the kingdom approach apace.
* Gent. The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you 95 ♦well, sir. lExit.
* Kent. My point and period will be throughly wrought,
* Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought [Exit.*
S3. JVUfflRowe. ff^QqF^Gap. lCent^xhangeaMi....Jkmgdom.,.Mpau^
(collected in Eixata). bioody..Mr. Steev. Bos. Knt^ Sing.
ymr\ ym F^ 86. Mo/] Om. O^
84. Prayycu\ Pray Qq. 9a As 'tis] 'TKr Cq». As it it Bid 84, 85. Vm../ifciisk.'] Prose, Q^, Cam. Ec.
Vfr. Three lines, ending mi:,„firgiui, 93*^* Li&cs end ah(mt^.japaei...fit.
../ooKJhf in Q,Ff+, Jen. Two lines, Qq.
the 6rst ending me: Cap. et cet. 95. Tke] And the Cap.
85. laffil Vm Dyce ii, Huds. hl9odfy'\ most bloody Cap. a bloody [Exeunt...] Exeunt Manet Kent Steev. Bos.
Mid Gent. Qq (subs.) Exeunt. Ff. 96. [Exit.] Exit Gent Theob. Om.
86-98. Om. Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. Qq.
86-96. Hotds..Mr^ lines end sUry... 97. tArottigAfy'] thorottghly "Wh*
sir...Mid^,..Edgar^..JCentt,.,.ehangeabU 98. battles'] Theob. batteb Qq.
....Jdngdom arbUrement,...Mr, Cap. [Exit] Exit Kent Theob. Om.
Lines end sir^,..Jsir„.said^.,.Edgar^.... Q^.
1 — I 1
against anything likely to disturb their minds and to cause a relapse, b now consid*
ered the best and nearly the only essential treatment. 83. walk] Schmidt: That is, go, withdraw. [See III, iv, ill.] 85. CbLERiDGE: How beautifully the affecting return of I>ar to reason, and the
mild pathos of his speeches, prepare the mind for the last sad, yet sweet, consolation
of the aged sufferer's death I- 86-98. Johnson : What is omitted in the Ff is at least proper, if not necessary;
and it was omitted by the author, I suppose,, for no other reason than to shorten Uie
representation. Malonx: It is much more probable that it was omitted by the
players, after the author's departure from the stage, without consulting him. [See
Appendix, The Text.}
26* U
306 KING LEAR [actv.SCL
ACT V
ScEMB L The Bridsk camp mar Dover. £nfer^ with drum and colours^ Edmund, Regan, Gentlemen, and Soldioti
Edm. Know of the duke if his last purpose bold. Or whether since he is advised by aught To change the course. He's full of alteration And self-reproving. Bring his constant pleasure.
\To a Gentleman^ who goes out.
Reg. Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. 5
Edm. Tis to be doubted^ madam.
Reg. Now, sweet lord,
You know the goodness I intend upon you ; Tell me, — ^but truly, — ^but then speak the truth, Do you not love my sister?
Edm. In honour'd love.
Reg. But have you never found my brother's way 10
To the forfended place ?
* Edm. That thought abuses you.
* Reg. I am doubtful that you have been conjun£);
* And bosom'd with her, as &r as we call hers.*
Act v. Sckns x.] Actus Qtuntns. /elftrtprouing'F^. Scena Prima Ff (Scsena FJ. 4. self-reprwing. Bring\ ttlf-reprtn^
The Britidi...] Cap. (sabs.) A ing brings Pope. Camp. Rowe. [To...] Glo. To an Officer; who
Enter...] Ff. Enter Edmund, Regan, bows, and goes out. Ckp. Om. QqFf. and their powers. Qq. Enter Bastard, 8. pu, — btti truiy, — \ Johns, mi but
Regan, Gentlemen, and Soldiers. Rowe. truly, Q|Ff+. me truly Q;. me^ but
Enter Edmund, Regan, Gentleman and truly. Cap. Soldiers. Warb. 9. /«] /, Q,. /Q,. Ay, in Anon.*
2. aughf] Theob. ought QqFf. 10-14. Om. Johns.
3. course,'] Coll. cour/e, QqFf. course f 11. forfended^ fore-f ended Ff. Popc+, Jen. IX-13. Edm..,.>l<rr.] Om. Ff+.
He^s] hi «^. 12, 13. Iam„.hers,'\ Vtost, (^.
alteratum] abdication Q,. 12-14. L^'madam] Om. Cap.
4. self-reprovingl Hyphened in Q;.
4. constant pleasure] Johnson: His settled resolution. See "constant will,*
I, i, 41.
6. doubted] Schmipt (Z/x.} : That is, feared, suspected. [So also * doubtful/ line 12.]
ACT V, sa L] KING LEAR ^0^
Edm. No, by mine honour, madam.
Reg. I never shall endure hen Dear my lord. If
Be not familiar with her.
Edm. Fear me not—
She and the duke her husband 1
Enter, wUJk drum andcoburs, Albaott, Gomzul, and Soldiers.
* Gott. \Aside\ I had rather lose the battle than that sister
* Should loosen him and_me.*
Alb, Our very loving sister, well be-met— 20
Sir, tiiis I hear: the king is 4:ome to his daughteii With others whom the rigour of our state Forced to cry out * Where I could not be honest,
* I never yet was valiant; for this business,
14. madam\ Om. F6pe, Han. in Q^ Om. FT, Rowe, P6pe, Han.
15. 16. /iMCvr..JI«r.] Prose, Q.. Two iS. [Aside] First by Theob.
lines, the first ending endnn ktrinQ^ I Mad} I'dTheoh. Warb. Johns.
16. 17. Fear„,Jkta6and} Cap. One iasi] Theob. loo/e Qq. line, QqFf+, Jen. sisier"] my sister Ktly,
16. me'l Om. Ff-I-. 19* loMenI cofin Q .
17. husband f\ DeL Dyce, Glo.-f-, 20. *#-»irf]3^iw//QFj,Rowe+,Cap» Hnds. husband, QqFf» Sing. Sch. kus^ Jen. Steer. Ec. Var. Knt.
basut^ Rowe et cet 21. Str^ this /heard] Ff, Rowe, Pope,
Enter...and Soldiers.] Ehter...Sol* Han. Knt, Dyce i, Sch. For this /
diets. Ff. Enter Albany and Gonorill heare Qq. Sir, this I hear Theob. et
with troapes. Qq. cet *Fore this, J hear, MaL conj.
18, 19. Gon. /...«if.] Theob. Prose, 23-28. Where,.,ncbly,'\ Om. Ff.
Q^ Two lines, the first ending batteil, 24. for] ^fore Theob.
15. endure] Dklius: That is, I never shall snfier her to be so intimate with yoo. 20, be-met] Abbott, § 438 : In participles, be-, like other prefixes, is often redan*
dant, and seems to indicate an nnoonsdou^ want of some substitute for the old participial prefix. Wright: The prefix here has apparently no force whatever. Schmidt: Only found here, and perhaps coined by Sh.
24-27. for • • • oppose] Thbobald (followed by Warburton and Johnson) represents this speech as broken off by Edmund's interruption, and therefore has merely a comma and a dash after ^oppose.* He also supposes that < for' is a con* traction of before, and prints it ^fore, and thus paraphrases the whole sentenceir
* Before We fight this Battle, Sir, it concerns me, (tho' not the King, and the discon* tented Party;) to question about your Interest in our Sister, and the Event of the War.' He adds : < And Regan and Gonerill, in their Replies, both seem apprehen* sive that this. Subject was coming into Debate.* Warburton pronounces it * a very plain speech,' and gives the meaning thus: This quarrel is just in one sense and unjust in another. As France invkdes our land, I am concerned to repel him, but as he hoids, entertains and supports the king, and others whom I fear many just and
308 KING LEAR [ACTT.saL
* It toucheth us, as France invades our land, 35
* Not holds the king, with others, whom, I fear,
* Most just and heavy causes make oppose.
* Edm. Sir, you speak nobly.*
Reg. Why is this reasoned?
Gon. Combine together 'gainst the enemy ; For these domestic and particular broils 30
35. tmchethi touches Q^. 26, 27. wiaL.jippne\ Om. Sng. Ktly.
36. N9i..,..oihers] Not tki M kmg 37. oppasi,'] oppose^^ Theob. Warb. wUh others^ or Not holds with the hin^, Johns.
ami otkers or l^holds the img and 38. Edm. 5tr,....iM^^.] Om. Fope^
Mers BiasoQ. Han.
36, 37. Not^.,pppose'\ In parenthesis, nobfyl odfy or eoldfy Mason.
Theob. 3a and partUuiar broUsI dore par*
s6. boUU] holds Pope +, Jen. holds tsenlarsQ^ doore particulart,Q^
to Han. holds for Cap. Ec. partic»dar\ partieurlar F,. hmg^lhing; MaL Steer. Bos. Knt.
heavy causes mahCf or compel, as it were, to eppose ns, I esteem it nnjust to engage against them. CAfbxx thus paraphrases: *As for this bosiness, — ^it toucheth us as France invades our kingdom, mjiashe holds for the king, in conjunction with the others whom,' &c Steevbns: This business touches us as France invades our land, TLoHasit * holds the king,' L /. emboldens him to assert his former title. Thus in the ancient interlude of Hycke Scomer : * Alas, that I had not one to bold me 1' Again, in Hall's trans, of the Fourth Iliads Z581 : ' And Pallas holds the Greeks,' &c [As Wright observes, Steevens b wrong here ; it b not ' thb business' that < holds the king,' but * France,' as Warburton and O^teU have justly interpreted iL For a long Ibt of verbs like 'holds' formed from nouns and adjectives, see Abbott, $ 390.— Ed.] Cambridge Edctors : * Not holds the king ' b usually interpreted as on elliptical phrase for ' Not as it emboldens the king.' Thb b, however, a very haxsh construction, and^e word 'holds' occurs nowhere else in Sh. with this meaning, though we have, according to the most probable reading, 'dear'd' for
* endear'd ' in Ant, 6* Cleep, I, iv, 44. Possibly these words are corrupt and a line has dropped out before them. Albany ought to say something of thb kind: 'I should be ready to resist any mere invader, but the presence in the invader's camp of the king and other Britons, who have a just cause of enmity to us, dashes my courage.'
38. nobly] Cavell: Edmund's reply b irony, and hb 'nobly' a trisyllable. Walker ( Vers. la) says that ' nobly ' b not a fair instance of the expansion of a dissyllable into a trisyllable, like 'angxy,' 'children,' &c., because 'nobly' b con* tracted from noblefy, Abbott, { 477, dtes it under that head.
30. particular] Malonx: Doore ot dore of the Qq was probably a misprint for dear^ L e. important. Stexvxns: *Door particidars ' signify, I believe, particulars at our very doois, close to us, and consequently fitter to be setUed at home. Collier s The text of the Qq b impossible to strain to a meaning unless we suppose door mis- printed for poor, MiTFORD {Gent, Maga, p. 469, 1844) : In < doore particulars ' of the Qq the ^ b only a / reversed. Read then, 'these domestic poore particnlan.*
ACT V, sc. i.] KING LEAR 309
Are not the question here.
Alb, Let's then determine 31
With th* ancient of war on our proceeding.
* Edm. I shall attend you presently at your tent.*
Reg. Sister, you '11 go with us ?
Gon, No. 35
Rcg^ Tis most convenient ; pray you, go with us.
Gon. \Aside\ Oh, ho, I know the riddle. — I will go.
As they are going oui^ enter Edgar disguised,
Edg. If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor, Hear me one word. Alb. I'll overtake you. —
\Ex€unt all but Albany and Edgar. Speak. Edg. Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. 40
If you have viftory, let the trumpet sound For him that brought it; wretched though I seem, I can produce a champion that will prove
31. the'\ to Qq, Cap. Steev. Var. Sing. Han. Sch.
Ktly. 37. Oh,»,riddU\ As « Aside ' by Cap.
Let '/] Letvs Qq, Siecv. Var. CoU. The whole line as « Aside/ Han. Johns.
Del.Wh. As....disg:uised.] Theob. Enter
31, 32. LetU..,proceeding,'\ Prose, Q,. Edgar. Q,. Exit. Enter Edgar. Q,.
First line ends toarre, Ff+, Knt. Exeunt both the Armies. Enter Edgar.
32. tA* ancient} Ff+. the auntient Ff. Exeunt. Scene n. Manet Albany. Q,. the Ancient Q^. th* ancients Hon. Enter Edgar. Pope +, Jen. As they are the ancient Cap. et cet. going out, and Albsmy last, Enter Ed-
proceeding'] Ff+, Cap. Knt, Del. gar. Cap.
Wh. Sch. proceedings Qq et cet. 38. man"] one Q,.
33. Edm. / shalL,„Jent,'] Om. Ff, 39. [Exeunt....] Exeunt Edm. Reg. Rowe, Pope. Transferred to follow Gon. and Attendants. Theob. Exeunt. here, line 31, Theob. Warb. (after word), Q,. Om. Q,Ff.
36. pray you] pray Ff, Rowe, Pope, 42. wretched] wretch F^F^F^.
32. ancient of war] Eccles : With such as are grown old in the practice of the military art. Walker (Cr£^.iii,2S3): Possibly < th' ancient m^» of war.' [Schmidt suggests the same.] Abbott, § 479, thus scans : < With th' &n | ci6nt | of w&r | on 6ur | proceedings.' Wright : The line is metrically defective and may be corrupt. Mo- BERLT : As we should say with the Adjutant-General. The word is derived from the Italian *anziano,' but seems to have got confused in English with ' ensign,' as a Yorlcshireman speaks of 'the ancient of yon vessel.'
37. riddle] Moberly: You want me with you only that yon may keep watch over all my dealings with Edmund*
3IO KING LEAR [act v, SC i.
What is avouched there. If you miscarry,
Your business of the world hath so an end, 45
And machination ceases. Fortune love you !
Alb. Stay till I have read the letter.
Edg. I was forbid it
When time shall serve; let but the herald cry. And {'11 appear again.
Alb. Why, fare thee well I will o'erlook thy paper. 50
\Exit Edgar. Re-itUer Edmund.
Edm. The enemy's in view; draw up your powers. Here is the guess of their true strength and forces By diligent discovery; but your haste Is now urged on you.
AIL We will greet the time. \Exit.
Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn my love ; 55
Each jealous of the other, as the stung
46. And.„cfasftJ] Om. Qq. 52, ITere] Hard Qq, Pope -I- • lcwe\ ioues Ff, Rowe. i;uess\ queffe Q,.
47. / have\ Vve Popc+, Jen. Sta. true\ great Qq, Jen.
Dyce ii, Huds. 53, 54. By^.you,^ One line, Qq.
47-49. I toas,*,again,'\ Prose, Q,. 53. haste] haft QqFf.
50. L^paperl Separate line/WTalker [giving a paper, (after discovery)^ {Crit, iii, 283). Jen. Showing a paper^ Coll. iii.
tferhokl lookeoreQ^ 54. [Exit.] Om. Q^
thyl the Qq. 5$. ScENE m. Popc+ , Jen.
[Exit Edgar.] Dyce. Exit (after sisters] Jifter Q,.
again^ line 49), QqFf. l^S"^* Eaeh^^o/d,] Two lines, the
Re-enter..] Theob. Enter.. QqFf. first ending i^</<i^,Q,. Three lines, end«
51. enemy s"] enemies Q^, Enemies ing Addert„.one,„enioyd, Q;.
5r 56. f/kr>y]/iiyQq.
45. of] For instances of ' of ' in the sense of * as regards,* see Abbott, $ 173, or ^ pf our demands Most free in his reply/ Ifam. Ill, i, 13.
46. machination] Johnson: All designs against your life will have an end. S3, discovery] Wright: Reconnoitring. Compare Macb, V, Iv, 6, < make dit-
cdvery Err in report of us/ and Ant. 6r* Cleop, IV, xU, 2.
53, $4. but . . . you] Heath : But the urgency of the present exigence will allow you but a short time for the perusal of it. . Collier : It appears from the (MS) that Edmund did not give, but showed, a paper to Albany. Schmidt paraphrases : the need, that you be not dilatory now falls to yoiu Hitherto you have let me do every- thing (witness the reconnoitring just finished), now yon yourself .must act
54. time] Johnson : We will be ready to greet the occasion.
56. Jealous] DsLius: Suspicious. Wright: Cotgrave gives <Ialoux: m.ouse;£ Jealous ; mistrustful, suspicious.' In Lowland Scotch * to jalouse ' is < to suspect.'
ACT V, sa L] KING LEAR 3^ ^
Are of the adder Which of them shall I take? 57
Both ? one ? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd.
If both remain alive. To take the widow
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril ; 6o
And hardly shall I carry out my side,
Her husband being alive. Now then we'll use
His countenance for the battle ; which being done.
Let her who would be rid of him devise
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy 65
Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia, —
The battle done, and they within our power.
Shall never see his pardon ; for my state
58. Both t onef\ both ont Qq. 66. iniends] tnUnds Q,. extends Q^
64. whol thai Qq. 68. Shall never] They shall nder
65. the] his Qq. Han. They shall never Ktly.
6 1, side] Mason : < I shaU scarcely be able to make out my game.' The allasioa is to a party at cards, and he is afraid that he shaU not be able to make his side sac* cessfoL Thus, in Massinger's Unnatural Combat [II, i] Belgarde says, ' if now. At this downright game, I may but hold your cards, I'll not pull down the side.' Again, in the The Maid*s Tragedy [II, i] : *Evad, Aspatia take her part. Dula. I will xefuse it; she will pluck down a side ; she does not use it.' But the phrase is still more clearly explained in Massinger's Great Duke of Fhrenee [IV, ii] : <If I hold your cards, I shall pull down the side ; I am not good at the game.' GlFFORD, in a note on the passage in The Unnatural Combat^ says : The allusion is to a party at cards; Xo set up a side was to become partners in a game; to pull^ or pluck down a side (for both these terms are found in our old plays), was to occasion its loss by ignorance or treachery. To this Dycb {Gloss^ adds : < and to carry out a side was to carry out the game with success.' White: The phrase should hardly need ex- planation as long as people take sides in games and in earnest. To Walker (Crit, iii, 283) this phrase, strangely enough, seems to have been unfamiliar; he terms * side ' nonsense, adding * suUe^ I suppose.' Lettsom, in a foot-note, says : * If Walker is right, <* carry out" is used almost in the new-fangled sense common of late years. It seems to have nearly the same meaning in the passage quoted by Steevens from The Honest Man*s Fortune, IV, ii [Beau, and Fl. p. 424, ed. Dyce], * thy greatness may . • • carry out A world of evils with thy title.'
67. Abbott, §411, thinks this a confusion of two constructions (like IV, vi, 33), viz: *let the battle be done, and they' and 'the battle (being) done, they.' But WrxgRT gives a simpler explanation, that the nominative to * shall ' is omitted, as is frequently the case in sentences where the omission causes no obscurity. Of this omission there are numberless instances in Sh. See Lear II, ii, 114; II, iv, 41; ^flffi. II, ii, 67; in, i, 8.
68. for my sUte] Johnson: I do not think that < (or* stands here as a word of inference or causality. The meaning is rather : as for my state, it requires now, not deliberation, but defence and support. Weight thinks < for' can be taken in either sense.
312 KING LEAR [ACTV.SCii
Stands on me to defend, not to debate. \ExiL
Scene IL Afield between the two camps.
Alarum wUAik, Bnter^vritA drum and colours^ Lear* Cokdeua, Qud Soldioi^ ever the stage ; and exeunt.
Enter Edgar and Gloucester.
Edg. Here, father, take the shadow of this tree For your good host; pray that the right may thrive; If ever I return to you again, 111 bring you comfort
Glau. Grace go with you, sir ! {Exit Edgar.
Alarum and retreat withm» Reenter Edgar.
Edg. Away, old man ; give me thy hand ; away ! 5
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en. Give me thy hand ; come on.
Scene ii.] Sccna Secunda Ff (Saena 3, 4. I/„^om/ort,'\ One line, Q,.
FJ. Scene iv. Pope+, Jen. 4. go] be F,F^+.
A field...] Cap. (subs.) A Field. [Exit Edgar.] Pope. ExiLQqFf
Rowe. Another open Field. Theob. (after comfort Qq).
Alanxm within. Enter...] Alarum. Alarum...] Alarum and retreat.
Enter the powers of France ouer the Qq.
ftage, Cordelia with her father in her Re-enter...] Theob. Enter... Q;
Land.Qq. Ff. Om. Q,.
I. tree"] bujk Qq, Jen.
69. defend] Rushton (Lex Scripta, p. 77) thinks that this is used in the old sense of ' to command.'
4. Exit Edgar] Spedding {New Sh, Soe, Trans, Part I, p. 15, 1S77-79) : Sus- pidoas as I am of all criticisms which suppose a want of art in Shakespeare, I could not but think that there are faults in King Lear. I could not but think that in the last two Acts the interest is not well sustained ; that Lear's passion rises to its full height too early, and his decay is too long drawn out. I saw that in Shakespeare's other tragedies we are never called on to sympathise long with fortunes which are desperate. As soon as all hope for the hero is over, the general end follows rapidly. The interest rises through the first four Acts towards some great crisis; in the fifth it pauses for a moment, crests, and breaks; then falls away in a few short, sad scenes, like the sigh of a spent wave. But it was not so in Lear. The passion seemed to be at its height, and hope to be over, in the third Act After that, his prospects are too forlorn to sustain an interest sufficiently animating ; the sympathy which attends him too dreary and depressing to occupy the mind properly for half the play. I felt
ACTV.scu.] KING LEAR 313
[4. Spedding's Division of Acts.] the want of some coming event, some crisis of expectation, the hope or dread of some approaching catastrophe, on the turn of which his fortmies were yet to depend* There was plenty of action and incident, but nothing which seemed to connect itself sufficiently with him. The fate of Edgar or Edmund was not interesting enough; it seemed a separate thing, almost an intrusion upon the proper business of the play I cared only about Lear But, though this seemed to be a great defect, I was aware that the error might be in me ; I might have caught the play in a wrong aspect, and I waited in the hope of finding some new point of view round which the action would revolve more harmoniously. In the mean time, there was another defect, of less moment, as I then thought, but so striking that I could not be mistaken in pro- nouncing it indefensible upon any just principle of criticism. This was the battle in the fifth Act ; a most momentous battle, yet so carelessly hurried over that it comes to nothing, leaves no impression on the imagination, shocks the sense of probabilityp and by its own unimpressiveness makes everything insignificant that has reference to it. It is a mere blank, and, though we are told that a battle has been fought and lost, the mind refuses to take in the idea. How peculiarly important it was to avoid such a defect in this particular instance, I had not then observed ; I was struck only with the harshness, unexampled in Shakespeare, of the effect upon the eye of a spec- tator In other cases a few skilful touches bring the whole battle before us — a few rapid shiftlngs from one part of the field to another, a few hurried greetings of friend or foe, a few short passages of struggle, pursuit, or escape, give us token of the conflict which is raging on all sides ; and, when the hero falls, we feel that his army is defeated. A page or two does it, but it is done. As a contrast with all other battles in Shakespeare, observe that of which I am speaking. Here is the whole scene as it stands in the modem editions. [The first seven lines of this scene quoted, with all the stage-directions.] This is literally the whole battle. The army so long looked for, and on which everything depends, passes over the stage, and all our hopes and sympathies go with it. Four lines are spoken. The scene does not change ; but ' alarums ' are heard, and < afterwards a retreat,' and on the same field over which that great army has this .moment passed, fresh and full of hope, reappears, with tidings that all is lost, the same man who last left the stage to follow and fight in it. That Shakespeare meant the scene to stand thus, no one who has the true faith will believe. Still less will he believe that, as it stands, it can admit of any reasonable defence When Mr Macready brought out the play at Covent Garden, in 1839, he endeavored to soften the harshness of the effect by two deviations from the text. The French army did not pass over the stage, and so some room was left for imag- ining the battle already begun ; and, during the absence of Edgar, five or six lines, transferred from a former scene, were put in the mouth of Gloster, by which some little time was given for its disastrous issue. Both these alterations are improvements on the text as it now stands, so far as they go, but they certainly go a very little way ; and I think nobody can have seen the play, as then acted, without feeling that the effect of that scene was decidedly bad. When I saw it myself, the unaccountable awkwardness of this passage struck me so forcibly that I tried to persuade myself (all other appearances notwithstanding) that the play must have been left in an un- finished state. I had almost succeeded, when it suddenly occurred to me that, by a very simple change in the stage-arrangement, the whole difficulty might be made to disappear. Upon careful examination I found that every other difficulty disappeared 27
314 ^^O LEAR [act v. sc. iL
[4. Speddmg's Division of Acts.] along with it; and I am now quite satisfied that it was the true arnmgement which Shakespeare contemplated. My suggestion has this peculiar advantage and presump- tion in its favour, that it does not involve the change of a single letter in the original text It is simply to alter the division of the Acts; to make the fourth Act close a scene and a half further on, with the exit of Edgar in the passage just quoted, and the fifth commence with his re-entrance. Thus the battle takes place between the Acts, and, the imagination having leisure to fill with anxiety for the issue, it rises into its proper importance as one of the great periods and passages of the story, and a final crisis in the fortunes of Lear. The first Act closes, as the first burst of Lear's rage is over, with the final renunciation of GoneriL The second leaves him in utter desola- tion, turned forth into the night, the Aorm gathering, madness coming on apace. At the conclusion of the third, the double tempest of the mind and of the elements has spent its fury, and the curtain faUs upon Uie doubtful rumour of a new hope, and distant promise of retribution. At the point where I think the fourth was meant to end, suspense has reached its highest pitch ; the rumours have grown into certainties; the French forces have landed; Lear's phrenzy has abated, and, if the battle be won, he may yet be restored; ' the powers of the kingdom approach apace;* the armies are now within sight of each other, and * the arfoitrement is like to be bloody.' Last of all, ' Enter ' (to take the stage-direction as it stands in the old Quarto, in which the divitioni of the Ads are not marhed) * Enter the powers of France over the stage ; Cordelia with her father in her hand;^ Gloster alone remains to ' pray that the right may thrive,' and, as the curtain falls, we feel that the < bloody arbltrement' is even now b^un, and that all our hopes hang on the event. Rising again, it discloses ' alamms and a retreat' The battle has been fought ' King Lou* hath lost; he and his daughter ta'en ;' and the business of the last Act is only to gather up the issues of those unnatural divisions, and to dose the eyes of the victims. As there b nothing in Shakespeare so defective in point of art as the battle-scene under the present stage4Lrrangement, so, with the single change which I have suggested, there is not one of his dramas conducted from beginning to end with more complicated and iiw evitable skilL Under the existing arrangement, the pause at the end fA the fourth Act is doubly faulty, both as interrupdng the march and hurry of preparation before it has gathered to a head, and as making, by the interposition of that needless delay, the weakness and disappointing effect of the result still more palpable. Under that which I propose, the pause falls precisely where it ought, and is big with anxiety and expectation. Let the march of the French army over the stage be presented with military pomp and circumstance, * Cordelia with her fieUher in her hand' following (for thus the dependence of Lear and his fortunes upon the issue is brought full before the eye), and let the interval between the Acts be filled with some great battle- piece of Handel, and nothing more, I think, could be hoped or wished. On review- ing this paper, which was first written in 1839, 1 find nothing to add, except that the stage-direction in the Folio, which follows the mfof Edgar, and which I bad over^ looked, seems to point at an arrangement much like that which I have suggested. Alter both the English armies have appeared on the scene with drums and colours, and gone out, Edmund returns to report to Albany that the < enemy is in view,' and to hasten his preparations for battle. Then follows : * Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colours, Lear, Cordelia, and Soldiers, ever the stage and exettnt.* Edgar, following, leaves Gloster behind the tree, and, promising to return if he survive, exit»
ACT V, sc. u.] KING LEAR 3^5
Glau. No further, sir; a man may rot even here. 8
Edg. What, in ill thoughts again ? Men must endure
Their going hence, even as their coming hither ; lo
Ripeness is all. Come on.
Glau. And that's true too. {Exeunt
8. further\ farther Qq, Cap. Coll. i.i. all, Conu\ all; come Rowe ii. Del. Wh. Glo. + . all, come F.FjF^. all come QqF,.
9. Two lines, Ff. Glou, And,.Jo,'\ Om. Qq. again? Men\ againe men Q,. [Exeunt.] Om. Q,. Exit. Q,.
10. even^ ei^n"Popt-^^
Then we have: 'Alarum and Retreat wilAin,' and then 'enter Edgar* with news of th^ battle lost, and the capture of Lear and Cordelia. These are no < excursions, and, therefore, it b plain that, though all three armies appeared on the stage with drums and colours immediately before the battle, no part of the battle was exhibited even in dumb show. It was to be made known only by the noise * within ;' during which the stage was empty. Whether any curtail^ was to be drawn, I do not know enough of the scenic arrangements of that time to say. But such an interval of sus- pended action, so accompanied with noises of battle in the distance, would have the same effect as a modem inter-act, with an orchestra playing appropriate music ; pro- vided only that it were understood to represent a period of indefinite duration. Con- sidering, however, that immediately after the exeunl of Cordelia, Kent, the Doctor, and servants carrying Lear out in his chair, the stage had to be ready for three armies to pass over with drums and colours, it is easy to believe that the stage-manager found it more convenient to make the next scene the beginning of a new Act, and to use the interval for drawing up his troops.
11. Ripeness] Steevens: Compare //am. V, ii, sro: <the readiness is all.' "Wordsworth (p. 292): In order that it may be really < well' with us when we come to die, Sh..will tell us, no man better, what is the one thing needful. And with what a lightning-flash of condensed thought aud language does he teach the lesson I Birch (p. 425) sees in this nothing but materialism, likening man to fruit which must fall. [Birch has been already quoted once before, and he might have been quoted much more frequently; he goes laboriously through the tragedy, find- ing throughout rank atheism and materialism. Two quotations are quite enough, I think; perhaps two too many. — £0.]
3l6 KING LEAR [ACTV.sc.iS.
Scene III. The British camp mar Dover.
Enter ^ im ccm^tust, wUA drum and colours ^ Edmund; Leak and CoKDSUAt at. prisoners; Captun, Soldios.
Edm. Somcofficers take them away; good g^uardy Until their greater pleasures first be known That are to censure theuL
Cor. We are not the first
AVho with best meaning have incurred the worst For thee, oppressed king, I am cast down ; 5
Myself could else out-fi-own false fortune's firown. Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters ?
Lear, No, no, no, no. Come, let's away to prison ; We two alone will sing like birds i' th' cage. When thou dost ask me blessing, I '11 kneel down 10
And ask of thee forgiveness. So we '11 live. And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
SCEKE III.] Scena Teitia. Ff (Scaena ending incnrd, Q,.
FJ. Scene V. Pope+. The Scene con- 3. IVle ari] fKr'rv Fdpe-h, Jen. Sta.
tinned. Theob. Huds.
The British...near...] MaL The 5. Iam\ FT, Rowe, Pope, Han. Scfa.
British.^ander... Cap. A Camp. Howe. ojm / Qq et cet.
Om. QqFf. 6. out'frown\ ouifrownt Q,.
Enter...Captain, Soldiers.] FT (sofas.) 8. No^ no, no, no^ Ao, no Qq.
Enter Edmand, with Lear and Cordelia 12. and sin^'] Om. Q,.
prifoners. Qq. 13. Aear poor rogues'\ kiore {poor§
2.firsf\ ^yiQu. Rogncs)F^. Jkear—poor rtgnts /^ Sdb.
3-5. fVe^ufoam;'} Two lines, the first
2, 3. their • • • That] For instances of * their' standing as the antece4ent to the relative, see Abbott, § 218. Compare lines 51, 52 of this Scene.
2. greater] Hudson: That is, the greater persons.
3. censure] Steevens: That is, pass sentence or judgement opon them. See HI, T, 2.
6. ont-frown] The Cambridge Editors record an Anonymous ^onjectnre of €ui-face for < out-frown/ which is happy. — ^Ed.
7. sisters] Cowden Clarke: A bitter sarcasm in simplest .words, thoroughly characteristic in the woman of quiet expression with intense feeling.
8. No, no, no, no.] Capell's learning at times so distorts his vision that he sees in these words the refrain of a song by Sir Philip Sidney (voL i, p. 79, ed. Grosaxt), which ' should be delivered by Lear, not perhaps absolutely singing, but with a levity something approaching towards it; as is evident from the line immediately after, which owes it's birth to that circumstance.'
13. Schmidt thinks that the parenthetical '(poor rogues)' of the Ff is more
ACT V, sc. iii.] KING LEAR 317
Talk of court news ; and we '11 talk with them too,
Who loses and who wins, who's in, who's out; 15
And take upon 's the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies. And we '11 wear out,
In a wall'd prison, packs and se6ls of great ones
That ebb and flow by th' moon.
Edm, Take them away.
Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 20
The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven,
14. weUltalk\ wi*UtalkdY^ 16. «/m'j] upm us Cap. Steer. Ec. too\ to Q,. Var. Knt, Del. Sing. Ktly.
15. hses] ioo/es QqF,F,Fj. 19. by M*] biih' Q,. wht^s...MMt\ who/e»,Mko/e Qq. 3i. Two lines, Ff.
wkos,„whos¥^
characteristic. [Bnt the ' them' in the next line shows, I think, the erroneous puno> toation of the Ff.— Ed.]
17. spies] Wa&burton interprets this as 'spies placed oyer God Almighty, to watch his motions." Heath [and everybody else] understands it as ' spies com« missioned and enabled by God to pry into most hidden secrets.' Johnson: As if we were angels commissioned to survey and report the lives of men, and were con* •eqnently endowed with the power of prying into the original motives of action and the mysteries of conduct
18. packs and sects] Johnson: ' Packs' is used for eombituiHom or colUctitms^ as in a /ori of cards. For 'sects,' I think sets might be more commodiously read. So we say, ' affiurs are now managed by a new set' < Sects,' however, may well stand. MOBERLY: Sh. had seen the fall and death of the Earl of Essex, which was probably in his mind here.
ao-25. BacKNiLL (p. 230) : This is not mania, but neither is it sound mind. It b the emotional excitability often seen in extreme age, as it is depicted in the early scenes of the drama, and it is precisely true to the probabilities of the mind's history, that this should be die phase of infirmity displaying itself at this moment. Any other dramatist than Sh. would have represented the poor old king quite restored to the balance and control of his faculties. The complete efficiency of filial love would have been made to triumph over the laws of mental function. But Sh. has repre* sented the exact degree of improvement which was probable under the drcnm- ttances, namely, restoration from the intellectual mania which resulted from the c6mbined influence of physical and moral shock, with persistence of the emotional excitement and disturbamce which is the incurable and unalterable result of passion exaggerated by long habitude and by the malign influence of extreme age.
31. incense] Warburton: The thought is extremely noble, and expressed in a sublime of imagery that Seneca fell short of on a like occasion : ' Ecce spectaculum dignum ad quod respidat intentus open sno deus; ecce par deo dignum, vir fortis con mala fortuna compositus.' ay*
3l8 KING LEAR [act v, sc. iii.
And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine ^e^ ; 23
The good-years shall devour them, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make us weep ; we'll see 'em starv'd first 25
Come. \Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, gtuxrded.
23. <^«] /y* F,FjF^+. 25. w^/] Pope, weepet QqFf.
24. good'years\Q'^^' + * Mob. Sch. good weep^ Rowe ii.
ytara Y^, good yeeresY^. good years '/m] F,F^, Rowe, Pope, Theob. i,
F,F^, Rowe, Pope, Knt. goodQq, good' Han, Jen. Sing. Dyce, Sta. Wh. Ktly,
/ers Theob. gotfferes Han. Warb. Cap. GI0.+, Huds. Sch. vm Q^. em Q^
Jen. gottjeers Johns et cet. ^m F^F^ fAem Theob. u et cet
Mm] em Qq. starv'd} Ff4-, Sch. JIarui Qq et
JUsA] fleach Qq. cet
25,26. ^rv...G7«i^.] Pope. One line, 26. Come^ Om. Q^.
Q,. Two, the fixst ending weepef Ff, [Exeunt....] Theob. Om. Q^
Rowe. Exit Q|Ff.
23. foxes] Ufton [Crii. 06s. p. 218) imagined that there is here an allusion to Samson's foxes, but I believe no one since Upton's time has discovered the point of similarity. Heath : An allusion to the practice of forcing foxes out of their holds by fire. CAfkll; But why a < brand from heaven' to force him and his daughter out of their holds ? This implies, in the first place, diat parting them should be a work of no mortal, and secondly, the expressions are ominous, like those that drop from poor Gloucester [III, vi, 3] ; a brand of heaven's ordaining does part them within a few minutes after. Strkvsns: Compare Harrington's trans, of Armto^ B. xxvii, St. 17 : * Ev'n as a Foxe, whom smoke and fire doth fiight. So as he dare not in the ground remaine. Bolts out, and throu^^ smoke and fires he flieth Into the Tarier's mouth, and there he dieth.'
24. good-yeara] Hamior : The French disease, from the French word Goujot which signifies a common camp-trull. The words Gouje and Goujer were used as common terms of reproach among the vulgar, and the name of the disease was the Coujeres. Farmer : Resolute John Florio has sadly mistaken these goujeers. He writes, *With a good yeare to theel' and gives it in Italian, < II mal anno che dio ti dia.' Stbxvsns : Golding in his Ouid^ lib. iii, has fallen into the same error, or rather the same mis-spelling. * Perfici quid enim toties per jurgia? dixit' which is thus Anglidxed : ' And what a goodyeare haue I woon by scolding erst? (she sed) '— p. 34. Croft (p. 20) interprets it as go9tgers, i. e. men who gouge out eyes. Dycb {Gioss,) : Cotgrave gives, * Gouge ... a Souldiors Pug or Punke; a Whore that fol- lowes the Camp.' C. E. H. Morwsnstow {N, 6* Qu, vol. v, p. 607, 1852) : The usage of this word by Sh. is another proof that he took refuge in Cornwall, when he fled from the scene of his deer-stalking danger. The Goujere is the old Cornish name of the Fiend, or the Devil; and is still in use among the folk-words of the West [See also to the same efiect, John Davies (Al 6* Qu.^ 11 Mar. 1876).] Haluwell: 'Goodyears' is an ignorant perversion, such as I do not think was penned by Sh. Wright : With the corruption of spelling, the word early lost its real meaning, and it is consequently found in passages where a sense opposite to the true one is intended.
ACT V. sc. ill.] KING LEAR 3 ^ 9
Edm. Come hither, captain ; hark. 27
Take thou this note ; go follow them to prison*
One step I have advanced thee ; if thou dost
As this instru6ls thee, thou dost make thy way 30
To noble fortunes ; know thou this, that men
Are as the time is ; to be tender-minded
Does not become a sword ; thy great employment
Will not bear question ; either say thou 'It do %
Or thrive by other means.
Capt. I '11 do \ my lord. 35
£dm. About it; and write happy when th* hast done.
Mark, — I say, instantly; and carry it so
As I have set it down.
* Capt I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats ;
♦If 't be man's work, rU do 't* lExii. 40
36. M' Jka/f] F,F,. tA^aJl F,F . Wh. iAou'it Rowe+, Jen. Sing. Ktly, Huds.
27. Ccf/M Aitker] Come thou hiiher Han.
[Whispering. Rowe. Sch. thou haft Qq et cet.
28. [Giving ft paper, Mai. 37. Marh^^F] Cap. ^ari, /Rowe+,
29. One step /] Andftep. I Q,. Jen, Glo, Sch. Marhe IQqFL Marhf 29-35. One^.tneansT^ Six lines, end- / Cam. Wr.
ing inftructs thee,„..fortunes :,»„is ;.,.. 39, 40. Om. Ff+, Cap.
/wordf.,.queftion,„.meanes, in Q^ 40. I/*t,„man*s] But if it be a man's
32. /^^^r-mtWip^ Hyphen, Rowe ii. Ktly.
33. thy] my Theob. Han. If '/] Walker. Dyce ii, Huds. If 34* thou V/] thout Qq. £r Qq et cet.
36. About.. Jh'} About; and write, 77/] Qq, Dyce ii, GI0.+, Huds
when happy thou Voss conj. Sch. I will Steev. et cet.
write happy"] write hasty Eschen- [Exit.] Exit Captaine. (after </<nvi»»
burg conj. line 38) Ff. Om. Qq.
28. note] Malone: This was a warrant, signed by the Bastard and Goneril, for the execution of Lear and Cordelia. See lines 246, 247, and 253.
34. question] Warburton : By * great employment * was meant the commission given him for the murder; and this, the Bastard tells us afterwards, was signed by Goneril and himself. Which was sufficient to make this captain unaccountable for the execution. Malone : The important business which is now entrusted to your management does not admit of debate; you must instantly resolve to do it, or not. ' Question ' here, as in many other places, signifies discourse^ conversation, Steevens : So, in Mer. of Ven, IV, i, 73 s * You may as well use question with the wolf.'
36. write happy] Wright : That is, describe yourself as fortunate. Compare 2 Hen. IV: I, ii, 30, « Writ man ' ; and AWs Well, II, iii, 67, * And writ as little beard.' And in the same play. III, v, 69, F, reads, * I write good creature.'
38. down] Moberly; That is, so that it may appear that Cordelia slew herself.
320 KING LEAR [Acrv.saa
Flamrish, Enter ALBANY, GoNEUL, RfiCAN, Captain, Soldiers.
Alb. Sir, you have show'd to-day your valiant strain, 41
And fortune led you well ; you have tiie captives Who were the opposites of this day's strife. I do require them of you, so to use them
As we shall find their merits and our safety 45
May equally determine.
Edm. Sir, I thought it fit
To send the old and miserable king To some retention * and appointed guard ; ♦ Whose age had charms in it, whose title more,
I To pluck the common bosom on his side, 50
I And turn our impress'd lances in our ^t:^
Which do command them. With him I sent the queen* My reason all the same ; and they are ready
i
I Flonrish.] Om. QqF,F,F^. 5tir, I thought JU O^).
> Enter...] ^nter Albany, Goneril, 47, 48. To sind.,.ramtiom\ One lino
Regan, Soldiers. Ff. Enter Doke, the in Q,, Ff, Rdwe.
two Ladies, and others. Qq (Enter the 47. send'\ fame Q..
DnkeQ.). tfi, and appointed gmard\Om,(i^
41. Scene vi. Pope+, Jen. Rowe.
I shot^d^ Ff +, Jen. Dyce i, Wh. 49. had^ Ff, Rowe, Sch. hat Qq
Ktly, Sch. Jhewed Q,. Jhewne Qg. et cet.
shewn Cap. et cet. 50. common ^tom"] common hofome
^, well ; you] well you Q^. T^^JP^ eoren bojfom Q,. common
the'\ them Ktly. bloffowus Q.. cowemem bosoms Pbpe+.
43. Who'\ That Qq, GI0.+. on\ ^Qq.
44. /] Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. Sch. his side'l this fide F,F^, Rowe. fKr Qq et cet. 52, 53. queen. My reason aU\ queets
require them'] require then Qq, My rea/on, all Q^ Pope. 53-55* My,.Mssion,] lines end to
46. Sir.,, fi/] /thought fit Tope,l{xa. morrow,,. Jkold, Q<\.
41. strain] Wright: Race, descent; A. S. strfnd^ from strpnash to beget See Mueh Ado, II, i, 394.
43. opposites] See ffam. V, ii, 62.
48. retention] Delius: Confinement, custody; not elsewhere nsed faj Sh. in this sense.
5a bosomj Cafell: The affection of all men generally.
51. impress'd lances] Steevens: That is, torn the lancemen whom we have hired by giving them press-money.
51. in] For instances of *in ' with verbs of motion, see 'come In evil,' Bern* V» ii, 70; Abbott, 5 159.
51, 52. our eyes Which] For the construction, see lines 2, 3, of this Scene.
ACT V. SC. ui.] KING LEAR 321
To-morrow or at further space t' appear
Where you shall hold your session. * At this time 55
* We sweat and bleed; the friend hath lost his friend;
* And the best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed
* By those that feel their sharpness.
* The question of Cordelia and her father
* Requires a fitter place.*
Alb. Sir, by your patience, 60
I hold you but a subjefl of this war. Not as a brother.
Reg. That's as we list to grace him.
Methinks our pleasure might have been demandedi Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers, Bore the commission of my place and person ; 65
The which immediacy may well stand up And call itself your brother.
Gon. Not so hot;
In his own grace he doth exalt I.xmself More than in your addition.
Reg. In my rights
By me invested, he compeers the best. 70
Alb. That were the most, if he should husband you.
54. further\ a further Q,, Jen. Mai. 63. might'\Jhould Qq.
Ec. 66, immediacy] immediacie F,. iw-
55. you.„your'\ we.„our Han. mediate Qq, Pope, Han.
5Si 56. session,.Mme Wr] Theob. 67-69. Not„„.addition,'] Prose, Q,.
fejffion at this time, mee Q,. SeJ/ton at Two lines, the first ending him/elfe, in
this time: we Q,. Q,.
55-60. At,,, place. yWi^^- Lines end 69, addition] aduaneemeHtQq,'Pope'^p
bleed, quarrels „„Jharpes„„ father,,,,. Cap. Jen. Steev. Ec. Var. Sing. Ktly.
place, Qq. [Jharpenejfe Q,). Om. Ff, 69, 70. /n.,.dest.'] One line, Qq.
Rowe, Pope, Han. 69. rights'] right Qq, Pope+, Jen.
58. sharpness] Jkarpes Q, 71. Alb.] Ff+, Jen. Ec. Del. Sch.
61,62. /hold„.6rother.]Oneline,Q(i. Gon. Qq et cet.
64. so far] I cannot think that this is the same phrase as 'You speak him far,* f. e. you praise him much, in Cymd, I, V, 24, although both Delius and ScHMlixr seem to consider the two phrases as equivalent.
66. immediacy] Johnson: That is, supremacy in opposition to subordination^ which has quiddam medium between itself and power. M alone: Compare 'most immediate to our throne,' Ham, I, ii, 109.
69. addition] Title. See II, ii, 22; ffam. II, i, 47; and Sh, passim.
71. [See Textual Notes.] Cavzll : This speech suits Goneril, who might want to
322 KING LEAR [ACT V, SC. ui.
-/?<?. Jesters do oft prove prophets
Gon. Holla, holla I 7a
That eye that told you so look'd but a-squint.
Reg. Lady, I am not well ; else I should answer From a full-flowing stomach. — General, 75
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; Dispose of them, of me ; the walls are thine. Witness the world, that I create thee here My lord and master.
Gon. Mean you to enjoy him ?
Alb. The let-alone lies not in your good will. 80
Edm. Nor in thine, lord.
Alb. Half-blooded fellow, yes.
72. Holla, holla] ffola, hola QqF„ 77. Om. Qq.
Cap. the walls are] iAe walls is Fg. tki
72, 73. Holla»M'SquinL] One line, whole is Anon.* the laws are Anon.* Qq. 79. him] him then Qq.
73. asquint] Rowe. a /quint QqFf. 80. let-alone] Hyphen, Cap. 75. fidl'JUwing] Hyphen, Theoh.
know the whole of her sister's intention ; and Albany's standing by, and enjoying their wrangling, seems better than mixing with it. [I really cannot see any suffident reason here for deserting the Folio. Eleven lines further on, no one but Pope has ever thought of adopting the text of the Qq. — Ed.]
73. a*8quint] Steevens : < Love being jealous makes a good eye look a-sqnint.* •^Ray's Eng. Prcv,
75. stomach] Schmidt : Wrath, passion.
77. walls] Theobald (Nichols's Lit. Hist, ii, 384) : The walls of what? Of her soldiers, her prisoners, and her patrimony? Besides Regan is here in an open camp; had she been in an [sic] house, and given the Bastard the keys of the fore and back gate, she might with some propriety have told him the walls were his. But as the case is otherwise, I suspect she would say: * they all are thine.' [This reading Hanmer adopted.] Warburton: A metaphorical phrase taken from the camp, and signifying to surrender at discretion. Jsnnens : The reading most agreeable to the context, and to the traces of the letters in F,, seems to be this : thy will is mine. Dyce quotes Lbttsom : < Has not the editor of F. altered this improperly ? and may we not read '< Yea^ all is thine?'" Wright: The words refer to Regan's castle mentioned below in line 246. Schmidt : Assuredly this refers to Regan's person, which surrenders itself like a vanquished fortress, a very common metaphor in Sh« ' Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall.' — R. of L. 464. ' The heavens hold finn The walb of thy dear honour.' — Cymb, H, i, 67. • Painting thy ontward walls so costly gay.' — Son, cxlvi.
80. let-alone] Johnson: Whether he shall not or shall, depends not on your choice. RiTSON (p. 172) pronounces this paraphrase by Johnson ' absolutely nnin* telligible.' * Albany,' he says, ' means to tell his wife, that, however she might want the power, she evidently did not want the inclination, to prevent the match.' [Ritson
ACT V. sc. iii.] KING LEAR 3^3
Reg \To Edmund^ Let the drum strike, and prove my
title thine. 82
Alb. Stay yet ; hear reason. — Edmund, I arrest thee On capital treason ; and in thy arrest, \jointing to Gon!] This gilded serpent — For your claim, fair sister, 8$
I bar it in the interest of my wife ; Tis she is sub-contrafted to this lord, And I, her husband, contradift your bans. If you will marry, make your loves to me; My lady is bespoke.
Gon. An interlude I 90
82. Reg.] Baft. Qq, Pope. 87. MiV] Jkfr Q,.
[To Edmund] Mai Om. QqFf 88. yourhans\ Mai. your Bants Yf-^,
To the Bast. They offer to go out. Han. Cap. Jen. £c. tAi banes Qq.
thine] good Qq, Pope. 89. ioves] Ff, Rowe, Pope, Theob.
ZZ' Stay yet; hear reason] Stay: hear Han. Warb. Cap. Knt, Dyce, GI0.+9
my reason : Hart. CoU. iii, Sch. ioue Qq et cet.
84. thy arrest] thine attaint Qq, Jen. 90, 91. Gon. An interlude/ Alb.] Sing. Sta. Ktly, Glo.-f Om. Qq, reading My lady,„GloJler as
[pointing to Gon.] Johns. one line.
85. sister] Sifters Ff 90, interlude] Steev. enterlude Ff.
86. bar] Rowe ii. bare QqFf.
does not put a hyphen in ' let-alone,' and evidently takes < let' in the sense of hin^ drance.'^Y.D.] Delius thinks that < your ' in this line is emphatic ; that not she, but he, will prevent Regan's marriage.
82. [See Textual Notes.] Capell. Edmund's passions are not rais'd so high, nor he so fix'd in his ' title/ that he should want to * prove' it by arms; 'tis the enflam'd Regan, who is ignorant of her forces' dismission, that is pushing him to it, and to an exit for that purpose, which is prevented by Albany. [It is doubtful whether « Stay,' in the next line, refers to Regan's departure, as Hanmer and Capell evidently sup- pose; it may refer to Regan's order to the drum to strike. — Ed.]
84. thy arrest] As far as I know, Wright is the only editor who has attempted to explain attaint of the Qq ; his note is simply ; ' in convicting thee.' But, I fear, this interpretation is doubtful ; it seems to defer the checking of Goneril until after the result of the combat has proved Edmund's treason; whereas Albany's object was to unmask his wife on the spot. This passage is the only one cited by Schmidt {L^x,) under the head of < conviction, impeachment ; ' there is, therefore, presuma- bly no parallel instance, to guide us, of its use in this sense. The chiefest objection that would be urged, Co * arrest ' of the Ff, is, I suppose, its presence in the pre- ceding line. But the argument is wearisome that Sh. never could have used the same word twice within the compass of a few lines. If it be true, Sh. is unlike any writer that ever lived in the tide of time (which in one sense is true, but not in the sense here meant). In arresting Edmund, Albany arrests Goneril, not * on capital treason,' but in her matrimonial plans. Even without the authority of the Ff, * arrest ' seems preferable to attaint. Since writing this, Schmidt's edition has reached me, and in it he says, ' Sh. does not use the noun attaint in the sense of accusation^ and
324 i^ING LEAR [Acrv.scui
Alb. Thou art arm'd, Gloucester; let the trumpet sound 91 If none appear to prove upon thy person Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons. There is my pledge. I'll prove it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less 95
Than I have here proclaim'd thee.
Reg. Sick, oh, sick !
Can. [Aside] If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine,
£dm. There's my exchange. What in the world he is That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. Call by the trumpet ; he that dares approach, lOO
On him, on you, — ^who not? — ^I will maintain My truth and honour firmly.
A16. A herald, ho I
♦ Edm. A herald, ho, a herald ! * Aid. Trust to thy single virtue ; for thy soldiers.
All levied in my name, have in my name 105
Took their discharge. Heg. My sickness grows upon me I
A/6. She is not well. — Convey her to my tent —
[Exit Regan, Ud.
01. One line, Rowe. Two in Ff. 98. Ae is} kes F,.
arm'd'] armed Ff, Rowe, Sch. lOO. the] Ff, Rowe, Pope, Han. Knt,
Let„a<mnd^ Om. Qq. Sch, thy Qq et cct.
92. per$on\ head Qq» Jen. Sing. Ktly, loi. who\ whom Han. Ec.
do. Wr. 103. Edm. A..Mraldf] Om. Ff+.
94, 98. [throwing down a glove.] Mai. 104. virtue] virtues F^F^, Rowe, Pope,
94. prove it] ma he it F,. mahe it F^ Han.
F,F^, Rowe, Knt,Del. Dycei, Sta. Sch. 105, 106. AIL.Jischarge,] One line,
SMrity Anon.* make good Co\\.{lliS). Qq.
96. nVi.T Jir^— Rowe +, Jen. 106. My] This Qq, Theob, Warb.
97. [Aside] First by Rowe. Johns. Jen. Stecv. Ec. Var. Sinjr. Ktly. medicine] Ff, Johns. Knt, Del. 107. [Exit Regan, led.] Theob. Om
Dyce, Glo.+,Sch. /^^j/bii Qq et cet. QqFf. Exit Reg. Rowe.
the verb in his plays is equivalent to convict of high, treason, not to accuse of it. There tan be no reference to a conviction in the present passage.' — Ed.]
94. prove] Delius upholds make by supposing that, according to a not uncom* mon construction in Sh., the noun, proof is to be supplied from the preceding verb,
* prove;' and Schmidt refers to I, i, 58, where love is to be similarly supplied ; he •Iso suggests that make may stand for do^ of which usage there are examples in Sh.
98. what] Abbott, § 254: Equivalent to whoever. Compare III, vi, 112.
104. virtue] Steevens: That is, valour; a Roman sense of the word. Thw Raleigh : ' The conquest of Palestine with singular virtue they performed '
Acrv.saiil] KING LEAR 325
Bnttr a Herald.
Come hither, herald, — Let the trumpet sound, — 108
And read out this.
* CapL Sound, trumpet I* [A trumpet sounds, no
Her. [Reads] If any man of quality or degree wUkin the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund^ supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet; he is bold in his defence. I IS
* Edm. Sound I * \First trumpet.
Her. Again I {Second trumpet.
Her. Again I [Third trumpet.
{Trumpet answers wiMn.
EnUr Edsae, at the third tound, armed, wiik a Tmrnpei before JUm.
Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears Upon this call o' th' trumpet Her. What are you ? 120
108. Enter a Herald.] As in Han. 116, E6m.SotMd I] Cap, ^aSi.So$indf
Om. Qq. After Jirmfy, line 102, FT, Q.. Baft. Sound Q.. Om. Ff+.
Rowe, Pope. After Ao / line 103, Theob. 116, 1 17, 1 18. [First, Second, Third]
Waib. Johns. After tne, line 106, Cap. t, 2, 3 Ff.
lial. Steev. Bos. Sing. Ktly. After 116-118. S^nd /,.u4iain}Cao!&autd
herald I line 103, Jen. Ec. to Her. by Jen.
ScsNB VII. Pope+» Jen. 116. [First tmmpet.] Om. Qq.
108, 109. Come..Jhis.'] One line, Q^ 117. Her. Again f] Againet Q..
108. herald^ — Let,.».jowtdt — ] Cap. Againe, Q,.
heraldy leL„/ound^ Qq^^* [Second tmmpet.] Om. Qq.
trumpet] Trumper F.. 118. Her. Again i [Third trumpet.
Ita Capt. Sound, trumpe/l] Om. Om. Qq.
Fr+. [Tmmpet answers within.] FT
[A tmmpet sonnds.] Om. Qq. (him within F,FJ. Om. Qq. After a
ill. Her. lUeadt} Herald reads. Ft panse a tmmpet... Sta.
Her. Qq. Enter...him.] Enter Edgar at the
III, 112. within the lists] in the third found, with a tmmpet before him.
hoaftQq. Qq. (with Om. QJ. Enter Edgar
X13. he is] he's Qq. armed. Ff.
114. by] at Qq, Jen. Mai. Steev. B08. 120-122. What,...jummons f] Two
Coll. Del. Sing. Sta. Wh. Ktly, Huds. lines, the first encUng gua/iij^ f Qq.
116. Sound] JXNNKNS : The Qq are wrong in giving this to the Bastard. It was the Herald's business. Cafell : The spirit of Edmund's character is here kept up; he anticipates the Herald, whose office he discharges himself.
119. Ask him] Blakzway : This is according to the ceremonials of the trial by combat in cases criminaL ' The Appellant and his procurator first come to the gait 28
326 KING LEAR [ACTV.saiiL
Your name? your quality? and why you answer I2l
This present summons ?
Edg. Know, my name is lost;
By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit; Yet am I noble as the adversary I come to cope.
Alb. Which is that adversary? 12$
Edg. What's he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester?
Edm. Himself. What sa/st thou to him ?
Edg. Draw thy sword
That, if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice; here is nune. Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, 130
121. your qualiiy\ and ptaHtii Q^ Steev. Ec. Var. KnI; GolL DeL Sing. ««/ ptaOty Q^ Jen. Ktly.
Vfhyyau^wAydoym Ktly. 125. WhuX] WhaiQ^
122. Know] O know Qq. 128, 129. 7)itf/...arm.] One line, Qq. 122-125. Aii0«r...^«.] The lines end 130. ihi..^onottrs\ Fbpe. iJtopriui*
iooth.,..mouU,..MJl. in Q.. Three lines, Udgo of my tongue Qq, Ckp. my prim"
ending iooih , ..,canker'bU,..ail f in Q;. lafgif Tke priuiledge of mine konaun
122, 123. iost; By.»..,footA] Theob. (reading line 130 as two lines), Ff,Rowe
l^ by treafons tooth, Q,. ioji by TVea* Knt, DeL Following the Ff, but read
font tooth : Q^ Ff, Rowe, Pope. ing line 130 as one line, ColL Sing. Wh.
124. Yet am I noble €u] yet art I KUy. Following theFf, bat reading as mot^t Where is Q.. IVhere is Q^ three lines, ending u^ primIege..^^o>
125. €ope^ €0^ with all. Q,. cope fessum^^proiesi* Johns. with alif Q^ tope withal Cap. Jen.
• . • The Constable and MarshaU demand by voice of herald, what he b, and why he comes so arrayed.' — Selden's Duello»
121, 122. Your • • • summons ?] Abbott, § 382, removes the interrpgatioii- marks, and considers *I ask' as understood before the whole sentence.
125. cope] For other instances of 'cope' as a traaiitive verb, dgnifying to m- counter, see Schmidt (Z/x.).
126. What's] See Abbott, §254.
130. privilege] Wa&burtonv The charge he b going to bring against the Bas- tard, he calls the < privilege,' &c« To understand which phraseology, we must consider that the old rites of knighthood are here alluded to; whose oath and pro* fession required him to discover all treasons, and whose privilege it was to have hb challenge accepted, or otherwise to have hb charge taken pro eonfesso. For if one who was no knight accused another who was, that other was under no obligation to accept the challenge. On thb account it was necessary, as Edgar came disgubed, to tell the Bastard he was a knight. Johnson : The 'privilege of thb *oath' means the privilege gained by taking the oath adminbtered in the regular initiation of a knight professed. Malone's interpretation seems the best : Edgar says x * Here I draw my
ACT V, sa iii.l KING LEAR 3^7
My oath, and my. profession. I protest, — 131
Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence.
Despite thy viftor sword and fire-new fortune,
Thy valour and thy heart,-:— thou art a traitor,
False to thy gods, thy brother and thy father, I3S
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince.
And, from the extremest upward of thy head
To the descent and dust below thy foot,
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou ' No,'
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent 140
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak.
Thou liest
Edm. In wisdom I should ask thy name ; But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
132. Maugri\Mai^Hre(^, 136. Con9pirani\ Can/j^kuaii Qq« placi, youihl Ff+, Knt, Sing. Consfiiraie Cap.
Kfly, Sch. youth, piaci Qq ct cet. skiii, i/iusfrums] Ulujiirmt F,.
yetOk Coll. (MS). 138. Metol beiuath Qq, Jen. Steer.
133. De^iUl Defpight Qq, De/pifi Ec. Var. Sing. Ktly, Huds.
Ft SpiiiofVo^'\'. foof\ feet Qq» Jen. Steev. Ec
ffUior sword] Cap. vUior* Var. Knt, Sing. Ktly.
Sword Ff'f, Jeo. Ktly, Sch. vUior^ 139. traitor, Say\ tray tor fay (l^,
flDordQn, 140-142. 7Xt!r.../M'j/.] Two lines, the
fin^mw fortune] Rowe. firo first ending fpiritSt Qq.
mw Fortune Ff. fire newfortutCd Qq. 140. are] At Q,. It Q;.
13s. thy gods] the gods Q,, Cap. 142. thould] Jholud Q,.
sword. Behold it is the privilege or right of my profession to draw it against a traitor. I protest, therefore,* &c. It is not the charge itself (as Warhuiton has enoneonsly stated), but the right of bringing the charge and maintaining it with his sword, which Edgar calls the privilege of his profession. Moberly : The words which begin the line seem corrupt. Perhaps the true reading may be, ' I hold it as the privilege of mine honour. My oath, and my profession ; ' that is, < I hold here my sword, to which I am entitled by honourable birth, as well as by my oath and pro- fession of knighthood.'
132. Maugre] Wright: In spite of. See Twelfth Night, III,i, 163. Cotgrave has, ' Manlgri eux. Mauger their teeth, in spight of their hearts, against their wills, whether they will or no.'
132. It is not easy to see why the Qq should be here' |lreferred ; die imme- diate recurrence of the similar sounds is somewhat harsh s strengM, youM, plar^, eminen<«. — ^Ed.
142. wisdom] Malone: Because, if his adversary was not of equal rank, Ed* mund might have declined the combat. Hence the herald proclaimed : ' If any man of quality or degree,' &c. So Goneril afterwards says : ' By the law of arms thon wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite.'
328 KING LEAR [ACTV.s&iiL
And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes.
What safe and nicely I might well delay 145
By rule of knighthood I disdain and spurn.
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head ;
With the hell-hated lie overwhelm thy heart;
Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise.
This sword of mine shall give them instant way, 1 50
Where they shall rest for ever. — ^Trumpets, speak I
\Alarufns. Tiny fight. Edmund falls.
Alb. Save him, save him !
Gon. This is pra£Uce, Gloucester;
144. t&Hgtu\ being Qq. [Alarnms. They figbt. Edmund tome say"] Qq, Mai. Knt, DeL falls.] Han. (subs.) Alarums. Fights.
D]rce,Glo.+,Sch. (/ome/ay)YL some (after Atm/ line 1 52) Ff.Rowe. Om.Qq.
*say Pope et cet. 152. Alb. Save. ..Govu 7%u] Gon.
145. Om. Qq. Of save kim^ save him; This Theob.
146. By rule"] By right Qq. Warb. Huds. Gon. Save him, O save
147. Baeh.,.head ,'1 Heere do I toffe him; this Han. Gon. Save him, save iho/e trea/ons to thy head, Q,. Om. Q^. him; this Jen.
148. hell-hated lie'\ hell haiedly Qq. Save him^ Save him, sir. Cap. derwheim] oretumd Q.. ore* O save him, Steev. Bos. Coll. DeL Wh.
tum'dCl; Ktly.
149. Which,.usnd siarcefy bruise'\ To 152-155. 7:Su...^^^fii/'(ft/.] Three lines, whieh..jcareely bruising Han. ending armes.,j>ppofite,..,beguild, Qq.
scarcely'\ fcarely F,. 152. pra^ice'\ meerepra^i/eQ<\. men
151. they shall} thou shall Theob. fra/iice Jtn. Steev. Ec Var ColL DeL Warb. Johns. Sing. Wh. Ktly.
144. say] Proof. See Afaeb. IV, ui, 143, and note.
145. What . . . delay] Eccles : What was that but the combat ? And how can he be said to ' disdain and spurn ' that which, without delay, he determines to under* take? I propose the alteration of one word, and to consider 'delay' as a noun in- fttead of a verb : * What safe and nicely I might elaim, delay,' &c. Perhaps, do may be understood after ' might well,' and ' delay ' be construed as an infinitive. Possibly * disdain and spurn' may be supposed, as well as the following verb, to have a rela- tion to * those treasons ' in the accusative ; in this way a slight change would render the expression more natural : 'And back do toss these,' &c. [Again, in line 148,] the sense would receive some improvement from reading 'May the hell-hated lie,' &c. Malone: I suppose the meaning is, ' That delay which by the law of knighthood I might make, I scorn to make.' * Nicely' is punctiliously; if I stood on minute forms. Schmidt; 'Delay' is equivalent to heip bach, refuse. Compare As You Like It, III, ii, 221 : ' Let me stay the growth of his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin.'
149. Which] For instances where 'which' is equivalent to as to which, see Abbott, §272.
151. Where] Capell: 'Where' is To where, and the place meant is his 'heart.*
152. Alb.] Theobald (Nichols's Lit. lUust. ii, 384) thought that this was 'oei^
ACT V, sc. uij KING LEAR 329
By th' law of arms thou wast not bound to answer 153
An unknown opposite ; thou art not vanquish'd, But cozen'd and beguiled
Att. Shut your mouth, dame, I5S
Or with this paper shall I stop it — Hold, sir ; Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil.— No tearing, lady ; I perceive you know it
Gon. Say, if I do, the laws are mine» not thine.
153. ormi\ armes Qq. Warn rf+, 157. nam€\ thing Qq, Pope, Theoo,
Knt, Del. Sch. Han. Warb.
waU\ ar/Qq. 158. A^^] nay no Q,. Nay, no Q^
answer] offer Q^ Jen
155-158. Shut»Jknaw iiJ} Plrose, Qq. No tearing, lady;} No tearing.
155. SAuf] Stop Qq. ^Lady, Johns.
156. stopi ftopU Q,. know iti knauft Qq.
stop it,1 stop it fOoU.'DtX.'Wi. [Gives the letter to Edmund.
ffold^ sir] Om. Qq, Pope, Theob. Johns.
Han. Warb. Given to • Gon.' hy Jen. 159, 160. Say...fof^tf\ One line, Q
[To Edg. Wh. Cap. MS.» Prose in Q,.
tainly a conmption either from Amb» or Za/., to signify bath the women, or ladies! Afterwards, in his edition, he gave this speech to GoneriL < 'Tis absurd,' he says, * that Albany, who knew Edmund's Treasons and his own Wife's Passion for him, should be soUicitous to have his life sav'd.' Johnson : Albany desires that Ed- mund's life might be spared at present, only to obtain his confession, and to convict him openly by his own letter. Walker {Crii, ii, 185): Theobald was right in giving the words, 'O save him, save him* (as he properly read), also to GoneriL Halliwell: It strikes me that the exclamations are too passionate to be spoken by any but Goneril. She cries out when she sees him fall,— O save him, save him !-^ and then, turning to Gloucester (Edmund), tells him that he b not to consider this a legal victory, for the reasons that follow.
156. Hold, sir;] Capell: Albany sees Edgar's resentments carrying him to a present dispatch; which it behov'd him to hinder, as well for punishing Edmund with a death of more infamy as for getting out of him by torture or otherwise the whole iniquitous business in which he had been actor. Deuvs, in hb first edition, followed Capell's interpretation, but in his second he adopted the correct view, pointed out by Dyce, who says : < Hold, sir' is spoken to Edmund, « Hold ' being fonnerly a word commonly used when any one presented anything to another Compare ' Hold, therefore, Angelo,' %LC»^Meas,forMeas. I» i, 43; * Hold, my hand,' frc, Jul. Cas. I, iii, 117; <But, hold thee, take this garland,' &c., Ji. V, iii, 85. [For many other instances, -see Schmidt (Lex. s. v. /.) where, however, this present one from Zear b not cited.] Schmidt, in hb edition, compares it to the French, teneM, and adds that ' from the manner in which the letter came into Albany's hands, Albany could not know whether Edmund was acquainted with its contents or not. Those editors who follow the Qq in line 161 should follow them here, and omit *' Hold, sir." *
158. No tearing, &c.] For a somewhat similar incident, see /i^ng Leir» in Ap- pendix, p. 401. 28*
330 KING LEAR [act v. sa iil
Who can arraign me for 't ? [Exit.
Alb. Most monstrous! Oh I-* l6o
Know*st thou this paper?
Edm. Ask me not what I know.
Alb. Go after her ; she's desperate ; govern her.
Edm. What you have charged me with, that have I done; And more, much more ; the time will bring it out Tis past, and so am I. — But what art thou 165
That hast this fortune on me 7 If thou 'rt noble,.
f 60. can] Jhal Qq, Cap. Jen. Steev. 161. £dm.] Bait or Edm. Ff, Rowe»
Ec Var. Sing. Sta. Ktly. Knt, Del. i. Sing. Suu Ktly, Huds. Sch*
fif^f\firiiQ^ Gon. Qqetcet
[Exit.] Ff, Rowe, Knt, Sing. kHcw\ do Jhmo Han.
Sta. Ktly, Hnds. Sch. Exit CkmoriU. 162. [To aa Officer, who goei out
(after Jknaw line 161) Qq et cet. after her. Cap.
160,161. Most...p«^f\ Ci^. One 163. Scbnbviu. Pope+,Jen.
line, QqFf+, Jen. Del. Hnds. Two lines, the first ending vritk^
Most mmstrouti Oht^^ Yl.
Kncwft] Glo. Wr. Mob. Sch. Moft have /] I have Rowe ii-h.
manftrousi O, hnmt^Ji Ff, Rowe, Hnds. 165-167. ' Tu^Jkn.l Prose, in Q^
Mofl monflrous kiwufft Q,. Momfter^ i66. thct^rt\thcuMJiQ^. thmkeeji
iii^rz^ Q,, Pope +, Jen. Mosi monsier* Q^ /4«« a/t Cap. Steev. £c Var. Knt^
cut t humfsi Cap. Ec. Ktly. Mosi moH* Del. Sing. Ktly. Strom t knwfst Steer, et cet.
161. Edm. Ask, &c.] Knight: Why should Albany address the question 'Know'il thou this paper? ' to Goneril, when he had previously said to her : ' No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it ' ? Dycb : These words are manifestly those of Goneril in hei desperation, and proved by Edmund's next speech not to belong to him. Whites These words are manifestly uttered by Goneril. Hudson [following the Ff ] : Albany might well ask Edmund, ' Know'st thou this paper?' for, in fact,Gonerirs letter did not reach Edmund; he had not seen it, Edmund, with some spirit of manhood, refuses to make any answers that will criminate or blacken a woman by whom he is beloved; and then proceeds, consistently, to answer Edgar's charges. CowoeN Clarke: We think that Albany's words, <Go after her; she's desperate,' show that he is intended to say them immediately upon Gooeril's uttering this refusal to be questioned, and then rushing out. [It seems to me, Knight's question is unan* swerable. Albany has distinctly said to Goneril, ' I perceive you know it,' and Gon- eril has brazened it out, eliciting Albany's horrorstruck < Most monstrous I ' Is it likely that he asks her a second time whether she knows it ? and that she should an- swer evasively to this second question after having already virtually confessed her knowledge? <Know'st thou this paper?' is clearly addressed to Edmund, who refuses to know anything of the letter, but confesses that what he has been openly charged with, that he has done. The groan that breaks from Albany in line 160, at the revelation of his wife's abandoned eflrontery, should not be omitted; it Is as needful to the character as it is to the rhythm. — Ed.]
166. on] Wright refers to ' upon,' III, vi, 87.
ACT V, sc. iii.] KING LEAR 33 »
I do forgive thee.
Edg. Let's exchange charity. 167
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund ; If more, the more th' hast wrong'd me.
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. I/O
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us. The dark and vicious place where thee he got Cost him his eyes.
Edm. Th' hast spoken right ; 'tis true ;
The wheel is come full circle ; I am here. 175
Alb. Methought thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee; Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I
167. iM'sl ^ ^ ^P* J^* ^^* ^* '73* ^^' ^] ^ *f^f Q.'
Ktly. I74» 175- Tk\,.her€,'\ Prose, Q,.
charity\ our charUyV^i^t^^^zxi, 174, TJk* Aast] Ff, Sch. Tkom'si
169. th' hasti Yl. thniit Rowe +. Rowe+, Sing. Wh. Ktly, Huds. Thou
thou hast Qq et cet. haft Qq et cet.
171. pleasanti several Mrs Griffith. right; 'tis true] Ed« truth Qq.
vices] vertues, Q,. vertues Q,. right, 'tis true Ff et cet.
172-174. Afahe„jyes,] Two lines, Qq 175. eircle] circled Q^. circhledQ^
(the first ending vitious, Q^; the first 176. [To Edgar. Han.
ending place, Q,). gait] Johns, gate QqFf.
ij 2. plague us]/cffurgevsQq,Thtoh, ijS, IJ^. Zet....,/ather f] One line.
Warb. Johns. Cap. Jen. Steev. Ec. Var. Qq.
Sing, pla^e and punish «xHan. plague ever I Did] I did euer Qq. us ir their time Ktly.
167. charity] Johnson: Our author, by negligence, gives his heathens the senti- ments and practices of Qiristianity. In Hamlet there is the same solemn act of final reconciliation, but with exact propriety, for the personages are Qiristians: 'Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet,' &c. Cowden Clarke : Can we believe that \ the most careful dramatist that ever wrote set down anything < by negligence ' ? Is not the virtue of a magnanimous generosity proper to human nature in all ages and in all creeds?
169. the more] According to Abbott, § 480, the emphasis on this < more ' causes it, in scansion, to be prolonged. Abbott thus quotes and divides the line: 'If m6re | the mi \ re h&st | thou wr6ng'd | (dd) m6.' See I, iv, 334. White : I am inclined to think that this imperfect line is corrupted, and that it was written : < If more, the more thou then hast wronged me.' [I have preferred to print the line exactly as it stands in the Ff. — Ed.]
171. Wordsworth (p. 113): The same sentiment is in the Apociyphal Booh of Wisdom, xi, 16: 'wherewithal a man sinneth, by the same also shall he be punished.'
33^ KING LEAR [ACTV.SCiiL
Did hate thee or thy father I
Edg. Worthy prince,
I know 't
Alb. Where have you hid yourself? i8o
How have you known the miseries of your father?
Edg. By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale; And when 'tis told, oh, that my heart would burst I The bloody proclamation to escape
That follow*d me so near,— oh, our lives' sweetness I 185
That we the pain of death would hourly die Rather than die at once ! — ^taught me to shift Into a madman's rags, t' assume a semblance That very dogs disdain'd ; and in this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings, igo
Their precious stones new lost; became his guide. Led him, begg'd for him, saved him from despair; Never — O fault I — reveal'd myself unto him,
179. /iif^/]/i(f<^m^t/Q..Mal.Ec wiih...,wid Jen. Mai. Steev. Ec Bot. Sch. I know it toeii Han. Cap. Steev. Coll. Sing. Ktly, Dyce ii, Huds.
At beginning of line 180, Han. Cap. |86. kouriy die] hourly bear Pope -I- •
Steev. Walker, Dyce ii, Huds. Sch. At hourly fly Jervis.
end of line 179, QqFf et cet. 189. Tha(\ The Pope-h.
182-190. The lines end Lor(i,..JM.„ 191. Their] The Qq.
froclamatioH,.,.ueere,„.jieath,„„once,„* stones] gems Pope + .
Tags,.uli/dain*d :,„rings, Qq. new lost] new-lost Ktly.
183, 184. kurstl The] burfl the Q,. lost; became] loft became ^.
185. folloufd] fQllowed Qq, Sch, 193. OfauUl^] ( OfauU) Ff, Rowe,
186. we...would] with„..lVould Qq. Pope, Han. {O Father) Qq.
180. Walker (Crit, iii, 283): Arrange,— « I know't | Alb, Where have yoa hid yourself? how have you known | The miseries of yonr father?' Or rather, per* haps, — I * I know't. Alb, Where have you hid yourself? how'known,' | &c.
182. List] Although this is often used transitively, as here, may not i^ be here absorbed in the final / of * List' ?— Ed.
186. If the text of the Qq be preferred, Jennens's clever emendation, which has been adopted by many editors, follows naturally. Dyce, who was conservative, to timidity, in his first edition, adopted it in his second, when he was under the freer influence of Lettsom and Walker. (He was mistaken, however, in attributing it to Malone.) But the text of the Ff is intelligible, as Boswell, Delius, and Wright say, and change is needless. Delius remarks that in the text of the Qq the antecedent to < That ' is to be eliminated from the ' our' in the preceding lines*
186, die] Bailey (ii, 99) thinks this is 'surely harsh language' [»./• Jennens's text], and proposes vie in the sense of contend, strive, struggle.
193. fault] I am inclined to think that Deuus is right here in giving this the
ACTV, sciu.] KING LEAR 333
Until some half-hour past, when I was arm'd ;
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, 195
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him our pilgrimage ; but his flaw'd heart.
Alack, too weak the conflifl to support!
'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief.
Burst smilingly.
Edm. This speech of yours hath moved me, 200
And shall perchance do good ; but speak you on ; You look as you had something more to say.
Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in ; For I am almost ready to dissolve. Hearing of this. * Edg. This would have seem'd a period 205
194. amCd'\ armed Q,, Sch. 205. Hearing of this\ Cm. Q,.
197. wr] Ff, Rowe, Knt, Wh. Sch. 205-222. Edg. Thts..jlave,} Cm. Ff, my Qq et cet. Rowe, Pope, Han.
^m] tAts F^. 205-208. This„.^xiremify,'] Theob.
JUnt^d] /lowed Scb. Three lines, ending /uch,.Joo much,,..
203. more, more] any more more Q^ extremitie Qq. Ending sueh,.jorr0w..,
204. 205. For.,jAis] One line, Q,. extremity Warb.
meaning of misfortune, a meaning which it sometimes bears, although this instance is not cited by either Dyce or Schmidt in their Glossaries.
198, X99. support ! 'Twizt] Walker (Oir. iii, 284) : Point rather < the conflict to support Twixt two extremes,' &c.
202. as] As if. See III, iv, 15.
205. Hearing of] Abbott, § 178 : A verbal noun. * Hearing of^ does not mean, as with us, ' hearing about.* Compare II, i, 39.
205-208. Warburton : This is corrupted into miserable nonsense. We should read it thus : ' This would have seem'd a period. But such | As love to amplify another's sorrow, J To much, would make much more, and top extremity.' Dodd (ii, 134) ingeniously perverts this into a reproach on Edmund : ' The bastard, whose savage nature is well display'd by it, desires to hear more ; the gentle Albany, touch*d at the sad tale, begs him no more to melt his heart ; upon which, Edgar observes, sensibly affected by Edmund's inhumanity, '< One should have imagined, this would have seem'd a period, a sufficient end of woe, to such as love not sorrow, who are not pleased to hear of the distresses of others ; but another (a person of another and more cruel temper) to amplify too much, (to augment and aggravate that which is already too great) would still make much more (would still increase it), and top extremity itself," &c. Nothing can be plainer than this.' Heath understands ' another ' as referring to ' Kent, concerning whom the narration is immediately after continued.' * But another (1. /. Kent) to amplify what was already too much, would make that much still more,' &c. Go^ell's text reads: <but, another; — | (To amplify too-much, to make much more, | And top extremity,) ' | Capell's note 00
334 KING LEAR [act v. sc. uL
* To such as love not sorrow ; but another, 206
* To amplify too much, would make much more,
* And top extremity.
* Whilst I was big in clamour, came there in a man,
* Who, having seen me in my worst estate, zv>
* Shunn'd my abhorr'd society ; but then, finding
* Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms
* He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out
207. too m%uK\ too-much Cap. Steev. 210. worst estati] roorser state Tbeobw
Ec. Var. ColL DeL Dyce, Huds, Warb. Johns, worse estate Knt.
make much more,"] make much, 211. then] now Theob. Warb. Jobos.
more^ Johns. Jen. Sta« 212. tha/] had Theob. Warb. Johns.
20^. came there in] came there Thtoh, 21^, fasten^ cf] Thtoh, fajlened ^.
Warb. Johns. Cap. CoU. Del. Sing. beiion^cT] beUewed Q^ Dyce, Wh. Ktly, Huds.
the passage I transcribe for the benefit of the reader, who is doubtless quite as com- petent as I am, < to endow its purposes with words * : * The verses* fonn was most easy; the change of "would'* into "to" presented sense, and points foUow'd the sense. «'much" and "too much'* are put substantively; and "another" is— /tfi# another^ indicated by the tone and the pause : by which tone too, we may conceive of what is put in parenthesis the sense following; — since you wiU fui me upon amplifying what is a/ready too much, upon making much more, emd topping e»* tremity, take another relation: The period contains a proper reproof of Edmund's unfeelingness.' Steevens thus paraphrases : ' This would have seemed a period to such as love not sorrow ; but — another, t. e, but I must add another, i, e, another periodp another kind of conclusion to my story, such as will increase the horrors of what has been already told.' Mau>ne inclines to Dodd's view : * This, says Edgar, would have seemed the utmost completion of woe, to such as do not delight in sorrow; but another , of a different disposition, to amplify misery, would "give more strength to that which hath too much," Edgar's words, however, may have no refer- ence to what Edmund has said, and he may only allude to the relation he is about to give of Kent's adding a new sorrow to what Edgar already suffered, by recounting the miseries which the old king and his faithful follower had endured. Steevens t Malone's explanation may be just ; and yet it is probable that we are struggling with a passage, the obscurity of which is derived from its corruption. Collier : The disputed meaning seems to be : * but I have yet another misfortune to relate, which will make the rest too much,' &c. Mitford (Gent, Mag,^^, 469, 1844) thinks that a slight transposition will cure line 207, and proposes : * To amplify, would make much more too much,* [^11 commentators, whether they understand 'another* as referring to man or to misfortune, \i2iyt taken 'but' in an adversative sense ; but Wright gives what seems the true explanation ; he says :] * It seems better to take it as qualifying " another," as if [Edgar] said " one more such circumstance only, by amplifying what is already too much, would add to it, and so exceed what seemed to be the limit of sorrow." For this gerundial use of the infinitive, see III, v, 8,* [The unaided Qq text is synonymous with obscurity in almost every sentence.— Ed.] 309 big] Deuus: Ix>ud
ACT V, sc. hi.} KING LEAR 335
* As he 'Id burst heaven ; threw him on my &ther ;
* Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him 215
* That ever ear received ; which in recounting
* His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
* Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded,
* And there I left him tranced.
* Alb. But who was this?
* Edg. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent ; who in disguise 220
* FoUow'd his enemy king, and did him service
* Improper for a slave.*
Enter a Gentlenuui, vnth a bloody kmfim
Gent. Help, help, oh, help !
Edg. What kind of help ?
Alb. Speak, man I
Edg. What means this bloody knife ?
Gent. Tis hot, it smokes I
214. threw him} Theob. threw me 223, &c. Gent.] Off. Cap. Qq, Mai. Bos. CoU. i, Wh. 223. Scene ix. Pope+, Jen.
215. Told the most} And told the Q,. ch^ helpl} Om. Qq, Pope+. ^\^. pm5san£\p%ersttniV^9XMx{Crit. 223, 224. Edg. What kind., Jknifef^
iii, 284). Alb. What kinde of helpe^ what meanes
218. eraek. Twice} Theob. cruche that bloudy knife fQi\.
twice, Qq. 224. this bloody} Ff + , Knt, Cam. Sch.
trumpets} trumpet Johns. Cap. that bloudy Qq et cet.
Ten. Steev. Ec. Var. Knt, Sing. Ktly. * Tis} Its Qq. //'/ Cap.
221. Follou/d} Theob. Followed Qq. 224, 225. ' Tis,. Mad f} As in Steev '85
222. Enter..,] Enter one with a blondie after Cap. One line, ending ^^ Qq. knife. Qq. Enter a Gentleman. Ff. Re- Prose, Ff. First line ends ^tff/.Rowe+, enter Officer hastily, with a bloody knife. Jen.
Cap.
214. him] (See Textual Notes.) Steevens : There is tragic propriety in Kent's throwing himself on the body of a deceased friend ; but this propriety is lost in the act of clumsily tumbling a son over the lifeless remains of his father. Malone ; Kent, in his transport of joy at meeting Edgar, embraced him with such violence as to throw him on the dead body of Gloucester. Dyce (Remarks, p. 232) : Kent's tumbling down Edgar on the dead body of his father is an incident more suited to a comic pantomime than to a serious narrative in a tragedy. The progress of the error here is plain : * him ' — * '«» * — ' me.' Other corruptions may be traced in the same way ; for instance, we sometimes find < thou ' where the sense positively requires < yon,'— > the progress of that error having been — *yon* — 'you* — ^*thou.' White: Does Edgar mean, * Threw himself on my father ' ? the expression being like < Ascends me into the brain.'
223. What kind of help ?] W. W. Lloyd: I find something very expressive of the versatile and vigilant character of Edgar hi this inquiry.
336
KING LEAR
[act V, sa iii.
It came even from the heart of— Oh, she's dead I 225
Alb. Who dead ? speak, man !
Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady I and her sister By her is poisoned; she confesses it
Edm. I was contracted to them both ; all three Now marry in an instant
Edg. Here comes Kent 230
Alb. Produce the bodies, be they alive or dead.
\Exit Gentletnan^ This judgement of the heavens, that makes us tremble. Touches us not with pity, \Enter Kent.] — Oh, is this he? The time will not allow the compliment Which very manners urges,
Kent I am come 235
To bid my king and master aye good night Is he not here ?
Alb. Great thing of us forgot
225. // eamel came '^^Jt;
Oh^ sh^s deadi] Om. Qq. Cap. Mai. Steev.'93, Bos. Sing. Ktly.
226. Who deadf speak, man /] Who man, fptake f Q,. Who man t fpeaki. Q,, Cap. Mai. Steer. Ec. Bos. Sing. Ktly. Whds deadf Speak man. F^+.
228. poison'd^ Q.Ff+» Cap. Stcev. Var. Knt, Del. Dyce i, Wh. Sta. poyfomd Q, etcct
ccnfeues] Ff+, Cap. Steev. Knt, Del. Sch. has con/eft Q^ hath eonftfi Q, et cet.
230. Edg....A«i/.] YAg....Keni sir. (2ifttTpify, line 233), Qq, Jen, Steev. Ec Var. Coll. Sing. Wh. Ktiy.
/Tenf.] Kent, sir. Qq, Cap. Jen. Stecv. Ec. Var. Sing. Ktly.
231. thel their Qq, Jen.
altvel live F,F^, Rowe, Pope, Han.
diad,'\ dead, Q^ dead: Qg. diad;Y^. deadiY^
[Exit Gentleman.] Cam. Exit Gent (after pity, line 233), Mai. et cet.
Om. QqFf.
232. Judgemen/] lufiia Qq, Jen.
tremble,"] tremble. Ff. 333. ftt] Om. Q^
Enter Kent.] Q^ After JRw/, line 230, Ff-f, Cap. After alhw, line 234, Qj.
Oh,isthishef\K\h. Otishe,Qq, Mai. OisthisJheFFJPJF^^'Eiowtt'Popc* Alb. 01 it is he, Steev. Bos. Coll. Sing. Wh. KUy. ALh. 0,isthishefJ&k.'Ec
Coll. iii.
233-235. 04,...flrf^x.] Two lines, &e first ending allow, Qq, Johns. Jen. Ec.
234. [To Kent. Han.
235. Which] that Qq, Cap.
«*3fw] urge F^, Rowe + , Jen. Ec 235i 236. /...night,] One line, Qq. 235. /am] Sir, /am Han. 237 (and throughout the rest of the Scene). Alb.] Duke. Q,. 237-239. Great,..Kentf\ Prose, Q^ 237. thing] things Q^
forgot!] Pope, forgoi^ Q^. forgot.^
232, 233. Tyrwhitt : If Sh. had studied Aristotle all his life, he would not perhaps have been able to mark with more precision the distinct operations of terror ^sApify.
235. manners] Wright z Used as a singular in ^mi. 6* yjvilV, iii, 213: <What manners is in this?'
ACT V, sa ill] KING LEAR 337
Speak, Edmund, Where's the king? and where's Cordelia? — 238 See'st thou this objeft, Kent?
\The bodies of Ganeril and Regan are brought in.
Kent. Alack, why thus ?
Edm. Yet Edmund was beloved ; 240
The one the other poison'd for my sake, And after slew herself.
Alb. Even so. — Cover their &ces.
Edm. I pant for life ; some good I mean to do. Despite of mine own nature. — Quickly send, 24$
Be brief in it, to th' castle I for my writ Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia. Nay, send in time I
Alb. Run, run, oh, run I
Edg. To who, my lord? — ^Who has the office ? send Thy token of reprieve. 250
Edm. Well thought on. Take my sword. Give it the captain.
Alb. Haste thee, for thy life I [Exit Edgar.
339. [Fbindng to the dead bodies. 247. amdon\ amdVljomt^ Han. Jen.
Han. 248. oh^ nmf} O nm, maki kasU
[The...!n.] Qq. (After line 238) Han.
Pjrce, Sta. Huds. Gonerill and Regans 249. Tc^ffice /] One line, Q^Ff
bodies brought out. (after dead, line 231 ) Rowe, Pope, Theob. i, Han.
Ff+. To wkti] To whom F,FjF^+,
240-242. Yet»Mrself:\ Trose, Q^ Jen. £c. Coll. Del. Wh. Ktly, Huds.
241. poisoned'} poyfofted Q,, ha$\ Math Qq, Glo. •¥
244-248. I pant..Mm€,'\ Prose. Qg. 251, 252. fVeli,.xapiain,'] One line,
245. mine] my Qq. Q;.
246. Be brief in U, to the] {Be briefe sword^Ghfel /word ike Captaine^ in it) td th* Ff. Be brief e, int toth* Q^ Give Q., Jen.
bee briefs, into the Q^ Pope + , Jen. 252. Alb.] Edg. Ff + , Jen. Steev. '78,
eastUfformywrif\'l\itoh,{9XL\A,) Sch.
Caftle^for my WriiY^ caftleformy [Exit Edgar.] Mai. Exeunt Ed->
mnii, Qq. Chafile for my fVrit Fg. gar, and Others. Cap. Exit Messenger.
Caftl* formyWriiY^^. Theob. Exit a Captain. Sch. Onu
247. A] tis Q^ QqFf.
246. brief] Wright : Generally used of a narrative, and not of an action. Cbni* pore Rich. Ill: II, ii, 43 : 'If you will live, lament; if dib, be brief.'
249. To who] See IV, iii, 7.
251, 252. Noteworthy is the dramatic reading of Q^ followed by Jemnbms x * Take ny sword. The Captain— give it the captain.' — Ed. 29 W
338 KING LEAR [act v. sa lit
Edm. He hath commission from thy 'wife and me 253
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and
To lay the blame upon her own despair, 255
That she fordid herself.
Alb. The gods defend her ! — ^Bear him hence awhile.
Jti-^nUr Lear, with Cordelia dead in Ms arms; Edgar, Captain, omdMin
following.
Lear. Howl, howl, howl I Oh, you are men of stones I Had I your tongues and eyes, I 'Id use them so That heaven's vault should crack I She's gone for ever 1 260 I know when one is dead and when one lives. She's dead as earth I Lend me a looking-glass ; If that her breath will mist or stain the stone.
253-256. Prose, Qg. Four lines, end- 258. Scene x. Pope+, Jen.
ing Pie,,„iay..Me/paire.,^r /elfif Q,. Hcwl^ Three times in FT, Rowe^
256. Om. Q,, Pope, Theob. Han. Knt. Del. Four times, Qq et cet. Warb. Cap. Mai. you] your ¥^^
257. [Edmund is borne off. Theob. stones'] stone Pope+, Dyoe il. Re-enter...] Dyce. Enter... QqFf. Hads. Coll. iii.
Lear...] Lear with Cordelia in 259. I' Id] / would Q^.
bis armes. QqFf. 260. SA/s] 0,Jhe is Q^ Cap. Jen.
dead] Rowe. Steev. Ec. Var.
Edgar...folIowing.] Edgar, and 263, 264. Jf„.Iives,'] One line in Q^
the rest, return. Cap. Edgar, Officer, -263. or] and Q^Jmu
and Others. Mai. Om. QqFf.
256. fordid] Destroyed. See Ifam, II, i, 103; V, i, 209.
258. stones] Walker {Crit, i, 237) cites this passage, in his Axtide xxxriii: On the frequent interpolation and omission of the final 1 in F, ; so frequent, indeed, is this addition of the final s, that Walker ' would incline to think it originated in some peculiarity of Shakespeare's handwriting, were it not that its frequency varies in different parts of the Folio, being comparatiyely rare in the Comedies (except, per- haps, in the lVinfef*s Tale), more common in the Histories, and quite common in the Tragedies.* The following occur in the present tragedy, as noted by Walker:
• Place sinnes with Gold . . . Anne it in ragges,' IV, vi, 163 ; * To come betwixt our sentences and our power,' I, i, 169; 'Since that respect and Fortunes are his love/ I, i, 247; « He sales my Lord, your Daughters is not well,' I, iv, 49; « And machi nation ceases. Fortune loues you,' V, i, 46; *For your claime faire Sisters,* V, iii, 85 ; and this present passage, to which a similar phrase occurs Afer, of Ven, IV, t, 31 1 ' From brassie bosomes, and rough hearts ofjiints* So too in I^icA III: III, vi, 224 {
* Call them againe, I am not made of Stones,* Of this error in the spelling of stonet Walker candidly says that its * being so often repeated leads me to doubt whether it Is an error at all.'
263. stone] Collier: This is altered to shine by the (MS) with great appear, snce of fitness, but we adhere to the old text as intelligible. * Stone ' and shista
ACT y, sa SL] KING LEAR 339
Why, then she lives! ICent. Is this the promised end ? 264
264. Why^ then she]Jke thm Q^
might be confounded by the old printer, and it was certainly the shine of the glass that was to be misted, or stained, by the breath of Cordelia. We relinquish ^him unwillingly. DsLius : Lear refers to a ciystal mirror. [Bqth Collisr and Singek withdrew their conjectures of steel and same respectively.]
264,265. Is. •• horror ?] Cafeix was the first to point out that < the << horror" of which this sight was the image, according to Edgar, is— the horror of the last day, or day of judgement, calPd emphatically— /la/ horror.' Stsevsns at first thought that Kent meant to ask : Is this conclusion such as the present turn of aflGurs seemed to promise? Or is it only, as Edgar replied, a representation of that horror which we suppose to be real ? but Steevens afterwards acknowledged the excellence of the following explanation by Mason: By the 'promised end' Kent does not mean that conclusion which the state of their ailiurs seemed to promise, but the end of the world. In St, Mark's Gospel, when Christ foretells to his disciples the end of the world, and is describing to them the signs that were to precede, and mark the approach of, our final dissolution* he says : ' For in those days shall be affliction such as was not from the beginning of the creation which God created, unto this time, neither shall be ; ' and afterwards he says, * Now the brother shall betray the brother to death, and the father the son ; and the children shall rise up against their parents, and shall cause them to be put to death.' Kent, in contemplating the unexampled scene of exquisite affliction which was then before him, and the unnatural attempt of Goneril and Regan against their father's life, recollects these passages, and asks, whether that was the end of the world that had been foretold to us. To which Edgar adds. Or only a representation or resemblance of that horror? So Macbeth, when he calls upon Banquo, Malcolm, ^c. to view Duncan murdered, says: ' — up, up, and see The great doom's image I ' There is evidently an allusion to the same passage in Scripture in a speech of Gloster's which he makes, I, ii, 98, &c. If any critick should urge it as an objection to this explanation, that the persons of the drama are pagans, and, of consequence, unacquainted with the Scriptures, they give Sh. credit for more accuracy than I fear he possessed. Steevens: This note de» serves the highest praise, and is inserted with the utmost degree of gratitude to its author. [Although Mason's view, for which a hint may have been supplied by Capell, is probably correct, yet the following note by Henley deserves consideration :] Does not this exclamation refer to the confidence expressed in her letter to himself, 'that — seeking to give losses their remedies-^he should find time amidst the enor- mities of the state, to obtain the full effect of her purpose? ' As these words (sup- posing this to be their reference in the mouth of Kent) were not addressed to Edgar, there is no necessity for considering them as understood by him in their proper sense ; his resumption, therefore, or rather adaptation of them, may not only admit, but even require, a dififerent interpretation. Mason's is an ingenious, and maybe the true one; for, though the passage of St. Mark, which he cites, does not refer to the 'end of the world* (as he might have learned firom the 30th verse of the same chapter)? but to the destruction of Jerusalem and the Jewish state, yet the prediction itself is vulgarly received in the sense in which he applies it. Halliwell; The reference
340 KING LEAR [act v, sc. iiL
Edg. Or image of that horror ?
Alb. Fall and cease. 265
Lear. This feather stirs ! she lives ! If it be so. It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows
:«6S. Edg. Or,.„cease'\ Om. Pope, 266-268. This...feU.'\ Troie, Q^
Theob. Han. Warb. 267. ttfAuA"] that Q^ Cap. Ten, Steer.
Or..Jiorrorr\ Or,.Jiorr<fr. Q.Ff. Ec. Var. Sing. Ktly, Huds. Or^'horror — Johns. O.»,horrorl Cap- is to the unexpected catastrophe, so unlooked for just at the moment when every- thing seemed to promise a happy termination to the innocent and injured parties in the drama.
265. FaU and cease] Capell: These words were made vety intelligible by the action accompanying; the wide display of his hands, and the lifting-up of his eye, both directed towards the heavens, would shew plain enough that it is they who are call'd upon to fall^ and crush a world that is such a scene of calamity • • • [The words mean] Fall, heaven! and let things cease P Jennens tells us, < till a better emendation is proposed,' to read as in his text: *Edg. O image of true honour I Alb. Fair and chaste.' ' Which,' adds Jennens, * is a very natural exclamation on the murder of so amiable a creature.' Steevens : Albany is looking with attention on the pains employed by Lear to recover his child, and knows to what miseries he must survive when he finds them to be inefifectuaL Having these images present to his eyes and imagination, he cries out : * Rather fall, and cease to be at once, than continue in existence only to be wretched.' So in AlTs Wdl^ to cease is used for to die; and in Ham. the death of Majesty is called <* the cease of majesty." See III, i, 7. Malone: I doubt whether this speech is addressed to Lear. Mason: Pos- sibly this might be an allusion to the theatre, and Albany may mean to say, 'Let fall the curtain, and end the horrid scene.* Davies {Dram. Misc. ii, 212) : Perhaps Albany means, * Lower your voice, and cease all exclamation, lest you interrupt the dying king.' This is not unlike to the word * quietness ' in Ant. 6* Cleop. : Char- mian, on the Queen's fainting, whispers to Iras, ' O quietness I ' Delius supposes that Edgar and Albany continue Kent's train of thought Kent asks : Is this the promised end of the world? Or the image of that horror? asks Edgar, Of that fall and cease? continues Albany. ' Fall and cease' are, therefore, to be considered substantives, and in apposition to ' that horror.' In his text Delius puts an interroga- tion-mark after • cease.' Moberly seems to adopt Delius's view : « « Yes," replies Albany, " of the general fall and cessation of all things." ' [Would not the gaze of every spectator be riveted horrorstruck upon Lear and Cordelia? and is it likely that Albany's attention would be so far diverted from the sight as to reply to Edgar's question, which really needed no answer ? If < Fall and cease ' be addressed to Lear, there is a curt harshness in the words which is scarcely in keeping with Albany's character. I have tried in vain to find authority for interpreting * Fall ' in the sense of < Fall bade,' * Give way.' Then the sentence might be addressed to Kent and Edgar, and equivalent to * Make room, and hush.' After all, Capell's interpretation may be the true one ; and yet, an address to the Heavens, unaccompanied by any invocation, is unusual, to say the least. — Ed.]
266. feather] Whalley : Compare 2 J/en. IV: IV, v, 31, 32 :« By his gates of breath There lies a downy feather which stixs noL'
ACT V, sc. iii.] .KING LEAR Z^\
That ever I have felt.
Kent O my eood master f 268
Lear. Prithee, away I
Edg. Tis noble Kent, your friend.
Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all I 270
I might have saved her! now she's gone for ever I — Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Hal What is't thou say'st? — Her voice was ever soft, Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman. — I kiird the slave that was a-hanging thee. 275
CapU Tis true, my lords, he did,
Lear. Did I not, fellow?
I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion I would have made them skip. I am old now,
258. O my\ A wy Qq. Ah I »y Jen. 275. a'hanging\ Hyphen, Dycc.
[Kneeling. Theob. 276. Capl.] Gent. Ff.
270-275. Prose, Q,. 276-280. Did.„atraighi.'\ Lines end
270. youil your Q,. day^,„%tfouId„.now„.,you f,„Jlraight. Q,.
murderers^ Afurderars^V^. mur- Prose, Qg.
tAerers, F^F^F^. murderous Q^. mur* 277. /^aw] /^a Q,. /*wPope+,
drous Q,, Johns. Jen. Dyce ii, Huds.
272. /^a/] Oro. Q,. (Begins line with my good] that vnth my C^^.
273), Cap. falchion] Fauehcn Q,. Fauchion
273. sayst]/ayeftQ^. /^JK^Qa- f^ifi Q.« Faulchion Ff.
Ff. 278. them] him Ff, Rowe, Sch.
274. woman] women Qq. Jen.
270. murderers] Moberly: They have distracted his attention for a moment, and in that moment he might have saved his child.
271. I might have, &c.] Schmidt adopts in his text an emendation, which, he says, was proposed by Emil Palleske : < Ye might have,' &c. * This emendation,* Schmidt adds, 'is so obvious and simple as to need no vindication.' [Does not the preceding note by Moberly reveal that change is needless? — Ed.]
273. voice] Moberly : This wonderfully quiet touch seems to complete the per- fection of Cordelia's character, evidently the poet's best loved creation, his type of the ideal Englishwoman. Her voice was the outward signature of her graciously- tempered nature. Burke's description of his wife is a master's variation on Shake- speare's theme: *Her eyes have a mild light, but they awe you when she pleases; they command, like a good man out of ofHce, not by authority, but by virtue. Her smiles are inexpressible. Her voice is a soft, low music, not formed to rule in public assemblies, but to charm those who can distinguish a company from a crowd. It has this advantage, you must be close to her to hear it.'
275. a-hanging] See Abbott, $ 24.
277. falchion] Wright : Properly a curved sword, a scimetar. In the AutboVi Ised Version of Judith^ xiii, 6, it is spelled 'fauchin.' 20*
34^ KING LEAR [act v, 80.01
And these same crosses spoil me. — ^Who are you ?
Mine cyts are not o' th' best ; I *U tell you straight 280
Kent. If fortune brag of two she loved and hated. One of them we behold.
Lear. This ' a dull sight — ^Are you not Kent ?
Kent. The same.
Your servant Kent Where is your servant Caius ?
2S0. mii €^ M'] nci 9tht Q,. none Coll. iii {^Tis Huds.). Om. Qq, Pope,
t^th Q„ Rowe + , Cap. Jen. Steer. Var. Theob. Han. Warb. This is a duUJ^Mt
Sbig.Ktly. c'thT^ i/tk*rjF^. Ff et cet.
281. ^ra^ hragd Qq. 283. you no(\ not you Qq. flii^«rQq. 283,284. 7}l/MJi>/,...G»Kf/] As tn
282. we\ you Jen. Cap. One line, Qq. Two, the fint i&l^Thii^ a dull stgkf\ Walker, ScIl ending Kent, in Ff+, Jen. MaL Sch.
THUS is a dull Hghi Jen. Wh. Huds.
281, 282. If . . . behold] Capell: In Kent* s speech the two objects of fortune's lore and her hate are, — ^himself, and his master; thej had both felt them, and both in extremity, hence the making her <brag' of what had afforded her so notable a display of her power : of these two, says the speaker, you (the penon spoke to) ^bdiold' one, and I another. Eocles: I think Kent speaks of the object of her ' lore' indefinitely, without intending any particular penon, but considers himself as the object of her * hate.' Malonb : Kent may be only thinking of Lear, the object of her hate. BIason is non-commtttal, and tells us that ' the latter,' whom we now behold, is the object of fortune's hate, but he does not tell us whether < the latter' is Lear or Kent. Deuus thinks it refers to Lear, as does also Mobbrly, ' if the reading is conect' [Justice has scarcely been done, I think, to Jennens's reading here ; which might be improyed, perhaps, by changing, as more in accordance with the ductus Hterarum, you to ye. Thus read, Kent refers to himself, in answer to Lear's question, ' Who are you ? ' — Ed.]
283. Thi8 • . . Bight] Capell changed this phrase to 'This stgAtofunm \ Is a dull sight,' and reinarks in his notes: *The language of the addition is so natural, and the addition so necessary, it will probably have the suffrage of all persons of candour as a good and certain amendment.' Jennems : The context seems to require we should read light. COLUEE (ed. 2) pronounces this change of 'sight' to lights which is also found in the (MS), a TCiy happy literal improvement WHrrB does not hesitate to adopt it, considering the ease with which the old long/ and the i might be mistaken for each other. < Lear's evil day draws to its close, and " those that look out of the windows are darkened." * Walker ( Vers, 80) would divide the lines thus: One of them we behold. This ' a dull sight : | Are you not Kent ? The same; your servant Kent | Hudson : ' Sight ' can have no fitness here, unless as referring to Lear's eyesight. He is dying of heart-break; and, as often happens on the approach of death, he mistakes the sudden dimming of his eyes for a defect of light Goethe's last words are said to have been < More light ! ' Abbott, $ 461 : We ought to scan ' Thb is a | dull sight | Ar6 you | not Kdnt ? | The sime.' COL- LIR& (ed. 3) : Lear has just before said that his ' eyes are not of the best,' and here be complains of the want of light, and ^oes not mean to make the mere observation^
ACT V, sc. ill] KING LEAR 343
Liar. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that ; 285
He'll strike, and quickly too. He's dead and rotten.
Kent. No, my good lord ; I am the very man —
Lear. I'll see that straight
Kent That from your first of difference and decay Have foUow'd your sad steps —
Lear. You are welcome hither. 290
Kent Nor no man else. All 's cheerless, dark and deadly. Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves,
285. He^i a\ ffe^s F,. *Tttm a 290. y<mare\ Kw'rQ,. YouranY^. Theob. Han. Warb. Johns. Jen. YmU^ Pope+, Cap. Dyce ii.
you] Om. Qq. hither] hether Q;.
286. HeUl] He^d Theob. Han. Warb. 291. Nor] ' Twos Pope, Han. Johns. Jen. Nor,, .deadly,] Two lines, Ff.
287. maif— •] Pope, ivmii. QqFf, Sch. else,] Johns. Jen. Del. Qarke*
288. [Looking at him more closely. §be; — Theob. Warb. ^^^r.'QqFf etcet Col. iii. AU's] ah Q,.
289./^rr/] /(/QrQq, Pope. deadly] dead Theob. Warbw
290. Have] Hane F^ Johns.
JbHott^d^ followed (i<\, 2g2. fordone] fore-done Ff. fore*
itepf—] Rowe, Pope, Theob. doome Q,. foredoonfd Q.* Cap. Steev.
Warb. Johns. Jen. Del. Ktly, Wr. step. Ec Var. Sing. Coll. u, Ktly.
QqFf et eel.
< This b a dull sight \ * the poor old king would hardly call the corpse of his darling daughter < a dull sight^ ; he is looking at Kent, whom he hardly recognizes, and com- plains of the bad light which prevents him from seeing clearly. [In the text, for the sake of the metre, I have followed Walker, who ( Vers. 30) suggested that This is of the Ff should be contracted into a monosyllable, as it is in ' This ' a good block,' IV, vi, 181.— Ed.]
289. first of difference] ScHMim' : Compare * That from my first have been inclined to thrift.' — Tim, I, i, 118; 'their first of manhood.' — Macb. V, ii, 10.
291. Nor no man else] Capell : The true force of these words is : Welcome, alas I here 's no welcome for me or any one. [This interpretation is hardly satis- factory, and yet it is apparently almost the only one which the punctuation of the QqFf will yield. Rows's punctuation after * steps,' which is followed above, in the text, seems better. Kent says, in effect, ' I am the very man, and no one else, that has followed your sad steps.' He does not catch either of Lear's low apathetic replies : ' I '11 see that straight ' and < You are welcome hither.' This is also the view of Delius and of Clarke. But ULRia objects to it, and says that not only does it leave < nor ' unaccounted for, but it is false in fact, since the Fool as well as Kent accompanied from the first Lear's sad steps, and that, moreover, ' else ' is unex- plained. Instead of the present text, Ulrici proposes to transpose the ' Nor' and the * no ' : • " No, nor man else," that is, *• No, neither I nor any other man is welcome here ; here all 's cheerless, dark," ' &c. This agrees substantially with Capell, and with MOBERLY, who paraphrases : « Who can be " welcome " to such a scene as this? ']
292. fordone] Capell: Theproprietyof/»«-^<7^»iV strikes at first thought; tho
344 KING LEAR [Acrv.safli
And desperately are dead. Lear. Ay, so I think. 293
Alb. He knows not what he says, and vain is it
That we present us to him. Edg. Very bootless. 295
Enter a Captain.
Cqpt. Edmund is dead, my lord.
A/b. That's but a trifle here.—
You lords and noble friends, know our intent: What comfort to this great decay may come Shall be applied. For us, we will resign, During the life of this old majesty, 300
To him our absolute power. — [Ti Edgar and Kent] You, to
your rights ; With boot, and such addition as your honours Have more than merited. All friends shall taste
293. Aj^t so I tAmk.l So tkinki I io. 296, here\ Om. Pope, Theob. Han. Q,. So Ithinke too, (^ Warb.
294. tays\ fain F,. fayes F,F,F^. 293. greai\ Om. Qq.
/us Qq, Jen. Sing. Ktly. 301. [To Edgar and Kent] BCaL To
is U\ it is Qq, Cap. Jen. Steev. Edg. Rowe. Om. QqFf.
Ec. Var. Knt, Sing. Sta. Ktly, Glo. Wr. Kw, toyour\ toyoH^yottrVoi^'^^
295. Enter....] Enter Captaine. Qq. Jen.
Eater a Meflenger. (after Mm)^ Ff, 302. kaH09trs'\ honor Q^.
Rowe. 303-305. i^/?..j;fr/] As in Pope. Tlie
296. Capt.] Mefi. or Mes. Ff. first line ta^JkaUm Ff. 296-3ia Tkat*s..Mr.'] Prose, Qq.
tense of ' fordone' is imply'd in the words of the next line, and therefore useless ia this. COLUER : Only Goneril has ' fordone' or destroyed herself.
293. desperately] Schmidt : That is, in despair, so that their sonls are lost, with- out hope of salvation. The phrase is thus applied to Bamardine in Hfeas, fir Meat. IV, ii, 152: 'insensible of mortality and desperately mortal,' $. e. devoted to death without hope of salvation.
294. aajra] (See Textual Notes.) Jsnnkns: The sense is, he won't know us when he sees us, therefore 'tis in vain to present ourselves to him.
298. great decay] Capell : < Decay ' stands for— decay'd person or thing, by the same figure that midces 'majesty' the person of majesty. Stebvkns: This means Lear, as if he had said, * this piece of decay'd royalty,' ' this ruin'd majesty.' Dsuus, I think, is right in referring it not to Lear, of whom Albany speaks afterwards as < this old majesty,' but to the collective misfortunes which this scene reveals.
302. honours] Mason : These lines are addressed to Kent as well as Edgar; else the word « honours ' would not have been in the plnrsL
ACT V. sc. iiL] KING LEAR 345
The wages of their virtue, and all foes
The cup of their deservings. — Oh, see, see ! 3^5
Lear. And my poor fool is hang'd ! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all ? Thou'lt come no more. Never, never, never, never, never ! —
305. Oh^ see, see/] Given to Lear by 308. Tkou'lf] O thou wilt Qq, Cap. Han. Jen. Steev. Ec. Var.
306. No, no, no"] no, no Qq. 309. Never] Three times in Qq, Jen.
307. have] o/Q^. Six times in Ktly.
305. Oh, see, see !] Cafell: These words are occasioned by seeing Lear exert himself to embrace the body he lay upon once more, and pour his agonies over it.
306. my poor fool] Steevens : This is an expression of tenderness for his dead Cordelia (not his Fool, as some have thought), on whose lips he is still intent, and dies away while he is searching there for indications of life. * Poor fool,' in the age of Sh., was an expression of endearment. I may add, that the Fool of Lear was long ago forgotten. Having filled the space allotted him in the arrangement of the play, he appears to have been silently withdrawn, III, vi. That the thoughts of a father, in the bitterest of all moments, while his favourite child lay dead in his anns, should recur to the antick who had formerly diverted him, has somewhat in it that I cannot reconcile to the idea of genuine sorrow and despair. Besides this, Cordelia was recently hanged ; but we know not that the Fool had suffered in the same man- ner, nor can imagine why he should. The party adverse to Lear was little interested in the fate of his jester. The only use of him was to contrast and alleviate the sor- rows of his master ; and, that purpose being fully answered, the poet's solicitude about him was at an end. The term ' poor fool ' might indeed have misbecome the mouth of a vassal commiserating the untimely end of a princess, but has no impropriety when used by a weak, old, distracted king, in whose mind the distinctions of nature only survive, while he is uttering his last frantic exclamations over a murdered daughter. SiR Joshua Reynolds : I confess I am one of those who have thought that Lear means his Fool, and not Cordelia. If he means Cordelia, then what I have always considered as a beauty, is of the same kind as the accidental stroke of the pencil that produced the foam. Lear's affectionate remembrance of the Fool, ip. this place, I used to think, was one of those strokes of genius, or of nature, which are so often found in Sh., and in him only. Lear appears to have a particular affec- tion for this Fool, whose fidelity in attending him, and endeavouring to divert him in his distress, seems to deserve all his kindness. ' Poor fool and knave,' says he, in the midst of the thunder-storm, ' I have one part in my heart that's sorry yet for thee.' It does not, therefore, appear to me, to be allowing too much consequence to the Fool, in making Lear bestow a thought on him, even when in still greater distress. Lear is represented as a good-natured, passionate, and rather weak, old man ; it is the old age of a cockered spoilt boy. There is no impropriety in giving to such a cha- racter those tender domestic affections which would ill become a more heroic cha- racter, such as Othello, Macbeth, or Richard III. The words, < No, no, no life,' I suppose to be spoken, not tenderly, but with passion: Let nothing now live; — let &ere be universal destruction; — * Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, and
346 KING LEAR [ACTV.sc.iiL
[306. my poor fool.] fhon no breath it alt ? ' It may be observed, that as there was a necessity, the neces- sity of propriety at least, that this Fool, the favourite of the author, of Lear, and consequently of the audience, should not be lost or forgot, it ought to be known what became of htm. However, it must be acknowledged, that we cannot infer much from thence ; Sh. is not always attentive to finish the figures of his groups. I have only to add, that if an actor, by adopting the interpretation mentioned alx>ve, should apply thJe words < poor fool ' to Cordelia, the audience would, I should imagine, think it a strange mode of expressing the grief and afiection of a father for his dead daugh- ter, and that daughter a queen. The words < poor fool ' are undoubtedly expressive of endearment, and Sh. himself, in another place, speaking of a dying animal, calls it * poor dappled fool,' but it never is, nor never can be, used with any degree of propriety, but to commiserate some very inferior object, which may be loved, without much esteem or respect Malonk : I have not the smallest doubt that Mr Steevens's interpretation of these words is the true one. The passage, indeed, before us appears to me so clear, and so inapplicable to any person but Cordelia, that I fear the reader may think any further comment on it altogether superfluous. It is observable that Lear, from the time of his entrance in this scene to his uttering these words, and from thence to his death, is wholly occupied by the loss of his daughter. He is diverted, indeed, from it for a moment by the intrusion of Kent, who forces himself on his notice ; but he instantly returns to his beloved Cordelia, over whose dead body he continues to hang. He is now himself in the agony of death ; and surely at such a time, when his heart is just breaking, it would be highly unnatural that he should think of his Fool. But the great and decisive objection to such a supposition is that which Mr Steevens has mentioned— that Lear bad just seen his daughter kat^d^ having unfortunately been admitted too late to preserve her life, though time enough to punish the perpetrator of the act; but we have no authority whatsoever for supposing his Fool hanged also. Whether the expression ' poor fool ' can be applied with pro- priety only to * inferior objects, for whom we have not much respect or esteem,' is not, I conceive, the question. Sh. does not always use his terms with strict propriety, but he is always the best commentator on himself, and he certainly has applied this term in another place to the youngs the beauHful^ and innocent Adonis, the object of somewhat more than the esteem of a goddess : ' For pity now she can no more detain him ; The poor fool prays her that he may depart.' In Old English a fool and an innocent were synonymous terms. Hence, probably, the peculiar use of the expression < poor fool.' In the passage t>efore us. Lear, I conceive, means by it tUar^ tender^ helpless innocence I Ramn: My hapless, innocent Cordelia. As You Luci It [Gent. Mag. Ix, 402) imagines < poor soul' to be the original phrase. Knight: ' Poor fool ' might indeed be here employed something like the ' excellent wretch ' of Othello; but we cannot avoid thinking that Sh., in this place, meant to express a peculiar tenderness, derived from Lear's confused recollection of his regard for his poor follower, the Fool. In the depth of his distress during the storm Lear says: ' Poor Ibol and knave, I have one part in my heart that's sorry yet for thee.' And now, when the last and deepest calamity has fallen upon him, his expressions shape themselves out of the indistinctness with which he views the present and the past, and Cordelia b his * poor fool.' Collier: It may be urged that, as Cordelia had been hanged^ the poet would have probably chosen some other dea*h for the Fool, in order to render the matter quite dear, supposing Lear to have allowed his thongfiti
ACrv.scii.] KING LEAR 347
Pray you, undo this button. Thank you, sir. 310
Do you see this ? Look on her, — ^look, — ^her lips, —
310. Pray y ou\ pray Ci^, 311. ilwi.—A^ /f>j,—] Johns, (subs.) 3x0-312. sir, Do,.JAeref] fir^ O9 o, Looki her lips^ F,. hoke on her lips^
Of o, Q,. Jir^ O, o, o^ o, o. Q,. F,. looh on her lips, FjF^, Rowe, Pope,
311. on her,"] onherfF^. Theob. Han. Warb. Cap. Ec.
thus to wander from his daughter, lying dead before him. On the other hand, if Sh. did not mean to revert to the Fool, he has certainly omitted to account for a promt* nent and interesting character. Ve&planck : With this customary and familiar use of the phrase, when the whole interest of the scene is fixed on Cordelia's death, and Lear himself, in the same breath addressing her [* And thou no breath at all ? Thou'lt come no more'), it seems to me evident that it is to Cordelia alone that the phrase can allude. Hudson : These words refer, not to the Fool, but to Cordelia, on whose lips the old king is still intent, and dies while he is searching there for indications of life. W. W. Lloyd: I have no doubt that Sh. intended the Fool should be re- membered in Lear's last exclamation, though no more maybe meant than that in his wandering state he confuses the image of the Fool with that of his daughter in his arms. Halliwsll : ' Poor fool ' was formerly a common phrase of endearment. So Julia, speaking of Proteus, says: * Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him?' The expression occurs as one of endearment, applied to a woman, in Cokain's TVappolin Suppo^d a Prince, 1658: * — You saw how I was empIoyM; I could not leave the poor fool, — ^your lordship sees she loves me, and protest her labour is not lost' The old king is evidently thinking of his daughter, and knows the manner of her death, nay, kills the slave that did it, and here he exclaims immediately after calling her poor fool, unbutton here, look on her, &c. I do not think that it is even necessary to allow for the broken thought and incoherent expression of a madman, and imagine that his ideas of who is the victim, hb daughter or his Fool, are confused in his crushed intellect. Dblhjs : Cordelia is here referred to. Chambers : Not the Fool, but Cordelia. Cowden Clarke : A term of endearment applied by Lear to his dead daughter. We do not believe that Sh. would have made the bereaved father recur for even one moment to any thought of other loss than the one before him^- his murdered daughter. Furthermore, if Sh. had intended to denote a tender remi- niscence of the Fool on the part of hb old master, and to take an opportunity of definitely stating the mode of the Fool's death, we do not think that he would have made this the opportunity, or hanging the means by which the lad came to his end; he would not have reserved Lear's mention of the faithful jester until a time when the father's whole soul is engrossed with but one idea, nor would he have committed the dramatic tautology, as well as the dramatic injury to tragic effect, of making the Fool, as well as Cordelia, *hang'd.' MoBERLY : < My poor darling.' He means Cor- delia, as the next words plainly show. Wright: Cordelia; not the Fool. See Much Ado, II, i, 326 : < I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care.* Dycs ( (?/«».): That is, Cordelia. WHrrs and STAUNTON are silent. [Very reluc- tantly I have come to the conviction that this refers to Cordelia. — Ed.]
310. button] The Quarterly Review (April, 1833, p. 197) : Scarcely have the spectators of this anguish had time to mark and express to each other their convic* tion of the extinction of his mind, when some physical alteration, made dreadfully
348 KING LEAR [ACTV,sc.iu.
Look there I — ^look there I \pies.
Edg. He faints. — My lord, my lord I 312
Kent. Break, heart ; I prithee, break I
Edg. Look up, my lord.
Kent. Vex not his ghost Oh, let him pass ! he hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world 3 1 $
312. [Dies.] H edis. F,. He dyes. Pope.
F^ He dies. F F,. Om. Qq. 314-316. Vex,,.Jonger,'\ Lines end
faints.'\ Johns, faints^ QiFf+« pafff,,„wracke,.,.ionger, Qq.
faints Q,. 314. hates html hates him much (^
Afy iordf my l9rdf\ my lord. Glo. Wr.
F,+. 315. rtfr*]wY?ri/QqF,F,. wrackT^
313. Kent.] Lear. Qq. tough^ rough QjQy Pope+, Cap. f//,]v/QqF,. A?F,F,F^,Rowe,
visible, urges Albany to cry out, * Oh see, see I ' The intense excitement which Lear had undergone, and which lent for a time a supposititious life to hb enfeebled frame, gives place to the exhaustion of despair. But even here, where any other mind would have confined itself to the single passion of parental despair, Sh. contrives to indicate by a gesture the very train of internal physical changes which are causing death. The blood gathering about the heart can no longer be propelled by its enfeebled impulse. Lear, too weak to relieve the impediments of his dress, which he imagines cause the sense of suffocation, asks a bystander to ' undo this button.'
313. Break . . . break!] (See Textual Notes.) WHrrs: I am not sure that this speech does not belong to Lear. The stage-direction ' He dies,' at the end of Lear's foregoing speech, may be only a timely warning to the prompter, such as is con- stantly to be found in our old dramas. Possibly Lear was supposed to expire during Kent's next speech.
315. tough] Dyce (Rem, p. 232): Read, by all means, as Pope did, < rough.' [Which Dyce, by no means, read when he came to print his edition.] Collier (ed. 2) : ' Tough ' does not so much apply to the ' world ' as to the < rack,' on which Lear was not to be stretched out longer. White : I am almost sure that Sh. wrote < rough world.' Cambridge Editors : Capell reads rough in his text, believing that he had the authority of the first Quarto [Q,] for it ; but in his own copy, and that of the Duke of Devonshire, the reading is plainly 'tough,' though the *t' is broken. [My copy of Q, once belonged to Capell, and was apparently his working copy, for It bears throughout, in Capell's painfully neat and painfully illegible handwriting, a tolerably thorough collation with Q,. Now, singularly enough, in this copy the first letter in < tough ' is so much like an r (albeit a thick, clumsy one) that it would not occur to any one, at first sight, that the word was other than rough. It is only after close scrutiny, and a comparison with other imperfect letters, that it would enter any one's imagination that perhaps the word might be < tough.' Capell evidently read it rough, and so did the printer of Jane Bell's Quarto, who followed this edition and not Q, ; I have, therefore, felt justified in recording it as such in the Textual Notes. — Ed.J
4cr V, sc iii.] ^/NG LEAR 349
Stretch him out longer.
Ed£^. He is gone indeed 3^^
Kent The wonder is he hath endured so long; He but usurp'd his life.
Alb. Bear them from hence. — Our present business Is general woe.— [7b Kent and Edgar\ Friends of my soul,
you twain 320
Rule in this realm and the gored state sustain.
Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go ; My master calls me, I must not say no.
Edg. The weight of this sad time we must obey, Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. 325
316. He\ O hi Qq, Jen. Steev. £c Q,.
Var. Sing. Ktly. 323. ealh tne^ /] caU, and/Qi, Jen.
319. Alb.] Duke. Qq. Steev. Ec. Var. Sing. Ktly.
320. Is] Is to Qq. [Dyes. F^ Dies. F^F^, Rowe, [To Kent and Edgar] Johns. Pope, Theob. Warb. Johns. Om. QqF^
321. realm\ ki$igdome Qq. 324. Edg.] Ff, Rowe, DeL Sch. gored\goi^d'PL goardCi^. good Duke. Qq. Alb. Pope et cet
321. sustain] Jbnn£NS : The play would end best here.
322, 323. Jennens : Kent only declines the share in the govemmeni on account of his age. How unexpectedly and awkwardly would he die, after saying only, he had a journey shortly to go, and without bidding farewell^ or discoYering any symp- toms of death. Malonb: Kent on his entrance in this scene says: ' I am come To bid my king and master aye good night,' but this, like the present speech, only marks the despondency of the speaker. The word * shortly' decisively proves that Sh. did not mean to make him die on the stage. Collikr : The stage-direction in F^ is struck out by the (MS). Moberly: * A journey' to another world. So Horatio wishes to drink the remainder of the poison nntil hindered by the dying Hamlet. Kent, like Horatio, has < much of the Roman in him.' Collier (ed. 3) : The con- cluding Scene of this noble tragedy is most imperfectly given in all impressions, whether Quarto or Folio. Possibly it was acted differently at different times and theatres; but, of course, this is only conjecture. Schmidt: 'My master' is Lear. It would be hard to find in Sh. a reference to God as ' master.'
324. Edg.] Theobald : This speech is given, in the Ff, to Edgar. Being a more favourite actor than he who performed Albany, in spite of decorum it was thought proper he should have the last word. Walker (Crit, ii, 185) : It seexns to me just possible,— yet hardly so, — that the Folio may be right. HalliwelL: This speech is rightly assigned in the Qq to Albany, not to Edgar, as in the Ff, Albany being the person of greatest authority in the scene. It likewise appears to be intended as a gentle reproof to Kent* s despairing speech, telling him that < the weight of this sad time we must obey.' Had Kent died, some sensation would have been created, and his death not passed over as a piece of stage-show that is expected; and the speech of Albany would have lost its pertinence. Schmidt: This speech clearly bdongs
30
350 AT/A^C? LEAR [act v. SC. iiL
The oldest hath borae most We that are young 326
Shall never see so much^ nor live so long.
\Exeunt^ with a dead march.
326. hath^ haue Qq. 327. nor live] live ^er Han. tome] bom F,F^. bomue Q,. [Exettnt...inarch.] Om. Qq.
to Edgar, from whom a reply to Albany is due. Moreover, the substance of what he says, viz. that for the moment he is incapable of saying what he onght, by no means befits Albany, who, during this last tragic scene, has not for a moment lost sight of public interests. On the other hand, the last two lines are in character jf spoken l^ the Duke, to whom dramatic etiquette gives the last word. Perhaps the true order might be restored by dividing these last few lines between them.
326,327. Jennkns: The two last [sic\ lines, as they stand, are silly and false; and are only inserted that any one may alter them for the better if they can. Hanmer has not made them a jot better. Capell thinks that Albany intimates that his life will be shortened by the terrible scenes he has lived through. Eoclbs: The sense of thb seemingly childish sentence would be somewhat mended by reading * and live so long.' Dycs (ed. 2) s The last line of this speech is certainly obscure in meaning.
327. MoBERLY : Age and fulness of sorrows have been the same thing to the unhappy Lear; his life has been prolonged into times so dark in their misery and so fierce in their unparallel t ingratitude and reckless passion, that even if we live as long as he has (which will hardly be), oar existence will never light on days as evil u those which he has seen.
APPENDIX
APPENDIX
THE TEXT
In the Registers of the Stationers Company/ for the year 1594, we find the fol* lowing entry :
riiijto Mt ittaij. Adam Iolip.| Entred alfoe for his Copie vnder th andes of bothe the wardens
Edward White.|. a booke entituled | The mojle famous Chronicle hijlorye of\sx%% hinge of England and his Ihree Daughters • • . yj** C.].
Of this book no copy is known to be extant ; this is the only trace we have of it. Possibly but few copies were issued ; Edward White was not, at that time, a prominent stationer. If we were certain that this < booke * was a drama we should be at liberty to conjecture that it is the original on which Shakespeare founded his tragedy, and that it has eluded our search out of the sheer perversity of that ' nature of things ' which Porson was wont to damn, and which seems to envelope in a thick -mist everything pertaining to Shakespeare. But we know nothing more about it than is contained in the foregoing entry, and in this ignorance we get what comfoit we may from the supposition that it is not really lost, but re-appears in the follow ing entries : f
8 moij [1605] Simon Stafford Entred for his Copie vnder th andes of the Wardens A booke called ^the Tragecall hijlorie of hinge lb/r and his Three Daughters ^e.* As it was latelie A^ed vj^
John Wright | Entred for his Copie by aHignement from Simon Stafford and by confent of Mailer Leake, The Tragicall hi/lory of kings LEiRB and his Three Daughters \ Provided that Simon Staf* ford (hall haue the printinge of this booke 1 1 • . • . vj**
[It is evident that King Lear was printed by S. Stafford before the 8th May, 1605, though not entered until it was assigned on that date. — Arber.]
A few copies of this ' booke ' are extant. It is perhaps worth noting that the title which they now bear does not correspond exactly with that in the registered entry. The present title, as given by Capell (vol. i, p. 55), is as follows: * The | True Chronicle Hi- | (lory of King Leir, and his three | daughters, Gonorill, Ra- gan, I and Cordelia. | As it hath bene divers and fundry | times lately adled. | Lon- don, I Printed by Simon Stafford for John | Wright, and are to bee fold at his (hop at I Chrifles Church dore, next Newgate- | Market, 1605.'
• Arbbr's Transcript, il, 649. f liid,, lil, 289.
30* X 353
354 APPENDIX
In the Stationers' Registers it is styled « The Tragicall hiftory •/ on its paUished title-page, it is called ' The Trne Chronicle Hiflory.' Now although the entries ia the Register do not assume to give complete or exact titles (enough merely of the titles was recorded to identify the source whence came the various sums of money which were received by the Wardens), yet the use of the word • Tragicall * seems not altogether purposeless, especially when the assertion is added : » As it was lately * acted.' It may be that Stafford looked more to the body of the drama than to the mere ending, in which case he was certainly justified in calling it a < tragicall hiftory,' and as he was under no obligation to adhere afterward to the description given to the Warden, he may have described it, at the moment, according to its most characteristic feature. Still Malone and others scent fraud here, and Stafford has' been accused of double-dealing, in that he called his 'booke' one thing on the eighth of May, and another thing when it was actually presented to the public ; in other words, as though his first intention were to deceive the public by calling that a tragedy which was no tragedy, but a comedy of a rarely felicitous ending, and that afterward that deception was abandoned as too palpable. Now if .at this very time, the eighth of May, 1605, another play was acting, whose hero was Lear, one which was highly popular and at the same time a genuine tragedy, a desire on the part of Stafford to beguile purchasers into the belief that his 'booke' was the popular tragedy would perhaps explain his use of the word < tragical ' and the refer- ence to its being ' lately acted.' If this conjecture, hardly more than ' gracious fool- ing' at the best, be worth anything, we may get a hint from it of the date of the composition of Shakespeare's L^ar.
Two years and a half after the date of this entry of King Leir^ we find the follow- ing in the Stationers' Registers:*
26 ISoormbrif [1607] Nathaniel Batter Entred for their copie vnder th andes of Sir George Buck John Bueby knight and Th wardens A booke called. Mafter William
Shakespeare his * kijtorye of Kinge lbar ' asyt was played before the kinges maUJtU at Whitehall vppon Sain/l Stephens night [a6 December] at Chrijtmas La^ by his maie/lies fer* vantes playinge v/ually at the < Globe^ on the Bank/yde, yj<l
Here, then, we have our first genuine Quarto edition of JCing Lear. In passing, it may be remarked that this entry, like the generality of entries at about this same time, is fuller in its description than those during Queen Elizabeth*s reign, an indi* cation, according to Arber, of the stricter censorship of the press; in confirmation whereof, we see that it was necessary to cite the authority for the license not only ol the Wardens, but also of Sir George Buck, the Master of the Revels.
When the Quarto was published, in the next year, it bore the following title:
M. William Shak-fpeare : | HIS \ True Chronicle Hiflorie of the life and | death of King LEAR and his three | Daughters. | IVith the vn/ortunate life ^Edgar, fonne \ and heire to the Earle of Glofter, and his | fullen and affumed humor of I Tom of Bedlam i\Asii was played before the Kings Maieftie at WkUehali upon I S. Stephans night in Ckrijhnas ffollidayes. \ By his Maiefties fentants playing vfually «t the Gloabe | on the Bancke-fide. | LONDON. \ Printed for Nathaniel Butter^ and are to be fold at his ihop in Pauls \ Church-yard at the figne of the Fide Bull neere | S^. Aujtins Gate. 1608. |
• Ausr's Tyatueripi, iii, 366.
THE TEXT 355
In the original title-page ' M. William Shak-fpeare' is in much larger type than any other words on the page; 'moreover/ says Collier, 'we have it again at the
• head of the leaf on which the tragedy commences, " M. William Shake-fpeare, his
• hiftory of King Lear." This peculiarity has never attracted sufficient attention,
• and it belongs not only to no other of Shakespeare's plays, but to no other pro-
• duction of any kind of that period which we recollect. It was clearly intended to ' enable purchasers to make sure that they were buying the drama which <' M. Wil-
• Ham Shake-fpeare " had written upon the popular story of King Lear.'
Were it not for the entry in the Stationers' Registers we should be unable to fix the date of * S. Stephans night in Chriflmas HoUidayes ;' as it is, however, we know that it was the twenty-sixth of December, 1606, — a date which should be bom a in mind.
This, however, is not the only edition published by N. Butter. In this very same year, 1608, he issued a second edition, with the following title :
M. "V^lliam Shake-fpeare, | HIS \ True Chronicle Hiftory of the life | and death of King Lear^ and his | three Daughters, \ IVith the vnfcrtunate life of Ed- gar, I fonne and heire to the Earle of Glocejter^ and | his fulien and ajfutned humour of TOM | of Bedlam. | As ii was plaid before the Kings Maiefty at White-Hall, vp- | pon S, Stephens night, in Chriflmas Hollidaies, \ By his Mai- efUes Seruants, playing vfuaily at the | Globe on the Baneh-Jide. \ Printed for Nathaniel Butter. \ 1608. |
As will be seen, the titles of these two editions are almost identical; the only differ- ence, omitting varieties in type, lies in the imprint In the second edition there is no allusion to the shop at the sign of the < Pide Bull.'
Wlien we turn to the contents, we find that it is not alone on the title-pages that these two editions vary. There are throughout such differences of spelling, punc- tuation, pagination, and of text, as suffice to make them two distinct editions.
For the sake of convenience I shall refer to the former as the Pide Bull edition, or Q, ; to the latter, as the N, Butter edition, or Q,. And yet the precedence of one over the other, in point of time, is inferential merely ; the evidence is only circum- stantial, direct evidence there is none ; and so shifting are the grounds on which we have to decide, that those keen and practised critics, Messrs Clark and Wright, at the conclusion of the collation of the two texts, as recorded in the Cambridge Edition^ confess, in their Preface, that they believe, after all, that edition to be the later, which throughout their foot-notes they had cited as the earlier. In fact, I think it would be difficult to find in all Bibliography a puzzle greater than that which Nathaniel Butter has bequeathed to us. What complicates the puzzle and makes it almost ' too intrinse to unloose,' is that we have to choose not between two well-defined and separate editions, but between all the copies of the two editions. Mr Halliwell-Philupps says, that no two of the twelve copies of the Pide Bull edition that survive are exactly alike ! Two copies of the same edition will be found to vary, errors in one will be corrected in the other, and errors in the latter corrected in the former. This confusion is well illustrated in the following extract from the Preface of the Cambridge Edition. Be it remembered that * Q,' of the Cambridge Editors is what I have called Q,, or the N. Butter edition; their ' Q,' is my Q,, or Pide Bull edition.
< The differences in various copies of Q^ are accounted for by supposing that the ' corre^ons were made before the sheets were all worked off, and that the correAed
356 APPENDIX
* and nncorredled sheets were bound up indiscriminately. It will be observed that ' the readings of the uncorre^ed sheets of Q^ agree for the most part with those of ' Qf, and this led us to the conclusion which had previously been arrived at by Ca-
* pell and also by J. P. Kemble, that the edltfon which we have called Q^ was the
* earlier of the two printed in the same year. But upon collating a copy of Q, in 'the Bodleian, which we have called Q^ (Bodl. i), we found evidence which points ' to an opposite conclusion. In Kent's soliloquy (11, ii, i6o) that copy, as will be ' seen in our notes, reads,
nothing almost sees my rackla Bat miserie, &c.
< which of course is an accidental corruption, by displacement of the type, of *< my«
* rackles " (f. e, « miracles "), the true reading. In the corredbd copies of Q, this b
* altered, apparently by the printei's conje<5lure, to *' my wracke," which is also the
* reading of Q,. Throughout the sheet in which this occurs the readings of Q,
* agree with the corre<5led copies of Q,, and had it not been for the instance quoted, ' we might have supposed that the corre<5tions in the latter were made from Q^.
* But the corruption « my rackles " for " miracles '* most have come from the orig- ' inal MS, and « my wracke '* is only a conjedbiral emendation, so that the order of
< succession in this sheet, at least, appears to be the following: First the uncorre^ed
< copy of Q;, then the same corrected, and lastly Q,. On the other hand it is re*
< markable that Q,, if printed from Q. at all, must have been printed from a copy 'made up, with the exception just mentioned from II, i, 128 to II, iv, 133, and an* « other containing from IV, vi, 224 to V, iii, 64, of uncorredled sheets. Another
* hypothesis which might be made, is that Q, and Q^ were printed from the same
* manuscript, and that the printer of Q, corrupted "miracles'* into "my wracke,"
< while the printer of Q, made it '* my rackles," which was afterwards Altered by a
* reference to Q,.'
In Elus's Early English Pronunciation (i, 217, foot-note), a communication from Mr Aldis Wright is quoted, which states quite as conclusively the conviction of the Cambridge Editors, that they had been misled in their chronological order of the Qq: 'We are now convinced that this edition [the Pide Bull edition, which is cited ' as Qa in the foot-notes of the Cam. ed. J was earlier than the one in the same year,
* whidi we have called Q,. These copies of Q^ (so-called) differ from each other in 'havmg some of them been corrected while passing through the press. The earliest
* of these which we have met with is one of the two copies in the Bodleian, and we *call it for distinction sake Q^ (Bodl. i). This has the reading three snyted: but
* all the other copies of the sanie edition read three shewted. I suppose, therefore,
* that while the edition was in course of printing the error was discovered, and the
* correction communicated verbally to the compositor, who inserted it according to
* his own notions of spelling. It is not a question between the readings of two dif" *ferent editions, but between an uncorrected copy and a corrected copy of the sanie ' edition. The later Quartos follow the corrected copy, but their testimony is of no
* value, because their reading is merely a reprint.' [See also II, ii, 14.]
I am inclined to think that the true solution of the puzzle is to be found, as has been suggested, in the blunders not of the printer but of the binder. The text of these Quarto editions was evidently set up piecemeal. For some reason or other •Master N. Butter' was in a hurry to publish his 'booke,' and he, therefore, sent out the * copy,' divided into several parts to several compositois, and these different parts, when printed, were dispatched to a binder to be stitched (it is not probabletfaat
THE TEXT 357
any of the Shakespearian Quartos were more than merely stitched, or had other than paper covers). We learn from Arber's invaluable Transcript^ ii, 881-2, that the binding was not done by the printers, and as there were nearly fifty freemen binders at that time in London, there must have been among them various degrees of excel- lence ; as ill-luck would have it, the several portions of this tragedy of Lear fell to the charge of a careless binder, and the signatures, corrected and uncorrected, from the different printers, were mixed up, to the confusing extent in which the few copies that survive have come down to us.
That these Quartos were set up piecemeal is, I think, clear. On the forty-sixth page of what I have called Q^ or the N. Butter edition, the lines do not 'run on ;' the sentence stops in the middle and the rest of the line is left blank, thus*
toade pold, the wall-wort, and. the water, that in the fruite of his
heart, when the foule fiend rages.
Bates cowdung for fallets, fwallowes the old rat, and the ditch-
And as though the compositor "were careless at the close of his task, some of the grossest misprints occur in these closing lines of his stint : not to mention fruite in the foregoing lines for * fury,* or wall-wort for « wall-newt,' we have ^pinqueuer the • eye,* ' kart lip,* * olde anelthu night Moore,* &c.
Another similar break occurs on the fifty-first page of this same Quarto.
An indication that the Pide Bull edition was also set up by piecework is found at V, iii, 236, where Alb. is changed to Duke, and Duke it continues throughout the rest of the play.
It may be that the mere announcement on the title-page that the book is * printed ' for' Nathaniel Butter, indicates that it was done by more than one printer; had it been the work of one sole printer it would perhaps have been so stated, as is not unfrequently the case in other Quartos.
The Cambridge Editors say that * the printer's device ' on Q,, or the N. Butter edition, < is that of J. Roberts.' It is a matter of small moment, but I must confess that I mistrust any inferences drawn from the devices on the title-pages of the Shake- spearian Quartos. Undoubtedly, at times, these vignettes were the devices of the printers : Thomas Creede, for instance, has his initials inserted in his device. But different printers sometimes used the same device, as, for instance, John Danter in Romeo and Juliet, 1 597, and S[imon] S[tafford] in Henry IV, 1599. Sometimes the device is clearly that of the stationer, and not that of the printer at all ; Nicholas Ling in Hamlet, 1604, displays a ^j^, and Thomas Fisher in Midsummer Night* s Dream has a King-fisher, If, however, any conclusion may be drawn from these vignettes or devices, then, perhaps, N[icholas] 0[akes], whose vignette in Othello, 1622, is repeated on the title-page of the Pide Bull edition,' was the printer of the latter also.
The different readings in the different copies of the same Quarto gave rise to the assertion that there was a Third Quarto, also published in 1608. This assertion, instead of being a proof of the diligence and thoroughness with which the work of collation had been executed, unfortunately proves the opposite. Had the editors, who asserted this, been only a little more thorough, they would have been led prob- ably to maintain not that there were three editions merely, but three times three.
It was reserved for the Cambridge Editors to disprove the existence of this Third Quarto. In their Preface they say :
* It has been supposed, in consequence of statements made by Malone and Bos*
358 APPENDIX
*well, that a third edition of King Lear was published in i6oS. We shall show
* that there is no evidence for this. In the Variorum Shakespeare (ii, 652), edited *by Boswell in 1821, three Quartos are described, which are distinguished in the
< notes to the play by the letters A, B, C, respe^ively. The first of these is a copy ' of Q,,* quoted by us as Q, (Bodl. i) ; the second is a copy of Q, ; and the third, « which is in reality another copy of Q, and is quoted by us as Q, (Bodl. 2), is de- ' scribed as follows :
^ Title the same as the two former, except that like the first it begins at signature B : and like the second, has no reference to the place of sale."
'This statement of Bosweirs is taken from a note in Malone*s handwriting pre- ' fixed to the copy in question, which we transcribe.
<*This copy of King Lear differs in some particulars from the two others in Vol. IV.
<* The title-page of it is the same as the second of those copies, that is, it has no direction to the place of sale, and the first signat. is B, — notwithstanding which there are minute diversities; thus, in this copy in Hj verso, we have 'A fooU vsurps my bed*\ in the other, whose first signature is also B, we find — ^ My fooU usurps my body ', and in the copy without any diredUon to the place of sale (whose first signature is A) ' Viy foote usurps my head\**
* Now it is a little remarkable that at present the copy has no title-page at all, and
* there is no trace of the title-page having been removed since the volume has been
* in its present condition. The probability is that the title was originally wanting,
* and that one had been supplied from a copy of Q, before it came into Malone's
* hands, and that while it was in this condition he wrote the above note upon it It ' was then sent to be bound in a volume with other quartos, and the title may have ' been lost at the binder's, or may have been intentionally removed as not belonging
* to the book. That alterations were made by the binder is evident from the fa^
* that the copy to which Malone refers as the second of those in Vol. IV is in reality
* atit first, Malone, writing his note when Vol. IV was arranged for binding, de-
* scribed the then order of the plays, which must afterwards have been altered. In « any case, however Malone*s statement is to be accounted for, it is quite clear that
< Boswell must have described the Quarto after it was bound, when the title could
* not have existed.
* We have said that Boswell quotes the three Quartos of Lear, now in the Bod- « leian, by the letters A, B, C, respectively. In doing so, however, he is not con-
* sistent. We record his mistakes, that others may not be misled by them. Bearing •in mind, therefore, that A = Q, (Bodl. l), B = Q,, and C^Q, (Bodl. 2), we find in
* Adl II, Scene 2 (vol. x, p. 97) " Quarto B, ausrent; Quarto A, reads unreverent," •Here B and A should change places. In A<fl ill. Scene 7 (p. 1S8), «* Quarto A « omits roguish :** for A read C. In A<51 iv. Scene 2 (p. 199), for " Quartos B and
* C, fhe whisf/irtg,*' read " Quarto C '* alone. In A6i iv, Scene 6 (p. 220), B and A •should again be interchanged. In Adl v, Scene 3 (p. 277), ** Quarto A omits this *line" ; for A read B. It will be seen from these instances, that A has been in turn
* made to represent three different copies.'
A genuine second edition of the N. Butter Quarto (Q,) appeared in 1655; it was
* Printed by l/ane Be//, and are to be fold at the Eaft-end of Chris/- Church.* Amer- ican gallantry suggests commendation of this edition, but candour hushes every syl-
^ Let me again remind the student that, in the Cambridge Edition, Qa refers to what I ha re called Q*, or Fide Bull edition; and that their Qi is my Qa, or N. Butler edition.— £0.
THE TEXT 359
table of praise. It is a reprint, page for page, of Q^ and has almost reached the limit of incorrect typography. Here and there, in the earlier scenes^ I have re- corded in the foot-notes, some of its grossest misprints; but, generally I have omitted all reference to IL
As RowS's ill-luck pat the Fourth and poorest Folio nnder his pillow, so here, 1 think, the same ill-luck may, perhaps, have put Jane Bell's Quarto in his pew, and led him to peep into it now and then. See III, iv, io8, or III, vil, 6a
Davibs {DramaiU Misc, ii, p. 167) < cannot help suspecting ' that Lear was not popular, because only two Quarto editions appeared before it was reprinted in the Folio. Knight pronounces Davies's < argument worthless,' ' for it must be remem-
* bered that other of Shakspere's most perfect efforts, such as Macbeth^ were not pub- lished at all till they were collected in the Folio.' < In all likelihood, the Quarto
* editions were piratical and were probably suppressed. . . . Butter was undoubtedly *not a publisher authorised by Shakspere, for he printed, in 1605, The Limdon
* Prodigal, one of the plays fraudulently ascribed to our poet.' Colubr, on tl^ other hand, thinks that Lear was extremely popular, because it required more (kdn one edition in one year to satisfy the public demand. ' Why, however,' he says, ' it
* was never republished in quarto in the interval [between 1608 and 16237 must be 'matter of speculation; bat such was not an unusual occurrence with the works of 'our great dramatist; his Midsummer Nights Dream^ Merchant of VmUi^ and ^TroUus and Cressida^ were each twice printed, the first two in 1600, and the fast «in 1609, and they were not again seen in type until they were inserted in the < Folio ; there was also no second quarto of Much Ado about Noihing^ nor of Lov^s
* Labour* s Lost:
So much for the Quartos, with their puzzling, interlaced texts. It is comforting to reflect that to decide upon the precedence, in point of time, of these editions, or, in other words, which is Q, and which is Q;, belongs wholly to the province of Bibliography; it has no bearing whatever on the elucidation of the text of this tragedy.
In the Folio, Xing Lear appears in the division of Tragedies, and among them shares with Macbeth^ Othello, and Cymbeline, the distinction of being divided into Acts and Scenes. I believe there is no dissenting voice to the opinion, that we have here a text much superior, in general, to that of the Quartos, and one that was printed from an independent manuscript. And yet in spite of this superiority, there are, as Colubr says, few of Shakespeare's plays which are more indebted than this, to the Quartos, for the completeness of their text. This arises from the remarkable difference in length between the Folios and the Quartos. The Quartos exceed the Folios by about a hundred and seventy-five lines. There are about two hundred and twenty lines in the Quartos that are not in the Folios, and the Folios contain fifty lines not to be found in the Quartos. This discrepancy, with its abridgement on the one hand and its amplification on the other, presents a highly interesting field of investigation. By whom were these excisions made when the text of the Folio came to be printed, amounting in one instance to the omission of an entire scene ? By the master himself, or by the actors ? Are they made in accordance with a plan, or at hap-hazard ? Was the object to shorten the play, or to emphasise dramatic effects ? Such are some of the questions which this very important fact suggests, and their answers have received more attention from German than from English scholars.
360 APPENDIX
Dr Johnson expressed the belief that the Folio was printed from Shakespeare^t last revision, carelessly and hastily performed, with more thought of shortening the scenes than of continuing the action. See note on III, vi, 100-113.
TiECK (ix, 370) suggests that some of these omissions in the Folio may be due to a deference to the censorship of the press, which after the death of James became more strict ; or again some of them may be due to the obscurity which speedily falls on local allusions, or allusions to passing events, of which no play of Shakespeare contains more; or again the Third Scene of Act Fourth may have been omitted, be* cause of the lack of an actor who could adequately represent it; or its omission may have been due to a desire to' simplify the plot, and to avoid complications which, as it stands, it unquestionably creates.
Knight, who appears to have bestowed more thought upon the subject than other English editors, says : < Speech after speech, and scene after scene, which in the ' genuine copy of the Folio are metrically correct, are, in the Quarto, either printed ' as prose, or the lines are so mixed together, without any apparent knowledge in <the editor of the metrical laws by which they were constructed, that it would ' have been almost impossible, from this text alone, to have reduced them to any*
* thing like the form in which they were written by the author. This circumstance < appears to us conclusive, that these copies could not have been printed from the
* author's manuscript ; and yet they might have been printed from a genuine play* « house copy.*
After mentioning the large omissions in the Folio of passages to be found in the Quarto, Knight goes on to say, that it would be very easy to assume that these omis* tions were made by the editors of the Folio for the purpose of cutting the play down for representation; but this theory requires us to assume that the additions idso, in the Folio, were made by the editors, and these comprise several such minute touches as none but the hand of the master could have added. He then examines the sub- ject more in detail : < In the First and Second Acts the omissions are very slight In the opening of Act III we lose a spirited description of Lear in the storm— " tears his white hair," etc. But mark — it is description ; and the judgement of Shakespeare in omitting it is unquestionable, for he subsequently shows Lear in action under precisely the same circumstances. In the sixth scene of the same act is omitted the imaginary trial of Regan and Goneril, " I will arraign them straight." Was this a passage that an author would have thrust out carelessly and hastily ? It is impossible, as it would be presumptuous were it possible, un- hesitatingly to assign a motive for this omission. The physical exertion that would be necessary for any actor (even for Burbage, who we know played Lear) to carry through the whole of the third act might have been so extreme as to render it ex- pedient to make this abridgement ; or, what is more probable, as Kent previous to this passage had said, " All power of his wits has given way to his impatience," the imaginary arraignment might have been rejected by the poet, as exhibiting too much method in the madness. The rhyming soliloquy of Edgar, with which this scene closes, might have been spared by the poet without much compunction. The second scene of the fourth act, in which Albany so bitterly reproaches Goneril, is greatly abridged. In its amplified state it does not advance the progress of the action, nor contribute to the developement of the characters. The whole of the third scene of that act is also omitted. It is one of the most beautifully wntten of the play ; and we should indeed regret had it not been preserved to us in the Quartos. But let it be borne in mind, that the greater part of the scene is purely
THE TEXT 361
•descriptive; and, exquisite as the description is, particularly in those parts which
* make us better understand the surpassing loveliness of Cordelia's character, we
* cannot avoid believing that the poet sternly resolved to let the effect of this won-
* derful drama entirely depend upon its action. . . . The subsequent omissions, to the
* end of the drama, are few and unimportant.'
Staunton says, that a < careful comparison of the Quarto and Folio texts con*
* vinces us that, unlike that of Richard JII^ the text of Lear in the Folio is taken
* Uom a later and revised copy of the play. Whether the curtailment is the work «of the author, it is impossible now to determine; it is not always judicious, and •some of the substitutions are inferior to the language they displace; yet, on the ' other hand, the additions that we meet with in the Folio bear the undoubted mark < of Shakespeare's mint ; and while the metrical arrangement of the speeches in that
* edition has been carefully regarded, the text of the Quartos is printed in parts 'without any observance of prosodial construction.'
Hitherto, as we have seen, the omissions in the Folio have been supposed to be abridgements made by Shakespeare himself.
Dr Delius,* however, denies this, not only with regard to the omissions in the Folio, but to the omissions in the Quartos also.
Before entering on the discussion, the learned German premises that the texts of the two Quartos are to be considered as practically identical. There are, in effect, but two texts, that of the Folios and that of the Quartos ; and the question is, are the variations in them due to the hand of Shakespeare? To answer this, Delius sub- jects the two texts to a minute comparison, and begins with a list of the varia Uc» (tones in the Quartos, which may be considered^as errors either of the copyist or of the compositor, either of the pen or of the eye; according, as we think that they were to be found in the original MS, or were wrongly read by the printer— a dilem- ma hard to determine. This list, which I here reprint as a proof, if any were needed, that the conclusions at which Delius has arrived, were not reached without great care, contains several instances of what I cannot but think are not mere misprints, but words or phrases, which, making sense with the context, rise to the dignity of
* readings ;' these I have marked with an asterisk. The text of the Quartos is in Italic ; that of the Folios in Roman.
I» >» 36, ^r;/ intent* — ^fast intent; 38, Ciwt^mVf^ *— Confirming ; 108, mistressi —mysteries ; 173, diseases * — disasters ; 180, friendship * — freedom ; 219, you fof voucht affections* — ^your fore-vouch'd affections.
I, ii, 38, for your liking * — ^for your o'er-looking ; 1 17, spiritual! predominance • — spherical predominance; 128, otiim^— my cue; 128, them of Bedlam* — ^Tom o* Bedlam.
I, iv, 109, pestilfnt gull^^esiiUnt gall; 221, Either his notion weaknesses or his discemings are lethargy — Either his notion weakens, or his discemings are leth- argied ; 239, a great palace *— a graced palace ; 256, thou lessen my traine and--* thou liest. My train are ; 277, thourt disna fur* d^-ihwzrt disnatur'd ; 293, should make the worst bUssts — should make thee worth them ; 293, upon the untender-^ upon thee I The untented; 341, better ought* — better oft.
II, i, 18, Which must ask breefenesse and fortune helpe* — ^Which I must act. Briefness and fortune work ! 39, tvar^/m^— mumbling; 119, Mr^oAiMi,^'— threading.
•See Uehtr den ursprUnglichtn Text des King Lear, Shakespeare Year Book, x, 50. Re* printed in AbkatuUungtn tn Shaktpere, p. 359 ; Translated In Trans, qf the New Shakspere Stc^ &S7S-6, p. MS. 31
362 APPENDIX
II, ii, 70, to intrench to inloou-'\X30 intrinse to unloose : 104* ifiaA^Me— dialect ;
127, itopptn^—^lua^xxig,
II» iii, 17, j^rx/flrr— farmes. 'That the compositor here followed the ductus Hie * rarum is clear, when we remember that service was written fervice.*
II, iv, I, hence* — ^home; 8, hefles* — ^heads; 85, meere Justice — ^mere fetches; 156, lool^d iacie—\oo\i*d black; 261, not the deed-^ot the need; 273, lamely^ tamely.
III, i, 18, warrant of my ar/^— warrant of my note.
Ill, ii, 2, carterickes and ffircanios—caXzxzjcXs and hurricanoes ; 58, concealend /»f/<ffv— concealing continents; 60, more sinned against their sinning— more sinned against than sinning.
Ill, iv, 14, Save what heates their filiaU ingraiitudeSvr^ what beats there. Filial ingratitude I 175, to the dark towne — ^to the dark tower.
III, vii, 32, / am true* — I am none; 85, Unbridle all the sparks— etAAndle all the sparks.
IV, i, 4, Stands still in experience— stands still in esperance ; 53, / cannot ddncw it*—l cannot daub it [dance can be tortured into a meaning; Pope found enough in it to adopt it in his text — Ed.] ; 68, Stands your ordinance * — Slaves your ordinance ; 70, under — undo; 74, Looks firmely* — Looks fearfully.
IV, ii, 21, ^ mistress coward^X mistress's command ; 52, an eye discervistg—^xi eye discerning ; 89, net so tooke — ^not so tart.
IV, vx, 19, her cock above— Yktt cock a buoy ; 57, dread summons— ^nad summit;
128, ^^ffXtfiMOTa/iiMf— consumption ; 156, a dogge so bade in office— a^ dog's obeyed in office [Decidedly an error of the ear. — Ed.] ; 189, /^ shoot a troop 0/ horse with fill ^to shoe a troop of horse with felt; ^%2^ finced from my griefi^^'-wrtv^^ from my grieft. Compare above, II, iii, 17, /^rvtr^^-fannes.
IV, vii, 36, Mine iniurious dog — ^Mine enemy's dog
V, i, 52, Hard is the guess * — Here is the guess.
V, iii, 66, The which inimediate—Tht which immediacy; 136, Comspieuoti'-Cai^ spirant; 193, {O father)*— O fault!
The conclusion which Delius draws from an examination of this list of misprints, < which could be readily increased/ is, 'that the hand of the poet could have had 'nothing to do with them. In other words, Sh. wrote only what stands in the ' Folio.' A similar conclusion, he thinks, is also to be drawn from another class of readings in the Quartos, where evident misprints in one copy are corrected in an- other, such as II, ii, 121, where for the genuine 'ancient' we have ausrent, changed to miscreant; also II, ii, 160, « miracles ' ; II, i, lOO, ' To have th' expence,' where, ' instead of "th' expence " which cannot have been very clearly written in the MS,
'the compositor of the Quarto first substituted "these ;" which, in some
'copies, was afterwards filled up from pure conjecture, as "wast and spoyle"', •III, iv, 'Contentious'; III, vi, 94, 9$, 'Take up'; IV, ii, 56, 57, France- ' threats.' [For all these instances reference to the Textual Notes will supply the various changes to be found in the Quartos.] Delius then examines a third class of errors, where the changes seem to be purely arbitrary, such as wiU for 'shall,' space or liberty for 'space and liberty," That for 'Which,' &c &c. Then again there are certain differences where synonymous words are used— <^. ^., I, i, stoops to folly for • falls to folly » ; lb. respects for ' regards ' ; I, iii, disHke for ' dis- « taste • ; II, i, caitiff for ' coward,' &c. In view of all these different readings, De- lius makes the following strong point : ' Is it at all probable, that Shakespeare, even
THE TEXT 363
'grandng that he revised the text, would have undertaken such superfluous trouble, *as, we cannot say to improve, but merely to change the text in these innumerable,
< and minute, and insignificant particulars ; and for no conceivable reason withal, in-
* stead of taking in hand some real incisive improvement ? Or is it not more likely ' that a simple transcriber, attaching but slight importance to Shakespeare's words as ' such, in the hurry of his work substituted heedlessly or purposely, any phrase that ' occurred to him for another, one particle for another, one mood or number for 'another?'
In the substitution of prose for verse, of verse for prose, and in the omissions of words, phrases, and lines, in the Quartos, Delius sees the proof also that no trace of Shakespeare's revising hand can be detected. He then returns to the text of the Folio, with its note-worthy omission of * 220 lines,' that are in the Quartos. All these omissions, he concludes, were made by the players, for the puipose of short- ening the time of representation, not by Shakespeare. In the Quartos we have the play as it was originally performed before King James, and before the audience at the Globe, but sadly marred by misprints, printers' sophistications, and omissions, perhaps due to an imperfect and illegible MS. In the Folio we have a later MS, belonging to the Theatre, and more nearly identical with what Shakespeare wrote. The omissions of the Quartos are the blunders of the printers ; the omissions of the Folios are the abridgements of the actors. < From the very nature of the case,' says Delius, ' it seems far more natural that the Poet, who was also an actor, should have 'been himself the one to mark the omissions in his own drama. But on the other
* hand, if we remember with what careless indifference Shakespeare committed his ' plays to the care of the Theatre for which he wrote them, without troubling himself
* about their fate or literary future ; it will seem highly probable, that in the present ' instance he gave himself no further personal care about its representation, but left ' all that to those whom it most concerned — the actors of the Globe, the ownen of 'the MS.' Moreover, in 1608, when the Quartos were published, and the unabridged play may be presumed to have held the stage, Shakespeare was living at Stratford. ' Is it to be supposed then,' asks Delius, < that at that time or later— for the play may « have been abridged later — ^the actors would have applied to the absent, far-distant ' poet, to modify his drama for the stage, when such a task would seem to them, ac*
< customed as they were to matters of routine, an affair of'such every-day occurrence, 'that they themselves could just as easily do it for themselves?' Furthermore, De- lius thinks, that if Shakespeare himself had really revised this drama, we should have found more emphatic traces of his revision than mere omissions of certain pas- sages. In the general character of these omissions, Delius sees a desire to spare to the utmost, and to strike out such passages only, which contain amplified descrip- tions; or which, at least, are not essential to the developement of the dramatic treat- ment or of the characters. This point b emphasised, because in his Introduction to the play Delius had been led by these very considerations to an opposite conclusion — ^viz., that none but Shakespeare could have discriminated between the needful and the useless. Delius then proceeds to examine these omissions of the Folio, in detail. Some of his remarks I have incorporated in the conmientary under the pas- sages in the text where they apply ; for the others, it may be said, that in any drama by Shakespeare, it is much more easy to say why a certain passage should not be omitted, than to give a reason why it should. The presence of any passage in a play of Shakespeare's, is presumptive evidence that it is required ; and to prove that it is not, lies upon those who approve of its excision. So perfect and so unerring a
364 APPENDIX
master was Shakespeare, that anf abridgement of his plays b likely to be domsy; it is easier to maintain^ that a piece of clumsy work was done by any one rather than by Shakespeare. As Delius, in this very Essay (p. 67), truly says : « assuredly, * Shakespeare did not himself think any passage in his King Lear superfluous, other- 'wise he would scarcely have inserted that which his editors might deem needless.*
Delius sums up as follows : ' Having traced the variations between the Quaxta <and the Folio to their true source, we are led to the conclusion :— That there is n9 'evidence for the supposition that Shakspere himself revised this drama.'
Dr KOPPEL {Textkritiiche Studien itbtr Shakespeare s Richard III and King I^ear^ Dresden, 1877) comes to a conclusion directly opposed to Delius, and main- tains that it was Shakespeare's own hand that cut out many of the passages both in the Quarto text and the Folio text. The larger portion of his Essay is devoted to attacking Delius's position, and as destructive criticism does not come within my scope, I simply allude to his opposition without repeating his arguments. Koppel has evidently studied the notes in the Cambridge edition most thoroughly, and comes to the same conclusion as that to which the Cambridge Editors themselves had arrived before him— namely, that the N. Butter edition has been erroneously supposed to b^ Q, ; that the real Q, is that which in the notes to the Cambridge edition is called (^ He maintains with vigor and plausibility, that there are many corrected passages in Q, (t. e, the Fide Bull), in *some of which it is dear beyond a peradventure, and ' in others it is highly probable, that resort was had to the original MS. For in* 'stance, in I, iv, 294 untender becomes '<nntented," peruse^ in the next line, be- ' comes " pierce ;" in line 336 mildie gentleness is corrected to <« milkie gentleness." 'Such corrections as these would never have been made by a compositor out of 'hand; with ''mildie gentleness'* before him a compositor would never have ' thought of changing it to the poetic form of " milkie gentleness," but would have 'corrected it simply to "mild gentleness;" moreover, to suppose that in every case 'the compositor could have hit upon the correct word or phrase as we find them in ' the Folio, is simply incredible.* In those instances where some copies of the Fide Bull edition have one reading, and other copies of the same edition have different ones (such as ausrentf my rackles^ crulentious in some copies, and miscreant^ my wrack, tempestums in others), Koppel infers that the MS must have been illegible.
But, as has been before remarked, however interesting the discussion may be of the succession in time of these different Quartos, the question in reality is merdy bibliographical; and Koppel acknowledges that all this collation Is unimportant in comparison with the variation between the Quartos and Folios : according to the enumeration of the lines in the Cambridge edition, he finds two hundred and eighty- seven more lines in the Quarto than in the Folio, and one hundred and ten lines in the Folio which are wanting in the Quarto. As to whether the omissions in the Folio were due to Shakespeare or not, Koppel says, that however indifferent the poet may have been to the KUrary fate of his dramas, it is inconceivable that Shake- speare, Uie Actor, Manager, Dramatist, and Theatre-poet, should have taken no care for the representation of his pieces, or for their adaptation to the stage, or for their needful d>breviations or amplifications. ' Is it to be inferred that he took no per- 'sonal interest in the reproduction on the stage of his pieces, because he took no 'thought for iSoLfxt pinhlicatum inprmif Far more likdy is it that the literary future 'of his dramas pressed lightly 00 him, because the present practical interest in their 'representation, their scenic success, pressed upon him so heavily.* No inference^ Koppd thinks, as to the state of the text can be drawn from the date of the Quarto^
THE TEXT 365
nor from the statement on their title-pages, * as it was plaid ... at Whitehall/ which was merely a bookseller's puff, and designed to show the difference between thb edi* tion and the older play of King Leir^ with no intention of more accurately specifying the very text which was given before hb Majesty. ' It is very possible that, when the ' First Quarto (Q^ of the Cambridge edition) appeared, the version which is the basis
* of the Folio text had existed long before, and was used in public, notwithstanding '* that the MS which the publisher of the Quartos managed to procure, contained the
* earlier and discarded text; and perhaps it was for this very reason, because it was
* discarded, that it could be handed over to the publisher merely, perhaps, for the
* preparation of a transcript* (p. 72). Wherefore, the mere publication alone of the Quartos in 1608 does not hinder us from supposing that the version which the Folio follows belongs to an earlier year, when Shakespeare was in London and not in Strat* ford. In view of all the circumstances of the case, if we cannot regard the additions of the Folio as original portions of the text, Dr Koppel thinks that the following may be supposed as possible: 'The originalioxm was, essentially, that of the Quarto, then < followed a longer form, wiih the additions in the Folio, as substantially our modem ' editions have again restored them ; then the shortest form, as it is preserved for us 'in the Folio' (p. 74).
' Although in general the omissions in the Quarto may be attributed to Shakespeare, 'yet we must bo prepared to find several of them unworthy of the Poet; such for ' instance is I, t, 38->43. The next omission in the Quartos, I, i, 47, 48, may very ' possibly be a later addition in the Folio. But it is not essential, its gist has been ' already given in lines 35-38, and it may be considered as a skilful abridgement in ' the Quartos.' [Space will not permit me to follow Dr Koppel in his criticisms and explanations of all the omissions or additions of the Quartos and Folios; to a student interested in such matters of collation, it will not be a tediotis task to examine this subject thoroughly for himself at first hand; it will cost him but little more trouble to do so than to look up all the references to act, scene, and line, which would be all that I could possibly give him here, were I to reproduce all of Dr Koppel's essay, of which, however, I will give those passages that seem to me the most striking, wherein he assumes the task of proving that Shakespeare himself, with cause, added or omitted certain passages. The italics are Dr KoppePs.]
At the conclusion of his examination of all the important passages omitted in the Quartos, Dr Koppel finds (p. 82), ' with the trifling exception of only two passages, I, ' i, 38-43 and III, vi, 12-15, ^^ nothing forbids their being regarded as later addi* *tions by the Poet% That they really are so, it is obviously impossible to prove. It ' would have to be assumed that these additions to the text of the tragedy, made « perhaps, not all at the same time, gradually so increased that at last a reduction ' proved to be necessary. The abridged form, rendered essentially shorter than the
* piece originally was, would then be necessarily regarded as transmitted to us in the ' Folio, If we have thus shown that the passages wanting in the Quartos did not ' necessarily form a part of the original text, it b, on the other hand, at the same 'time shown, that these omissions were made at fitting places^ and had the sami
* practical design of abridgement as in the later form of the piece, which was pre*
* pared for the stage, and which b the basb of the Folio.' ... [P. 87.] Of the pas- sage,' III, i, 7-15, omitted in the Folios, it may be 'said that Shakespeare, after* « wards, and partly before, partly in thb scene, partly in what precedes, and in what ' follows, has enlarged sufficiently upon these things, the white uncovered head, the
* rain, the storm, the fearful night, and Lear's mad defiance, and could when abridge*
31*
366 APPENDIX
■ ment were tlie object, very well dispense with this passage. . • . Besides we may ' see here the artist's hand in the choice of passages to be erased, expunging a grand
* description of the King in the stonny night, which might weaken the impression 'of his actual appearance when he comes before ns in the next scene.' • • . [P. 88.] The notable omission in the Folios of III, i, 30-^, Koppel justifies: 'The suffer- ' ings of Lear being known in France (in the Quartos, merely the quarrel between ' the British Dukes, of which advantage was to be takdh by the enemy, appears as
* the occasion for the French invasion), the sending of the nobleman to Dover to ' Cordelia is rendered superfluous, aimless. Hence, from the text of the Folio, we ' gather from this joiission merely a cheering eusurance of the approaching deliver-
* ance of Lear, which Kent gives to the nobleman, although only by hints. For he ' tells him only that from France, where Lear*s sufferings are known, war is com- ' ing, and that he will soon get to see Cordelia. The declaration, that French troops 'have already landed at Dover, is stricken out This cheering intimation, which, ' as well as the material compensation (Kent's purse and ring), was well earned by
* the good faith of the knight, fits well into this preparatory scene, which thus pos- 'sesses the' effect of a soothing pause in the rapid progress of the tragic action.' Koppers hardest task lies in justifying the omission of the entire Third Scene of Act IV ; while granting the justice of the general opinion that this scene is necessary for the reawakening of interest in Cordelia, who has not been seen since the intro- ductory scene, ' yet,' he urges, ' perhaps, for the expunging of this full poetic descrip* ' Hon, preceding the personal appearance of Cordelia, there was the same reason as
* for the omission, mentioned above, of the description of Liear before he himself ' appears in the stormy night.
' When then, with this scene, the necessary reason for the non-appearance of the ' French King in the subsequent warlike scenes is also left out, it does not prove ' the impossibility of Shakespeare's having made these erasures.. How often Shake- 'speare was careless in regard to secondary incidents, how often he even con- ' tradicts himself in such matters, is sufficiently known. Instances, more or less
* striking, may be found everywhere. For example, in this very scene in the orig- ' inal longer form of the tragedy, the Gentleman and Kent speak of a letter of ' Kent's (' Did your letters pierce,' &c. &c.), which the former was to hand to Cor- 'delia; while, according, to an earlier scene of the Third Act, only an oral mes-
* sage had been entrusted to the Gentleman. So likewise in that scene, Kent and < the Gentleman are to seek the King in different directions, and he who first lights ' on him was to holla the other ; the Poet causes this arrangement to be made in de- ' tail, without any mention being made afterwards of ib having been carried out, in
* the tragic scene where Lear is found by Kent. Kent does not trouble himself about
* his fellow-seeker, and consequently as little do we know where he has gone. Only ' in Dover do we find him again. Just so, in that scene, Kent gives to the same ' gentleman a ring which he is to show to Cordelia, and learn from her who * yonr
* fellow is That yet you do not know.' Notwithstanding, we find that when the
* gentleman has delivered his message to Cordelia and reports the fact to Kent, he •still does not know that it is Kent with whom he is speaking; for Kent sayss < ' some dear cause Will in concealment wrap me up awhile ; When I am known ' aright, you shall not grieve Lending me this acquaintance ;' and when the gentle- 'man is speaking again (IV, vii, 91) with Kent, he tells him, as a report which he
* himself believes, that Kent b in Germany with Edgar.' [It is only an inference of Koppel's, that the 'gentleman ' in this scene is same as Kent's messenger in the
THE TEXT 357
fonner scene. The stage directions give simply ' gentleman/ and it may well haye been two different men. — Ed.] ' Finally, a similar instance of carelessness is to be ^ found in IV, iii, where it is said, that the French king must for urgent reasons re- 'turn to France, and that he has left Monsieur La Far 'behind him, general'. And *yet the Poet forgot this entirely. This La Far is never afterwards alluded to. Cor-
* delia alone represents the French military power. It may well be supposed, that ' if it were the Poet who struck out this scene, the opportunity of getting rid of the 'strange gentleman induced him, at the same time, to erase the more important men- « tion of the king of France, closely connected therewith, together with the whole ' scene ; which, on the whole, could be dispensed with. Moreover, it is not impos-
* sible, that, by the insertion of some brief passage, the hiatus thus made was filled <np, and this passage was afterward forgotten in the. MS of the Folio, or in the ' printed edition.'
' [P* 93-] "^c last eight lines of Act III, which are omitted in the Folio, contain,
* in the Quartos, a contradiction between them and the opening scene of the next act; 'which, of itself, would lead us to suspect the genuineness of the Quartos. The
* Second Servant says': * Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam To lead him,' ' &c. But in the next scene, Gloucester is led by an ' Old Man,' and apparently ' meets the Bedlam by accident, and it is Gloucester himself who asks the Bedlam to ' lead him. This is, after all, only one of the many little things in Shakespeare in 'which, as we have shown above, especially in King Lear, inconsistencies and con- ' tradictions may be discovered, that do not authorise any hap-hazard assumption,
* that the passage in the Quartos is not genuine. But, on the other hand, this causes
* the omission in the Folio to appear all the more explicable and fitting.
' [P- 940 In IV, i, the passage in Edgar's speech about 'Obidiciit,' 'Hobbidi* ' * dance,' and ' Mahu,' is omitted. The reference to Harsnet's book, in this Tragedy, ' was desirable only so long as the book was fresh in men's memories.'
On page 96 Dr Koppel sums up his conclusion: 'Thus it appears that these ' omissions, fcfiV^ some exceptions quite immaterial^ are of such a kind thai they might
* very well have been made by the poet himself; in many cases, this possibility has ' more probability, in others less ; and, furthermore, it is also possible, that different 'passages were stricken out at different times, and in part also by different hands.'
Dr Schmidt, at whose hands we have all received that valuable gift. The Shake* speari Lexicon^ has written an Essay on the Text of Xing Lear^ of which only a portion, at this date, has appeared in type; and even of this portion, I can give only an abridgement.
In all cases, where two texts exist, the Quartos and the Folios, the first thing to b^ done, according to Dr Schmidt, is to decide which of the two is authentic. ' May we
* assume, that Shakespeare had such an inter^t in the publication of the Quartos as ' to give them an authority higher than that of the Folio, which appeared after his ' death ? Or, on the other hand, shall we pin our faith exclusively to that form of ' the text whose lawful origin is undoubted ? Are the different texts different remod* ' ellings, and if so, are the changes in the later, due to the hand of the Poet, or to 'that of another ? To these questions there can be but one true answer, and until
* that answer be found, all genuine textual criticism is merely a groping in the dark.
* In England, it is customary to accord ' equivalent validity' to the Quartos and Folios; ' and to decide at one time for one, and at another time for another, according to indi- ' vidnal bias; and the result is an eclectic text When the editor is a man of taste, the
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APPENDIX
* reader, perhaps, does not fare so badly; but such dealing cannot be termed critical.
* Even in the case where we have to deal with two different versions from the hand
* of a Poet himself, one of the two must be laid aside; no matter, whether we prefer < that version which gives us the first hurried sketch, or that which has received the ' improvements of maturer judgement. To weld both into one, yields a result, which
* never had any existence for the Poet himself even .... The universal acknowledge* ' ment, that the Romeo and Juliet of 1597, the Hamlet of 1603, and the Quartos of
* Henry V^ and the 2d and 3d Parts of Henry VI, and of The Merry fVives, are meie ' compilations, hastily made up from copies taken down from performances on the stage, ' and from untrustworthy recollections, — this acknowledgement can be but a question
* of time. . , . Shakespeare's indifference to the fate of his dramas, has been praised by
* some and binmed by others, and all have perceived in it, the poet's unconsciousness ' of his own greatness ; whereas it may have been the natural result of the highest 'intellectual power^ which finds in the joy of creating its fullest and completest ' reward, and in the prospect of the future loses all interest in the present and the
* past. . • • Every doubt as to the unlawful character of these Quartos ought to be
* reasonably laid, when we have in the Preface to the Folio, such a decided, unam- « biguous proof. * Where before you were abused,' so we read there, * with divers
* * stolen and surreptitious copies, maimed and deformed by the frauds and stealths "of injurious imposters that exposed them, even those are now ofiered to your view < ' cured and perfect of their limbs/ &c« It is remarkable, how completely this famil-
* iar announcement has been lost sight of, and discarded, by almost every Shakespeare
* student. Perhaps, it is thought, that editor against editor and publisher against pub« ' lisher, are not competent witnesses. And, moreover, the judge is not uncorrupted. 'The short-comings of the Folio, the sole authorised edition, give to the Quartos, ' spite of their lack of authenticity, such a disproportionate importance, that the mod-
* ern critic is in duty bound to thank them at every step; and cannot refrain from hold-
* ing them in high honour. Their present relative importance, induces a very natural ' delusion as to their absolute worth. It has been thought, that the foregoing sentence ' from the Preface in the Folio referred only to the six Quartos mentioned above, and ( that we were, therefore, justified in dividing the Quartos into authentic and spurious
* Quartos. In fact, several of them afford a text essentially complete and worthy of ' the poet, nay, some even appear to be set forth with greater care than the Folio.
* But this, by no means, proves that there is no difference between a lawful and an
* unlawful edition; but at best only between more adroit and less adroit sophistications, ' and gives us no right to restrict, just as we please, the general assertion of the Folio,
* and to draw the line at a boundary which our own needs have set up. When this ' or that Quarto is termed authentic, it is not absolutely meant, that it must have been ' published in an authorised manner by the direct or indirect means of the lawful ' owner of the MS. But this expression implies rather, that authentic copies, by ' some means or other, must have come into the possession of the publisher. Of
* course, this would not be impossible, but it would be very diflicult. . . . The com-
* plete MS, be it remembered, was in the possession of the managers alone, among ' whom it is not likely that a traitor to their own monopoly would be found; the indi-
* vidual actors knew nothing more than their own parts, and it would, therefore, require
* an organised complicity of all of them, in a plot to place their collected rOles in the 'Hands of an outside purchaser. On the other hand, it could not have been difficult, •where neither pains nor cost were spared, to procure by copyists in the Theatre a ' passable, nay, even a complete and correct printer's copy. If it proved too much for
THE TEXT 369
one short-hand writer, two or three could accomplish it, by relieving each other; and if it could not be finished at the first performance, it could certainly be done at the second 01 third. Here is hypothesis against hypothesis, possibility against possi- bility, and it will need a series of minute investigations to turn the scale. The fol- lowing pages will be devoted to the task of proving, that one of the so-called authentic Quartos could have had its origin only in copies made at a performance on the stage, and that its various readings merit no regard in comparison with the text of the Folio,' which has, at least, an indirect connection with the handwriting of the poet; and when, moreover, the Folio is not marred by manifest misprints. . . •
* [P. 5.] The omissions in the Folio are not of vital importance, owing to the firm structure of the drama, which does not permit much to be removed without danger to the whole; and they have been made by no unskilful hand. We may, therefore, assume, that we have here the piece in that shape in which it was presented on the Shakespearian stage in the years just preceding its appearance in type, and it is manifest that it has suffered no material injury by its abridgements. These abridge- ments might have occurred all the more easily, if we suppose that the original MS had been neglected, mislaid, and finally lost. The greater completeness of the Quartos, however, by no means proves, that they represent a more complete MS than the Folio ; but only that they appeared, or were prepared, at a time, when the drama was acted in its unabridged form, owing to a lack of sufficient experience of the needs of the stage.
' [P. 6.] It would be unfair to deny that a number of Quarto readings correct some unmistakeable misprints of the Folio. Thus I, i, 1 73, < diseases ' for disasters; II, i, 89, ' strange news ' for strangeness; II, ii, 130, < dread ' for dead; II, iv, 34, ' whose ' {or those; II, iv, 170, 'blast her pride' for ^/iV/zr/ 183, 'fickle' iorfickly; III, iv, 53, • ford ' for sword; HI, vi, 73, « tike ' for tight; IV, ii, 75, ' thereat ' for threat i IV, iv, 18, ' distress ' for desires; IV, vi, 17, * walk' for walked; 83, 'coining' foi crying; 265, ' we'ld' for toe. But from all these we are not to conclude that the Quartos were genuine, that is, that they were derived from authentic MSB; but the inference to be drawn, with the greater assurance from such separate instances, is that the actors during a performance pronounced these words or phrases rightly and clearly, which the compositor of the Folio read wrongly.
'lliese thirteen, or at most fifteen, instances in which the Folio is corrected by the Quartos, are offset by numberless, utterly senseless, readings in the latter. When tliey read I, i, 39, first for ' fast ' ; 37, of our state for ' from our age ' ; 38, confirming for ' conferring ', &c. &c ; it has never occurred to any modern editor to allow his previous preference for the Quartos to have sway here. Nevertheless, it must be conceded, that such instances of carelessness as these have no bearing on the main question.
< More remarkable and significant is a third class of discrepancies, which give editors the most embarrassment—^. ^., in the Quartos, I, i, 33, ' my liege ' for my lord; 34, ' we shall' for we will; 'fi^ years for 'strengths;' $i, merit doth most chat' lengeit for 'nature doth with merit challenge;' 147, 'stoops to folly' for falls to ^ folly; 181, protection for ' dear shelter' ; II, ii, 84, Whafs his offence for ' What is ' his fault' ; II, iv, 297, bleak winds for ' high winds ', &c. &c; and when we find in round numbers, a hundred more similar variations, it is obvious enough, that the fault is not to be laid to illegible MS, or to mere typographical errors.
' The prevailing opinion is, that there are two different versions of the tragedy, that
*the Quartos contain the earlier and original, and the Folio the second and revised
version. We cannot find the least historical support for a theoiy, that Shakespeare
Y
370 APPENDIX
* himself had any hand in snch a revision. The editors of the Folio mention, as hit ' characteristic, that ' we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers,' and ' Ben Jonson quotes the same from the mouth of his fellow-actors. It may be granted ' that genuine changes, such as Schiller introduced into his Robbers^ or Goethe into *his C^t%t would not preclude in consequence thereof, the complete re-writing of his ' pieces, if, on other grounds, we had reason to believe that such changes there were.
< But absolutely excluded are all trifling corrections, changes in words and phrases
< that change nothing, which are utterly unimportant to the piece as a whole, and ' even to the impression in detail. It would be impossible to recognize in such trifles
* the hand of the poet, even if we knew nothing of his ' unblotted papers;' especially of a poet, who was by profession an actor.
* The only result from such-a revision would have been vexation and confusion to the actors, who having once stamped upon their memories a certun phrase, would have to unlearn all their rOles for such bagatelles as these. It is very doubtful, if
' Ben Jonson would have had the chance to report Shakespeare's praise in the mouth of his fellow.players, if he had ever set them snch a task as thb. . . . £verythin|t
•becomes clear, as soon as we suppose that the MS for the Quartos was prepared by
* taking it down during a performance on the stage. Actors have now and then an ' unsure memory, or perhaps, they are not conscientious enough to use the precise
* word of the poet. It makes little diffierence to them, whether they say ' stoops to * ' folly ' or * falls to folly ', * protection ' or ' dear shelter ', &c. &c. Copyists writing ' rapidly use abbreviations {t,g, my /. for ' my lord ', but which the compositor makes
* • my liege ') ; and they leave gaps which they afterwards £11 out erroneously from ' memory (i. g, * bleak winds ' for ' high winds'), they mis-hear much and mis-^'rite
much. A complete and exhaustive explanation, of all the changes in the Quarto <Text, is to be found in the broad path, at every fresh station exposed to fresh dan-
< gers, which the words of the poet travel, through the mouth of the actor, the ear of ' the spectator, the hand of the copyist, and the eye of the compositor.' [Dr Schmidt brings forward certain classes of errors, to prove his position. I can give only the headings:] ' i. The Quartos make no distinction between verse and prose; not even ' where the lines rhyme at the end of a scene. 2. Many errors of the Quartos are 'mistakes of the ear, not of the eye. 3. Capridousness of the actors' diction is
* noticeable in the use of expletives, like ' come,' ' do,' * go to,' ' how,' * sir,' &c In
* common life Englishmen are fond of beginning their sentences with such little words,
< which, like tuning-forks, give the key in which they intend to speak. 4. The omissions
* in the Quartos are evidently due to the actors, occurring as they do in the middle of
* speeches, where care is taken merely to preserve the cue, &c. &c.' [Dr Schmidt sums up as follows :] ' Such are the reasons in general and in particular, which prove
* that the Quarto-Text of Xing Lear lacks authority, and that its various readings are to <be expunged for our editions; excepting, in those few instances, where they serve to ' correct indubitable errors in the Folio. At how early, or at how late, a day this con*
* viaion will take root and bear fruit, cannot from past experience be approximately
* reckoned. It is not eveiy-one's business to let himself be convinced, and it is not ' eveiy-one's business to follow his convictions.' [Nearly all the remainder of Dr Schmidt's remarks will be found in the commentary to the text. Unfortunately, his essay is only a fragment. It does not extend beyond the second Scene of the first Act
Since the foregoing was written an article has appeared in Robintm^s EpUonu 0/ IMtrature. i August, 1879, by the Rev. Mr Fuay, on TTu DaU and Tht Text of
THE TEXT 371
this play. The portion that relates to the Text is substantially as follows :] ' In the ' Quarto we have the version of the play as it was performed on the 26th of Decern- ' her, 1606, before the King. I am unable to trace any revivals of it, but the fact that ' the Folio is divided into Acts and Scenes, and the numerous omissions in it, prove ' that version to be an abridgement for stage purposes, most likely made after Shake* *speare*s retirement, and probably circa 1616-22.
' I will now proceed to examine some peculiarities in the versions. We must re*
* member that in 1605, when the original version (which we call *0*) was produced, ' the Queen had recently (in October, 1604) been consulting astrologers and firmly ' believed in them; that James I. was popularly supposed to be on anything but good ' terms with Prince Henry ; that his wholesale creation of knights had been satirised ' abundantly on the boards ; and that England and Scotland had been merged in
* Great Britain by proclamation (October 20, 1604). Again, in 1606, December 26, « when the revival took place, the Gunpowder Plot had disturbed the Court and people.
' Now turn to I, ii, 103, J^^.,it is clear that a passage, innocent perhaps originally,
* but liable to misconstruction by the Court, has been carefully left out in the Quarto. << This villain of mine comes under the prediction ; there's son against father: thi
* King falls from bias of nature^ therms father against child. "We have seen the best ' of our time,' &c.
'On the other hand, 1. 91 seq,<, lyj seq,^ which were inserted in the Quarto in place 'of this, speak of a 'father that so tenderly and entirely loves him;' 'menaces and 'maledictions against king and nobles;' (Gunpowder Plot;) 'nuptial breaches;' ' (Lady Essex;) and the like, none of which allusions would be disagreeable to the •King.
' Again, in I, tv, 345, seq.^ this passage was omitted :
' ' This man hath had good counsel : a hundred knights,
' Tis politic and safe to let him keep
'At point a hundred knights ; yes, that, on every dream
' Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike,
' He may enguard hit dotagt with tkiirpowtrt,
' And hold cur Uv€t in mtrcy'
* But the strongest instance of this kind is in III, i, 22-42, where 22-29 (from the ' Folio) are clearly alternative with 30-42 (from the Quarto). In the Folio we read t
' ' Who have, as who have not, that their great stars ' Throned and set high f servants, who seem no len, ' Which are to France the spies and speculations ' Intelligent of our sute ; what hath been seen, • » • • tiji* • • •something deeper, ' Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings.*
' But in the Quarto we are only told of ' secret feet in some of our best ports.' ' Is it not dear that the former passage would, in the winter of 1604-5, when the ' peace with Spain was not six months old — ^a peace procured by the bribery of Suf- ' folk, Northampton, Pembroke, Southampton, Dirieton, &c., &c.~be taken by the ' populace as a direct allusion to this scandalous corruption, and is it not also clear ' that the Court could not allow the play to be acted before them without the clever
* reformations introduced by Shakespeare in this Quarto version ?
' Another omission of the same kind is that of the Merlin prophecy at the end of
* ni, ii. James would not have tolerated even so distant a prospect of a time when « the realm of Albion should come to great confusion, and any allusion to the cot-
372 APPENDIX
fpnzse who 'came, to the throng* during his fint progress is Imowil to have beeo ' very obnoxioos to him,
• It ii ^Uar then that the Quarto is, as stated on the title-page, the vemon 'played 'before the King's Majesty.' It is, however, a scandalously incorrect and surrepd* 'tious copy of that version, taken from a wretchedly written MS.
'Taking it then that the Quarto is a somewhat altered version of 'O' for Conit 'perfonnance, but very carelessly copied and erroneously printed, we have yet to « examine the Folio. In this case, fortunately, as in the corresponding cases of * Othello and Hamlet ^nt have two versions, one abridged considerably. It is not ' then possible for ingenuous editors to sneer at the very notion of abridgement as ' tbey do when it is suggested that The Tempest or yulius Oesar have been curtailed 'for theatrical purposes. But they all agree that in this instance the alteration was ' made by Shakespeare himself. In spite of the recorded facts that Shirley, Massin* 'ger, &c. did rewrite great portions of Beaumont and Fletcher (who were then, ' 1616-40, esteemed above Shakespeare) ; in spite of the probability that pordons, ' if not all, of hb MSS were burnt with the Globe Theatre; in spite of the palpable 'fact that Timam was so remodelled before 1623, and Maeheth^ The Tempest^ &c. 'afterwards, by D'Avenant and Dryden; in spite of the persistence to our own time ' of managers in playing Richard I 11^ Macbeth^ &c. in their altered forms, we are 'required to believe that Shakespeare, who left his plays to take care of themselves, 'and did not collect them like Jonson, was regarded as too sacred to be remodelled ' until his plays were published in 1623, but after that they were open to any one to 'refashion as he pleased; in other words, the very thing which preserved Jonson's 'plays from being altered was the beginning of the corruption of Shakespeare's. I 'believe, on the contrary, that this process began immediately after his death, and 'that nearly every play revived was, at the revival, revised also; abridged, 're* 'formed' of oaths, &c., corrected by alteration of obsolete words, and 'emended' ' in metre as well as diction. In some cases I believe also interpolations were intro* ' duced^ — ^not, however, in this play of Lear^ to which I return.
« Besides the alteraihm I have noted from ' O' to the Quarto, there are omissions ' in the FoUo, especially in the later part of the play. Besides shorter ones of a line ' or so, which may be due to the careless copy, or of single words, which may be 'due to the printer, I may notice the following: I, iii, 16-23; I, iv, 154-169; I, iv, '252-257; II, ii, 148-152 (clearly a purposed omission, not accidental, the metre 'being set right by inserting, 'need'); III,vi, 18-59; III, vi, 109-122 (omitted
< because, as Heywood tells us, rhyme had become unfashionable) ; III, vii, 98-107 ; * IV, i, 60-66; IV, i, 31-50; IV, i, 53-58; IV, i, 62-69. The whole of IV, iii
* (intentional, for the scenes are renumbered Tertia for Qttarta, etc., up to Stptima,
< which remains unaltered); IV, vii, 86-97; V, i, 23-28;. V, iii, 54-59; V,iii,203-22X.
* Now I cannot believe that these omissions were made by Shakespeare; the last ' one, for instance, narrating the meeting of £dgar-and Kent, is necessary to the plot
* See how abrupt line 229 (' Here comes Kent') becomes without it But on this 'point, and on the incorrectness of the Quarto I need not enlarge. Four years since ' Prof. Delius, in an able paper, displayed his views on them, with which I entirely ' coincide. The portions of this article which I claim as original are the fixing the ' date of production in 1605, not 1606 [see Date of the Composition^ p. 381], and the 'hypothesis that the Quarto version was one altered by Shakespeare firom 'O' for ' production at Court.
'While the very numerous irxegularities of metre In the Qoaito are due entirely to
THE TEXT 373
'the misreading of the badly written MS by a careless printer, the many broken lines « of less than five feet in the Folio are due to the omission of passages cut out to ' shorten the representation. I pointed this out in the case of Jutitis Qgsar, in 1875.
* I now say that it applies to all the shortened plays of Shakespeare, and that in re-
* gard to his works, and Fletcher's, or to any of the great dramatists, we can always ' tell if any play has been abridged by examination of this one peculiarity.'
A LIST OF VARIOUS READINGS IN CERTAIN QUARTOS, COLLATED BY THE CAMBRIDGE EDITORS, AND RECORDED BY THEM IN THE FOOT-NOTES OF THEIR EDITION.
The following collation is wholly the work of Messrs Clarr and Wright. 1 have not incorporated it in my own collation, as recorded in the foregoing Textual notes. The discrepancies hardly rise to the dignity of varia tecttoneSt in the strict sense in which the phrase is used among schoolmen ; they are little else than gross typographical blunders, and are interesting mainly for bibliographical purposes, in deciding the priority in printing among several copies, or even portions of copies, of Quartos of the same date. Interest too may be found in deciding whether the various readings are errors of the eye or of the ear.
It is to be borne in mind, that I have here reprinted the collation exactly as it is recorded in the Cambridge Edition, except in some cases where the reading is iden- tical with the received text, there it seemed superfluous ; and that ' Q;' of the Cam* bridge Edition is Q, of this, viz ; the Pide Bull edition.
In their Preface the Cambridge Editors give the following explanation of the sym- bols which they have used :
' Q, (Cap.). The copy in Capell's collection.
• Q, (Dcv.). The copy in the Library of the Duke of Devonshire.
' Q, (Mus. per.). A perfect copy in the British Museum. (C. 34, K. 18). [Ash* bee's Facsimile agrees with this. — Ed.]
* Q; (Mus. imp.). An imperfect copy (wanting title) in the British Museum (C. 34,
K. 17) ; formerly in the possession of Mr Halliwell. « Q, (Bodl. i). A copy in the Bodleian Ltbraiy (Malone 35), with the title, but
wanting the last leaf. ' Q; (Bodl. 2). A copy in the Bodleian Ubraiy (Malone 37), wantbg title, but
having the last leaf.'
I» Si 9S» You have Begot'] bgot Q, (Cap.).
I, i, 102. Sure, I shall never marry\ Malry Q, (Cap.).
I, ii, 36. Edm.] Bast. Q.FfQ,. Ba. Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. & Bodl, I, 2).
Om. Q, (Mus. imp.). Ii iv, 87, If you will measure your lubber^s length] lubbers hngth Q, (Cap. &
Dev.). lubbers^ length Q, (Mus. per. & imp. & Bodl. t, 2). I, iv, 148, They would have part on*t: and ladies too,] onU^ and lodes too, Q^Q,!
tfifV, and lodes too, Q, (Cap. & Dev.). anV, and Ladies too, (^
(Bodl. X, 2, Mus. per. & imp.). If iv, 173. I would fain learn to lie] leame to lye Q; (Bodl. I, 2, Mus. per. k
imp.), leame fye Q. (Cap. & Dev.}.
3a
374 APPENDIX
I, iv» 185. mow thm art an O] now thou Q. (Bodl. x, 2, Mas. per. & imp.) FL
ihou^ thm 0,0. (Cap. & Der.). I9 iVy 393. Blasts and fogs ^tpm thtel The intended] upon the untender OsO*
(Cap. & Dev.). t^^ M^ untented 0. (Bodl. i, 2, Mas. per. ft
imp.). I,iVf295« /^^^^evciy sense about thee!] /*nw 0,0. (Cap. & !>€▼.)• !• !▼• 335* ^li^ ^of/Af your return, No^ no, my lord,] and after your retume now my lord Of ^^^^ ^ft*^ yf^^ retume now my lord Q^
(Cap. & Dev.). ^ hasten your retume now my lord 0. (BodL
I9 2, Mas. per. & imp.). I» iVy 336i This wnV^ gentleness] milhii Q, (BodL x, 2, Mus. per. & imp.).
mildie 0.0. (Cap. & Dev.).
I, iT9 33& Yo^ ^^ much more attasVd for want of Wisdom] attaskt for Q^
(Bodl. x» 2, Mas. per. & imp.), aiapt 0.0. (Cap* & Dev.). n, i» loa To have the waste and spoil of his revenues] the wast and ^oyle of his
0. (BodL t, 2y Mus. per. & imp.), these^-and wast of this his
0, (Cap. & Dev.), n, i, I2(X Occasions, noUe Gloucester, of womt poise] poyse Q^ (Bodl. x, 2, Mus.
per. &unp.). /rirr Oa (Cap* & Dev.). II» i, 122. Oar father he hath writ, so hath our sister Of differences] diferences Q;
(BodL X, 2, Mus. per. & imp.), defences 0,0; (Cap. & Dev.). n, i» 123. which I best thought it fit] lest 0. (BodL x, 2, Mus. per« & imp.).
II, 1, 124. To answer from our home^ hand 0,0; (Cap. & Dev.), n, ii, X, Good dawnu^ deuen 0. (Bodl. i).
II, il« X4. three-suited] three snyted Q. (Bodl. x).
n, Ii, 15. worsted-stochin^] wasted stochen 0. (Bodl. x).
n, il, X2X. You ituhbom ancient knave] ausrent 0. (Bodl. x).
n, iiy X38. iasest and contemned' si wretches] helest and contained 0. (Bodl. X).
n, ii, x6o. Nothing almost see miracles] my wrache 0,0a (^P* ^^^* ^^' P^*
& imp. ft Bodl. 2). n^ rachles 0. (BodL X). n, il, X62. Who hath mpsf] not 0. (BodL x). n,li,i66. TSOr] Zo/^ 0. (Bodl. X).
n, iii, 15. numb'd asul mortified] and is omitted in 0. (BodL X). n,iii,x6. Pim]Pies(i^{fio6X.i). n, Iii, 17. from low farms] frame Q, (BodL x). . II, iii, 2a Thrfygod] Tiiefygod 0; (BodL x). n, iv, 97. father Would with his] fate . . . with the 0. (BodL x). II, iv, 98. commands her service] come and tends seruise Q; (Bodl. x). II, iv, xoa 'Piery' f Uhe fiery duke ?' TeU] ThefierU duhe, tell 0. (Bodl. f ). II, iv, loi. No] Mo 0, (Bodl. i). n, iv, xxS. cochney] cokney 0. (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. ft imp. ft BodL 2). cok-
iM>r Oa (BodL i). n, iv, XX9. paste] pUst (^ (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. ft imp. ft Bodl. 2). pa^t Q^
(BodLx). n, iv, 127, divorce me from thy mother's tomb] deuose . • • /htit Q. (BodL x). II, iv,.X33. depraved] deptouedQ^ (Bodl. i). II, iv, x88. Allow] alow 0,(^* allow 0. (Cap.), n, iv, 223. calli/] caUit 0. (Dev.). III,ii,35. ^/];i«/0,(Dev.).
THE TEXT 375
in. !v, 6. Contentious slonn] cruUntiotti Uorm Q, (Mas imp. & Bodl. I).
tempestious storm Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). Ill, iv, 10. fwjgw^] roring Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. per, & Bodl. 2). Ill, iv, 14. Save what beats there.] beaies Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. & Bodl. 2).
hearts Q,Q, (Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). Ill, iv, 106. tendings} leadings Q,Q, (Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). Ill, iv, 106. Come, unbutton here,} Come on bee true, (^ (Mus. imp. & Bodl. 1).
Come on Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). III,iv, III. Flibbertigibbet} Sriberdegibit Q, (Mus. imp. & BodL l). fliberdi'
gibek Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). Ill, iv, 112. gives} gins Q, (Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). Ill, iv, 1 12, 1 13. and the pin, squints} the pin-queues Q, (Mus. imp. & Bodl. l).
6* the pin, squemes Q, (Cap. Dev. & Mus. per.). Ill, iv, 1x3. hare-lip} hare lip Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). harte Up Q,
(Mus. imp. & Bodl. l). Ill, iv, 1x6. He met the mght-mare} a nellthu night more Q, (Mus. imp. &
Bodl. i). he met the night mare Q, ^^p. Dev. Mus. per. &
Bodl. 2). Ill, iv, X19. thee, witch,} thee, witch Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). thee^
with Q, (Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). m, iv, 125. tadpole} todepold Q, (Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). tadpole Q. (Cap. Dev^
Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). Ill, iv, 125. wall-newt} wall-wort Q, (Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). Ill, vi, 94. Take up, tahe up} Take up to heepe Q, (Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). Takt
up the King Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. per. & Bodl. 2}. Ill, vii, 57. anointed} annqynted Q, (Mus. per. and Bodl. 2). aurynted Q, (Capi ^
Dev. Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). Ill, vii, 58. as his bare head] of his lou*d head Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. imp. & BodL
I), on his lowd head Q, (Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). Ill, vii, 59. bue/d} layd Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. imp. & Bodl. x). ^m/(^ (MttS.
per. & Bodl. 2}. Ill, vii, 60. steUed} steeled Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. imp. & Bodl. i).
III, vii, 103. roguish} Om. Q, (Mus. per. & Bodl. 2).
IV, i, 10. poorly ledt} poorlie, leed, Q. (Cap. Dev. Mus. imp. & Bodl. l)«
parti, eyd, Q, (Mus. per. & Bodl. 2), IV, ii, 12. terror} terrer (^ (Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). curre Q, (Cap. Dev.
Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). IV, ii, 21. A mistress's command} coward Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. imp. &
Bodl. I). rV, ii, 21. Wear this; spare speech] this, spare (^ (Mus. per. & BodL 2). thit-
spare Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). rV, ii, 27. a woman's] a is omitted in Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. imp. & Bodl. i) IV, ii, 28. My fool usurps my body} Myfoote . . . body Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. impw
& Bodl. I). Afoole ...bedQ^ (Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). rV, ii, 29. worth the whistle} whistling Q, (Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). IV, ii, 32. f/j origin] it Q, (Cap. Dev. Mus. imp. & Bodl. i). ith Q, (Mus. per.
& Bodl. 2). IV, ii, 45. by him so benefited} benifited Q, (Mus. per. & Bodl. 2). beni/icted Q,
(Cap. Dev. Mus. imp. & Bodl. i).
37* APPENDIX
IVy ii» 47. these vile offences] this vild Q, (Mns. per. ft BodL 2). the «££/<^
(Cap. Dev. Mas. imp. & Bodl. i). IV9 ii, 49. Humamiyi Humanfy Q. (Cap. Dev. Mas. imp. ft BodL I). IV; % 53. not inau^st Fools do"] kncw^st fiols. do (^ (Cqi. Dev. Mns. impL ft
BodL I), knatdst^ fools do (^ (Mns. per. ft BodL 3). IV9 ii, 56. in our noiseless land] neystUs Q^ (Cap. Dev. Mns. imp. ft BodL l)«
neyules Q. (Mns. per. & Bodl. 2). rV, iit 57. thy state begins to threap thy staU begisu thereat Q, (Mns. per. ft
Bodl. 2). thy slayer ^gm threats Q; (Cap. Dev. Mas. imp. ft
Bodl. I). IV, ii, 58. fVhiUs thon,] fVhtTs Q, (Cap. Vet. Mns. imp. ft BodL l). fmi*ii
Q, (Mns. per. ft Bodl. 2}. TVp u, 6a Firoper deformity seems not] shewes Q, (Mns. per. ft BodL 2). IV9 ii, 68. Many, yonr manhood noti^ manhood otob^-^ (Mns. per. ft
BodL 2). manhood nouh^Q^ (Cap. Dev. Mns. imp. ft BodL l). TV, n, 78. aiovep You Jtattcers^ above you Instisers Q. (Mns. per. ft BodL 2).
above your Justices (^ (Cap. Dev. Mns. imp. ft Bo^. i). IV, vi, 225. The bounty and the benison of heaven.] The bomet and benk Q^
(Cap. Dev. Mns. per. ft BodL !» 2). IV, viy 226. To boot, and boot} to boot, to boot Q. (Mns. in^). ia seme iha
Q. (Cap. Dev. Mns. per. ft BodL i, 2). IV, vi, 227. Jlrst] Om. Q, (Cap. Dev. Mns. per. ft BodL 1, 2). IV,vi,239. «0ffpf^i/]>&f^'A/Q.(Cflp. Dev. Mns.per.ftBodL 1,2). IV, vi, 241. yonr costard or my balkw] your coster or my battero Q. (Cap. Dev,
Mns. per. ft BodL I, 2). your costerd ormybatQ^ (Mns. imp.), IV, vi, 255. nAyou. Let's see] you, lets Q^ (Mns. imp.), you lets Q^ (Cap. Dev.
Mns. per. ft Bodl. x, 2). TV, vi, 256. he speaks of May be] if may Q, (C^i. Dev. Mns. per ft BodL l»
2). of may (^ (Mns. imp.).
IV, vi, 262. Reads] A Letter (^ (Mns. imp.); Om; (^ (Cap. Dev. Mns. per. ft
BodL 1, 2).
V, i, 3. alteration'} abdication Q. (Cap. Dev. Mns. per. ft BodL 1, 2). V, ill, 29. One step] And'Q^ (Cap. Dev. Mns. per. ft BodL 1, 2).
V, iii, 48. and appoisUed guard} Om. Q. (Cap. Dev. Mns. per. ft BodL 1, 2). V, ill, 5a common bosom} common bossome Q, (Mns. imp.), corem bossom Q^
(Cap. Dev. Mns. per. ft Bodl. i, 2). y# iii» 55* ussion. At this time We} session at this time, wee Q, (Mm. imp.).
session at this time, mee Q, (Dip. Dev. Mns. per. ft BodL i, 2). V,Ui, 58. ihaepiess} sharpnes (^ (Mns. imp.), shasfa Q^ (Cap. Dev. Mai»
per. ft Bodl. i, 2).
DATE OF THE COMPOSITION
Toe Date of the Composition of this play can be ascertained with an unusual degree of accuracy. We have one limit fixed by external evidence, and another by internal^ and the term between the two consists of merely three years : from 1603 to 1606.
The external evidence is supplied by the Stationers' Registers, which give us the Christmas holidays in 1606 as the earliest date before which the play must of course have been written. To the internal evidence we must look for the latest date after which it must have been written.
There are three items of internal evidence, viz : first, the references to Dr Hars- net's book, noted by Theobald ; secondly, the use by Edgar of ' British man ' instead of Englishman in the popular rhyme; this was noted by Malonb; and thirdly, the reference by Gloucester to the ' late eclipses,* to which attention was called by Mr Alois Wright.
First, Dr Harsnet's book. This was published in 1603. See III, iv, 53. Of the three items, this is really the only one that is sure beyond a peradventure. Concern- ing the other two, there may be more or less difference of opinion.
Of the Second, Malonb (vol. i, p. 352, 1790) says : ' This play is ascertained to
< have been written after October, 1604, by a minute change which Shakespeare made ' in a traditional line put into the mouth of Edgar : " Fie, foh, fum, I smell the blood *of a British man." [See III, iv, 175.] The old metrical saying, which is found
* in one of Nashe's pamphlets, printed in 1596, and in other books, was: " Fy, fa,
* fum, I smell the blood of an £ng/ishmanJ* Though a complete union of Eng-
* land and Scotland, which was projected in the first parliament that met after James's
* accession to the English throne, was not carried into effect till a century afterwards,
* the two kingdoms were united in namf, and he was proclaimed King of Great
* Britain f 24 October, 1604.*
Malons therefore assigns the composition to 1605, and thinks it ' extremely prob- able ' that it was performed for the first time in March or April of that year, * in which *year the old play of King Leir^ that had been entered at Stationers* Hall in 1594, <was printed by Simon Stafford for John Wright, who, we may presume, finding
< Shakespeare's play successful, hoped to palm the spurious one on the public for his.' See p. 353. It is to be regretted that Malone did not furnish the proofs of his asser- tion that the old play of 1594 is identical with that which was afterwards printed in 1605. I am strongly inclined to believe that it is a fact, but I think it can only be conjecture when we assert that it is so. After imputing to Simon Stafford an intention to deceive the public, Malone is obliged to put the date of the performance as far back as March or April, 1605. It was on the eighth of May in that year that Stafford entered his book at Stationers' Hall, and if Shakespeare's Lear was then on the stage, or had been lately, it must have been written some months before. If, as Malone supposes, it was performed in March, it must have been written in January or February, in order to keep it within the year 1605. I do not remember that Malone anywhere expresses himself quite as explicitly as thb, but if he had he would have carried Chalmers completely with him ; and if he had extended the compo- sition over a little longer space than two months, and stretched it into December or
32 ♦ 377
378 APPENDIX
November, 1604, he would have taken with him Drake also, and probably all others who profess to detect sharp practice between the lines of Simon Stafford's title-page; bat, as I said when speaking of the entry of Stafford's book in the Stationers* Regis- ters, these arguments, founded on a printer's chance phrase, are to me only 'gracious fooling.' Simon Stafford, in all likelihood, tells the truth when he says his King Liir was ' latelie iictei.' I dare say it was a popular play ; it is quite a good speci- men of the third-rate class of comedies, and its success was sufficiently marked to suggest to Shakespeare a tragedy on the same subject. And as to Stafford's calling it a tragedy,— I really think that he was to a certain extent justified in retain- ing the impression which the whole drift of the play except the last two or three scenes left upon his mind. If the spectacle of a respectable elderly king, reduced to such an extremity of hunger as to induce his faithful attendant to offer him his bare and living arm as an article of diet, be not tragic, it is difficult to say what tragedy is. Moreover, Dryden in his Preface to The Spanish Friar speaks of a
* Tragedy ending hafpify,* The half-title of Tate's version of this very pby reads, ' The tragedy of King Lear,' and we all know that the declared purpose of that version if as to turn it into a comedy ; and when we find -even Campbell, the poet, in hb Remarhs on this play, speaking of this same Jdng Leir as ' a tragedy,' I think we ought not to be too severe on an Elizabethan printer for applying to it the same title. In these days, when Henry VIII, Nero, and Judas Iscariot find vindi- cators, I really think a faint murmur might be raised for humble Simon Stafford.
As I have said, Chalbcers {Supplemental Apology^ p. 413) concurs generally with Malone in the belief that Lear was written early in 1605, but he thinks Malone is mistaken in some of his premises. For instance, he says that the argument, derived from the change of English to < British,' that the play was written after October, 1604, is not absolutely conclusive^ for ' the fact is that there was issued from Green- ' wich a royal proclamation, on the 15th of May, 1603, declaring that, until a com-
* plete union, the king held, and esteemed, the two realms, 9S presently united, and as ' one kingdom ; and the two poets, Daniel, and Drayton, who wrote gratulatory verses ' on his accession, spoke of the two kingdoms as united, thereby, into one realm, by ' the name of Britain ; and of the inhabitants of England and Scotland, as one ' people, by the denomination of British. Before King James arrived at London,
* Daniel offered tc him : *A Panegyrike Congratulatory^ delivered to the Kinf^s most
* excellent Majesty at Burleigh-Harrington in Rutlandshire^* which was printed in 1603, for Blount, with a Defence of Rhime :
' Lo here the glory of a greater day Than England ever heretofore could tee In all her days. . . .
And now she is, and now tn peace therefore Skaie kandt with nnian, O l^ou mlghtie state. Now thott art all ^eat BrOain, and no more, /^ Scat, no Eniiith now, nor no debate.'
*This very rare publication of Daniel confutes, by the fact, the G>mmentator*s rea- *soning, from the proclamation ; for we see how a poet did write before any procla-
* mation issued upon the point.'
Drake {Shahespeare and his Times, "i 457) thinks it 'more probable that its pro- duction is to be attributed to the close of 1604,' for three reasons : First, if the change from English to British were made out of compliment to the king, the compliment would be all the greater if the change were made between the declaratory proclama- tion of May, X603, and the definitive proclamation of October, 1604. Secondly, the
DATE OF THE COMPOSITION 379
old play of KingLeir was entered on the Stationers' books on the 8th of May, 1605, <as it was lately acted.' Now, as the publisher hoped to impose on the public this old tragedy for Shakespeare's successful drama, it was evidently intended that the word * lately^ should be referred by the reader to Shakespeare's play; hence, it fol- lows that Lear had been acted some months before, and was not then actually per- forming. This inference harmonises with the supposition that Lear was written about the end of 1604, but does not agree with Malone's theory that it appeared in April, 1605. Thirdly, *CymbeliHi is assigned to 1605, and, in consequence of the removal of The Wintef^s TaU to 1613,' the year 1604 is left vacant for the admission of Lear, Knight observes that ' Malone and Drake are at issue on a question of merely three tnonths, when the facts, which we really have, give us a range of three years.' * It is
* sufficient,' adds Knight, ' for us to be confirmed in the belief, derived from internal < evidence, that Lear was produced at that period when the genius of Shakespeare « was " at its very point of culmination." ' He also points out that the Folio has < English' in IV, vi, 249 [see his note ad UeJ], despite the fact that the Quartos changed it to British^ not only here, but in Edgar's ' Fee, fa, fum.'
Mr Wright thinks it weU not to lay too much stress upon the change from
* English ' of the Folio to BriHsh of the Quarto, and to infer therefrom that the line in the Folio was written before the royal proclamation in October, 1604, and corrected before the Quartos were printed in 1608. < It is as likely,' sajrs the Editor of the Qar- endon Edition, * that Shakespeare, writing not long after 1604, while the change was
* still fresh, and before the word ' British ' had become familiar in men's mouths, may
* have inadvertently written * English^' and subsequently changed it to ' British.' '
The Third item of indirect internal evidence is thus set forth by Mr Au>is Wright :
* We are helped forward another step in determining the date by a passage in Glon*
* coster's speech (I, ii, 98, et seq.) : ' These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend * ' no good to us.' By those who observed the signs in the air and sky the great
* eclipse of the sun, which took place in October, 1605, had been looked forward. to 'with apprehension as the precursor of evil, especially as it was preceded by an
* eclipse of the moon within the space of a month. In arguing against such appre-
* hensions, John Harvey, of King's Lynn, who reasoned with the * wisdom of nature,' ' in his book called A Diseoursive ProbUme Concerning Prophesies^ printed in 1588, « wrote as follows (p. 119) :
' " Moreouer, the like concourse of two Eclipses in one, and the same month, shal ''hereafter more euidently in shew, and more effectually in deed, appeere. Anno *< 1590. the 7. and 21. dales of luly : and Anno 1598. the 11. and 25. dales of Feb- *<ruary; and Anno 160Z. the 29. day of Nouember, and 14. of December: but espe* "cially, and most notably ^mitf 1605. the second day of October, when the sunne ''shall be obscured aboue 11. digits, and darknes appeere euen at midday, the Moone ** at the very next full immediately preceding hauing likewise beene Eclipsed. Wher* " fore as two Eclipses in the space of one month, are no great strange nouitieSy so if " either they, or an huge fearefull Eclipse of the Sunne were to iustifie or confirme ''tlus oracle: the author thereof should haue stued his wisedome vntiU after the " foresaid yeere of Christ, 1605. when so rare a spectacle shall be scene, or the yeeres ^ 1606. 1607. or 1608. immediately following, when so mightie an Eclipse shall so ••perlously rage."
' Reading this in connection with the speech of Gloucester, which has been re- 'ferred to, and with what Edmund, the sceptic of the time, subsequently (I, ii, 120^
380 APPENDIX
*I24, 125) laji, *0, tihese eclipses portend these divisions/ and, *I am thinkings ^^brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these edipses/ <it can scarcely be doubted that Shakespeare had in his mind the great eclipse, and *thac Liar was written while the recollection of it was still fresh, and while the « ephemeral literature of the day abounded with pamphlets foreboding the conse- *quences that were to follow. If we imagine further that, in Gloucester's words, ** machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders follow us disquietly ««to our graves,' there is a reference to the Gunpowder Plot of Nor. 5, 1605, we « have another approximation to the date. But, without insisting too much upon this,
* it is, I think, highly probable that Shakespeare did not begin to write King Lear < till towards the end of the year 1605, and that his attention may have been directed
* to the story as a subject for tragedy by the revival of the older play above men* 'tioned, which was published in the same year«
* Having now reduced the period of compoation to the narrow limits between the 'end of 1605 and Christmas, 1606, any attempt to assign the date more exactly must «be purely conjectural and derived from internal evidence. It would be difficult to
* fix the precise season to which the storm in the third Act is appropriate. Various •indications in the previous Act seem to point to the winter; sudi as the Fool's •speedi (n, iv, 45), * Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way,' though •of course this had also another meaning. Again, the signs of the gathering storm
* are wintry, * the bleak winds do sorely ruffle,' « 'tis a wild night ' ; but Lear's apos* « trophe is addressed to a violent summer tempest, and so Kent describes it And in •accordance with this all the colouring of the fourth Act is of the summer. Lear •Isfecn
Crqum'd with ruik fttxalter and fiiiTOir-wMdf , With hor^ocks, hemlocks, nettles, cuckow-flowen. Darnel, axid all the idle weeds that grov la our sustaining com.*
••Search every acre in the high-grown field,' points to July, and we must not insist «too much upon strict botanical accuracy, for this would be late for cudcoo-floweis, as
* well as for die samphire-gathering in a subsequent scene, which generally takes place •in May. Perhaps Shakespeare began the play in the winter of 1605, and finished it
* in the summer of 1606, while the fields were still covered with the unharvested com^ •and the great storm of March was still fresh in his recoUectioiu'
Mr MOBSRLY thinks that the play must have been written in 1605-6, * in the midst •of the stirring events connected with the Gunpowder Plot; and the absence of
* allusion to them is a striking instance of the way in which Shakespeare's mind, like •that of Goethe in after-time, could keep aloof from subjects of absorbing public •interest, and live simply among its own creations.*
X>TCB adopts Malone's view (which, however, he erroneously attributes to Sn3> tins), that its date is March or April, 1605.
Dr Dblius thinks that it must have been written in 1604 or 1605, in Shakespeare^s fortieth or forty-first year.
Mr FLXAT {Shake^n Manuai^'^.i^i) says that it was probably produced early ia 1605, as the old play was then reprinted, and entered on the eighth of May as • lately acted' in order to deceive the pnblie.
I ^\^^ we must remain content with the term of three years; no date more pre* die than this will probably ever gain general acceptance. I am afraid we are con*
DATE OF THE COMPOSITION 381
sidering too curiously in attempting to ascertain the predse year or time of the year. To suppose that when Shakespeare alludes to winter there must be actually icicles hanging by the wall, or that when he mentions flowers the meadows must be painted with delight before his vexy eyes, is to put a narrow limitation to his imagination. His allusions to contemporaxy events are not always so defined as to be at once manifest to close students or accomplished scholars. As we hare seen, one editor discovers in this play a possible allusion to the Gunpowder Fh>t, while another dis* cems none. To a certain extent this same Tagueness holds true in regard to eclipses and other natural phenomena. I cannot but think we deal unworthily With Shake* speare's genius when we suppose that he needed, or that he himself fdt that he needed, to resort to such allusions in order to produce dramatic efiecti. While we all agree in believing that he throws around his dramas the atmosphere of the times in which the scenes are laid, it can scarcely be but that his auditors, and assuredly Shakespeare himself, would have felt the jar that an allusion to an event of yester* day would have instantly occasioned. At the same time, so truly did Shakespeare write for the hour then present that it is presumptuous to say what he would not do for thai hour's success. There are instances, undoubtedly, in his plays where he ftllttdes to recent local events ; but I do not think the number as large as is generally supposed.
Since the foregoing was written the article by Mr F^leay appeared, from which extracts were made at the dose of the preceding artide on The Text, Mr Fleay is so eminent in all that pertains to metrical tests, and has devoted so much learning to the discovery of the dates of these plays, that it is with rductance that I acknow* ledge my inability to follow him to his exact conclusion. As will be seen, he follows the popular tide in reading fraud in Simon Stafford's entry on the Stationers* Registers. The following extract from Mr TLUCtt artide bears upon the present subjects < The date had long since been determined by Malone, as between October, 1604, and the 8th of May, 1605, on satisfactory grounds; but Mr Aldis Wright has shifted it forward to the summer of 1606, in the plausible introduction to his edition of the play. Now, the whole theory of metrical tests depends on the date of this play. Shakespeare wrote PeruUs (or his share of it), in 1606; and Ptriclis is as certainly in his fourth manner as Lear is in his third; if the periods overlap my theories are worthless^ and Lear and Pericles written within a few months would bring them dangerously near. Hence I have examined this question with spedal minuteness, and, I am glad to add, have been rewarded by a positive result The play wea written before May 8, 1605. For the old play of Lor (written for the Queen's men, circa 1588, played by the Queen's and Sussex's men at the Rose, 1593, April 6; entered for E. White, 1594, May 14; entered for S. Stafford, and printed by him for J. Wright, to whom he assigned it, 1605, May 8) was put on the Stationers' books as The Tragical History of King Leir and his three daughters^ &*c,, as IT WAS LATELY ACTED. Now Mr Aldis Wright himself noticed that no writer (historical or theatrical) had given a tragic ending to this story till Shakespeare made his play ; * Cordelia's /j/^ and character are all his own,' says he. Hence the old * Chronicle History' could not have been described as *7htgicaJ* in 1605 had not a tragedy on the subject been < lately acted,' nor could the tragedy have been any other than Shakespeare's. Hence Malone was right in his date and in his in- ference that Stafford (who had.to do with the surreptitious editions of Pericles and Edward III) wished to pass the old play off as Shakespeare's. Wright, however.
382
APPENDIX
*bad not the impudence to put Stafford's ' Tragical History ' on his title-page, though
* he kept the ' lately acted/ which was probably, as far as the older play is concerned. *not true. Accordingly, when the real 'tragedy ' was issued in 1608, Butter marks *his edition as the genuine * Dirty Dick/ by putting ' Chronicle History' on its fore- ' head; only in the Folio does the real name of * Tragedy' appear. The date, then, •is early in 1605.*
Again < the wheel has come full circle ' ; the same is true of Wright and Fleay as of Malone and Chalmers : they differ only by a few months. Wright supposes that Shakespeare began the play, and Fleay that he ended it, in 1605.
For me it is sufficient that we have the play ; and all these discussions as to the time when it was written, even if they could give us the very day of the week and the very hour of the day, would still remain among the extrinsic facts which, it seems fated, are to be all that we shall ever learn about Shakespeare. While I am reading such delightful books as Shakspere, His Mind and Art ^ I yield to the glamour and confess the charm ; and, kindled by the enthusiasm of the Director of the Nem Shakspere Society, and of his fellow- workers, I am persuaded that naught's had, all 's spent, when our researches are not devoted to the discovery of the order of the plays ; but I turn to the plays themselves, and, lost in their grandeur and their beau- ties, find that I am indifferent as to when they were written, where they were written, or even by whom they were written. Standards for measuring them we have none; they stand by themselves, written by no mortal hand. Well is it for him, and for us, that the man Shakespeare has faded, and left not a wrack behind. No outward life could rise to the grandeur of these plays.
Shall we ever outgrow the wisdom of Lessing? In one of his Hamburg criti- cisms, speaking of the pitiful spectacle made by Voltaire when suffering himself to be shown to the theatre after the performance of one of his plays, Lessing says :
* I know not which strikes me as the more pitiful, the childish curiosity of the public, ' or the conceited complaisance of the poet. How then do people think a poet looks ?
* Not like other men ? And how weak must be the impression which the work has
* made when, in the same moment, the only curiosity is to hold up the figure of the
* master alongside of it I The true masterpiece, it seems to me, fills us so wholly
* with itself that we forget the author, and look upon it, not as the production of an ' individual, but of universal nature. ... I suppose the true reason why we know so « little that is certain about the person and life of Homer is the excellence of his ' poems. We stand full of astonishment by the broad, rushing river, without thinking ' of its source in the mountains. We care not to know, we find our account in for- 'getting, that Homer, the schoolmaster in Smyrna, the blind beggar, is the very ' Homer who so enraptures us in his works. He leads us into the presence of the *gods and heroes; the company must be very tedious, we must be greatly ennnied 'by it, if we are so very curious to know all about the doorkeeper who let us in. ' The illusion must be very weak, one must be little natural, but all the more sophis- •ticated, when one is so anxious about the artist.'
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT
Of the two tragic stories in Lear^ the source from which Shakespeare derived the subordinate one, that of Gloucester, is well known. The extract from Sidney's Arcadia^ containing the story of * the Paphlagonian unkind king/ will be found on p. 386 ; it was pointed out, as similar to Gloucester's, by our countrywoman, Mrs Lennox, in 1754, and I know of only one commentator, Hunter (see IV, vi, 66], who has questioned, since then, the general belief that it was the original of Shakespeare's secondary plot.
There is some doubt, however, as to the source from which the main plot of Lear is directly derived. The story itself, in its broad outlines of doting paternal kind- ness repaid with filial ingratitude, and paternal harshness requited with devoted love, is as old as almost any story in English literature. It is told by Geoffrey of Mon- mouth in his Hiitoria JBrUonum, by Layamon in his £rut, by Robert of Gloucester, by Fabyan in his ChranicU^ by Spenser in his Faery Queene, by Holinshed, by Camden, and it is found in the Mirour for Afagistratis^ the Gesta Romanorumf in Warner's Albion^s England, and, I dare say, elsewhere. It is not, however, likely that Shakespeare went to any of the older of these authorities for his ma- terials; we know how fond he was of Holipshed, and unless there were a drama ready to his hand to be remodelled, we should look to Holinshed ; and there, indeed, some of the best of modem editors do find the immediate source of Shakespeare's Z^ar, But I am afraid I cannot agree with them. Holinshed, I think, furnished merely the indirect source of Lear, I think we can approach one step nearer and discern the direct source in the ante-Shakespearian drama of the ChronicU History of King Leir, which Haluwell, following Malone, says was dramatized as early as 1593 or 1594, and is probably the same that Edward White entered in the Stationers' Registers in the latter of these years, and which reappeared as the ' tragecaU historic ' printed by Simon Stafford in 1605. The author of this old comedy of King Ldr undoubtedly drew from the old chroniclers, probably Holinshed; and Shakespeare, I think, drew from him. But what false impressions are conveyed in the phrases which we have to use to express the process whereby Shakespeare converted the stocks and stones of the old dramas and chronicles into living, breathing men and women ! We say he ' drew his original ' from this source, or he ' found his materials' in that source. But how much did he * draw,' or what did he ' find ' ? Granting that he drew from Holinshed, or from the old comedy, or whence you please, where did he find Lear's madness, or the pudder of the elements, or the inspired babblings of the Fool? Of whatsoever makes his tragedies sublime and heaven-high above all other human compositions,— -of that we find never a trace. And this minds me j to say that of all departments of Shakespearian study none seems to me more profit- less than this search for the sources whence Shakespeare gathered his dramas; the I distance b always immeasurable between the hint and the fulfilment; what to our I purblind eyes is a bare, naked rock becomes, when gilded by Shakespeare's heavenly alchemy, encrusted thick all over with jewels. When, after reading one of his tragedies, we turn to what we are pleased to call the 'original of his plot,' I am reminded of those glittering gems, of which Heine speaks, that we see at night in lovely gardens, and think must have been left there 1^ kings' children at play, but when we look for these jewels by day we see only wretched little worms which crawl painfully away, and which the foot forbears to crush only out of strange pity.
383
384 APPENDIX
If we must find an originBl for Lear^ I think it is in the old drama, and not ia Holinshed; and I mean by this, that, in reading this old drama, every now and then there comes across ns an incident, or a line, or a phrase, that reminds nt of Shake* speare's Lear^ and that this cannot be said of Holinshed*s stoiy. For instance, in Liiryft find a faithful courtier who defends Cordelia to her father, and the old king replies, ' Urge this no more, and if thou love thy life.' And this same courtier afterwards accompanies the old king in his exile as his faithful companion and ser- vant. Again, in the trial-scene Cordelia murmurs aside her abhorrence at the hypoc- risy of her sisters' asseverations of afiection. Again, Leir alludes to Gonorill*8 ' young bones.' Again, Perillus says of Leir, ' But he the myrrour of mild patience, Puts up « all wrongs and never gives reply.' Shakespeare's Lear says : * No I will be the
* pattern of all patience, I will say nothing.' Again, when Leir recognises Cordelia after their estrangement he kneels to her. But it is needless to multiply instances. I have given on p. 393 et seq. an abstract of the old drama, much too long and tiresome to be reprinted entire, and the reader can judge for himself, if he take any interest in a question which is, I repeat, to me a barren one. No one, I think, has done fuller justice to the old drama, which, by the way, Capell called a ' silly old play,' than Campbell, the poet, who, in his Remarks on Shakespeare's Lear^ says : * The elder tragedy of ' King Leir is simple and touching. There is one entire scene in it, the meeting of 'Cordelia with her father in a lonely forest, which, with Shakespeare's Lear va'my
* memory and heart, I could scarcely read with dry eyes. This Leir is a pleasing
* tragedy, and, though it precedes our poet's Lear^ is not its prototype, and its mild
* merits only show us the wide expanse of difference between respectable talent and
< commanding inspiration. The two Lears have nothing in common but their aged
< weakness, their general goodness of heart, their royal rank, and their misfortunes. ' The ante-Shakespearian Lear is a patient, simple old man, who bean his sorrows
* very meekly, till Cordelia arrives with her husband, the King of France, and hb
* victorious army, and restores her father to the throne of Britain. ... In the old 'play, Leir has a friend Perillus, who moves our interest, though not so deeply as
* Kent in the later and grander drama. But, independently of Shakespeare's having
* created a new Lear, he has sublimated the old tragedy into a new one by an entire 'originality in the spiritual portraiture of its personages. • • • In fine, wherever Shake- 'speare works on old materials you will find him not wiping dusted gold, but extract- « ing gold from dust, where none but himself could have made the golden extraction.'
The story of Leir, as told by Hounshed ( The second Booke of the historU ofEng^ land^ chaps, v, vi, ed. 1574) is as follows :
' Leir the sonne of Baldud, was admitted ruler ouer the Britaines, in the yeeie of ' the world 3105, at what time loas raigned as yet in luda. This Leir was a prince ' of right noble demeanor, goueming hb land and subiects in great wealth. He made ' the towne of Caerlier nowe called Leicester, which standeth vpon the riner of Sore. ' It is written that he had by his wife three daughters without other issue, whose 'names were Gonorilla, Regan, and Cordeilla, which daughters he greatly loned, but ' specially Cordeilla the yoongest farre aboue the two elder. When this Leir therefore ' was come to great yeeres, & began to waxe vnweldie through age, he thought to ' vnderstand the affections of his daughters towards him, and preferre hir whome ' he best loued, to the succession ouer the kingdome. Whervpon he first asked ' Gonorilla the eldest, how well shee loued him : who calling hir gods to record, 'protested, that she loued him more than hir owne life, which by right and 1
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 38$
•shoulde be most deere ynto hir. With which answer the father being well pleased,
* tnmed to the second, and demanded of hir how well she loued him : who answered
* (confirming hir saiengs with great othes) that she loued him more than toung could
* expresse, and farre aboue all other creatures of the world.
' Then called he his yoongest daughter Coideilla before him, and asked of hir what
* account she made of him : vnto whome she made this answer as followeth : Know-
< ing the great loue and fatherlie zeale that you haue always borne towards me, (for
* the which I maie not answere you otherwise than I thioike, and as my conscience
* leadeth me) I protest vnto you, that I haue loued you euer, and will continuallie
* (while I hue) loue you as my naturall father And if you would more vnderstand ' of the loue that I beare you, assertaine your selfe, that so much as you haue, so
* much you are worth, and so much I loue you, and no more. The father bemg ' nothing content with this answer, married his two eldest daughters, the one vnto 'Henninus, the Duke of Comewal, and the other vnto Maglanus, the Duke of ' Albania, betwixt whome he willed and ordeined that his land should be deuided
* after his death, and the one halfe thereof immediatelie should be assigned to theni
* in hand : but for the third daughter Cordeilla he resented nothing.
* Neueitheles it fortuned that one of the princes of Galb'a (which now is called
* France) whose name was Agonippus, hearing of the beautie, womanhood, and good
* conditions of the said Cordeilla, desired to haue hir in manage, and sent ouer to
* hir father, requiring that he mighte haue hir to wife : to whome answere was made,
* that he might haue his daughter, but as for anie dower he could haue none, for <all was promised and assured to hir other sisteis alreadie. Aganippus notwith*
* standing this answer of deniall to receiue anie thing by way of dower with Cor«
* deilla, tooke hir to wife, onlie moued thereto (I sale) for respect of hir person and
< amiable vertues. This Aganippus was one of the twelue kings that ruled Gallia in
* those dales, as in the Brittish historic it is recorded But to proceed.
' After that Leir was fallen into age, the two dukes that had married his two
< eldest daughters, thinking long yer the gouemment of the land did come to theii « hands, arose against him in armour, and reft from him the gouemance of the
< land, vpon conditions to be continued for tenne of life : by the which he was put « to his portion, that is, to Hue after a rate assigned to him for the maintenance of his
* estate, which in processe of time was diminished as well by Maglanus as by Hen* ' ninus. But the greatest griefe that Leir tooke, was to see the vnkindnesse of his
* daughters, which seemed to thinke that all was too much which their father had,
* the same being neuer so little : in so much, that going from the one to the other, he
* was brought to that mberie, that scarslie they would allow him one seruaunt to waite
* vpon him.
* In the end, such was the vnkindnesse, or (as I roaie sale) the vnnaturalnesse
* which he found in his two daughters, notwithstanding their faire and pleasant
* words vttered in time past, that being constreined of necessitie, he fled the hmd, and
* sailed into Gallia, there to seeke some comfort of his youngest daughter Cordeilla ' whom before time he hated. The ladie Cordeilla hearing that he was arriued in
* poore estate, she first sent to him priuilie a certeine summe of monie to apparell ' himselfe withall, and to reteine a certein number of seruants that might attende
* vpon him in honorable wise, as apperteined to the estate which he had borne : and nhen so accompanied, she appointed him to come to the court, which he did, and <was so ioifuUie, honorablie, and louinglie receiued, both by his sonne in law
* Aganippus, and also by his daughter Cordeilla, that his hart was greatlie com*
33 2
386 APPENDIX
'forted : for he was no lesse booored, than if he had becne king of the whole t
* trie himself e.
* Now when he had infonned his son in kw and his daughter in what sort he had ' beene ysed by his other daughters, Aganippns cansed a mightxe annie to be pot in ' readinesse, and likewise a greate nanie of ships to be rigged, to passe oner inta ' Britaine with Leir his &ther in law, to see him againe restored to his kingdome
* It was accorded, that Cordeilla shoald also go with him to take possession of the
* land, the which he promised to leane Tnto hir, as the rightlnll inheritoor after hia
* decesse, notwithstanding any (bnner grant made^jo hir sisters or to their hnsbands 'in anie maner of wise.
* Hererpon, when this armie and nanie of ships were readie, Leir and his dangh-
* ter Cordeilla with hir hvsband tooke the sea, and arrining in Britaine, fought with
* their enimies, and discomfited them in battell, in the which Maglanas and Henninns
* were slainet and then was Leir restored to his kingdome, which he mled after this 'by the space of twoyeeres, and then died, foftie yeeres after he-first began to reigne. ' His bodie was buried at Leicester in a vant vnder the chanell of the riner of Sore 'beneath the towne.
'CordeiUa the yoongest daughter of Leir was admitted Q. and supreme gooemesse *of Britaine, in the yeere of the worid 3155, before the bylding of Rome 54, Uzia 'was then reigning in Juda, and Jeroboam ouer IsraelL This CordeiUa after hir 'fioher's deceasse ruled the land of Britaine rig^ woithilie during the ^Moe of fine 'yeeres, in which meane time hir husband died, and then about the end of those 'fine yeeres, hir two nephewes Biargan and Cnnedag, sonnes to hir aforesaid sisters, 'disdaining to be vnder the gouemment of a woman, leuied warre against hir, and '' destroied a great part of the land, and finallie tooke hir prisoner, and laid hir fittt in ^ ward, wherewith she tooke snche griefe, being a woman of a manlie oooiage, and " despairing to reoouer Ubeitie, there she slue hiiselfe.'
The following extract from Snt FRIUP ^vofSfX^^ Arcadia (lib. ii, pp. 153-158, ed. 1598, as quoted in the Clarendon ed.) contains the stoiy out of which Shakespeare moulded Gloucester's tragic fate. It is called, in ed. 1590, 'The pitifuU state, and ' stoiy of the Fkphlagonian vnkinde king, and his kind sonn^ first related bj the son» ' then by the Uind fisUher ' :
' It was in the kingdome of Galacia^ the season being (as in the depth of winter) 'Terie cold, and as then sodainlie growne to so exireame and fonle a stonne, that 'nener any winter (I thtnke) brought foith a fowler child: so that the Princes were ' euen cOpelled by the haile, that the pride of the wtnde blew into their faces, to sedce 'some shrowding place which a certain hollow rocke offering Tuto them, they made 'it their shield against the tempests fnrie. And so staying there, till the violence 'thereof was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiuing them, ' being hid within that rude canapie, held a stnunge and pitifuU disputation, which ' made them step out, yet in such sort, as they might see Tuseene. There they per- ' ceiued an aged man, and a young, scarcelie come to the age of a man, both poorely 'amyed, extreamely weather-beaten ; the olde man Uind, the young man leading 'him : and yet through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appeare a Idnd ' of noUenesse, not sntable to that affliction. But the fixst words they heard, were 'these of the old man. Well Lecnatus (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to
* leade me to that which should end my griefe, and thy trouble, let me now intreat thee to leane me : feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, and nothing
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 387
doth become me but miserie : feare not the daanger of my blind steps, I cannot
* Tall worse then I am : and do not I pray thee, do not obstinately continue to infect
* thee with my wretchednesse : but flie, flie from this region only worthie of me. ' Deare father (answered he) do not take away from me the only remnant of my ' happinesse : while I haue power to do you seruice, I am not whollie miserable. ' Ah my Sonne (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow strave to breake his 'heart) how enill fits it me to haue such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse •vpbraid my wickednesse ? These doleful! speeches, and some others to like pur-
* pose (well shewing they had not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moued the
< Princes to go out vnto them, and aske the younger what they were ? Sirs (answered ' he with a good grace, and made the more agreeable by a certaine noble kind of
* piteousnesse) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie, so well here
* knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. Indeed our state
* is such, as though nothing is so needfull vnto vs as pitie, yet nothing b more dan* ' gerous vnto vs, then to make our selues so knowne as may stirre pitie ; but your ' presence promiseth that crueltie shall not ouer-runne hats : and if it did, in truth
* our state is sunke below the degree of feare.
' This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of ^ Paphlagonia^ by the hard-hearted vngratefulnesse of a sonne of his, depriued, not
) 'onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces were euer able to spoyle him) ' but of his sight, the riches which Nature graunts to the poorest creatures. Whereby^
I ' and by other his vnnaturall dealings, he hath bene drinen to such griefe, as euen
< now he would haue had me to haue led him to the top of this rocke, thence to cast I ' himselfe headlong to death : and so would haue made me, who receiued my life
* of him, to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen, said he, if
* either of you haue a father, and feele what dutifull affection is engraffed in a sonnes
* heart, let me Intreat you to conueigh this afflicted Prince to some place of rest and
* securitie : amongst your worthie acts it shall be none of the least, that a king of such ' might and fame, & so vniustlie oppressed, is in any sort by yon relieued.
' But before they could make him answere, his father beganne to speake. Ah my ' Sonne, said he, how euill an Historian are yon, that leaue out the chiefe knot of all ' the discourse ? my wickednesse, my wickednesse : and if thou doest it to spare my ' eares, (flie only sense now left me proper for knowledge) assure thy selfe thou doest ' mistake me: and I take witnesse of that Sunne which you see (with that he cast vp
* his blind eyes, as if he would hunt for light) and wish my selfe in worse case then ' I do wish my selfe, which is as euill as may be, if I speake vntrulie, that nothing
* b so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know
* you Gentlemen (to whom from my heart I wish that it may not pr6ue some ominous ' foretoken of misfortune to haue met with such a miser as I am) that whatsoeuer my « son (0 God, that truth binds me to reproch him with the name of my son) hath said ' is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true, that hauing had in lawfull mar- 'iage, of a mother fit to beare royall children, this sonne (such a one as partly yoa
* see, and better shall know by my short declaration) and so enioyed the expectations ' in the world of him, till he was growne to iustifie their expectations (so as I needed
* enuie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leaue another ones-selfe after
* me) I was caried by a bastard sonne of mine (if at least I be bound to beleeue the ' words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate» ■ lastlie to destroy, or to do my best to destroy this sonne (I thinke you thinke) vnde- *seruing destruction. What wayes he vsed to bring me to it, if I should tell you, I
/
388 APPENDIX
< should tediousUe trouble you with as much poisonous bypocrisie, desperate fraud,
* sihooth malice, hidden ambition, and smiling enuie, as in ante lining person could <be harboured: but I list it not; no remembrance of naughtinesse delights me but 'mine owne; and me thinks, the accusing his traps might in some maner excuse
* my fault, which certainlie I lothe to do. But the conclusion is, that I gaue oiders <to some servants of mine, whom I thought as apt for such charities as my selfe, to
* leade him out into a forrest, and there to kill him.
' But those theeues (better natured to my sonne then myselfe] spared his life, let- ' ting him go to leame to line poorely : which he did, giuing himselfe to be a prinate 'souldier in a countrey here by: but as he was ready to be greatly aduanced for
* some noble peeces of seruice which he did, he heard newes of me : who (drunke
* in my affection to that vnlawfull and vnnaturall sonne of mine) suffered my selfe so 'to be gouemed by him, that all fanours and punishments passed by him, all ofiSces,
* and places of importance distributed to his fauorites ; so that ere I was aware, I had
* left my selfe nothing but the name of a King : which he shortly wearie of too, with *many indignities (if any thing may be called an indignitie, which was laid vpon me)
* threw me out of my seat, and put out my eyes; and then (proud in his tyrannic) *let me go, neither imprisoning, nor killing me; but rather delighting to make me
* feele my miserie; miserie indeed, if ever there were anie; full of wretchednesses ' fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltinesse. And as he came to the crowne by so 'vniu^ means, as vniustlie he kept it, by force of straunger souldiers in CiHatUlSf the 'neasts of tyrannic, and murderers of libertie; disarming all his owne countrimen, 'that no man durst shew himself a wel-willer of mine : to say the truth (I thinke)
* few of them being so (considering my cruell follie to my good sonne, and foolish 'kindnesse to my ynkind bastard :) but if there were any who felt a pitie of so great ' a fall, and had yet any sparkes of vnslaine dutie left in them towards me; yet durst
* they not shew it, scarcelie with giuing me almes at their doores; which yet was the 'onlie sustenance of my distressed life, no bodie daring to shew so much charitie, as *to lend me a hand to guide my darice steps : till this sonne of mine (God knowes, 'worthy of a more vertnous, and more fortunate fiatther) forgetting my abhominaUe 'wrongs, not recking daunger, and neglecting the present good way hee was in of ' dxaxkg himselfe good, came hither to do this kind office yon see him perfoime to- ' wards me, to my mspeakeable griefe; not onlie because his kindnesse is a glasse ' euen to my blind eyes of my naughtinesse, but that aboue all griefes, it grieues me 'he should desperatelie aduenture the losse of his well-deseming life for mine^ that ' yet owe more to Fortune for my deserts, as if he would cane mudde in a chest of 'Chrystall: for well I know, he that now raigneth, how much so euer (and with 'good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet he will not let slip any ad- ' nantage to make away him, whose iust title (ennobled by courage & goodnesse) « may one day shake the seat of a nener secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craned
* of him to leade me to the top of this rocke, indeed I must confesse, with meaning 'to free him from so serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding whk I pur- 'posed, onely therein since he was borne, shewed himselfe disobedient vnto me. ' And now Gentlemen, yon haue the true stone, which I pray you publish to the
* world, that my mischienous proceedings may be the glorie of his filiaU juetie, the 'onlie reward now left for so great a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that 'of yon, which my sonne denies me: for nener was there more pity in sauing any» 'then in ending me, both because therin my agonie shall end, & so yon $hal pceseme ' this excellent young man, who else wilfully fbUowes his owne mine.'
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 389
A IIIKODR FOR BlAGISntATBS (1586, p. 60b Cd. 1610) :
« Mt gnmdsire i^^uAft/hight, that found the bathes by skill* A fethered King that practisde high to soare : Whereby he felt the fall, God wot against his will. And nener went, road, raign'd, nor spake, nor flew no moro^ After whose death my father Lein therefore
Was chosen King by right apparent heire.
Which after bnOt the towne of Leicestere.
« He had three daughters faire, the first hight GcntreO^
Next after her his yonger Ragam was begot :
The third and last was I the yongest, nam'd Cerditt.
Vs all onr lather Litre did lone too well God wot.
Bat minding her that lou'd him best to note. Because he had no sonne t' enjoy his land. He thought to guerdon most where lanonr most be fimd*
'What though I yoogest were, yet men me jud^d more iHie Than either CamireHf or Ragan more of age: And fairer farre: wherefore my sisters did despise My grace and gifts, and sought my wrecke to wage; But yet though vice on rertue die with rage
It cannot keepe her ▼ndemeath to drowne:
For still the flittes aboue, and reipes renowne.
'My fiither thought to wed vs>nto Princely peeres. And Tnto them and theirs diuide and part the land. For both my sisters first he call'd (as first their yeaiet Required) thdr minds, and lone^ and fiuKmr f vnderrtaad. (Quoth he) all doubts of dntie to abend
I must assay your Iriendly iaithei to prooes
My dau^bten* tdl me how you do me lone.
' Wbidi when fSbtj answered him they loa'd thdr father movs Then thqr Uiemsd^es did loue^ or any worldly wi^s He praised them and iaid he would Uierefore The lotting Undnesse they deseru'd in fine reqoitOt So found my sisters fiuionr in his dght
By flatterie fiure they won their fathers health
Which after turned him and me to smaiL
'But not oontient with this, he asked me likewise If I did not him loue and honour well* No cause (quoth I) there is I should your grace desfiiaf For nature so doth bind and dutie me compell* To loue you, as I ought my father, wdL
Yet shortly I may chance, if Fortune will.
To find in heart to beare another more good wQL
390 APPENDIX
Thus much I said of naptiall loves that ment«
Not minding once of hatred vile or ixt :
And partly taxing them, for which intent
They set my fathers heart on wrathfull fire.
Shee neuer shall to any part aspire
Of this my Realme (quoth he) among'st yon twainat But shall without all dowrie ale renudne. • * • • •
But while that I these iqyes so well enioy'd in France*
My father Leire in Britaine waxt ynwealdie old.
v/hereon his daughters more themsdues aloft f adnance
Desir'd the Realme to rule it as they wold.
Their former loue and friendship waxed cold. Their husbands rebels void of reason quite Rose vp, rebeld, bereft his crowne and right :
* Betwixt their husbands twaine they cansde him to agree To parte the Realme, and prombt him a gard
Of sixtie Knights that on him should attendant bee* But in sixe moneths such was his hap too hard. That GcnereU of his retinue bard.
The half of them, she and her husband reft : And scarce allow'd the other halfe they left.
< As thus in his distresse he lay lamenting fotes, y^en as my sister so, sought all his vtter spoile : The meaner vpstart courtiers thought themselues his His daughter him disdain'd and forced not his foile. Then was he faine for succour his to toile
With halfe his traine to Cornwall there to lie In greatest need, his Ragam loue to trie.
* So when he came to Cornwall, she with ioy Receiued him, and Prince Maglaurus did the like There he abode a yeare, and liu'd without annoy : But then they tooke all his retinue from him quite Saue only ten, and shew'd him daily spite.
Which he bewail' d complaining durst not striue^ Though in disdaine they last allow'd but fine.
'What more despite could diuellish beasts denise,
Then ioy their fathers wofull daies to see ?
What vipers vile could so their King despise.
Or so vnkind, so curst, so cruell bee ?
Fro thence againe he went to Albany,
Where they bereau'd his seruants all saue one t Bad him content himselfe with that, or none.
•Eke at what time he ask*d of them to haue his gard. To gard his noble grace where so he went :
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 39 1
They caird him doting foole, all his requests debard, Demanding if with life he were not well content. Then he too late his rigour did repent
Gainst me, my sisters fawning loue that knew
Found flattery false, that seem*d so faire in vew«
* To make it short, to France he came at last to mee, And told me how my sisters ill their father vsde. Then humblie I besought my noble King so free, That he would aide my father thus by his abusde. V^o nought at all my humble best refusde,
But sent to euery coast of France for aide, V^ereby King Liire might home be ^ell conueide,
' The souldiers gathered from each quarter of the land Came at the length to know the noble Princes will : Who did commit them vnto captaines euery band. And I likewise of loue and reuerent meere good will Desir'd my Lord, he would not take it ill If I departed for a space withall. To take a part, or ease my fathers thrall,
* He granted my request : Thence we arriued here. And of our Britaines came to aide likewise his right
' Full many subjects, good and stout that were. By martiall feats, and force, by subjects sword and might. The British Kings were faine to yeeld our right.
Which wonne, my father well this Realme did guide Three yeares in peace, and after that he dide.
Spenser (The Faery Queene, 1590, Second Booke, Canto x, 27, p. 13a ed. Kit* chin, 1877) :
27. * Next him King Leyr in happy peace long raind. But had no issue male him to succeed. But three faire daughters, which were well uptraind In all that seemed fit for kingly seed; Mongst whom his realme he equally decreed To have divided. Tho when feeble age Nigh to his utmost date he saw proceed. He cald his daughters, and with speeches sage Inquyrd, which of them most did love her parentage.
88, ' The eldest Gonorill gan to protest,
That she much more than her owne life him lov'di And Regan greater love to him profest Then all the world, when ever it were proov'd; But Cordeill said she loved him, as behoov'd t Whose simple answere, wanting colours faire To paint it forth, him to displeasance moov'd. That in his crowne he counted her no haire, But 'twixt the other twaine his kingdom whole did shaire.
392 APPENDIX
ap. * So wedded th* one to Maglan King of Scots, And th' other to the King of Cambria, And 'twixt them shayrd his realme by equall lots; But without dowre, the wise Cordelia Was sent to Aganip of Celtia. Their aged syre, thus eased of his crowne^ A private life led in Albania With Gonorill, long had in great cenowne, That nought him griev'd to beene from rule deposed downBb
ja ' But true it is that, when the oyle is spent.
The light goes out, and weeke is throwne away; So when he l)ad resignd his regiment. His daughter gan despise his drouping day. And wearie waxe of his continuall stay ; Tho to l^s daughter Regan he repayrd. Who him at first well used every way; But when of his departure she despayrd. Her bountie she abated, and his cheare empayrd.
31. * The wretched man gan then avise too late. That love is not, where most it is profest; Too truely tryde in his extremest state; At last resolv'd likewise to prove the rest. He to Cordelia him selfe addrest. Who with entyre affection him receav'd, As for her syre and king her seemed best; And after all an army strong she leav'd. To war on those, which him had of his realme bereav'd.
33. * So to his crowne she him restored againe.
In which he dyde, made ripe for death by eld. And after wild it should to her remaine : Who peacefully the same long time did weld. And all men's harts in dew obedience held; Till that her sisters* children, woxen strong Through proud ambition, against her rebeld. And overcommen kept in prison long. Till wearie of that wretched life her selfe she hong.'
Mrs Lennox {Shakespeare Illustrated^ iii» 302, 1754) : In Shakespeare Cordelia IS hanged by a soldier : a very improper Catastrophe for a Person of such exemplaiy Vittne.
Malonb quotes, from Camden's Remaines^ 1674, Cordelia's answer to her father, and thinks it ' more probable that Shakespeare had it in his thoughts than T^ Mirour *for Magistrates,9& Camden's book was published recently before he appears to have
< composed this play, and that portion of it which is entitled Wise Speeches^ where * [the answer] is found, furnished him with a hint in Coriolanus^ The answer is as follows: * that albeit she did love, honour, and reverence him, and so would whilst <sbe lived, as mucb as nature and daughterlie dutie at the uttermost could expect,
< yet she did think that one day it would come to passe that she should affect another
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 393
■ more fervently, meaning her husband, when she were married.' Malone also notes that it is in Spenser that Shakespeare found the name softened into Cordelia.
We now come to the ante-Shakespearian drama of KingLeir^ the exact title whereof b given on p. 353. While giving an abstract of each Scene, I have endeavored to retain all words or phrases that the ingenuity of an ardent partisan could convert or pervert into a suggestion of Shakespeare*s Lear. Skottowe is the most zealous ad- vocate that I know, of the claims otKing Leir; I am afraid h'ls zeal outruns his wisdom. I believe I have incorporated in the abstract every passage to which he appeals for con- firmation of his theory. I have followed the text given in Six OldPlays, &c., 1779. In the opening scene Leir announces to his assembled court that, the obsequies of his * deceast and dearest queen ' having t}een duly performed, his care now is to see his daughters befittingly married. As for himself, < One foot already hangeth in the 'grave,*—
And I would (a!n« reslgne these earthly caret.
And thinke upon the vd&re of my soule ;
Which by no better means may be effected.
Then by resigning up the crown from me
In equal dowry to my daughters three.'
A courtier, Skalliger by name, then proposes that, since hb majesty knows well
* What several suters [the] princely daughters have,* he should * make them eche a 'jointer more or lesse. As b their worth, to them that love professe.' To which Leir replies, * No more, nor lesse, but even all alike, My zeale b fixt, all fashioned in one
* mould.' Cornwall and Cambria, * two neere neighbouring kings,' ' motion love to
* Gonorill and Ragan,' but Cordelia, it appears, has more than one lover; Leir says :
' My youngest daughter, faire Cordelia, vowes No liking to a monarch, unlesse love allowes. She is sollidted by divers peeres ; But none of them her partial fancy hearei. Yet, if my policy may her beguile. He match her to some king within this ile. And so establish such a perfit peace. As fiwtuncs force shall ne'er prevalle to c
PerillttSy another noble courtier, begs hb majesty not to * force love, whert fancy 'cannot dwell/ and Leir replies :
' I am resolv'd, and even now my mind Doth meditate a sudden strategem. To try which of my daughters loves me best : Which till I know, I cannot be in rest. This graunted, when they Jointly shall oontendf Eche to exceed the other in their lore : Then at the vantage will I take Cordelia, Even as she doth protest she loves me best, He say, then, daughter, graunt me one request. To shew thou lovest me as thy sisters doe. Accept a husband, whom my self will woo. This said, she cannot well deny my sute. Although (poore soule) her sences will be mute : Then will I triumph In my policy. And match her with a king of Briiiatij,'
In the next scene Gonorill and Ragan reveal to each other their common hatred
of Cordelia, because she b « so nice and so demure ; So sober, courteous, modest, and
precise,* and also because she adopts all their own new-made fashions, and, what b
394 APPENDIX
worse, improves on them. Skalliger enters, and discloses to them their father*s device for providing them with husbands by putting their aflfection for him to the test. Whereupon Ragan exclaims;
' O that I had some pleasing mermaids voice. For to Inchaunt his sencelesse sences with I '
Skalliger takes his leave of them,
' Not doubting hut your wisdomes vrill foresee What course will best unto your good agree.'
The sisters accordingly lay their plans to outbid Cordelia in protestations of obedience to their father, < who,' as Ragan says, * dotes, as if he were a child againe.' Gonorill smiles to think in what a woful plight Cordelia will be by their answers, and how her refusal to accept her father's choice will convert his love into hate, ' For he, you *know, b alwayes in extremes.'
In the next scene Leir, having summoned his daughters t^efore him, tells them that as * — pale grym death doth wayt upon his steps,' he wishes them to ' resolve a doubt
* which much molests his mind, which of the three to him would prove most kind ;
* which loves him most.' Gonorill replies that her love 'cannot be in windy words rehearst,' that she would willingly sacrifice her life at his command, or 'many the ' meanest vassaile in the spaceous world.' ' O, how I doe abhorre this flattery,' says Cordelia. Ragan then reiterates pretty much what Gonorill has said, and, as she finishes, Cordelia again says : * Did never flatterer tell so false a tale.' Leir then turns to his youngest daughter, and begs her to make < his joyes at full ' t
^Cordelta, I cannot paint my duty Ibrth in vrords, I hope my deeds shall make report for me : But looke what love the child doth owe the father. The same to you I beare, my gracious lord.
Canorill, Here is an answere answerlesse indeed : Were you my daughter, I should scarcely brooke it.
Ragan, Dost thou not blush, proud peacock as thou art. To make our father such a slight reply?
Leir, Why how now, minion, are you growne so proud T ' &e.
Cordelia tries to explain, urging that her < toung was never usde to flattery,' but Leir will not listen to her :
' LHr, Peace, bastard impe, no bsue of Ring Leir, I will not heare thee speake one tittle more. Call me not father, if thou love thy life. Nor these thy sisters once presume to name : Looke for no heipe henceforth from me or mine ; Shift as thou wilt, and trust unto thyselfe.'
He then declares that he will divide his kingdom equally between her two sisters, and yield to them his throne. After Leir, Gonorill, and Ragan have left the stage, PeriUus says:
* Oh, how I grieve, to see my lord thus fond.
To dote so much upon vune flattering words.
Ah, if he but with good advice had weighed.
The hidden tenure of her humble speech.
Reason to rage should not have giveii place.
Nor poore Cordelia suffer such disgrace.*
The scene then shifts to Gallia, where the king, whose name is not given, declares to Ids nobles his intention of visiting < Brittany ' in disguise, in order to select in the
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 395
surest way the best of Leir's three fair daughters. One of his nobles named BCum* ford, the funny man of the play, begs to accompany him, and the king consents.
The scene again shifb, and we find the kings of Cornwall and of Cambria hasten* ing to Leir's court to receive their brides and each the * moity of halfe of Leir's regiment.'
In the next scene GonoriU and Ragan discuss Cordelia's plight:
' GonorilL I have incenst my father to against ber« As he will never be redaimd againe. Ragan, I war not much behind to do the like.'
Leir, Perillus, and others enter;
' LHr, Cease, good my lords, and sue not to rererso Our censure, which is now irrevocable. We have dispatched letters of contract Unto the kings of Cambria and of Cormuatt: Ouf hand and seale will justify no lesse : Then do not so dishonour me, my lords. As to make shipwrack of our kingly word. I am as kind as is the pellican. That klls it selfe, to save her young ones lives : And yet is Jelous as the princely eagle. That kils her young ones, if they do but daseU Upon the radiant splendor of the sunne.*
The kings of Qunbria and of Cornwall enter, and draw lots for the halves of the kingdom. VThen this is accomplished, Perillus speaks :
' I have bin silent all this while, my lord. To see if any worthier then my selfe. Would once have spoke in poore OtrdtUatM cause : But k>ve or feare ties silence to their toungs. Oh, heare me speak for her, my gracious lord. Whose deeds have not deserv'd this luthlesse doome. As thus to disinherit her of all.
Liir, Urge this no more, and if thou love thy life : I say, she is no dau^^ter, that doth scome To tdl her fiither how she loveth him. yfhovtfx speaketh hereof to mee againe, I will esteeme him for my mortal foe.'
The next scene discovers the 'Gallian' king and Mumford in * Brituny,' disguised as * pilgrims'; Cordelia enters in deep dejection at the unhappy lot which, on this very marriage-day of her sisters, turns her into the world to seek her fortune. But she
resolves:
'I wiU betake me to my threed and needle. And eame my living with my fingers ends.'
Of course the Gallian king, at the first sight of her, falls hopelessly in love, and begs to know the cause of her grief. * Ah pilgrims,' replies Cordelia, * what availes to shew the cause. When there's no meanes to find a remedy ? ' « To utter griefe, doth ease a heart o'ercharg'd,' answers the king, and then Cordelia tells him how her father had cast her forth because she would not flatter him; and that he was even now celebrating her sisters' marriages.
' KUig, Sweet lady, say there should come a king As good as either of your sisters husbands. To crave your love, would you accept of him?
396 APPENDIX
' C^riiUa, Oh, doe not mocke with cho§e ta miseiy^ Nor do not thinke, though fi»itune have the powen To tpoQ mine honour, nnd debase my sute. That she hath any interest in my mind : For if the greatest monarch on the earth Should sue to me in this extremity. Except my heart could lore, and heart eould like. Better then any that I ever saw, His great estate should no more move my mind. Then monntalnes move by blast of every wind.'
The dxsgnised palmer then confesses that his master, the Gallian king, does to reality sue for her hand« But Cordelia declines the ofieri and, with that straightfor- wardness which is her marked characteristic, declares that she much prefers the palmer to his royal master, and concludes with saying s
' Then be advised, palmer, what to do : Cease for thy king, seeke for thy selle to woo.
Ki$ig^ Your birth 's too high for any but a king*
Cordtlla, My mind is low ynough to love a palmer^ Rather then any king upon the earth.
King* O, but you never can Indure thdr life^ Vhich is so straight and fuU of penury.
Cordelia. O yes, I can, and happy if I mlg^s He hold thy palmers stafTe within my hand» And thinke it is the scepter of a queene. Sometime He set thy bonfiet on my head. And thinke I weare a rich imperial crowne. Sometime He help thee In thy holy prayers. And thinke I am with thee in paradise. Thus He mock fortune, as she mocketh me. And never will my lovely choice repeat ; For, having thee, I shall have all content'
Although this speech corresponds to nothing in Shakespeare's Lear^ yet I can* not help inserting it, for a certain childlike sweetness in it; here Cordelia is more lovely and loveable than Cordelia in the first Act of Lear, -.The Gallian king reveals himself, and Cordelia accompanies him to church, ' because the world shall say. King Leir's three daughters were wedded in one day.'
In the next scene ' Enter Perillus solus.'
' The king hath dispossest himself of all. Those to advannce, which scarce will give him thanks X His youngest daughter he hath tumd away. And no man knowes what is become of her. He sojourns now in C^mwt// with the eldest. Who flattred him until she did obtalne That at his hands, which now she doth posscsse 8 And now she sees hee hath no more to give, It grieves her heart to see her father live. Oh, whom should man trust in this wicked age. When children thus against their parents ragef But he the myrrour of mild patience. Puts up all wrongs and never gives reply : Yet shames she not in most opprobrious sort. To call him fool and doterd to his face. And sets her parasites of purpose oft, la scoffing wise to offer him disgrace. Ohyronagel O times I O monstrous, vild^ When pareals are contemned of the child t
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 397
* His pension she bath halfe restnla'd from hjsiy And will, ere long, the other halfe, I feare; For she thinks nothing is bestowde in vaine. But that which doth her father's life maintaine.'
An interview between Gonorill and Skalliger follows, which gives us an insight of the 'quips and peremptory taunts' to which Gonorill is subjected by her father) * he checks and snaps [her] up at every word.' Again her mind runs on her dress :
' I cannot make me a new fiuhioned gowne And set it forth with more then common cost; But his old doting doltish withered wit. Is sure to give a sencdesse check for it/
Skalliger proposes as a remedy for her grievances that she shall ' abbridge ' half of lus allowance. . Gonorill. accepts his counsel, and says ;
' I have restrained halfe his portion already And I will presently restraine the other/
In the next scene Cornwall appears anxious to find out from Leir the cause of his sadness, but in vain. Gonorill enters < in wished time,' as her husband says, * to .put 'your father from these pensive dumps/ But instead, Gonorill falls into a high rage on the suspicion that her father had been complaining of her, and carrying tales to her husband:
'G^rmns//. Sweet, he not angry In a partial cause. He ne'er comi^ain'd of thee in all his lifo. Father, you must not weigh a woman's words.
Ltir, Alas, not I : poore soule, she breeds yoag bones. And that is it makes her so tutchy sure.
Cotwnll. What, breeds young bones already t You will make An honest woman of me then, bdike. P vnd dde wretch I who ever heard the like. That seeketh thus his owne child to defame T '
And she angrily departs, telling her father :
* Yoit any one that loves your company. You may go pack, and seeke some other place. To sow the seed of discord and disgrace/
lielr * weepes/ and Perillus tries to comfort him :
' Lnr, What man art thou that takest any pity Upon the worthlesse sute of old Leir T
Ferilbu, One, who doth beare as great a share of grlefo. As if it were my dearest father's case.
Z«]6r. Ah, good my friend, how ill art thou advlsde. For to consort with miserable men. • • • Did I ere' give thee living, to increase The due revenues which thy father left f • • • Oh, did I ever dispossesse my sdfe, And give thee halfe my kingdome jn good will t • • « If they, which first by nature's sacred law Do owe to me the tribute of their lives ; If they to whom I alwayes have bin kinde. And bountifol beyond comparison ; If they, for whom I have undone my selfe. And Inrought my age unto this extreme want. Do now rqect, oontemne, despise^ abhor me. What reason moveth thee to aorrow for me ? '
398
APPENDIX
Perillas cries, and appeals to his tears as proof of his affectiony and reminds Leir that he has ' two daughters left'
' ZMr, Oh, how thy words adde sorrow to my soale, To thinke of my tmkindnesse to Cordelia I "Whom causelesse I did dispossesse of all. Upon th' unkind suggestions of her sisters.*
However, lie consents to leave Gonorill and to try Ragan. His departure, which is taken secretly, distresses Cornwall, who, accordingly, taxes his wife with having driven her father away by some great unkindness. Gonorill's suggestion that her father has but 'stolne upon her sister, at unawares, to see her how she fares,' Corn- wall mistrusts, and resolves to send ' a poste immediately to know. Whether he be * arrived there or no.' Gonorill intercepts his messenger^ and, instead of his letters to Leir, substitutes letters to her sister to the effect that Leir 'hath detracted' Ragan and ' given out slaundrous speaches against her.'
In the next scene Cordelia, in a soliloquy, taxes herself with neglect in rendering thanks to God for all His benefits to her, which have far exceeded the reach of her deserts:
* I cannot wish the thing that I do want: I cannot want the thing but I may have. Save only this which I shall ne're obtaine. My fether's love, oh this I ne're shall gaine. I would abstaine from any nutryment. And pine my body to the very bones : Bare foote I would on pilgrimage set forth Unto the furthest quarters of the earth. And all my life-time would I sackcloth weare. And mourning-wise powre dust upon my head : So he but to foigive me once would please. That his gray haires might go to heaven in peace* And yet I know not how I him offended. Or wherein justly I have deserved bfame. Oh, sisters 1 you are much to blame in this. It was not he, but you that did me wrong : Yet God forgive both hilb, and you, and me; Even as I doe in perfit charity. I will to church, and pray unto my Saviour. That ere I die, I may obtaine his iavotir.'
(Justice has never been done, I think, to the unaffiected loveliness, at times, of Cor- delia's character in this old play.) The scene shifts to the neighborhood of Ragan's castle, and Leir and Perillus enter almost worn out with fatigue. Leir tells his faithful counsellor to cease to call him lord, * And think me but the shaddow of myselfe.' The prince of Cambria and Ragan come upon them unawares, and his daughter, recog* nising her father, dissembling her feelings of hatred at the sight of him, bids him welcome. Ragan remains on the stage after the rest have entered the castle, and receives the messenger from her sister, whose lying letters highly incense her. She determines to get rid of her father by assassination, and makes an appointment with the messenger to meet her and arrange the method of the deed which he undertakes to do.
In the mean time Cordelia's distress is so great that her husband promises to send a message to King Leir, begging him to forgive his daughter and to come and visit her.
, THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 399
At the appointed hour Ragan meets the messenger that had come to her from Gonorill, and hires him to kill Leir. and Perillus in a thicket some two miles from the court, whither she will send them on some prete;(t or other on the Ihorrow.
The scene then changes to Comwalli where Gonorill and her husband receive the ambassador from the Gallian king, who comes with a message to Leir; but as Leir is absent, Gonorill and Cornwall penuade the ambassador to tarry at their court for a few days until Leir's return. We now go back to Leir aiid Perillus, whom we find at the thicket some two miles I from the court. The assassin appears before them and announces his design of
I killing them. Leir thinks that he must have been sent by Cordelia, and is willing to
I submit to what he cannot but consider the justice of Heaven. He is Undeceived by
Gonorill's letter which the assassin shows him. While the two old men are praying for their lives, some highly opportune claps of thunder so terrify the assassin that he' drops his daggers and departs, after calling them the 'parlosest old men that ere he heard.' Perillus then persuades Leir to try his fortune with Cordelia* and 'while they are crossing over to Brittany we find that the Gallian king, Cordelia, and Mum- ford devise a pleasant little excursion to the seaside for recreation, and that the Gallian ambassador, giving up all hope of finding Leir at Gonorill's court, comes to Ragan's; there he finds Ragan trying to persuade her husband that her father's absence is due to Cordelia's machinations, and that Cordelia has undoubtedly killed Leir. This accusation she repeats to the ambassador, and falls into a great rage with him for attempting to defend his mistress, and strikes him.
When Leir and Perillus land on the coast of Brittany, they are obliged to pay for their passage by exchanging their cloaks and gown for the * sheep's russet sea-gowne' and * sea-caps ' of the sailors. In these rude garments they begin their inland journey, but have not gone far when Leir's strength fails utterly through lack of food, and it is reserved to Perillus to display extreme lo/alty by < stripping up his arme ' and begging his royal master to * feed on this flesh, whose veines are not so dry,' adding, * He smile for joy, to see you suck my bloud,' but Leir declines to be tempted, and while they are talking the Gallian king and Cordelia approach; Cordelia recognizes her father's voice, but, by the advice of her husband, refrains from revealing herself. .She gives them food and drink, and, when their strength has returned, begs to know their stoiyt
' Lthr, If from die fine I should relate the cause, Twould make a heart of adamant to weepe: And thou, poore soule, kind-hearted as thou art.
I Dost weepe already, ere. I do begin.
CareUlla, For Gods lore tell it ; and vnen you have done, .He tell the reason why I weepe so soone.'
Leir then tells his story, and ends with describing how Ragan has induced him to go to a certain spot some distance from the court,
« Pointing that there she would come taike with me : There she had set a shag haird murdring wretch. To massacre my honest friend and me. Then judge your selfe, although my tale be briefe. If ever man had greater cause of griefe.
King. Nor never like impiety was done. Since the creation of the world begim.
XWf. And now I am constraind to seeke relieib Of her, to whom I have bin so unkind ; Whose censure, if it do award me death.
4CK> APPENDIX
'I mint confesfe she pays me but my due : But if she shew a loving daughters part It comes of God and her, not my desert.
CoTiUlla^ No doubt she will, I dare be swome she wflL
JUir. How know you that, not knowing what she is t
CordilU, Myselfe a fiitther have a great way hence, Usde me as ni as ever you did her; Yet, that his reverend age I once might see, Ide creepe along, to meet him on my knee.
ZWr. O, no mens children are unkind but mine.
Cordelia, Condemne not all, because of ocheis crime : But looke, dear father, looke, behold and see Thy loving daughter speaketh unto thee. [Skg k$uetnm
Leir. O, stand thou up, it is my part to knede^ Aiid aske foigivenesse for my former faults. [He knetittm
Cordelia, O, if you wish I should enjoy my breath, Deare lather rise, or I receive my death. [He riseiJL
Leir, Then I will rise, to satisfy your mind. But kneele againe, til pardon be resignd. \H% kneela^
Cordelia, I pardon you : the word beseemes not me : But I do say so, for to ease your knee ; You gave me life, you were the cause that I Am what I. am, who ebe had never bin.
Loir. But you gave life to me and to my friend. Whose dayes had else had an untimely end.
Cordelia, You brought me up, when as I was but youag; And far unable for toheipe my sdfe.
Leir, I cast thee forth, when as thou wast but young. And far unable for to Helpe thyselfe.
Cordelia, God, worid, and nature, say I do yoa wrOQg That can indure to see you kneele so long.
King, Let me breake off this loving oontroveny, Which doth rejoice my very soule to see.
Good &ther, rise, she is your loving daughter, [Ho riietA,
And honours you with as respective dutyj As if you were the monarch of the world.
Cordelia, But I will never rise from off my knee, \Ske kmteUt^ Until I have your blessing, and your pardon Of all my faults committed any way. From my first birth until this present day.
Ijeir, The blessing, which the God of Abraham gave Unto the tribe of Jnda^ light on thee. And multiply thy dayes, that thou mayst see Thy childrens children prosper after thee. Thy faults, which are just none that I do know, God pardon on high, and I forgive below. \Sk$ rlttiJkm
Cordelia. Now is my heart at quiet, and doth leape Within my brest, for joy at this good hap : Aad now (deare father) welcome to our court. And welcome (kind Perilliu) unto me, Mirrour of vertue and true honesty/
The King and Mumford now take their turn at kneeling and rising; the former to register his oath that he will avenge Leir's wrongs, the latter that he will bring back a wife out of Brittaine.
The Gallian king at once puts his oath into practice, and lands in Brittaine with an army and takes possession of a town on the sea-coast. Before the fighting begios* Cordelia says :
' We that are feeble and want use of annet. Will pray to God, to sheeld you from all hannes.
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 4OI
* Ltir, The whfle your hands do manage ceaselesse toile, Onr hearts shall pray, the foes may have the foile.*
Comwally Cambria, GonoriU, and Ragan appear with an army, but before the battle begins there is a family meeting, at which Cordelia terms Gonorill ' shamelesse/ snd Gonorill retorts by calling Cordelia a * puritan ' and a * dissembling hypocrite/ Perillos calls Gonorill a < monster,' and Ragan says she never heard a fouler>spoken man than Perillus. Leir intermpts these amenities, and adds to them, by addressing
Ragan:
' Out on thee, riper, scmn, filthy parricide. More odious to my sight then is a toade : Knowest thou these letteis T \Skt tnatekit ihtm Mtd Uaru tkem^
After some farther conversation in the same style, they proceed to business. Com- wall and Cambria with their wives and soldiers are put to flight, and Leir is rein* stated in his kingdom. He gives thanks, first to the heavens and then to the Gallian king, acknowledges that Cordelia's ' modest answere' of aforetime waspf the true stamp, promises to do the best he can to requite Perillus, and then :
' Thanks (worthy Mmmford) to thee last of all. Not greeted last, 'cause thy desert was small : No, thou hast lion-like laid da to-day. Chasing the Cgrmoail king and CamMa: Who with my daughter,' daughteis did I say f To save their lives, the fugitives did play. Come, Sonne and daughter, who bid me advanaoOy Repose with nie awhile, and then for Frmmet,
[Sound drtuHtt tmd irum^iU, Bxtmd*
In his InlroducHon^ Mr Grant Whits, speaking of this .ATZh^ L£ir,S9js that 'wf ^ may be sure that Shakespeare was acquainted with it.* . . • * [It] is a tolerable [play]
* for the time in which it was produeed— the early Elizabethan period ; but it hiu no
* resemblance of construction or language to Shakespeare's tragedy, except that which
< results from the use of the same story as the foundation of both. But in the great
* dramatist's work there is yet a sligbt vestige of his insignificant and utterly unknown
< predecessor's labours upon the same subject It might have been fortuitous, as it *was most natural, that in both Cordelia should kneel to her father when she first 'sees him upon her return from France; but that in both the father should manifest 'an inclination to kneel to the daughter must be due, it would seem, to a reminis*
* cence by the later dramatist of the work of his predecessor. So, too, when Shake* 'speare's Lear exclaims, " 'twas this flesh begot Those pelican daughters/' we may
* be quite sure that we hear an echo of these lines by the forgotten dramatist : ** I am
* as kind as is the pelican That kills itself to save Istr young ones' lives.*' And 'having found these traces of the old play in Shakespeare's memory, faint though
* they be, we may also presume that in Perilius, blunt and faithful counsellor and
* friend of the monarch in the elder play, we see a prototype of the noble character
* of Kent in the later. But in their scope, spirit, and purpose, aside from all ques- 'tion of comparative merit, the two works are entirely dissimilar; and after the ' closest examination of the earlier, I can find only these trifling and almost insig-
* nificant points of resemblance between them, except in incidents and characters ' which both playwrights owed to the old legend.'
Mr A. W. Wa&d, in his admirable History of English Dramatic Literature^ i, 126 (a work almost indispensable to the Shakespeare student), speaking of this Etng Leir^ ■ays t ' Yet, with all its defects, the play seems only to await the tonch of a powerful 34* 3A
402 APPENDIX
* hand to be converted into a tragedy of supreme effectiveness ; and while Shake- ' spere's genius nowhere exerted itself with more transcendent force and marveUous ' versatility, it nowhere found more promising materials ready to its command.'
In Shakespiare IlluitraUd (iii, 301) Mrs Lennox says : * The Chronicle of Holin* ' shed and Sidney's Arcadia are not the only resources Shakes^pear had for his tragedy
* of Ltar^ if we may believe the editor of a collection of old ballads, published in
* the year 1 726. In his Introduction to an old ballad, called A Lamentable S&ng <^the
* Death of King Lear and his three Daughters^ he has these words : '* I cannot be cer-
* tain directly as to the time when this Ballad was written ; but that it was some years
* before the play of Shakespeare appears from several circumstances, wliich to men- ' tion W0UI4 swell my Introduction too far beyond its usual length." It is to be wished ' that this writer, since he resolved not to exceed a certain length in his Introduction^
* had omitted some part of it, in order to introduce those circumstances which were ' of infinitely more consequence than anything else he has said on the subject of that
* old ballad. If it was really written before Shakespear's play, that great poet did
* not disdain to consult it, but has copied it more closely than either the Chronicle or
* Sidney. From thence (for 'tis mentioned nowhere else) he took the hint of Lear's
* madness, and the extravagant and wanton cruelty his daughters exercised on him ;
* the death of King Lear is also exactly copied. . . . [The old ballad] bears so exact
* an analogy to the argument of Shakespear's ITing Lear, that his having copied it
* cannot be doubted, if indeed it be true that it was written before that tragedy.'
The friend of our countrywoman (Mrs Lennox was bom in New York), Dr John- son, says: 'The stoxy of this play is derived • . . perhaps immediately from an old ' historical ballad. My reason for believing that the play was posterior to the ballad, ' rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the ballad has nothing of Shakespeare's
* nocturnal tempest, which is too striking to have been omitted, and that it follows the
* chronicle; it has the rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifications; it first ' hinted Lear's madness, but did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the ballad ' added something to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more if it ' had occurred to his mind, and more must have occurred if he had seen Shakespeare.'
Tbb ballad Bishop Percy reprinted in his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry^ i, 21 1, ed. 1765, and says of it : * The misfortune is that there is nothing to assist us in
< ascertaining its date, but what little evidence arises from within, this the reader
* must weigh and judge for himself. After all, 'tis possible that Shakespeare and
* the author of this ballad might both of them be indebted to [the older play of King 'Leir"]. This ballad is given from an ancient copy in the Golden Garland^ bl. let.
< intitled < A Lamentable Song of the Death of King Leir, and his three Daughters.
* To the tune of •* When flying fame." '
RiTSON was the earliest, I think, to deny Shakespeare's obligations to the tild ballad. He says of it, that it < by no means deserves a place in any edition of
* Shakespeare, but is evidently a most servile pursuit,— not, indeed, of our author's
* play, which the writer does not appear to have read, but— of Holinshed's Chronicle^ « where, as in Geoffrey of Monmouth, the King of France is called Aganippus, I « suppose, however, that the performance and celebrity of the play might have set the 'ballad-maker at work, and furnished him with the circumstance of Lear's madness,
< of which there is no hint either in the historian or the old play. The omission of ' any other striking incident may be fairly imputed to his want of either genius or in- ' formation. All be had to do was to spin t)ut a sort of narrative in a sort of vers^
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 403
* to be sung about the streets, and nukke advantage of the publick cariosity. I much ' doubt whether any common ballad can be produced anterior to a play upon th6 ' same subject, unless in the case of some very recent event.'
I think we may safely trust to Ritson's judgement when so good a critic as Hal* XJWELL concurs in it Halliwell says, that the old ballad is chiefly < founded oa
* the story as related by HoUnshed, but written also with a recollection of Shake- ' speare's tragedy. This ballad was probably issued early in the seventeenth century,
* although no copy of so ancient a date is now known to exist. It cannot, of course, *be reckoned amongst the materials used by Shakespeare unless it be supposed, as
* it is by some critics, to be anterior to the year 1608. It is iar more likely to hav« *been written in consequence of the popularity of the tragedy.*
The following is the ballad, reprinted from Percy's Relifua:
KING LEIR AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS.
• Kino Lbir once ruled in this land.
With princely power and peace, And had all things with hearts content*
That might his joys increase s Amongst those things that nature gave.
Three daughters fair had he. So princely seeming beautiful,
As fairer could not be.
< So on a time it pleas'd the king
A question thus to move, VHiich of his daughters to his grace
Could shew the dearest' love : For to my age you bring content.
Quoth he, then let me hear Which of you three in plighted frothy
The kindest will appear.
< To whom the eldest thus began.
Dear father, mind, quoth she. Before your face, to do you good.
My blood shaU render'd be : And for your sake my bleeding heart
Shall here be cut in twain. Ere that I see your reverend age
The smallest grief sustain.
• And so will I, the second saidt
Dear father, for your sake, The worst of all extremities
I '11 gentiy undertake ; And serve your highness night and day
V^th diligence and love ; That sweet content and quietness;
Discomforts may remove.
404 APPENDIX
• In doing to, jon glad mf loal.
The aged king reply'd; But what sayst thou, my joongest g^
HowisthyloYeaUy'd? My lore (qnoth jomig Coiddia then)
Which to jonr graiee I owe« Shall be the duty of a child.
And that ball I *U show.
« And wHt thoa shew no more, qnoth hi^
Than doth thy duty bind ? I well perceive thy love is small,
When as no more I finds HenoBforth I bai^sh thee my court,
Thou ait no child of mine; Kor any part of this my realm ;
By favour shall be thine.
'Thy elder sisters loves are more
Than well I can demand. To whom I equally bestow
My Idngdome and my land : My pompal state and aU my goods»
That lovingly I may With those thy sisters be maintain'd
Until my dying day.
* Thus flattering speeches woo renown.
By these two sisters here : The third had causeless banishment.
Yet was her love more dear : For poor Cordelia patiently
Went wandring up and down, Unhelp'd, unpity'd, gende maid.
Through many an English town:
^ Until at Jast in famous France
She gentler fortunes found ; Tliough poor and bare, yet she was deem'd
The fairest on the ground : Where when the king her virtues heard^
And this fair lady seen. With full consent of all his court
He made his wife and queen.
< Her father, « old ' king Leir, this while With his two daughters staid. Forgetful of their promis'd loves. Full soon the same decay'd.
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 40$
And living in queen Ragan's conrty
The eldest of the twain. She took from him his chiefest means.
And most of all his train.
* For whereas twenty men were wont
To wait with bended knee t She gave allowance bnt to ten.
And after scarce to three: Kay, one she thought too much for hinis
So took she all away, In hope that in her court, good king^
He would no longer stay.
* Am I rewarded thus, quoth he^
In giving all I have Unto my children, and to beg '
For what I lately gave? I'll go unto my Gonorell;
My second child, I know. Will be more kind and pitiful.
And will relieve my woe.
* Full fast he hies then to her court ;
Where when she hears his moan, Retum'd him answer. That she grieved.
That all his means were gone : But no way could relieve his wants ;
Yet if that he would stay Within her kitchen, he should have
What scullions gave away.
•When he had heard with bitter teax%
He made his answer then; In what I did let me be made
Example to all men, I will return again, quoth he.
Unto my Ragan's court; She will not use me thus, I hope^
But in a kinder sort
< Where when he came, she gave commaftd
To drive him thence away \ When he was well within her court
(She said) he would not stay. Then back again to Gonorell,
The woeful king did hie. That in her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by.
406 APPENDIX
*Biit there of that he was deny'd.
Which she had promis'd late : For once refusing, he should not
Come after to her gate. Thus twixt his danghters, for relief
He wandred np and down ; Being ^ad to feed on beggars food.
That lately wore a crown.
'And calling to remembrance then
His youngest daughters words. That said the duty of a child
Was all that love affords : Bat doubting to repair to her.
Whom he had banish'd so. Grew (rantick mad; for in his mind
He bore the wounds of woe z
•Which made him rend his milk-white lock%
And tresses from his head. And all with blood bestain his cheeks,
¥nth age and honour spread : To hills and woods, and watsy founts.
He made his hourly moan, TiU hills and woods, and senseless things.
Did seem to sigh and groan.
* Even thus poss&t with discontents,
He passed o're to France, In hopes from fair Cordelia there.
To find some gentler chance : Most virtuous dame 1 which when she heard
Of this her father's grief. As duty bound, she quickly sent
Him comfort and relief:
* And by a train of noble peers.
In brave and gallant sort. She gave in charge he should be brought
To Aganippus' court; Whose royal king, with noble mind
So freely gave consent. To muster up his knights at arms.
To fame and courage bent
< And so to England came with speed. To repossesse king Leir, And drive his daughters from their thrones By his Cordelia dear:
THE SOURCE OF THE PLOT 4^7
Where she, tnte-hearted noble qaeen,
Was in the battel slain : Yet he good king, in his old days,
Possest his crown again.
* But when he heard Cordelia's death.
Who died indeed for love Of her dear father, in whose cadse
She did this battel move; He swooning fell upon her breast.
From whence he never parted; But on her bosom left his life.
That was so truly hearted.
'* The lords and nobles when they saw
The end of these events. The other sisters unto death
They doomed by consents: And being dead, their crowns they left
Unto the next of kin: Thus have yon seen the fall of pride.
And disobedient sin.'
It would bCy I think, merely a waste of space to reprint any more versions of the tame old story, such as are to be found in Warner's Albion* s England^ Layamon's Brui^ the Geita Homanorum, &c. &c. Probably more versions have been already given, in the foregoing pages, than Shakespeare ever read or would have cared to read.
Klbin {Gesckichii da liaiiinischtH Dramas, \, 891) queries whether it be not possible that a hint of the idea of presenting in the same play, and in the same scene, assumed madness, real madness, and professional folly, may not have been derived from Le Siravaganu d^Amon by Cristoforo Castelletti, published in Rome, 1585, wherein similar types are to be found. < Old Metello, insane out of grief for
* his children, Alessandro an assumed Fool, and Bell' Humore a professional one, 'represent in Castelletti's comedy a trio jangled into discord, which finds its reso-
* Intion in that infinitely pathetic terzetto of insanity in Ltar^ and reveals its artistic
* and tragic capabilities when the paroxysms of a tragic insanity, simulated at the 'same time by a fictitious insanity, are soothed into tragic sorrow by a Fool. The ' assumption of such a hint is all the more allowable since, as far as we remember, no ' drama is to be found before Lear wherein these three varieties of mental alienation ' are employed as a- tnoHf in one and the same scene; nay, as far as we know, no
* drama exists before Lear and Hamlet wherein feigned insanity is depicted at all,
* except in this very Stravaganu d^Amore by Castelletti. Mock-insanity belongs to < Comedy; to elevate it to Tragedy, to make it a potent foil to real insanity, as in ' Edgar and Lear, is the triumph of tragic art.' ^
DURATION OF THE ACTION
EccLES was the first to reckon the time consumed during the action of this tragedy* His computation is briefly as follows :
Of course the first scene, containing the division of the kingdom, occupies one day.
After this several months elapse, during which Lear may have taken up his abode with Goneril and Regan several times alternately, so that when Lear says, * What
* fifty of my followers at a clap ! Within a fortnight ! ' he may refer only to that por* tion of the current month during which he has been staying with Goneril. It it ' utterly impossible ' that this * fortnight ' can refer to the very first fortnight after the division of the kingdom, because this does not allow suflicient time for the tidings of Lear*s cruel treatment to reach Cordelia, or for her to underuke that invasion of the kingdom which is already on foot. If the scene in which this expression occurs had come direetly after the first scene all would have been well, but, unfortunately^ Shakespeare was careless, had < indbtinct ideas concerning the progress of the action, and was liable to < unhappy oversights,' one of which he fell into here. According to Shakespeare, directly after the division of the kingdom, on the evening of the very day, or on any part of the following day, Edmund persuades Edgar to conceal himself from his father's wrath. Now, if this order of scenes be retained, Edgar must lie concealed for several months, according to Eccles. Wherefore Eccles re- arranges the scenes, whereby that in which Goneril resolves to check her father (I, iii) follows the first ; then comeS, after a « very short interval,* the scene (I, iv) where Lear uses the expression 'within a fortnight.' Of course followed immediately by that wherein Lear sends Kent to Gloucester, and, with this, the First Act doses. See Eccles's note on p. 42.
Thus far, then, the time is as follows : The first scene takes up One Day. Then several months elapse, and we come to the day on which Goneril tells Oswald to treat her father when he returns from hunting with what * weary negligence ' he will, and to prepare for dinner. A few minutes after Lear enters, and then ensues the stormy scene between him and Goneril. A few hours later Lear sends Kent to Gloucester with letters to Regan. This makes Two Days, and ends the First Act.
A night now passes, and, at * any part of the day succeeding that on which Lear
* hurries from Goneril,* the Second Act opens, and here Eccles places the scene (I, ii) which he omitted from the First Act, namely, that in which Edmund persuades Glou* cester of Edgar's treachery, and persuades E^gar to conceal himself. Edgar remains in concealment until nightfall, when Edmund summons him forth, and, after the mock duel, forces him to fly. This closes the Third Day. No sooner is Edgar fled than Regan and Cornwall arrive at the castle, and * very shortly ' after them come Kent and Oswald, and the scene ensues where Kent is put in the stocks. While Kent is thus left, Cornwall prepares the proclamation about Edgar, and, after ' such
* an interval as this circumstance may seem to render necessary,' but still in the same night, Edgar appears (we are now at II, iv, of Eccles) and decides to turn Bedlam beggar. When, in the next scene, Lear appears, and finds Kent stocked, it is still
* a continuation of the same night, which we may conclude to be now far advanced.'
Eccles continues this night through the Second Act, and the first six scenes of Act III. Scene vii of Act III (that in which Gloucester is blinded), Eccles says, « he sup- poses to be early in the morning after Lear has been exposed to the tempest.' This» 408
DURATION OF THE ACTION 409
thelitis the morning of the Fooxth Day. In the cooise of it Gloucester meets Edgar, and gets him to lead him to Dover, and says, ' I' th' last n^Afs storm I such a fellow saw.' This is IV, i. While Gloucester and Edgar are going to Dover, Goneril and Edmund are journeying to the Duke of Albany's palace, where they arrive (IV, ii) on
* the following day.' * We may imagine it the morning.' This, then, is the FifUi Day*
Here arises a difficulty. As the scenes now stand, we have in Scene v, of Act IV, a conference between Regan and Oswald at Gloucester's castle, and Oswald leaves for Dover. Of course some time must elapse before he reaches there, Eccles thinks a night at least, and yet in the very next scene he is at Dover, and is killed by Edgar. Now, there would be no objection to supposing that a night passes between these two scenes, were it not that a previous scene leaves Cordelia's century searching every acre of the high-grown field for Lear. The century was either successful or it was not If it was not successful, Lear must have passed, in the open air, all this night, which we have just seen had to elapse between Oswald's leaving Gloucester's castle and his arrival at Dover. But Eccles believes that the century was successful, and that Lear was found before night. The order of scenes is therefore wrong, and Eccles changes them so as to bring the scene at Gloucester's castle early in the Act (see p. 249), before Cordelia sends out the century, whereby time will be given for Oswald's journey from Gloucester to Dover, and for Kent to have his conference with the Gentleman who had delivered his letters to Cordelia, and for Cordelia to send out her century to find her father, which the century succeeds in doing just before Oswald reaches Dover, and is killed by Edgar. This certainly makes the story connected and consistent
To return to the reckoning of time. Eccles's Fourth Day finds Lear on his way to Dover, accompanied by certain hot questrists, and Gloucester blinded, guided to the same destination by Edgar. The next day, the Fifth, Goneril and Edmund reach the Duke of Albany's castle, and Edmund leaves inmiediately to hasten the ihusters and conduct the powers. On the evening of the next day (which makes the Sixth) Regan has the conference with Oswald, and tries to see the letter which Goneril had sent by him to Edmund. This is the displaced scene, the fifth of Act IV, which Eccles places as the third, and, to quote his words, « suppose it to pass on the even-
* ing of the tliird day since that, inclusively taken, on the morning of which Lear, 'attended by certain of his knights, began to be conveyed from the castle of Gloster
* on his route towards Dover.' Eccles makes it in the evening, so as to account for Edmund's having left Regan in the morning to dispatch Gloucester*s nighted life, and also to give time for Oswald's journey to this point with Goneril's letter to Ed- mund, and also because Regan begs Oswald to wait the safe conduct of her forces on the morrow.
The next day (the Seventh), or < the fourth morning from that (both, however, in* ' dusively) whereon Lear, with Kent and the rest of his attendants, began his progress
* from Gloster's castle, Goneril and Edmund from the same set out for the palace of
* Albany, and, later in the day, the sightless Gloster began to proceed to Dover,' we have Kent's conference with the Gentleman who had seen and describes Cordelia. Our IV, iii; Eccles's IV, iv.
The next scene, where Cordelia sends out the century, Eccles ' conceives to be f some part of the morning of the same day with the last scene.'
In the ' afternoon of the same day ' Gloucester is guided by Edgar to the imagi nary difif of Dover. ' This will allow time for Oswald to have performed his jour ney ' after leaving Regan on the preceding evening. This b IV. vi. 35
410 APPENDIX
The next scene (IV, Tii), where Lear b restored to his senses, Ecdes imtgtnet *80ine part of a new day, ynz : the filth since the night of the storm.* This makes the Eighth Day.
To the fiist scene of Act V he assigns a new day, viz: ' the sixth since the night of the storm,' and this day, which is the Ninth, is ' continued to the end of the play.'
The nomber of days taken up by this drama has been computed by Mr P. A. Danibl also, and printed in the TramaeHons of the Ntw Sh, Sac,, 1877-9, P- 215. It differs somewhat from Ecdes's, and extends the time over one more day. It is substantially as follows :
The first scene occupies one day.
The second scene, in which Edmund persuades Edgar to conceal himself, and which Ecdes transposed to the next Act, Daniel places * on the day following the opening scene,' and Gloucester's exclamation, * the king gone to-night,' is interpreted <in the sense cf iMi nigMi last pasted^ as it * is frequently used in these plays' in that sense; and, moreover, < Edmund, who here promises his father full satisfaction
* as to Edgar's guilt, *< without any further dday than this very fvening^^ could noT ' say this if the night of the day on which he is speaking were already come.' As Edgar goes into concealment on this day, Daniel allows him there to remain, in the same castle with his father, for about fourteen days.
After this Second Day, in order to account for Lear's exclamation : * V^thin a fortnight 1 ' Daniel supposes an interval in the action of something less than thai period.
With the third scene, ' at about mid-day,' the action recommences, and, ceasing < a little after noon,' carries us through the rest of the Act. This makes the Third Day.
Towards night of the following day, therefore the Fourth Day, the second Act begins. Edmund has the mock fight with Edgar, and Cornwall and Regan arrive at the castle * during the night; and this fact must fix the time of the second scene of ' this day,' in which the quarrel between Kent and Oswald takes place. * It will be
* remembered that it was about mid-day in Day 3 that Kent tripped up Oswald's heels,
* and shortly afterwards Lear sent him on this errand. When in this scene he again ' meets Oswald, he says, **lsii two days ago since I tripped up thy beds, and beat thee
* before the king?" We may suppose, then, that about a day and a half has been
* occupied in his journeying to Cornwall's palace, and from thence to Gloucester's ' castle, and that this is the second night or early morning since he set out with Lear's < letteis : midnight of Day 4, or I or 2 A.M. of Day 5.'
On the morning after his flight Edgar resolves on disguising himself as Mad Tom. This is in III, iii, and on the Fifth Day. And on this same morning II, iv, begins, and at III, vi, the day ends at night. Here we see Daniel gives one more day to the action than Eccles. Eccles makes all these scenes take place on the same night that Cornwall and Regan arrive at Gloucester's castle. Apparently, Daniel is led to the supposition that it is the following day because when Cornwall and Regan < make their appearance, Lear bids them " Good morrow." ' [This, I fear, is somewhat in favour of Eccles. The time of day that was at hand, not that which was present, was commonly (Dclius says « always ') used as a greeting. Thus, in Rom, 6* Jul, we find that after the very stroke of noon < good evening ' was the proper salutation. The objection to Ecdes's reckoning is that we have an excessively long night, to Daniel's that we have an excessively long day. I doubt if upon either reckoning, or upon any minute reckoning, Shakespeare ever bestowed a thought. If he had, ic
DURATION OF THE ACTION ^W
b somewluit derogatory to his genias to rappose that he would not ha^e made his meaning and intention clear. — Ed.]
On the morning of the Sixth Day (III, vii), Edmund accompanies Goneril from Gloucester's castle back to Albany, Gloucester's eyes are put out, and (in IV, i) he )& led by Edgar to Dover.
On account of the distance between Gloucester's castle and Albany's palace, a day is given to Edmund and Goneril to accomplish the journey, and this makes the Seventh Day, and IV, ii.
Here Daniel marks *An Interval!
On the Eighth Day (IV, iii) we are in the French Camp near Dover, and a Gen* tleman tells Kent of his interview with Cordelia. * Some short interval between
* Days 7 and 8 should probably be supposed; as the news now is that the forces of
* Albany and Cornwall are afoot (1. 50-1), which was not the case on the former day. ' Lear is in Dover,' but his sovereign shame keeps him from Cordelia.
We come now to the Ninth Day (IV, iv), and of it Daniel says : * I am not sure
* that I am right in making this scene the commencement of a separate day ; it may
* possibly be a continuation of Day No. 8, or it may be separated from that day by
* an interval of a day or two. Time is not marked except by the succession of events, 'but on the whole they induce me to suppose this the morrow of Day No. 8. Lear
* has been met in the fields, crowned with wild flowers, and Cordelia sends out in
* search of him. The news is that ''The British powers are marching hither- •ward" (1. 21).
' [Act IV, sc. ▼. The scene shifts to Gloucester's castle, or, as some editors make
* it, Regan's palace. Goneril's steward, Oswald, has arrived with a letter from his < mistress for Edmund ; but « he b posted hence on serious matter " (1. 8). Albany's •troops, it seems, are already in the field; Regan's are to "set forth to-morrow"
* (1. 16). Regan warns the Steward that she intends to take Edmund for herself, and •she offers him preferment if he can cut off old Gloucester. The position of this •scene should mark it as occurring on the same day as scenes iv, and vi; but the
* news as to the movement of the troops favours the notion that it represents an •earlier date; moreover, if it is allowed to retain its present place, we are called on
* to believe that Oswald, who again makes his appearance in sc. vi, is present with
* Regan, and is at Dover on one and the same day. Its true place seems to be in the
* interval I have marked between Days 7 and 8, and Eccles actually transposes it to
* that pasitiont making it, however, the evening of the day represented in Act IV, •sc. ii, my Day 7. On the whole, I think it best to enclose it within brackets, as in
* other cases of scenes which I suppose to be out of the due order of time.] ' On this, same day (the Ninth) Gloucester supposes that he has leaped from Dover Qiff, and Oswald is slain by Edgar.
Day Tenth, and last • Observe that this must be a separate day if IV, ▼, is prop- •erly placed; for Regan's troops, which then were to set forth on th* morrow^ are •now present, led by Edmund. Indeed, but for the almost lightning-speed of the
* action, some little interval might be supposed between this and Day 9. The tap •of the drum, heard in the last scene, is, however, against such an arrangement of •the time.'
This day extends to the end of the tragedy.
Thus, according to Daniel, • the longest period, including intervals, that can be 'allowed for this Play is one month; though perhaps little more than three weeks 11 'sufficient.'
412 APPENDIX
His division of time is thus tabulated : Day I. Act I, sc. i. '« 2. Act I, sc. ii.
An Interval ol something less than a fortnight ** 3. Act I, sc. iii, iv, and v. ** 4. Act II, sc. i, and ii. '* 5. Act II, sc. iii, and iv; Act III, sc. l-vl* M 6. Act III, sc. vii ; Act IV, sc. i. •« 7. Act IV, sc. ii.
Perhaps an Interval of a day or two. « 8. Act IV, sc. iii. " 9. Act IV, sc, iv, V, and vi. •« 10. Act IV, sc. vii; Act V, sc. i-iii. Eccles's scheme, Daniel thinks, < however ingenious in some respects, cannot be "reconciled with. the notes of time the Play itself contains.'
INSANITY
Mrs Lennox was the earliest, I think, to assert that Lear was really insane from the very first. She says {Shakespear Illustrated^ iii, 287) : Lear does not run mad till the third Act; yet his behaviour towards Cordelia in the first scene has all the appearance of a judgement totally depraved ; • • • Lear banishes [G>rdelia] his sight, consigns her over to want, and loads her with the deepest imprecations. What less than Phrenzy can inspire a rage so groundless, and a conduct so absurd ? Lear, while in his senses, acts like a madman, and from his first appearance to his last seems to be wholly deprived of his reason.
Joseph Warton, D. D. ( The Adventurer, 5 Jan., 1754) : Madness being occasioned by a close and continued attention of the mind to a single object, Shakespeare judiciously represents the resignation of his crown to daughters so cruel and unnatu- ral, as the particular idea which has brought on the distraction of Lear, and which perpetually recurs to his imagination, and mixes itself with all his ramblings. [This theory of the cause of Lear's madness brought out a reply, on the following Satur- day, from Charles Ranger [Arthur Murphy] in the Grays-Inn yaumal^ wherein It was contended that the ingratitude of Lear's daughters, and not his loss of power, was the cause of his madness. To this an Anonymous correspondent replied in the next week's issue, upholding Warton. Whether or not this Anonymous contributor was Warton himself, I really have not taken sufficient interest in the discussion to find out. Ranger rejoined in the course of the next few months, and to the second volume of The Gra^S'Inn Journal I refer all who are interested in the dispute, which I am not.— Ed.]
A. Bricham, M. D. (Shakespeare s Illustrations 0/ Insanity , Am. Joum. of Insan* ity, July, 1844) : Lear's b a genuine case of insanity from the beginning to the end; such as we often see in aged persons. On jeading it we cannot divest ourselves of the idea that it is a real case of insanity correctly reported. Still, we apprehend, the
INSANITY 4^3
play, or ease^ is generally mbunderstood. The general belief is, that the insanity of Lear originated solely from the ill-treatment of his daughters, while in truth he was insane before that, from the beginning of the play, when he gave his kingdom away, and banished, as it were, Cordelia and Kent, and abused his servants. The ill-usage of his daughters only aggravated the disease, and drove him to raving madness. Had it been otherwise, the case, as one of insanity, would have been inconsistent and very unusual. Shakespeare and Walter Scott prepare those whom they represent as insane, by education and other circumstances, for the disease, — they predispose them to insanity, and thus its outbreak is not unnatural. In the case of Lear the insanity is so evident before he received any abuse from his daughters, that, professionally speaking, a feeling of regret arises that he was not so considered and so treated. He was unquestionably very troublesome, and by his ' new pranks,' as his daughter calls them, and rash and variable conduct, caused his children much trouble, and intro- duced much discord into their households. In fact, a little feeling of commiseration for his daughters at first arises in our minds from these circumstances, though to be sure they form no excuse for their subsequent bad conduct. Let it be remembered they exhibited no marked disposition to ill-treat or neglect him until after the con- duct of himself and his knights had become outrageous. Then they at first reproved him, or rather asked him to change his course in a mild manner. Thus Goneril says to him: * I would you would make use of that good wisdom Whereof I know you * are fraught ; and put away These dispositions which oflaU transform you From what *you rightly are'; showing that previously he had been difierent. This, however, caused an unnatural and violent burst of rage, but did not originate his insanity, for he had already exhibited symptoms of it, and it would have progressed naturally even if he had not been thus addressed*
Lear is not after this represented as constantly deranged. Like most persons affected by this kind of insanity, he at times converses rationally.
In the storm-scene he becomes violently enraged, exhibiting what may be seen daily in a mad-house, a paroxysm of rage and violence. It is not until he has seen and conversed with Edgar, 'the philosopher and learned Theban,' as he calls him^ that he becomes a real maniac Alter this, aided by a proper course of treatment, he faUs asleep, and sleep, as in all similar cases, partially restores him. But the violence of his disease and his sufferings are too great for his feeble system, and he dies, and dies deranged. The whole case is instructive, not as an interesting story merely, but as a faithful history of a case of seniU insanity^ or the insanity of old age.
I. Ray, M. D. {Am,ydumal of Insanity, April, 1847) : In the tragedy of Xing Lear Shakespeare has represented the principal character as driven to madness by the un- expected ingratitude of his daughters; or, more scientifically speaking, he has repre- sented a strong predisposition to the disease as being rapidly developed under the ap- plication of an adequate exciting cause. It is no part 0^ his object to excite curiosity by a liberal display of wildness and fury, nor awaken our pity by the spectacle of a mind in ruins and unconscious of its wretchedness. He aimed at dramatic effect, by opening the fountains of sympathy for a being of noble nature and generous im- pulses, cruelly despoiled of the highest endowment of man, but not so far as to lose all trace of his original qualities, or cease for a moment to command our deepest re- spect. In Lear we have a man of a hot and hasty temper, of strong and generous passions, of a credulous and confiding disposition, governed by impulses rather than deliberate judgement, rendered impatient of restraint or contradiction by the habit of command, with a nervous temperament strongly susceptible to the vexations of 3S»
414 APPENDIX
life, and, moreover, with all these moral infirmities aggravated by old age. With these simple elements of character is mingled and assimilated more or less of mental derangement, with equal regard to pathological propriety and dramatic effect. And 80 nicely adjusted are the various elements of sanity and insanity, and so admirably do they support and illustrate one another, that we are not surprised in the progress of the action by violent contrasts ; and we feel at last as if it were the most natural thing in the world that Lear should go mad, and precisely in the way represented by the poet. Mad as he becomes, the prominent attributes of his character are always to be seen. Thit)ugh the whole play, he is the same generous, confiding, noble- hearted Lear. In Uiort, assuming Lear to be an historical portrait, instead of a poetical creation, we should say there existed in his case a strong predisposition to insanity, and that, if it had not been developed by the approach of old age or the conduct of bis daughters, it probably would have been by something else. His in- considerate rashness in distributing his kingdom among his children, his disinheriting the youngest for the fearless expression of her feelings, and his banishment of Kent for endeavoring to recall him to a sense of his folly, — ^all indicate an ill-balanced mind, if not the actual invasion of disease. This view of the case is confirmed by the conversation between the sisters inmiediately after the division of the kingdom [I, i, 287*299]. With a knowledge of insanity that could hardly have been ex* pected from any but a professional observer, Shakespeare has here and elsewhere recognized the fact, that very many of those who become insane are previously dis- tinguished by some of those mental irregularities that pass under the name of oddity or eccentricity. • • • The development of the early stage of Lear's insanity, or its incubation, as it is technically called, is managed with masterly skill, the more sur* prising as it is that stage of the disease which attracts the least attention. And the reason is, that the derangement is evinced, not so much by delusions or gross im- proprieties of conduct, as by a mere exaggeration of natural peculiarities, by incon- sistencies of behaviour, by certain acts for which very plausible reasons are assigned, though they would never have been performed in a perfectly sound state of mind, by gusts of passion at every trifling provocation, or by doing very proper things at un seasonable times and occasions. With his own free will and accord he gives away his kingdom, but finds it difficult to sink the monarch in the private citizen. He attaches to his person a band of riotous retainers, whose loose and lawless behaviour is destructive to the peace and good order of his daughter*s household. Goneril describes them as, ' Men so disordered, so debauched and bold, That this our court, < infected with their manners. Shows like a riotous inn.' Under such an infliction, it is not strange that she should remonstrate, and, had not the divine light already begun to flicker, he would have acknowledged the justice of the reproof. As it is, however, instead of admitting some share of the fault, he attributes the whole of it to her, flies into a passion, pours upon her head the bitterest curses, upbraids her with the vilest ingratitude, and forthwith proclaims his wrongs to the public ear. Like most cases of this kind in real life, it woul^ have, to a stranger, the appearance of a family quarrel springing from the ordinary motives of interest or passion, but where, really, the ill-regulated conduct resulting from the first influences of disease provokes restrictions more or less necessary and appropriate, that become exciting causes of further disorder. Another life-like touch is given to the picture in Lear's attributing all his troubles to filial ingratitude, not being aware, of course, that he was on the high road to insanity long before he had any reason to doubt their kind- ness* In fact, nothing is more common than for the patient, when telling his
INSANITY 415
story, to fix upon some event, and especially some act of his friends, as the cause of his troubles, which occurred long subsequently to the real origin of his disorder, and might have had but an accidental connection with it.
[P. 493.] * Oh, that way madness lies.' Unable as the insane are to perceive their own insanity, yet this apprehension of its approach, so frequently repeated by Lear, usually occurs during its incubation. "While still able to control his mental mani- festations, the patient b tortured with anticipations of insanity; but, when he actually becomes so insane that the most careless observer perceives the fact, then he enter- tains the most complacent opinion of his intellectual vigor and soundness. And yet this is one of the nicer traits -of insanity, which the ordinary observer would hardly be supposed to notice.
[P. 495.] Thus far, the progress of Lear's insanity is represented with the closest fidelity to nature. It is not more different from the disease, as daily observed, than Lear's moral and intellectual constitution, when in health, is difierent from ordinary men's. At every interview reason seems to have lost somewhat more of its control* The mental excitement has been steadily increasing, until now, having reached its height, he goes about singing, dancing, and capering through the fields, fantastically decorated with weeds and flowers, looking, acting, and talking like a madman. His perceptive organs are deceived by hallucinations ; and his discourse, though tinctured with his natural shrewdness and vigor of thought, is full of incoherence and incon- gruity. In short, he is now what is called raving. In the representation of this condition we have another instance of Shakespeare's unrivalled powers of observa* tion. To ordinary apprehension the raving of a maniac is but an arbitrary jumble of words and phrases, between which no connecting threads can be discerned. But, in fact, discordant and heterogeneous as they may appear, they are nevertheless sub- jected to a certain law of association, difficult as it may be frequently to discover it. The phenomenon may thus be physiologically explained. In consequence of the cerebral excitement, impressions long since made,— so long, perhaps, as to have been forgotten previous to the attack, — are so vividly and distinctly recalled that they ap- pear to be outward realities. So long as the intelUct retains its integrity, it is able to recognize the true nature of this phenomenon ; but, when touched by disease, it ceases to correct the error of perception. The impressions are actually considered to be what they appear, and the patient thinks and discourses about them as such.
[P. 498.] Bearing in mind these facts, we readily see how there may always be some method in madness, however wild and furious it may be— some traces of that delicate thread which, though broken in numerous points, still forms the connecting link be- tween many groups and patches of thought. It is in consequence of Shakespeare's knowledge' of this psychological law that, in all his representations of madness, even though characterized by wildness and irregularity, we are never at a loss to perceive that the disease is real and not assumed.
[P. 499.] It is not uncommon to meet with madmen of the most wild and turbulent description mixing up their utterances with the shrewdest remarks upon men and things, and the keenest and coolest invective against those who have incurred their displeasure. The poet, perhaps, has used the utmost license of his art in the present instance [IV, vi, 83-202], but if few madmen have exhibited So much matter mingled with their impertinency as Lear, it may be replied, in justification, that few men are endowed like Lear with such a union of strong passions and natural shrewdness of understanding.
BucKNiLL [p. 164] : If this great and sound critic [Hallam, see p. 428] had pes*
4^6 APPENDIX
sessed any practical knowledge of mental patbology, he could not have taken this view of the development of the character. Intellectual ^energy may, indeed, some- times be seen to grow stronger under the greatest trials of life, but never when the result of these trials is mental disease. So far as eloquence is the result of passion, excitement of passion may stimulate its display ; and it is remarkable that so long as Lear retains the least control over his passion, his imagination remains compara- tively dull, his eloquence tame. It is only when emotional expression is unbridled that the majestic flow of burning words finds vent. It is only when all the barriers of conventional restraint are broken down, that the native and naked force of the soul displays itself. The display arises from the absence of restraint, and not from the stimulus of disease.
[P. 167.] The persistency with which critics have refused to see the symptoms of insanity in Lear, until the reasoning power itself has become undeniably alien- ated, is founded upon that view of mental disease which has, until recently, been entertained even by physicians, and which b still maintained in courts of law, namely, that insanity is an affection of the intellectual, and not of the emotional, part of man*s nature. . . • With the exception of those cases of insanity which arise from injuries, blood-poisons, sympathetic irritations, and other sources of an unques- tionably physical nature, the common causes of insanity are such as produce emo- tional changes, either in the form of violent agitation of the passions, or that of a chronic state of abnormal emotion, which pronounces itself in the habitually exagge- rated force of some one passion or desire, whereby the healthy balance of the mind Is at length destroyed. From these and other reasons founded upon the symptoma- tology and treatment of insanity, upon the definite operation of the reasoning facul- ties, and their obvious inability to become motives for conduct without the intervention of emotional influence, and also from the wide chasm which intervenes and must intervene between all the legal and medical definitions of insanity founded upon the intellectual theory and the facts as they are observed in the broad field of nature, the conclusion appears inevitable that no state of the reasoning can, by itself, be the cause or condition of madness ; congenital idiocy and acquired dementia being alone excepted. The corollary of this is, that emotional disturbance is the cause and con* dition of insanity. This is especially obvious in the periods during which the dis- ease is developing ; ' in the prodromic period of the disorder the emotions are always < perverted while the reason remains intact.' Disorders of the intellectual faculties are secondary; they are often, indeed, to be recognized as the morbid emotions transformed into perverted action of the reason ; but in no cases are they primary and essential. How completely is this theory supported by the development of insanity, as it is portrayed in Lear! Shakespeare, who painted from vast observa- tion of nature, as he saw it without and felt it within, places this great fact broadly and unmistakably before us. It has indeed been long ignored by the exponents of medical and legal science, at the cost of ever-futile attempts to define insanity by its accidents and not by its essence; and, following this guidance, the literary critics of Shakespeare have completely overlooked the eariy symptoms of Lear*s insanity, and, according to the custom of the world, have postponed its recognition until he is run- ning about a frantic, raving madman.
Dr Carl Stark (ATflwii^Z^tfr. Eine psychiatrischi ShaJkespean-SiudU, Stuttgart, 1871, p. 53) : Only rarely do trouble, disillusion, violent affection, alone by them- selves, lead directly to insanity in a character disposed thereto; but generally, in ad- dition to these causes, there is a condition of the body that immediately occasions the
INSANITY 417
ontbreak of madness. This fact Shakespeare fully recognizes, and it is strikingly observable that Lear, shortly before the bursting forth of his disease, had in heavi* ness made a fatiguing journey, that in this condition, bodily and mental, consumed by the most violent emotions, he is at last exposed in the cold night to the rage of a fearful storm. Only too frequently it is just such circumstance of bodily or mental exhaustion that gives the impulse to mental disease and to that form of it manifested in Lear,— delirium.
[P. 55.] The feeling of bodily distress, as the disease approaches, also finds expres* sion when Lear exclaims : < O how thb mother swells up toward my heart ! ' as also the feeling of dizziness, not infrequently observed in such cases, is strikingly clothed in the words, ' My wits begin to tnnu'
ENGLISH CRITICISMS
DR JOHNSON
The tragedy of Lear is deservedly celebrated among the dramas of Shakespeare. There is, perhaps, no play which keeps the attention so strongly fixed; which so much agitates our passions and interests our curiosity. The artful involutions of distinct interests, the striking oppositions of contrary characters, the sudden changes of for* tune, and the quick succession of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of in- dignation, pity, and hope. There is no scene which does not contribute to the aggra* vat ion of the distress or conduct of the action, and scarce a line which does not con* duce to the progress of the scene. So powerful is the current of the poet's imagina* tion, that the mind which once ventures within it, is hurried irresistibly along.
On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct it may be observed, that he is represented according to histories at that time vulgarly received as true. And, per* haps, if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity and ignorance of the age to which this story is referred, it will appear not so unlikely as while we estimate Lear's man- ners by our own. Such preference of one daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on such conditions, would be yet credible if told of a petty prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakespeare, indeed, by the mention of his earls and dukes, has given us the idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated by softer man- ners ; and the truth is, that though be so nicely discriminates, and so minutely de- scribes the characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds the characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient and modem, English and foreign.
My learned friend Mr Warton, who has, in The Adventurer^ very minutely criti- cised this play, remarks that the instances of cruelty are too savage and shocking, and that the intervention of Edmund destroys the simplicity of the story. These objections may, I think, be answered by repeating that the cruelty of the daughter* is an historical fact, to which the poet has added little, having only drawn it into a series by dialogue and action. But I am not able to apologize with equal plausibility for the extrusion of Gloucester's eyes, which seems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatic exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind to relieve its dis- tress by incredulity. Yet, let it be remembered, that our author well knew what would please the audience for which he wrote.
The injury done by Edmund to the simplicity of the action is abundantly recom- pensed by the addition of variety by the art with which he is made to co-operate with the chief design, and the opportunity which he gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the wicked son with the wicked daughters, to impress this important moral, that villainy is never at a stop, that crimes lead to crimes, 418
COLERIDGE 4^9
and at last terminate in ruin. But, though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakespeare has suffered the virtue of Cordelia to perish in a just cause/contrary to the natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and, what is yet more strange, to the faith of chronicles. ... A play in which the wicked prosper, and the virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good, because it is a just representation of thei common events of human life; but, since all reasonable beings naturally love justice, I cannot easily be persuaded that the observation of justice makes a play worse; or that, if other excellencies are equal, the audience will not always rise better pleased from the final triumph of persecuted virtue.
In the present case the publick has decided. Cordelia, from the time of Tate, has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add anything to the general suffrage, I might relate, that I was many years ago so shocked by Cor- delia's death, that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an editor.
COLERIDGE
{Notes and Ledura^ p. i88, ed. 1874.)— [In the first scene of this tragedy] from L^, the persona patiens of his drama, Shakespeare passes without delay to the second in importance, the chief agent and prime mover, and introduces Edmund to our acquaintance, preparing us with the same felicity of judgement, and in the same easy and natural way, for his character in the seemingly casual communication of its origin and occasion. From the first drawing up of the curtain Edmund has stood befose us in the united strength and beauty of earliest manhood. Our eyes have been questioning him. Gifted as he is with high advantages of person, and further endowed by nature with a powerful intellect and a strong, energetic will, even with- out any concurrence of circumstances and accident, pride will necessarily be the sin that most easily besets him. But Edmund is also the known and acknowledged son of the princely Gloster; he, therefore, has both the germ of pride and the conditions best fitted to evolve and ripen it into a predominant feeling. Yet hitherto no reason appears why it should be other than the not unusual pride of person, talent, and birth, —a pride auxiliary, if not akin, to many virtues, and the natural ally of honorable im- pulses. But, alas ! in his own presence his own father takes shame to himself for the frank avowal that he is^his father, — ^he has * blushed so often to acknowledge him that ' he is now brazed to it I ' Edmund hears the circumstances of his birth spoken of with a most degrading and licentious levity, — ^his mother described as a wanton by her own paramour, and the remembrance of the animal sting, the low criminal gratifica- tions connected with her wantonness and prostituted beauty, assigned as the reason why * the whoreson must be acknowledged!' This, and the consciousness of its notoriety, the gnawing conviction that every show of respect is an effort of courtesy, which recalls, while it represses, a contrary feeling ; this is the ever-trickling flow of wormwood and gall into the wounds of pride; the corrosive virus which inoculates pride with a venom not its own, with envy, hatred, and a lust for that power which, in its blaze of radiance, would hide the dark spots on his disc ; with pangs of shame personally undeserved, and therefore felt as wrongs, and with a blind ferment of vin- dictive working towards the occasions and causes, especially towards a brother, whose stainless birth and lawful honors were the constant remembrancers of his own debase- ment, and were ever in the way to prevent all chance of its being unknown, or over- looked and forgotten. Add to this, that with excellent judgement, and provident foi
420 APPENDIX
the claims of the moral sense,— for that which, relatively to the drama, is caHed poetic justice, and as the fittest means for reconciling the feelings of the spectators to the horrors of Gloster's after-sufferings, — at least, of rendering them somewhat less un- endurable (for I will not disguise my conviction that, in this one point, the tragic in this play has been urged beyond the outermost mark and ne plus ultra of the dra- matic), Shakespeare has precluded all excuse and palliation of the guilt incurred by both the parents of the base-bom Edmund, by Gloster's confession that he was at the time a married man, and already blest with a lawful heir to his fortunes.
The mournful alienation of brotherly love, occasioned by the law of primogeni* ture in noble families, or rather by the unnecessary distinctions engrafted thereon, and this in children of the same stock, b still almost proverbial on the Continent,^- cspecially, as I know from my own observation, in the south of Europe,— and appean to have been scarcely less common in our own island before the Revolution of 1688, if we may judge from the characters and sentiments so frequent in our elder comedies. There is the younger brother, for instance, in Beaumont and Fletcher's play of the Scornful Lady, on the one side, and Oliver, in Shakespeare's As You Like It, on the other. Need it be said how heavy an aggravation, in such a case, the stain of has* tardy must have been, were it only that the younger brother was liable to hear his own dishonor and his mother's infamy related by his father with an excusing shrug of the shoulders, and in a tone betwixt waggery and shame!
By the circumstances here enumerated as so many predisposing causes, Edmund's character might well be deemed already su£Bciently explained, and our minds pre* pared for it. But in this tragedy the story or fable constrained Shakespeare to intro- duce wickedness in an outrageous form in the persons of Regan and GoneriL He had read nature too heedfully not to know that courage, intellect, and strength of character are the most impressive forms of power, and that to power in itself, without reference to any moral end, an inevitable admiration and complacency appertains, whether it be displayed in the conquests of a Buonaparte or Tamerlane, or in the form and the thunder of a cataract. But in the exhibition of such a character it was of the highest importance to prevent the guilt from passing into utter monstrosity, — ^which again depends on the presence or absence of causes and temptations sufficient to ac- count for the wickedness, without the necessity of recurring to a thorough fiendishness of nature for its origination. For such are the appointed relations of intellectual power to truth, and of truth to goodness, that it becomes both morally and poetically unsafe to present what is admirable, — what our nature compels us to admire, — ^in the mind, and what is most detestable in the heart, as co-existing in the same individual with- out any apparent connection, or any modification of the one by the other. That Shakspeare has in one instance, that of lago, approached to this, and that he has done it successfully, is perhaps the most astonishing proof of his genius and the opulence of its resources. But in the present tragedy, in which he was compelled to present a Goneril and a Regan, it was most carefully to be avoided; — ^and therefore the only one conceivable addition to the inauspicious influences on the preformatioo of Edmund's character is given, in the information that all the kindly counteractions to the mischievous feelings of shame, which might have been derived from co-domes- tication with Edgar and their common father, had been cut off* by his absence from home, and foreign education from boyhood to the present time, and a prospect of its continuance, as if to preclude all risk of his interference with the father's views for the elder and legitimate son; — <He hath been out nine years, and away he shall •gain.'
LAMB 421
LAMB
{Jbvsi Works^ p. 121, ed. 1836.)— So to see Letr acted,— to sec an old man totten jng about the stage with a walking-stick, turned out of doors by hb daughters in a rainy night— has nothing in it but what is painful and disgusting. We want to take him into shelter and relieve hinu That is all the feeling which the acting of Lear ever produced in me. But the Lear of Shakspeare cannot be acted. The con* temptible machinery by which they mimic the storm which he goes out in, is noc more inadequate to represent the horrors of the real elements than any actor can be to represent Lear; they might more easily propose to personate the Satan of Milton upon a stage, or one of Michael Angelo's terrible figures. The greatness of Lear is not in corporal dimension, but in intellectual : the explosions of his passion are terrible as a Tolcano : they are storms turning up and disclosing to the bottom that sea, his mind, with all its vast riches. It is his mind which is laid bare. This case of flesh and blood seems too insignificant to be thought on; even as he himself neglects it On the stage we see nothing but corporal infirmities and weakness, the impotence of rage ; while we read it, wtf see not Lear, but we are Lear^— we are ill his mind, we are sustained by a grandeur which baffles the malice of daughters and storms; in the aberrations of his reason, we discover a mighty irregular power of reasoning, immethodised from the ordinary purposes of life, but exerting its powers, as the wind blows where it llsteth, at will upon the corruptions and abuses of man* *kind. What have looks, or tones, to do with that sublime identification of his age with that of the heavens thenuehes, when, in his reproaches to them for conniving at the injustice of his children, he reminds them that 'they themselves are old'? What gesture shall we appropriate to this ? What has the voice or the eye to do with such things? But the play is beyond all art, as the tamperings with it show; it is too hard and stony; it must have love-scenes and a happy ending. It is not enough that Cordelia is a daughter, she must shine as a lover too. Tate has put his hook into the nostrib of this Leviathan, for Garrick and his followers, the showmen of the scene, to draw the mighty beast about more easily. A happy ending I — as if the living martyrdom that Lear had gone through, — the fla3ring of hb feelings alive, did not make a fair dbmissal from the stage of life the only decorous thing for him. If he b to live and be happy after, if he could sustain thb world's burden after, why 1 all thb pudder and preparation, — ^why torment ns with all thb unnecessary sympathy? As if the childbh pleasure of getting hb gilt robes and sceptre again could tempt him to act over again his mbused station,^as if at hb years, uid with hb experience. anything was left but to die.
Lear b essentially impossible to be represented on a stage.
HAZLITT
{Characters of Shaiespear^s Plays^ 1817, p. 153.)— We wish that we could pass thb play over and say nothing about it All that we can say must fall far short of the subject; or even of what we ourselves conceive of it To attempt to give a description of the play itself, or of its effect upon the mind, b mere impertinence; yet we must say something.— >It b, then, the best of all Shakespear's plays, for it b the one in which he was the most in earnest. He was here fairly cauglit in the wet) of hb own imaginatico. The^'passToh'WI&ch he has taken as hb subject b that which strikes its root deepest Into the human heart; of which the bond ia
36
422 APPENDIX
, the hardest to be unloosed; and the canceUing and tearing to pieces of which
I gives the greatest revukion to the frame. This depth of nature, this force of
passion, this tug and war of the elements of our being, this firm faith in filial piety,
and the giddy anarchy and whirling tumult of the thoughts at finding the prop failing
it, the contrast between the fixed immoveable basis of natural affection, and the rapid,
, irregular starts of imagination, suddenly wrenched from all its accustomed holds and
/ resting-places in the soul, this is what Shakespear has given, and what nobody else
but he could give. So we believe. — ^The mind of Lear, staggering between the
weight of attachment and the hurried movements of passion, is like a tall ship driven
about by the winds, buffeted by the furious waves, but that still rides above the storm,
having its anchor fixed in the bottom of the sea; or it b like the sharp rock circled
by the eddying whirlpool that fo^Uns and beats against it, or like the solid promontory
pushed from its ba^ by the force of an earthquake.
The character of Lear itself is very finely conceived for the purpose. It is the only ground on which such a story could be built with the greatest truth and effect.
Jit is his rash haste, his violent impetuo5ity,*his blindness to everything but the dic- tates of his passions or affections, that produces all his misfortunes, that aggravates his impatience of them, that enforces our pity for him. The part which Cordelia bears in the scene is extremely beautiful ; the story is almost told in the first words she utters. We see at once the precipice on which the poor old king stands from his own extravagant and credulous importunity, the indiscreet simplicity of her love (which, to be sure, has a little of her father's obstinacy in it), and the hoUowness of her sisters' pretensions. Almost the first burst of that noble tide of passion, which runs through the play, is in the remonstrance of Kent to his royal master on the injustice of his sentence against his youngest daughter : * Be Kent unmannerly, when Lear b mad 1 ' This manly plainness, which draws down on him the displeasure of the unadvised king» is worthy of the fidelity with which he adheres to his fallen fortunes. The true character of the two eldest daughters, Regan and Goneril (they are so thoroughly hateful that we do not even like to repeat their names) breaks out in their answer to Cordelia, who desires them to treat their father well : ' Prescribe not us our duties '—their hatred of advice being in proportion to their determination to do wrong, and to their hypocritical pretensions to do right. Their deliberate hypocrisy adds the last finishing to the odiousness of their characters. It is the absence of this detestable quality that is the only relief in thei:haracter of Edmund the Bastard, and that at times reconciles us to him. We are not tempted to exagge- rate the guilt of his conduct when he himself gives it up as a bad business and writes himself down < plain villain.' Nothing more can be said about it. His religious honesty in this respect is admirable. . . .
It has been said, and, we think, justly, that the Third Act of Othello and the first three Acts of Lear are Shakespear's great master-pieces in the logic of passion ; that they contain the highest examples, not only of the force of individual passion, but of its dramatic vicissitudes and striking effects arising from the different circum- stances and characters of the persons speaking. We see the ebb and flow of the feeling, its pauses and feverish starts, its impatience of opposition, its accumulating force when it has time to re-collect itself, the manner in which it avails itself of every passing word or gesture, its haste to repel insinuation, the alternate contraction and dilatation of the soul, and all the 'dazzling fence of controversy,' in this mortal com* bat with poisoned weapons aimed at the heart, where each wound is fatal. We see in Othello how the unsuspecting frankness and impetuous passions of the Moor are
HAZLITT 423
piayed upon and exasperated by the artful dexterity of lago. la the present play, that which aggravates the sense of sympathy in the reader, and of nncontroUable an- guish in the swollen heart of Lear, is the petrifying indifference, the cold, calculating, obdurate selfishness of his daughters. His keen passions seem whetted on their stony hearts. The contrast would be too painful, the shock too great, but for the intervention of the Fool, whose well-timed levity comes in to break the continuity of feeling when it can no longer be borne, and to bring into play again the fibres of the heart just as they are growing rigid from over-strained excitement. The imagi* nation is glad to take refuge in the half*comic, half-serious, conmients of the Fool, just as the mind, under the extreme anguish of a surgical operation, vents itself in sallies of wit. The character was also a grotesque ornament of the barbarous times in which alone the tragic ground-work of the story could be laid. In another point of view it is indispensable, inasmuch as while it is a diversion to the too great intensity of our disgust, it carries the pathos to the highest point of which it is capable, t»y show- ing the pitiable weakness of the old king's conduct and its irretrievable consequences^ in the most familiar point of view. I.ear may well ' beat the gate which let his folly in ' after, as the Fool says, * he has made his daughters his mothers.' . . •
Shakespear's mastery over his subject, if it was not art, was owing to a knowledge of the connecting links of the passions, and their effect upon the mind, still more wonderful than any systematic adherence to rules, and that anticipated and outdid all the efforts of the most refined art, not inspired and rendered instinctive by genius. ...
Four things have struck us in reading Lear:
1. That poetry is an interesting study, for this reason, that it relates to whatever Is niost interesting in human life. Whoever, therefore, has a contempt for poetry, has a contempt for himself and humanity.
2. That the language of poetry is superior to the language of painting, because the strongest of our recollections relate to feelings, not to faces.
3. That the greatest strength of genius is shown in describing the strongest pas lions; for the power of the imagination, in works of invention, must be in propoi^ tion to the force of the natural impressions which are the subject of them.
4. That the circumstance which balances the pleasure against the pain in tragedy is, that in proportion to the greatness of the evil, is our sense and desire of the op- posite good excited ; and that our sympathy with actual suffering is lost in the strong impulse given to our natural affections, and carried away with the swelling tide of passion that gushes from and relieves the heart.
The Plain ^eaker^ 1 826 (p. 479, ed. 1870).— Nobody from reading Shakespeare would know (except from the Dramatis Persona) that Lear was an English king. He is merely a king and a father. The ground is common : but what a well of tears has he dug out of it I There are no data in history lo go upon ; no advantage is taken of costume, no acquaintance with geography or architecture or dialect is neces- sary; but there is an old tradition, human nature — an old temple, the human mind, —and Shakespeare walks into it and looks about him with a lordly eye, and seizes on the sacred spoils as his own. The story is a thousand or two years old, and yet the tragedy has no smack of antiquarianism in it I should like very well to see Sir Walter give us a tragedy of this kind, a huge < globose ' of sorrow swinging round in mid air, independent of time, place, and circumstance, sustained by its own weight and motion, and not propped up by the levers of custom, or patched up with quaint, old-fashioned dresses, or set off by grotesque backgrounds or rusty armour, but in
424 APPENDIX
which the mere paraphernalia and accessories were left out of the question, and nothing bat the soul of passion and the pith of imagination was to be found. * A
* dukedom to a beggarly denier^ he would make nothing out of it. Does this prove that he has done nothing, or that he has not done the greatest things ? No, but that be is not like Shakespeare. For instance, when Lear says, * The little dogs and all, <Tray, Blanche, and Sweetheart, see they bark at me I ' there is no old Chronicle of the line of Brute, no black-leUer broadside, tattered ballad, no vague rumour, in which this exclamation is registered ; there is nothing romantic, quaint, mystericus in the objects introduced ; the illustration is borrowed from the commonest and most casual images in nature, and yet it is this very circimistance that lends its extreme force to the expression of his grief, by showing that even the lowest things in crea- tion, and the last you would think of, had in his imagination turned against him. All nature was, as he supposed, in a conspiracy against him, and the most trivial and insignificant creatures concerned in it were the most striking proofs of its malignity and extent. It is the depth of passion, however, or of the poet's sympathy with it, that distinguishes this character of torturing familiarity m them, invests them with corresponding importance, and suggests them by the force of contrast. It is not that certain images are surcharged with a prescriptive influence over the imagination from known or existing prejudices, or that to approach or even mention them is sure to excite a pleasing awe and horror in the mind (the effect in this case is mostly me- chanical)— the whole sublimity of the passage is from the weight of passion thrown into it, and this is the poet's own doing. This is not trick, but genius. Meg Mer- rilies on her death-bed says, ' Lay my head to the East ! ' Nothing can be finer or more thrilling than this in its way, but the author has little to do with it. It is an Oriental superstition ; it is a proverbial expression ; it is a part of the gibberish (sub- lime though it be) of her gypsy clan. ' Nothing but his unkind daughters could have
* brought him to this pass I ' This is not a cant phrase, nor the fragment of an old legend, nor a mysterious spell, nor the butt-end of a wizard's denunciation. It is the mere natural ebullition of passion, urged nearly to madness, and that will admit no other cause of dire misfortune but its own, which swallows up all other griefs. The force of despair hurries the imagination over the boundary of fact and common sense, and renders the transition sublime, but there is no precedent or authority for it, except in the general nature of the human mind. I think, but am not sure, that Sir Walter Scott has imitated this turn of reflection, by making Madge Wildfire ascribe Jeanie Dean's uneasiness to the loss of her baby, which had unsettled her own brain. Again, Lear calls on the Heavens to take his part, for ' they are old like him.' Here there is nothing to prop up the image but the strength of passion^ confounding the infirmity of age with the stability of the firmament, and equalling the complainant, through the sense of suffering and wrong, with the Majesty of the Highest. This finding out a parallel between the most unlike objects, because the individual would wish to find one to support the sense of his own misery and help- lessness, is truely Shakespearian; it is an instinctive law of our nature, and the genuine inspiration of the Muse. Racine would make him pour out three hundred verses of lamentation for his loss of kingdom, his feebleness, and his old age, coming to the same conclusion at the end of every third couplet, instead of making him grasp at once at the Heavens for support.
BLACKWOOiyS MAGAZINE 4^5
BLACKWCX)D'S MAGAZINE
(VoL T» p. 328» May, 1819.)— We have yet to speak of the most pathetic of th« plays of Shakespeare— Z/ar. A stoiy mmatnral and irrational in its fonndation* but, at tiie same time, a natural favonrite of tradition, has become, in the hands of Shake* ipeare, a tragedy of snipassing grandeur and interest He has seized upon that germ of interest whidi had already made the story a favourite of popular tradition, and unfolded it into a work for the passionate sympathy of all — ^young, old, rich, and poor, learned, and illiterate, virtuous, and depraved. The majestic form of the kingly* hearted old man — ^the reverend head of the broken-hearted father — * a head so old and white tfs this '—the royalty firom which he is deposed, but of which he can never be divested — ^the father's heart which, rejected and trampled on by two children, and trampling on its one most young and duteous child, is, in the utmost degree, a fitther's still— the two characters, father and king, so high to our imagination and love, blended in the reverend image of Lear— ^«M in their destitution, yet both in their height of greatness— the spirit blighted, and yet undepressed— the wits gone, and yet the moral wisdom of a good heart left unstained, almost unobscured — the wild raging of the elements, joined with human outrage and violence to persecute the helpless, unresisting, almost unoffending sufferer ; and he himself in the midst of all imagin* able misery and desolation, descanting upon hixnself, on the whirlwinds that drive around him — and then turning in tenderness to some of the wild, motley association of sufferers among whom he stands, — all this is not like what has been seen on any stage, perhaps in any reality, but it has made a world to our imagination about one single imaginary individual, such as draws the reverence and sympathy which should seem to belong properly only to living men« It is like the remembrance of some wild« perturbed scene cf real life. Everything is perfectly woeful in this world of woe. The vezy assumed madness of Edgar, which, if the stoxy of Edgar stood alone, would be insufferable, and would utterly degrade him to us, seems, associated as he is with Lear, to come within the consecration of Lear's madness. It agrees with all that is brought together : — the night — the storms— the honselessness — Glo'ster with his eyes put out — the Fool — the semblance of a madman, and Lear in his mad- ness, are all bound together by a strange kind of sympathy, confusion in the elements of nature, of human society, and the human soul.
Throughout all the play is there not sublimity felt amidst the condnual presence of all kinds of disorder and confusion in the natural and moral world,— « continual consciousness of eternal order, law and good ? This it is that so exalts it in our eyes. There is more justness of intellect in Lear's madness than in his right senses, as if the indestructible divinity of the spirit gleamed at times more brightly through the ruins of its earthly tabernacle. The death of Cordelia and the death of Lear leave on our minds, at least, neither pain nor disappointment, like a common play ending ill; but, like all the rest, they show us human life involved in darkness, and conflicting with wild powers let loose to rage in the world, a Ufe which continually seeks peace, and which can only find its good in peace— tending ever to the depth of peace, but of which the peace is not here. The feeling of the play, to those who rightly consider it, is high and cahn, because we are made to know, from and through those very passions which seem there convulsed, and from the very structure of life and happiness that seems there crushed— even in the law of those passions and that life — this eternal Truth, that evil must not be, and that good must be. The only thing intolerable was, that Lear should, by the \try truth of his daughter's love, bt 36»
426 APPENDIX
separated from her lore ; and his restoration to her love, and therewith to his owa perfect mind, consommales all that was essentially to be desired — a consummation afler which the rage and horror of mere matter-dtsrarMng deaffi seems vain and idle. In fact, Lear's killing the slave who was hanging Ccndelia — ^bearing her dead in his arms— and his heart borsting over her, — are no more than the full consumma- tion of their reunited love; — and there father and daughter lie in final and imper- turbable peace. Cordelia, whom we see at last lying dead before us, and over whom we shed such floods of loving and approving tears, scarcely speaks or acts in the play at all; she appears bat at the beginning and the end, b absent from all the impres- sive and memorable scenes; and to what she does say there is not much effect given, yet, by some divine power of conception in Shakespeare's soul, she always seems to ottr memory one of the principal characters; and while we read the play she is con- tinually present to our imagination. In her sisters' ingratitude, her ^al love is felt ; in the hopelessness of the broken-hearted king, we are turned to that perfect hope that is reserved for him in her loving bosom ; in the midst of darkness, confusion, and nusery, her fonn, like a hovering angel, is seen casting its radiance on the storm.
MRS JAMESON
{CJutraiUris^ of WomiH^ second ed. 1833, ii, 88.)— ITiere is in the beauty oi Cordelia's character an effect too sacred for words, and almost too deep for tears; within her heart is a fathomless well of purest affection, but its waters sleep in silence and obscurity,— never failing in their depth and never overflowing in their fulness. Everything in her seems to lie beyond our view, and affects us in a manner which we feel rather than perceive. The character appears to have no surface, no salient points on which the fancy can readily seize; there is little external development of intellect, less of passion, and still less of imagination. It is completely made out in the' course of a few scenes, and we are surprised to find that in those few scenes there is matter of a life of reflectioo, and materials enough for twenty heroines. If Liar be the grandest of Shakespeare's tragedies, Cordelia in herself, as a human being, governed by the purest and holiest impulses and motives, the most refined from all dross of selfishness and passion, approaches near to perfection; and in her adapta* tion, as a. dramatic personage, to a determinate plan of action, may be pronounced altogether perfect The character, to speak of it critically as a poetical conception, is not, however, to be comprehended at once, or easily; and, in the same manner, Cordelia, as a woman, is one whom we must have loved before we could have known her, and known her long before we could have known her truly.
Most people, I believe, have heard the story of the young German artist MfUlei, who, while employed in copying and engraving Raffaelle's Madonna del Sisto, was so penetrated by its celestial beauty, so distrusted his own power to do justice to it, that between admiration and despair he fell into a sadness; thence, throqgh the usual gradations, into a melancholy, thence into madness ; and died just as he had put the finishing-stroke to his own matchless work, which had occupied him for dght years. With some slight tinge of this concentrated enthusiasm I have learned to contemplate the character of Cordelia; I have looked into it till the revelation of its hidden beauty, and an intense feeling of the wonderful genius that created it, have filled me at once with delight and despair. Like poor Milller, but with more reason, I do despair of ever conveying, through a different and inferior medium. the impression made on my own mind to the mind of another. • . •
MRS yAMESON 427
Amid the awful, the overpowering, interest of the story, amid the terrible convul« sions of passion and saffering, and pictures of moral and physical wretchedness which harrow up the soul, the tender influence of Cordelia, like that of a celestial visitant, is felt and acknowledged without being understood. Like a soft star that shines for a moment from behind a stormy cloud, and the next is swallowed up in tempest and darkness, the impression it leaves is beautiful and deep, but vague. Speak of Cordelia to a critic or to a general reader, all agree in the beauty of the portrait, for all must feel it ; but when we come to details, I have, heard more vari- ous and opposite opinions relative to her than to any other of Shakespeare's cha- I racters— a proof of what I have advanced in the first instance, that from the sim-
' plidty with which the character is dramatically treated, and the Small space it occu-
pies, few are aware of its internal power, of its wonderful depth of purpose.
It appears to mi that the whole character rests upon the two sublimest principles of human action — the love of truth and the sense of duty; but these, when they stand alone (as in the Antigone)^ are apt to strike us as severe and cold. Shakespeare has, therefore, wreathed them round with the dearest attributes of our feminine nature, the power of feeling and inspiring affection. The first part of the play shows j us how Cordelia is loved, the second part how she can love.
[P* 97-] VHiat is it, then, which lends to Cordelia that peculiar and individual truth of character which distinguishes her from every other human being?
It is a natural reserve, a tardiness of disposition, < which often leaves the history ^unspoke which it intends to do; ' a subdued quietness of deportment and expres- sion, a veiled shyness thrown over all her emotions, her language, and her manner, making the outward demonstration invariably fall short of what we know to be the feeling within. Not only is the portrait singularly beautiful and interesting in itself, but the conduct of Cordelia, and the part which she bears in the beginning of the story, is rendered consistent and natural by the wonderful truth and delicacy with which this peculiar disposition is sustained throughout the play.
In early youth, and more particularly if we are gifted with a lively imagination, such a character as that of Cordelia is calculated above every other to impress and captivate us. Anything like mystery, anything withheld or withdrawn from our notice, seizes on our fancy by awakening our curiosity. Then we are won more by what we half perceive and half create than by what is openly expressed and freely bestowed. But this feeling is a part of our young life ; when time and years have chilled us, when we can no longer afford to send our souls abroad, nor from our own superfluity of life and sensibility spare the materials out of which we build a shrine for our idol — ^then do we seek, we ask, we thirst for that warmth of frank, confiding tenderness, which revives in us the withered affections and feelings, buried, but not dead. Then the excess of love is welcomed, not repelled ; it is gracious to us as the sun and dew to the seared and riven trunk, with its few green leaves. Lear is Old^* four-score and upward' — ^but we see what he has been in former days; the ardent passions of youth have turned to rashness and wilfulness ; he is long passed that age when we are more blessed in what we bestow than in what we receive. VThen he says to his daughters, ' I gave you all ! ' we feel that he requires all in re- turn, with a jealous, restless, exacting affection which defeats its own wishes. How many such are there in the world! How many to sympathize with the fiery, fond old man, when he shrinks as if petrified from Cordelia's quiet, calm reply 1
[P. 114.] In the Antigone there is a great deal of what may be called the effect of situation, as well as a great deal of poetry and character; she says the most bean*
428 APPENDIX
tifal things in the world, performs the most heroic actions, and all her words and actions are so placed before us as to command our admiration. According to the classical ideas of virtue and heroism, the character is sublime, and in the delineation there is a severe simplicity mingled with its Grecian grace, a variety, a grandeur, an elegance which appeal to our taste and our understanding, while they fill and exalt the imagination; but in Cordelia it is not the external colouring or form, it is not what she says or does, but what she is in herself, what she feels, thinks, and suffers which continually awaken our sympathy and interest. The heroism of Cordelia is more passive and tender— it melts into our heart; and in the veiled loveliness and unostentatious delicacy of her character there is an effect more profound and artless, if it be less striking and less elaborate, than in the Grecian heroine. To Antigone our admiration, to Cordelia our tears. Antigone stands before us in her austere and statue-like beauty like one of the marbles of the Parthenon. If Cordelia remind us of anything on earth, it is of one of the Madonnas in the old Italian pictures, * with * downcast eyes beneath th' almighty dove; * and, as that heavenly form is connected with our human sympathies only by the expression of maternal tenderness, or ma- ternal sorrow, even so, Cordelia would be almost too angelic were she not linked to our earthly feelings, bound to our very hearts, by her filial love, her wrongs, her sufferings, and her tears.
HALLAM
{^Introduction to the Lit, of Europe^ iii, 308, 1837 ; London, 1869, eighth ed.) — If originality of invention did not so much stamp every play of Shakespeare that to name one as the most original seems a disparagement to others, we might say that this prerogative of genius was exercised above all in Lear, It diverges more from the model of regular tragedy than McLcbeth or Othello^ and even more than Hamlet; but the fable is better constructed than in the last of these, and it displays full as much of the almost superhuman inspiration of the poet as the other two. Lear him- self is, perhaps, the most wonderful of dramatic conceptions, ideal to satisfy the most romantic imagination, yet idealized from the reality of nature. Shakespeare, in pre- paring us for the most intense sympathy with this old man, first abases him to the ground; it is not CBdipus against whose respected age the gods themselves have conspired; it is not Orestes, noble-minded and affectionate, whose crime has been virtue; it is a headstrong, feeble, and selfish being, whom, in the first Act of the tragedy, nothing seems capable of redeeming in our eyes ; nothing but what follows, intense woe, unnatural wrong. Then comes on that splendid madness, not absurdly sudden as in some tragedies, but in which the strings that kept his reasoning power together give way one after the other in the frenzy of rage and grief. Then it is that we find what in life may sometimes be seen, the intellectual energies grow stronger in calamity, and especially under wrong. An awful eloquence belongs to finmerited suffering. Thoughts burst out, more profound than Lear in his prosperous hour could ever have conceived; inconsequent, for such is the condition of madness, but in themselves fragments of coherent truth, the reason of an unreasonable mind.
Timon of Athens is cast as ft were in the same mould as Lear; it is the same essential character, the same generosity, more from wanton ostentation than love of ethers, the same fierce rage under the smart of ingratitude, the same rousing up in that tempest of powers that had slumbered unsuspected in some deep recess of the soul ; for had Timon or Lear known that philosophy of human nature in their calmer moments, which fury brought forth, they would never have had such terrible oco^
SHELLEY-^SWINBURNEr^SNIDER 429
sion to display it. The thoughtless confidence of Lear in his children has something in it far more touching than the self-beggary of Timon; though both one and the other have prototypes enough in real life. And as we give the old king more of our pity, so a more intense abhorrence accompanies his daughters and the evil characters of that drama than we spare for the miserable sycophants of the Athenian. • . . There seems to have been a period of Shakespeare's life when his heart was ill at ease, and ill-content with the world or his own conscience; the memory of hours mis-spent, the pang of affection misplaced or unrequited, the experience of man's worser nature which intercourse with unworthy associates, by choice or circumstance, peculiarly teaches; — ^these, as they sank down into the depths of his great mind, seem not only to have inspired into it the conception of Lear and Timon. but that of one primary character, the censurer of mankind.
SHELLEY
(Defence of Poetry, Essays, &c., 1840, p. 20.)— The modem practice of blending comedy with tragedy, though liable to great abuse in point of practice, is undoubt- edly an extension of the dramatic circle; but the comedy should be, as in Xing Lear, universal, ideal, sublime. It b perhaps the intervention of this principle which determines the balance in favour of Xing Lear against (Edipus T^rannus, or the Agamemnon, or, if you will, the trilogies with which they are connected ; unless the intense power of the choral poetry, especially that of the latter, should be con- sidered as restoring the equilibrium. Xing Lear, if it can sustain this comparison, may be judged to be the most perfect specimen of the dramatic art existing in the world; in spite of the narrow conditions to which the poet was subjected by the ignorance of the philosophy of the drama which has prevailed in modem Europe.
SWINBURNE
{Fortnightly Rev,, I Jan., 1876, p. 34.) — I am not minded to say much of Shake- speare's Arthur; there are one or two figures in the world of his work of which there are no words that would be fit or good to say. Another of these is Cordelia. The place they have in our lives and thoughts is not one for talk; the niche set apart for them to inhabit in our secret hearts is not penetrable by the lights and noises of common day. There are chapels in the cathedral of man^s highest art as in that of his inmost life, not made to be set open to the eyes and feet of the world. Love and death and memory keep charge for us in silence of some beloved names. It is the crowning glory of genius, the final miracle and transcendent gift of poetry, that it can add to the number of these, and engrave on the ytrj heart of our remembrance fresh names and memories of its own creation.
DENTON J. SNIDER
{System of Shakespear^s Dramas, vol. i, p. X31, St. Louis, 1877.) — ^The general action of the play has essentially two movements, which pass into each other by the finest and most intricate network. There b in it a double guilt and a double retri- bution. The first movement (embracing mainly three Acts) exhibits the complete disintegration of the family. It portrays the first guilt and the first retribution — the wrong of the parents and its punishment. Lear banishes his daughter; his daugh-
430 APPENDIX
ten in turn drive him out of doors. Gloster expels from bome and disinherits his true and faithful son in favour of the illegitimate and faithless son, and is then him- self falsely accused and betrayed by the latter. Cordelia, too, falls into guilt in her attempt to avenge the wrongs of her father. Thus the disruption b complete— the parents expelled, the false triumphant, the faithful in disguise and banishment. Such is the first movement— the wrong done by the parents to their children, and its punishment
The second movement will unfold the second retribution, springing from the second guiltp— the vrrong done by the children to their parents, and its punishment. It must be observed, however, tiuit the deecU of the children which are portrayed in the first movement of the drama constitute their guilt. On the one hamd they are instruments of retribution, but on t£e other hand their conduct is a violation of ethical principles as deep as that of their parents. They are the avengers of guilty but in this very act become themselves guilty, and must receive punishment The general result, therefore, of the second movement will be the completed retribution.
Lear and his three guilty daughters — ^for we have to include Cordelia under this category — as well as Gloster and his guilty son, perish. The faithful of both families come together, in their banishment, in order to protect their parents; thereby, how- ever, Cordelia assails the established State. The consequence of her deed is death. The faithless of both families also coihe together; though they triumph in the external conflict, there necessarily arises a struggle among themselves— for how can the faithless be faithful to one another? The jealousy of the tvro sisters leads to a conspiracy, and to their final destruction. Edmund, faithless to both, falls at last by the hand of his brother, whom he has so deeply wronged. . . •
[P. 152.] The Fool, too, is present in the tempest, trying to divert the Idng from his thoughts, and to jest away his approaching insanity: but it is to no purpose. VTisdoflft— though, to effect its design, it has assumed the garb of foUy— has not suc- ceeded. The Fool, therefore, drops out now ; his function must cease when Lear is no longer rational, but has himself turned fooL It was his duty to reflect the acts of the King in their true character, so that the latter might bdiold what he was doing. When intelligence is gone this is impossible.
[P. l6a] It is manifest that Cordelia is difierent from what she was in the Pint Act; a new element of her nature seems to have developed itself. Previously we saw her rigid moral code and her intellectuality brought into the greatest pronunence; now her character, in its softer and more beautiful features b shown; we behold her devotion to parent as well as her intense emotional nature, which, however, she b able to keep under perfect controL Still, the germ of thb new trait can be found in her earlier declarations and demeanour. In the first Scene— that of the partition^ •he repeatedly expresses her affection for her lather : * What shall Cordelia speak ?— * Love and be silent,* &c. It b not merely the physical repose prescribed fay the doctor which clears up the donded intellect of Lear— it b the presence of CordeUa, who brings with her a double restoration— thai of sabjecdve affection on the one hand, and that of objective institutions on the other. It was the kss of these^ through the conduct of R^an and Goneril, which shattcfed hb reason; saoi^, there* forci returns with the return of Cordelia.
Bat her third purpose b that which rains her canse. She brings a F^cncli amy into England to secure to her lather hb right, as she says, by which she evideatly ■wans to place him again on the throne. She thus assails the hij^iest ethical insti- tttdott of man— the State— end vnwittingly commits hendf the greatest Bnw^f
SNIDER-^HUDSON 43 1
Moreover. Lear had resigned his power and divided his kingdom ; he had no longer any just claim to the crown. Her invasion of the country rouses up against her the head of the State, Albany, who was otherwise favourable both to her and to Lear. But he had to defend his own realm, though he hates his associates and loves those who are fighting against him. Had Cordelia been satisfied with the restoration of her father to his reason and to his family, Albany would have given her both aid and sympathy. However much we may admire her character and regret her fate» however indignant we may be against her two sisters, still we must, in the end, say she did wrong— she violated the majesty of the State. In her affection for parent, she attempted to destroy the higher principle for the sake of the lower. The result is, she loses the battle, b taken prisoner, and perishes.
[P. 1 66.] The action has now completed its revolution, and brought back to all the leading characters the consequences of their deeds ; the double guilt and the double retribution have been fully portrayed. The treatment of children by parents, and of parents by children, is the theme; both fidelity and infidelity are shown in their most extreme manifestation. Two families are taken — that of the monarch and that of the subject ; the former develops within itself its own collisions, free from any external restraint, and hence exhibits the truest and most complete result; the latter is largely influenced and determined in its course by authority, but an authority which is itself poisoned with domestic conflict. The exhaustiveness of the treatment is worthy of careful study. Regan is faithless to parent; Goneril is faith- less to both parent and husband; Cordelia is true to both, yet assails another ethical principle — the State. The two sons and the two sons-in-law exhibit also distinct phases of the domestic tie; they are still further divided, by the fundamental theme of the play, into the faithful and faithless— that is, a son and a son-in-law belong to each side. But it is a curious fact, that one very important relation of the family is wholly omitted — ^no mother appears anywhere; sonhood, jaughterhood, wifehood, fatherhood, are all present, but the tenderest bond of existence — ^motherhood — is wanting. The poet evidently does not need it, for the action is already stifficiently full and complicated ; perhaps, too, the character of the mother may be supposed to reappear in some of her children, as, for example, in Cordelia, who b so different from her father. But one cannot help commending the true instinct, or, what is more likely, the sound judgment, which kept such a mild and tender relation out of the cauldron of passion and ingratitude which seethes with such destructive energy in this appalling drama.
HUDSON
{Tragetly of King Lear, 4to, p. 14, Boston, 1 879.) — ^There is no accounting for the conduct of Goneril and Regan but by supposing them possessed with a strong original impulse of malignity. The main points of their action were taken from the old story. Character, in the proper sense of the term, they have none in the legend, and the poet invested them with characters suitable to the part they were believed to have acted.
Whatever of soul these beings possess is all in the head; they have no heart to guide or inspire their understanding, and but enough of understanding to seize oc- casions and frame excuses for their heartlessness. Without affection, they are also without shame ; there being barely so much of human blood in their veins as may suffice for quickening the brain without sending a blush to the cheek. With a sort of hell-inspired tact, they feel their way to a fiiting occasion, but drop the mask as
432 APPENDIX
soon as their ends are reached, caring little or nothing for appearances after their falsehood has done its work. There is a smooth, glib rhetoric in their professions of love, unwarmed with the least grace of real feeling, and a certain wiry virulence and intrepidity of mind in their after«speaking that b fairly terrific. No touch of nature finds a response in their bosoms; no atmosphere of comfort can abide their presence; we feel that they have somewhat within that turns the milk of humanity to venom, which all the wounds they can inflict are but opportunities for casting.
The subordinate plot of the drama serves the purpose of relieving the improba* bility of their behaviour. . • • The agreement of the sister-fiends in filial ingratitude might seem, of itself, to aigue some sisterly attachment between them. So that, to bring out their characters truly, it had to be shown that the same principle which unites them against their father will, on the turning of occasion, divide them agdnst each other. Hence the necessity of setting them forth in relations of such a kind as may breed strife between them. In Edmund, accordingly, they find a character wicked enough, and energetic enough in his wickedness, to interest their feelings; and/ because they are both alike taken with him, therefore they will cut their way to him through eac^ other's life. And it is considerable that their passion for him pro* ceeds mainly upon his treachery to his father, as though from such similarity of action they inferred a congeniality of mind. For even to have hated each other from love of any one but a villain, and because of his villainy, had seemed a degree of virtue in beings such as they are. . • •
As a portraiture of individual character, Lear himself holds, to my mind, much the same pre-eminence over all others which I accord to the tragedy as a dramatic composition. The delineation reminds me^ oftener than any other, of what some one has said of Shakespeare, — that, if he had been the author of the human heart, it seems hardly possible he should have better understood what was in it, and how it was made. And here, I think, may be fitly applied to him one of his own descrip* tions from his poem entitled A Lcvu^s Complaint:
' So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kind of arguments and questions deep, AH replication prompt, and reason strong. For his advanuge still did wake and sleep : To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep. He had the dialect and different skill. Catching all passions in his craft at wiU.'
The poet often so orders his delineations as to start and propel the mind back- wards over a large tract of memory. As in real life, the persons, when they first come to our knowledge, bring each their several dower of good or evil inherited from their past hours. What they are now remembers what they were long ago, and in their to-day we have the slow cumulative result of a great many yesterdays. Thus even his most ideal characters are invested with a sort of historic verisimilitude; the effects of what they thought and did long before still remain with them, and in their present speech and action is opened to us a long-drawn vista of retrospection. And this is done, not in the way of narrative, but of suggestion; the antecedent history being merely implied, not related, in what is given. Sometimes he makes the per- sons speak and act from their wAoU character at once; that is, not only from those parts of it which are seen, but from those which lie back out of sight, from hidden causes, from motives unavowed, and even from springs and impulses of which the subject himself is not conscious. The effect of this is quite remarkable, and such u
HUDSON 433
to outstrip the swiftest wing of analysis. It sends us rigbt beyond the characters to Nature herself, and to the common elementary principles of all character, so touch- ing the mind's receptive powers as to kindle its active and productive powers.
Lear b among the poet's finest instances, perhaps his very finest, in this art of his- torical perspective. The old king speaks out from a large fund of vanishing recol- lections; and in his present we have the odour and efficacy of a remote and varied past The play forecasts and prepares, from the outset, that superb intellectual ruin where we have * matter and impertinency mix'd, reason in madness;' the earlier transpirations of the character being shaped and ordered with a view to that end. Certain presages and predispositions of insanity are manifest in his behaviour from the first, as the joint result of nature, of custom, and of superannuation. We see ixk him something of constitutional rashness of temper, which, moreover, has long been fostered by the indulgences and flatteries incident to his station, and which, through the cripplings of age, is now working Idose from the restrsunts of his manlier judg- ment. He has been a wise and good man, strong in reason, just in feeling, and recti- tude of purpose, but is now decidedly past, his faculties ; which however, as often happens, is unapparent to him save as be feels it in a growing indisposition to the cares and labours of his office. So that there is something of truth in what Goneril says of him ; just enough to make her appear the more hateful in speakingf of it as fihe does : * The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look * to receive from his age, not alone the imperfections of long-ingraffed condition, but 'therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them.' He is indeed full of inconstant starts and petty gusts of impatience, such as are ex* Cttsable only in those who have not yet reached, and those who have plainly outlived, the period of discretion and self-restraint. . • •
The first two speeches of the play inform us that the division of the kingdom has already been resolved upon, the terms of the division arranged, and the several por* tions allotted. This fact is significant, and goes far to interpret the subsequent action, inasmuch as it infers the trial of professions to be but a trick of the king's, designed^ perhaps, to surprise his children into expressions which filial modesty would else for- bid. Lear has a morbid hungering after the outward tokens of affection : he is not content to know that the heart beats for him, but craves to feel and count over its beatings. The passion is indeed a selfish one, but it is the selfishness of a right generous and loving nature. Such a diseased longing for sympathy is not the growth of an unsympathizing heart. And Lear naturally looks for the strongest professions where he feels the deepest attachment. . . .
Men sometimes take a strange pleasure in acting without or against reason; since this has to their feelings the effect of ascertaining and augmenting their power; asr if they could make a right or a truth of their own. It appears to be on some such principle as this that arbitrariness, or a making of the will its ow» reason, sometimes becomes a passion in men. Such a stress of self-will proceeds, I apprehend, on much the same ground as Sir Thomas Browne's faith, which delighted in making honours for itself out of impossibilities. That certain things could not be, was, he tells us, his strongest argument for believing them ; that is, he felt the surer of his creed as it reversed the laws oif thought, and grew by the contradictions of reason. The very shame, too, of doing wrong sometimes hurries men into a barring of themselves off from retreat. And so it appears to be with Lear in his treatment of Cordelia. In the first place, he wiii do the thing because he knows it to be wrong; and then the uneasy sense of a wrong done prompts him to bind the act with an oath; that is» 37 2C
434 APPENDIX
because he ought not to have driven the nail, therefore he eluuhei it This action of mind is indeed abnormaV/and belongs to what may be termed the border-land of sanity and madness; nevertheless, something very like it is not seldom met with in men who are supposed to be in full possession of their wits. . . .
But the great thing in the delin#aion of Lear is the effect and progress of his passion in redeveloping hb intellect. For the character seems designed in part to illustrate the power of passion to reawaken and raise the faculties from the tomb in which age has quietly inumed them« And sa in Lear we have, as it were, a handful of tumult embosomed in a sea, gradually overspreading and pervading and convul- sing the entire mass. • • •
When, however, the truth is forced home, and he can no longer evade or shuffle off the conviction, the effect is indeed terrible. So long as his heart had-tomething to lay hold of and cling to and rest upon, his mind was the abode of order and peace. But, now that hb feelings are rendered objectless, torn from their accus* tomed holdings, and thrown back upon themselves, there springs up a wild chaos of the brain, a whirling tumult and anarchy of the thoughts, which, till imagination has time to work, chokes down his utterance. Then comes the inward, tugging conflict, deep as life, which gradually works up hb imaginative forces, and kindles them to a preternatural resplendence. The crushing of hb aged spirit brings to light its hidden depths and buried riches. Thus his terrible energy of thought and speech, as soon as imagination rallies to hb aid, grows naturally from the struggle of hb feelings,-* a struggle that seems to wrench hb whole being into dblocation, oonvobing and upturning hb soul from the bottom. Thence proceeds, to quote Mr Hallam, < that ' splendid madness, not absurdly sudden, as in some tragedies, but in which the strings * that keep hb reasoning powers together give way one after the other in the frenzy ' of rage and grief.'
In the transition of Lear's mind from its first stillness and repose to its subsequent tempest and storm; in the hurried revulsions and alternations of feeling,— the fast- rooted faith in filial virtue, the keen sensibility to filial ingratitude, the mighty hunger of the heart, thrice repelled, yet ever strengthened by repulse; and in the tuming-up of sentiments and faculties deeply imbedded beneath the incrustations of time and place; — in all this we have a retrospect of the aged sufferer's whole life ; the abridged history of a mind that has passed through many successive stages, each putting off the form, yet retaining and perfecting the grace of the preceding. • . •
In the trial of professions there appears something of obstinacy and sullenness in Cordelia's answer, as if she would resent the old man's credulity to her sisters' lies by refusing to tell him the truth. But, in the first place, she b considerately careful and tender of him; and it b a part of her religion not to feed hb dotage with the intoxications for which he has such a morbid craving. She understands thoroughly both hb fretful waywardness and their artful hypocrisy ; and when she sees how he drinks in the sweetened pobon of their speech, she calmly resolves to hazard the worst, rather than wrong her own truth to cosset his disease. Thus her answer pro- ceeds, in part, from a deliberate purpose of love, not to compete with them in the utterance of pleasing fabehoods.
In the second place, it b against the original grain of her nature to talk much about what she feeb, and what she intends. Where her feelings are deepest, there her tongue b stillest. She ' cannot heave her heart into her mouth,' for the simple reason that she has so much of it. And there b a virgin delicacy in genuine and deep feeling, that causes it to keep in the background of the life; to be heard rather
HUDSON 435
in its effects than in direct and open declarations. They love but little who can tell how much they love, or who are fond of prating about it. To be staling itself with verbal protestations seems a kind of sacrilege and profanation. Thus love is apt to be tongue-tied ; and its best eloquence is when it disables speech, and when, from very shame of being seen, it just blushes itself into sight. Such is the beautiful instinct of true feeling to embody itself sweetly and silently in deeds, lest from showing itself in words it should turn to matter of pride and conceit. For a sentimental cox- combry is the natural issue of a cold and hollow heart.
It is not strange, therefore, that Cordelia should make it her part to < love and be silent.' Yet she is in no sort a pulpy structure, or one whom it b prudent to trifle with, where her forces are unrestrained by awe of duty : she has, indeed, a delect- able smack of her father's quality; as appears in that glorious flash of womanhood, when she so promptly switches off her higgling suitors
' Peace be with Buifuady I Since that reipectt of fortune are his love, I tbell not be his wife.
What I have said of Cordelia's affection holds true of her character generally. For she has the same deep, quiet reserve of thought as of feeling; so that her mind becomes conspicuous by its retiringness, and 4raws the attention by shrinking from it Though die nowhere says anything indicating much intelligence, yet she always strikes us, somehow, as being very intelligent; and even the more so, that her intel- ligence makes no special report of itself. It is as if she knew too much to show her knowledge. For the strongest intellects are by no means the most demonstrative; often they are the least so. And indeed what Cordelia knows is so bound up with her affections, that she cannot draw it off into expression by itself: it is held in per- fect solution, so to speak, with the other elements of her nature, and nowhere falls down in a sediment, so as to be producible in a separate state. She has a deeper and truer knowledge of her sisters than any one else about them; but she knows them by heart rather than by head; and so can feel and etct^ but not artiaUati, a prophecy of what they will do. Ask her, indeed, what she thinks on any subject, and her answer will be that she thinks,— nay, she cannot ////, she can only show you what she thinks. For her thinking involuntarily shapes itself into life, not into speech. . . •
Therefore it is that Cordelia affects us so deeply and so constantly without our being able to perceive how or why. And she affects ^ose about her in the same insensible way; that is, she keeps their thoughts and feelings busy, by keeping her own hidden beneath what she does : an influence goes forth from her by stadth, and stealthily creeps into them ; an influence which does not appear, and yet is irresist- ible, and irresistible even because it does not appear; and which becomes an under- current in their minds, circulates in their blood, as it were, and enriches their life with a beauty that seems their own, and yet is not their own : so that she steals upon us through them ; and we think of her the more because they, without suspecting it.
remind us of her.
' Fowen there are, Tbat toach each other to the quick In modes Which the (ims world no tense hath to perceive^ No toul to drcem oC'
No one can see Cordelia, and be the same he was before, thoogh unconscious the while of taking anything from her. It is as if she secretly deposited about his person some mysterious, divine aroma which, when he is remote from her and not
436 APPENDIX
thinking of her, keeps giving Out its perfume^ and testifying, though he knows it not, that he has been with her.
Accordingly, her father lores her most, yet knows not why; has no conscions reasons for the preference, and therefore cannot reason it away. Having cast her off from his bounty, but not out of his heart, he grows full of unrest, as if there were some secret power about her, like magic, which he cannot live without, though he did not dream of its existence when she was with him. And *nnce her going into France the Fool has much pined away'; as though her presence were necessary to his health : so that he sickens upon the loss of her, yet suspects not wherefore, and knows but that she was by and his spirits were nimble, she is gone and his spirits are drooping. • . •
Finally, I know of nothing with which to compare Cordelia, nothing to illustrate her character by. An impersonation of the holiness of womanhood, heiself alone is her own parallel; and all the objects that lend beauty, when used to illustrate other things, seem dumb or ineloquent of meaning beside her. Superior, perhaps, to all the rest of Shakespeare's women in beauty of character, she is, nevertheless, second to none of them as a living and breathing reality. We see her only in the relation of daughter, and hardly see her even there ; yet we know what she is, or would be, in every relation of life, just as well as if we had seen her in them all. * Formed for
* all sympathies, moved by all tenderness, prompt for all duty, prepared for all suffer
* ing,' we seem almost to hear her sighs and feel her breath as she hangs, like a min- istering spirit, over her reviving father: the vision sinks sweetly and quietly into the heart, and, in its reality to our feelings, abides with us more as a remembrance than an imagination, instructing and inspiring us as that of a friend whom we had known and loved in our youth. • . •
There is a strange assemblage of qualities in the Fool, and a strange effect arising from their union and position, which I am not a little at a loss how to describe. It seems hardly possible that Lear's character should be properly developed without him; indeed, he serves as a common gauge and exponent of all the characters about him, — the mirror in which their finest and deepest lineaments are reflected. Though a privileged person, with the largest opportunity of seeing, and the largest liberty of speaking, he everywhere turns his privileges into charities, making the immunities of the clown subservient to the noblest sympathies of the man. He is, therefore, by no means a mere harlequinian appendage of the scene, but moves in vital intercourse with the character and passion of the drama. He makes his folly the vehicle of truths which the king will bear in no other shape, while his affectionate tenderness sanctifies all his nonsense. His being heralded by the announcement of his pining away at the banishment of Cordelia sends a consecration before him; that his spirit feeds on her presence hallows everything about him. Lear manifestly loves him, partly for his own sake, and partly for hers, for we feel a delicate, scarce-discernible play of sympathy between them on Cordelia's account; the more so, perhaps, that neither of them makes any explicit allusion to her; their very reserve concerning her indicating that their hearts are too full to speak.
I know not, therefore, how I can better describe the Fool than as the soul of pathos in a sort of comic masquerade ; one in whom fun and frolic are sublimed and idealized into tragic beauty; with the garments of mourning showing through and softened by the lawn of playfulness. His < labouring to outjest Lear's heart-struck injuries' tells US that his wits are set a-dancing by grief; that his jests bubble up from the depths of a heart struggling with pity and sorrow, as foam enwreathes the face of deeply*
HUDSON. 437
troubled waters. So have I seen the lip quiver, and the cheek dimple into a smile* to relieve the eye of a burden it was reeling under, yet ashamed to let fall. There is all along a shrinking, velvet-footed delicacy of step in the Fool's antics, as if awed by the holiness of the ground ; and he seems bringing diversion to the thoughts, that he may the better steal a sense of woe into the heart. And I am not clear whether the inspired antics that sparkH from the surface of his mind are in more impressive contrast with the dark tragic scenes into which they are thrown, like rodcets into a midnight tempest, or with the undercurrent of deep tragic thoughtful- ness out of which they falteringly issue and play.
Our estimate of this drama, as a whole, depends very much on the view we take of the Fool ; that is, on how we interpret his part, or in what sense we understand it. Superficially considered, his presence and action can hardly seem other than a blemish in the work and a hindrance to its proper interest. Accordingly, he has been greatly misunderstood, indeed totally misconstrued, by many of the Poef s critics. And it must be confessed, that the true meaning of his part is somewhat difficult to seize; in fact, is not to be seized at all, unless one get just the right point of view. He has no sufferings of his own to move us, yet, rightly seen, he does move us, and deeply too. But the process of his interest is vexy peculiar and recondite. The most noteworthy point in him, and the real key to his character, lies in that, while his heart is slowly breaking, he never speaks, ncr even appears so much as to think, of his own suffering. He seems, indeed, quite unconscious of it. His anguish is purely the anguish of sympathy; a sympathy so deep and intense as to induce abso- lute forgetfulness of self; all Us capacities of feeling being perfectly engrossed with the sufferings of those whom he loves. He withdraws from the scene with the words, « And I'll go to bed at noon,' which means simply that the dear fellow is dying, and this, too, purely of others' sorrows, which he feels more keenly than they do themselves. She who was the light of his eyes is gone, dowered with her father's curse and strangered with his oath ; Kent and Edgar have vanished from his recog- nition, he knows not whither, the victims of wrong and crime; the wicked seem to be having all things their own way; the elements have joined their persecutions to the cruelties of men ; there is no pity in the Heavens, no he]p from the earth ; he sees nothing but a * world's convention of agonies' before him; and his straining of mind to play assuagement upon others' woes has fairly breached the citadel of his life. But the deepest grief of all has now overtaken him ; his old master's wits are all shattered in pieces ; to prevent this, he has all along been toiling his forces to the utmost ; and, now that it has come in spite of him, he no longer has anything to live for : yet he must still mask his passion in a characteristic disguise, and breathe out his life in a play of thought. I know not whether it may be rightly said of this hero in motley, that he
'hopes, tin Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates/
Need it be said that such ideas of human character could grow only where the light of Christianity shines? The Poet's conceptions of virtue and goodness, as worked out in this drama, are thoroughly of the Christian type,— steeped, indeed, in the efficacy of the Christian Ideal. The old Roman conception of human goodness, as is well known, placed it in courage, patriotism, honesty, and justice,— very high and noble indeed; whereas, the proper constituents of the Christian Ideal are, besides these, and higher than these, mercy, philanthropy, self-sacrifice, forgiveness of in* 37*
438 APPENDIX
juries, and loving of enemies. It is in this sense that Shakespeare gives us the best expressions of the Christian Ideal that are to be met with in poetry and art. I am really unable to say what divines may have interpreted more truly, or more inspir- ingly, the moral sense, the ethos of our religion. [I cannot refrain from here record- ing my thorough admiration for Mr Hudson's aesthetic criticisms. No Shakespeare- student can afford to overlook them. — Ed.]
ACTORS
CoLUSR [Eng, Dram. Poetry^ iii, 274, second ed. 1879) * 1*0 the list of characters in plays by Shakespeare sustained by Burbage, we have still to add Lear and Shylock, 80 that we may safely decide that he was the chosen representative of all, or nearly all, the serious parts in the productions of our great dramatist. . . . How far the knowledge, on the part of Shakespeare, that he had a performer at his service, on whom he could always rely, may have tended to the perfection of some of the great works he has left as, is matter of interesting speculation. . . • [In a list of the parts which ' we now know Burbage represented,' and ' the dates at which we have rea- ' son to believe they were brought upon the stage,' Collier gives < Lear 1605.' On p. 299 of this same volume, Collier gives an ' Elegy upon Burbage, which was copied ' many years ago from a manuscript in the possession of the late Mr Heber.' The lines referring to Lear are as follows] :
' Thy suture small, but every thought and mood Might thoroughly from thy face be understood; And his whole action he could change with ease From ancient Lear to youthful Pericles.'
[Another version of this Elegy, or rather an extract from another Elegy, b given in INGLEBY'S Ctnturie of Prayse (p. 131, second ed. 1879), which contains the foU lowing :
' no more young Hamlett, ould Hetronymoe kind Leer, the Greued Moore, and more beside, that liued in him : haue now for euer dy'de.' &c.
The next actor of Lear, of any note, was probably Betterton. Dowkes, in his Poscitu AngluanuSt in a list of the plays acted between 1662 and 1665, E^^^ '^^
* Tragedy of King Lear as Mr Shakcspear wrote it before it was altered by Mr Tate. When afterwards Downes mentions Lear, as acted in 1671 or 1672, *as Mr Shake-
* spear wrote it,' Davies, in a foot-note, says, < there can be no doubt that Betterton
* acted the part of Lear,' and that probably * Nokes acted the Fool.' Twenty years after this, we find Betterton still acting it. but in Tate's version. The next great actor was Garrxck.]
GARRICK 439
GARRICK
MuRPHT {Lift o/Garrick^ i, 27) : [When] Garrick undertook the difficult character of King Lear, he was transformed into a feeble old man, still retaining an air of royalty. QuiN, at the time, was admired in that character, but to express a quick succession of passions was not his talent. Barry, some years af^er, ventured to tiy his strength in ihWbow of Uiysses^ and certainly, with a most harmonious and pathetic voice, was able to affect the heart in several passages, but he could not, with propriety, repre- sent the old king out of his senses. He started, took long and hasty steps, stared about him in a vague, wild manner, and his voice was, by no means, in unison with the sentiment. It was in Lear's madness that Gorrick's genius was remarkably di»> tinguished. He had no sudden starts, no violent gesticulation; his movements were slow and feeble ; misery was depicted in his countenance; he moved his head in the most deliberate manner; his eyes were fixed, or, if they turned to any one near him» he made a pause, and fixed his look on the person after much delay ; his features, at the same time, telling what he was going to say before he uttered a word. During the whole time he presented a sight of woe and miseiy, and a total alienation of mind from every idea but that of his unkind daughtexs. He was used to tell how he acquired the hints that guided him when he began to study this great and difficult part; he was acquainted with a worthy man, who liyed in Leman Street, Goodman's Fields ; this friend had an only daughter about two years old ; he stood at his dining- room window, fondling the child, and dangling it in his arms, when it was his mis- fortune to drop the infant into a flagged area, and killed it on the spot. He remained ot his window screaming in agonies of grief. The neighbours flocked to the house, took up the child, and delivered it dead to the unhappy father, who wept bitterly, and filled the street with lamentations. He lost his senses, and from that moment never recovered his understanding. As he had a sufficient fortune, his friends chose to let him remain in his house, under two keepers appointed by Dr Munro. Garrick frequently went to see his distracted friend, who passed the remainder of his life in going to the window, and there playing in fancy with his child. After some dalliance he dropped it, and, bursting into a flood of tears, filled the house with shrieks of grief and bitter anguish. He then sat down, in a pensive mood, his eyes fixed on one object, at times looking slowly round him, as if to implore compassion. Garrick was often present at this scene of misery, and was ever after used to say, that it gave him the first idea of King Lear's madness. This writer has often seen him rise in Company to give a representation of this unfortunate father. He leaned on the back of a chair, seeming with parental fondness to play with a child, and, after expressing the most heartfelt delight, he suddenly dropped the infant, and instantly broke out in a most violent agony of grief, so tender, so afiecting, and pathetic that eveiy eye in the company was moistened with a gush of tears. ' There it was,' said Garrick, ' that I learned to imitate madness; I copied nature, and to that owed my success in
* King Lear.' It is wonderful to tell, that he descended from that first character in tragedy to the part of Abel Drugger; he represented the tobacco-boy in the truest comic style; no grimace, no starting, no wild gesticulation. He seemed to be a new man. Hogarth, the famous painter, saw him in Richard HI, and on the following night in Abel Drugger ; he was so struck that he said to Garrick, * You are in your
* element when you are begrimed with dirt or up to your elbows in blood.'
440 APPENDIX
KEAN
R. H. Dana ( The Idle Manf p. 35, New York, 1821) : A man has feelings some- times which can only be breathed out, — ^there is no utterance for them in words. I had hardly written this, when the terrible and indistinct ' Ha ! * with which Mr Kean makes Lear hail Cornwall and Regan, as they enter, in the fourth scene of the Second Act, came to my mind. It seemed at the time to take me up and sweep me along in its wild swell. No description in the world could give a very clear notion of the sound. It must be formed as well as it may be, from what has just been said of its effect. . . •
It has been so common a saying, that Lear is the most difficult of all characters to personate, that we had taken it for granted no man could play it so as to satisfy us. Perhaps it b the hardest to represent. Yet the part which we have supposed the most dilGcuIt, the insanity of Lear, is scarcely more so than the choleric old king. Inefficient rage is almost always ridiculous ; and an old man, with a broken-down body, and a mind falling in pieces from the violence of its uncontrolled passions, is in constant danger of exciting our contempt along with our pity. It is a chance matter which we are moved to. And this it is which makes the opening of Leer so difficult.
In most instances, Shakspeare has given us the gradual growth of a passion, with all such little accompaniments as agree with it, and go to make up the whole man. In Lear, his object being to represent the beginning and course of insanity, he has properly enough gone a little back of it, and introdi!^ced us to an old man of good feelings, but who had lived without any true principle of conduct, whose ungovemed passions had grown strong with age, and were ready upon any disappointment to make shipwreck of an intellect always weak. To bring this about, he begins with an abruptness rather unusual, and the old king rushes in before us, as it were, with idl his passions at their height, tearing him like fiends.
Mr Kean gives this as soon as a fit occasion offers itself. Had he put more of melancholy and depression, and less of rage, into the character, we should have been very much puzzled at his so suddenly going mad. The change must have been slower; and, besides, his insanity must have been of another kind. It must have been monotonous and complaining, instead of continually varying ; at one time full of grief, at another playful, and then wild as the winds that roared about him, and fiery and sharp as the lightning that shot by him. The truth with which he conceived this was not finer than his execution of it. Not for an instant, in his utmost violence, did he suffer the imbecility of the old man's anger to touch upon the ludicrous; when nothing but the most just conception and feeling of the character could have saved him from it.
It has been said that Lear was a study for any one who would make himself acquainted with the workings of an insane mind. There is no doubt of it. And it is not less true that Mr Kean was as perfect an exemplification of it His eye, when his senses are first forsaking him, giving a questioning look at what he saw, as if all before him was undergoing a strange and bewildering change which confused his brain — ^the wandering, lost motions of-his hands, which seemed feeling for something familiar to them, on which they might take hold, and be assured of a safe reality— «
• * When a number of a periodical published by the poet Dana, called 7X# tdlt Man, was put Into his [Kean's] hands, he read an analysis of his acdng which it contained with the greatest attea* tion, and at the dose said, with evident gratification : ' This writer understands me ; he is a philo* lophical man. I shall take his work across the water.'— Hawkins's Lif* qfKtan, ii, x68.— JSo.
KEAN 441
the nnder monotone of his voice, as if he was queslionin|]r his own being, and aO which surrounded him— the oontinaous, but slight oscillating motion of the body,— all expressed, with fearful truth, the dreamy state of a mind fast unsettling, and making vain and weak efforts to find its way back to its wonted reason. There was a childish, feeble gladness in the eye, and a half-piteous smile about the mouth at times, which one could scarce look upon without shedding tears. As the derange- ment increased upon him, his eye lost its notice of what surrounded him, wandering over everything as if he saw it not, and fastening upon the creatures of his crazed brain. The helpless and delighted fondness with which he clings to Edgar as an insane brother is another instance of the justness of Mr Kean*s conceptions. Nor does he lose the air of insanity even in the fine moralizing parts, and where he Inveighs against the corruptions of the world. There is a madness even in his reasoiL
The violent and immediate changes of the passions in Lear, so hard to manage without offending us, are given by Mr Kean with a spirit and fitness to nature which we had not imagined possible. These are equally well done both before and after he loses his reason. The most difficult scene in this respect is the last interview between Lear and his daughteis, Goneril and Regan — (and how wonderfully does Mr Kean carry it through 1) — the scene which ends with the horrid shout and ciy with which he runs out mad from their presence, as if his very brain was on fire.
The last scene which we are allowed to have of Shakspeare*s Lear, for the sim- ply pathetic, was played by Mr Kean with unmatched power. We sink down helpless nnder the oppressive grief. It lies like a dead weight upon our bosoms. We are de- nied even the relief of tears ; and are thankful for the startling shudder that seizes lis when he kneels to his daughter in the deploring weakness of his crazed grief.
Mr Kean is never behind his author; but stands forward the living representative of the character he has drawn. When he plays out of Shakspeare, he fills up where his author is wanting, and when in Shakspeare, he gives not only what is set down, but all that the situation and circumstances attendant upon the being he personates, could possibly call forth. He seems at the time to have possessed himself of Shakspeare*s imagination, and to have given it body and form. Read any scene of Shakspeare— for instance, the last of Ltar that is played, and see how few words are there set down, and then remember how Kean fills it out with varied and mul- tiplied expressions and circumstances, and the truth of this remark will be too obvious for any one to deny. There are few men living, I believe, let them have studied Shakspeare ever so attentively, who can say that Mr Kean has not helped them as much to a true conception of him, as their own labour had done for them before.
Hawkins {Life ofXlean^ ii, 116): The death of George III. [in 1820I removed the iabco constituted by the applicability of Xing Lear to the mental derangement which clouded the latter days of that firm, just, and equitable prince, and the tragedy was forthwith put in rehearsal both at Covent-garden and Drury-lane theatres. At the former an excellent cast was provided, Lear being assigned to Booth, Edmtmd to Macready, and Edgar to Charles Kemble. ... He [Kean] ordered King Lear to be announced for the 24th of April. He assigned the Earl of Kent to Dowton, Edgar to Rae, and Cordelia to Mis West. During his absence from the metropolis, his private rehearsals of the character had been almost unintermittent; and, as an illustration of his painstaking care, it may be recorded that on one occasion he acted scene after
442 APPENDIX
scene before the pier-glass from midnight to noonday. Since his first appearance at Dniry Lane he had never lost an opportunity of improving his attainment in Lear; so anxious was he to impart truth and natural colouring to his performance that, in order to observe the details and manifestations of real insanity, he constantly visited St. Luke's and Bethlehem hospitals ere he appeared in the old king ; and, tranquilly relying upon the unfailing fertility of his intellectual resources, he anticipated this effort as the last seal of his theatrical renown. . • . He knew that, when he came to the trial, his mind would be thoroughly Imbued with the properties of the character , . • and, fearless as to the result, he quietly said 'that he would make the audience
* as mad as he himself should be.' • • . The expectation excited by the announcement on the Covent-garden bills was doomed to be but partially realized, inasmuch as a just interpretation of -the character continued, as far as Booth was concerned, to re- main a desideratum to the stage. In Lear his talents were buried. . . . George Fred* erick Cooke, unapproachable in his day as lago and Richard, overrated his powers when he thought he could play Lear. ... On the 24th of April [1820] Kean appeared in the character of Lear for the first time. . . . Bannister adjudged it superior to Gar« rick's; an enthusiastic admirer of Kemble allowed that it surpassed the fine delinea* tion given by his idol. . . . Who that once heard can ever forget the terrors of that terrific curse, where, in the wild storm of his conflicting passion, he threw himself on his knees, 'lifted up his arms, like withered stumps, threw his head quite back
* and, in that position, as if severed from all that held him to society, breathed a
* heart-struck prayer, like the figure of a man obtruncated ? '
[A criticism on this performance appeared in Blackwood^ i Afogatine, from which the following extracts are taken :] ' In the first scene there was nothing to call for very particular notice. There was no approach to mock dignity, yet nothing like a want of the real, but a perfect propriety of conception and demeanour throughout. The rebuke to Cordelia, and the sudden change of his intentions towards her in consequence of her apparent coldness, were the evident results, not of the violated affections of a father, but the wounded pride of a king, accustomed throughout a long life to believe that his wishes and his will are essentially entitled to bear sway in all things. When he exclaims, < So be my grave my peace, as here I give My ' heart from her,' &c., it is not the outraged parent cut off for ever from the undu- tiful child, but the ' choleric king,' pettishly spuming the control of reason and of right, because he had not been used to listen to them. And it was the same in the expression of his anger against the interference of Kent. It was not the real indig- nation resulting from violated confidence, but the conventional appearance of it in the vindication of affronted majesty.
' After this follows the scene with Goneril and Albany, in which he observes that they purposely slight him. Here the pride of the insulted monarch begins to give way before the rage and agony of the outraged father; or, rather, the two cha- racters, with the feelings attendant upon them, are blending together in the most extraordinary and impressive manner. The fearful curse at the close of this scene vas given with tremendous force. It seemed to be screwed out of the bodily frame as if by some mechanical power set in motion by means independent of the will, and at the end the over-excited and exhausted frame, sinking beneath the supernatural exertion, seemed to crack and give way altogether.
* The next scene is the finish of the whole performance, and certainly it is the noblest execution of lofty genius that the modem stage has witnessed, — always ex- cepting the same actor's closing scene in the Third Act of Othello, It is impossible
KEAN 443
for words to convey anything like an adequate description of the extraordinary act- ing in the whole of this scene— of the electrical effect produced from the transition from < Bid 'em come forth and hear me,' &c to ' O ! are yon come ? '—the mingled suspicion and tenderness with which he tells Regan of Goneril's treatment of him ; the exquisite tone of pathos thrown into the mock petition to Regan, * I confess that ' I am old,' &c ; the wonderful depth and nobility of expression given to the ironical speech to Goneril,*! did not bid the thunder-bearer strike/ &c.; the pure, and touch- ing simplicity of * I gave you all ' ; and lastly, the splendid dose of this scene with the speech, * Heavens, drop your patience down,' &c, in which the bitter delight of anticipated revenge, and the unbending sense of habitual dignity, contend against the throes and agonies of a torn and bursting heart.
' Of the Third Act, containing the scenes with Kent and Edgar during the storm, we must speak more generally. There may probacy be some difference of opinion as to the manner in which these scenes were given, but, to our thinking, Mr Kean never evinced more admirable judgement than in choosing what appears to us to have been the only practicable course which the nature of his subject left him. The Lear of Shakespeare^— «t least this part of it, — ^requires to be made intelligible to the senses through the medium of the imagination. The gradual, and at last total, breaking of the waters from the mighty deep of the human heart which takes place during these scenes would be intolerable in all the bareness, and with all the force, of reality. If it were possible to exhibit the actual Lear of Shakespeare on the stage, the performance must be forbidden by law. We really believe Mr Kean felt something of this kind, and studied and performed these scenes accordingly. He did not give 9k portrait^ but a ihadcw of them. They came upon us in their different aspects, not as animated images of Lear, but as dreamlike recollections of him. Not 80 the scenes which remain to be spoken of, viz : the mad scene in the Fourth Act, and that in which jie recovers his senses and recognizes his daughter Cordelia, in the Filth. These were as true to nature and to Shakespeare as the most exquisite delicacy of conception, consummate judgement and taste, and an entire command over the springs of passion and pathos, could make them. In particular, the short scene where Lear wakes from slumber and recognizes Cordelia was beautiful in the highest de- gree. The mild pathos of his voice, and the touching ^implidty of his manner, when he kneels down before her and offers to drink poison if she has it for him, can never be forgotten. In speaking of what is (nOher coaisdy) called the mad scene, we ne« glected to note the noble burst of dignified energy with which Lear exclaimed, < Ay, * evtry inch a king,' and also the action all through the scene. His hands were as wandering and as unsettled as his senses, and as little under the control of habit or will. This was a very delicate touch of nature, and perfectly original. . • •
* The only plausible objection that has been or that can be made to any part of this performance is, that in the mad scenes there is too little vehemence and variety. But this objection is made by persons who forget that Lear was a very foolish, fond old man, fourscore and upwards; and the profound knowledge of human life, and the piercing glance into the human heart, which he exhibited in these scenes, might be supposed to have come to him,— as they came to Shakespeare himself,— not by observation and sentiment, but by something which ordinary mortals can conceive of as nothing less than a spedes of direct inspiration,— «ome mysterious influence totally independent of the immediate state of the actual feelings and faculties^— and that therefore they would be likely to be dealt forth^ not amidst the throes and agonies of the priestess delivering the sacred orades from the tripod* but with the calm and
444 APPENDIX
collected fervour of the priest who was appointed to reptat those oracles to the people.'
(Hawkins's Life^ ii, p. 212.) — Acting upon his own fine notion of the pencil and genius of Shakespeare, and stimulated by Hazlitt's remonstrances and Charles Lamb's Essays, Kean now [1823] determined to restore the previously rejected text of King Z/tfr to the Fifth Act, thereby saving the audience from the unnatural and impossible recovery of the old king, and the consummation of the mawkish and improbable loves of Edgar and Cordelia. ' That,' said he on one occasion to his wife, during their residence at Bute in the previous summer, indicating with his finger the last scene in Lear^ ' is the sacred page I am yet to expound.' The delight with which the intellectual world hailed this judicious restoration was great and unequivocal. . . . Considerable disappointment was felt when it was found that the return to originality did not extend to the removal of the inconsbtent love-scenes which deface the daugh- terly excellence of Cordelia, together with the despicable trash of poetical justice introduced by Tate in justification of his absurd alterations ; but the original catas- trophe, as written by Shakespeare, afforded Kean an opportunity of making what proved in his hands to be one of the most powerful appeals to the heart of which the stage has ever boasted* < The London audience have no notion of what I can do * until they see me over the dead body of Cordelia.* That had been his invariable exclamation whenever it was contended that nothing could be more sublime, more grand, more impressive than his Othello; and there hd knelt, the cherished hope of years converted into reality at last, a dense and overflowing audience hanging with breathless attention on every word that fbll from his lips, and many and many a tearful eye bearing testimony to the power with which he delineated the agonies of a broken heart. No language can do justice to his excellence. There was no rant, no violence of action ; all was characteristic only of the child-changed father. Stu pefied with grief and years, he was dead to all but the corpse before him ; and t6 this the last glimmerings of sense and feeling were directed. His first intent gaze upon the dead — his childish yet earnest action in watching for the motion of the feather which should denote that the vital spark still smouldered — his involuntary clasping of her hands, — ^his address to her in the very dotage of despair, — ^his familiar yet pathetic exclamation, « Oh, thou wilt come no more, never, never,' as if he had caught up some household words and fitted them to the sad emergency — his last pointing to her lips with his finger trembling in death ;— description b set at defiance.
DEVRIENT
ULRia {Sh, yakrhueh^ 1867) : Louis Devrxent was, in the estimation of the great public, as well as in that of the critics, one of the most distinguished representatives of Shakespeare on the stage in recent times, not indeed in all the leading characters of the Poety^he lacked the physical strength and stature for Macbeth, Othello, and Coriolanus,— but Lear, Richard HI, Mercutio, lago, Hubert, Shylock, FalstafT, he played to the end of his professional career. I well recollect here on the Berlin stage, and also at a later period, his spare figure of ordinary height, his intellectual countenance, his sharp-pointed, aquiline nose, his finely-cut mouth, his large, fiery eyes, his peculiar flexibility of body, his long, lean hands, so full of expression. His hands and his powerful eyes, joined with the play of his features, were almost his only means of representation. He could not produce any effect by attitudinizing, for there was nothing imposing in his personal presence \ neither did his power lie in
DEVRIENT 445
vocal force ani fulness, for there was no melodious ring in his voice; although capable of manifold modulation, it was, rather, somewhat sharp, and apt to pass into a cutting, shrieking tone; and violent movements of his body or limbs he never used, when they were not absolutely necessazy^-Honindful, doubtless, of Hamlet's rule to the players. Thus there were left to him only those organs of the body which stand in closest relation to the soul. Hence his acting was at once a sublima* tion of physical expression and an incarnation of the spiritual ; it was upon this ascendency of the power -and authority of the spiritual over the sensuous appearance that the peculiar charm of his artistic productions especially rested.
One of his most distinguished parts was the representation of Lear, — a part in which, as in no other part, the heaviest weight of tragic suffering stands opposed to the smallest measure of action and power of endurance, a part in which all depends upon giving full expression to this deep, agonizing suffering by which the king is crushed. I mention this part in particular because a comparison of Devrient's acting with that of other celebrated actors affords me an opportunity of offering some remarks upon the much-criticised first scene of the first Act, — the exposition of the piece. As well as I can remember, in his appearance in this scene Devrient shows no trace of sadness, of ill-humor, or of a rough, despotic demeanor ; with the expres* sion of kingly dignity there was united rather, one of gentleness, contented and serene. Indeed the character of the king must have had, originally, a happy element, a fond« ness for jesting and merriment; his relation to the Fool, whom he evidently loved almost as much as the Fool loved him. In this temper, glad to be able to relieve himself of the burthen of the government, with no foreboding of the fearful future^ he sets himself to execute the act, which is to prove so calamitous to him. The determination to abdicate and divide his kingdom among his daughters, he had come to some time before, which plainly appears from the words with which the piece opens, and to which Shakespeare certainly did not give so significant a place at the very beginning of the whole without design. • • .
Devrient's acting in the scenes of Lear's madness presented no unnatural or exag* gerated motions ; he acted those scenes almost wholly with his eyes, supporting tho expression of his looks only by a corresponding play of feature and by a singa* larly significant motion of his fingeis and hands. That by such simple means ho produced such a powerful effect, he^ owed altogether to the fact that by nature he possessed large, full eyes. To any one not possessed of this gift, it would be diffi- cult, if not impossible, to produce like striking, effects. But it only follows that one, not thus gifted, must either renounce the acting of Lear« or content himself with a less effect: together with the mad scenes, the part offers places enough to attest the mastery of the artist; and when that is apparent, it will not fail to command the approval and applause of the public. At all events, let no artist, who desires to deserve the name, permit himself ever to speculate upon the ignorance of the pnbliCi and aim, by a false representation, at effects which the nature of the subject and hi& own personality deny to him. This principle is the more strictly to be held to, the more nigently our realistic age insists upon nature and the truth of natoie, and demands of the artist that he shall banish all idealistic elements from his acting. For bare nature is only artistic when it appears in dear, nnsophtsticated truth, because the kernel of truth bean at the tame time the germ, although only the germ, of beaii^.
44^ APPENDIX
COSTUME
Sir Walizr Scott [Quarterly Retfuw, April, 1826) : Before Kemble's time there was no such thing as regular costume observed in our theatres. The actors repre* sented Macbeth and his wife, Belvidera and Jaffier, and most other parts, whatever the age or country in which the scene was laid, in the cast-off court dresses of the nobility. Kemble used to say, that the modem dresses of the charactexs in the well- known print of a certain dramatic dagger-scene, made them resemble the butler and housekeeper struggling for the carving-knife. Some few characten, by a sort of pre- scriptive theatrical right, always retained the costume of their times — Falstaff, for example, and Richard III. But such exceptions only rendered the general appear- ance more anomalous. We have seen yam Shore acted, with Richard in the old English cloak. Lord Hastings in a full court dress, with his white rod like a Lord Chamberlain of the last reign, and Jane Shore and Alicia in stays and hoops. We have seen Miss Young act Zara incased in whalebone, to an Osman dressed properly enough as a Turk, while Nerestan, a Christian knight in the time of the Crusades, strutted in the white uniform of the old French guards. These incongruities were perhaps owing to the court of Charles II. adopting, after the Restoration, the French regulation that players, being considered as in the presence of their sovereign, should wear the dress of the court drawing-room, while in certain parts the old English custom was still retained, which preserved some attempt at dressing in character. Kemble reformed all these anachronisms, and prosecuted with great earnestness a plan of reforming the wardrobe of the stage, collecting with indefatigable diligence from illuminated manuscripts, ancient pictures, and other satisfactory authorities, whatever could be gleaned of ancient costume worthy of being adopted on the theatre. Rigid and pedantic adherence to the dresses of every age was not pos^ble or to be wished for. In the time when Lear is supposed to have lived, the British were probably painted and tattooed, and, to be perfectly accurate, Edgar ought to have stripped his shoulders bare before he assumed- the character of Poor Tom. Hamlet, too, if the Amlethus of the Saxo Grammaticus, should have worn a bear- skin instead of his inky suit; and, whatever Macbeth's garb should have been, of course a philabeg could have formed no part thereof. But, as the poet, carrying back his scene into remote days, retains still, to a certain extent, the manners and sentiments of his own period, so it is sufficient for the purpose of costume if every- thing be avoided which can recall modem associations, and as much of the antique be assumed as yi\\\ at once harmonize with the purpose of the exhibition, and in so far awaken recollections of the days of yore as to give an air of trath to the scene. Every theatrical reader must recollect the additional force which Macklin gave to the Jew at his first appearance in that character, when he came on the stage dressed with hb red hat, peaked beard, and loose black gown, a dress which excited Pope's curiosity, who desired to know in particular why he wore a red hat. Macklin re- plied modestly, because he had read that the Jews in Venice were obliged to wear hats of that colour. ' And pray, Mr Macklin,' said Pope, ' do players in general
* take such pains ? ' < I do not know, sir,' said Macklin, < that they do, but, as I had
* staked my reputation on the character, I was determined to spare no trouble in
* getting at the best information.' Pope expressed himself much pleased.
COSTUME 447
Dnnng his whole life Kemble was intent en improving, by all means which oc- cnrred, the accuracy of the dresses he wore while in character. Macbeth was one of the first plays in which the better system of costume was adopted, and he wore the Highland dress, as old Macklin had done before him. Many years afterwards he was delighted when, with our own critical hands, which have plucked many a plume besides, we divested his bonnet of sundry huge bunches of black feathers, which made it look like an undertaker's cushion, and replaced them with the single broad quill-feather of an eagle sloping across the noble brow ; he told us afterwards that the change was worth to him three distinct rounds of applause sis he came for- ward in this improved and more genuine head-gear.
With the subject of dress, modes of disposing and managing the scenes are nat* orally connected, and here also Kemble, jealous of the dignity of his art, called in the assistance of able artists, and improved in a most wonderful degree the appear* ance of the stage, and the general effect of the piece in representation. Yet, in our opinion, the Muse of Painting should be on the stage the hand-maid, not the rival, of her sisters of the drama. Each art should retain its due predominance within its own proper region. Let the scenery be as well painted, and made as impressive as a moderate-sized stage will afibrd; but, when the roof is raised to give the scene- painter room to pile Pelion upon Ossa, when the stage is widened that his forests may be extended, or deepened that his oceans may flow in space apparently in- terminable, the manager who commands these decorations is leaving his proper duty, and altering entirely the purpose of the stage. Meantime, as the dresses ought to be suited to the time and country, the landscape and architecture should be equally coherent. Means may besides be discovered, from time to time, tending to render the scenic deception more effective, and the introduction of such must be advan- tageous, provided always, that this part of theatrical business be kept in due subordi- tion to that which is strictly dramatic.
Verplanck: The tale of Lear and his < three daughters fair* belongs to the domain of old romance and popular tradition, and, told in poem, ballad, and many^ ruder ways, had become familiar to the English people. It belongs to that unreal ' but most potently believed history * whose heroes were the household names of Europe, — Saint George and his brother-champions. King Arthur and Charlemagne, Don Belliani, Roland and his brother-Paladins, and many others, for part of whom time has done, among those ' who speak the tongue that Shakespeare spoke,' what the burning of Don Quixote*s library was meant to do for the knight. . • . Now, who that is at all familiar with the long train of imaginary hbtory does not know that it all had its own customs and costume, as well defined as the heathen mythology or the Roman history ? All the personages wore the arms and habiliments, and obeyed the ceremonials, of mediaeval chivalry, very probably because these several tales were put into legendary or poetic form in those days ; but whatever was the reason, it was in that garb alone that they formed the popular literature of Europe in Shakespeare's time. It was a costume well fitted for poetical purposes, familiar in its details ta popular understanding, yet so far beyond the habitual associations of readers as to have some tinge of antiquity ; while (as the admirers of Ariosto and Spenser well know) it was eminently brilliant and picturesque. Thus, whether, like Qiaucer, the poet laid his scene of Palamon and ArcUe in Pagan Athens, under Duke Theseus ; or described, with the nameless author of Morte d^ Arthur, the adventures of the Knights of the Round Table: or with Ariosto, those of the French Paladins; or
448 APPENDIX
whether some humbler anthor told in prose the tale of Saint George^ or the Severn Champions; the whole was clothed in the same costume, and the cooits and camps of Grecian emperors, British kings, Pagan or Turkish soldans, all pretty much resembled those of Charles of Burgundy, or Richard of England, as described by Froissart and his brethren.
To haye deviated from this easy, natural, and most convenient conventional cos* tame of fiction, half believed as history, for the sake of stripping off old Lear's civilized Mendings,' and bringing him to the unsophisticated state of a painted Pictish king, would have shocked the sense of probability in an audience in Eliza- beth's reign, as perhaps it would even now. The positive objective truth of history would appear far less probable than the received truth of poetry and romance, of the nursery and the stage. Accordingly, Shakespeare painted Lear and his times in the attire in which they were most familiar to the imagination of his audience. . . . Such is our theory. ... To the reader it clears away all anxiety about petty criticisms or anachronisms, and * such small deer,' while it presents the drama to his imagination in the most picturesque and poetical attire of which it is susceptible. The artist, too, may luxuriate at pleasure in his decorations, whether for the stage or for the canvas^ selecting all that he judges most appropriate to the feeling of his scene, from the treasures of the arts of the Middle Ages and the pomp and splendour of chivalry, without having before his eyes the dread of some critical antiquary to reprimand him, on the authority of Pugin or Meyrick, for encasing his knights in plate-armour, or erecting Lear's throne in a hall of Norman architecture, a thousand years or more before either Norman arch, or plate-armour, had been seen in England.
E. W. Godwin ( The Architecture and Costume of Shakespeare s Plays^ The Archi- tect, 28 Nov. 1874) : The early Celtic period, or a time at least from 100 to 400 years before Christ, is the time best fitted to the story of Lear. To that early time belongs a considerable proportion of the bronze implements in the British remains preserved in Great Russell Street The metals of that age were chiefly gold and bronze, although swords and daggers might possibly be of iron — a soft kind, easily bendable. Of the architecture of such a time it is hardly possible to say a word, for much the same reason that < the Spanish fleet could not be seen, because 'twas not in sight.' Stonehenge would appear to have been the limit of their powers in buildings both in design and execution ; their decoration consisted of dots and lines concentric, zigzag, or hatched; everything was planned upon the circle — the temple and the house or hut, the shield and the tore. Of the costume of such a remote time we know this much, that it was not of that abbreviated character that we were once asked to believe. From the discoveries of late years we learn that the early Celts (otherwise called Britons, Irish, Welsh) wore necklets (tores), armlets, bracelets, and brooches (or fibulae) ; that in warfare they carried circular shields, two-edged but pointless swords, spears, daggers, javelins, and arrows ; that (for the ladies possibly) they formed singularly delicate gorgets, or perhaps head-tires, of gold, and imported beads of amber and glass. The dresses were doubtless chiefly made of homespun wool, full and without any shaping other than that obtained by belt of gold or bronze. The dresses would be probably sleeveless and fastened by fibulae. The bronze swords were short, thirty-one inches, including handle, being an extreme size. The bronze circular shields vary in diameter from two feet, or thereabouts, to nine inches. In the centre is a conical boss about four or five inches high, and between this and the snaigin the space is relieved by circles of smaller bosses divided by concentric ridges.
A. W. SCHLEGEL 449
the whole being of beaten work or reptmssi. It is supposed that no helmets of an age prior to the Roman invasion have as yet been discovered in this comitiy; those few which have been found in Germany are of a plain conical fonn, quite neat enough for any practical purposes of the stage.
GERMAN CRITICISMS
A. W. SCHLEGEL
{Ledures en Dramatic Art, &c., 1808. Trans, by J. Black, ii, 204. London, 18 1 5.) — ^As terror in Macbeth reaches its utmost height, in Xing Lear the science of compassion is exhausted. The principal characters here are not those who act, but those who suffer. We have not in this, as in most tragedies, the picture of a calamity in which the sudden blows of fate seem still to honour the head whom they strike, in which the loss is always accompanied by some flattering consolation in the memory of the former possession; but a fall from the highest elevation into the deepest abyss of misery, where humanity is stripped of all external and internal advantages, and given up a prey to naked helplessness. The threefold dignity of a king, an old man, and a father is dishonoured by the cruel ingratitude of his unnatural daughters ; the old Lear, who, out of a foolish tenderness, has given away everything, is driven out to the world a wandering beggar; the childish imbecility to which he was fast advancing changes into the wildest insanity; and when he is saved from the dis* graceful destitution to which he was abandoned, it b too late : the kind consolations of filial care and attention and true friendship are now lost on him; hb bodily and mental powers are destroyed beyond all hope of recovery, and all that now remains to him of life is the capability of loving and suffering beyond measure. What a picture we have in the meeting of Lear and Edgar in a tempestuous night and in a wretched hovel 1 Edgar, a youth, by the wicked arts of his brother and his father's blindness, has fallen as low from the rank to which his birth entitled him, as Lear; and he is reduced to assume the disguise of a beggar tormented by evil spirits as the only means of escaping pursuit. The king's Fool, notwithstanding the voluntary degradation which is implied in his situation, is, after Kent, I.ear's most faithful associate, his wisest counsellor. This good-hearted Fool clothes reason with the livery of his motley garb ; the high-bom beggar acts the part of insanity; and both, were they even in reality what they seem, would still be enviable in comparison with the king, who feels that the violence of his grief threatens to overpower his reason. The meeting of Edgar with the blinded Gloster is equally heart-rending ; nothing can be more affecting than to see the ejected son become the father's guide, and the good angel, who, under the disguise of insanity, by an ingenious and pious firand, 38« 2D
450 APPENDIX
itaves him from the horror and despair of self-murder. But who can possibly ena« merate all the different combinations and situations by which our minds are stormed by the Poet ? I will only make one observation respecting the structure of the whole. The story of Lear and his daughters was left by Shakspeare exactly as he found it in a fabulous tradition, with all the features characteristical of the simplicity of old times. But in that tradition there is not the slightest trace of the story of Gloster and his sons, which was derived by Shakspeare from another source. The incorpo- ration of the two stories has been censured as destructive of the unity of action. But whatever contributes to the intrigue or the dtnouement must always possess unity.
And with what ingenuity and skill the two main parts of the composition are dove- tailed into one another! The pity felt by Gloster for the fate of Lear becomes the means which enables his son Edmund to effect his complete destruction, and affords the outcast Edgar an opportunity of being the saviour of his father. On the other hand, Edmund is active in the cause of Regan and Goneril, and the criminal passion which they both entertain for him induces them to execute justice on each other and on themselves. The laws of the drama have therefore been sufficiently complied with, but that is the least. It is the very combination which constitutes the sublime beauty of the work. The two cases resemble each other in the main : an infatuated father is blind towards his well-disposed child, and the unnatural offspring, to whom he gives the preference, requite him by the destruction of his entire happiness. But all the circumstances are so different that these stories, while they make an equal im- pression on the heart, form a complete contrast for the imagination. Were Lear alone to suffer from his daughters, the impression would be limited to the powerful compassion felt by us for his private misfortune.
But two such unheard-of examples taking place at the same time have the appear- ance of a great commotion in the moral world : the picture becomes gigantic, and fills us with such alarm as we should entertain at the idea that the heavenly bodies might one day fall out of their regular orbits. To save, in some degree, the honour of human nature, Shakspeare never wishes that his spectators should forget that the story takes place in a dreary and barbarous age; he lays particular stress on the circumstance that the. Britons of that day were still heathens, although he has not made all the remaining circumstances to coincide learnedly with the time which he has chosen. From this point of view we must judge of many coarsenesses in expression and manners; for instance, the immodest manner in which Gloster acknowledges his bastard, Kent^s quarrel with the Steward, and, more especially, the cruelty personally exercised on Gloster by the Duke of Cornwall. Even the virtue of the honest Kent bears the stamp of an iron age, in which the good and the bad display the same un- governable strength. Great qualities have not been superfluously assigned to the king; the Poet could command our sympathy for his situation without concealing what he had done to bring himself into it. Lear is choleric, overbearing, and almost childish from age, when he drives out his youngest daughter because she will not join in the hypocritical exaggerations of her sisters. But he has a warm and affec^ tionate heart, which is susceptible of the most fervent gratitude, and even rays of a high and kingly disposition burst forth from the eclipse of his understanding. Of the heavenly beauty of soul of Cordelia, pronounced in so few words, I will not ven- ture to speak; she can only be named along with Antigone. Her death has been thought too cruel ; and in England the piece is so far. altered in acting that she re- mains victorious and happy. I must own, I cannot conceive what ideas of art and dramatic connection those persons have who suppose that we can, at pleasure*
HORN 451
tack a doable conclusion to a tragedy; a melancholy one for hard-hearted spectators, and a merry one for souls of a softer mould. After surviving so many sufferings, Lear can only die in a tragical manner from his grief for the death of Cordelia ; and, if he is also to be saved, and to pass the remainder of his days in happiness, the whole loses its signification. According to Shakspeare*s plan the guilty, it is true, are all punished, for wickedness destroys itself; but the auxiliary vutues are every- where too late, or overmatched by the cunning activity of malice. The persons of this drama have only such a faint belief in Providence as heathens may be supposed to have, and the Poet here wishes to show us, that this belief requires a wider range than the dark pilgrimage on earth to be established in its utmost extent.
FRANZ HORN
[Shakspear^s Schauspieli erl&uUrt^ 1823. i, 185.)— To this arbitrary heathen king comes at last the idea of resolving to reign no longer, and yet to remain in a manner still king. He has no pleasure any longer in attending to affairs. He attributes it to old age that he feels thus, but, nevertheless, he will continue invested with royal dignity, with the splendor of royalty. • • • Herein is his great error, and hence a great sin; for, except in rare cases, when a higher will makes itself manifest, man is bound never to desert his post in the State— it is not accident that has placed him there. But what follows when a king, from the impulse of a whim or some error, resigns his great office before God calls him to lay it down? History instances, and it is hardly necessaiy to mention, Charles V. and Christina of Sweden.
It is entirely in character with the fantastic character of Lear, that he should re* solve to divide his kingdom according to the measure of love which he receives; and, as he would settle the matter at once, the measure must be determined by words. The censorious, as some critics have recently done, pronounce him offhand an old fool. We are not disposed to judge him harshly, but, without being too tender, we may charge him with a great error. There is a love with words, and a love without words, neither of which can take the place of genuine love. For this, Lear cares nothing, and, because he cares nothing for it, he commits a great sin against Cor- delia, and almost as great a sin against Kent.
[P. 191.] Lear, in his agony, preserves his sense of justice perfectly. It is only what his daughters have done to him that afflicts him, not the elements that rage against his grey hairs. * I blame you not, I never gave yon kingdoms.' It is only pure sympathy which Nature manifests in her wild uproar. She alone stands by him, when nearly all human sympathy fails him. . . . Even the madness which comes over the old man is to be considered, in a sense, as the sympathy of Nature, and it is not wholly without solace, as it not only does not overcome, but rather exalts, Lear's sense of royalty. * Ay, every inch a king.' With this feeling he still wears the crown, though invisibly.
[P. 193.] It would be an interesting subject for a prize essay which of the two is the worse, Regan or Goneril. I confess, I am not able to answer the question satisfactorily. I believe Shakspeare nuant to leave it a question. It may be said that Goneril, as she was the first to ill-treat her father, was the worse ; but it may be justly replied, that Regan was still worse, inasmuch as the sight of the tortured old man, so far firom moving her, only causes her to torture him anew, so that nothing is left but madness, which, as we have already intimated, can be regarded as only a relief. On the whole, the Fool was in the right when he said that both
45^ APPENDIX
were of a beigfat, and tihat one tasted as mnch like the other as a crab does to a crab.
[P. 196.] But why should Cordelia suffer defeat? Is it not almost too pdnfnl to witness the failure of the plan for the protection of her father^ and for the punish* ment of her sisters? And is it not a veiy natural feeling that has led some English and German critics to desire for the piece, or rather to give it, a different ending?
I answer, it is reasonable that we should wish that virtue should be always victo- rious; but it is in accordance neither with history nor ethics always to give to virtue the victory. The world, with all < its powers,' is, upon its own native soil, the earth, stronger and more powerful than the soft-hearted imagine, for it is every moment drawing new strength from its mother, the earth, and it is just on this account that <the world with all its powers' is to be conquered only in the sphere in which it does not reign (the ancients would say *in the air'). Is the poet then to be false to this eternal law, as history proclaims it, in order to gratify a praiseworthy, yet false, feeling? Was he to allow England to be conquered by France, so that the Prince of France should ascend the British throne with his wife Cordelia? Or was he bound to give us the pleasure of seeing the aged Lear restored to health, and again wielding the sceptre ?
This is indeed what people have demanded, and, in truth, It would have been easy for the poet to gratify us on this point; and after this fashion perhaps: the guilty all to fall in the fight, the phyadan to give us the assurance that Lear's good constitution is entirely sound again; Lear, in order not to convict the Doctor of lying, to publish certain good laws, the trumpets to sound, and the curtain to falU As we have said, this ending, or something lUce it, would have been infinitely easy to the poet— if only he wero not a poet. This circumstance alone prevented him.
How could we have put faith in him had he so carried out the piece ? There are sufferings after which the heart can never agedn be wholly sound, nor fed itself able to enjoy life. Whoever carries this mark of misfortune on his brow and in his heart will only, with extreme trouble, find strength for the duties of life; to these he is bound, and no misfortune can absolve him from their obligation; but the sooner God calls him away; the sweeter is it for him, and it wero a sinful weakness on our part not to acquiesce in his quiet despair. Thus Lear. Whoever has undeigone what he underwent cannot suffer death; he weUomes it
[P. 199.] Even the poorest and humblest servant still has a respectable name, but Kent takes no such title ; he calls himself Caius, Of all names, this is the meanest ; It is hardly a name, as in all schools, in Manuals of Logic, Granmxars,&c it stands as a makeshift for att names. Just on this account, it is hero excellently chosen, for Kent who, as a count and knight, is banished, will be nothing now, and believes there is no need that he should be anything else than a mere helper of the king, and» by this pure self-abnegation, he becomes the most faithful friend of the mberable king,
[P. 216.] In Shakspearo's rich galleiy of fools, the Fool in Liar is the grandest and most tragic. He has more sense than all the rest of the men in the play put together. His disposition Is truly noble and loveable. No one can see more clearly the great weakness of the old Idng, fast growing chUdisfa, than he, but no one can cherish towards him a more faithful love. Wonder not at the many cutting and bitter speeches that he makes; he must say them, for it is his office. We may be sure that he, the wise fool, knows that, in such terrible sufferings as those of the old king, a momentary annoyance is a sort of relief; at all events^ far more easily borne than a state of constant dqncssioQ.
SCHICK-^ULRICI 453
ERNEST SCHICK
{Sk4ikispeaf*s Xing Liar, 1833, p. 203.)— We have yet a few words to say of « chief person of the piece, which, because this person stands by himself, a ^^o specimen of the kind, we have kept for the last ; we mean the FboL His appearance in this tragedy is yeiy significant, as the tragic eflfect is heightened in the greatest de» giee by his humonr and the sharpness of his wit No one bat the tool dared ventiire to tnm Lear's attention to his great folfy (the resignation of his power in his life- time). It is of the greatest importance that this unwise proceeding of the king should be directly pointed at, as with the finger of another, and it is made ever plainer to him how foolishly, and, in relation to Cordelia, how nnjnstly he has acted. Bat the shrewd Fool knew how to dothe his mockeries so skilfoUy, and to produce them sa opportunely, that, although they are none the less cutting, their design is not so prominent, and the king takes them because they come from the Fool, who is bound to speak truth, and to whom Lear is attached, even as the Fool, with the most de* voted love, is attached to Lear. But it is not only his wit, never running dry, although indeed alloyed by many a platitude, nor his invariable good humor and his clear nnderstanding, by which the Fool commands our sympathy, but, in an almost still higher degree, it is the loveaUeness of his character that interests us. He has pined away— as we learn before he appears— afler the youngest of the princesses has gone to France, and has sorrowed the more for what the knight who relates his conditiqii cannot mention to the king, namely, the unhappy circumstances under which the de* parture of Cordelia has taken place. And how faithfully does he cling to the king in that fearful night, and, by forcing himself to appear merrier than he possibly could be in that condition, try in every Way to calm the wild excitement of his master, and lure him from his heartrending, maddening pain at the shameful ingratitude of his degenerate daughters. But the more the Fool is saddened at the sight of Lear's tailing mind, the fewer are his words, untU at last the Poet, and with perfect truth, lets him disappear from the scene, as his later appearance would be without signifi* cance, and have a disturbing effect But that we do not learn what becomes of him certainly seems strange, but it is not hard to explain it It remained only for Lear to inquire for him, or, in one way or another, to make mention of him, but Lear is subsequently so entirely engrossed with his own fortunes and Cordelia's, and so, as It were, buried in them, that he could not turn his thoughts to anything which was re* mote from these fortunes. It is highly probable that the Fool's heart was broken bf trouble and grief at Lear's cruel Sate.
ULRia
{Skakapearii dramatische Kumi^ 1839. TVans. byL. Dora Sdmiits. London^ 1876, voL i; p. 433.) — \n'IRng Lear^ love is once more made the fundamental' motive of liuman life, but it is again a different, a new manifestation of the divine power; it is the third and last main form in which love directly and actively influ* ences the development of human existence, and in which it is revealed as the first and most natural bond of the great organism of humanity, as the basis and funda* mental condition of all mental and moral culture. In Romeo and JuKii it is the devotion of betrothed persons and the passionate enthusiasm of youthful love; in OtheUo it is the manly strength and fulness of conjugal affection, esteem, and fidelity \ in XtngLeart on the other hand, it is panntdt iove andfiUal revermeo that are regarded as the centre of all human lekitioDS. Here the family bond^in its de^
454 APPENDIX
historical significance* is the ground upon which the Poet takes his stand. To repre- sent the aspect of life, presented by this point of view in a poetico-dramatic form, and from within the tragic conceptions of life, is the intention, the leading thought, Che fundamental idea of the tragedy
The high noonday sun of love has sunk into the still glowing but fast-fading tints of evening. Lear, in mind and body, is still a vigorous old man, but nevertheless an old man, and one who has not yet overcome the failings of his nature— obstinacy and love of dominion, quickness of temper, and want of consideration; his heart alone has retained the fulness and freshness of youth. Therefore the rich portion of love which has fallen to his lot he lavishes wholly upon his children ; he gives them his all, hoping to find, in their love and gratitude, rest from the storms, anxieties, and troubles of life. But this love, which leads him to forget his position as king in that of the father, and to neglect all other duties in his anxieties as head of the family, which confounds the inward inclination with the outward affection— not merely erring momentarily, but in its obstinacy proving itself so prejudiced that Kent's endeavour to bring it to a true knowledge of itself fails completely in spite of the pertinacity with which he urges it, — this love, as in Othello and Romeo and Juliet^ is here also involved in one-sidedness and contradiction. Here, too, it is of a passionate character, devoid of all self-control, which is manifested in Lear's over- hasty banishment of Cordelia and Kent. Nay, his love is not even altogether true in itself, and for thb very reason forms a wrong estimate of truth, and rejects genuine pure love and exchanges it for semblance, falsehood, and hypocrisy. In short, love here, at the same time, falls into contradiction with itself. The tragic conflict has increased, and from having been confined to external circumstances, has now sunk into the deepest depths of the heart; the question in the present case does not (as in Othello and Romeo and Juliet) turn merely upon the contradiction between the inward justification of their loves and the right of parents which stands externally opposed to it ; it does not turn merely upon the conflict into which Lear falls by fol* lowing the beautiful and perfectly justified impulse of his paternal heart— thus neglect ing his duties as king, whereby the right of his paternal love becomes a wrong to his kingdom— but in Lear's veiy paternal love, the substance stands in contradiction with the form, the father's right with the right of the lover^ As father, as head of the family, whose will determines the outward life of the children, in what they do or leave undone, Lear cannot only have demanded, but, in accordance with his nature, must even have imperiously and inconsiderately required, that his love should be returned by his children's affection, even in the external acts of obedience and submission. However, Lear makes this demand not as a father, but as a lover; he confounds the external, obligatory, legal relation subsisting between a father and children with the internal, free, ethical relations of lovers, whose rights consist in the very fact that all outward rights and duties cease between them. He transfers the one relation to the other, and thereby places paternal and filial love in contradic- tion to one another, inasmuch as the child cannot perform what perhaps it ought and must do, because it is not addressed to its filial obedience, but to its free love, and thus opposes it For love, in accordance with its very nature, lies in the deepest depths and freedom of the mind; it is itself this very depth and freedom expressed by communion of life, in which each seeks his iimiost self and its ideal complement in that of another. The outward deed in itself is, therefore, of no consequence to it, as love, it is no outward action, but an inward, independent, and a self-sufficient life, which, owing to its very nature, expresses itself only in feelings and impulses.
ULRici 455
It nayy therefore, be that love is the motive of actions, and that it speaks and acts itself, but it is not increased by this outward action ; this outwardness is, in itself, of no value to it, but is the perfectly accidental, indifferent, unintentional expression of its want to seek its own happiness in the happiness of the beloved. Hence it does not act for its own sake, in order to show and to prove itself, but purely for the sake of the beloved object For the same reason, also, it do^ not demand of the beloved any outward action, any palpable proof of love, but is merely concerned about the communion of souls, about their union in life and action. Nay, in its full strength and undimmed purity— such as we see in Cordelia, after her banishment— ^ it does not even demand love in return, but rejoices in it only when it is a free gift.
This true form of love is, indeed, active in X^ear; the substance is there, but it stands in contradiction with its form, and thereby with itself. In consequence of his confounding filial piety with firee filial love, Lear not merely demands the love of his children as his due right, but also demands its outward confirmation in word and deed, corresponding with the way and manner in which his own love manifests itselH He values love according to its outward actions, and hence forms a wrong estimate of its entirely inward nature, which, in fact, cannot be estimated. But this apparent fault of the understanding, this confusion of ideas, is, at the same time, the result of a defect of the heaxt in wishing not only to be loved, but also to appear to be loved, in order that in the measure of his children's love, and in the greatness of their affection, he may, as in a mirror, behold and enjoy the greatness and worth of his own person. His love, consequently, is not pure and unconditional, for it is con* ferred conditionally only; that is, on condition of love in return and its outward testimony ; it is not free and spontaneous, for it is not merely a direct feeling, but is reflected in itself, places the value on itself. Thus it becomes either weakly, sensi* tive to eveiy rude touch, and unable to bear frankness and truth, or it becomes pre- tentious; and as a virtue becomes a vice through pride of virtue, so Lear's love, owing to its demands, is, at the same time, egotism; in giving itself up, it at the same time withholds itself; thirsting for and greedy of love, it is, at the same time, selfish and filled with hate. This inner contradiction, this unconscious and yet actual cause of the discord in the nature of Lear's paternal love, is the ethical foun- dation upon which the action is raised. The object and aim of the dramatic action is to solve this contradiction, to conciliate the old man's love with itself, to purify and to restore to its disturbed state as a father and king, in an ideal form.
A firm, a sincerely affectionate family bond, embracing equally aU members, is a matter of impossibility with such a species of paternal love. A love like this, which demands love and external proofs of love, calls for a contradiction in love on the other 8ide,whUe it bears and fosters a contradiction within itself. In its selfishness it either produces egotism, and, in its untruth, caUs forth hypocrisy and sanctimoniousness, or it drives the true love on the other side back into its inmost self, and leads it to resist all external proo&, in sharp opposition to the false and unreal love. The contradic- tion in Lear's paternal love, therefore, produces in his children also an external sep- aration; in Regan and Goneril we find selfishness and falsehood, in Cordelia a pure, frank, sincere, but silent and retiring love, sharply and dbtinctly prominent. Thus Lear's paternal love, in place of calling forth the uniting bond of family love, rather itself produces the discord. The relation between father and daughters is not broken for the first time on the occasion of the division of the kingdom ; it had already been internally destroyed by Lear's own conduct, by the peculiar nature of his love ; it if he who hai not fastened the bond in its right place, it is tied merely by external re-
456 APPENDIX
lations and considerations; when these break down it unavoidably falls to pieces. This not only points to, but actually determines, the tragic fate of the hero and the complication of the main action, for all that follows is but the necessary consequence of the destruction of the family bond. Thereby, however, Lear himself appears the first cause of the whole tragic complication ; he himself is to blame for his children's doings and sufferings; he falls owing to the one-sidedness, the errors and contradic- tions, in his own loving heart.
[P. 440.] Lear and Gloster must be represented infinitely more as sinned agaunst than sinning, so that the spectator may clearly perceive the terrible, but infallible, truth,, that it is the nature of evil to spring up to an incalculable magnitude, like rank weeds from small seeds, and that it is not so much the crime itself as the came of the crime that is the chief fault of evil; moreover, that this cause invariably proceeds more especially from a want of moral firmness and a wrong state of family life.
[P. 446.] But this murder of Cordelia — this veiled angelic form, with the tender beauty of her loving, maidenly soul, and yet so manly in her resolution and self* reliance, with her deep, peaceful heart which is so strong and pure in feeling, with her silent love and self-denial, with her heroic royalty-^oes her death not seem like that of an innocent victim, and, though not without a motive, does it not, however, appear unreasonable and devoid of all internal necessity ? It certainly does seem so; and yet, when more carefully examined, it is evident that Cordelia did not, from the beginning, stand upon that height of pure love and devotion, of self-control and self-denial, to which she subsequently rises. She, too, like all Shakspeare's cha* racters, is not a pure, ideal form, but undergoes an inner development, a process of purification. Cordelia has inherited something of her father's hasty temperament, of his pride and self-will. Shocked at the hypocrisy and dissimulation of her sisters, too proud even to endure the semblance of it, as if she too wanted to win favour and interest by similar flattering speeches and declarations of love (by 'such a tongue * that I am glad I have not, though not to have it hath lost me in your liking '), she, in the excitement of the moment, meets her father with nndutiful defiance, and an- swers his loving questions with undeniable harshness and abruptness, in place of afiectionately humouring his weakness. This she was not justified in doing, even though she did not understand his behaviour, and thought his conduct foolish. She is as well aware of the violence, the impetuosity and domineering spirit of her father's nature, as Goneril, and yet she continues, regardless of his repeated entreaties to consider what she is saying, to reply in her obviously offensive and provoking manner, and finally to give an explanation which could not but irritate him even, more, as it contained a distinct reproach against himself and his demands. What she must have expected, must have foreseen, occurs : Lear bursts out into a fit of rage; she does nothing to check it, to calm it; she lets its full force fall upon her. By this, however, she draws upon her Own head a share of the great misery which must follow upon her being disinherited, and which, with some little thoughtfulness, she might have foreseen ; nay, to a certain extent, she is chiefly to blame for the whole of the terrible catastrophe; it could not possibly have happened had she not been disinherited and banished. By her own fault, therefore, she has become en- tangled in the tragic fate which is hanging over her father's house; she herself called it forth, and has, accordingly, also to fall with it Her transgression, when compared with the misdeeds and crimes of those around her, does indeed appear next to nothing; she has certainly atoned for it by the tenderest love and devotion with which she hurries to the assistance of her aged father, and by which she saves^
RAPP^GER VJNUS 45/
tends, and cures lum. Bat it was she who unfettered the power of eyil, and, con- sequently, she too is drawn along by it amid the general destruction. And yet her tragic fate does not appear at all in proportion with the d^ree of her wrong-doing. But who will hlame the Poet for being of the opinion, that it is a nobler fate to suffer death to save a father than to live in the remembrance of the horrors which havo fallen npon her home, and for which she has been partly to blame? Or for his having .referred the solution of the incongruity between the wrong-doing and the consequent evil — an incongruity which in this world so frequently remains unsolved ^Ao a future state of existence; and for having considered such a. death as Cor« delia's, not as a nxisfortune, but as the mere mode of transition to a better existence ? [P. 449.] It may be asked why the Fool and his humour are, in this tragedy, placed so decidedly and so prominently in the foreground. ... It is evident, that Lear's insanity is partly occasioned by the strange, fantastic ideas with which the Fool constantly keeps lashing the king's folly; with these Edgar's assumed madness co-operates even more effectually.
MORITZ RAPP
iJShahpiriM SckampUU^ Emleitung. Stuttgart, 1843, P- 7*)— What Lear has la conuion with OtheUo is the soul of the Pbet, dark, melancholy, deeply wounded, well-nigh shattered by the world; only here, in Lior^ still more than in OtheUo^ has he concentrated in his work, painted in burning colors, all the bitterness which the depravity of human nature must generate in a sensitive heart The Poet had daughters; that he had, perhaps, similar experiences may be supposed; divested of the historic^ costume, the features of Lear look out npon us with the naturalness of ordinaiy life, so that we seem to see an nnhappy dtisen of the year 1600 wrestling with madness rather than an old English king, much as Lear insists npon his rq^ dignity. Here is the charm which the poem has for the great public: Lear snfibs frcmi the domestic cross which Is nerer wholly absent in any single family. It needs but a small quantity of hypodiondria to jnagniiy a situation of small occasions Into such giant proportions. In this view, the poem may be styled the poetiy or the tragedy of the chcderic temperament, as Hamlet is of the mdan- choUc^ and Romeo of the sanguine nature. In Liar all is precipitous, in wild haste, thundering on, and this is Uie case even In the subordinate parts.
GERVINUS
{Shakesptan^ 1S49, Fonzth edition, li, 187. Leipdg, 1872.)— The mptore of tiiese family relations Is, In a manner, the centrid point of this tn^edy, and, at first sight, one is prompted to regard as its ruling thought the representation of filial ingratitude. But, In truth, the idea of this work is fax more comprehensive, and these domestic conflicts are rather the body than the soul of the play. But they add to the horror of the subject; the like condition of things among strangers would not have had cqualpower. These troubles, so heaped together, so gathered all into the bosom of Uie closest of kindred, represent, as Schlq^d says, <a great Insurrection la the moral *woild; the picture is gigantic^ and the honor it awakens is Idn to that which 'would be felt were the heavenly bodies to rush away from their appointed courses.'
If we aro right in saying, that to depict the shock of mighty passions contending against the natural and moral boundaries of humanity is the special task of tragedy.
458 APPENDIX
then this task, in the piece before us, appears, as it were, generalized; while other tragedies treat of single passions, this tragedy deals with passion in general, so that the thoughtful reader must feel more or less deeply that it may be styled the tragedy par excellence. In no other tragedy, in which there are so many characters, are they all equally given over to the most violent emotions.
[P. 19X.] At first sight no difference is discernible between the two sisters (' as like
< as a crab is to a crab,' says the Fool) ; npon a closer view it » surprising what a broad and dearly-defined contrast there is between them. The elder, Goneril, with the wolfish visage and the dark frontlet of ill-humour, is a masculine woman, full of purposes and intrigues of her oWn, whilst Regan seems more womanly, under the lead of Goneril, more passive, more dependent. Goneril's boundlessly ' unbordered.' nature, rendering her a true o&pring of that terrible age, shows itself in bloody under- takings bred in her own brain, while Regan's evil nature is seen in her urging on the atrocities of others, as when Kent is set in the stocks and Gloster's eyes are put out. The worse of the two is united to a noble gentleman (Albany), whom she reviles as
< a moral fool,' and the mildness and repose of whose character seem to her * milky * gentleness,' and whose quiet power and resolute manliness she is only at a later period aware of. The better sister has the worse husband, whose fierce temperament tolerates no opposition and no remonstrance. Goneril, at the first, lords it over her husband, who recognizes her foresight, and yields to her wild temper, so long as he does not understand her; she pursues her own way, hardly listens to him, scarcely deigning him worthy of an answer; while Regan is submissive to the sullen and violent Cornwall, who is resolute and immoveable in his purposes. At the very first (sc. i) Goneril appears as the prime mover, and Regan as her echo. She it is who subsequently puts restraints upon the king, she is the first to treat him with disrespect, to halve and dismiss his attendants, while Regan shows some lingering awe of him. But she is more afraid of her sister than her father, and suffers her father's messenget rather than her sister's servant to-be ill-treated. Her sister knows her weakness ; she does not think it sufficient to write ; she goes to her and goes after her, to be sure of lier joining in her plans. Regan cannot hurl forth stinging speeches like Goneril^ she has not the same fierce eyes, her took (which Lear in his madness calls a squint) is comforting rather, her nature softer; and Lear hardly ventures to look closely at lier when, in his madness, he sits in judgement upon her; he would have her heart anatomized. She says in a simple way far ruder things to her father than Goneril does, and yet her father hesitates to pronounce his curse on her as he does npon her sister, and that twice repeated. Goneril receives it with marble coolness, but Regan shud- ders and dreads to draw upon herself the like imprecation. Only when Goneril has laid bare in her presence her ntter shamelessness and barbarity towards her old father, does Regan grow bolder also, and drive away the king's knights; him alone will ahe harbour. When Goneril determines that the old man shall taste the consequences of his obstinacy and folly, and forbids Gloster, in spite of the raging storm, to detain him, Regan, with her diaracteristic weakness, falls in with her sister. After the serpent brood are relieved of their old father, then begins a strife in their families. Goneril mines deeper; the ill-treatment of Lear is only the prelude. She will have possesion of the whole kingdom, she betroths herself to Edmund, her husband still living, exults in Cornwall's death, poisons Regan, joins with Edmund in putting Cor* delia to death, and plots at last against her husband's life, whom she now fears since he has learned with horror her evil deeds. Here again, in the contrast, R^;an ap- peals sunpler and less bold; only after Cornwall's death does she engage herself
GERVINUS 459
to Edmund, to whom she sends letters hy Goneril's servant, whose good faith she does not suspect ; she falls a Tictlm to the poison administered by her sister, herself free from the suspicion of like murderous designs; in every respect, she is of a more constrained nature than her sister, whose * woman's will is of indistinguished * space.'
[P. 205.] To play the part of Edgar requires a man to be * ereiy inch an actor.* He changes at least six different times. At first he is Edgar; then Poor Tom ; then, forgetting this part in his devotion to his father, he loses sight of it; then he describes the immeasurable depths of the pretended cliff, as if he himself stood dizzily upon it; next he is the dweller on the shore, where Gloster thinks he has fallen; then, after the meeting of his father with Lear, he is another beggar, and, in the presence of the steward, he is changed into a peasant; in the lists with Edmund, he is an un- known champion, and last, he is himself again. In all these parts he is cunning in the extreme; his father, on first meeting with Poor Tom, is dimly reminded of his son Edgar, then, and every time the danger of his being recognized appears to in- crease, he aims to keep hb disguise the more. But his dissembling does not partake of the fear and excitability of Hamlet; from his father's dead body, from Kenfs mortal agony, from scenes of the deepest emotion, Edgar goes to do battle with Ed- nmnd, and he comes off victorious. Having such self-command, Edgar, we feel, is equal in his disguise to the discharge of the most important services in his father's behalf; he is the support of his father In body and mind.
[P. 209.] In this play ethical justice is especially emphasized by the Poet himself. But where is justice in the death of Cordelia ? Why does a better fate fall to Edgar, when he is to his father what Cordelia is to hers? But it is precisely this difo* ence in their fates that helps us to the meaning of the Poet The wise and prudent forethought evinced by Edgar places him in strong contrast with Cordelia. His means are always well adapted to his ends; not so is it with Cordelia. She attacks England with a French army to reinstate her father. The whole responsibility of this step falls upon her. She has besought her husband, with * important tears,' to give her this army. To him this war was no pressing affiur; he does not appear (and this Steevens and Tieck do not perceive, although it is obvious) with Cordelia in England ; he occupies himself with other matters of State. We need not be told by her, that * no blown ambition incites ' her arms ; we believe it already, but when she should have dedared it to Albany she says nothing. Only the one thought of her filial love moves her. When she has found her father in Dover she resigns her army to her Marshal; this renders the attack the more serious, as it is directed on a kingdom divided and in periL The brothers-in-law, hostile to each other, and op* posite as they are in their characters, join forces against it; the noble Albany unites with the terrible Edmund. But Albsny is far more circumspect than Cordelia. At variance with Goneril and Edmund, he has, after Cornwall's death, the prospect of the sole sovereignty when he has conquered and set aside Lear and Cordelia. He declares, however, to the allies, that he separates the French invasion from the cause of Lear; this Cordelia had declared to no one. 'The business of this war,' says Albany, 'toucheth us only as Fkance invades our land not holds the king; ' him will he favour, and treat the prisoners, moreover, according to their deserts, and in refer« ence to kit ewn sa/efy, A amilar declaration made by Cordelia to Albany could have stopped the war and changed the result. But Cordelia, from her peculiar nature, makes it not Her fault at the last is her fault at the first. What is self-evident she oannot otter; to that which fills her heart she cannot give words. So long as she
46o APPENDIX
lived and made war Albany must needs fear ihat she would sutject the whole king- dom to France; but this idea, of the possibility of a French army's bdng victorious on Englbh soil, the patriotism of Shakespeare would not admit Like Desdemona, Cordelia falls a sacrifice to her own nature; in Cordelia's case the peculiar circum- stances connected with her death reconcile us to it in a greater degree. Although conquered in battle, she has gained the better victory which alone she sought; she has outwardly restored her father. She has come with boundless thanks for Kent who had supported him, and with promises of all her treasures to the physician who would heal him; all these things show that her mind is full to overflowing of one thought, her father's restoration, in which all concern for her own safety is forgotten.
DR CARL C. HENSE
{Vortr> Uber auigew&hlti dramoHseke Dichtungem Shakeipear^t^ SckiUer^s^ und Coeth^s, Halberstadt, 1856, p. 43.) — Genuine humout breaks forth only out of a loving heart, and through his unbounded love for his master the Fool has purchased the right to tell him the bitter truth, and hold up the mirror before the wrong that he has done.
As the Fool represents truth in the guise of humour, he cannot be brought forward until the rupture with the moral law has taken place; the disguised truth waits; the king has not for two days seen the Fool. In his grief for Cordelia's banishment, the Fool has almost forgotten his part, and this affords us a pledge that, under the veil of humour, the deepest earnestness is concealed. Only in slight allusions does he touch the fault of the king, for roughly to waken up the injury done were the office not of love but of scorn. Hence the Fool makes the folly of the king the target of his humour ; the harmless words he throws out conceal it deep and penetrating sig- nificance. When, immediately after Goneril's first rude speech to her father, the Fool breaks out with the apparently random words, < Out went the candle, and we were left darkling ' — the words of an old song— the point is, that the light of the moral world has now ceased to shine, and the darkness incessantly increases (com- pare the words addressed to Kent by the Fool, Act II, sc. iv, with the words : « We'll set thee to school to an ant,' &c.). As, however, the old king draws ever nearer to the brink of the abyss, the arrows of the Fool, aimed at the folly of the king, grow fewer, he catches oftener at some harmless, jesting remark, to cheer the suffering of his master, and to lighten the burthen of his own grief. The whole depth and power of his sorrow he crowds into a little song, for he has become thus rich in songs since the king, as he says, has made his daughters his mothers. In a similar way he expresses his impregnable devotion to the king in those deeply significant verses in which he promises not to desert the king in the storm, and the particular theme of which is that the wise are fools before God, but the fools in the eye of the world are justified by a higher Power.
The Fool has his place in the tragedy only so long as the king is able to perceive the truth veiled by the Fool's humour. There is no longer room or need for him alter the king becomes crazed. This crisis is the end of the Fool. He vanishes, *goes to bed at mid-day,' when his beloved master is hopelessly lost
KREYSSIG 461
KREYSSIG
( Vorhmngen Hber Shakespeare, &c., 1862, ii» 316.) — Goethe has pronounced the 6rst scene absurd. More recent criticism, certainly in view of that judgment harsh, but not without reason, has defended it as unobjectionable, but yet hardly with a con- vincing, decisive result It is doubtless only too natural that a hot-blooded gentle* man, long accustomed to the exercise of irresponsible power, should reward his children, as well as his' servants, not according to their services, but according to their address in flattering his self-love. When did not the flatterer feather his nest more successfully than the faithful, outspoken, independent servant ? But in poetry, and especially in the drama, the subject-matter of a scene is not to be separated by the understanding from its form. And the form, in which Lear's arbitrary humour expresses itself in this scene, finds its natural and true significance only in fact as the symbol of a whole series of presumable precedents. Is it not the behaviour of a man already unsettled in his understanding, when a father, in solemn assembly, sets his children a lesson in flattery, and when he formally proposes for the required display of bombast a downright cash premium, so that for the blasi vanity of the monarch grown old in the habit of being worshipped, there is no possibility of delu« sion ? And is the scene the first of the part which he plays ? It notifies us to expect a reigning king, and the very first words are the words of a man with a crack in his brain. It appears to me that Shakespeare here, in giving motive and a dramatic form to the legend, is lacking in his usual care. This want is assuredly considerably alle- viated by the excellent elucidations of the scenes that follow. But .the satisfaction subsequently afforded to the understanding cannot be any compensation to us if the imagination has previously had just reason to be offended.
[P. 318.] So much at least is clear. It is only the burthen and duties of empire that the tired old king wishes to be rid of. That his regal rights can suffer changes, never occurs to him. This is evident from the utter overthrow of his self-possession when the idea of this personal, indefeasible claim to absolute power is for the first time openly crossed by the complaints of GoneriL Very strikingly for his view of the situation, he makes not the remotest allusion to the substance of her complaint 'Art thou my daughter? ' This is his only reply when she complains of the beha« viour of his retinue. It was a monstrous illusion which drove him to that eventful abdication — ^the idea of the indestructible, all-embracing nature of hb personal authority, which he imagines to be wholly independent of what he possesses and can do. He recognizes no other relation to society but claim, right, mercy on his side, prayer, gratitude, devotion from all others. Naturally, the whole airy edifice tumbles into ruins so soon as the open secret becomes clear to him that that mystic regal great- ness falls to the ground with the loss of material power, and that the despot's arbi- trary himiour educates its favourites, even though they be his own children, to be intriguing slaves, when he sets aside their nobler, self-respecting natures as disagree- able opponents, as creatures without court-manners. To the first contradiction which he has met perhaps for many years, Lear opposes a rage, boundless and incapable of all consideration. He raves and foams like some wild torrent around the rock which has rolled down into its waters. To the inquiries of the well-meaning Albany he returns no answer. His wrath blazes out in a half-insane curse upon Goneril, ' the * thankless child who has stung him sharper than a serpent's tooth.' "Who does not feel the horror of his position ? And yet the reckless outburst of his passion cer« tainly qualifies our tribute of sympathy by the violence to which it drives him. We 39*
462 APPENDIX
are involuntarily reminded of the old experience that ingratitude rarely wounds the* true, that is, the disinterested, benefactor, or that its poison has no effect upon the blessed consciousness of genuine humanity, which has its foundation in a free devo* tion to moral necessity, and not in the quicksand of selfish interest, driven hither and thither by the waves of passion. Of that devotion there is no trace in the beha* viour of the irascible king. Revenge, violence, a taking back what he has given— these are his first thoughts. That by his abdication he has taken a position no longer wholly independent, finds no place in his mind. The presentiment of madness comes over him in the fearful collision of the blind, raging thirst for revenge with the laming consciousness of his lack of power. We are almost tempted to excuse the unfilial fye ! fye I of the hard-hearted Regan, when the old man, at the bare mention of the strife with Goneril, breaks out into the well-known curse. And it needs the whole, overpowering impression of his weakness and helplessness, it needs the symbolism of the corresponding uproar of the element, to secure the fulness of tragic sympathy for the despairing old man, exposed on the barren heath to the fury of the storm. The fearful magnificence of this celebrated scene requires no word of praise from the commentator, and its terrible truth to nature makes every word expended upon it sound impertinent. His pain at the ingratitude of those whom he has heaped with favour and fortune, all the keener for the humiliating consdousness of his own un* questionable folly, passes into the fatal subility of the fixed idea, by the hot breath of which the springs of his spiritual life are dried up, until the j^antom of madness settles weirdly down upon the dry, burnt-out waste.
rOmelin
(Shakesfeart^SiudieHf 1866, p. 61.)— The conduct of old Gk)ucester is not a whit more rational. That the lawful son of his father, grown up under his father's eyes, and always regarded by him as true and amiable, should all at once engage in a con- spiracy with a vagabond bastard brother against his father*s life, should even commit this design to paper, and throw the letter at random into that brother's window, should seem to the old man utterly incredible ; but that the old man banishes this son, without seeing and hearing him, that Edgar consents to have anything to do with the silly hocus- pocus of the sword-drawing, and flees without exposing the clumsy farce to his father, —in a word, these are circumstances past all belief, and hardly rise above nursery tales. As all proceeds so rapidly, and Edgar, one hardly understands how, is driven by lies from his father's house, it is, as represented on the stage, scarcely intelligible. That Edgar comes on the stage as a crazy beggar is no more clearly explained, yet the reasons of it may be imagined; but that, in this disguise of a madman, he utters^ without any necessity, so much useless talk, becomes extremely wearisome,* while the much-admired scene in the hut, through its length, and the inexhaustible stream of crazy speeches, is, according to our feeling, equally fatiguing. It might even be con- jectured that Shakespeare intended to give us here a sort of dramatic extravaganza, showing us specimens of three different kinds of fools all together, one really crazy, one pretending to be crazy, and one a Fool by profession — ^these he sets upon the scene side by side, and lets all three figure away in the finest style.
* Klbxn, of whose wide range of scholarship I am incompetent to judge, hot whose pages charm me with their sparkling wit, in his Gtschkktt des lUiiUnuckeu Dramas, vol. I, p. 890, quotes in a foot-note this remarlc hy Rilmelin ahout Edgar's wearisome platitudes, and slyly adds ; ' Edgar was just the very man, then, to write Skaiet/tareSiMdien^'^ED,
OECHELHAUSER 463
Kent's behaviour is so ummannerly towards the chamberlain that the chastisement which he incuxs does not impress us, as it should, with a sense of a wrong, or of an insult to the king. That afterwards this Oswald, when mortally struck, in the last moment of his life, thinks of nothing but how he shall fulfil a command of his lord's, presents a touching instance of fidelity, not at all in accord with the pre* vious baseness of his character. That any one should be made to believe that, by a jump on the level ground, he has leaped a thousand fathom down, and come off un* injured, is against all probability.
Finally, the savage cruelty of digging out the eyes of Gloster with the leg of a. chair on the stage ! [* Die wilde Grausamkeit, dass dem niedergeworfenen Gloster auf der BOhne mit einem Stuhlfuss beide Augen ausgedrUckt werden ! ' Comment is needless. — Ed.] Of the eleven chief persons of the piece only three remain alive I The whole action in King Lear has the character of a nurseiy tale of the horrible sort, only that it is lacking in the wonderful.
But nursery stories are not fit subjects for tragedy. The effect of the serious drama depends upon the supposition that we ourselves are of the same stuff, susceptible of the same feelings, passions, and motives, as the persons whom the poet brings before us, that the same forces rule over our lives, that, consequently, the case put before us is of like concern to all. This illusion the poet can, at no price, suffer to be destroyed. He does not disturb it, or he hardly disturbs it, even when he introduces a supernatural element, so long as it is related or natural to the his- torical basis on which the piece rests. Gods, ghosts, oracles, &c. appear, under this condition, in agreement with fate and accident, which always have for us an irrational side. But one thing, under all circumstances, must remain intact, namely, the psychological basis of all human action. In dramatic incidents we must recognize our own life mirrored; our logic, as of universal weight. The poet must not attribute to his persons a higher degree of infatuation, of perverseness, and short- sightedness than we hold ourselves and mankind at large liable to. When to the heroes, for whom he claims my reverence and my sympathy, I am compelled to object, that neither I nor any man in his senses would, in the given case, think of so acting, then is the illusion irretrievably ruined. It is just this that distinguishes the nursery tale from the legend, myth, and fable, that the actions of the hero of the tale are determined by motives which have force only in the world of dreams or of childhood. Hence the stuff of which nurseiy tales are composed may indeed be treated epically or lyrically, or be made available in fantastic comedies or musical pieces, as Shakespeare has employed it in the most brilliant manner. But it is re- pugnant to the very nature of Uie grave drama. From this point of view, the play of King Lear is of an entirely false kind, and TiecVs attempt to reanimate it for the German stage must necessarily remain without effect and success.
WILHELM OECHELHAUSER
yShakespeare dramatisehe Werhe^ Einleitung, 187 1, p. 30.)— The Fool is the last and, at the same time, the noblest creation of the kind in Shakespeare; he is by far the most intellectual and noblest of his fools. Two prevailing currents of feeling are conspicuous in the Fool. The first is his sorrow over Cordelia, to whom he is as faithful as a dog. ' Since my young lady's going into France, the Fool hath much ' pined away.' This sorrow is expressed by the merciless blows which, far exceed- ing his traditional privilege, he deals at the king for his folly in abdicating his crown.
464 APPENDIX
and for his lack of just appreciation of his youngest daughter. We should hold the Fool to be hard-hearted, malicious, if it were not for his motive. But, with the in* creasing misfortunes of the old king, the tone of the Fool changes; sympathy with his old master gives another direction to his mind, and sweetens his bitterness. In the fearful night on the heath he still plays the fool only to meet the humour of the king in the usual way ; for the rest he is all anxiety for his unhappy lord. He • labours to outjest his [the king's] heartstruck injuries.' The r^le requires a skilful portrayer of character. Comic actors hardly ever know how to master this. It is all the more difficult, as we have quite lost the understanding of this class, which still flourished even in Shakespeare's time. The endeavour to support this rOle by nonsensical mimicry should cease; the part is sustained by its own intellectual power. I would have the Fool represented as an elderly man, as a sort of family piece in the house of the eighty-year-old king. His office would naturally have become less perfunctory and easier. His probable years released him from the traditional demands made upon his class for physical activity. His speeches bear the stamp of the biting irony which is not an acquired thing, but which usually comet with age in one whose humble station does not correspond with his intellectual abilities. However this may be, the effect of this rOle would be greatly increased if, in the stormy night, the mask of the Fool is allowed ever more and more to fall off, and the sad, faithful servant becomes more and more prominent, as in this scene the surroundings of the unhappy king must render the sympathy and concern of the Fool more lively. With this scene, alas \ the Fool vanishes from the stage; he is in this piece treated, as his class were in actual life, as a simple object, having no claim upon one's personal interest.
[P. 36.] Cordelia should have yielded to Lear's bizarre, yet harmless idea of plea- sing himself with his children's protestations of love, and should, as she knew her father, have foreseen the consequences of her refusal to contribute to this pleasure. Following that first, one-sided impulse, she does not do so, and indirectly all the after misery springs from her refusal. Although man is answerable only for the nat* ural, foreseen consequences of his actions, and not for those which result from the concatenation of circumstances and the collision with the evil-doing of others, yet tragic criminality has another standard of punishment than that of the earthly judge. In this dark tragedy, tragic guilt knows no result but death ; whoever in passing touches only the hem of its garment falls a victim to the powers of darkness. Thus is Cordelia's death justified. But how nobly does she atone for her fault I With what fulness of love and tenderness does she call back her aged father to life and mental soundness ! Thenceforth they are one ; the whole life of the one, the whole life of the other, so interwoven the one with the other, that it is at once the highest poetry and the highest truth when they die together.
The part of Cordelia is in every respect the opposite of that of Goneril. While the latter, a deep study, requires great acquaintance with the business of the stage, the former may be acted by a talented beginner, if she only has a flexible organ united with deep, warm feeling. It is especially a r6le of feeling, which must be played with the greatest simplicity and naturalness, and necessarily by an actress of very youthful appearance. Many passages, for example, the recognition scene, be- long to the most pathetic scenes which the stage has to offer. An angelic loveliness is the atmosphere in which Cordelia has her being. But in the introduction a differ- ent tone is to be struck, which most actresses miss. Here, by the intonation of her answer to Lear, * Nothing,' must be expressed the defiant emotion, which, although
VICTOR HUGO 465
firom the noblest motives, has sprung up in her mind (its rise may be intimated by her dumb play while her sisters are speaking), but then also there must be shown the mental conflict, the result of which is that laconic answer. To help this I would in- sert before her first answer, < Nothing,' the query, < I ? ' followed by a pause, expres- sive of the inward struggle, before she breaks out quickly and suddenly with the * Nothing.' Once having committed herself so far, she becomes calm and composed, without, however, manifesting her deep pain at her father's cruelty. It must appear how her heart still clings to her father, how fearfully she suffers under his curse. The insensibility of many of our Cordelias in this scene is not in place; it is not in harmony with her subsequent appearance. Her dumb play in the first Scene is the most difficult in the part
VICTOR HUGO
( William Shakespeare, 1864, P« 322.) — ^Lear, c'est I'occasion de Cordelia. La nut> ternit^ de la fille sur le pire; sujet profond; maternity v6n6rable entre toutes, si ad- mirablement traduite par la l^gende de cette romaine, nourrice, au fond d'un cachot^ de son pire vieillard. La jeune mamelle prds de la barbe blanche, il n'est point de spectacle plus sacri. Cette mamelle filiale, c'est Cordelia.
Une fois cette figure r^v^e et trouv6e Shakespeare a ciih son drame. Ot, mettre cette rassurante vision? Dans un sidde obscur. Shakespeare aprisTan 3105 du monde, le temps od Joas itait roi de Juda, Aganippus roi de France et L^ir roi d'Angleterre. Toute la terre 4tait alors myst^rieuse; repr^sentez-vous cette ^poque : le temple de Jerusalem est encore tout neuf, les jardins de S^miramis, bAtis depuis neuf cents ans, commencent k crouler, les premieres monnaies d'or paraissent k £gine, la premiire balance est faite par Phydon, tyran d'Argos, la premidre iclipse de soleil est calcuUe par les chinois, il y a trois cent douze ans qu' Oreste, accuse par les £u- minides devant TAr^opage, a M absous. H^iode vient de mourir, Homire, s*il vit encore, a cent ans, Lycurgue, voyageur pensif, rentre k Sparte, et Ton aper^oit au fond de la sombre nu^e de I'Orient le char de feu qui emporte £lie; c'est dans ce moment-lit que L6ir— -Lear— vit et rigne sur les lies t^nibreuses. Jonas, Holo* pheme, Dracon, Solon, Thespis, Nabuchodonosor, Anaximine qui inventera les signes du zodiaque, Cyrus, Zorobabel, Tarquin, Pythagore, Eschyle,sont k naltre; Coriolan, Xerxte, Cincinnatus, Pdridds, Socrate, Brennus, Aristote, Timol^on, D^mosth^ne, Alexandre, Epicure, Annibal, sont des larves qui attendent leur heure d'entrer parmi les hommes; Judas Macchab^e, Viriate, Popilius, Jugurtha, Mithridate, Marius et Sylla, C6sar et Pomp6e, CUop&tre et Antoine, sont le lointain avenir, et au moment od Lear est roi de Bretagne et d'Islande, il s'icoulera huit cent quatre-vingt-quinze ans avant que Virgile disc : Penitus ioio dvtnsoi orhe Britannosy et neuf cent dnquante ans avant que S6ndque disc : Ultima Thule. Les pictes et les celtes — ^les ^cossais et les anglais,— sont tatouis. Un peau-rouge d*ik present donne une vague id6e d'un anglais d*alors. C'est ce cr^puscule que choisit Shakespeare; large nuit commode au r6ve oti cet inventeur k Taise met tout ce que bon lui semble, ce roi Lear, et puis on roi de France, un due Bourgogne, un due de Comouailles, un due d' Albany, un comte de Kent et un comte de Glocester. Que lui importe votre histoire k lui qui a I'humaniti? D'ailleurs il a pour lui la l^nde, qui est une science, elle aussi; et,
2E
466 APPENDIX
aatant qne I'lustoire peut-etre, mais % un aatre point de vue, une ▼6rit6. Shakespeare est d'acoord avec Walter Mapes, archidiacre d'Oxford, c'est bien quelque chose; U admet, depuis Brutus jnsqn'a Cadvalla, les quatre-vingt-dix-neuf rois cdtes qui ont pr6c6d6 le scandinave Hengist et le saxon Horsa; et puisqu'il croit li Mulmutius, 4 Cinigisil, it Ctolulfe, li Cassibelan» it Cymbeline, ii Cynulphus, it Arviragus, li Gui* deritts, it Escuin, it Cudred, li Vortigeme, it Arthur, it Uther Pendragon, il a bien le droit de croire au roi Lear, et de cr6er Cordelia. Ce terrain adopts, ce lieu de scdne dd* signi, cette fondation creuste, il prend tout, et 11 bAtit son oeuvre. Construction inoule. II prend !a tyrannic, dont il fera plus tard la faiblesse, Lear; il prend la trahison, Edmund; il prend le d^ouement, Kent; il prend Tingratitude qui commence par une caresse, et 11 donne li ce monstre deux t6tes, Goneril, que la liftgende appelle Gomerille, et Regane, que la Ugende appelle RagaO; il prend la paternity ; il prend la royaut6; il prend la fdodalitd; il prend Tambition; il prend la dimence qu'il partage en trois, et il met en prteence trois fous, le bouffon du roi, fou par metier, Edgar de Glocester, fou par prudence, le roi, fou par misire. C'est au sommet de cet entassement tragique qu'il dresse et penche Cordelia.
II y a de formidables toun de cathidrales, comme, par exemp^e, la giralda de Seville, qui semblent faites tout entidres, avec leun spirales, lenrs escaliers, lenrs sculptures, leurs caves, leurs 0Gecttms,leur8 cellules adriennes, leurs chambres sonores, leurs cloches, leur plainte, et leur masse, et leur fldche, et toute leur dnormitd, pour porter un ange ouvrant sur leur cime ses ailes dor6es. Tel est ce drame, U ReiLear,
Le pdre est le prttexte de la fille. Cette admirable crtotion humaine, Lear, sert de support it cette ineffable crdation divine, Cordelia. Tout ce chaos de crimes, de vicesi de d6mences et de misdres, a pour raison d'etre Tapparition splendide de la verttt. Shakespeare, portant Cordelia dans sa pensie, a cr6£ cette trag6die comme un dieu qui, ayant une aurore & placer, ferait tout exprds un monde pour I'y mettre.
Et quelle figure que le pire I quelle caryatide I Cest Thorame courbd. II ne fait que changer de fardeaux, toujours plus lourds. Plus le vieillard faiblit, plus le poids augmente. II vit sous la surcharge. H porte d'abord Tempire, puis I'ingratitude, puis I'isolement, puis le disespoir, puis la faim, et la soif, puis la folic, puis toute la nature. Les nudes viennent sur sa tdte, les fordts I'accablent d'ombre, Touragan s'abat sur sa nuque, I'orage plombe son manteau, la pluie pdse sur ses dpaules, il marche plid et hagard, comme s'il avait les deux genoux de la nuit sur son dos. £perdu et immense, il jette aux bourrasques et aux grftles ce cri dpique : Pourquoi me hatssez- votts, tempdtes? pourquoi me persdcutez-vous ? Vom n*ites pas nus filUu Et alors, c'est fini, la lueur s'dteint, la raison se ddcourage et s'en va, Lear est ea enfance. Ah ! il est enfant, ce vieillard. Eh bien ! il lui faut une mire. Sa fille paralt. Son unique fille, Cordelia. Car les deux autres, Regane et Goneril, ne sont plus sea filles que de la quantity ndcessaire pour avoir droit au nom de parricides.
Cordelia approche. — Me reconnawn'VOUSt sire t^-Vous ttes tm esprU^je U sais^ rdpond le vieillard, avec la clairvoyance sublime de Tdgarement. A paitir de ce moment, Tadorable Allaitement commence. Cordelia se met it nourrir cette vielle Ame ddsespdrde qui se mourait d'inanition dans la haine. Cordelia nourrtt Lear d'amour, et le courage revient; elle le nourrit de respect, et le sourire revient; elle le nourrit d'esp6rance, et la oonfiance revient; elle le nourrit de sagesse, et la raison re* vient. Lear, convalescent, remonte, et, de degrd en degrd, retrouve la vie. L'enfaUt redevient un vieillard, le vieillard redevient un homme. Et le voiU heurenx, ce miserable. C'est sur cet dpanouissement que fond la catastrophe. Hdlas, U y a dei traitres, il y a des parjures, il y a des meurtriers. Cordelia meurt. Rien de phn
TATE'S VERSION A^7
navraat. Le vieUIard s'^onne, il ne comprend plus, et, embrassant ce cadavre, Q expire. H meurt sur cette morte. Ce d^sespoir supreme lui est 6pargn6 de rester demure elle parmi les vivants, pauvre ombre, t&tant la place de son CGeiir vid6 et cberchant son toe emport^e par ce doux £tre qui est parti. O Dieu, ceux que vons aimez, vous ne les laissez pas suxvivre.
Demeurer apris Tenvolement de Tange, 6tre le pire orphelin de son enfant, dtie Toeil qui n'a plus la lumi^re, £tre le coeur sinistre qui n'a plus la joie, ^tendre les mains par moments dans robscuritd, et t&cher de ressaisir quelqu'un qui 6tait la, od done est-elle ? se sentir oublii dans le depart, avoir perdu sa raison d'etre ici-oas, £tre d^ormais un homme qui va et vient devant un sepulchre, pas re^u, pas admis; c'est line sombre destin^e. Tu as bien fait, poete, de tuer ce vieillard.
NAHUM TATE'S VERSION
An edition like the present would be incomplete without some notice of the version of King Lear which held the stage for a hundred and sixty years, and in which all our greatest actois, Garrick, Kemble, Kean, and others, won applause, and which was discarded only about forty years ago. It is so much easier to blame than to praise that we echo very readily the anathemas that are now heaped on the name of Tate. But really Tate was little to blame ; he was merely the exponent of the age in which he lived, and no genius. ' You must think of this, look you, the worm will * do his kind.' We must remember, too, that L^ar is the sublimest tragedy ever written, so awful in its grandeur that it almost passes into a realm by itself. Charles Lamb avers that it ought not to be acted at all, and in thus saying he exonerates Tate, to a certain extent, in the very breath with which he condemns him. Tate's Version is better than none; if we had not Shakespeare's play to read, surely it were better to listen to Tate than not to know the play at all. There is more of Shakespeare in Tate's Version than there is of Tate.
At any rate, I cannot but think that others, however hard they may be upon Tate for his laughable attempts to be Shakespearian in his changes, will, like myself, be a little softened towards him after reading his Dedication ; a tone of reverence for Shake- speare runs through it that quite took me by surprise. It is as follows : To ray Esteemed Friend Thomas BoUUr, Esq; Sir, Yon have a natural Right to this Piece, since by your Advice I attempted the Revival of it with Alterations. Nothing but the Pow'r of your Persuasions, and my Zeal for all the Remains of Shakespear cou'd have wrought me to so bold an Undertaking. I found that the New-modelling of this Story wou'd force me sometimes on the difficult Task of making the chiefest Persons spesdc some- thing like their Character, on Matter whereof I had no Ground in my Author. Lear's real and Edgar's pretended Madness have so much of extravagant Nature (I know not how else to express it), as cou'd never have started but from our Shakespear^ s Creating Fancy. The Images and Language are so odd and surprizing, and yet so agreeable and proper, that whilst we grant that none but Shakespear could have form'd such Conceptions ; yet we are satisfied that they were the only Things in the World that ought to be said on those Occasions. I found the whole to answer you
468 APPENDIX
account of it, a Heap -of Jewels, unstrung, and unpolisht; yet so daxling in their Disorder, that I soon perceiv'd I had seiz'd a Treasure. 'Twas my good Fortune to light on one Expedient to rectify what was wanting in the Regularity and Probability of the Tale, which was to run through the whole, as Loue betwixt Edgar and Cor* delta; that never chang'd a Word with each other in the Original. This renden Cordelia* s Indifference, and her Father's Passion in the first Scene, probable. It likewise gives Countenance to Edgar' i Disguise, making that a generous Design that was before a poor Shift to save his Life. The Distress of the Story is evidently ' heightened by it ; and it particularly gave Occasion of a New Scene or Two, of more Success (perhaps) than Merit. This method necessarily threw me on making the Tale conclude in a Success to the innocent distrest Persons : Otherwise I must have incumbred the Stage with dead Bodies, which Conduct makes many Tragedies con- clude with unseasonable Jests. Yet was I wract with no small Fears for so bold a Change, till I found it well received by my Audience; and if this will not satisfy the Reader, I can produce an Authority that questionless will. Neither is it of io Trivial an Undertaking to make a Tragedy end f^^Rl^^ ka/fpily, for *tis more difficult to save than *tis to JCill; The Dagger p^y^, and Cup of Poison are ahoays in Readiness; hut to bring the Action to the last Extremity^ and then by probable means to recover All^ will require tht Art and Judgment of a Writer^ and cost him many a Pang in the Performance, I have one thing more to apologize for, which is that I have us'd less Quaintness of Expression even in the Newest Parts of this Play. I confess, 'twas Design in me» partly to comply with my Author's Style, to make the Scenes of a Piece, and partly to give it some Resemblance of the Time and Persons here Represented. This, Sir, I submit wholly to you, who are both a Judg and Master of Style. Nature had exempted you before you went Abroad from the Morose Saturnine Humour of our Country, and you brought home the Refinedness of Travel without the Affectation. Many faults I see in the following Pages, and question not but you will discover more; yet I will presume so far on your Friendship as to make the whole a Present to you, and Subscribe myself Your obliged Friend and humble Servant, N. Tate.
PROLOGUE
Since by Mistakes your best delights are made (For e'en your Wives can please in Masquerade), 'Twere worth our while, to have drawn you in this Day By a new Name to our old honest Play ; But he that did this Evenings Treat prepare Bluntly resolv'd before hand to declare Your Entertainment should be most old Fare. Yet hopes since in rich Shakespear*s soil it grew 'Twill relish yet, with those whose tasts are true, And his Ambition is to please a Few. If then this Heap of Flow'rs shall chance to wear Fresh beauty in the Order they now bear. Even this Shakespear's Praise; each rustick knows 'Mongst plenteous Flow'rs a Garland to Compose Which strung by this Course Hand may fairer show But 'twas a Power Divine first made 'em grow^
.}
TATE'S VERSION 46^
^Vhy should these Scenes lie hid, in which we find
What may at once divert and teach the Mind ;
Morals were always proper for the Stage,
But are ev'n necessary in this Age*
Poets must take the Churches Teaching Tirade,
Since Priests their Province of Intrigue invade;
But we the worst in this Exchange have got,
In vain our Poets Preach, whilst Churchmen Plot
|
THE PERSONS |
|
|
King Lear, |
Mr. Betterton. |
|
Gloster, |
Mr. Gillo. |
|
Kent, |
Mr. Watshire. |
|
Edgar, |
Mr. Smith. |
|
Bastard, |
Mr. Jo. Williams. |
|
Cornwall, |
Mr. Norris. |
|
Albany, |
Mr. Bowman. |
|
Gentleman Vsher, |
Mr. Jevon. |
|
Goneril, |
Mrs. Shadwel. |
|
Regan, |
Lady Slingsby. |
|
Cordelia, |
Mrs.Bany« |
When the play opens Gloucester is already convinced of Edgar's treacheiy, ana Edmund is in high favour. As the royal procession is entering, before the diidsion of the kingdom, Edgar,
< speaking to Cordelia at Entrance,' declares his love for her, and is assured by her that his love is returned, so ardently, indeed, that Cordelia's blunt replies to her lather are prompted, not so much by detestation of her sisters' hypocrisy, as by a de* sire to avoid marriage with Burgundy :
* Cordelia, [Aside] Now comes my trial. How am I disdtft. Thai must with cold speech tempt the chorrick king Rather to leave me Dowerless ; then condemn me To loath'd embraces.'
Cordelia is cast off, and Burgundy refuses her; of the King of France there is no mention throughout the play. Kent is banished.
Now that Cordelia is in disgrace Edgar renews his suit, but Cofdelia, true to the fashionable propriety of the last century, at once becomes coquettish, and thinks she must test Edgar's love by coldness, and alleges that she is now no longer ' the darling
< of a king.' Whereupon Edgar :
' Thus Msyesty takes most State in Distress I How are we tost on Fortune's fickle floud I The Wave that with surprising kindness brou^t The dear wreck to my arms, has snatched it back* And left me mourning on the baiien shear.'
The Bastard persuades Edgar to conceal himself, and then shows the forged letter to Gloucester; and here Tate so polishes up one of Shakespeare's 'jewels' as to make 40
470 APPENDIX
it dazzling; in the original Gloucester says to Edgar 'wind me into him.' Thus Tate:
'wind me into him.
That I may bite the Traytor** Heart, and fold
His bleeding Eatrals on my vengciiil arm.'
The version now follows the original with tolerable fidelity, through Kent's en« trance, in disguise, on Lear's service, und through Lear's curse on Goneril, of course, as is well known, with the omission of the FooL
In the next Act the Bastard induces Edgar to fly, and Gloucester in his rage tells the Bastard to ' pursue the villain And bring him peace-meal to me.'
Kent and Oswald arrive at Gloucester's castle and have their quarrel ; Kent calls Oswald, <Thou Escence^Bottle ! ' and offers to 'tread the muss-cat into mortar.' Kent is put in the stocks.
In the next scene Edgar enteis, and, after uttering the first four or five lines of his soliloquy, * I heard myself proclaimed,' &c., says :
—How easie now, ' 'Twere to defeat the malice of my Trale, And leave the griefs on my sword's reeldng Point: But Love detains me from Death's peacelul Cell, StiU whispering me, CorMia't in distress ; Unkind as she is, I cannot see her wretched* But must be near to wait upon her Fbrtune. Who knows but the white Minute yet may come. When Edgar may do service to Cordelia, That channing hope still ties me to the Oar Of painful Life, and makes me to submit To th' humblest shifks to keep that Life a Foot; Mv iace I will besmear,' &c.
Again, the original is adhered to tolerably close throughout the rest of the AcL
\Vhen Regan says, 'What need one?' and Lear, in the original, replies in those
musical words of saddest pathos, ' Oh, reason not the need,' we have instead in the
Version :
' Rtgan. What need one ?
Ltar, Bloud I Fire I here— Leprosies and bhiest Flagoet I Room, RX>m for Hell to belch her Horrors up And drench the Grctt in a stream of Fire ; Heaik how th' Infemals eccho to my rage Their Whips and Snakes.
Regan, How lewd a thing is Passion I
CpneriL So old and stomachfuL'
The Third Act opens with Lear, demented, on the heath, and again the original is followed in his speeches : ' Blow winds and bunt your cheeks,' &c.
In the next scene the Bastard receives love letters from both Regan and Goneril, and to him enters Gloucester, who reveals that he is plotting to restore Lear. Aa Gloucester is going out he is met by Cordelia, while the * Bastard observes them at a < distance.'
'Cord, Turn, Gloster, Turn, by the sacred Pow*!! I do conjure you, give my griefi a Hearing, You must : you shall, nay I am sure you will. For you were always styl'd the Just and Good. Cloxt. What would'st thou. Princess ? rise and speak thy grleft* Cord. Kay, you shall promise to redress 'em too Or here i'll kneel forever : I entreat
TATES VERSION 47^
'Thy succour for a Father, and a king, An injured Father and an iiqur'd king.
BmU O Charming Sorrow I how her Tears adom her. Like Dew on Flow'rs, but she b vertuous. And I must quench this hopeless Fire i' th' kindling. . Glosi, Consider, Princess,
For whom thou beas'st* '^^ f°^ ^^ ^*"S that wronged Thee. Cord. O name not that ; he did not, cou'd not wrong me. Nay, muse not, Clottir, for it is too likely This Injur'd king e'er this, is past your Aid, And gone distracted with his Savage Wrongs. Btut. rn gaze no more,— and yet my Eyes are charm'd. Cord. Or,whatif itbeWone? As 'tis too probable, this furious Night Has pierc'd his tender Body, the bleak Winds And cdd Rain chill'd, or Lightning struck him Dead; If it be so, your promise b dbcharg'd, And I hare only one poor Boon to beg. That you'd convey me to hb breathless Trunk, With my torn Robes to wrap hb hoary Head, With my torn Hair to bind hb Hands and Feet Then with a shqwr'r of Tears To wash hb Qay-smear'd Cheeks, and dye beside him.
ClotU Rbe, fair Cordtlia, thou hast Piety Enough t* attone for both thy sisters Crimes. I have already plotted to restore My Injur'd Master, and thy Vertue teUs me We shall succeed, and suddenly. \fixlt.
Cord. Dispztdk, Aranio, Provide me a Digube, well instantly Co seek the King and bring him some relleC
Aranie. How, Madam I Are yoo ignorant Of what your impious Sisters have decreed? Immediate Death for any that relieve him. Cord, I cannot dread the Fiiries In this case. Ar, In such a Night as thbT Consider, Madam, For many miles about there's scarce a Bush To shelter in.
Cord. Therefore no shelter for the King, And more our Charity to find him out : What have not Women dax'd for vicious LoveT And we'll be shining proofs that they can dare For Piety as much. Blow Winds, and Lightnings foil. Bold In my Virgin Innocence, I'll file My Royal Father to relieve, or dye. [Arft.
Batt. Provide me a digube, well Instandy
Go seek the King : ha 1 ha 1 a lucky change
That Vertue which I fear'd would be mv hindrance.
Has prov'd the Bond to my Design ;
I'll bribe two Ruffians shall at dbtance follow.
And seise 'em In some desert Place ; and there
Whibt one reuins her t'other shall return
T* Inform me where she's Lodg'd ; I'll be dbgub'd too.
Whibt they are poching for me, I'll to the Duke
With these Dbpatches,'&c.,&c. {ExU,
In the next Scene we have Lear before the hovel where he meets Mad Tom, that cats the ' Wall-nut and th'e Water-nut/ The original is again followed, but. be it always remembered, with the omission of the Fool.
Lear, Edgar, Kent, and Gloucester depart, and Cordelia and her maid, Aranto.
47^ APPENDIX
ent^r, and immediately aAer the Bastard's two ruffians. * They sieze Cordelia and *^ Arante, who shriek oat.' Now comes Edgar's ' white minute/ and he rushes in, and dying to the Ruffians, * Avaunt ye Bloud-hounds ! ' < Drives 'em with hb Quarter-
* staff/ and they run off bawling, * The Devil, the Devil I ' Edgar recognizes the Princess, but is obliged to keep up his disguise, with, < Who relieves poor Tom^ that 'sleeps on the Kettle, with the Hedg-pig for his Pillow?
' IVkOst Smug ply'd the Bellows She tnickt with her Fellows, The Freckle-fac'd Mab Was a Blouze, and a Drab, Yet SmUkin made (7^rM jeaknis/
He does not hold out long, however, but soon reveals himself, and expluns the reason for his disguise, not forgetting to refer to her injunction upon him to trouble her upon the Theme of love no more. This proves too much for Cordelia, and she
exclaims:
* 0>me to my Arms, thou dearest, best of Men, And take the kindest Vows, that e'er were spoke By a protesting Maid.
Edgar, Is 't possible T
Cord, By the dear Vital Stream that baths my Heart*
fwhich, by the way, reminds us of Gray's Bard,"]
* These hallow'd Rags of thine, and naked Vertue, These abject Tassels, these fantastick Shzeds, (Ridiculous ev'n to the meanest Qown)
To me are dearer than the richest Pomp Of purple Monarchs.
£di»r. Generous, charming Maid/ &c., &e.
And the Scene closes with Edgar's offer to protect the two women while they re* tire to the hovel for the night.
' Meanwhile the Stars shall dart thdr kindest Beams, And Angels visit my CordtHa't Dreams.' [Exnmi,
In the next Scene Gloucester's eyes are put out, and the unfortunate nobleman finds relief at the close, in a long speech bewailing his loss of sight :
* No more to view the Beauty of the Spring,
Nor see the Face of Kindred, or of Friend/ &c., &c
But he resolves upon revenge, by exhibiting himself to the crowd, and enlisting their pity for himself and the King, and then, when his mission is accomplished, he will throw himself from some precipice on ' the ragged Flint below,
^Whence my freed Soul to her bright Sphere shall fly. Through boundless Orbs, eternal Rei^ons spy. And like the Sun, be all one glorious Eye.'
The opedng of the Fourth Act finds * Edmund and Regan amoronsly Seated, list-
* ening to Musick/ Mutual vows are exchanged, and before Edmund depatts he gives Regan * a happy Image to lodge in that breast where all his Treasure lies [PuUi^g *oui afieture^ drops a Note,* Of course this is Goneril's note, and Regan*s jealousy b confirmed. An Officer enters, who announces a great rebellion, stirred up by Gloucester, whom we find in the next scene^ led to Dover by Edgar, but on the way
TAXES VERSION 473
they meet Kent and Cordelia; the latter is filled with grief that she has been even remotely the cause of Gloucestez's misfortuney bnt Gloucester forgives her, and bids her * take a dark Man's blessing.'
Kent is urged to assume command of the rebellion which is now afoot» and leaves for that purpose with Cordelia. The scene on the supposed Cliff of Dover is fol* lowed closely, and the description of the Qiff is exact, except the omission of the line, *That on the unnumbered idle pebble chafes.' Lear enters and raves as in the original; is found by Cordelia's messengers. Oswald enters, and is slain by Bdgar, and Goneril's letter found.
In the next scene ' Lear is asleep on a couch; Cordelia, and attendants standing ^by him.' The original is retuned quite closely until Lear says, * I fear I am not ^in my perfect mind,' when Cordelia exclaims: 'Nay, then farewel to Patience; 'witness for me Ye mighty Pow'rs I ne'er comphun'd till now I ' When Lear says, *I think that I^dy To be my Child Cordelia,' Cordelia replies, * O my dear, dear •Father r
^lAar, Be your Tears wett Yes faith ; pray do not Weep, I know I have siVn thee Cause, and am so humbled With Crosses since, that I cou'd ask Forsiveness of thee, were it possible That thou cou'dst grant it ; but I'm well assur*d Thou canst not ; therefore do I stand thy Justice; If thou hast Pobon for me I will drink it Blest thee and dye.
Cord. O pity. Sir, a bleeding Heart, and ceasa This killing Language.
Lear, Tell me. Friends, where am 1 1
GSm/. In your own kingdom. Sir.
Xmt. Do not abuse me.
Ctnt, Be comforted, good Madam, for the Violence Of his Distemper's past; we'll lead him in. Nor trouble him, till he is better settled. Wil't please you. Sir, walk into freer Air?
L*ar» You must bear with me, I am Old and Foolish. \Thtf iiodhim ^,
Cord, The Gods restore you.— Heark, I hear afar The beaten Dnun, Old Ktntt a Man of 'a. WonL OfbranAvm
like the fierce Thunderer's, when the Earth-born Sons Storm'd Heav'n to fight this Injur'd Father's Battle I That I cou'd shift my Sex, and die me deep In his opposer's Blood I But as I may. With Women's Weapons, Piety and Pray'rs, I'll aid his Cause.— You never-erring Gods Fight on his Side, and Thunder on his Foes Such Tempests as his poor ag'd Head sustain'd; Your Image suffers when a Monarch bleeds. 'Tis your own Cause, for that your Succors bring, Rercnge your selves, and right an ii^ur'd King.*
Emd tfih* Fourth Ad.
The next Act opens with a short scene between Goneril and her * Poisoner,^ In which the former is assured that the banquet and the poison for her 'imperious * Sister' are ready. Exeunt Then Edmund, alone in his tent, exults in language somewhat too warm for modem taste over the success of his amours with the two sisters. In the next scene, after Edgar has left Gloucester in the shadow of a tree while he goes off to the fight, Gloucester soliloquises thus i 40 *
474 APPENDIX
* The Fight grows hot ; the whole War's now at WoiIe, And the goax'd Battel bleeds in every Vein. Whilst Dnuns and Tnunpett drown loud Slaaghter't Roir| Where's Gloster now that us'd to head the Fray, And scour the Ranks where deadliest danger lay/
And some ten or fifteen more lines quite as despairing aiid quite as tedious. Can these be the lines which Spedding (see antk^ P* 313) says were spoken, in Macready's version, by Gloucester while the battle was in progress? I have searched in vain through Macready's Journal for any notice of hb stage-arrangement in this respect. Edgar returns with the news that the battle is lost, and Albany and Goneril, &c. enter with Lear and Cordelia prisoners. Goneril in an Aside tells a captain to dis- patch the prisoners, and Edgar enten in disguise and impeaches Edmund of treason^ and challenges him to fight. All depart to witness the duel, and leave Kent and Cordelia guarded.
O Kent, Cordelia I You are the only'Pair that I e'er wrong'd And the Just Gods have made you Witnesses Of my Digraoe, the very shame of Fortune To see me chain'd and shackled at these yean I Yet were you but Specutors of my Woes, Kot feUow-sufferers, all were well I
Cbn£ This Unguage, Sir, adds yet to our Affltctloa.
L4ar, Thou Kent, didst head the Troops that fought my Battel, Expos'd thy Life and Fortunes for a Master That had (as I remember) banisht Thee,
JUni, Pardon me. Sir, that onoe I broke your orders,' &e.
On learning that Kent had followed him as a servant Lear weeps and almost faints, but recovers, and bids the guards conduct them to prison, where they * will sit alone « like Birds i' th' Cage,' &c.y and departs, asserting that
* Together we'll out-toil the spl^ of Hell And dye the Wonders of the World; Away.'
The duel between Edgar and Edmund takes place, after much boasting on both sides of their legitimate and ill^timate births. Edmund falls, and Regan and Gon« eril avow their love and jealousy over his bleeding body. Goneril reveals her attempt to poison Regan at the banquet on the previous evening, and expresses a desire to see
* How wen that blasted Beauty will become Congealing Blood, and Death's convulsive Paxigi.'
Whereupon Regan retorts that she has dona the same thing by Goneril, and poisoned her at her own banquet. Edmund stops what he terms their ' untimely strife,' and is borne out in a resigned frame of mind, sustained by the reflection x
' Who would not chus^, like me, to yidd his Breath T* have Rival Queens contend for him in Death.
In the next and last scene Lear is discovered in prison asleep, with his head in Cordelia's lap. Cordelia apostrophises the sleeping king, and wonders what fate has seized Edgar * in this general Wreck*'
'O Gods! a sudden doom o'erwhdms me, and the Image Of Death o'er-spreds the Place.— Ha t Who are These t
TATES VERSION 475
BtU^r CapUln tmd Officers viUk C»rd»,
' Capi. Now, Sin, dispatch, already are you paid la part, the best of your Reward's to come.
Lear, Charse, charge upon their Flank, their last Wing haltk Push, push the Battel, and the Day's our own. Their Ranks are broke, down with A&^uiy, Who holds my Hands?— O thou deceiving Sleep, I was this very Minute on the Chace ; And now a Prisoner here.— What mean the Slaves f You will not murther me?
Card, Hdp, Earth and Heaven I For your Souls sake, dear Sirs, and for the Gods.
OJSc, No Tears, good lady, no pleading against Gold and PrefenMaL Come, Sirs, malce ready your Cords.
Cord, You, Sir, ru seise. You have a humane Form, and if no Pray'rs Can touch your Soul to spare a poor King's Life, If there be anything that you hold Dear, By that I beg you to dispatch me first.
Cdpt, Comply with her Request ; dispatch her First
Lear» Off Hell-hounds, by the Gods I charge you spare her. 'TIS my CordtUa, my true pious Daughter ; No pity ?— ^Nay, then take an old Mans Vengeance.
[Smtichet a Partisan, andstriket dowm two ^ ikem ; thi nti pUt Cordelia, and tnm on Ann, Entor Edgar and Albany.
Sd!f, Death I Hell I ye Vultures, hold your Impious Hands, Or take a speedier Death than you wou'd give.
Ca^t, By whose Command t
Ed^, Behold the Duke, your Lord.
A&, Guards, seize those Instruments of Cruelty.
Cord, VLy E4gar,0\i\
Ed^, My Dtur Cordo/ia t Lucky was the BCinutA Of our Approach, the Gods have welgh'd our Suff'rings ; W* are past the Fire, and now must shine to Ages. ' Geni. Look here, my Lord, see where the generous Klag Has slain two of 'em.
Zear, Did I not. Fellow r I've seen the Day, with my good biting Faulchlon I cou'd have made 'em skip; I am Old now. And these vOe Crosses spoil me ; out of Brttth t Fie, Oh I quite out of Breath, and spent.
A^. Bring in old Xoni: and, Edgar, guide you hidier Your Father, whom you said was near. {Ex, Edgsr*
He may be an Ear-Witness at the least Of our proceedings. [Kent h^otigki in Air*
Liar, Who are you ? My Eyes are none o' th' Best, I'U tdl you strelght ; Oh Albany I Well, Sir, we are your Captives, And you are come to see Death pass upon us. Why thb Delay f— or Is't your Highness pleasttrt To gives us first the Tortour T Say ye so t Why here's old Kent and I, as tough a Pair As e're bore Tyranu Stroke :— But my CordtUa, My poor Cordelia here, O pity I—
Aa, Take off their Chains.— Thou iqjur'd Mi^Jef ty. The Wheel of Fortune now has made her Circle, And blessings yet stand 'twlxt thy Grave and Thee.'
Albany goes on to tell Lear of the wickedness of Regan and Goneril, and tliit he has just left Edmund mortally wounded, and continues ;
476 APPENDIX
* Since then my Ii^arles, Ltar, fidl in with ThlM* I hare resolv'd the same Redress for both.
Ktnt, What says my Lord T
Cerd, Speak, for me thought I heard The charming rolce of a descending God.
Alb, The Troops by Edmund rais'd, I have disbanded I Those that remain are under my Conuiand. IVhat Comfort may be brought to chear your Ago, And heal your Savage Wrongs, shall be apply'd; For to your Migesty we do resign Your Kingdom, save what part your Self conferred On us In Marriage.
Ktni. Hear you that, my Liege t
Card, Then they are Gods, and Vertue Is their CavBb
Lmt, Is 't possible? Let the Spheres stop their Course, the Sun malce halt^ The Winds be husht, the Seas and Fountains rest ; All Nature pause, and listen to the Change. Wher^ Is my AWi/, my Cajutf
KnU, Here, my Liege.
Liar, Why I have News, that will recall thy Y011& % Ha I Didst thou hear 't, or did th' Inspbing Gods ^¥hispertomeaIonet Old ZMr shall bo AKIng again.
Ktnt. The Prince that Like a God has Pow'r, has tald It.
Lear, Cordelia then shall be a Queen, mark that : Cordelia shall be a Queen : Winds catch the Soand« And bear It on your rosie Wing;i to Heav'a. Cordelia It a Queen.
Ri'Owter Edgar twM Gloster.
Alb. Look, Sir, where Pious Bdgar comet. Leading his Eye-less Father : O my LSege I His wondrous Story will deserve your Ldsure; What he has done and suffered for your Sake, What for the fair CordeUofs,
Cloit, Where is my LSege T Conduct me to hit Knect, to ft tils second Birth of Empire ; my dear Edgar Has, with himself, reveal'd the King's blest Restauntko. Lear, My poor dark Gloster, Clott," O let me kiss that once more Sceptred Hand I Lear, Hold, Thou mistak'st the Majesty, kneel here i Cordelia has our Pow'r, Cordelia^ e Queen. Speak, is not that the noble Suff'ring Edgar f CloH, My pious Son, more dear than my lost Eyet I Lear, I wrong'd him too, but here 's the fair Amendt* Edg, Your Leave, my Liege, for an unwelcome Messigi9| Edmund (but that 's a Trifle) is explr'd ; What more will touch you, your Imperious Daughten • ConerilKud haughty Regan^ both are Dead, Each by the other polson'd at a Banquet. This, Dying, they oonfest. Cord, O &tal Period of in-goveni'd Life I Lear, Ingratefid at they were, my Heart fedt yet A Pang of Nature for their wretched Fall ;— But, Edgar, t defer thy Joys too long : Thou terv'dst distrest Cordelia : take her Crown'd : Th' Imperial Grace fresh blooming on her Brow ; Kay Cloetor, Thou hast here a Father's Right, Thy helping Hand t* heap Blessings on their Heads* Koni, Old AWi/ throwt In his hearty Wishes tOQw
TATES VERSION 477
*E4C' The Gods and Yon too lai^ely reoompeBM What I have done ; th« Gift strikes Merit dumb.
C^rd, Nor do I blush to own my self o'er-pald For all my suff'rings past.
Cloti, Now, gentle Gods, give (;/!Mfer his discharse.
tear. No, CUttfr Thou hast business yet for Lift ; Thou, Kmi, and I, retir'd to some dose Cell, Will gently pass our short reserves of Time In calm Reflections on our Fortunes past Cheered with Relation of the prosperous Reign Of this celestial Pair ; Thus our Remains Shall in an even Course of Thought be past Enjoy the present Hour, nor fear the Last.
Edg, Our drooping Country now erects her Head, Peace spreads her balmy Wings, and Plenty blooms* Divine Cordelia, all the Gods can Witness How much thy Love to Empire I prefer I Thy bright Example shall convince the World (Whatever Storms of Fortune are decreed) That Truth and Vertue shall at last succeed.' [J5jr. Ommm^
Hi« Epilogue, spoken by Mrs Bany, concludes with :
' This Play's Reviver humbly do's admit Your abs'Iute Pow'er to damn hb part of it : But still so many Master-Touches shine Of that vast Hand that first laid this Design That in great Skakes^ar^e Right, He's bold to say» If you like nothing you have seen this Day, The Play your Judgment damns, not you the Play/
Addison, in The Spectator (No. 40, April 16, 171 1), says, « Kit^ Lear is an admir- able tragedy • • • as Shakespeare wrote it; but as it is reformed according to the chimerical notion of poetical justice, in my humble opinion it has lost half its beauty.'
Davies {JDram, Mise.^ ii, 212) : Though Tate's alterations are, in many places, mean and unworthy to be placed so near the composition of the best dramatic author, it must be confessed, that in the conduct of some Scenes, whether contrived by him* self or hinted to him by his friend Dryden, he is not unhappy. One situation of his is particularly affecting; where the Scene opens and discovera Lear, with his head on Cordelia*s lap, and Uie king in his sleep, attacking the forces of his enemies. The bringing that action forward to the audience, which is only related in the old play, of Lear's killing the two soldiers employed to murder him and Cordelia, is a circum- stance that gives pleasure and exultation to the spectators. The half-breathing and panting of Garrick, with a look and action which confessed the infirmity of old age, greatly heightened the picture. To speak in Shakespeare's phrase, this incident will be hcked in thi memory of those who have the pleasure to remember it Barry, in this Scene, was a lively copy of Garrick's manner, and had the superior advantage of a more important figure. Who could possibly think of depriving an audience, almost exhausted with the feelings of so many terrible Scenes, of the inexpressible delight which they enjoyed, when the old king in rapture cried out^—
« Old Lear shall bo a King again't
478 APPENDIX
Arthur Murphy, whom Dr Johnson pronounced a very jndidoiis critic, thus speaks of Tate's Version {Grays- Inn youmal, \\, 222, 1754): The close of this Tktigedy is fall of Terror and Commiseration, and our great Poet has here given at a Death, which is not often to be found in the Play-house Bill of Mortality, tw., the Death of Lear without the Dagger or the Bowl. But, perhaps, alter all the Heart-piercing Sensations which we have before endured through the whole Piece, it would be too much to see this actually performed on the Stage; from the actor whom I have already named [Garrick] I am sure it would, though I should be glad to see the Experiment made, convinced at the same Time that the Play, as it is altered^ will always be most agreeable to an Audience, as the Circumstances of Lear*s Res- toration, and the virtuous Edgar's Alliance with the amiable Cordelia, must always call forth those gushing Tears which are swelled and ennobled by a virtuous Joy.
Macready in his Jiemmiscenees (p. 697, New York, 1875) says that 'Tate's *Kmg Lear was the only acting copy from the date of its pctDduction until the res- ' toration of Shakespeare's tragedy at Covent Garden in 1838. Previously to that, ' I think, in the year 1823, or a little later, the play, Tate's, was acted by Kean, with
* the last Scene of the original restored. I believe the elder Colman put out an
• alteration, but I question whether it was acted; certainly it did not hold its place « on the stage.*
LIST OP EDITIONS COLLATED IN THE TEXTUAL NOTES
Tk^ Firsi QuarU (< The Fide Bull.*
Ashbee*s Facsimile) TAe Second Quarto (*N. Butter')
The First Folio
The Second FoUo
The Third Quarto (Jane Bell's Ed)
The Third Folio
The Fourth Folio
ROWE (First Edition) RowE (Second Edition) • • Pope (First Edition) Pope (Second Edition) . • Theobald (First Edition) Theobald (Second Edition)
Hazoisr
Warburton
Johnson
Capsll
JENNENS •• •• •• ••
Johnson and Stbevens • • Johnson and Steevens •• Johnson and Steevens • • Malonb
ECCLES • • • • • • • •
Steevens • • • • • • • •
Rann
Reed's Steevens
Reed's Steevens
Boswell's Malonb Singer (First Edition) • • Knight (First Edition) . • Coluer (First Edition) • • Delius (First Edition) Hudson (First Edition) . • Singer (Second Edition) • • Dyce (First Edition) Collier (Second Edition)
Staunton
Richard Grant White • •
1608
1608
1623
1633
1655
X664
168s
1709
1714
1723
Popeii] 1728
Theob. i] 1733
Theob. ii] 1740
^Han.] 1743
;Warb.] . , • • . • 1747
Johns.] • . • . . . 1765
;Cap.] (?)I768
Jen.J •• •• •• •• 177^
;Steev.'73] 1773
Steev.'78] 1778
rO. .g^j yj^^
Steev. Mai.]
:ec.] .
Steev.] Rann] . Reed ' Reed'
Var. or Bos.] Sing.i] 'Knt. i] "CoU. i] Del. i]
.. 1790
.. 1792
.. 1793
W1794
•• 1803
.. 1813
. • 1821
.. 1826
(?) 1841
.. 1843
.. 1854
r. 1856
.. 1856
,. 1857
.. 1858
». i860
»• I86I
479
480 EDITIONS COLLATED IN TEXTUAL NOTES
The Globe EdiHon (Clark and
Wright) [Glo.] 1864
Charles and Mary CowDEN Clarkb [Clarke] •• •• (?)i864 The Cambridge Edition (Clark and
Wright) [Cam.] 1865
Halliwell (Folio Edition) .. .. [Hal.] 1865
Knight (Second Edition) . . . . [Knt, ii] • • « • . . 1865
Keightlev [Ktly.] 1865
Dyce (Second Edition) • • . . [Dyce ii] 1866
Hudson (School Edition) . . . . [Huds.] 1871
Delius (Third Edition) • . . . [Del. ii] 1872
MoBERLY (Rugby Edition) . . . . [Mob.] 1876
V^.ALXii&V^KiGWT (Clarendon Edition) [Wr.] 1877
Collier (Third Edition) . . . . [Coll. m\ 1877
Schmidt [S<^-] i87Q
The Agreement of the Folios is indicated by the symbol FT; that of Q. and (^ byQq.
The sign + after Ff, or F^ indicates the agreement of Rows, Pope, Theobald. Hanmeb, Warbu&ton, and Johnson.
The same sign after Glo. indicates the agreement of the Globe Edition^ the Caw^ bridge EdiHon^ and Wright's (Clarendon) Edition.
The abbreviation (subs.) indicates that the reading is substantially given, and that immaterial variations in spelling, punctuation, or stage-directions are disregarded
When Warbu&ton precedes Hanmer, in the Textual Notes, it indicates that Hanmer has adopted a suggestion of Warburton's.
When the Variorum of 1821 follows Malone's edition of 1790, Var. stands for both ; when they disagree, Bos,^ i. e., Boswell, stands for the fonner only.
Coll. (MS) refeis to Mr Coluer*s annotated F^
Quincy (MS) refeis to Mr Quincy's annotated F^.
The words d cet. after any reading indicate that it is the reading of dU Mn editions.
The frequent omission of the apostrophe in the F^ a peculiarity of that edition, is not generally noted.
An Emendation or Conjecture which is discussed in the Commentary is not repeated in the Textual Notes; nor is ' conj.' added to any name in the Textual Notes unless it happens to be that of an editor, in which case its omission would be misleading.
In the matter of punctuation the colon is used as it is in German, as equivalent to * namely.'
A dash at the close of a sentence, in the Text, indicates that the speaker changes his address from one person to another.
All citations of Acts, Scenes, and lines in Romeo and jfuliet^ Macbeth^ and ffamlet refer to this edition of those plays; in citations from other plays the Glob^ Edition is followed.
BIBUOGRAPHY OF KING LEAR
ENGLISH*
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
The true Qironide Historie of the life and death of King Lear, fte.
[The /^^^«// edition. See p. 354.] 1608
Lithographed by Ashbeb, l868. The true Chronide History of the life and death of King Lear, &c.
[The J\r.^«l»^ edition. Seep.355.] 1608
ReprinUdhy^TKBnxtix 'Twentf Flays/ &&, 1766W Lithographed by AsHBKB, 1867. True Chronide History of the life and death of King Lear, ftc [The
Jane BeUtdi^<m; see p. 358.] 1655
The History of King Lear, Acted at the Queen's Theatre. Revised
with Alterations, by N. Tate 1681
Jieprmtedin 1689, 1699, 1712, 1723, 1734, 1735, 1756, 1759, 1760^ at Goik, 1761, 1767, I77if 1779-
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
GQdon : Remarks on the Plays of Sh., p. 404. 1710
Considentions on the Stage in TVagedy, a Criticism on King Lear. • • • • 1731
Peck: Explanatory and Critical Notes. 1740
Upton: Obseryations,&c •• •• •• 1746
Edwards: Canons of Criticism. 174S
Other editions, 1750, 1753, 1758, 1765.
Upton: Observations, &c • 174S
Mrs Lennox : Shakespear Illustrated. '753-4
Grey : Critical, Historical, and Explanatory Notes. • 1753
Warton : The Adventurer, 8 December, etsef, •• 1754
Murphy: Grays-Inn Journal, vol. it, 15 June, etseq* • • 1754
Capell: Notes and Various Readings. 1759
Heath: ARevisal,&c 1765
King Leir, 1605 ; reprinted by Steevens in Tkoenty Plays, fte. • • • • 1766
ReprinUdhy Nichols 'm* Six Old Plt^s} &c., 1779.
• This English portion of the Bibliognphy was kindly prepared hy ny filcnd J. Paaxsa Nosiis Eaq. The titles of Shakespeare's complete Work* are omitted as snxpfamfOw— So. 41 2F 481
482 APPENDIX
Tjrrwhitt: Observations and Conjectares. •• • •1766
Colman's Acting Edition. •• • > •• ,« •• 1768
Another edition^ 1771. Mrs Montagu : An Essay. •• ••'•• •« • 1769
Other editions^ 1770, 1772, 1777, 1785, l8ia Jennens: King Lear, collated with old and modem editions. •• , . •• 1770 Jennens : A ^^ndication of King Lear as lately published, &C. • • • , 1772
Hopkins* Acting Edition. •• • • •• •• •• 1774
Griffith : The Morality of Shakespeare^s Drama. 1775
Capell : Notes and Various Readings • •• •• •. 1779
Ritson : Remarks, Critical and Illustrative. ' 1783
Davies : Dramatic Miscellanies. London, and Dublin. • • • • • • 1784
Richardson : Essays, &c • • • • • 1784
Other editions^ 1797, 1798, l8l2. Mason : Comments. London, and Dublin. • • • • • • • • • • 178$
Other editions, 1 798; Dublin, 1807.
Altered by Garrick. 1786
Eccles X Illustrations and Variorum Commentaries. • 1792
Jiepubtished, Dublin, 1793; London, 1794, 1801, 1805.
Ritson : Cursory Criticisms 1792
Players* Edition 1794
Ireland: < Miscellaneous Papers,' &c., < Kynge Leare.* 8vo, and Folio. • • 1796 Dubois: The Wreath. 1799
NINETEENTH CENTURY
Altered by Tate and revised by Kemble. London • • ? 1800
Waldron : The Shakespearian Miscellany (containing Downes's Hotcius Angii*
canus) 1802
Chedworth: Notes. 1805
Seymour: Remarks 1805
IX>uce : Illustrations 1807
Another edition, 1839. Lamb: Tales from Shakespeare 1807
Other editions, 1816, 1822, 1831, 1839, 1843, 1S49, 1^53* lS57f l358, 1876.
Pye : Comments on the Commentators. • 1807
Revised by Kemble 1808
Players' Edition. Manchester. • . • 1808
Mrs Inchbald's Edition 1808
Weston: Short Notes 1808
Croft : Annotations. York • •• •. 1810
Deverell : Discoveries in Hieroglyphics and other Antiquities. • • • • • • 18x3
Another edition, 18 16. Schlegel : Dramatic Art, &c. Trans, by BUck 1815
Other editions, 1840, 1846, 1861.
Becket: Shakespeare's Himself Again. 1815
Drake: Shakespeare and his Times • • • • • • • • 1817
Hazlitt: Characters of Shakespeare's Plays. • • • 1817
Other editions, x8i8, 1838, 1854, 1870. Nichols: Literary Illustrations, &c., vol. iL •• •• »• •• •• 1817
BIBLIOGRAPHY-^ENGLISH 483
Jackson : Shakespeare's Genius Justified. 1818
Another edition^ 1 81 9. Annotations illustrative of the Plays of Shakespeare. • • • • • • • • 1819
Ozberry's Edition. • • • 1820
Another edition^ 1823.
Altered by Tate (Oxberry's Edition). Boston. • . • • • 1822
Daniel's Edition (< Cumberland's Theatre') 1824
Skottowe : Life of Shakespeare •• • 1824
Hazlitt: Plain Speaker • 1826
Reprinted, 1851, 1869.
Drake : Memorials of Shakespeare. •• •• •• 182S
Farren : Essays on Mania. •• •• 1829
Collier: History of English Dramatic Poetry • • • • 1831
Second edition, 1 879. Mrs Jameson : Characteristics of Women. •• •• • 1833
Other editions^ 1833, 1836, 1846, 1858..
Flayers' Edition. New York 1835
Patterson ; Natural History of the Insects mentioned in Shakespeare. • • • . 1838
Another edition, 1842.
Brown: Shakespeare's Autobiographical Poems. 1838
Rankin : The Philosophy of Shakespeare. 1841
Collier: Shakespeare's Library • •• .• • • 1843
New edition by W. C Hazlitt, 1875.
Dyce: Remarks, &c. • •• •• • 1844
Hunter: New Illustrations 1845
Badham : Criticism applied to Shakespeare 1846
Ulrid: Shakespeare's Dramatic Art (translated). London. 1846
New edition, London, 1876. Birch : Inquiry into the Philosophy and Religion of Shakespeare. • • • • 1848
Hudson : Lectures. New York 1848
Players' Edition (Modem Standard Drama). New Yoik. • • • • . . 1848 Coleridge : Notes and Lectures 1849
Reprinted, Liverpool, 1874. Jifrs Cowden Clarke: Girlhood of Shakespeare's Heroines. • • • • 1850-52
C. Gillmor: Reflections from Shakespeare's Cli£ 1851
Hartley Coleridge : Essays and Marginalia. 1851
Three Essays on King Lear (by Seeley, Young, and Hart) • . 1851
Collier: Notes and Emendations 1852
Second edition, 1853.
Bell : Shakespeare's Puck, &c • • 1852-60
Dyce: A Few Notes. 1853
Singer: The Text of Shakespeare Vindicated. 1853
White : Shakespeare's Scholar. New York. 1854
Walker: Shakespeare's Versification. 1854
Buriesque " King Queer." 1855
Stephens: Shakespeare's Story-teller 1856
Collier: Seven Lectures «• •• 1856
Badham : The Text 1856
Mitford: Cursory Notes • 1856
484 APPENDIX
Badituit I Shakespeare's Venificatioii. • •• •• ••t8S7
AnoHUndUion^ 1859.
PUyezs* Edition. » ?i857
Lk^d: Ess&ys (reprinted £cpm Singer's second edition.) 1858
Charles Kean's edition 1858
Rnshton : Shakespeare a Lawyer. liverpooL • •• 1858
Lord Campbell : Shakespeare's L^al Aoqairements. 1859
Walker: Critical Examination of the Test 1859
Bncknill: The F^chology of Shakespeare. 1859
Djce : Strictures, &c, 1859
Jervis : Proposed Emendadons. • i860
Backnill: Medical Knowledge of Shakespeare. •• •• • i860
Nichols: Notes, &c •• •• «. •. •. l86l-6a
Gervinos: Shakespeare Commentaries (translated). •• • 1862
Another tdUUn^ 1875.
Bailey: The Received Text. • l86d-66
Cowden Clarke: Shakespeare Characteis... •• •« 1863
Hackett: Notes, Criticisms, &c. NewYoik. 1863
Edited by Rev. John Hunter. (Longman's Series.) > « . 1865
Steams : Shakespeare's Medical Knowledge. New Yodc. 1865
Heraud I Shakespeare: his Inner life. •• •• ••1865
Flayeis' Edition •• •• •• •• •• ? 1866
Cartwright: New Readings. 1866
Kellogg: Delineations of Insanity. New York. •• •• •• ••1866
Keightley: The Shakespeare Expositor. 1867
Toisyth: Shakespeare: Some Notes. Edinburgh. •• •• •• •» 1867
Ross: Studies. 1867
Bucknill : The Mad Folk of Shakespeare. • • • • • 1867
Giles : Human Life in Shakespeare. Boston • • • • 186^
IVeston: Studies. Philadelphia. • •• •• «• ••1869
King Lear; or the Undutiftd Children • •• «. 1870
Daniel: Notes and Conjectural Emendadons. •• •• 1870
Players' Edition (Cumberland's Theatre) 4 • • • • • ? 1870
Rushton : Shakespeare's Euphuism. •• •• •• •• •• «, 1871
"Edited by Moberly. (Rugby Edition.) 187c
Ray : Contributions to Mental Pathology. Boston. . • 1873
Lloyd : Critical Essays. • 1875
Snider: Shakespeare's Thigedies. (Joitrnal of SpecuIaHm Philosophy,) St
Louis 1875
ReprinUd in a collected form as * System of Shakespeare Dramas/ 1877.
Dowden: Shakespeare : His Mind and Art. « . 1875
Ward : History of English Dramatic Poetxy. 1875
Edited by Kemshead. • 1875
Edited by W. Aldis Wright (Clarendon Edition.) Oxford. • 1875
Weiss : Wit, Humor, and Shakespeare. Boston. • • • • • • • . 1876
Fleay: Shakespeare Manual. .. •• • ..1876
Edited by Moberly. (Rugby Edition.) 1876
Mayon: Natural History of Shakespeare. Manchester. 1877
Dowdent Shakespeare Primer. •• •• • 1877
BJBUOGRAPHY—ENGUSH
485
Fleayx Intiodacdon to Shakespearitn Study. 1877
Edwin Booth's Frompt-Book.
Bulloch: Studies on the Text. •
Ellacombe : Plant-lore and Garden-craft of Shakespeare. Stokes : Chronological Order of Shakespeare^s fligr>» • • Cowden Clarke t The Shakespeare Key. • . • • • • Herr: Scattered Notes on the TezL Philadelphia. Edited by Hudson.
1878 1878 1878 1878 1879 1879 1879
ARTICUS IN INGUSH AND AMERICAN PERIODICALS
Aeademj^. Rossi as King Lear. • • 6 BCay, 1876
<« .. .. a8 Dec 1878
AmerieoH yammal of Imamiy. •• •• July, 1844
ArckiUct. Godwin s The Architecture and Costume of Shakespeare's Plays.
a8 Not. 1874 Aikituntm, Hales x C6rdelia [in an Eidtaph]. •• •• •• 2 SepL 1876
«« Venables x To < gallow.' 13 Nor. 1875
Baiiys Mcmtkfy Magtanm of Sports andPasHma* Gem: Shakespeare as a
Sportsman. .. .. • • August & September, 1872
SUukwood^i Magnimi. Campbell's Specimens of Eng. Foetiy. • • May, 1819
« ^ Characteristics of Women. FeK 1813
«« " New Readings in Shakespeare, • . . • Oct. 1853
Colhin^s New Monihfy MagoMmo. Jacoz t The Fhyric prescribed to Pomp
by Ez-King Lear. • •• .. July, 1867
LUerary World. J. C on IV, tO, ay, • • • • . • • • i June, 1878
Nous and Qmrieu I, i, 148 : * Docmi,* • •• 5th Ser. ¥,444
I, It, 31
I, iv, 107
n, i. 58
n. I, n, i, n, ii, n, u. n, ii,
II, ii, 158 II, ii, 158 II, ii, 158 II, ii, 158 n,iv, 159 II, iv, 221 II, iv, 221 II, iv, 221 II, iv, 221 II, iv, 221 II, iv, 221 II, iv, 221 II, iv, 221 II, iv, 221 41*
* I can keep honest counsel,' « Lady, the Brach,' .« ad
* uncaught, and found diipatch/
' Sop o^ the moonshine/
*Comest to the warm son,*
«« %% u ^
* Strike her young bones,* • • • • . • 'Embossed,' 4th
|
4tfa |
M |
xl, 72 |
|
ad |
M |
▼,aoa |
|
ut |
M |
vi, 6 |
|
t$t |
M |
vi. 4X |
|
itt |
u |
vit 8a |
|
4tli |
M |
«a. 43 |
|
4th |
«« |
xa. 84 |
|
4th |
M |
«l.ii3 |
|
3d |
M |
adt4i3 |
|
3d |
M |
xi.463 |
|
3d |
u |
»*f399 |
|
5* |
9$ |
iv,223 |
|
3d |
M |
ad, 251 |
|
4th |
m |
t.454 |
|
4th |
M |
i*543 |
|
4th |
M |
si, 210 |
|
4th |
M |
xif3« |
|
4fl, |
M |
xi.349 |
|
4th |
M |
xi,39l |
|
4th |
U |
xi,S07 |
|
4th |
M |
sdi, 29 |
|
4«b |
M |
xii^Ii; |
486 APPENDIX
NoUs and QturUs (continaed).
U, !▼, 221 : 'Embossed,' 4th Ser. jdl, 178
II,i¥, 22z: «< 4th M sit, 218
II,iv,22i: « .. • 4th «« zii,297
III,i¥, 73: <FtelicftndAUghten»' 5th <« ix,445
III, iv, 174 : < ChUd Rowland to the dark tower came/ • • 5th «« ii, 329
III, iv, 174: « " "••""•..• sth «« a, 476 III, iv, 174: *« " «« " " « ,. .. 5th «« iv,427 III, iv, 174: « " "•••*«•.... 5th " ▼i,34S
IV, i, 20s 'Our means secure US,* ist ^ ▼"#592
IN', i, aox " «• •• «• ist «Tlu, 4
IV, I, 201 w «* « « 1st «<Tiii, 97
IV, i, 20: « w « « ist « xi, 153
IV, i, 20: « « « •« 1st « ad, 234
IV, i, ao: «• « « •« •• .. .• .. 1st «« xi,473
IV, i, ao: •• <• « *« .. •• .. •• 1st << xu, 97
IV, ii, 461 « If that the heavens/ 5th <« iii, 103
IV,ii, 57: « Thy slater/ 5th « vii, 3
IV.a, S7« - •• Sth - vii, 45
IV,.U, 62: «Self-coTei'd thing,* 5th « ▼1,225
IV, a, 62: « •« 5th « ^1,303
IV,ai, 19 X « Her smUes and teais Were Uke a better way/ •• 5th ^y^T^i
IV, Ti, 83: « They cannot touch me fa? coining,* •• • • 4th «• x, 246
IV, Ti, 981 *To say I and no/ •• •• 5th •• ia, 103
V,ai, 24: •Goujere/ 5U1 « ¥,202
Pkitologiial SoeU^i TVamiuHom. Interpretation of 'foilcs,* ZearXV, vi, I18, by W. C JoQiddn,p. 134. . • 1857
Emendations proposed by W. C Jouzdaxn, p. 141 z86o-i
Xobms^ei Bfiiome of LiUrahm.
Crosby: Note on I, i, 52; I9 i» 33» 15 Hay, 1879
« M n, ai, 172, • • • • • • • • . • I July, 1879
« <« in,ai, 22;ni,Ta,63, l June, 1879
Ftoiess: ^ I,i¥,2i8, •• August, 1878
TX^GmMiSTJ^^p^^. Cluck: The Qown in Shakespeare. •• March, 1875 TkM Fortmghtiy Review. Swinburne: The Three Stages of Shakespeare.
May, 1875, & J<ui. 1876 Tke Galaxy* Richardson : Shakespeare as a Flagiaxist. • • • • December, 1870
«« White: On Rea^ng Shakespeare. Oct&Nor. l876,&Jan.&FeK 1877 The GentUmaiei Maganme. Clarke : Shakespeare's Fhaosophers and Jesters,
March, AprU, May, June, 1873
•< u u August, 1845
Tke Qttarierfy Review, Life of Kemble. April, 1826
H u u six Henxy Halford's Essays, p. 197, . • April, 1833
BIBUOGRAPHY^GERMAN ^1
GERMAN
«
Wieland : Shakespear theatralisclie Werke, vol. i Zarich, 1762
Herder: Von Deutscher Art und Kanst, p. 93 Hamburg, 1773
Eschenbttrg: Sbakespear*s Schauspiele, vol. xi ZOrich, 1776
Scbroeder: Koenig Lear, nacb Shakespeare bearbeitet ( — Gen^e). . • . . 1778
Bock: Koenig Lear, nach Shakespear ( — Gen^e) Leipzig, 1779
Dr H. E. Wamekros : Der Geist Shakespear's, 2ter Theil, p. 224. Greifewald, 17S6 Kflchler : King Lear. [English Text and German Notes.] .. .. Zeiz, 1794 Dr J. H. Voss : KOnig Lear [with music for * Then they for sudden joy did weep,'*
and * Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd,* composed by Zelter]. Jena, 1806
Tieck: Alt-Englisches Theater, p. x Berlin, 181 1
H. Vost: Shakespeare's Schauspiele, vol. iii (mit Erliuterungen). . . Leipzig, 18 19
Franz Horn: Shakspeare's Schauspiele erllutert, t, 183 Leipzig^ 1823
Beauregard Pandin : Koenig Lear, f&r die Bahne ( — Gen^e). . . . . 1824
L. PeU: Koenig Lear, Ubersetzt (— Gen^e) , . . . . 1824
J. Bapt. von Zahlhas : Koenig Lear, frei bearbeitet Bremen, 1824
Meyer : Shakespeare's SSmmtliche Werke, frei bearbeitet, vol. xiv. . . ? 1824
Benda : Shakespeare's dramatische Werke . . Leipzig, 1825
Kaufman : Shakespeare's dramatische Werke, vol. i Berlin, 1830
Echtermeyer, Henschel, and Simrock: Quellen des Shakespeare, &c., vol. lit,
p. I Berlin, 1831
Seecnd edition^ by Simrock alone. Bonn, 1870. Baudissin : Koenig Lear. [This is in voL viii of Schlegel's translation, super- vised by Tieck.] Berlin, 1832
J. M. Pierre: [English Text with German Notes.] • • Francfort O. M., 1832 Schick : KOnig Lear : Mit einer Abhandlung tber dieses Trauerspiel. Leipzig, 1833 Dr H. T. Rdtscher: Abhandlungen zur Philosophic der Kunst, p. 73. Berlin, 1837 Ortlepp: Shakespeare's dramat. Werke, vol. iii. .. •• Stuttgart, 1839
C. A. West : K6nig Lear, fUr die Darstellung eingerichtet Wien, 1841
Dr Al. Schmidt : Sacherkl&rende Anmerkungen, u. s. w., p. 352. • . Danzig, 1842 Keller and Rapp : Shakespeare's Schauspiele, voU ii. [Lear was translated by
Moritz Rapp.] Stuttgart, 1843
Lichtenberg: Briefe aus England, 1776 (Mrs Barry as Cordelia, p. 252).
Gdttingen, 1844 Dr H. T. R5tscher : Cyclus dramatischer Charaktere, Cordelia, p. 334. Berlin, 1844 Dr F. T. Vischer: Aesthetick oder Wissenchaft des Sch6nen, vol. i, pp. 264, 272, 289f, 307f. 312, 372, 461 ; vol. ii, pp. 166, 168, 175, 206, 368, 376; vol. iii, pp. 28, 35f, 46^9, 53, 233, 1 190, 1335, 1384, I396f, 1400, 1425,
1427 Reutlingen and Leipzig, 1846
Delius : Die Tieck'sche Shaksperekritik, p. 126. Bonn, 1846
Tieck: Kritische Schriflen, i, 5; iii, 226. 1852 Leipzig, 1848
Gervinus : Shakespeare Heidelberg, 1849
Gerth : Wamm hat Shakespear seinem Lear keinen glQcklichen Ausgang gege-
ben? Putbus, 1849
Dr E. W. Sievers: KOnig Lear, f&r weitere Kreise bearbeitet. . • Leipzig, 1851
• The German and other Foreign portion of thb Bibliography is compiled almost wholly from the present Editor's Library. The references which he owes to GsMis, Thimm, Bohm, or Cohn ar« duly credited.^£o.
4^8 APPENDIX
Der arme Mann im Todcenbnig, p. 402. •• •• •• ••Lefpdg, i8$S
Delius : Shakspere's Werke, rol. i. • • « • • • • • Elberfeld, 1854
Vehse: Shakespeare als Protestant, Politiker, F^chblpg, nnd Diditer» yoL i«
p. 288; ToL ii, pp. 58, 68, 337. h Hamboxg, 1854
Jenken ; Shakespeare's Dramen, vol. ▼. •• • •• Maina, 1855
Dr C. C. Hense : Vortrflge fiber avsgewihlte diamatische Dicbtnogen Shake- speare's, Schiller's, und Goethe's, p. 4a • • •• •• Halberstadty 1856
Eduard HfUsmann : Shakespeare. Sein Geist nnd seine Werke, p. 38. Leipzig, 1856
ILH.Westley I [English Text and Notes.] Leipzig, i86t
Kreyssig: Vorlesnngen liber Shakespeare, 11,303 Berlin, 1862
J. L. F. Flathe : Shakespeare in seiner 'Wirklichkeit, p. 44I Leipzig, 1864
ROtscher s Shakespeare in sdnen h5chsten Charakteigebilden, n. s» w., pp. 106^
112,158 Dresden, 1864
Bodenstedt: KoenigLear(— Gen6e) Berlin, 1864
Moltke : Shakespeare's ansgewShlte dramat Werke, toL tL • • (Qrea7), 1865
Prof. Dr Neumann: Ueber Lear nnd Ophelia. • Breslan, 1866
Rfimelin : Shakespeare-Studien, p. 60. Stattgaxt, 1866
OnstaT Hauff: Shakespeare-Studien. KOnig Lear*
Dentsches Museom, 17 Mai, 1866 J. L. Klein x Geschichte des Italienischen Dramas, Enter Band, a. 890.
Leipzig, 1866 [Rer.] M. Petri s Zur Einftlhrung Shakespeare's in die christlidie Familie, p.
159. Hannover, 1868
Georg Herwegh : KOnig Lear (Bodenstedf s edition, toL xz). • . Leipzig, 1869
Jordan: Shakespeare's dramat Werke, voL viii. • • Hildbnrghausen, 1869
Gen^e: Geschidite der Shakespeare'schen Dramen in Dentschland, pp. 255,
260,309,310,321,325,333 Leipzig, 1870
Dr Carl Stark : KOnig Lear. Eine psychiatrische Shakespeare-Stndie, u. s. w.
Stuttgart, 1871
Kreyssig: Shakespeare Fragen, p. 126. Leipzig, 1871
Ed. Tiessen: K6nig Lear. • • Stettin, 1871
W. Oechelhiuser: K6nig Lear. FOr die dentsche BOhne bearbdtet. Berlin, 1871 Schlegel and Tieck: Herausgegeben durch die Deutsche Shakespeare-Gesell-
•chaft VoL zi, K6nig Lear, bearbdtet, eingdeitet, nnd erlintert von A.
Schmidt Berlin, 1871
Otto Lndwig; Shakespeare-Studien, p. 102. Leipzig, 1872
Deetz: Versuch zur Beseitigung des scheinbareh Widerspmdi im Chanikter
Lear's. (Deutsche SdiaubOhne). (— Cohn) ? 1873
ICax Moltke 1 Die Erste lear-Sccne. Ein Uebersetzungsvexgleidu
Shakespear-Mnseum, Noa 9 and zo^ 1875 Benedix: IXe Shakespearomaiue. ZnrAbwehr. ... •• Stnttgait^ 1873
Bodenstedt: Shakespeare's Frauencharaktere, p. 151 Berlin, 1874
Lieban: Erzlhlungen aus der Shakespeare-Welt, p. 107. • • • • Berlin, 1875 Ernst Possart : KOnig Lear. FOr die Darstdlung bearbeitet M&ndien, 1875
F^reilu von Friesen S WilL Shakspere's Dramen, &c, p. 75. • • • • Wien, 1876 Tiessen: Beitrlge zur Feststdlung nnd Erklftrung des Shakespeare-Text
[Archiv f. d. Studinm d. n. Sprachen, Iviii, 2 Heft, p. 159.] Bnimischweig, 1877 Dr Ridiard Koppd: Textkritische Stndien liber Richard in nnd King Lear,
p. 63. • Dresden, 1877
BIBLIOGRAPHY-^BOHEMIAN. DANISH. DUTCH 4^9
Uebau: Die Shakespeare-Gkderie, p. 151 Berlin, 1878
Malkewitz : Die erste AuffOhnuig des Kdnig Lear in Berlin.— J\^i/MiiaAZr£A«if^.
30 Nov. (—Colin). • Berlin, 187&
Dr V* Knauer : Shakespeare der Fhilosoph der Sittlichen Weltordnung, p. 255.
Innsbruck, 1879
Dr Alex. Schmidt : King Lear Berlin, 1879
Max KOchy : KAnig I«ar. Eine deutsche BOhnen-Ausgabe. • .Leipzig, 1879
JakrHUker der deuUeken Shakespeare^ Geseilsehaft: Essays:
Ulrids Devrient als Lear. • •• •• •• il, 292
Delias : Ueber den urspronglichen Text des Lear. • • • • x, 50
Eke : Note on ' look a mouse,' IV, vi. xi, 298
Freih. v. Friesen : Ueber Shakespeare's Quellen xu Kfinig Lear. zii, 169
Misior Notices:
Neumann: Ueber Lear und Ophdia. • • iii, 406
Lear als Speisekarte. [Bill of Fare of the Philadelphia Shakspere Soc] t, 369 Stark : Eine psychiatrische Studie, &c. •• •• •• •• vi, 361
Miss Beever: Lear. • •• •• •• ^»3^
Tiessen: Lear. • ▼ii»365
BOHEMIAN
Ladislav Celakovsky: Dramatick& Dlla Williama Shakespeanu Kr&l Lear. Dili. VPraze,i856
DANISH
ICongLear: OversatefterN.TatesOmarbeidelse. (— Thimm) 1794
Peter Foersom : Shakespeare's Tragiske Wserker. Kong Lear. Anden DeeL
KiObenhavn, 181 1 Reprinted^ 1850, 1859.
S. Beyer: Kong Lear, Lystspil en 5 Act Ki&benhaven, 1850
Wosemose : Kong Lear. (—Thimm) 1854
Studier over Kong Lear. Af Qemens Petersen (Nord Univer. Tidskrift, III,
iv) Upsala,?i853
Kong Lear : Oversat af Edv. Lembcke. • . ' Kjobenhavn, 1878
DUTCH
Koning Lear, Treuxspel in vyf Bediyven. Gevolgt naar het Fransch door
Mevrouwe M. G. de Cambon. . • . • . . In 'sGravenhage, 1791
Bloemlezing uit de dramatische Werken van Shakspeare. Door Mr L. Ph. C
van den Berg, p. no. . • Amsterdam, 1834
W. van Loon : Koning Lear. • •• Utrecht, 1861
H. de Beer: A Short Account of the Plots, &c., p. 20. • • Amheim, 1871
A. S. Kok: Shakespeare's Dramatische Werken. Koning Lear, 4 Aflevering.
Amsterdam, 187^
490 APPENDIX
FRENCH*
Duels : L« Roi Lear, Tragedie en cinq Actes, representee pour U premiere fois
en 1783. . . . . 1783
Le Roi I«ar, traged]e» conforme aux representations donees & Paris. ( — Bohn). 1828
Deschamps: Scenes de. (—Bohn) . . 1841
Carlhant : Tragedie. Avec le text Anglais en regard. (—Bohn). . . . . 1847
Devicque et Crisafulli : Le Roi Lear, drame en 5 actes et douze Tableaux.
(— Thimm) 1857
Victor Hugo: William Shakespeare, p. 322. 1864.
Jules Lacroix : Le Roi Iiear, drame en dnq Actes, en vers imiti de Shakspeare. 1868 Le Chevalier de Chatelain: Le Roi Lear. Traduite en vera francats. London, 1873
GREEK
lifJ^ayoc ^vayyiXta/t6c. 1870
0 BA2IABT2 AHP, TPATQAUL EE TOT ArPAIKOT META«PAZeBI2A
TnO AHMHTPIOT BIEEAA. EN AOHKAIE. 1876
HUNGARIAN Mich. VOrasmarty: Lear Kir&ly. (— Cohn) 1855
ICELANDIC
Lear Konnngnr, Sorgarleiknr epter W. Shakspeare, I ialenakri ^ydingn epter
Steingrfm Thonteinsson. Reyl^avfk, 1878
ITALIAN
Leoni : II Re Lear, (—Bohn) Veiona, 1821
Teatro Completo di Shakspeare, voltato in prosa Italiana da Carlo Ruscont.
Padova, 1831
PwrtA ediHoHt Torino, 1859; Six/A edi/ion, Firenze, 1874. Teatro scelto di Shakspeare, tradotto da Giulio Carcano, voL i, p. I. Firenie, 1857
Fini iUmstrated editioth Milan, 1878.
POUSH
Dramata Willjama Shakspear'a. Pneklad a Pierwc^ora. Krolliear. Tom.
IL p. 291 Warszawa, 1858
Ddela DramfUycsne Ssekspira. Przeklad Stantslawa K6zmiana. Kr6l Ljr.
Tom. I| p. 95. • • . • • • • Poznan, 1866
Adam Plug: Kr61 Ur. Tragedja Szekspira w 5 Aktach Lw6w, 1870
• Th« FVench tnunbdoos of Shakespcmte's Conplettt Woiks an given In ABMi/!r#« voL U« p. 413. It MCBBS superfluous to repeat them liere.»£D.
BIBUOGRAPHY--RUSSIAN. SWEDISH 49 ^
Dziek Dnmaiycsne WUliama Shakespeare (Szekspira). Wydanie illustrowan/e, osdobione 545 dneirorytami Rysunku H. C. Selousa. Pneklad SL Kozi- nianay J. Pftszkowskiego i L. Ulricha. Z dodaniem fyciorysu poety i olja^nicA pod redakqra J- L Kraszewskiego. Tom. II, p. 141. Waruawa, 1876
RUSSIAN
Koroly Ler^ TVagadiya ef I^ate Daystviyakhe. Cotshenania Shakspenu Pkr»-
▼ale se An^Iiyskago Vasiley Yakimof. . . • . Sanktpatarburge, 1833 Polnoa Sobrania Dramatetsheskekhe Shakspera ef parabodya Russkekhe Pesa-
talay Ezdania N. V. Garbalya. Tome Parvyiy, p. 233. Sanktpatarburge, 1865 Koroly Lere, Tragadiya ef lyate Daystviyakhe Shakspera. Paravode A.
Dnxshenemu •• •• •• .. •• n.d.
Koroly Lere, Tragadiya ef ^ate Daystviyakhe Shakspenu Paravode V.
Luaravskago.* Sanktpatarbuxge, 186$
SWEDISH
Anonymoos: Konang Lear. (— Bohn). Upsala, 1818
Hagbeig: Shakspeare'sdramatiska Arbeten. KonnngLear. EUofte bandet.
Lund, 1861
• As wdl as X can make oat, this is the same traaslatioa as the preceding. It Is, peihaps, need* less to add that my knowledge of Russian barely extends beyond the alphabet, and that the forcsolag attempt to convert these Russian titles into English letters Is simply laughahle.'-ED.
INDEX TO SOME OF THE MORE IMPORTANT NOTES, AND TO THE APPENDIX.
Able *em • • «• • • • IV, vi, t66 Abnsed IV, vU, 53
KcceDlL^spetck •• •• 11* ii, 106
Accommodate • • • • IV» vi, 8z
A-cold • • • • • • III, iv, 57.
Action-taking • • • • II» ii, 15
Actors 43S
KdM^oxi^ external observance I, i, 135 Addition* /It/// .. • • II, ii, 22 Admiration •■<»/lMf»i«/ii/ I, iv, 230
Advise II, i, 27
Affliction— ws^m/£mi • • III, ii, 49
Aged IV, iv, 28
A-hanging V, iii, 275
A-hcight IV, vi, 58
Ajax [pronundation of] • • II, ii, 121 Albany [accent of ] • • • • I, i, 40 Albany [origin of ] • • • • I» i» 2 All [adverbial nse] • • • • IV, vii, 42
Allow II, iv, 188
Allowance I, iv, 201
Altogether fool [concrete for
abstract] I, iv, 146
Am bethought • • • • II, iii, 6
Among I, iv, 171
Ancient of war • • . . V, i, 32 And [used emphatically] • . Ill, ii, 74
Anguish IV, iv, 15
Answer It i» 150
Answer • IV, ii, 14
Apollo • . • • « • I> i> 159
Arch II, i, 59
Are you there with me • . IV, vi, 143
Aroint Ill, iv, 118
Array'd IV, vii, 20
Arrest V, iii, 84
As^asif lit ii* 77
M^asif III» iv, 15
Aspect [accent of ] • • • • II, ii, loi A-squint • • » • •• V, iii, 73 4a
Assured loss Ill, vi, 93
At each IV, vi, 53
Atgate [absorption of article] III, vii, i5
At heels II» iit I53
At legs [absorption of article] II, iv, 9
At point I, iv, 319
At point Ill, i, 33
At task I» iv, 338
Avert I, i, 210
A-work • • • • • • III, ▼, 6
«Ay»and«no*too., *. IV, vi, 99
Ballow IV, vi, 240
Bandy I, iv, 81
Bans II, iii, 19
Barbarous I, i, 115
Barber-monger • • • • II, ii, 30
Bark HI, vi, 61
Bastard I, ii, 5
Be [subjunctive] • • • . I> v, 31
Beard IV, vi, 96
Bearing Ill, vi, 105
Bed and warm • • • • III, iv, 47
Bedlam Ill, vii, 102
Bedlam beggars • • • • II, iii, 14
Begot I» »» 95
Believed IV, iii, 29
Be-met V, i, 20
Benediction IV, vii, 58
Beseech [omission of nomi-
native] I, i, 209
Be- weep If iv, 296
Be-wray II, i, 107
Bids Ill, i, 5
Big-/(7fA/ V, iii, 209
Bird IV, vi, 91
Blackwood's NIagazine • • • • 425
Blank I> i* 158
Block IV, vi, z8i
Bloodim. disposition • . . . IV, ii, 64 493
494
INDEX
Boil n, !▼, 220
Bosom IV9 Y, 26
Bosom V, iii, 50
Bound Ill, ▼!!» 10
Boom Ill, viy 25
Bourn IV, vi, 57
Brach •* I, iv, 107
Brach UI, vi, 67
Brains If ▼# 7
Break V, iii, 313
Brief V, iii, 246
Bring away Ilf ii> 135
Brown bills IV, vi, 91
Brow of youth • • • • I, iv, 278
Buoyed-np Ill, vii, 59
BUKBAGB 438
Burdocks •• •• •• IV, iv, 4
Burgundy [pronundation of] I, i, 32 Bat»«Myv^ •• •• IV, ▼1,125
Button V, iii, 310
Buzz I, !▼, 320
By day and nigkt •• •• I, iii, 4 By the heads • • • • II, iv, S
Cackling n» ii> 79
Cadent I, iv, 279
Camden'^ Remainet • • . • 392
Camelot H* ii» 79
Can I» ▼» 15
Can • . . IV, iv, 8
Capable H* i. 85
Carbonado .• •• • • II, ii, 34 Case of eyes • • • • IV, vi, 142
Cat III> iv, 102
Cataracts Ill, ii, 2
Catastrophe I, ii, 127
Censure • V, iii, 3
Censured IHy ▼» 2
Chambemiaids •• • • IV, i, 61
Champains • • • • • • I» ' i» 63
Chance [as an adverb] • • II, iv, 61
Character I» i>» 59
Character II, i, 72
Charity V, iii, 167
Charms • • • • • • II> i* 39
Che vor» ye IV, vi, 239
Child-changed •• .. IV, vii, 17 Childed . . . fathefd . • III, vi, 108 Child RowUnd • • . • III, iv, 174
Chill IV, vi, 234
Choice and rarest • • • • I, iv, 257
Clamour I, i, 164
Clamour moisten*d , • IV, iii, 31
acarest IV, vi, 73
aimb up it IV, vi, 2
aoset I, ii, 58
aothier»s yard . . . . I V, vi, 88
Clout IV, vi, 91
Cock IV, vi, 19
Cockney II, iv, 118
Codpiece Ill, ii, 27
Codpiece Ill, ii, 40
Cohorts I, ii, 141
CoLERkDGB [on Edmund] . • •• 419 Comfortable •• .« I, iv, 300
Comforting . . . . HI, ▼, 17
Commit Ill, iv, 79
Common saw • • • • II, ii, 156
Compact I, iv, 334
Compact •• .. •• II, ii, 113
Conception I, iv, 64
Condition I» it 295
Conditions I» i, 205
Conditions IV, iii, 33
Confine II, iv, 144
Confined IV, i, 72
Consort II, i, 97
Constant pleasure • • • . V, i, 4 Constant will • • • • I, i, 41
Continents Ill, ii, 58
Convenient seeming • • III, ii, 56
Convene I, iv, 15
Convey I, ii, 96
Cope V, iii, 125
Cordelia . . • remedies • • II, ii, 162
Corky Ill, vii, 28
Com . • • harm [rhyme] • . Ill, vi, 41
Coronet I» i, 138
Costard IV, vi, 240
Costume 446
Course Ill, vii, 53
Courtesy Ill, vii, 25
Court holy water • • • • III, ii, 10
Cover faults I, i, 280
Cowish IV, ii, 12
Coxcomb I, iv, 93
Crab • • • I, V, 14
Crack Ill, ii, 8
INDEX
495
CrcMk in, ▼»» 31
Crow-keq>er • • . . IV, vi, 87
Cruel garters • • * . II, iv, 7
Cruels else subscribe . . Ill, vii, 64
Cub-drawn HI, i, 12
Cuckoo-flowers . • • • IV, it, 4
Cue I, ii, 128
Cullionly U, u, 29
Curiosity It i» 5
Curiosity I, ii, 4
Curiosity I, !▼, 66
Curious I, iVf 31
Curled my hair • • • • lU, iv, 84
CuruofLear •• •• I, iv, 269
Cut to th' brains . • • . IV, vi, 191
Darker I» i» 34
Darkling I> iv, 2X0
Darnel IV, iv, $
Datb OP Composition .. ..377
Daub it IV, i, 51
Dawning IIi ii» I
Deadly IV, ii, 36
Dear I, iv, 266
Dear Ill, i, 19
Dear cause IV, iii, 51
Death-practised • • • . IV, vi, 275
Deathsman IV, vi, 257
Deboshed I, iv, 235
Decay V, iii, 298
Decline IV, ii, 22
Deed of love • • • • I, i, 70
Defend V, i, 69
Deficient IV, vi, 23
Defuse I, iv, 2
Dejected thing • • • . IV, i, 3
Delicate III» iv, 12
Demanding HI, ii, 65
Dtny^refuii •• . • II, iv, 84
Depend I, iv, 243
Deprive I, ii, 4
Derogate I, iv, 274
Desperately V, iii, 293
Devrient 444
Did [transitive use] • • I, iv, 98
Diffidences I, ii, 140
Diligence I, iv, 34
Disclaims in . . • • . . II, ii, 50
Discovery V, i, 53
Discretion II, iv, 145
Diseases I, i, 173
Disnatured • • . • • • I, iv, 277
Dispatch II, i, 58
Disposition I, i, 302
Disposition • • • « • • I, iv, 215 Disquantity • • • • • • I, iv, 242
Distract IV, vi, 279
Ditch-dog Ill, iv, 126
Division • • • • • • I, i, 4
Do, de Ill, iv, 57
Dog IV, vii, 36
Dolours II, iv, 52
Dolphin, my boy • . • • III, iv, 96 Do thou for him stand . • I, iv, 138
Doubted V, i, 6
Down, insulted [omission of
nominative] • • • • II, ii, 1 14
Dover aiff IV, vi, ii
D& Johnson [criticism on
the Tragedy] 418
Dragon I, i, 121
Drew [omission of nomina*
tive] n, iv, 41
Dropped IV, iii, 22
DtniATioN OF Action •• .• 40S Duteous IV, vi, 252
Ear-kissing II, i, 8
Ear, Light of • • . . Ill, iv, 90
Earnest I, iv, 90
Easy-borrowed pride . • II, iv, 182
Eclipses I, ii, 98
EffecU I, i, 130
Elbows him IV, iii, 42
Election makes not op . • I, i, 205
Elements Ill, i, 4
Elf all my hair • • • • II, iii, 10
Embossed H, iv, 221
Engine • • • • • • I, iv, 262
English -i^rf!ftf>l •• .. IV, vi, 249 Enguard • . • • • • I, iv, 321
Enormous state . . . . II, ii, 165
Enridged IV, vi, 71
Entire I, i, 238
Epicurism • . . • • • I, iv, 237
Epileptic II, ii> 76
Essay or taste • • • • I, ii, 44
Even but now • • • • III, ii, 65
496
INDEX
Even o'er IV, vii, 80
Exhibition I» ii, 25
Expense and waste • • . • II, i, 100 Eyes, Wantest thoa • • • • III, vl, 23
Fatry Queene 391
Faint I, iv, 65
Faith'd 11, i, 70
Falchion • • • • • • V, iii, 277
Fall and cease • • • • V, iii, 265
Fare thee • • • • • • I, i, 179
Fa, sol, la, mi • • . • I» iii 129 Vz&\^fixed .. .. .. I, i, 36
Father IV, vi, 218
Fathom and a half • • , • III, iv, 37
Fault V, iii, 193
YedSwm fear for , . . . IV, ii, 31
Fear'dof II, i, "i
Fears Ill, v, 3
Feature .. .. • . IV, ii, 63
Feelingly IV, vi, 147
Feet Ill, i, 32
Felicitate I, i, 74
Fell'd [omission of nom.] . • IV, ii^ 76
Fellow Ill, i, 48
Felt IV, vi, 183
Festinate Ill, vii, 9
Fetches II, iv, 85
Fire and food is • • . • III, iv, 145
First Ill,' iv, 26
First cock Ill, iv, 11 1
First of difference • . . . V, iii, 289
Fish I, iv, 16
Fitchew IV, vi, 121
Five wits Ill, iv, 56
Flaws II, iv, 282
Flax and white of eggs • • III, vii, 105
Flesh II, ii, 42
Flesh Ill, iv, 71
Fleshment II, ii, 118
Flibbertigibbet •• ..III, iv, no
Foins IV, vi, 244
Fool I, iv, 91
Fool of fortune • • • • IV, vi, 189 Fools do those villains pity . • IV, ii, 54 Fools had ne'er • • • • I, iv, 160
Footed Ill, iii, X2
Foppery I, 11,112
Foppish . . • ai»sh [rhyme] • • I, iv, 161
Fops I, a» 14
Yox^on account of .. II, iv, 53
Forbid thee Ill, iu, 19
Formystate V, i, 68
Fordid V, iii, 256
Fordone V, iii/ 292
Fork I, 1,143
Forks IV, vi, 118
Fortnight I, iv, 289
Foxes V, iii, 23
Frateretto Ill, vi, 6
Fraught I, iv, 214
Free IV, vi, 80
Freedom I, i, 180
Free things Ill, vi, 103
From our home • • • • II, i, 124 From this ^from this time . • I, i, 1 1 5
FronUet I, iv, 182
Fruitfully IV, vi, 263
Fumiter .. .. . . IV, iv, 3
Gad I, ii, 26
Gait IV, vi, 236
Gallow Ill, ii, 44
Qvch mm dialect • • • • II, ii, 92
Garrick 439
Gasted II, i, 55
Generation '• I, i, 116
Gervinus • 457
Give you good morrow • • II, ii, 154
Glass-gazing II, ii, 16
Glib « I, i, 223
Gloucester [city of] . . I, v, i
Gloucester [spelling of] • • I, i, 32 Goneril [derivation] • • I, i, 51
Gone, sir IV, vi, 41
Good-years • • • • •• V, iii, 24
Gorgeous II, iv, 265
Gossamer IV, vi, 49
Go, you • • • > • . I, V, X
Go you, call I, iv, 73
Gloves . . • • . . Ill, iv, 84
Grace • • • • . • III, ii, 40
Graced palace • . . . I, iv, 239 Gracious my lord • • • • III, ii, 61
Great H, ii, loi
Greater V, iii, a
Great vices IV, vi, 162
Great world -iffioffv^jm • . IV, vi, 133
INDEX
497
Groom • • • • • • II» iv, 214
Gtiardians • • • • • • II» iv, 248
Halcyon n, ii, 73
Hallam 428
Handy-dandy • • • • IV» vi, 151 Uarmefs DularaHmt 6*^* III» iv» 53
Hate IV» i» iz
Hath • I, 1,190
Have yoa wisdom •• •• I, iv, 88
Hazutt 42Z
Hearing of V, iii, 205
Hear, nature • • • • I, iv, 269
Heart • • • • • • III, iv, 4
Heat I» i»30S
Hecate [dissyllable] • • I, i, 109
Hell-black ni,vii, 59
Helps IV, iy, 10
Hemlock IV, iv, 4
Hence and avoid my sigbt •• I, 1,123 Hence to-night • • • • I, i, 283
Hensb 4^
Here's I» i» 187
Here . • . where [as noons] • • I, i, 260 He that keeps nor crust • • I, iv, 190
Hide all IV, vi, 163
High noises • • • • < • lU, vi, 109
HiU IV, vi, I
Him^ them^ and *#m con- founded Ill, vii, 8z
History I, 1,235
Hit together • • • • I, i, 301
Hog in sloth • • • • III, iv, 90
Hold, sir V, iii, 156
HouNSHXD.* 384
Holy cords 11, ii» 69
Hoppedance •• •• III, vi, 30
Horn 45<
Horn is diy Ill, vi, 73
Horrible IV, vi, 3
Hoise's health • • • • III, vi, 19 Hospitable favonxs • • • • HI, vii, 39 House, Becomes the . • H, iv, 149 Howfearfhl [Dover Qiff] . • IV, vi» 11
Howl n, iv, 207
HtTDSON •• •• •• ••431
Hugo •• J 465
Hundred pound • • • • II, ii, 14 Hurricanoes • • • • m, ii, 2
42* 2G
I am a man more dnn'd • • III, ii, 59
I am, I am , IV, vii, 70
IcemB/sAaU IV, vi, 239
If for I want •• •• I, 1,223
If thou lovest me • • • • II, ii, 5
Idle I, iii, 17
Idle ^ IV, iv, 5
Idle IV, vi, 21
Idle and fond •• •• I, ii, 48
Images • • • • • • II, iv, 86
Immediacy • • • • • • V, iii, 66
Impertinency • • • • IV, vi, 172
Important . • • • • • IV, iv, 26
Impossibilities • • • • IV, vi, 74
Impress'd lances • • . • V, iii, 51 In [with verb of motion] • • V, iii, 51
In contempt II, iii, 8
Influence I, ii, 118
Ingenious • • • • . • IV, vi, 278
Ingraffed I» i> 295
In mercy • • • • • • I, iv, 322
Innocent • HI, vi, 7
Insanity •• •• »• •• 412 In such conditions . • • • I, i» 205
Intelligent HI, i, 25
Intelligent • Ill, vii, 11
Intelligent party . • • • III, v, 9
Interess'd I, i, 84
Intermission • • • • • • II, iv, 32
In the confined deep • • IV, i, 72
In the least I, i, 190
Into I, iv, 70
Intrinse II, iif 70
In your liking • • • • I, i, 232 Is [emphatic] • • . . IV, vi, 139
It IV, ii, 32
It head I, iv, 209
I...whisae .IV, ii. 29
Jameson, Mrs Jealous • • Jealous curiosity Jewels • •
Judgement • • Judicious
• • 426
. V, i, 56
> I, iv, 66
I> i»267
. I, iv, 16
III, iv, 72
Joint stool HI, vi, 50
Jupiter I, i, 177
Justicer •.• •• • • III, vi, 21
Justicers IV, ii, 79
498
INDEX.
Kban •• •• •• ••440
Kent • • • • • . •• IV, iii, 28
KiU IV, i, 37
KiU'dinUm .. •• IV,yu, 79
Kill, kill, IV, vi, 185
Kind gods III,vii, 34
Kindly I> v, 13
JTfif/Znr [Ballad] .-. .. 403
AKI^Z^ [Drama] ., ... 393
Knapped U, iv, 119
Knee his throne .. ..11, iv, 211
Kneel IV,vii, 59
Knives Ill, iv, 53
Known and feeling sorrows IV, vi, 221 Know yon •• •• •• ^ i, 268
Krsvssxq •• •• •• ..461
Labours •• •• •• I, iv, 7
Ladies • • • . • • I, iv, 149
Lamb • 421
Lanced • 11, i, 52
Last and least •• •• I, i, 82 Lender's books • • • • III, iv, 94 Less advancement . • • . II, iv, 197
Let-alone V, iit, 80
Letter • • • • • • III, vii, 2
Letten IV, vi, 247
Life in t IV, vi, 201
Lightning •• •. •• IV, vii, 35
Like I» i> 199
Like a better way .. ..IV, iii, 19
Lily-livered II, ii, 15
Upsbnry pinfold • . • . II, ii, 8
List V, iii, 182
Uttle world of man • micro-
com in, i, 10
Look HI, iii, Z2
Looks fearfully in .. .. IV, i, 72
Look yott in, vii, 93
Loop'd ni, iv, 31
Lord's dependants . . • . Ill, vii, 17 Lose . . . • • . I, iv, 297
Lusts IV, vi, 160
Luxury •• •» ..IV, vi, 116 Lym. m, vi, 67
Machination V, i, 46
Madam n> U 97
Madam's • • • • • • I, iit 9
Madded IV, ii, 43
Made good I, i, 171
Made intent IV, vii, 9
Mad, not mad • • . • I» v, 43
Main. m, i, 6
Main deScry . • • . • . IV, vi, 212 Majesty [dissyllable] • • I, i, 91 Majesty [dissyllable] • . I, i, Z48
Manhood IV, ii, 68
Manners •• .. • . V, iii, 235
Many Ill, ii, 30
Marry her I, i, 128
Material sap IV, ii, 35
Mature IV, vi, 273
Maugre ^ V, iii, Z32
Means m, vii, 29
Means secure us • • • • IV, i, 20 Means to lead it •• . • IV, iv, 20 Measure fail me . • • • IV, vii, 3
Meiny II, iv, 34
Memories IV, vii, 7
MerlirCt prophicy • • • • III, ii, 80
Messenger II, ii, 46
Messengers . • • • . • II, i, Z24
Mild IV, U, I
Milk I» i> 83
Milky gentleness . • . • I, iv, 336 Minces virtue . • • • IV, vi, 119
Minikin Ill, vi, 42
Mirourfor Magistrates • • • . 389
Miscreant I, i, 160
Modest n, iv, 24
Modest truth . . . . IV, vii, 5
Modo . . . Mahu . • . . HI, iv, 133 Moiety .. .• .. I, i, 6
Monopoly I, iv, 148
Monsters it I, i, 219
Mopping and mowing • • IV, i, 60 Moral— m^m/utii^.. .. IV, ii, 58 More [dissyllable] . . . . I, iv, 334 More corrupter • « . • II, ii, 97 More headier • • • • II, iv, 106
More worse .. .. n, ii, 144
More worthier • • • • I, >> 210
Mortified II, iii, 1$
Most poorest II> in, 7
Mother's pains • • . • I, iv, 280 Mother, swells up toward • . II, iv, 54 MoUon II, i, io
INDEX
499
Much n, U, 137
Mnmbliag of • , • • II» i» 39
Murdereis V» iii» 270
Music IV, Tu, 25
My poor fool is hanged • • V» iii, 306
Namral .. .. '• . 11, i, S4
Nature I, i, 51
Nature, art my goddess • • I» ii, i Nature's above art • • • . IV, vi, 86
Neat II» ii> 37
Need II, iy, 267
Nero Ill, vi, 6
Nether-stocks • , • • II, iv, 10
Nettles • IV, iv, 4
Nicely II, ii, 99
Nightingale • • • • • • III, vi, 30
Ninefold • • • • • • III, iv, 115
No, no, no, no • • • • V, iii, 8
No tearing V, iii, 158
Nobly V, i, 28
Noon Ill, vi, 83
Nor no man else • • • • V, iii, 291 Not an hour more nor less . . IV, vii, 61
Note '• . . Ill, i, 18
Note IV, V, 29
Note V, iii, Q&
Nothing If i» 86
Nothing sees miracles • • II, ii, 161 Not i' th' stocks. Fool • • II, iv, %i
Not met IV, ii, 2
Not thought r II, f, 75
Nuncle • • • • • • I, iv, 100
Obidicttt rV, i, 58
Object I, 1,213
Observants II, ii, 98
OechelhAuser 463
(Eiliads IV, v, 25
Of [following verbal noun] I, iii, i Oi^fnximUy •• •• I, v, 21
OhI Ill, vii, 90
Oh IV, ii. 26
Old course • • • • • • III, vii, 100
Old fools I, iii, 21
Oldness I, ii, 47
On .. V, iii, 166
On necessity •• •• I, ii, 115 Oq's I, iv. 98
On»s I, V, 19
On't IV, i, 50
One-trunk-inheriting • . II, ii, 17
One's I» !▼> 95
Operation • • . • • • I, i» no
Opposeless IV, vi, 38
Opposites V, iii. 43
Oppress'd nature sleeps • . Ill, vi, 95
Or-iwr in. Hi, 5
Ordinance IV, i, 66
Other I, iv, 194
Our wishes IV, ii, 14
Out I, iv, 148
Out nine years • • • • If 1» 30
Overture HI. vii, 88
Owes •• •• •• •• Ifi, 201
Owes nothing • . • • IV, i, 9 Owest I, iv, 115
Packs and sets . . .. V, iii, 18 Paphlagtmian vnhnde kmg^ . • 386
'Parel IV, i, 49
Particular . • • • . • I, iv, 332 Particular . • • . • • II, iv, 289
Particular V, i, 30
Parting them [stage-direction] II, ii, 40
Pass IV, vi. 47
Pass upon Ill, vii, 23
Pawn I, i, 154
Peascod I, iv, 192
Pebble IV, vi, 21
Pelican Ill, iv, 73
Pelting « II, iii, 18
Perdu IV, vii^ 35
Perdy II, iv, 81
Perforce • • • • • • I» v, 37
Perjured • . • . « • III, ii, 54
Persever Ill, v. 18
Persian attire • • • . Ill, vi. 78
Pestilent gall • • • . I, iv. 109
Pew Ill, iv, sz
Picture II, i. 81
Pieced • I, i, 198
Piece of nature . . . . IV, vi, 133
Pight II, i, 6s
Pillicock Ill, iv, 74
Pities Ill, ii, 12
Plackets Ill, iv, 94
Plague of custom • • . • I, ii, 3
500
INDEX
Plate • • • • • • • • IV, ▼!» 163
Plighted .. .« •• I» i»279 Plural by aOracHom • • III» ^t 4
Poise • II» i»i20
Policy If ii> 45
Ponderous •• •• *• h h 11 Power •• •• •• I» i»l69
Practice 11, i» 73
Piractice •• •• •• II, 1,107
Practice •• «• •• II, iv, ill
Practices • I, ii, 172
Practised •• •• ••lU, ii, 57
Prefer •• •• ••I* i*273
Pregnant •• «• •• II, i, 7^ Pregnant • • • • • • IV, vi, 222
Prescribe not* OS •• •• I, i,275
Presently • • • • • • II, iv, 33
Press money IV, vi, 87
Pretence I, ii, S4
Prevent Ill, iv, 151
Pricks II, ill, 16
Privilege V, iii, 130
Profess • I, iv, II
Professed I, i, 271
Professes •• •• •• I» >» 73
Proper •• •• •• I, i, 17
Proper deformity •• •• IV, ii, 60
Property •• •• •• I, i, I13
Provoking merit •• ••III, v, 5
Pttdder Ill, ii, 50
Punishment • • • • • • III, iv, 72
Puppet II» iifl 33
Pur Ill, vi, 44
Put him on •• •• ••lit it 99
Pot it on I, ir, 200
Qualities I* it 5
Quality II, iv, 88
Quarrel •• •• ••ni,vii, 76
Queasy •• •• •• II, i, 17
Question • • • • •• IV, iii, 24
Question • • • • •• V, iii, 34
Qnestrists •• %• ••III,vii, 16
Rakeap •• •• ••IV, vi,272
Rapp 457
Rebel II, ii, 71
Regards I» i»237
Remainder • • • to be • • I, iv, 243
Remediate IV, it, 17
Remember IV, vi, 228
Remorse IV, ii, 73
Remotion •• •• •• II, iv, 110
Renege lit iif 73
Report • • • • • • IV, vi, 139
Reposal II, i, 68
Reserve thy state •• «• I, i, 148
Resolution I* ii* 95
Rispe€tkfi c^mtruetim • • I, iv, 237
Respects II, ii, 126
Respects of fortune • • I, i* 247
Restoration hang •• •• IV, vii, 26 Retention • • •• V, iii, 48
Revenging gods •• •• II, i, 45
Reverbs I> i» 153
Riddle V, i, 37
Ripeness •• •• •• V, ii, 11
Rivalled I, i, 190
Rognes IV, vii, 39
Rotundity in, ii, 7
Rubb'd U, ii,i5o
ROmklin « •• 462
Sa, sa IV,^ vi, 202
Safer sense IV, vi, 81
Sallets in, iv, 126
Salt IV, vi, 193
Sampire IV, vi, 15
Sapient • • • • •• • III, vi, 28
Savour • • • • • • I, iv, 230
Savour IV, ii, 39
Say V, iu,i44
Scattei'd m, i, 31
Schick •• •;• •• •• 453
ScKLXGBL •• •• •• •• 449
Scythian •• •• •• I, i, 11$
Sea-monster • • • • • • I, iv, 255
Seeming • • • • • • I, i, I97
Self-xaffff I, i, 68
Self-covered IV, ii, 6s
Self-mate and mate •• •• IV, iii, 34
Sepulchring • • • • • • II, iv, 128
S^pent's tooth • • • • I, iv, 282
Serving-man • • • • m, iv, 83
Sesss.^ •• •• ^.m, iv, 96
Sessa m, vi, 78
Set ••I* iv, 118
Set Ill, ir, 80
INDEX
501
Setsnyrtst •• •• •• I, i, 122
Setding • • • • . « IV, TU, 82
Seven stan • • • • • • I» ^t 34
Shall II, ii, 126
Shall -/tfm^MM^i^ •• I, i» 33 Shall-/tfM^MMi/i^ •• I» i, 133 Shelley •• •• •• ••429
Short • • « • . . IV, Tii, 40
Should II, iL 143
Side V, i, 61
Silly-dncking •• ..11, ii, 9^
Similar Ill, ii, 54
Since that I, i, 247
Sinews • • • • • • III, vi, 96
Sir [rhythm] •• • • I, i» 53
Sir [rhythm] •• •• I, iv, 196
Sir [rhythm] •• •'. II, ii, X23
Sir [substantive] •• •• II, iv, 74
Sith I, i, 179
Sith II, iv, 236
Sizes -,• • • • • • • II» iv» 172
Slave/. Ill, ii, 19
Slaves « • .. . . IV, i, 66
Sleepest Ill, vi, 40
Slipshod I, v, 2
Smile once more • • • • II, ii, 169
Smile yon • II, ii, 77
Smooth II, ii, 70
Smulkin Ill, iv, 133
Snider 429
Snow IV, vi, 118
Snu£& Ill, i, 26
So I» i>i95
Soiled IV, vi, Z2i
Something [used adverbially] I, i, 20 Sometime -"yifm/r^ • • I, i, I19 Some year . • • • • • I, i, 18
So much • • • • • • I, i, 60
Sons at perfect age • , • • I, ii, 69 So out went the candle • • I, iv, 210
So...To II, iv, II
So • • • To II, iv, 272
Sop o* th' moonshine • • II, ii, 29
Sorry Ill, ii, 73
Source OF THE Plot •• ••383
Space I, i, 55
Space • IV, vi, 269
Spare II, ii, 62
Speak I, i, 6t
Speculations r« •• ••III, i, 24
Spies V, iii, 17
Spill • III, ii, 8
Sport II, i, 35
Square of sense • • • It i» 73
Squiny IV, vi, 136
Stars. I, ii, 115
SteU'd .• ;• ..III,vii, 60
Stem . • • • • • • • III, vii, 6a
Stiberdigebit •• •• IV, i, 59
Stick II, tii, 15
Stick m, vii, 57
Still • I, 1,230
StiU II, iv, 103
Stocking II, ii, 128
Stomach V, iii, 75
Stones •• «.• •• V, iii, 258
Store • • • • • • • • III, vi, 53
Strain V, iii, 41
Strange II, i, 77
Strangeness . • • • • • IV, vi, 66 Stranger'd •• •• •• I, i, 203
Subject IV, vi, 107
Subscribed I, ii, 24
Subscription Ill, ii, iS
Succeed I, ii, 136
Such [Omission of at after] I, i, 208 Such... That •• •« n, ii, 115
Suggestion II, i, 73
Suited IV, vii, 6
Summoners Ill, ii, 59
Sumpter II, iv, 213
Sun I, i, 108
Superfluous II, iv, 263
Superfluous • • • • • • IV, i, 65
Superflux • . • • • • III, iv, 35
Super-serviceable • ^ • • II, ii, 16
Surfeit I, ii, II3
Suum, mun Ill, iv, 96
Swear'st I, i, 160
Swinburne'. 429
Swithold ni, iv, 114
Tadpole . . • • . . HI, iv, 124 Tailor made thee •• • • II, ii, 50
Taint I, i, 220
Takeall .. .. i. HI, i, 15
Taken I, iv, 325
Take physic, pomp • • • • III, iv, 33
502
INDEX
Taking • II, iv, x6o
Taking Ill, iv, 58
Tame IV, ii» 47
Tame • • • • . . IV, vi, 220
Tate's Version 467
Tell II» K S3
Tenant IV, i, 14.
Tend^. 11, i, 95
Tender-hefted • • • • II, iv, 168 Tender • • • weal • • • • I, iv, 203
Tenth day I» i» X7S
Terrible .. .. • • I, ii, 32 'VMXmmfor thai • . • . I, i, 167 That-iifMo/ •• •• I, i, 71 That-itf/ld/ •• ••IV,vii, 47 That-teril/r# •• •• II| iii» 4
That • • • as If iv, 56
That I am wretched • • IV, i, 63
That makes Ill, yi, 76
That nature which contemns IV, ii, 32 That patience • • • • II, iv, 268
That stirs II> iv, 271
That thing • IV, vi, 77
That' worthied • • • • II, ii, 116
The case IV, vi, 142
The creating •• .. I, ii, 14
The man that makes his toe III, ii, 31 The more • • • • • • V, iii, 169
The promised end • • • • V, iii« 264
The restoring • • • • IV^ iv, 9
The Text 353
Thee I, iv, 179
Thte^m thyself • • • • I, iv, 254 Thee • • • ye • • • thee . . IV, vi, 30
Theft IV, vi, 44
Their evidence • . • • III, vi, 34 Their papers is • • • • IV, vi, 260 Their . • • that • • • • V, iii, 2 Then they for sudden joy . • I, iv, 168 Thereat enraged • • • . IV, ii, 75 There is a cliff • . . . 'IV, i, 71 These kind of knaves • • II, ii, 96 This' A good block. • • . IV, vi, 181 This' a doll sight • • • • V, iii, 283 This two days • • • • I, iv, 69 Those • • . as [ellipsis] • • I, i, 96 Those wicked creatoies •• II, iv, 253
Though that IV, vi, 214
Though • • • to 't • • • • II, ii, 107
Thought-executing . • . . Ill, ii, 4 Thoughts defile • • , • III, vi, no
Thou wert Ill, iv, 98
Threading II, i, 119
Three-suited II. ii» 14
Three suits Ill, iv, 129
Through the sharp hawthorn III, iv, 45
Thuna'er Ill, iv, 147
Thwart I, iv, 277
Thy IV, i, 53
Thy state b^ns to threat • • IV, ii, 57
Tied II» iv, Z30
Tike m, vi, 68
Till • . • death • • • • II, iv, 115 Time, Soundest of his • • I, i, 293 Time, Greet the . • • • V, i, 54 Time, Shall find • • • • II, ii, 164
Times* IV, i, 46
Times, The best of our •• I, ii, 46
'Tis so IV, iii, 49
Tithing Ill, iv, 128
To be just Ill, V, 8
T obey Ill, iv, 141
To blame I, ii, 41
To effect Ill, i^ 53
To fall [transitive] • • II, iv, 164
To the charge •• •• I, ii, 121
To who V, iii, 249
Tbm • • • am [rhyme] • • lit iii> 20
Too short I, i, 71
Top the legitimate . • • • I, ii, 21
Tough V, in, 315
Toward II, i, 10
Toward HI, Ui, 17
Treachers • I, ii, 116
Trial Ill, vi, 34
Trick IV, vi, 105
Triird .. .. ..IV, iii. 12
Trowest I, iv, 117
Trundle-taU HI, vi, 68
Tucket n, i, 78
Tucket II, iv, 179
Turlygod II, iii^ 20
Tut I, ii, 124
Tutors ni, ii, 83
Two hours •• •• • • II, ii, 55
Uutia • 453
Unacconunodated • • • • HI, iv, 103
INDEX
503
Unbolted • • Unbutton here Unfee'd lawyer Unfortunate • • Ungovemed • • Unkind
Unkind [accent] Unnecessary Unnumbered Unpossessing Unprized • • Unsanctified • • Unsophisticated Unspoke • • Unstate .^ Untented • . Upon ••
Upon his party Upon respect Upright • • Usage • •
Validity Vanity . .
Vary . . Vaunt couriers Villain Virtue
Voice • •
Vulgar • •
Wage
Walk
Walking fire
Walks at fint cock
Wall.newt ••
Walls
Wantest
Warrant
Wash'd eyes
Water
Waterish
Wawl
Weaiy
Web and pin
n.
in, I,
IV, IV,
I,
in, II.
IV,
II. I,
IV,
III. I,
ni, II. ri.
IV,
II.
ii, 61
iv, 105 iv, 124 vi, 68 iv, 19
iv, 69 iv, 151
vi, 21 i, 67
vi, 272
iv, 102
". 95
iv, 294
vi, 87
i, 36
iv, 23
vi, 27
Iv, 25
. I. I, 80 . II. ". 33 . II. ii. 74 • III,, ii, 5 .III,vii, 77 . V, iii, 104 . V, iii, 273 . IV, vi, 209
. I. i.i5S
• IV, vii, 83 . Ill, iv, 109 . Ill, iv,lii . Ill, iv, 124 . V, iii, 77
• III, vi, 23
• I, iv, 304
• I, i, 267 . Ill, iv, 124
. I. i.2S7
. IV, vi, 178
. I. iii, 13
. Ill, iv, 112
Weeds IV, vii, 7
Well are worth .. • • I, 1,278 \i\aX ^whatever . . • . Ill, vi, 112 What—Wi*tf«f^r . . • . V, iii, 98 What like . , offensive . . IV, ii, 1 1
Whelkcd IV, vi, 71
Whe'r II, i, 53
Where— /tfter^r^ .. .. V, iii, 151 Where -w^^yvtfx .. .. I, ii, 79
Wherefore II, iv, 108
Which I, iv. 228
Whtch«<M/« w^iVA .. V, iii, 149
White herring. . . . . Ill, vi, 31 ^^H\io^which •• •• I, ii, 49
\^o^whom • . • . IV, iii, 7
Who-wi^M . • . . I, iv, 23
Who [personifying irrational
antecedent] . • . . IV, iii, 14 Who seem no less . • . , III, i, 23
Whoop, jug I, iv, 218
Wide Ill, iv, 107
Wind me I* ii, 93
Wisdom of nature . • • . I, ii, 99 Wonder -ttwif ^^11/ • . IV, vii, 41
Word IV, vi, 92
Word can wield • • • • I, i, 54 Word justly • • . . Ill, iv, 79
World . . . age . . . • IV, i, 10
Worships • I, iv, 260
Worst IV, i, 28
Worsted-stocking • . • • II, ii, 15
Worth I, i, 69
Would [omission of relative] III, iv, 25 Write happy • . • • V, iii, 36
Yeoman • • • • Vet
Yet better thus You less know how You were best • • Young bones • •
Your honour • •
• • III, vi, 13 . . I. iv. 337 . . IV, i, I . . II. iv. 135 . . I. iv, 93 . . II. iv. 159
• • I, ii, 83
Zed n. ii, 59
rocis
496
INDEX
Even o*cr • • . . . . IV, y% 80
ExhibiUon I, ii, 25
Expense and waste • • . • II, i, 100 Eyes, Wantest thoa • • • • III, vi, 23
Faery Quemi • • • • • • 391
Faint I, iv, 65
Faith'd II, i, 70
Falchion • • • • • # V, iii, 277
Fall and cease • • • • V, iii, 265
Fare thee • • • • • • I, i, 179
Fa, sol, la, mi • • • • I, ii, 129
Fast -/jT/dT •• •• •• I, i, 36
Father IV, ▼!, 218
Fathom and a half • • , • III, iv, 37
Fault V, iii, 193
VtaimB fear for .. . . IV, ii, 31
Fear'dof II, i, xii
Fears . , • • • • • • III, v, 3
Feature IV, ii, 63
Feelingly IV, vi, 147
Feet Ill, i, 32
Felicitate I, i, 74
Feird [omission of nom.] .. IV, iij 76 Fellow • • • • . . Ill, I, 48
Felt IV, vi, 183
Festinate • Ill, vii, 9
Fetches II» iv, 85
Fire and food is • • • . Ill, iv, 145
First Ill,' iv, 26
First cock • • • • • . Ill, iv, xii First of difference • • • • V, iii, 289
Fish I, iv, 16
Fitchew IV, vi, 121
Five wits . • • • • • III, iv, 56
Flaws II> iv, 282
Flax and white of eggs • . Ill, vii, X05
Flesh • • II, ii, 42
Flesh Ill, iv, 71
Fleshment •• •• •• II, ii, xi8
Flibbertigibbet • • • • III, iv, xio
Foins • • • • • • . • IV, vi, 244
Fool I, iv, 91
Fool of fortune . . . . IV, vi, 189 Fools do those villains pity . . IV, ii, 54 Fools had ne'er . • . . I, iv, x6o
Footed Ill, iii, 12
Foppery • I, ii, 112
Foppish • . • apbh [rhyme] • • I, iv, 161
Fop» I» »f 14
YoTmBonaecotmicf .. II» iv, 5a
Forbid thee Ill, iii, 19
Formystate V, i, 68
Fordid • V, iii, 256
Fordone V, iii/ 293
Fork I, i»i43
Forks IV, vi, X18
Fortnight I, iv, 289
Foxes V, iii, 23
Frateretto Ill, vi, 6
Fraught I, iv, 214
Free IV, vi, 80
Freedom I, i, x8o
Free things Ill, vi, 103
From our home • • • • II, i, 124 From this 'mfrom this Hnu . . I, i, 1 1 5
Frontlet I, iv, X82
Fruitfully IV, vi, 263
Fumiter IV, iv, 3
Gad I, ii, 26
Gait IV, vi, 236
Gallow Ill, ii, 44
Gzxb ^diaUet • • • • II, ii, 92
Garrick 439
Gasted II, i, 55
Generation '• I, i, 116
Gervinus 457
Give you good morrow . • II, ii, 154 Glass-gazing • • • • •. , II, ii, 16
Glib « I, i, 223
Gloucester [city of] • . I, v, x
Gloucester [spelling of] • • I» if 33 Goneril [derivation] • • I, i« 51
Gone, sir • IV, vi, 41
Good-years V, iii, 24
Gorgeous • • • • • • II, iv, 265
Gossamer • • • • • • IV, vi, 49
Go, you . . . * . . I, V, X
Go you, call I, iv, 73
Gloves Ill, iv, 84
Grace Ill, ii, 40
Graced palace . . • • I» iv, 239 Gracious my lord . • . • III, ii, 6x
Great II| ii> zoi
Greater • V, iii, a
Great vices • • . • . . IV, vi, 162 Great ^ox\^'» macrocosm • • IV, vi, 133
INDEX
497
Groom • • • • • • II, iv, 214
Gnardiaiis • • • • • • II» iv, 248
Halcyon H, ti, 73
Hallam 428
Handy-dandy • • • • IV, ▼!• 151 Uarmefs DularaHmt 6*^. IU» iv, 53
Hate IV, i, II
Hath , I, 1,190
Have yon wisdom •• •• I, iv, 88
Hazutt 421
Hearing of V, iii, 205
Hear, nature • • • • I» !▼» 269
Heart HI, !▼, 4
Heat If i»305
Hecate [dissyllable] • • I, i, 109
Hell-black III,vii, 59
Helps IV, iy, 10
Hemlock • IV, iv, 4
Hence and avoid my dght •• I, 1,123 Hence to-night •• •• I« 1*283
HKNn 4^
Here's I» i» 187
Here • • . where [as noons] • • I, 1, 260 He that keeps nor crust • • I, iv, 190
Hide all IV, vi, 163
High noises • • • • « • lU, vi, 109
HiU IV, vi, I
Him^ them^ and *im con- founded Ill, vii, 81
History I» >» 235
Hit together • » • • I, i, 301
Hog in sloth • • • • III, iv, 90
Hold, sir V, iii, 156
HouNSHXD 384
Holy cords 11, ii, 69
Hoppedance •• •• III, vi, 30
Horn 451
Horn is diy • • • • • • III, vi, 73
Horrible • . • • • • IV, vi, 3
Horse's health . • • • III, vi, 19 Hospitable favouxs • • • • HI, vii, 39
House, Becomes the • • II, iv, 149 How fearful [Dover Cliff].. IV, vi, 11
Howl II, iv, 207
Hudson •• • 431
Hood •« J 465
Hundred pound • • • « H, ii, 14 Hurricanoes • • • • m, ii, 2
42* sG
I am a man more sinnM . • HI, ii, 59
lam, lam , IV, vii, 70
Icf^IihaU IV, vi, 239
If for I want •• •• I, 1,223
If thou lovest me • • • • II, ii, 5
Idle I, iii, 17
Idle ^ IV, Iv, s
Idle IV, vi, 21
Idle and fond •• •• I, ii, 48
Images • II, iv, 86
Immediacy • V, iii, 66
Impertinency • • • . IV, vi, 172
Important • • • • • • IV, iv, 26
Impossibilities • • • • IV, vi, 74
Impress'd lances • • • • V, iii, 51
In [with verb of motion] . • V, iii, 51 In contempt • • • • • • II, iii, 8
Influence • I, ii, 118
Ingenious IV, vi, 278
Ingraffed • • • • • • I, i, 295
In mercy •• •• •• I, iv, 322
Innocent HI, vi, 7
Insanity •• •• »• •.412 In such conditions • • • • I, i, 205
IntelUgent Ill, i, 25
Intelligent • Ill, vii, II
Intelligent party • • • • III, v, 9
Interess'd I, i, 84
Intermission II» iv, 32
In the confined deep • . IV, i, 72
In the least I, i, 190
Into I, iv, 70
Intrinse Hi ii» 70
In your liking • • • • I, i, 232 Is [emphatic] • • • • IV, vi, 139
It IV, ii, 32
It head I, Iv, 209
I...whisae • IV, ii. 29
Jameson, Mrs •• •• ..426
Jealous V, 1, 56
Jealous curiosity •• •• I, Iv, 66
Jewels I» i|267
Judgement I, iv, 16
Judicious • • • • • • • ni, iv, 72
Joint stool HI, vi, 50
Jupiter It i»i77
Justicer •.• •• • • HI, vi, 21 Justicers IV, 11, 79
496
INDEX
Even o*cr • • . . . . IV, vii, 80
Exhibition I, ii, 25
Expense and waste . • . • II, i, 100 Eyes, Wantest thoa • • • . Ill, vi, 23
Faery Quemi 391
Faint I, iv, 65
Faith'd n, i, 70
Falchion • • • • • • V, iii, 277
Fall and cease • • • • V, iii, 265
Fare thee • . • • ••!,!, 179
Fa, sol, la, mi • • • • I> iif 129
Y2sX.^fixed •• •• •• I> i, 36
Father IV, vi, 218
Fathom and a half • • * • III, iv, 37 Fault • • • • • • • • V, iii, 193
Vt9x^ fear for •. . . IV, it, 31
rear*dof II, i, in
Fears • III, v, 3
Feature IV, ii, 63
Feelingly . . . . . . IV, vi, 147
Feet Ill, i, 32
Felicitate I, i, 74
Feird [omission of nom,] •• rV, ii^ 76
Fellow Ill, i, 48
Felt IV, vi, 183
Festinate Ill, vii, 9
Fetches II> iv, 85
Fire and food is • • • • III, iv, 145
Hrst Ill, iv, 26
First cock Ill, iv, iii
First of difference . • . . V, iii, 289
Fish I, iv, 16
Fitchew IV, vi, 121
Five wits Ill, iv, 56
Flaws II, iv, 282
Flax and white of eggs • • III, vii, X05 Flesh •• •• •• •• II, ii, 42
Flesh Ill, iv, 71
Fleshment II, ii, xx8
Flibbertigibbet . • • • III, iv, no
Foins IV, vi, 244
Fool I, iv, 91
Fool of fortune • • • • IV, vi, 189 Fools do those ^ains pity • . IV, ii, 54 Fools had ne'er • • . • I, iv, 160
Footed Ill, iii, 12
Foppery I, ii, 112
Foppish . . • apish [rhyme] • • I, iv, x6i
Fops I, il, f 4
Yox^onaccouniof .. II, iv, 5a
Forbid thee Ill, iu, 19
Formystate V, i, 68
Fordid V, iii, 256
Fordone V, iii/ 292
Fork !• 1,143
Forks IV, vi, 128
Fortnight I, iv, 289
Foxes V, iii, 23
Frateretto Ill, vi, 6
Fraught I, iv, 214
Free IV, vi, 80
Freedom I, i, 180
Free things Ill, vi, 103
From our home . • . • II, i, 124 From this ^from this Hnu . • I, i, 1 1 5
Frondet I, iv, 182
Fruitfully IV, vi, 263
Fumiter • • • • . . IV, iv, 3
Gad I, ii, 26
Gait rV, vi, 236
Gallow . • • • . . Ill, ii, 44 G^xh'^ dialect . • • • II, ii, 92
Garrick 439
Gasted II, i, 55
Generation '• I« i, 1x6
Gervinus 457
Give you good morrow • • II, ii, X54 Glass-gazing.. •• •.. II, ii, x6
Glib < I, i, 223
Gloucester [city of] • . I, ▼, I
Gloucester [spelling of] • • I, i, 32 Goneril [derivation] • • I, i» 51
Gone, sir IV, vi, 41
Good-years • • • * •• V, iii, 24
Goxgeous II, iv, 265
Gossamer • IV, vi, 49
Go, you • • • » • • I, Vf 1
Go you, call If iv, 73
Gloves Ill, iv, 84
Grace . • • • • • III, ii, 40
Graced palace • • . . I, iv, 239 Gracious my lord • • . • III, ii, 61
Great Hf ii, lox
Greater V, iii, a
Great vices IV, vi, X62
Great ^noM^ macrocosm • . IV, vi, X33
PR 2753 ,F5 v.5 C.3
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