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latrrttn  ffinllt 5e  Htbraru 


KING    LEAR    AND    CORNELIA. 


■  Lend  me  a  looking-glass  . 
If  that  her  breath  will  mist  or  stain  the  ston 
Why,  then  she  lives.' 


King  Lear.     Act  5,  Scene  3. 


Page  156. 


Hfrrrttn  i  ^^^ 


THE 


COMPLETE   WORKS 


WILLIAM    SHAKESPEARE, 


A    LIFE    OF   THE    POET,    EXPLANATORY    FOOT-NOTES,    CRITICAL 
NOTES,    AND    A    GLOSSARIAL    INDEX. 


gtavxjitvd    gxlltiou. 


Rf.v.    ITENR\'    N.    HUDSON,    LL.D 


IN    TIMINTY    I'OI.UMES. 

Vol.    XV. 


HOSTON.   U.S.A. 

CINN   .K:   COMI'.X.W,    IT  I'.I.I  .SI  1 1  ;K.S 

1899 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1881,  by 

Henry  N.  Hudson, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


KING   LEAR. 


FIRST  heard  of  through  an  entry  at  the  Stationers',  dated 
November  26,  1607,  and  reading  as  follows:  "A  book 
called  Mr.  William  Shakespeare's  History  of  King  Lear,  as  it 
was  played  before  the  King's  Majesty  at  Whitehall,  upon  St. 
Stephen's  night  at  Christmas  last,  by  his  Majesty's  Servants 
playing  usually  at  the  (jlobe  on  the  Bankside."  This  ascertains 
the  play  to  have  been  acted  on  the  26th  of  December,  1606. 
Most  likely  the  play  had  become  favourably  known  on  the  public 
stage  before  it  was  called  for  at  the  Court.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  contains  divers  names  and  allusions  evidently  borrowed  from 
Harsnet's  Declaration  of  Popish  Impostures,  which  appeared  in 
1603.  This  is  all  the  positive  information  we  have  as  to  the 
date  of  the  writing. 

There  are,  however,  several  passages  in  the  play  itself,  re- 
ferring, apparently,  to  contemporary  events,  and  thus  indicat- 
ing still  more  nearly  the  time  of  the  composition.  Of  these  it 
seems  hardly  worth  the  while  to  note  more  than  one.  In  Act  i., 
scene  2,  Gloster  says,  "  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  sequent 
effects."  A  great  eclipse  of  the  Sun  took  place  in  October,  1605, 
and  had  been  looked  forward  to  with  dread  as  portending  evil ; 
the  more  so,  because  an  eclipse  of  the  Moon  occurred  within  tiie 
space  of  a  month  previous.  And  John  Harvey  had,  in  1588, 
published  a  book  wherein,  with  "  the  wisdom  of  nature,"  he  had 
reasoned  against  the  common  belief,  that  such  natural  events 
were  ominous  of  disaster,  or  had  any  moral  significance  what- 
ever. To  all  which,  add  that  in  November,  1605,  the  dreadful 
.secret  of  the  (Gunpowder  I'lot  came  to  light,  so  that  one  at  all 
superstitiously  inclined  mi<(ht  well  sny  that  "nature  finds  ilscli" 


4  KING    LEAR. 

scourged  by  the  sequent  effects,"'  and  that  "  machhiations,  hoUow- 
ness,  treachery,  and  all  ruinous  disorders  follow  us  disquietly  to 
our  graves"  :  putting  all  this  together,  we  have  ample  ground  for 
inferring  the  play  to  have  been  written  when  those  events  were 
fresh  in  the  public  mind.  This  of  course  brings  down  the  date 
of  composition  at  least  to  near  the  close  of  the  year  1605. 

The  tragedy  was  printed  at  least  twice,  some  editors  say  three 
times,  in  the  year  1608,  the  form  being  in  each  case  a  small 
quarto.  It  also  reappeared,  along  with  the  other  plays,  in  the 
folio  of  1623.  Considerable  portions  of  the  play,  as  given  in  the 
quartos,  arc  omitted  in  the  folio  ;  in  particular  one  whole  scene, 
the  third  in  Act  iv.,  which,  though  perhaps  of  no  great  account 
on  the  stage,  is,  in  the  reading,  one  of  the  sweetest  and  loveliest 
in  all  Shakespeare.  This  naturally  infers  the  folio  to  have  been 
printed  from  a  playhouse  copy  in  which  the  play  had  been  cut 
down,  to  abridge  the  time  of  performance.  —  I  must  add  that  the 
play  has  several  passages  which  were  most  certainly  not  written 
by  Shakespeare.  Two  of  these  have  considerable  length,  one 
including  seventeen  lines,  the  other  fourteen.  By  whom  they 
were  written,  and  why  they  were  inserted,  it  were  probably  vain 
to  speculate.  All  such  interpolations,  so  far  as  I  am  clear  about 
them,  are  here  distinguished  by  having  asterisks  set  before  the 
lines. 

The  story  of  King  Lear  and  his  three  daughters  is  one  of 
those  old  legends  with  which  Mediteval  Romance  peopled  the 
"dark  backward  and  abysm  of  time,"  where  fact  and  fancy 
appear  all  of  one  colour  and  texture.  In  Shakespeare's  time, 
the  legendary  tale  which  furnished  the  main  plot  of  this  drama 
was  largely  interwoven  with  the  popular  literature  of  Europe. 
It  is  met  with  in  various  forms  and  under  various  names.  The 
oldest  extant  version  of  it,  in  connection  with  British  history,  is 
in  Geoifrty  of  Monmouth,  a  Welsh  monk  of  the  twelfth  century, 
who  translated  it  from  the  ancient  British  tongue  into  Latin. 
From  thence  it  was  abridged  by  the  Poet's  favourite  chronicler, 
Holinsiied.  I  give  a  condensed  statement  of  the  Holinshed 
version. 

Lcir,  the  son  of  Baldud,  was  admitted  ruler  over  tb.e  Britons 
in  the  year  of  the  world  3105.     He  was  a  prince  of  right-noble 


KING    LEAR.  5 

demeanour,  governing  his  land  and  subjects  in  great  wealth. 
He  had  three  daughters,  named  Gonorilla,  Regan,  and  Cor- 
dilla,  whom  he  greatly  loved,  but  the  youngest,  Cordilla,  tar 
above  the  two  elder.  When  he  was  come  to  great  age,  he 
thought  to  understand  the  affections  of  his  daughters,  and  to 
prefer  her  whom  he  best  loved  to  the  succession.  Therefore  he 
first  asked  Gonorilla,  the  eldest,  how  well  she  loved  him.  She, 
calling  her  gods  to  witness,  protested  that  she  loved  him  more 
than  her  own  life,  which  by  right  and  reason  should  be  most 
dear  to  her.  Being  well  pleased  with  this  answer,  he  demanded 
of  the  second  liow  well  slie  loved  him.  She  answered,  confirm- 
ing her  saying  with  great  oaths,  that  she  loved  him  more  than 
tongue  could  express,  and  far  above  all  other  creatures  in  the 
world.  Then  he  called  Cordilla  before  him,  and  asked  what 
account  she  made  of  him.  She  answered  as  follows  :  "  Knowing 
the  great  love  and  fatherly  zeal  which  you  have  always  borne 
towards  me,  I  protest  that  I  have  loved  you  ever,  and  while  I  live 
shall  love  you,  as  my  natural  father;  and,  if  you  would  under- 
stand more  of  the  love  I  bear  you,  assure  yourself  that  so  mucli 
as  you  are  worth,  so  much  I  love  you,  and  no  more." 

The  father,  being  nothing  content  with  this  answer,  married 
his  two  eldest,  the  one  to  the  Duke  of  Cornwall  named  Hen- 
ninus,  the  other  to  the  Duke  of  Albania  called  Maglanus  ;  and 
willed  that  his  land  should  be  divided  betwi.\t  them  after  his 
death,  and  that  one-half  thereof  should  be  immediately  assigned 
to  them  ;  but  for  Cordilla  he  reserved  nothing.  Yet  it  happened 
that  one  of  the  Princes  of  Gallia  whose  name  was  Aganippus, 
hearing  of  the  beauty,  womanhood,  and  good  dispositions  of 
Cordilla,  desired  her  in  marriage;  to  whom  answer  was  made 
that  he  might  have  her,  !)ut  could  have  no  dower,  for  all  was 
promised  to  her  sisters.  Aganippus,  notwithstanding  this  an- 
swer, took  her  for  wife,  only  moved  thereto  by  respect  for  her 
person  and  amiable  virtues. 

After  Leir  was  fallen  into  age,  tiiu  Dukes  that  li.ul  married 
his  two  elder  daughters  rose  against  him  in  arms,  and  reft  from 
him  the  government  of  the  land.  He  was  put  to  his  portion, 
that  is,  to  live  after  a  rate  a.ssigned  to  him,  which  in  process  of 
time  was  diminished.      Hut  his  greatest  grief  was  from  the  un- 


6  KING    LEAR. 

kindness  of  his  daughters,  who  seemed  to  think  that  what  their 
father  had  was  too  much,  the  same  being  ever  so  little.  Going 
from  the  one  to  the  other,  he  was  brought  to  such  misery,  that 
in  the  end  he  fled  the  land,  and  sailed  into  Gallia,  to  seek  some 
comfort  of  Cordilla,  whom  before  he  hated.  The  lady,  hearing 
he  was  arrived  in  poor  estate,  first  sent  him  privily  a  sum  of 
money,  to  apparel  himself  withal,  and  to  retain  a  number  of 
servants  that  might  attend  upon  him.  She  then  appointed  him 
to  come  to  the  Court ;  which  he  did,  and  was  so  honourably  and 
lovingly  received,  that  his  heart  was  greatly  comforted  :  for  he 
was  no  less  honoured  than  if  he  had  been  king  of  the  whole 
country.  Aganippus  also  caused  a  mighty  army  to  be  put  in 
readiness,  and  a  great  navy  of  ships  to  be  rigged,  to  pass  over 
into  Britain  with  his  father-in-law.  When  this  army  and  navy 
were  ready,  Leir  and  his  daughter,  with  her  husband,  took  the 
sea,  and,  arriving  in  Britain,  fought  with  their  enemies,  and 
discomfitted  them  in  battle,  Maglanus  and  Henninus  being  slain. 
Leir  was  then  restored  to  his  kingdom,  which  he  ruled  for  the 
space  of  two  years  after  this,  and  then  died,  forty  years  after  he 
first  began  to  reign. 

The  same  story,  with  certain  variations,  is  told  briefly  by 
Spenser  in  The  Faerie  (2iieene,  book  ii.,  canto  lo;  also,  at  much 
more  length,  in  a  versified  form  written  by  John  Higgins,  and 
published  in  The  Mirror  for  Magistrates  ;  also  in  an  old  ballad, 
printed  in  Percy's  Reliques :  but  this  latter  was  probably  subse- 
quent to  the  tragedy,  and  partly  founded  upon  it.  It  appears, 
also,  by  an  entry  at  the  Stationers',  dated  May  14,  1594,  that 
there  was  an  older  play  on  the  same  subject.  Finally,  a  play, 
entitled  "  The  True  Chronicle  History  of  King  Leir  and  his  three 
Daughters,"  was  entered  at  the  Stationers',  May  8,  1605,  and 
published.  Possibly  this  may  have  been  another  play  than  that 
heard  of  in  1594,  but  probably  it  was  the  same.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  the  piece  is  a  wretched  thing,  and  cannot  be  supposed  to 
have  contributed  any  thing  towards  Shakespeare's  tragedy,  un- 
less it  may  have  suggested  to  him  the  theme. 

Thus  much  as  to  what  tlie  Poet  had  before  him  for  the  main 
plot  of  A'ifig  Lear.  The  subordinate  plot  of  Gloster  and  his 
sons  was  doubtless  partly  founded  upon  an  episodical  chapter  in 


KING    LEAK.  7 

Sir  I'hilip  Sidney's  Arcadia,  entitled  "  The  pitiful  state  and 
story  of  the  Paphlagonian  unkind  King  and  his  kind  son ;  first 
related  by  the  son,  then  by  the  blind  father."  Of  this,  also,  I 
give  a  condensed  statement. 

The  "  Princes'"  who  figure  in  Sidney's  work,  being  overtaker 
by  a  furious  storm,  are  forced  to  seek  shelter  in  a  hollow  rock 
where,  tl^mselves  unseen,  they  overhear  a  dialogue  between  ai 
aged  man  and  a  young,  both  poorly  arrayed,  extremely  weather 
beaten ;  the  old  man  blind,  the  young  man  leading  him.  At 
length,  the  talk  became  so  sad  and  pitiful,  that  the  princes  were 
moved  to  go  out  to  them  and  ask  the  younger  what  they  were. 
He  answered,  "  Sirs,  I  see  well  you  are  strangers,  that  know  not 
our  misery,  so  well  known  here.  Indeed  our  state  is  such  that, 
though  nothing  is  so  needful  to  us  as  pity,  yet  nothing  is  more 
dangerous  unto  us  than  to  make  ourselves  so  known  as  may  stir 
pity.  This  old  man,  lately  rightful  Prince  of  this  country  of 
Paphlagonia,  was,  by  the  hard-hearted  ungreat fulness  of  a  son 
of  his,  deprived  not  only  of  his  kingdom,  but  of  his  sight,  the 
riches  which  Nature  grants  to  the  poorest  creatures.  By  this 
and  other  unnatural  dealings  he  hath  been  driven  to  such  grief, 
that  even  now  he  would  have  me  lead  him  to  the  top  of  this 
rock,  thence  to  cast  himself  headlong  to  death ;  and  so  would 
have  made  me,  who  received  my  life  from  him,  to  be  the  worker 
of  his  destruction.  But,  noble  gentlemen,  if  either  of  you  have  a 
father,  and  feel  what  dutiful  affection  is  engrafted  in  a  son's 
heart,  let  me  entreat  you  to  convey  this  afflicted  Prince  to  some 
place  of  rest  and  security." 

Before  they  could  make  answer,  the  father  began  to  speak. 
"Ah,  my  son,"  said  he,  "how  evil  an  historian  are  you.  that 
leave  out  the  chief  knot  of  all  the  discourse,  my  wickcdne.ss, 
my  wickedne.ss  I  If  thou  doest  it  to  spare  my  ears,  assure  thy- 
self thou  dost  mistake  me.  I  take  to  witness  that  Sun  which 
you  see,  that  nothing  is  so  welcome  to  me  as  the  publishing  of 
my  shame.  Therefore  know  you,  gentlemen,  that  what.soever 
my  son  hath  .said  is  true.  But,  besides,  this  also  is  true,  that, 
having  had  in  lawful  marriage  this  son,  I  was  carried  by  a  bas- 
tard son  of  mine,  first  to  niislike,  then  (o  hate,  lastly  to  do  my 
best  to  destroy  this  son.      If  I  should  tell  you  what  ways  he  uscvl, 


5  KING    LEAR. 

to  bring  me  to  it,  I  sliould  tediously  trouble  you  with  as  much 
poisonous  hypocrisy,  desperate  fraud,  smooth  malice,  hidden 
ambition,  and  smiling  envy,  as  in  any  living  person  could  be 
harboured.  But  no  remembrance  of  naughtiness  delights  me 
but  mine  own ;  and  methinks  the  accusing  his  traps  might  in 
some  manner  excuse  my  fault,  which  1  loathe  to  do.  The  con- 
clusion is,  that  I  gave  order  to  some  servants  of  mine  to  lead 
this  son  out  into  a  forest,  and  there  to  kill  him. 

"  But  those  thieves  spared  his  life,  letting  him  go  to  live  poorly  ; 
which  he  did,  giving  himself  to  be  a  private  soldier  in  a  country 
near  by.  But,  as  he  was  ready  to  be  greatly  advanced  for  some 
noble  service  which  he  did,  he  heard  news  of  me  ;  who  suffered 
myself  to  be  so  governed  by  that  unlawful  and  unnatural  son, 
that,  ere  I  was  aware,  I  had  left  myself  nothing  but  the  name  of 
a  king.  He,  soon  growing  weary  even  of  this,  threw  me  out  of 
my  seat,  and  put  out  my  eyes  ;  and  then  let  me  go,  neither  im- 
prisoning nor  killing  me,  but  rather  delighting  to  make  me  feel 
my  misery.  And  as  he  came  to  the  crown  by  unjust  means,  so 
he  kept  it  as  unjustly  ;  disarming  all  his  own  countrymen,  so 
that  no  man  durst  show  so  much  charity  as  to  lend  me  a 
hand  to  guide  my  dark  steps ;  till  this  son,  forgetting  my  abom- 
inable wrongs,  and  neglecting  the  way  he  was  in  of  doing  him- 
self good,  came  hither  to  do  this  kind  office  which  you  see  him 
performing  towards  me,  to  my  unspeakable  grief.  Above  all,  it 
grieves  me  that  he  should  desperately  adventure  the  loss  of 
his  life  for  mine,  as  if  he  would  carry  mud  in  a  chest  of  crystal : 
for  well  I  know,  he  that  now  reigneth  will  not  let  slip  any 
advantage  to  make  him  away,  whose  just  title  may  one  day 
shake  the  seat  of  a  never-secure  tyranny.  For  this  cause  I  craved 
of  him  to  lead  me  to  the  top  of  this  rock,  meaning  to  free  him 
from  so  serpentine  a  companion  as  I  am.  But  he,  finding  what 
I  purposed,  only  therein  since  he  was  born  showed  himself  dis- 
obedient to  me.  And  now,  gentlemen,  you  have  the  true  story ; 
which  I  pray  you  publish  to  the  world,  that  my  mischievous 
proceedings  may  be  the  glory  of  his  filial  piety,  the  only  reward 
now  left  for  so  great  merit." 


KING   LZ^K 


ErijerKT;.  Bassri  Sac  td  Gcse:.         3:  xeuZ- 

■a.-n^miHil!--. 


ACT   L 
—  -  .     -  .. ~.— ^r  "'  "  ~-  ~r  eSecifd^  "Hie  Tkite 


f^--»fr"^  -^.v  ;_-:s  r.     See  va^  xi;  ;ia|!;  315,  nn?r  3=- 


lO  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

values  most ;  for  equalities  are  so  weigh'd,-  that  curiosity  in 
neither  can  make  choice  of  either's  moiety.-^ 

Kent.    Is  not  this  your  son,  my  lord  ? 

Glos.  His  breeding,  sir,  hath  been  at  my  charge  :  I  have 
so  often  blush'd  to  acknowledge  him,  tlmt  now  I  am  brazed 
to't. 

Kent.    I  cannot  conceive  you. 

Glos.  Sir,  this  young  fellow's  mother  could ;  whereupon 
she  grew  round-womb'd,  and  had,  indeed,  sir,  a  son  for  her 
cradle  ere  she  had  a  husband  for  her  bed.  Do  you  smell  a 
fault? 

Kejit.  I  cannot  wish  the  fault  undone,  the  issue  of  it  being 
so  proper.'' 

Glos.  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 
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? 

Ediii.    No,  my  lord. 

Glos.  My  Lord  of  Kent :  remember  him  hereafter  as  my 
honourable  friend. 

Edm.    My  services  to  your  lordship. 

Kent.    I  must  love  you,  and  sue  to  know  you  better. 

Edfti.    Sir,  I  shall  study  deserving. 


2  That  is,  the  portions  are  weighed  out  or  arranged  so  equally,  or  in  such 
equality,     h.  proleptical  mode  of  speech,  like  many  others. 

3  A/(j/c/i' properly  means  half,  but  was  used  for  any  part  or  portion. — 
Curiosity  is  close  scrutiny,  or  scrupulous  exactness.  —  This  speech  goes  far  to 
interpret  Lear's  subsequent  action,  as  it  shows  that  the  division  of  the  king- 
dom has  already  been  concluded,  and  the  several  portions  allotted,  and  so 
infers  the  trial  of  professions  to  be  a  sort  of  pet  device  with  the  old  King,  a 
thing  that  has  no  purpose  but  to  gratify  a  childish  whim.  The  opening  thus 
forecasts  Lear's  madness. 

*  Here,  as  usual  in  Shakespeare,  proper  is  handsome,  ox  fine-looking. 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAR.  II 

Glos.    He  hath  been  out  nine  }ears,  and  away  he  shall 
again. ^ —  \_Sentiet  within.'\  The  King  is  coming. 

Enter  Lear,  Albany,  Cornwall,  Goneril,  Regan,  Cordelia, 
and  Attendants. 

Lear.    Attend  the  Lords  of  France  and  Burgund)-,  Gloster. 

Glos.    I  shall,  my  liege.     \_Exciiiii  Gloster  and  Edmund. 

Lear.    Meantime  we  shall  express  our  darker  purpose.**  — 
Give  me  the  map  there.  —  Know  that  we've  divided 
In  three  our  kingdom  ;  and  'tis  our  fast  intent 
To  shake  all  cares  and  business  from  our  age, 
Conferring  them  on  younger  strengths,  while  we 
Unburden'd  crawl  toward  death.  —  Our  son  of  Cornwall, 
And  you,  our  no  less  loving  son  of  .Albany, 
We  have  this  hour  a  constant  will"  to  publish 
Our  daugliters'  several  dowers,  that  future  strife 
May  be  prevented  now.^    The  princes,  France  and  Burgundy, 
Great  rivals  in  our  youngest  daughter's  love. 
Long  in  our  Court  have  made  their  amorous  sojourn, 
-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? 

5  As  Edmund's  villainy  is  a  leading  force  in  the  dramatic  action,  an  inti- 
mation of  the  causes  which  have  been  at  work  preparing  him  for  crime  is 
judiciously  given  here  in  the  outset  of  the  play.  —  Gl<ftter's  meaning  in  this 
last  speech  clearly  is,  that  he  has  kept  Edmund  away  from  home  nine  years, 
and  intends  sending  him  away  again,  in  order  to  avoid  the  shame  of  his 
presence,  or  because  he  has  so  "  often  blush'd  to  acknowledge  him."  We 
may  suppose  Edmund's  absence  to  have  been  spent  in  travelling  abroad,  or 
in  pursuing  his  studies,  or  in  some  kind  of  foreigni  service.  And  this  ac- 
counts for  his  not  being  acquainted  with  Kent. 

*  Tear's  "  darker  purpose  "  is  probably  that  of  surprising  his  daughters 
into  a  rivalry  of  affection.  This  he  has  hitherto  kept  daik  aliout ;  though 
his  scheme  of  dividing  the  kingdom  was  known,  at  least  in  the  Court. 

''  "  Comfatif  will  "  is  fixrti  or  detrrmhii-d  will ;  the  same  as  "fast  intent." 

*  "  That  future  strife  may  be  prevented  by  what  we  now  do." 


12  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I 

That  we  our  largest  bounty  may  extend 

Where  nature  doth  with  merit  cliallenge.^  —  Goneril, 

Our  eldest-born,  speak  first. 

Gon.    Sir, 
I  love  you  more  than  words  can  wield  the  matter ;  ^^ 
Dearer  than  eyesight,  space,  and  liberty  ; 
Beyond  what  can  be  valued,  ricli  or  rare  ; 
No  less  than  life,  with  grace,  health,  beauty,  honour ; 
As  much  as  child  e'er  loved,  or  father  found  ; 
A  love  that  makes  breath  poor,  and  speech  unable  : 
Beyond  all  manner  of  so  much  I  love  you.^^ 

Cord.    \_Aside7\    What  shall  Cordelia  do  ?     Love,  and  be 
silent. 

Lear.    Of  all  these  bounds,  even  from  this  line  to  this, 
With  shadowy  forests  and  with  champains  rich'd,i- 
With  plenteous  rivers  and  wide-skirted  meads, 
We  make  thee  lady  :  '^  to  thine  and  Albany's  issue 
Be  this  perpetual.  —  What  says  our  second  daughter, 
Our  dearest  Regan,  wife  to  Cornwall?     Speak. 

Reg.    Sir, 
I'm  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  ; 
Only  she  comes  too  sliort,  that  I  profess  ^^ 

s  Nature  is  put  for  natural  affi;ctioii,  and  with  merit  is  used  adverbially: 
"  That  I  may  extend  my  largest  bounty  where  natural  affection  justly,  or 
meritoriously,  challenges  it"  ;  that  is,  claims  it  as  due.  —  CROSBY. 

10  "  My  love  is  a  matter  so  weighty  that  words  cannot  ex/>ress  or  sustain  it." 

11  Beycd  all  assignable  quantity.  "  I  love  you  so  much  that  there  is  no 
l^ossibility  of  telling  iiow  much." 

12  Rich'diox  enriched. —  Champains  arc  plains  ;  hence  fertile. 

18  The  lord  of  a  thing  is,  strictly  speaking,  the  owner  of  it.  And  lady  is 
here  used  as  the  counterpart  of  lord  in  this  sense.  So  that  to  make  one  the 
lady  of  a  thing  is  to  make  her  the  owner  or  possessor  of  it, 

1*  The  Poet  often  uses  sel/'whh  the  sense  oi  self-same. 

15  "She  comes  short  of  m(;  in  this,  that  I  profess,"  &c. 


SCENE  I.  KING     LEAR.  1 3 

Myself  an  enemy  to  all  other  joys, 

Which  the  most  precious  square  of  sense  '^  possesses ; 

And  find  I  am  alone  felicitate  '" 

In  your  dear  Highness'  love. 

Cord,    [y^jr/c/c]  I'hen  poor  Cordelia  ! 

And  yet  not  so  ;  since,  I  am  sure,  my  love's 
More  richer  than  my  tongue. 

Lear.    To  thee  and  thine  hereditary  ever 
Remain  this  ample  third  of  our  fair  kingdom ; 
No  less  in  space,  validity,!^  and  pleasure, 
Than  that  conferr'd  on  Goneril.  —  Now,  our  joy, 
Although  our  last,  not  least ;  to  whose  young  love 
The  vines  of  France  and  milk  of  Burgundy 
Strive  to  be  interess'd  ;  ^^  what  can  you  say,  to  draw 
A  third  more  opulent  than  your  sisters  ?     Speak. 

Cord.    Nothing,  my  lord. 

Lear.    Nothing  ! 

Cord.    Nothing. 

Lear.    Nothing  will  come  of  nothing  :  speak  again. 

Cord.    Unhappy  that  I  am,  I  cannot  heave 
My  heart  into  my  mouth  :  -'^   I  love  your  Majesty 
According  to  my  bond  ;-'   nor  more  nor  less. 

16  By  square  of  sense  I  understand  fulness  of  sensibility  or  capacity  of  joy. 
So  that  the  meaning  seems  to  be,  "  Which  the  finest  susceptibility  of  happi- 
ness is  capable  of."  Some  have  stumbled  at  the  word  square  here.  But  why 
not  "  square  of  sense  "  as  well  as  circle  of  the  senses  f  which  would  be  a  very 
intelligible  expression. 

1"  Felicitate,  a  shortened  form  oi  felicitated,  is  fortunate  or  made  happy. 
The  Poet  lias  many  preterites  so  shortened ;  as  consecrate,  suffocate,  &c. 

IS  Validity  for  value  or  worth.     Repeatedly  so. 

1!*  To  interest  and  to  interesse  arc  not,  perhaps,  different  spellings  of  the 
same  verb,  but  two  distinct  words,  though  of  the  same  import ;  the  one 
being  derived  from  the  Latin,  the  other  from  the  French  interesser. 

^i*  We  have  the  same  thought  well  expressed  in  The  Maids  Tragedy  o\ 
Beaumont  and  I-'letcher,  i.  i :  "  My  mouth  is  much  too  narrow  for  my  heart." 

21  Bond^zs,  used  of  any  thing  that  binds  or  obliges  ;  that  is,  duty. 


14  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Lear.    How,  how,  Cordelia  !  mend  your  speech  a  httle, 
Lest  it  may  mar  your  fortunes. 

Cord.  Good  my  lord, 

You  have  begot  me,  bred  me,  loved  me  :  I 
Return  those  duties  back  as  -^  are  right  fit, 
Obey  you,  love  you,  and  most  honour  you. 
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  carry 
Half  my  love  with  him,  half  my  care  and  duty  : 
Sure,  I  shall  never  marry  like  my  sisters, 
To  love  my  father  all. 

Lear.    But  goes  thy  heart  with  this  ? 

Cord.  Ay,  good  my  lord. 

Lear.    So  young,  and  so  untender? 

Cord.    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, 
The  mysteries  of  Hecate,  and  the  night ; 
By  all  the  operation  of  the  orbs 
From  whom  "-^  we  do  exist,  and  cease  to  be ; 
Here  I  disclaim  all  my  paternal  care, 
Propincjuity  and  property  of  blood, 
And  as  a  stranger  to  my  heart  and  me 
Hold  thee,  from  this,  for  ever.     The  barbarous  Scythian, 
Or  he  that  makes  his  generation  ""^  messes 
To  gorge  his  appetite,  shall  to  my  bosom 
Be  as  well  neighbour'd,  pitied,  and  relieved. 
As  thou  my  sometime  "^  daughter. 

22  As  is  here  a  relative  pronoun,  referring  to  those  duties  ;  which  or  that. 
The  word  was  used  very  loosely  in  the  Poet's  time. 

2"  The  relatives  who  and  which  were  used  indiscriminately. 

2*  Probably  meaning  his  children;  perhaps  simply  his  kind. 

25  Sometime,  hero, \s  former  ox  formerly.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  146,  note  12. 


SCENE  1.  KING    LEAR.  1 5 

Kent.  Good  my  liege,  — 

Lear.    Peace,  Kent  ! 
Come  not  between  the  dragon  and  his  wrath  : 
I  loved  her  most,  and  thought  to  set  my  rest 
On  her  kind  nursery  :   hence,  and  avoid  my  sight  !  -^ 
Sj  be  my  grave  my  peace,  as  here  I  give 
Her  father's  heart  from  her  !  —  Call  France  :  who  stirs  ? 
Call  Burgundy.  —  Cornwall  and  Albany, 
With  my  two  daughters'  dowers  digest  this  third  : 
Let  pride,  which  she  calls  plainness,  marry  her. 
I  do  invest  you  jointly  with  my  power. 
Pre-eminence,  and  all  the  large  effects 
That  troop  with  majesty.     Ourself,  by  monthly  course, 
With  reservation  of  an  hundred  knights 
By  you  to  be  sustain'd,  shall  our  abode 
Make  with  you  by  due  turns.     Only  we  still  retain 
The  name,  and  all  th'  additions  to  a  king ;-'' 
The  sway,  revenue,  execution  of  the  rest, 
Beloved  sons,  be  yours  ;  which  to  confirm. 
This  coronet  part  between  you.  \_Giving  the  crcncm. 

Kent.  Royal  Lear, 

Whom  I  have  ever  honour'd  as  my  King, 
Loved  as  my  father,  as  my  master  follow'd, 
As  my  great  patron  thought  on  in  my  prayers,  — 

Lear.   The  bow  is  bent  and  drawn,  make  from  the  shaft. 

Kent.    Let  it  fall  rather,  though  the  fork  invade 
The  region  of  my  heart :  be  Kent  unmannerly. 
When  Lear  is  mad.     What  wouldst  thou  do,  old  man? 
Think'st  thou  that  duty  shall  have  dread  to  speak, 

2*  As  Kent  has  said  nothing  to  provoke  this  snappish  ordt-r,  wc  are  prob- 
ably to  suppose  that  Lear,  knowing  his  man,  anticipates  a  bold  remon- 
strance from  him,  and,  in  his  excited  mood,  flares  up  at  the  thought  of  sucli 
a  thing.     So  lie  says  to  him  a  liitlc  after,  "  Out  of  my  sight." 

'^'  All  the  titles  or  marks  of  honour  pertaining  to  royalty. 


1 6  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

When  power  to  flattery  bows  ?     To  plainness  honour's  bound, 

When  majesty  falls  to  folly.     Reverse  thy  doom, 

And  in  thy  best  consideration  check 

This  hideous  rashness  :  answer  my  life  my  judgment,^^ 

Thy  youngest  daughter  does  not  love  thee  least ; 

Nor  are  those  empty-hearted  whose  low  sound 

Reverbs-^  no  hollowness. 

Lear.  Kent,  on  thy  life,  no  more. 

Kent.    My  life  I  never  held  but  as  a  pawn 
To  wage  against  thine  enemies ;  ^*^  nor  fear  to  lose  it, 
Thy  safety  being  the  motive. 

Lear.  Out  of  my  sight  ! 

Kent.    See  better,  Lear  ;  and  let  me  still  remain 
The  true  blank  of  thine  eye.^i 

Lear.    Now,  by  Apollo,  — 

Kent.  Now,  by  Apollo,  King, 

Thou  swear'st  thy  gods  in  vain. 

Lear.    [  Graspi7ig  his  sword.']   O  vassal,  miscreant ! 

Alb. 

Co?'i 

Kent.    Do  ; 
Kill  thy  physician,  and  the  fee  bestow 
Upon  the  foul  disease.     Revoke  thy  gift ; 
Or,  whilst  I  can  \ent  clamour  from  my  throat, 
I'll  tell  thee  thou  dost  evil. 

Lear.  Hear  me,  recreant ! 

On  thine  allegiance,  hear  me  ! 

28  "  T^et  my  life  be  answerable  for  my  judgment,"  or,  "  I  will  stake  my 
life  on  the  truth  of  what  I  say." 

29  Reverbs  for  reverberates  ;  probably  a  word  of  the  Poet's  own  coining. 
Here  it  has  the  sense  of  report  ox  proclaim. 

30  To  wage  is  to  wager,  to  stake  or  hazard.     So,  "  I  never  held  my  life  but 
as  a  thing  to  bo  impawned  or  put  in  pledge  against  your  enemies." 

31  The  blank  is  the  tnark  at  which  men  shoot.     "  See  better,"  says  Kent, 
"  and  let  me  be  the  mark  to  direct  your  sight,  that  you  err  not." 


\  Dear  sir,  forbear. 
7'n.  ) 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAK.  I^ 

Since  thou  hast  sought  to  make  us  break  our  vow,  — 
\\'hich  we  durst  never  yet,  —  and  with  strain'd  pride 
To  come  between  our  sentence  and  our  power,  — 
^^'hich  nor  our  nature  nor  our  place  can  bear,  — 
Our  potency  made  good,  take  thy  reward. ^2 
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 
Upon  our  kingdom  :  if,  on  the  tenth  day  following, 
Thy  banish'd  trunk  be  found  in  our  dominions, 
The  moment  is  thy  death.     Away  !  by  Jupiter, 
This  shall  not  be  revoked. 

Kent.   Fare  thee  well,  King  :  since  thus  thou  wilt  appear. 
Freedom  lives  hence,  and  banishment  is  here.  - — 
\^To  Cord.]  The  gods  to  their  dear  shelter  take  thee,  maitl, 
That  justly  think'st,  and  hast  most  rightly  said  !  — 
\To  Reg.  ami  Gox.]  And  your  large  speeches    may   }our 

deeds  approve, ^^ 
That  good  effects  may  spring  from  words  of  love.  — 
'i'hus  Kent,  O  princes  !  bids  you  all  adieu ; 
He'll  shape  his  old  course  in  a  country  new.  [/T.v//. 

FlourisJi.     Re-enter  Gloster,  with  Fr.-vnce,  Burgunuv,  mtii 
Attendants. 

Gios.    Here's  France  and  Burgundy,  my  noble  lord. 

Lear.    My  Lord  of  Burgundy, 
We  first  address  towards  you,  who  with  this  King 
Hath  rivall'd  for  our  daughter  :  what,  in  the  least. 
Will  you  require  in  present  dower  with  her, 
Or  cease  your  (juest^-'  of  love? 

^-  That  is,  "  Take  thy  reward  in  or  by  a  demonstration  of  our  power." 
^2  Disease  in  its  old  sense  o{  discomfort  or  what  causes  uneasiness. 
8*  .-Ipprove  in  the  sense  of  make  good,  ox  prove  true.     Often  so. 
'5  A  quest  is  .1  seeking  or  pursuit :  the  expedition  in  which  .1  kniglit  was 
cny.ijed  is  often  so  named  in  The  /'aerie  Queenr. 


lO  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Bur.  Most  royal  Majesty, 

I  crave  no  more  than  hath  your  Highness  offer'd, 
Nor  will  you  tender  less. 

Lear.  Right-noble  Burgundy, 

When  she  was  dear  to  us,  we  did  hold  her  so ; 
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. 

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 ; 

Election  makes  not  up  on  such  conditions. 

Lear.    Then  leave  her,  sir  ;  for,  by  the  power  that  made  me, 
I  tell  you  all  her  wealth.  —  \To  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 
Than  on  a  wretch  whom  Nature  is  ashamed 
Almost  t'  acknowledge  hers. 

France.  This  is  most  strange, 

That  she,  who  even  but  now  was  your  best  object. 
The  argument  of  your  praise,  balm  of  your  age, 
The  best,  the  dearest,  should  in  this  trice  of  time 

36  With  our  displeasure  added  to  it ;  as  in  the  common  phrase  oi piecing 
out  a  thing.  — ■  Like,  in  the  next  hne,  was  continually  used  where  we  should 
xiSQ please.     It  likes  7)ie  is,  in  old  language,  the  same  as  /  like  it. 

37  Owes  and  owns  are  but  different  forms  of  the  same  word. 

38  "  Such  a  stray,  as  to  match."  So  again  in  the  next  speech  :  "  So  mon- 
strous, as  to  dismantle."  The  Poet  omits  as  in  such  cases,  when  the  verse 
is  against  it. 


SCENE   !.  KING    LEAR.  IQ 

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  affection 
Fall'n  into  taint ;  39  which  to  believe  of  her, 
Must  be  a  faith  that  reason  without  miracle 
Should  never  plant  in  me. 

Cord.  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 
It  is  no  vicious  blot,  nor  other  foulness, 
No  unchaste  action,  or  dishonour'd  step. 
That  hath  deprived  me  of  your  grace  and  favour ; 
But  even  the  want  of  that  for  which  I'm  richer, 
A  still-soliciting  eye,''^  and  such  a  tongue 
As  I  am  glad  I  have  not,  though  not  to  have  it 
Hath  lost  me  in  your  liking. 

Lear.  Better  thou 

Hadst  not  been  born  than  not  t'  have  pleased  me  better. 

France.    Is  it  but  this,  a  tardiness  in  nature 
Which  often  leaves  the  history  unspoke 
That  it  intends  to  do?  —  My  Lord  of  Burgundy, 
What  say  you  to  the  lady?     Love's  not  love 


89  "  7l/«j/ iJtr  fall'ii  "  is  the  meaning.  Tamt  {ox  attaint  ox  attainder.  "  Tlie 
affection  which  you  before  professed  must  have  fallen  under  reproach  or 
impeachment  as  fickle  or  false."  —  "  Of  such  unnatural  degree,  that  monsters 
it''  is  of  such  unnatural  degree  as  to  be  monstrous,  ox  prove  her  a  monster. 

<"  That  is,  "  If  //  be  because  I  want,"  or  "  U  you  are  doing  this  because  I 
want."     The  use  oi  for  in  the  sense  oi  because  is  very  frequent. 

''1  "  A  soliciting  eye  "  here  means  a  greedy,  self-seeking,  covetous  eye.  'Ihc 
Poet  often  has  still  in  the  sense  of  ever  or  continually.  —  The  preceding 
line  will  hardly  bear  a  grammatical  analysis,  but  the  sense  is  plain  enough. 
"The  want  of  that  for  which  "  means,  simply,  "that  want  for  whicli,"  or,  if 
you  please,  "  the  want  of  that  for  the  want  of  which." 


20  KING    LEAR.  ACT  L 

When  it  is  mingled  with  regards  '*-  that  stand 
Aloof  from  th'  entire  point.     Will  you  have  her 
She  is  herself  a  dowry. 

Bur.  Royal  Lear, 

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'm  sor-ry,  then,  you  have  so  lost  a  father 
That  you  must  lose  a  husband. 

Cor.  Peace  be  with  Burgundy  ! 

Since  that  respects  of  fortune  are  his  love, 
I  shall  not  be  his  wife. 

France.    Fairest  Cordelia,  that  art  most  rich,  being  poor  ; 
Most  choice,  forsaken  ;  and  most  loved,  despised  ! 
Thee  and  thy  virtues  here  I  seize  upon  : 
Be't  lawful  I  take  up  what's  cast  away.  — 
Gods,  gods  !   'tis  strange  that  from  their  cold'st  neglect 
My  love  should  kindle  to  inflamed  respect.  — 
Thy  dowerless  daughter,  King,  thrown  to  my  chance, 
Is  Queen  of  us,  of  ours,  and  our  fair  France  : 
Not  all  the  dukes  of  waterish  ^"^  Burgundy 
Can  buy  this  unprized  precious  maid  of  me. — 
Bid  them  farewell,  Cordelia,  though  unkind  : 
Thou  losest  here,  a  better  where  to  find. 

Lear.   Thou  hast  her,  France  :  let  her  be  thine  ;  for  we 
Have  no  such  daughter,  nor  shall  ever  see 
That  face  of  hers  again.  — Therefore  be  gone 
Without  our  grace,  our  love,  our  benison."^''  — 

^2  Regards  for  considerations  or  inducements.     The  same  with  respects  in 
the  fourth  speech  after.     So  the  latter  word  is  commonly  used  by  the  Poet. 

43  Waterish  is  here  used  with  a  dash  of  contempt.     Burgundy,  a  level, 
well-watered  country,  was  famous  for  its  pastures  and  dairy-produce. 

44  The  Poet  uses  benison  for  blessing,  when  he  wants  a  trisyllable. 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAR.  21 

Come,  noble  Burgundy. 

{^Flourish.     Exeunt  Lear,  Burgundy,  Cornwall, 
Albany,  CiLOSTER,  and  Attendants. 

France.    Bid  farewell  to  your  sisters. 

Cord.    Ye  jewels  of  our  father,  with  wash'd  eyes 
Cordelia  leaves  you  :   1  know  you  what  you  are  ; 
And,  like  a  sister,  am  most  loth  to  call 
Your  faults  as  they  are  named.      Love  well  our  fiither  : 
To  your  professed  ^-^  bosoms  I  commit  him  ; 
But  yet,  alas,  stood  I  within  his  grace, 
I  would  prefer  him  to  a  better  place. 
So,  farewell  to  you  both. 

Reg.    Prescribe  not  us  (nir  duties. 

Gon.  Let  your  study 

Be  to  content  your  lord,  who  hath  received  you 
At  fortune's  alms.     You  have  obedience  scanted. 
And  well  are  worth  the  want  that  you  have  wanted.'"' 

Coril.    Time  sliall  unfold  what  plighted'*'''  cunning  hides  : 
Who  cover  faults,  at  last  shame  them  derides. 
Well  may  you  prosper  ! 

France.  Come,  my  fair  Cordelia. 

[^Exeunt  France  and  Co-rhvaw. 

Gon.  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. 

Reg.  That's  most  certain,  and  with  you  ;  next  month  with 
lis. 

Gon.  You  see  how  full  of  changes  his  age  is  ;  the  obser- 
vation we  have  made  of  it  iialh  not  been  little  :  he  always 

^'^  Prof'ess^d  iov  pro/esuni,' ;  th'- p.issivc  form  with  tlic  active  sense.  So 
in  Paradise  Lost,  i.  486:  "  Likinini,'  liis  M.ikiTto  the.^/-(73fV/ ox." 

•"''  "  Yoii  well  deserve  to  want  tliiit  in  wtiicti  you  have  been  wanting." 
■•"  Flight, pleat,  anrl  plait  an-  hut  (lifTercnf  forms  of  the  same  word,  all 
meanint'  to  /:■/,/  rnmplicate,  and  so  make  dark. 


22  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

loved  our  sister  most ;  and  with  what  poor  judgment  he  hath 
now  cast  her  off  appears  too  grossly. 

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  to  receive  from  his  age,  not  alone 
the  imperfections  of  long-engraffed  condition,'*^  but  there- 
withal 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  between 
France  and  him.  Pray  you,  let  us  hit  together  : '''■^  if  our 
father  carry  authority  with  such  dispositions  as  he  bears,  this 
last  surrender  of  his  will  but  offend  us. 

Reg.    We  shall  further  think  of  it. 

Gon.   We  must  do  something,  and  i'  the  heat.^"  \_Exeuni. 

Scene  II.  —  A  Hall  in  the  Ear/  0/  Gloster's  Castle. 

Enter  Edmund,  with  a  letter. 

Edm.    Thou,  Nature,  art  my  goddess  ;  to  thy  law 
My  services  are  bound. ^     Wherefore  should  I 
Stand  in  the  plague  of  custom,  and  permit 

48  Temper,  or  disposition,  set  and  confirmed  by  long  habit. 

49  "  Let  us  agree  or  unite  in  the  same  plan  or  course  of  action."  — The 
meaning  of  what  follows  probably  is,  "  If  the  King  continue  in  the  same 
rash,  headstrong,  and  inconstant  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." 

''"  So  in  the  common  phrase,  "Strike  while  the  iron's  hot." 
1  In  this  speech  of  Edmund  you  see,  as  soon  as  a  man  cannot  reconcile 
himself  to  reason,  how  his  conscience  flies  off  by  way  of  appeal  to  Nature, 
who  is  sure  upon  such  occasions  never  to  find  fault;  and  also  how  shame 
sharpens  a  predisposition  in  the  heart  to  evil.  —  COLERIDGE. 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAR.  23 

The  curiosity  of  nations  to  deprive  me,- 

For  that  I  am  some  twelve  or  fourteen  moonshines 

Lag  of  a  brother  ?     Why  bastard  ?  wherefore  base  ? 

When  my  dimensions  are  as  well  compact, 

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  ? 

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. 

Legitimate  Edgar,  I  must  have  your  land  : 

Our  father's  love  is  to  the  bastard  p]dmund 

As  to  th'  legitimate  :   fine  word.  — ki^ifimafe  / 

Well,  my  legitimate,  if  this  letter  speed, 

And  my  invention  thrive,  Edmund  the  base 

Shall  top  th'  legitimate.^     I  grow  ;   I  prosper  :  — 

Now,  gods,  stand  up  for  bastards  ! 

Enter  Gloster. 

G/o.^.    Kent  banish'd  thus  !  and  France  in  rholcr  i)arted  !'^ 
And  the  King  gone  to-night  !  subscribed  his  power  ! 
Gonfined  to  exhibition  !     .Ml  this  done 
Upon  the  gad  \-' —  Edmund,  iiow  now  !  what  news? 

'■^  To  "  stand  in  the  plague  of  custom  "  is,  in  Edmund's  sense,  to  lie  under 
the  ban  of  conventional  disability.  —  "The  curiosity  of  nations"  is  the 
moral  strictness  of  civil  institutions;  especially  the  law  of  marriage,  and  the 
exclusion  of  Ijasfards  from  the  rights  of  inheritance.  — To  deprive  was  some- 
times used  for  to  cut  off,  to  disinherit.  Ex/teredo  is  rendered  by  this  word 
in  the  old  dictionaries. 

*  To  top  is  to  rise  above,  to  surpass.     \  fre(]U(.nt  usage. 

■•  Parted  for  departed.     Also  a  frequent  usagt. 

^  "  Subscribed  liis  power,"  is  yielded  or  given  up  his  power;  as  when 
we  say  a  man  lias  signed  away  his  wealth,  his  freedom,  or  his  rights. — 
"Confined  to  exhibition"  is  limited  to  an  allowance.    So  in  Ben  Jonsons 


24  KING    LKAR.  ACT  I. 

Edni.    So  please  your  lordship,  none. 

\_Pufti?ig  up  the  letter. 

Glos.    Why  so  earnestly  seek  you  to  put  up  that  letter? 

Edm.    I  know  no  news,  my  lord. 

Glos.    What  paper  were  you  reading? 

Edm.    Nothing,  my  lord. 

Glos.  No?  What  needed,  then,  that  terrible  ^  dispatch 
of  it  into  your  pocket?  the  quality  of  nothing  hath  not  such 
need  to  hide  itself.  Let's  see  :  come  ;  if  it  be  nothing  I 
shall  not  need  spectacles. 

Edm.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  pardon  me  :  it  is  a  letter  from 
my  brother,  that  I  have  not  all  o'cr-read  ;  and,  for  so  much 
as  I  have  perused,  I  find  it  not  fit  for  your  o'er-looking. 

Glos.    Give  me  the  letter,  sir. 

Edm.  I  shall  offend,  either  to  detain  or  give  it.  The  con- 
tents, as  in  part  I  understand  them,  are  to  blame. 

Glos.    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. 

Glos.  [Reads.]  This  policy  and  reverence  of  age  "^  makes 
the  world  bitter  to  the  best  of  our  times  ;  keeps  our  fortunes 
from  us  till  our  oldncs^  cannot  relish  (hem.  I  begin  to  fitid 
an  idle  andfond^  bondage  in  the  oppression  of  aged  tyranny  ; 
who  sways,  not  as  it  hath  potver,  but  as  it  is  suffered.      Come 

Poetaster :  "Thou  art  a  younger  brother,  and  hast  nothing  but  thy  bare 
exhibition:'  The  word  is  still  so  used  in  the  English  Universities. —  L^itJw 
the  gad  is  in  haste  ;  the  same  as  upon  the  spur.  A  gad^'2i.s  a  sharp-pointed 
piece  of  steel,  used  in  driving  oxen  ;  "hence,  goaded. 

6  Terrible  because  done  as  \{ from  terror ;  terrified. 

"^  That  is,  this  policy,  or  custom,  of  reverencing  age.  The  idea  is,  that 
the  honouring  of  fathers  and  mothers  is  an  old  superstition,  which  smart 
boys  ought  to  cast  off,  knock  their  fathers  on  the  head,  and  so  have  a  good 
time  while  they  are  young.  We  have  a  like  expression  in  scene  4:  "This 
milky  gentleness  and  course  of  yours."    See  vol.  xiv.  page  148,  note  22. 

8  Here,  as  commonly  in  Shakespeare, yi)»af  is /()o//j/4. 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR.  2$ 

to  me,  that  of  this  I  may  speak  more..  If  our  father  tvould 
sleep  till  I  waked  him,  you  should  enjoy  half  his  revenue  for 
ever,  and  live  the  beloved  of  your  brother,  Edgar. 

Hum  —  conspiracy  ! — Sleep  till  I  waked  him,  you  should 
enjoy  half  his  revenue.  —  My  son  Edgar  !  Had  he  a  hand 
to  write  this?  a  heart  and  brain  to  breed  it  in? — When 
came  this  to  you  ?  who  brouglit  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. 

Glos.    You  know  the  character  to  be  your  brother's  ? 

Edm.  If  the  matter  were  good,  my  lord,  I  durst  swear  it 
were  his  ;  but,  in  respect  of  that,  I  would  fain  think  it  were 
not. 

Glos.    It  is  his. 

Edm.  It  is  his  hand,  my  lord  ;  but  I  hope  his  heart  is  not 
in  the  contents. 

Glos.    Has  he  never  before  sounded  you  in  this  business? 

Edm.  Never,  my  lord  :  but  I  have  heard  him  oft  maintain 
it  to  be  fit,  that,  sons  at  perfect  age,  and  fathers  declining, 
the  father  should  be  as  ward  to  the  son,  and  the  son  manage 
his  revenue. 

Glos.  O  villain,  villain  !  His  very  opinion  in  the  letter  ! 
Abhorred  villain  !  Unnatural,  detested,^  brutish  villain  ! 
worse  than  brutish  !  —  Go,  sirrah,  seek  him;  I'll  apprehend 
him.     Abominable  villain  !     Where  is  he  ? 

Edm.  I  do  not  well  know,  my  lord.  If  it  shall  jjlease  you 
to  suspend  your  indignation  against  my  brother  till  you  can 
derive  from  him  better  testimony  of  his  intent,  you  shall  run 
a  certain  course  ;  where,'"  if  you  violently  proceed  against 
him,  mistaking  his  purpose,  it  would  make  a  great  gap  in 

9  Detested  for  detestable.  The  Poet  so  uses  a  good  many  words  ending 
in  -ed.     Sec  vol.  x.  page  172,  note  35. 

10  W'here  and  whereas  were  used  indiscriminately.  —  Here,  "a  certain 
course  "  is  a  safe  or  sure  course. 


26  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I, 

your  own  honour,  and  shake  in  pieces  the  heart  of  his  obe- 
dience. I  dare  pawn  down  my  hfe  for  him,  that  he  hath  writ 
this  to  feel  my  affection  to  your  Honour,  and  to  no  other 
pretence  ^^  of  danger. 

Glos.   Think  you  so  ? 

Edm.  If  your  Honour  judge  it  meet,  I  will  place  you 
where  you  shall  hear  us  confer  of  this,  and  by  an  auricular 
assurance  have  your  satisfaction  ;  and  that  without  any  fur- 
ther delay  than  this  very  evening. 

Glos.    He  cannot  be  such  a  monster  — 

Edm.    Nor  is  not,  sure. 

Glos.  — to  his  father,  that  so  tenderly  and  entirely  loves 
him.  —  Heaven  and  Earth  !  —  Edmund,  seek  him  out ;  wind 
me  into  him,^-  I  pray  you  :  frame  the  business  after  your 
own  wisdom.  I  would  unstate  myself  to  be  in  a  due  resolu- 
tion.^-^ 

Edm.  I  wdll  seek  him,  sir,  presently;  convey  i'*  the  busi- 
ness as  I  shall  find  means,  and  acquaint  you  withal. 

Glos.  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  sequent 
effects  :  *^  love  cools,  friendship  falls  off,  brothers  divide  ;  in 
cities,  mutinies  ;  in  countries,  discord  ;  in  palaces,  treason  ; 
and   the   bond   crack'd  'twixt  son  and  father.     This  villain 

11  Pretence  was  very  often  used  for  intention  or  purpose.  See  vol.  vii. 
page  187,  note  2. 

12  Me  is  here  expletive.  —  Wind  into  him  is  the  same  as  our  phrase 
"worm  yourself  into  him";  that  is,  find  out  his  hidden  purpose. 

13  "  I  would  give  my  whole  estate,  all  that  I  possess,  to  be  satisfied  or  as- 
sured in  the  matter."     The  Poet  often  has  resolve  in  this  sense. 

14  To  convey,  as  the  word  is  here  used,  is  to  manage  or  carry  through  a 
thing  adroitly,  or  as  by  sleight  of  hand. 

15  "  Though  reason  or  natural  philosophy  may  make  out  that  these 
strange  events  proceed  from  the  regular  operation  of  natural  laws,  and  so 
have  no  moral  purpose  or  significance,  yet  we  find  them  followed  by  calam- 
ities, as  in  punishment  of  our  sins." 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR.  2/ 

of  mine  comes  under  the  prediction  ;  there's  son  against 
father  :  the  King  falls  from  bias  of  nature  ;  there's  father 
against  child.  We  have  seen  the  best  of  our  time  :  machina- 
tions, hoUowness,  treachery,  and  all  ruinous  disorders,  follow 
us  discjuietly  to  our  graves.  Find  out  this  villain,  Edmund ; 
it  shall  lose  thee  nothing ;  do  it  carefully.  And  the  noble 
and  true-hearted  Kent  banish'd  !  his  offence,  honesty  !  'Tis 
strange.  \_Exi/. 

Edm.  This  is  the  excellent  foppery  of  the  world,  that, 
when  we  are  sick  in  fortune,  —  often  the  surfeit  of  our  own 
behaviour,  —  we  make  guilty  of  our  disasters  the  Sun,  the 
Moon,  and  the  stars:  as  if  we  were  villains  by  necessity; 
fools  by  heavenly  compulsion  ;  knaves,  thieves,  and  treachers,'^ 
by  spherical  predominance  ;  drunkards,  liars,  and  adulterers, 
by  an  enforced  obedience  of  planetary  influence  ;  and  all  that 
we  are  evil  in,  by  a  divine  thrusting  on.  An  admirable  eva- 
sion of  whoremaster  man,  to  lay  his  goatish  disposition  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,  I  am  rough  and  lecherous.  Tut, 
I  should  have  been  that  I  am,  had  the  maidenliest  star  in 
the  firmament  twinkled  on  my  bastardizing.     Edgar  — 

Enter  Edgar. 

And  pat  he  comes  like  the  catastrophe  of  the  old  comedy.'** 

"■'  Trcachers  for  traitors.     The  word  is  used  by  Chaucer  and  Spenser. 

•'  W'arburton  thinks  that  the  dotages  of  judicial  astrology  were  meant  to 
be  satirized  in  this  speech.  Coleridge  remarks  upon  Edmund's  jihiiosophiz- 
ing  as  follows:  "Thus  scorn  and  misantliropy  arc  often  the  anticipations 
and  mouthpieces  of  wisdom  in  tlie  detection  of  superstitions.  Both  individ- 
uals and  nations  may  be  free  from  such  prejudices  by  being  below  tiiem.  as 
well  as  by  rising  above  them." 

l**  Perhaps  alluding,  satirically,  to  the  awkward  catastrophes  of  the  old 
comedies,  which  were  coarsely  contrived  s<i  as  to  have  the  persons  enter, 
pat,  just  when  they  were  wanted  on  the  st.age. —  Cue,  as  here  used,  is 
prompt-word  or  //////.  —  [iedlam,Kn  old  corruption  of  liethlehfm,  was  a  well- 


28  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I 

My  cue  is  villainous  melancholy,  with  a  sigh  like  Tom  o' 
Bedlam.  —  O,  these  echpses  do  portend  these  divisions  !  fa, 
sol,  la,  mi.  19 

Edg.  Now  now,  brother  Edmund  !  what  serious  contem- 
plation are  you  in  ? 

Edm.  I  am  thinking,  brother,  of  a  prediction  I  read  this 
other  day,  what  should  follow  these  eclipses. 

Edg.    Do  you  busy  yourself  with  that? 

Edm.  I  promise  you,  the  effects  he  writes  of  succeed 
unhappily  :  -^  as  of  unnaturalness  between  the  child  and  the 
parent;  death,  dearth,  dissolutions  of  ancient  amities;  divi- 
sions in  State ;  menaces  and  maledictions  against  king  and 
nobles  ;  needless  diffidences,-'  banishment  of  friends,  dis- 
sipation of  cohorts,  nuptial  breaches,  and  I  know  not 
what. 

Edg.    How  long  have  you  been  a  sectary  astronomical? 2- 

Edm.    Come,  come  ;  when  saw  you  my  father  last? 

Edg.   The  night  gone  by. 

Edm.    Spake  you  with  him? 

Edg.    Ay,  two  hours  together. 

known  hospital  for  the  insane.  — •  To7n  was  a  name  commonly  given  to  Bed- 
lamites. An  instance  of  it  will  be  seen  afterwards  in  Edgar. —  Edmund  is 
here  pretending  not  to  be  aware  of  his  brother's  entrance. 

1^  "  Shakespeare  shows  by  the  context  that  he  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  property  of  these  syllables  in  solmization,  which  imply  a  series  of  sounds 
so  unnatural  that  ancient  musicians  prohibited  their  use.  Edmund,  speak- 
ing of  the  eclipses  as  portents,  compares  the  dislocation  of  events,  the  times 
being  out  of  joint,  to  the  unnatural  and  offensive  sounds  fa  sol  la  mi''  So 
says  Dr.  Burney.  But  Mr.  Chappell,  perhaps  a  better  authority,  assures 
Mr.  W.  A.  Wright,  the  Clarendon  editor,  that  there  is  no  foundation  for 
Burney's  remark;  and  that  "  Edmund  is  merely  singing  to  himself  in  order 
not  to  seem  to  observe  Edgar's  approach." 

-"  Tliat  is,  turn  out  badly.  The  Poet  often  uses  success  for  issue  or  conse- 
quence, whether  good  or  bad.     The  usage  was  common. 

21  Diffidences  for  distrust ings,  ruptures  of  confidence.     An  old  usage. 

22  "  How  long  have  you  belonged  to  the  sect  of  astronomers  ?  "  Judicial 
astrology,  as  it  is  called,  formerly  had  its  schools  and  professors. 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR.  29 

Edm.  Parted  you  in  good  terms?  Found  you  no  dis- 
pleasure in  him  by  word  nor  countenance  ? 

Edg.    None  at  all. 

Edm.  liethink  yourself  wherein  you  may  have  offended 
him ;  and  at  my  entreaty  forbear  his  presence  till  some  little 
time  hath  (qualified  the  heat  of  his  displeasure  ;  which  at  this 
instant  so  rageth  in  him,  that  with  the  mischief  of  your  person 
it  would  scarcely  allay. 

Edg.    Some  villain  hath  done  me  wrong. 

Edm.  That's  my  fear.  I  pray  you,  have  a  continent ^3  for- 
bearance 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  arm'd. 

Edg.    Arm'd,  brother  ! 

Edm.  Brother,  I  advise  you  to  the  best ;  I  am  no  honest 
man  if  there  be  any  good  meaning  toward  you.  I  have  told 
you  what  I  have  seen  and  heard  ;  but  faintly,^*  nothing  like 
the  image  and  horror  of  it :  pray  you,  away, 

Edg.    Shall  I  hear  from  you  anon? 

Edm.    I  do  serve  you  in  this  business.  —       {^Exit  Edgar. 
.'\  credulous  father  !  and  a  brother  noble, 
Whose  nature  is  so  far  from  doing  harms. 
That  he  suspects  none  ;  on  whose  foolish  honesty 
My  practices 25  ride  easy  !     I  see  the  lousiness. 
Let  me,  if  not  by  birth,  have  lands  by  wit : 
All  with  me's  meet  that  I  can  fashion  fit.  \_E.\it. 

28  Continent  m  its  old  sense  oi  self-restrained  or  subdued. 

2*  Faintly  is  imperfectly,  and  qualifies  told. 

25  Contrivance, plot,  stratagem  are  old  meanings  oi practice. 


30  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Scene  III.  —  A  Room  in  Albany's  Palace. 
Enter  Goneril  and  Oswald. 

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, 
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. 
You  shall  do  well ;  the  fault  of  it  I'll  answer.  \_Horns  within. 

Osw.    He's  coming,  madam  ;   I  hear  him. 

Go7i.    Put  on  what  weary  negligence  you  please, 
You  and  your  fellows  ;  I'd  have  it  come  to  question  : 
If  he  distaste  it,  let  him  to  my  sister. 
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  !     Now,  by  my  life, 
Old  fools  are  babes  again  ;  and  must  be  used 
With  checks,  when  flatteries  are  seen  abused. 
Remember  what  I've  said. 

Os7iu.  Very  well,  madam. 

Gon.    And  let  his  knights  have  colder  looks  among  you  : 
What  fows  of  it,  no  matter  ;  advise  your  fellows  so. 
I  would  breed  from  hence  occasions,  and  I  shall. 
That  F  may  speak  :   I'll  write  straight  to  my  sister. 
To  hold  my  very  course.     Prepare  for  dinner.         \_Exetint 


SCENE  IV.  KING     LEAR.  3I 

Scene  IV. — A  Hall  in  the  Same. 

Enter  Kent,  disguised. 

Kent.    If  but  as  well  I  other  accents  borrow, 
That  can  my  speech  defuse, ^  my  good  intent 
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,  — 
So  may  it  come  !  —  thy  master,  whom  thou  lovest, 
Shall  find  thee  full  of  labours. 

Horns  within.     Enter  Lk-\r,  Knights,  and  Attendants. 

Lear.    Let  me  not  stay  a  jot  for  dinner ;  go  get  it  ready. 
\^Exit  an  Attendant.]  —  How  now  !  what  art  thou  ? 

Ke7it.   A  man,  sir. 

Lear.  What  dost  thou  profess  ?  What  wouldst  thou  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  honest ; 
to  converse-  with  him  that  is  wise,  and  says  little  ;  to  fear  judg- 
ment ;  to  fight  when  I  cannot  choose  ;  and  to  eat  no  fish.*^ 

1  To  defuse  (sometimes  spelt  diffuse)  is  to  confuse,  and  to  disguise  by 
confusing ;  though  the  general  sense  of  disorder  seems  to  lie  at  the  bottom 
of  the  word.  It  appears  that  the  form  defuse  was  common  in  the  Poet's 
time.  So  in  Armin's  Nest  of  Ninnies :  "  It  is  hard  that  the  taste  of  one 
apple  should  distaste  the  whole  \\xm^e^  oi  X\\\s  defused  chaios."  See,  also, 
vol.  xii.  page  121,  note  8.  —  Kent  has  disguised  his  person  so  as  to  pass  un- 
recognized ;  and  now  he  is  apprehensive  that  his  speech  or  accents  may 
betray  him. 

2  To  converse  signifies  properly  to  keep  company,  to  have  commerce  with. 
His  meaning  is,  that  he  chooses  for  his  companions  men  who  are  not  tat- 
tlers or  talebearers. 

8  Hating  fish  on  the  fast-days  of  the  Church,  though  enjoined  by  the  civil 
authorities,  was  odious  to  the  more  advanced  Protestants  .is  a  badge  of 
popery.  So  in  Marston's  Dutch  Courtezan  :  "  I  trust  I  am  none  of  the 
•wicked  that  eat  fish  a  fridays."  This  is  probahlv  the  reason  why  Kent 
makes  eating  no  fish  a  recommendation  to  employment. 


32  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Lear.   What  art  thou  ? 

Ke7it.  A  very  honest-hearted  fellow,  and  as  poor  as  the 
King. 

Lear.  If  thou  be  as  poor  for  a  subject  as  he  is  for  a  king, 
thou  art  poor  enough.     What  wouldst  thou  ? 

Keitt.    Service. 

Lear.    Who  wouldst  thou  serve  ? 

Kent.    You. 

Lear.    Dost  thou  know  me,  fellow? 

Kent.  No,  sir ;  but  you  have  that  in  your  countenance 
which  I  would  fain  call  master. 

Lear.    What's  that? 

Kent.    Authority. 

Lear.    What  services  canst  thou  do  ? 

Kent.  I  can  keep  honest  counsel,  ride,  run,  mar  a  curious 
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  ? 

Ke)it.  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, 
ho,  dinner!  —  Where's  my  knave?'*  my  Fool?  —  Go  you, 
and  call  my  Fool  hither.  —  \_Exit  an  Attendant. 

Enter  Oswald. 

Vou,  you,  sirrah,  where's  my  daughter? 

Osw.    So  please  you, —  \^Exit. 

Lear.    What   says   the  fellow  there?    Call  the   clotpolP 

*  Knave  was  a  common  term  of  familiar  endearment. 

S  Clot  is  clod,  and  poll  is  head ;  so  that  dotpoll  comes  to  blockhead. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  33 

back.     \_Exif  a  Knight.]  —  Where's  my  Fool,  ho?     I  think 
the  world's  asleep. — 

Re-enter  the  Knight. 

How  now  !  Where's  that  mongrel? 

Kniglit.    He  says,  my  lord,  your  daughter  is  not  well. 

Lear.  Why  came  not  the  slave  back  to  me  when  I  call'd  him  ? 

Knight.  Sir,  he  answered  me  in  the  roundest  ^  manner,  he 
would  not. 

Lear.    He  would  not ! 

Knight.  My  lord,  I  know  not  what  the  matter  is ;  but, 
to  my  judgment,  your  Highness  is  not  entertain'd  with  that 
ceremonious  affection  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. 

L^ar.    Ha  !  sayest  thou  so  ? 

Knight.  I  beseech  you,  pardon  me,  my  lord,  if  I  be  mis- 
taken ;  for  my  duty  cannofbe  silent  when  I  think  your  High- 
ness wronged. 

Lear.  Thou  but  remember'st  me  of  mine  own  concep- 
tion :  I  have  perceived  a  most  faint  neglect  of  late  ;  which  I 
have  rather  blamed  as  mine  own  jealous  curiosity  than  as  a 
very  pretence  "^  and  purpose  of  unkindness  :  I  will  look  fur- 
ther 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, 
the  Fool  hath  much  pined  away.^ 

6  Round  is  blunt,  downriglit,  plain-ipoken.     See  vol.  xii.  page  84,  note  16. 

7  "  Jealous  curiosity  "  seems  to  mean  a  suspicious,  prying  scrutiny,  on 
the  watch  to  detect  slights  and  neglects.  —  PreUnce,  again,  for  intent  or  Je- 
iigf,_  —  Yery  in  the  sense  of  real  or  deliberate.  —  The  ]J.as&agc  is  rather 
curious  as  discovering  a  sort  of  double  consciousness  in  the  old  King. 

«  This  aptly  touches  the  keynote  of  the  Fool's  character.  '"Ihe  Fool." 
says  Coleridge,  "  is  no  comic  buffoon  to  make  the  groundlings  laugh,  —  no 
forced  condescension  of  Shakespeare's  genius  to  the  taste  of  his  audience. 


34  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Lear.  No  more  of  that ;  I  have  noted  it  well.  —  Go  you, 
and  tell  my  daughter  I  would  speak  with  her.  \_Exit  an  At- 
tendant.] —  Go  you,  call  hither  my  Fool.  —  \_Exit  an  Atten- 
dant.] 

Re-enter  Oswald. 

O,  you  sir,  you,  come  you  hither,  sir :  who  am  I,  sir? 

Osw.    My  lady's  father. 

Lear.  My  lady's  father !  my  lord's  knave  :  you  whore- 
son dog  !  you  slave  !  you  cur  ! 

Osw.  I  am  none  of  these,  my  lord ;  I  beseech  your 
pardon. 

Lear    Do  you  bandy  looks  with  me,  you  rascal  ? 

\_Str iking  him. 

Osiv.    I'll  not  be  struck,  my  lord. 

Kent.    Nor  tripp'd  neither,  you  base  football  player. 

\_Tripping  up  his  heels. 

Lear.  I  thank  thee,  fellow )  thou  servest  me,  and  I'll  love 
thee. 

Kent.  Come,  sir,  arise,  away  !  I'll  teach  you  differences  : 
away,  away  !  If  you  will  measure  your  lubber's  length  again, 
tarry :  but  away  !  go  to  ;  have  you  wisdom  ?  so. 

\_Pushes  Oswald  out. 

Lear.  Now,  my  friendly  knave,  I  thank  thee  :  there's 
earnest  of  thy  service.  [  Giving  Kent  money. 

Enter  the  Fool. 

Fool.    Let  me  hire  him  too.  —  Here's  my  coxcomb.^ 

[  Offering  Kent  Ids  cap. 

Accordingly  the  Poet  prepares  for  his  introduction,  vvhicli  he  never  does 
with  any  of  his  common  clowns  and  Fools,  by  bringing  him  into  living  con- 
nection with  the  pathos  of  the  play.  He  is  as  wonderful  a  creation  as  Cali- 
ban :  his  wild  babblings  and  inspired  idiocy  articulate  and  gauge  the  hor- 
rors of  the  scene." 

9  A  coxcomb  was  one  of  the  badges  of  an  "  allowed  Fool."  It  was  a  cai) 
with  a  piece  of  red  cloth  sewn  upon  the  top,  to  resemble  the  comb  of  a  cock. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  35 

Lear.    How  now,  my  pretty  knave  !  how  dost  thou? 

Fool.   Sirrah,  you  were  best  take  my  coxcomb. 

Kent.    Why,  Fool? 

Fool.  Why,  for  taking  one's  part  that's  out  of  favour. 
Nay,  an  thou  canst  not  smile  as  the  wind  sits,'"  thou'lt 
catch  cold  shortly :  there,  take  my  coxcomb.  Why,  this 
fellow  has  banished  two  on's  daughters,  and  did  the  third  a 
blessing  against  his  will :  if  thou  follow  him,  thou  must  needs 
wear  my  coxcomb.  —  How  now,  nuncle  !  ^^  Would  I  had 
two  coxcombs  and  two  daughters  ! 

Lear.    Why,  my  boy? 

Fool.  If  I  gave  them  all  my  living,  I'd  keep  my  coxcombs 
myself.     There's  mine  ;  beg  another  of  thy  daughters. 

Lear.    Take  heed,  sirrah  ;  the  whip. 

Fool.  Truth's  a  dog  must  to  kennel ;  he  must  be  whipp'd 
out,  when  Lady,  the  brach,'-  may  stand  by  the  fire  and  stink. 

L.car.    A  pestilent  gall  to  me  1 

Fool.    Sirrah,  I'll  teach  thee  a  speech. 

Lear.    Do. 

Fool.    Mark  it,  nuncle  : 

Have  more  tlian  thou  showest. 
Speak  less*  than  thou  knowest. 
Lend  less  than  thou  owest,'^ 
Ride  more  than  thou  goest, 

1"  To  "  smile  as  the  wind  sits"  is  to  fall  in  with  and  humour  the  disposi- 
tion of  those  in  power,  or  to  curry  favour  with  those  who  have  rewards  to 
bestow.  The  Fool  means  that  Kent  has  earned  the  name  of  fool  by  not 
doing  this,  and  should  wear  the  appropriate  badge. 

11  A  famili.ir  contraction  of  mine  uncle.  It  seems  that  the  common 
appellation  of  the  old  licensed  Fool  to  his  superiors  was  uncle.  In  Hcau- 
inont  and  Fletcher's  Pilgrim,  \>i\\<tvi  Alinda  assumes  the  character  of  a  Fool, 
she  uses  the  same  language.  She  meets  Alfonso,  and  calls  him  nuncle  ;  to 
which  he  replies  liy  calling  her  naunt. 

12  It  a|)pears  that  brach  was  a  general  term  for  a  keen-scented  hound. 
Lady  is  lie.re  the  name  of  a  female  hound. 

1'  That  is,  do  not  lend  all  that  thou  hast :  owe  for  own. 


36  KING    LEAR.  ACT  1- 

Learn  more  than  thou  trovvest/^ 
Set  less  than  thou  throwest ; 
Leave  thy  drink  and  thy  whore, 
And  keep  in-a-door, 
And  thou  shalt  have  more 
Than  two  tens  to  a  score. 
Kent.    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, 
n  uncle  ? 

Lear.    Why,  no,  boy  ;  nothing  can  be  made  out  of  nothing. 
Fool.   \To  Kent.]   Pr'ythee,  tell  him,  so  much  the  rent  of 
his  land  comes  to  :  he  will  not  believe  a  Fool. 
Lear.    A  bitter  Fool  ! 

Fool.    Dost  thou  know  the  difference,  my  boy,  between  a 
bitter  fool  and  a  sweet  fool  ? 
Lear.    No,  lad  ;  teach  me. 
Fool.  That  lord  that  counsell'd  thee 

To  give  away  thy  land, 
Come  place  him  here  by  me, 
Or  do  thou  for  him  stand  : 
The  sweet  and  bitter  fool 
Will  presently  appear  \ 
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  born  with. 

Ke7Lt.    This  is  not  altogether  fool,  my  lord. 

Fool.    No,  faith,  lords  and  great  men  will  not  let  me  ;  if 

"^^'Yo  troiu  is  to  know.  —  Set,  in  the  next  line,  means  stake:  stake  less 
than  the  value  of  what  you  throw  y&r. 

15  Breath  is  here  used  for  that  in  which  a  lawyer's  breath  is  sometimes 
spent,  —  words. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  37 

I  had  a  monopoly  out,  they  would  ha\e  part  on't :  and  ladies 
too,  they  will  not  let  me  have  all  fool  to  myself;  they'll  be 
snatching.  —  Give  me  an  egg,  nuncle,  and  I'll  give  thee  two 
crowns. 

Lear.    What  two  crowns  shall  they  be  ? 

Fool.  Why,  after  I  have  cut  the  egg  i'  the  middle,  and  eat 
up  the  meat,  the  two  crowns  of  the  egg.  When  thou  clovest 
thy  crown  i'  the  middle,  and  gavest  away  both  parts,  thou 
borest  thine  ass  on  thy  back  over  the  dirt :  ^^  thou  hadst  lit- 
tle wit  in  thy  bald  crown,  when  thou  gavest  thy  golden  one 
away.  If  I  speak  like  myself  in  this,  let  him  be  whipp'd  that 
first  finds  it  so.'" 

[Sings.]    Fools  had  ne'er  less  grace  in  a  year  ; 
For  wise  men  are  grozvn  foppish, 
And  know  not  how  their  wits  to  wear, 
Their  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 
daughters  thy  mothers  :  for  when  thou  gavest  them  the  rod, 
and  putst  down  thine  own  breeches, 

[Sings.]     Then  they  for  sudden  joy  did  7aeep, 
And  I  for  sorrow  sung, 
Thai  such  a  king  should  play  bo-peep. 
And  go  the  fools  among. 

Pr'ythee,  nuncle,  keep  a  schoolmaster  that  can  teach  thy  Fool 
to  lie  :   I  would  fain  learn  to  lie. 

'"  Alluding,  no  doubt,  to  the  fable  of  the  old  man  and  his  ass. 

1'' That  is,  "If  in  this  I  speak  like  a  fool  or  foolishly,  let  not  mc  be 
whipped  for  saying  it,  but  let  him  have  the  whipping  who  first  finds  it  to  be 
as  I  liave  said."  The  sage  Fool  is  darkly  forecasting  the  troubles  that  await 
the  old  King  as  the  consequences  of  what  lie  has  done.  Fools  were  Uable 
to  be  whipped  for  using  too  great  freedom  in  sarcastic  speech. 

"*  "  There  never  was  a  time  when  fools  were  less  in  favour ;  and  this  is 
because  they  were  never  so  little  wanted,  for  wise  men  supply  their  place." 


38 


KING    LEAR. 


Lear.    An  you  lie,  sirrah,  we'll  have  you  whipp'd. 

Fool.  I  marvel  what  kin  thou  and  thy  daughters  are  : 
they'll  have  me  whipp'd  for  speaking  true,  thou'lt  have  me 
v/hipp'd  for  lying ;  and  sometimes  I  am  whipp'd  for  holding 
my  peace.  I  had  rather  be  any  kind  o'  thing  than  a  Fool : 
and  yet  I  would  not  be  thee,  nuncle  ;  thou  hast  pared  th>' 
wit  o'  both  sides,  and  left  nothing  i'  the  middle.  Here  comes 
one  o'  the  parings. 

Enter  GoNERiL. 

Lear.  How  now,  daughter  !  what  makes  that  frontlet  i^  on  ? 
Methinks  you  are  too  much  of  late  i'  the  frown. 

Fool.  Thou  wast  a  pretty  fellow  when  thou  hadst  no  need 
to  care  for  her  frowning  ;  now  thou  art  an  O  without  a  figure  : 
I  am  better  than  thou  art  now  ;  I  am  a  Fool,  thou  art  nothing. 
—  \To  GoN.]  Yes,  forsooth,  I  will  hold  my  tongue  ;  so  your 
face  bids  me,  though  you  say  nothing.     Mum,  mum, 

He  that  keeps  nor  crust  nor  et  unib, 
Weary  of  all,  sliall  want  some. — 

That's  a  sheal'd  peascod.^o  \_Pointing  to  Lear. 

Gon.    Not  only,  sir,  this  your  all-licensed  Fool, 
liut  other  of  your  insolent  retinue 
Do  hourly  carp  and  quarrel ;  breaking  forth 
In  rank  and  not-to-be-endured  riots.     Sir, 
I  had  thought,  by  making  this  well  known  unto  you, 
T'  have  found  a  safe  redress  ;  but  now  grow  fearful, 
By  what  yourself  too  late  have  spoke  and  done, 

19  "  What  7neans  tliat  frotun  on  your  brow  ?  "  or,  "  What  business  has  it 
there  ?  "  The  verb  to  make  was  often  used  thus.  K  frontlet  is  said  to  have 
been  a  cloth  worn  on  the  forehead  by  ladies  to  prevent  wrinkles.  Of  course 
Goneril  enters  with  a  cloud  of  anger  in  her  face.  So  in  Zepheria,  1594 : 
"  And  vayle  thy  face  ^\\\\  frownes  as  with  7^  frontlet" 

-i>  Now  a  mere  husk  that  contains  nothing.  Cod,  or  peascod,  is  the  old 
name  of  what  we  c^Wpod,  ox  peapod. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  39 

That  you  protect  this  course,  and  put  it  on 
By  your  allowance  ;  -^  which  if  you  should,  the  fault 
Would  not  'scape  censure,  nor  the  redresses  sleep, 
Which,  in  the  tender  of  a  wholesome  weal,~- 
Might  in  their  working  do  you  that  offence. 
Which  else  were  shame,  that  then  necessity 
Will  call  discreet  proceeding. 
Fool.    For,  you  trow,  nuncle, 

The  hedge-sparrow  fed  the  cuckoo  so  long, 
That  it  had  its  head  bit  off  by  its  yoimg?"^ 

So,  out  went  the  candle,  and  we  were  left  darkling.-'* 

Lear.   Are  you  our  daughter? 

Gon.   Come,  sir, 
I  would  you  would  make  use  of  that  good  wisdom 
Whereof  I  know  you're  fraught ;  and  put  away 
These  dispositions,  that  of  late  transform  you 
From  what  you  rightly  are. 

Fool.  May  not  an  ass  know  when  the  cart  draws  the 
horse?      Whoop,  Jug!  I  love  thee r^ 

21  To  "put  it  on  by  your  allowance  "  is  to  encourage  it  by  your  approval. 
Put  on  for  incite  or  set  on  was  very  common.  Also  allow  and  its  deriva- 
tives in  the  sense  of  approve.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  226,  note  6. 

"  "The  tender  of  a  wholesome  weal"  is  the  taking  care  that  the  com- 
monwealth be  kept  in  a  sound  and  healthy  state.  To  tender  a  thing  is  to  be 
careful  of  it.  See  vol.  xiv.  page  262,  note  6.  Wholesome  is  here  used  pro- 
leptically.     See  vol.  xiii.  page  188,  note  I. 

23  Alluding  to  a  trick  which  the  cuckoo  has  of  laying  her  eggs  in  the 
sparrow's  nest,  to  be  hatched,  and  the  cuckoo's  chicks  fed  by  the  sparrow, 
till  they  get  so  big  and  so  voracious  as  to  scare  away  or  kill  their  feeder. 
See  vol.  xi.  page  116,  note  6. 

2-t  To  be  left  darkling  is  to  be  left  in  the  dark. 

25  This  is  said  to  l)o  a  part  of  the  burden  of  an  old  song.  Ilalliwell  notes 
upon  it  as  follows :  "  Jug  was  the  old  nickname  for  Joan,  and  it  was  also 
a  term  of  endearment.  Edward  AUeyn,  the  player,  writing  to  liis  wife  in 
1593,  says,  ■  And.  Jug,  I  pray  you,  lett  my  orayng-tawny  stokins  of  wolen  be 
dyed  a  new  good  blak  against  I  com  liom,  to  wear  in  winter.'"     lie  also 


40  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Lear.  Doth  any  here  know  me  ?  Why,  this  is  not  Lear  ; 
doth  Lear  walk  thus?  speak  thus?  Where  are  his  eyes? 
Either  his  notion  weakens,  or  his  discernings  are  lethar- 
gied.^*^  Ha!  waking?  'tis  not  so.  Who  is  it  that  can  tell 
me  who  I  am?  — 

Fool.    Lear's  shadow,  — 

Lear.  —  I  would  learn  that ;  for,  by  the  marks  of  sover- 
eignty, —  knowledge  and  reason,  —  I  should  be  false  per- 
suaded I  had  daughters.-'^ 

Fool.    —  which  they  will  make  an  obedient  father.^^ 

Lear.    Your  name,  fair  gentlewoman  ? 

Gon.    This  admiration,-^  sir,  is  much  o'  the  savour 
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  debauch'd,  and  bold. 
That  this  our  Court,  infected  with  their  manners, 
Shows  like  a  riotous  inn  :   epicurism  and  lust 

quotes  from  Cotgrave's  Wit's  Interpreter,  1617  :  "  If  I  be  I,  and  thou  be'st 
one,  tell  me,  sweet  Jugge,  how  spell'st  thou  Jone."  And  Heywood's  Rape 
of  Lucrece,  1638,  as  quoted  by  Furness,  has  a  song  which  begins,  "  Arise, 
arise,  my  Juggle,  my  Puggie,"  and  Juggie  replies,  "  Begon,  begon,  my  Willie, 
rfy  Billie." 

26  Notion  and  discer^iings  are  evidently  meant  here  as  equivalent  terms. 
Notion  for  mind,  judgment,  or  understanding,  occurs  repeatedly.  So  that 
the  meaning  is,  "  Either  his  mind  is  breaking  down,  or  else  it  has  fallen  into 
a  lethargy." 

27  Here  "  marks  of  sovereignty^'  as  I  take  it,  are  sovereign  marks,  and 
knowledf  and  reason  in  apposition  with  marks.  So  that  the  meaning  is, 
"  For  knowledge  and  reason,  which  are  our  supreme  guides  or  attributes, 
would  persuade  me  I  had  daughters,  though  such  is  clearly  not  the  case." 

28  It  must  be  understood,  that  in  the  speech  beginning  "  I  would  learn 
that,"  Lear  is  continuing  his  former  speech,  and  answering  his  own  ques- 
tion, without  heeding  the  Fool's  interruption.  So,  again,  in  this  speech  the 
Fool  continues  his  former  one,  which  referring  to  shadow. 

'^■>  Admiration  in  its  Latin  sense  of  wonder. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  4 1 

Make  it  more  like  a  tavern  or  a  brothel 

Than  a  graced  palace.     The  shame  itself  doth  speak 

For  instant  remedy  :  be,  then,  desired 

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. 

Lea?-.  Darkness  and  devils  !  — 

Saddle  my  horses  ;  call  my  train  together.  — 
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. 

Enter  Albany. 

Lear.    Woe,  that  too  late  repents, —  \_7^o  Alb.]  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. 

Lear.    \_To  Gon.]    Detested  kite  !  thou  liest : 
My  train  are  men  of  choice  and  rarest  3'  parts, 
That  all  particulars  of  duty  know. 
And  in  the  most  exact  regard  support 
The  worship  ^"-  of  their  name.  —  O  most  small  fault, 
How  ugly  didst  thou  in  Cordelia  show  ! 

3"  Referring,  probably,  to  the  clre.idful  be.ist  tliat  made  sucli  liavoc  with 
the  virgin  daughters  of  old  Troy.    See  vol.  iii.  page  171,  note  10. 

3'  Hero  the  superlative  sense  in  rarest  extends  back  q\>:x  choice.  'I  he 
usage  was  common.     Sec  vol.  iii.  page  i8o,  note  42. 

'2  Worship  was  continually  used  just  as  honour  is  now,  only  meaning 
less.     So  "your  Worship  "  was  a  loucr  title  than  "  your  Honour." 


42  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Which,  hke  an  engine,^^  vvrcnch'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,  \_Sfi iking  his  head 

And  thy  dear  judgment  out  !  —  Go,  go,  my  people. 

Alb.    My  lord,  I'm  guiltless,  as  I'm  ignorant 
Of  what  hath  moved  you. 

Lear.    It  may  be  so,  my  lord.  —  Hear,  Nature,  hear  ! 
Dear  goddess,  hear  I  suspend  thy  purpose,  if 
Thou  didst  intend  to  make  this  creature  fruitful ; 
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, 
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 ; 
With  cadent  tears  fret  channels  in  her  cheeks ; 
Turn  all  her  mother'^  pains  and  benefits 
To  laughter  and  contempt  ;  that  she  may  feel 
How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is 
To  have  a  thankless  child  !  —  Away,  away  !  \_Exif. 

Alb.    Now,  gods  that  we  adore,  whereof  comes  this  ? 

Gon.    Never  afflict  yourself  to  know  the  cause  ; 
But  let  his  disposition  have  that  scope 
That  dotage  gives  it. 

Re-enter  Lear. 

Lear.    What,  fifty  of  my  followers  at  a  clap  ! 
Within  a  fortnight  ! 

Alb.  What's  the  matter,  sir? 

Lear.    I'll  tell  thee.  —  {_To  Gon.]    Life  and  death  !     I  am 
ashamed 

^■'  Engine  for  rack,  the  old  instrument  of  torture. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  43 

That  thou  hast  power  to  sliake  my  manhood  thus  ; 

That  these  hot  tears,  which  break  from  me  perforce, 

Shoukl  make  thee  worth  them.     Blasts  and  fogs  upon  thee  ! 

Th'  untented  wounduigs  •''*  of  a  father's  curse 

Pierce  every  sense  about  thee  !  —  Okl  fond  eyes, 

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, 

Who,  I  am  sure,  is  kmd  and  comfortable  -.^^^ 

When  she  shall  hear  this  of  thee,  with  her  nails 

She'll  flay  thy  wolvish  visage.     Thou  shalt  find 

'i'hat  I'll  resume  the  shape  which  thou  dost  think 

I  have  cast  off  for  ever ;  thou  shalt,  I  warrant  thee. 

[itaYv////  Lear,  Kent,  a/u/  Attendants. 
Go//.    Do  you  mark  that,  my  lord?-^*^ 
y4//>.    I  cannot  be  so  partial,  Goneril, 
To  the  great  love  I  bear  you,  — 

Gon.    Pray  you,  content.  —  What,  Oswald,  ho  !  — 
[T(?  Ihe  Fool.]  You,  sir,  more  knave  than  fool,  after  your  master. 
Fool.    Nuncle  Lear,  nuncle  Lear,  tarry,  and  take  tlic  P'ool 
with  thee.  — 

A  fox,  when  one  has  caught  her, 

.And  sucli  a  daughter, 

Sh(juld  sure  to  the  slaughter. 

If  my  cap  would  buy  a  halter  : 

So  the  Fool  follows  after.  [/T.v//. 

8*  The  untented  woundings  are  the  rankling  or  never-healing  wounds  in- 
flicted by  parental  malediction.  To  tent  is  to  probe  :  untented,  therefore,  is 
too  deep  to  be  probed:  incurable.     See  page  25,  note  9. 

^•'>  Comfortable  in  tlie  sense  of  comforting  or  giving  comfort.  See  vol.  iv. 
page  15,  note  15. 

3'J  .Mbany,  though  his  heart  is  on  the  King's  sidr,  i>  icluci.mt  to  make  a 
square  issue  with  his  wife;  and  she  thinks  to  work  upon  hiin  by  calling  liis 
attention  pointedly  to  Lear's  tlireat  of  resuming  the  kingdom. 


44  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I 

Gon.    This  man   hath   had  good   counsel  !     A   hundred 
knights  ! 
'Tis  poHtic  and  safe  to  let  him  keep 

At  point  37  a  hundred  knights  !  yes,  that,  on  every  dream, 
Each  buzz,  each  fancy,  each  complaint,  dislike, 
He  may  enguard  his  dotage  with  their  powers. 
And  hold  our  lives  in  mercy.  —  Oswald,  I  say  !  — 

Alb.   Well,  you  may  fear  too  far.^^ 

Gon.  Safer  than  trust  too  far  : 

Let  me  still  take  away  the  harms  1  fear, 
Not  fear  still  to  be  harm'd.     I  know  his  heart. 
What  he  hath  utter'd  I  have  writ  my  sister : 
If  she  sustain  him  and  his  hundred  knights, 
When  I  have  show'd  th'  unfitness,  — 

Re-enter  Oswald. 

How  now,  Oswald  ! 
What,  have  you  writ  that  letter  to  my  sister? 

Osiv.    Ay,  madam. 

Go7i.   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  compact  it  more.^^     So  get  you  gone, 
And  hasten  your  return.  {^Exit  Oswald.]  —  No,  no,  my  lord  ; 
This  milky  gentleness  and  course  '^^  of  yours. 
Though  I  condemn  it  not,  yet,  under  pardon, 

S'?  At  point  is  completely  armed,  and  so  ready  on  the  slightest  notice. 

38  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. —  Coleridge. 

39  That  is,  make  it  more  consistent  and  credible :  strefigthen  it. 

4"  "  Milky  ^viA  gentle  course  "  is  the  meaning.    See  page  24,  note  7. 


SCENE  V.  KING    LEAR.  45 

V'ou  are  much  more  attask'd"*'  for  want  of  wisdom 
Than  praised  for  harmful  mildness. '*"- 

Alb.    How  far  your  eyes  may  pierce  I  cannot  tell : 
Striving  to  better,  oft  we  mar  what's  well. 

Gon.    Nay,  then  — 

Alb.    Well,  well ;  the  event.-^^  \Exeunt. 

Scene  V.  —  Court  before  tlie  Same. 
Enfer  Lear,  Kent,  afid  the  Fool. 

Lear.  Go  you  before  to  Gloster  with  these  letters.  Ac- 
(luaint  my  daughter  no  further  with  any  thing  you  know  than 
comes  from  her  demand  out  of  the  letter.'  If  your  diligence 
be  not  speedy,  I  shall  be  there-  afore  you. 

Kent.  I  will  not  sleep,  my  lord,  till  I  have  delivered  your 
letter.  \^Exit. 

Fool.  If  a  man's  brains  were  in's  heels,  were'tnot  in  danger 
of  kibes  ?"^ 

■♦1  The  word  task  is  frequently  used  by  Shakespeare  and  his  contempo- 
raries in  the  sense  of  tax.  So  in  tlic  common  phrase  of  our  time,  "  Taken 
to  task  "  ;  tliat  is,  called  to  account,  or  reproved. 

^2  That  is,  praised  for  a  mildness  that  is  harmful  in  its  effects. 

■*•*  As  before  implied,  Albany  shrinks  from  a  word-storm  with  his  help- 
mate, and  so  tells  her,  in  effect,  "  Well,  let  us  not  quarrel  about  it,  but  wait 
and  see  how  your  course  works."  In  their  marriage,  Goneril  had  some- 
what the  advantage  of  her  husband ;  because,  to  be  sure,  she  was  a  king's 
daughter,  and  he  was  not. 

1  This  instruction  to  Kent  is  very  well-judged.  The  old  King  feels  mor- 
tified at  what  has  happened,  and  does  not  want  Kent  to  volunteer  any  in- 
formation about  it  to  his  other  daughter. 

2  The  word  there  shows  that  when  the  King  says,  "  Go  you  before  to 
Gloster"  he  means  the  town  of  Gloster,  which  Shakespeare  chose  to  make 
the  residence  of  the  Duke  of  f^ornwall,  to  increase  the  [)robal)ility  of  his 
setting  out  late  from  thence  on  a  visit  to  the  Ivirl  of  Gloster.  The  old  Eng- 
lish earls  usually  resided  in  the  counties  from  whence  they  took  their  titles. 
Eoar,  not  finding  his  son-in-law  and  daughter  at  home,  follows  them  to  th'.' 
liar!  of  Gloster's  castle. 

8  Kibe  is  an  old  name  for  a  heel-sore.     See  vol.  vii.  page  51.  note  51. 


46  KING    LEAR.  ACT  L 

Lear.    Ay,  boy. 

Fool.  Then,  I  pr'ythee,  be  merry;  thy  wit  shall  not  go 
slip-shod. "^ 

Lea7-.    Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

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. 

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'  the  middle  on's 
face? 

Lear.    No. 

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? 

Lear.    No. 

Fool.  Nor  I  neither ;  but  I  can  tell  why  a  snail  has  a 
house. 

Lear.    Why  ? 

Fool.  Why,  to  put  his  head  in  ;  not  to  give  it  away  to  his 
daughters,  and  leave  his  horns  without  a  case. 

4  I  do  not  well  see  the  force  or  application  of  this.  The  best  comment  I 
have  met  with  on  the  passage  is  Moberly's :  "  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.'  " 

5  'Y\\f:  Fool  quibbles,  using  kindly  in  two  senses ;  as  it  means  affection- 
ately, and  like  the  rest  of  her  kitid,  or  according  to  her  nature.  The  Poet 
often  uses  kind  in  this  sen.se.     See  vol.  iv.  page  220,  note  2. 

c  Crab  refers  to  the  fruit  so-called,  not  to  the  fish.  So  in  Lyly's  Euphues  . 
"  The  sower  Crabbe  hath  the  shew  of  an  Apple  as  well  as  the  sweet  Pippm." 

■7  Shakespeare  often  has  0/  where  we  should  use  on,  and  vice  versa  ;  as 
on's  in  the  P'ool's  preceding  speech.     See  vol.  xiii.  page  124,  note  5. 

8  Lear  is  now  stung  with  remorse  for  his  treatment  of  Cordelia. 


SCENE  V.  KING    LEAR.  47 

Lear.  I  will  forget  my  nature.''  So  kind  a  father  !  —  Be 
my  horses  ready  ? 

Fool.  Thy  asses  are  gone  about  'em.  The  reason  why  the 
seven  stars'*^  are  no  more  than  seven  is  a  pretty  reason. 

Lear.    Because  they  are  not  eight? 

Fool.    Yes,  indeed  :  thou  wouldst  make  a  good  Fool. 

Lear.    To  take't  again  perforce  I^^     Monster  Ingratitude  ! 

Fool.  If  thou  wert  my  Fool,  nunclc,  I'd  have  thee  beaten 
for  being  old  before  thy  time. 

Lear.    How's  that? 

Fool.  Thou  shouldst  not  have  been  old  till  thou  hadst  been 
wise. 

Lear.    O,  let  me  not  be  mad,i2  not  mad,  sweet  Heaven  ! 
Keep  me  in  temper  :  I  would  not  be  mad  !  — 

Enter  a  Gentleman. 

How  now  !  are  the  horses  ready  ? 

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. 

\^Exennt. 

9  Forget  in  the  sense  of  put  off,  disown,  or  forsake.  Lear  means  that  he 
will  renounce  the  kindness  which  is  naturally  his. 

1"  This  is  commonly  thought  to  mean  the  constellation  Pleiades.  But  I 
am  apt  to  think  that  Mr.  Furness  is  right :  "  May  it  not  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,  in- 
ded,  that  the  I^tin  word  for  North  was  derived  from  them.  \Ve  call  this 
constellation  '  The  Dipper,'  from  its  fancied  resemblance  to  the  utensil  of 
that  name ;  a  name,  I  believe,  scarcely  known  in  England. 

'1  He  is  meditating  on  what  lie  has  before  threatened,  namely,  to  "  resume 
the  shape  which  he  has  cast  off." 

>- The  mind's  own  anticipation  of  madness!  The  deepest  tragic  notes 
are  often  struck  by  a  half-sense  of  the  impending  blow.  —  COLERILXJK. 


48  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

ACT   11. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Court  witliin  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Edmund  and  Curan,  meeting. 

Edm.    Save  thee,  Curan. 

Cur.  And  you,  sir.  I  have  been  with  your  father,  and 
given  him  notice  that  the  Duke  of  Cornwall  and  Regan  his 
duchess  will  be  here  with  him  this  night. 

Edm.    How  comes  that  ? 

Cicr.  Nay,  I  know  not.  You  have  heard  of  the  news 
abroad  ?  I  mean  the  whisper'd  ones,  for  they  are  yet  but  ear- 
kissing  arguments.! 

Edm.    Not  I  :  pray  you,  what  are  they? 

Cur.  Have  you  heard  of  no  likely  wars  toward  2  'twixt  the 
Dukes  of  Cornwall  and  Albany  ? 

Edm.    Not  a  word. 

Cur.   You  may  do,  then,  in  time.     Fare  you  well,  sir. 

\_Exit. 

Edm.   The  duke  be  here  to-night?     The  better  !  best ! 
This  weaves  itself  perforce  into  my  business. 
My  father  hath  set  guard  to  take  my  brother ; 
And  I  have  one  thing,  of  a  queasy  question,^ 
Which  I  must  act :  briefness  and  fortune,  work  !  — 
Brother,  a  word  ;  descend  :   brother,  I  say  ! 

Enter  Edgar. 

My  fatiier  watches  :  O  sir,  fly  this  place  ! 

1  "  Ear-kissing  arguments  "  are  words  spoken  with  the  speaker's  lips  close 
to  the  hearer's  ear,  as  if  kissing  him  ;  whispers. 

2  Toward  \s  forthcoming  or  at  hand.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  316,  note  63. 

«  "A  queasy  question  "  is  a  matter  delicate,  ticklish,  or  difficult  to  man- 
age; as  a  queasy  stomach  is  impatient  of  motion. 


KING    LEAK. 


49 


Intelligence  is  given  where  you  are  hid  ; 
You've  now  the  good  ad\'antagc  of  llie  night. 
Have  you  not  spoken  'gainst  the  Duke  of  Cornwall? 
He's  coming  hither ;  now,  i'  the  niglit,  i'  the  haste, 
And  Regan  with  him  :   have  you  nothing  said 
Upon  his  party  'gainst  the  Duke  of  Albany? 
Advise  yourself.'' 

Edg.  I'm  sure  on't,  not  a  word. 

Edm.    I  hear  my  father  coming  :   panlon  me  ; 
In  cunning  I  must  draw  my  sword  upon  you. 
Draw  ;  seem  to  defend  yourself :  now  quit  you  '^  well. 
Yield  !  come  before  my  father  !  —  Light,  ho,  here  !  — 
Fly,  brother  !  —  Torches,  torches  !  —  So,  farewell.  — 

S^Exit  Edgar, 
Some  blood  drawn  on  me  would  beget  opinion 
Of  my  more  fierce  endeavour  :  [  Wounds  his  arm. 

I've  seen  drunkards 
Do  more  than  this  in  sport/'  —  Father,  father  !  — 
Stop,  stop  !  —  No  help  ? 

Enter  Gi.osTER,  and  Servants  with  Torches. 


■•  That  is,  ^tf/Zziw.^  yourself ;  question  your  memory;  recollect.  See  vol. 
xii.  page  69,  note  17.  —  The  preceding  line  is  commonly  explained,  "  Have 
you  said  nothing  in  censure  of  the  party  he  has  formed  against  the  Duke  of 
Albany?"  This  supposes  Edmund  to  be  merely  repeating  the  question  lie 
has  asked  before.  But  the  proper  sense  of  "  upon  his  party  "  is  "  upon  his 
side,"  or  in  his  favour.  So  that  Delius  probably  gives  the  riglit  explanation. 
I  quote  from  Furncss's  Variorum  :  "  In  order  to  confuse  his  brother,  and 
urge  him  to  a  more  speedy  flight,  by  giving  him  the  idea  that  he  is  sur- 
rounded 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." 

6  Qui/ you  is  acquit  yourself .     Tlie  Poet  has  quit  repeatedly  so. 

8  These  drunken  feats  are  mentioned  in  Marston's  Dutch  Courtesan  : 
"  Have  I  not  been  drunk  for  your  health,  cut  glasses,  drunk  wine,  stabbed 
arms,  and  done  all  offices  of  prolesled  g.ili.intiy  for  your  sake?  " 


50  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II 

Glos.    Now,  Edmund,  where's  the  villain? 

Edm.    Here  stood  he  in  the  dark,  his  sharp  sword  out, 
Mumbling  of  wicked  charms,  c6njuring  the  Moon 
To  stand  auspicious  mistress.''' 

Glos.  But  where  is  he? 

Edm.    Look,  sir,  I  bleed. 

Glos.  Where  is  the  villain,  Edmund? 

Edm.    Fled  this  way,  sir.     When  by  no  means  he  could  — 

Glos.    Pursue  him,  ho  !  Go  after.  —  \_Exeiml some  Servants. 

By  no  means  what? 

Edm.    Persuade  me  to  the  murder  of  your  lordship  ; 
But  that  I  told  him  the  revenging  gods 
'Gainst  parricides  did  all  their  thunders  bend  ; 
Spoke  with  how  manifold  and  strong  a  bond 
The  child  was  bound  to  th'  father :  sir,  in  fine, 
Seeing  how  loathly  opposite  I  stood 
To  his  unnatural  purpose,  in  fell  motion 
With  his  prepared  sword  he  charges  home 
My  unprovided  body,  lanced  mine  arm  : 
But,  wher  he  saw  my  best  alarum'd  spirits 
Bold  in  the  quarrel's  right,  roused  to  th'  encounter, 
Or  whether  gasted  ^  by  the  noise  I  made. 
Full  suddenly  he  fled. 

Glos.  Let  him  fly  far  : 

Not  in  this  land  shall  he  remain  uncaught ; 
And,  found,  dispatch.     The  noble  duke  my  master, 
My  worthy  arch  '•*  and  patron,  comes  to-night : 
By  his  authority  I  will  proclaim  it. 


■^  Gloster  has  already  shown  himself  a  believer  in  such  astrological  super- 
stitions; so  that  Edmund  here  takes  hold  of  him  by  just  the  right  handle. 

8  That  is,  aghastcd,  frighted.  So  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Wit  at 
Several  Weapons  :  "  Either  the  sight  of  the  lady  has  gasted  him,  or  else 
he's  drunk." 

9  ArcA  is  chief;  still  used  in  composition,  as  arch-angel,  arch-duke,  &c. 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAR.  5 1 

That  he  which  finds  him  shall  deserve  our  thanks, 
Bringing  the  murderous  coward  to  the  stake  ; 
He  that  conceals  him,  death. 

Eiim.    When  I  dissuaded  him  from  his  intent, 
And  found  him  pight  to  do  it,  with  curst  '"  speech 
I  ihreaten'd  to  discover  him.      He  replied, 
Thou  unpossessing  bastard  !  dost  tliou  think, 
If  1 7uould  stand  against  thee,  would  the  reposure 
Of  any  trust,  virtue,  or  ivorth,  in  thee 
Make  thy  words  fiith'd ?     No  :  ivhat  I  should  deny,  — 
As  this  1 7uould ;  ay,  though  thou  didst  produce 
My  very  character, ^^  —  I'd  turn  it  all 
To  thy  suggestion,  plot,  and  damned  practice  : 
And  thou  f?iust  make  a  dullard  of  the  world, 
If  they  not  thought  the  profits  of  my  death 
Were  very  pregtiant  and  potential  spurs 
To  make  thee  seek  it. 

Glos.  Strong  and  fastcn'd  '-  villain  ! 

Would  he  deny  his  letter?     I  never  got  him. 

[  Tucket  li'ithin. 
Hark,  the  duke's  trumpets  !      I  know  not  why  he  comes. 
All  ports  I'll  bar ;  the  villain  shall  not  'scape  ; 
The  duke  must  grant  me  that  :   besides,  his  picture 
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.'^ 

1"  Pight 'm pitched,  fixed:  curst  {•i&n  epitliet  applied  to  any  bad  quality 
in  excess ;  as  a  malignant,  quarrelsome,  or  scolding  temper.  So  in  Tiic 
Taming  of  the  Shrew,  Catharine  is  called  "  a  curst  shrew." 

'I  Character  here  means  hand-writing  or  signature. 

12  Strong  and  fi^len'd\%  resolute  and  confirmed.  Strong  was  often  used 
in  a  bad  sense,  as  strong  thief,  strong  traitor. 

1'  That  is,  capable  of  succeeding  to  his  estate.  By  law,  I'.dinund  was  in- 
capable of  the  inheritance.    The  word  natural  is  here  used  with  great  art  in 


52  KING    LEAR.  •  ACT  II. 

Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  and  Attendants. 

Coi'u.  How  now,  my  noble  friend  !  since  1  came  liither,  — 
Which  I  can  call  but  now,  —  I've  heard  strange  news. 

Reg.    If  it  be  true,  all  vengeance  comes  too  short 
Which  can  pursue  th'  offender.     How  dost,  my  lord? 

Glos.    O  madam,  my  old  heart  is  crack'd,  it's  crack'd  ! 

Reg.    What,  did  my  father's  godson  seek  your  life  ? 
He  whom  my  father  named?  your  Edgar?  '"^ 

Glos.    O  lady,  lady,  shame  would  have  it  hid  ! 

Reg.    Was  he  not  companion  with  the  riotous  knights 
That  tend  upon  my  father? 

Glos.    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  affected  : 
'Tis  they  have  put  him  on  tlie  old  man's  death, 
To  have  the  waste  and  spoil  of  his  revenues. 
I  have  this  present  evening  from  my  sister 
Been  well  inform'd  of  them  ;  and  with  such  cautions, 
That,  if  they  come  to  sojourn  at  my  house, 
I'll  not  be  there. 

Corn.  Nor  I,  assure  thee,  Regan. — 

Edmund,  I  hear  that  you  have  shown  your  father 
A  child-like  office. 

Ed  1)1.  'Twas  my  duty,  sir. 

Glos.    He  did  bewray  ^^  his  practice  ;  and  received 
This  hurt  you  see,  striving  to  apprehend  liim. 

the  double  sense  of  illegitimate  and  as  opposed  to  unnatural,  which  latter 
epithe'  is  implied  upon  Edgar. 

i"!  There  is  a  peculiar  subtlety  and  intensity  of  malice  in  these  speeches 
of  Regan.  Coleridge  justly  observes  that  she  makes  "  no  reference  to  the 
guilt,  but  only  to  the  accident,  which  she  uses  as  an  occasion  for  sneering 
at  her  father."  And  he  adds,  "  Regan  is  not,  in  fact,  a  greater  monster 
than  Goneril,  but  she  has  the  power  of  casting  more  venom." 

15  Bewray  is  nearly  the  same  in  sense  as  betray,  and  means  disclose  or 
reveal.     So  in  St.  Matthew,  xxvi.  73  :  "  Thy  speech  bewrayeth  thee." 


SCKNE  I.  KING    LEAR.  53 

Corn.    Is  he  pursued? 

Glos.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Corti.    If  he  be  taken,  he  shall  never  more 
Be  fear'd  of  doing  harm  :  make  your  own  purpose, 
How  in  ray  strength  you  please.  —  For  you,  Edmund, 
Whose  virtue  and  obedience  doth  this  instant 
So  much  commend  itself,  you  shall  be  ours  : 
Natures  of  such  deep  trust  we  shall  much  need  ; 
You  we  first  seize  on. 

Edm.  I  shall  serve  you,  sir. 

Truly,  however  else. 

Glos.  For  him  I  thank  your  Grace. 

Corn.    You  know  not  why  we  came  to  visit  you, — 

Reg.    Thus  out  of  season,  threading  ^^'  dark-eyed  night : 
Occasions,  noble  Gloster,  of  some  poise,!'' 
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 
To  answer  from  our  home  :  '^  the  several  messengers 
From  hence  attend  dispatch.     Our  good  old  friend, 
Lay  comforts  to  your  bosom  ;  and  bestow 
Your  needful  counsel  to  our  business. 
Which  craves  the  instant  use. 

Glos.  I  serve  you,  madam  : 

Your  (}races  are  right  welcome.  \^Rxeunt. 

•8  Threading  is  passing  through.  The  word  dark-eyed  shows  that  an  allu- 
sion to  the  threading  of  a  needle  was  intended. 

''  Poise  is  weight,  importance.—  Regan's  snatching  the  speech  out  of  her 
husband's  mouth  is  rightly  in  character.  Tiicsc  two  strong-minded  ladies 
think  nobody  else  can  do  any  thing  so  well  as  they. 

18  That  is,  away  from  our  home ;  from  some  other  place  than  home. 


54  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Scene  II.  — Before  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Kent  and  Oswald,  severally. 

Osw.    Good  dawning  1  to  thee,  friend  :  art  of  this  house? 

Kent.    Ay. 

Os7v.    Where  may  we  set  our  horses  ? 

Kent.    V  the  mire. 

Os7v.    Pr'ythee,  if  thou  lovest  me,  tell  me. 

Kent.    I  love  thee  not. 

Osiii.    Why,  then  I  care  not  for  thee. 

Kent.  If  I  had  thee  in  Finsbury  pinfold,-  I  would  make 
thee  care  for  me. 

Os7v.    Why  dost  thou  use  me  thus  ?     I  know  thee  not. 

Kent.    Fellow,  I  know  thee. 

Os7ci.    What  dost  thou  know  me  for? 

Kent.  A  knave  ;  a  rascal ;  an  eater  of  broken  meats ;  a 
base,  proud,  shallow,  beggarly,  three-suited,  hundred-pound, 
filthy,  worsted-stocking  knave  ;  a  lily-liver'd,  action-taking, 
whoreson,  glass-gazing,  superserviceable,  finical  rogue  ;  one- 
trunk-inheriting  slave  ;  one  that  wouldst  be  a  bawd  in  way  of 
good  service,  and  art  nothing  but  the  composition  of  a  knave, 
beggar,  coward,  pander,  and  the  son  and  heir  of  a  mongrel 
bitch ;  one  whom  I  will  beat  into  clamorous  whining,  if  thou 
deniest  the  least  syllable  of  thy  addition. ^ 

1  Dawning  OCCU.XS  again  in  Cymbeline,  as  substantive,  for  morning.  It  is 
still  so  dark,  however,  that  Oswald  does  not  recognize  Kent.  Kent  prob- 
ably knows  him  by  the  voice. 

2  Pinfold  is  an  old  word  for  pound,  a  public  enclosure  where  stray  pigs 
and  cattle  are  shut  up,  to  be  bought  out  by  the  owner. 

3  Addition,  again,  for  title,  but  here  jMit  for  the  foregoing  string  cf  titles. 
A  few  of  these  may  need  to  be  explained.  "  Three-suited  knave  "  probably 
means  one  who  spends  all  he  has,  or  his  whole  income,  in  dress.  Kent 
afterwards  says  to  Oswald,  "  a  tailor  made  thee."     So  in  Jonson's   Silent 

Woman:  "Wert  a  pitiful  fellow,  and  hadst  nothing  but  three  suits  of  ap- 
parel."   "  Worsted-stocking  knave  "  is  another  reproach  of  the  same  kind. 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR.  55 

Os7u.  Why,  what  a  monstrous  fellow  art  thou,  thus  to  rail 
on  one  that  is  neither  known  of  thee  nor  knows  thee  ! 

Kent.  What  a  brazen-iaced  varlet  art  thou,  to  deny  thou 
knowest  me  !  Is  it  two  days  since  I  tripp'd  up  thy  heels  anil 
beat  thee  before  the  King?  Draw,  you  rogue  !  for,  though  it 
be  night,  yet  the  Moon  shines ;  I'll  make  a  sop  o'  the  moon- 
shine of  you."*  \_Draimng  his  swordT^  Draw,  you  whoreson 
cullionly  barber-monger,^  draw  ! 

Osw.    Away  I   I  have  nothing  to  do  with  thee. 

Ketit.  Draw,  you  rascal  !  you  come  with  letters  against 
the  King,  and  take  Vanity  the  puppet's  part"  against  the 
royalty  of  her  father.  Draw,  you  rogue,  or  I'll  so  carbonado''' 
your  shanks  :  draw,  you  rascal  !  come  your  ways. 

Ostv.    Help,  ho  !  murder  !  help  ! 

Kent.  Strike,  you  slave  !  stand,  rogue,  stand ;  you  neat 
slave,^  strike  !  {^Beating  him. 

Osw.    Help,  ho  !  murder  !  murder  ! 

"Action-taking"  is  one  who,  if  you  beat  him,  would  bring  an  action  for 
assault,  instead  of  resenting  it  like  a  man  of  pluck.  "  One-trunk-inhcriting," 
—  inherit  in  its  old  sense  of  to  own  or  possess.  Siipcrscrviccnblc  is  about 
the  sums  diS  servile  ;  one  that  ^JZ'tfrafoi^j  his  service ;  sycophantic.  Lily-liver  d 
was  a  common  epithet  for  a  coward.  See  vol.  iii.  page  172,  note  15.  "  A 
bawd,"  &'c.,  may  be  one  who  does  good  service  in  the  capacity  of  a  bawd. 

■•  An  equivoque  is  here  intended,  by  an  allusion  to  the  old  dish  oi  eggs  in 
moonshine,  which  was  eggs  broken  and  boiled  in  salad  oil  till  the  yolks 
became  hard.  It  is  equivalent  to  the  phrase  of  modern  times,  "  I'll  baste 
you,"  or  "  beat  you  to  a  mummy." 

6  Called  barber-monger  because  he  spends  so  much  time  in  nursing  his 
whiskers,  in  getting  himself  up,  and  in  being  barbered. 

«  Alluding,  probably,  to  the  old  moral  plays,  in  which  the  virtues  and 
vices  were  personified.  Vanity  was  represented  as  a  female;  and  puppet 
was  often  a  term  of  contempt  for  a  woman.  Jonson,  in  The  Devil  is  an  Ass, 
speaks  of  certain  vices  as  "  Lady  V;mity  "  and  "  Old  Iniquity." 

7  To  carbonado  is  to  slash  with  stripes,  as  a  piece  of  meat  to  be  cooked. 

8  Stecvens  thought  that  neat  slave  might  mean,  "  yo\s.  finical  rascal,  you 
assemblage  of  foppery  and  poverty:'  Walker,  a  better  authority,  r.X|ilains 
if,  "  Neat  in  the  sense  oi pure,  unmixed  ;  still  ti";ed  in  the  phrase  neat  wtne." 
This  makes  it  equivalent  to  "  you  unmitigated  villain," 


56  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Enter  Edmund,  sword  in  hand, 

Edm.    How  now  !     What's  the  matter?        \_Parting  them. 
Kent.    With  you,  goodman  boy,^  if  you  please  :  come,  I'll 
flesh  ye  \  ^^  come  on,  young  master. 

Enter  Gloster. 

Glos.    Weapons  ?  arms  ?     What's  the  matter  here  ? 

Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  and  Servants. 

Corn.    Keep  peace,  upon  your  lives  ; 
He  dies  that  strikes  again.     What  is  the  matter? 

Reg.    The  messengers  from  our  sister  and  the  King. 

Corn.    What  is  your  difference  ?  speak. 

Osw.    I  am  scarce  in  breath,  my  lord. 

Kent.  No  marvel,  you  have  so  bestirr'd  your  valour.  You 
cowardly  rascal.  Nature  disclaims  in  thee  :  '^  a  tailor  made 
thee. 

Corn.    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'  the  trade. 

Co7'n.    Speak  yet,  how  grew  your  quarrel? 

Osw.  This  ancient  ruffian,  sir,  whose  life  I  have  spared  at 
suit  of  his  gray  beard,  — 

'■>  Kent  purposely  takes  Edmund's  matter  in  the  sense  of  quart  cl,  and 
means,  "  I'll  fight  with  you,  if  you  wish  it."  —  Goodman,  in  old  usage,  is  about 
the  same  as  master  or  mister.  With  boy,  it  is  contemptuous.  The  word 
occurs  repeatedly  in  the  Bible  ;  as  ''  i}ciQ  goodman  of  the  house." 
-  1"  To  flesh  one  is  to  give  him  his  first  trial  in  fighting,  or  to  put  him  to  the 
first  proof  of  his  valour.  So  in  i  King  Henry  IV.,  v.  4  :  "  Full  bravely  hast 
\\\ovi  fleshed  thy  maiden  sword."    See  vol.  xi.  page  159,  note  19. 

11  That  is,  "  Nature  disowns  thee."  To  disclaim  in  was  often  used  for  to 
disclaim  simply.  Bacon  has  it  so  in  his  Advancement  of  Learning.  —  It 
would  seem  from  this  passage,  that  Oswald  is  one  whose  "soul  is  in  his 
clothes."     Hence  fond  of  being  barbered  and  curled  and  made  fine. 

12  Stone-cutter  for  sculptor,  or  an  artist  in  marble. 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR. 


57 


Kent.  Thou  whoreson  zed  !  ^^  thou  unnecessary  letter  !  — 
My  lord,  if  you  will  giv^e  me  leave,  I  will  tread  this  unbolted 
villain  into  mortar,"  and  daub  the  wall  of  a  jakes  with  him. — 
Spare  my  grey  beard,  you  wagtail?  i-'' 

Corn.    Peace,  sirrah  ! 
You  beastly  knave,  know  you  no  reverence  ? 

Kent.    Yes,  sir  ;  but  anger  hatli  a  privilege. 

Cor7i.    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  t'  unloose  ;  '^  smooth  every  passion 
That  in  the  natures  of  their  lords  rebel ; '''' 
Bring  oil  to  fire,  snow  to  their  colder  moods  ; 
Reneag,  affirm,  and  turn  their  halcyon  beaks 
^Vith  every  gale  ^^  and  vary  of  their  masters. 
As  knowing  nought,  like  dogs,  but  following.  — 
A  plague  upon  your  ei)ileptic  visage  !  ''-^ 

i*"  Zed  is  here  used  as  a  term  of  contempt,  because  Z  is  the  last  letter  in 
the  English  alphabet :  it  is  said  to  be  an  unnecessary  letter,  because  its 
place  may  be  supplied  by  S.  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Rnglisli  Grammar,  says 
"  Z  is  a  letter  often  heard  among  us,  but  seldom  seen." 

I*  Unbolted  is  unsifted,  hence  coarse.  The  Poet  has  bolted  rcjicaled'y  in 
the  opposite  sense  oi  refined  ox  pure. 

15  Wagtail,  I  take  it,  comes  pretty  near  meaning/////*)'. 

16  The  image  is  of  a  knot  so  intricate,  that  it  cannot  be  untied.  The 
Poet  uses  intrinsicate  as  another  form  of  intrinse,  in  Antony  and  Clci^patra, 
V.  2:  "With  thy  sharp  teeth  this  knot  intrinsicate  of  life  at  once  untie." 

1"  To  smooth  is,  here,  to  cosset  or  flatter  ;  a  common  usage  in  the  Poet's 
time. —  Rebel  is  here  used  as  agreeing  with  the  nearest  substantive,  instead 
of  with  the  proper  subject.  That.    See  vol.  xiv.  page  154,  note  12. 

18  Reneag  is  renounce  or  deny.  So  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  i.  i :  "  His 
captain's  heart  reneags  all  temper."  It  is  commonly  s[)elt  renege ,'a.T\<S.  some- 
times reneg.  —  The  halcyon  is  a  bird  called  the  kingfisher,  which,  when  drie<l 
and  hung  up  by  a  thread,  was  supposed  to  turn  its  bill  towards  the  point 
whence  the  wind  blew.  So  in  Marlowe's  Jei-u  of  Malta  :  "  liut  now  how 
stands  the  wind  ?  into  what  corner  peers  my  halcyon's  bill  ?  " 

1*  A  visage  distorted  by  grinning,  as  the  n'-xt  line  shows. 


58  KING    LEAR.  ACT  il. 

Smile  you  my  speeches,  as  I  were  a  Fool  ? 
Goose,  if  I  had  you  upon  Sarum  plain, 
I'd  drive  ye  cackling  home  to  Camelot.-o 
Corn.    What,  art  thou  mad,  old  fellow? 
Glos.    How  fell  you  out  ?  say  that. 
Kent.    No  contraries  hold  more  antipathy 
Than  I  and  such  a  knave. 

Corn.    Why  dost  thou  call  him  knave  ?  What's  his  offence  ? 
Kent.    His  countenance  likes  me  not. 
Corn.    No  more,  perchance,  does  mine,  nor  his,  nor  hers. 
Ketit.    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. 

Corn.  This  is  some  fellow, 

Who,  having  been  praised  for  bluntness,  doth  affect 
A  saucy  roughness,  and  constrains  the  garb 
Quite  from  his  nature  :  -^  he  cannot  flatter,  he ; 
An  honest  mind  and  plain,  he  must  speak  truth  ! 
An  they  will  take  it,  so ;  if  not,  he's  plain. 
These  kind  of  knaves  I  know,  which  in  this  plainness 
Harbour  more  craft  and  more  corrupter  ends 
Than  twenty  silly-duckling  6bservants 
That  stretch  their  duties  nicely.—    , 

2"  Sarum  is  an  old  contraction  of  Salisbury.  Salisbury  plain  is  the  largest 
piece  of  flat  surface  in  England,  and  used  to  be  much  noted  as  a  lonely  and 
desolate  region.  —  Camelot  is  said  to  be  a  place  in  Somersetshire  where  large 
numbers  of  geese  were  bred.  Old  romances  also  make  it  the  place  where 
King  Arthur  kept  his  Court  in  the  West.  "  Here,  therefore,"  says  Dyce, 
"  there  is  perhaps  a  double  allusion,  —  to  Camelot  as  famous  for  its  geese, 
and  to  those  knights  who  were  vanquished  by  the  Knights  of  the  Round 
Table  being  sent  to  Camelot  to  yield  themselves  as  vassals  to  King  .■\rthur." 

21  Forces  his  outside,  or  his  appearance,  to  something  totally  differe/it 
from  his  natural  disposition.  —  Garb  is  used  repeatedly  by  Shakespeare  in 
the  sense  of  style  or  manner. 

22  Nicely  \% punctiliously,  with  overstrained  nicety.  —  Coleridge  has  a  just 


SCENE  II.  KlNc;    LEAR.  59 

Kent.    Sir,  in  good  faith,  in  sincere  verity, 
Under  th'  allowance  of  your  great  aspect, 
Whose  influence,  like  the  wreath  of  radiant  fire 
On  flickering  Phoebus'  front,  — 

Corn.  What  mean'st  by  this? 

Kent.  To  go  out  of  my  dialect,  which  you  (hsconimend  so 
much.  I  know,  sir,  I  am  no  flatterer  :  he  that  beguiled  you 
in  a  jilain  accent  was  a  plain  knave  ;  which,  for  my  part,  I 
will  not  be,  though  I  should  win  your  displeasure  to  entreat 
me  to't. 

Corn.    What  was  th'  offence  you  gave  him? 

Osw.    I  never  gave  him  any. 
It  pleased  the  King  his  master  very  late 
To  strike  at  me,  upon  his  misconstruction  ; 
\Vhen  he,  conjunct,  and  flattering  his  displeasure, 
Tripp'd  me  behind  ;  being  down,  insiflted,  rail'd, 
And  put  upon  him  such  a  deal  of  man, 
That  worthied  him,  got  praises  of  the  King 
For  him  attempting  who  was  self-subdued  ;  -^ 
And,  in  the  fleshment  of  this  dread  exploit, 
Drew  on  me  iiere  again. 

Kent.  None  of  tliese  rogues  and  cowards 

But  Aja.\  is  their  focjl.-' 

remark  upon  this  speccli :  "  In  thus  placing  these  ]iiofound  general  trutlis 
in  the  mouths  of  such  men  as  Cornwall,  Edmund,  lago,  &c.,  Shakespeare  at 
once  gives  them  utterance,  and  yet  shows  how  indefinite  their  application 
is."  I  may  add,  that  an  inferior  dramatist,  instead  of  making  his  villains 
use  any  such  vein  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. 

-■''  By  "  liim  who  was  self-subdued,"  Oswald  means  himself,  pretending 
that  the  poor  figure  he  made  was  the  result  of  virtuous  self-control,  and  not 
of  imbecility  or  fear. —  Fleshtnent  here  means  pride  or  elation  ;  or,  as  we 
sjiy, /I us ked.     See  vol.  x.  page  90,  note  5. 

-*  Ajax  is  a  fool  to  them.  "  These  rogues  and  cowards  talk  in  sucli  a 
boasting,  strain  that,  if  wc  were  to  credit  their  account  of  tlicinselves,  Ajax 
would  appear  a  person  of  no  prowess  when  compared  to  them." 


6o  KING    LEAR.  act  ii. 

Corn.  Fetch  forth  the  stocks  !  — 

You  stubborn  ancient  knave,  you  reverend  braggart, 
We'll  teach  you  — 

Kejit.  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  : 
You  shall  do  small  respect,  show  too  bold  malice 
Against  the  grace  and  person  of  my  master. 
Stocking  his  messenger. 

Corn.    Fetch    forth    the    stocks  !  —  As   I    have    life    and 
honour, 
There  shall  he  sit  till  noon. 

Reg.    Till  noon  !  till  night,  my  lord  ;  and  all  night  too. 
Kent.    Why,  madam,  if  I  were  your  father's  dog, 
You  should  not  use  me  so. 

Reg.  Sir,  being  his  knave,  I  will. 

Corn.   This  is  a  fellow  of  the  self-same  colour 
Our  sister  speaks  of.  —  Come,  bring  away  the  stocks  ! 

\_Stocks  brouglit  out. 
Glos.    Let  me  beseech  your  Grace  not  to  do  so  : 
His  fault  is  much,  and  the  good  King  his  master 
Will  check  him  for't.     Your  purposed  low  correction 
Is  such  as  basest  and  contemned'st  wretches 
For  pilferings  and  most  common  trespasses 
Are  punish'd  with  :  the  King  must  take  it  ill, 
That  he,  so  slightly  valued  in  his  messenger, 
Should  have  him  thus  restrain'd. 

Corn.  I'll  answer  that. 

Reg.    My  sister  may  receive  it  much  more  worse, 
To  have  her  gentleman  abused,  assaulted. 
For  following  her  affairs.  —  Put  in  his  legs.  — 

[Kent  is  put  in  the  stocks. 
Come,  my  good  lord,  away. 

\_Exeiint  all  hut  Gloster  and  Kent. 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR.  6l 

Glos.    I'm  sorry  fur  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. 

Kent.    Pray,  do  not,  sir  :   I've  watch'd,  and  travell'd  hard ; 
Some  time  I  shall  sleep  out,  the  rest  I'll  whistle. 
A  good  man's  fortune  may  grow  cnit  at  heels  :  -" 
Give  you  good  morrow  1 

Glos.    The  duke's  to  blame  in  this  ;   'twill  be  ill  taken. 

^Exit. 

Kent.    Good  King,  that  must  approve-''  the  common  saw, 
Thou  out  of  Heaven's  benediction  comest 
To  the  warm  sun  !  -®  — 
Approach,  thou  beacon  to  this  under  globe, 
That  by  thy  comfortable  beams  I  may 
Peruse  this  letter  !  —  Nothing,  almost,  sees  miracles 
But  misery.-^     I  know  'tis  from  Cordelia ; 

25  Rubb'd  is  impeded  or  hifidered.  A  rub  in  a  bowling-alley  is  something 
that  obstructs  or  deflects  the  bowl. 

20  A  man  set  in  the  stocks  was  said  to  be  "  punished  by  the  heels  " ;  and 
Kent  probably  alludes  to  this.  He  also  means,  apparently,  that  the  fortune 
even  of  a  good  man  may  have  holes  in  the  heels  of  its  shoes ;  or,  as  we  say, 
may  be  "  out  at  the  toes,"  or  "  out  at  the  elbows." 

2''  Here,  again,  to  approve  is  to  make  good,  io  prove  true,  to  confirm. 

28  The  saw,  that  is,  the  saying  or  proverb,  alluded  to  is,  "  Out  of  God's 
blessing  into  the  warm  sun  "  ;  which  was  used  to  signify  the  state  of  one  cast 
out  from  the  comforts  and  charities  of  home,  and  left  exposed  to  the  social 
inclemencies  of  the  world.  Lyly,  in  his  Eiipliues,  has  an  apt  instance  of  the 
proverb  reversed  :  "Therefore,  if  tliou  wilt  follow  my  advice,  and  prosecute 
thine  owne  determination,  thou  shalt  come  out  of  a  warm  Sunne  into  God's 
blessing."     See  vol.  iv.  page  182,  note  29. 

2!'  That  is,  hardly  any  but  the  miserable  see  miracles.  Here  see  probably 
means  experience,  —  a  sense  in  which  it  is  often  used.  Kent  appears  to  he 
thinking  of  the  supernatural  cures  and  acts  of  beneficence  recorded  in  the 
Gospels,  where  indeed  miracles  arc  almost  never  wrought  but  in  behalf  of 
the  wretched ;  and  upon  this  thought  he  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. 


62  KING    LEAR.  ACT  n. 

Who  hath  most  fortunately  been  inform'd 

Of  my  obscured  course  ;  and  shall  find  time, 

From  this  enormous  state,  seeking,  to  give 

Losses  their  remedies.-^''     All  weary  and  o'erwatch'd, 

Take  vantage,  heavy  eyes,  not  to  behold 

This  shameful  lodging.    -- 

Fortune,  good  night :  smile  once  more  ;  turn  thy  wheel  ! 

\_Sleeps. 

Scene  III.  —  TJic  open  Coiaitry. 

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.     While  I  may  'scape, 
I  will  preserve  myself;  and  am  bethought 
To  take  the  basest  and  most  poorest  shape 
That  ever  penury,  in  contempt  of  man, 
Brought  near  to  beast :   my  face  Fll  grime  with  filth  ; 

3"  I  here  adopt  the  arrangement  and  explanation  proposed  to  me  by  Mr, 
Joseph  Crosby.  The  verbs  know  and  shall  find  are  in  the  same  construc- 
tion :  "  I  know,  and  I  shall  find."  Enormous  is  used  in  its  proper  Latin 
sense  of  abnormal,  anoinalous,  or  out  of  rule ;  and  refers  to  Kent's  own 
situation,  his  "  obscured  course."  So,  in  the  Shakespeare  portion  of  The 
Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  v.  i,  Mars  is  addressed,  "  O  great  corrector  of  enor- 
mous times,  shaker  of  o'er-rank  States."  So  that  the  meaning  comes  thus : 
"From  this  anomalous  state  of  mine,  I  shall  gain  time  to  communicate  and 
co-operate  with  Cordelia  in  her  endeavour  to  restore  the  kingdom  to  its 
former  condition ;  '  to  give  losses  their  remedies,'  that  is,  to  reinstate  Lear 
on  the  throne,  Cordelia  in  his  favour,  and  myself  in  his  confidence,  and  in 
my  own  rights  and  titles."  All  this  Kent  utters  in  a  disjointed  way,  because 
half-asleep  ;  and  then,  having  viewed  the  situation  as  hopefully  as  he  can,  he 
puts  up  a  prayer  to  Fortune,  and  drops  off  to  sleep. 

1  Here,  as  often,  happy  is,  propitious  or  lucky  ;  like  the  'LaXm  felix. 


SCENE  III.  KING    LEAR.  63 

Blanket  my  loins  ;  elf  all  ni\-  liair  in  knots  ;2 

And  with  j)resented  nakedness  out-face 

The  winds  and  persecutions  of  the  sky. 

The  country  gives  me  proof  and  precedent 

Of  Bedlam  beggars,-^  who,  with  roaring  voices, 

Strike  in  their  numb'd  and  mortified  bare  arms 

Fins,  wooden  pricks,  nails,  sprigs  of  rosemary ; 

And  with  this  horrible  object,  from  low  farms, 

Poor  pelting"*  villages,  sheep-cotes,  and  mills, 

Sometime  with  lunatic  bans,^  sometime  with  prayers, 

Enforce  their  charity.     Poor  Turlygood  .'^     Poor  Totn/ 

That's  something  yet :  Edgar  I  nothing  am. 

2  The  entangling  and  knotting  of  the  hair  was  supposed  to  be  done  by 
elves  and  fairies  in  the  night ;  hence  called  elf-knots. 

3  In  The  Bell-Man  of  London,  by  Dekker,  1640,  is  an  account  of  one  of 
these  characters,  under  the  title  of  Abraham  Man  :  "  He  sweares  he  hatli 
been  in  Bedlam,  and  will  talke  frantickely  of  purpose:  you  see  pinnes  stuck 
in  sundry  places  of  his  naked  flesh,  especially  in  his  amies,  which  paine  he 
gladly  puts  himselfe  to,  only  to  make  you  believe  he  43  out  of  his  wits.  He 
calls  himselfe  by  the  name  of  Poore  Tom,  and,  coming  near  any  body,  cries 
out,  Poor  Tom  is  a-cold." 

^  Pelting  \%  paltry  or  insignificant.     See  vol.  vi.  page  165,  note  9. 

*  Hans  is  curses.  The  Poet  had  no  doubt  often  seen  such  lunatics  roving 
about  in  obscure  places,  and  extorting  pittances  here  and  there,  sometimes 
by  loud  execrations,  sometimes  by  petitionary  whinings. 

<<  Turlygood  appears  to  have  been  a  corruption  of  Tnrlupin,  a  name  ap- 
plied to  a  fanatical  sect  that  overran  France,  Italy,  and  Germany  in  the  13th 
and  14th  centuries.  "  Their  manners  and  appearance,"  says  Douce,  "ex- 
hibited the  strongest  indications  of  lunacy  and  distraction.  The  common 
people  called  them  Turlupins.  Their  subsequent  appellation  of  the  frater- 
nity of  poor  men  might  have  been  the  cause  why  the  wandering  rogues 
called  Bedlam  beggars,  one  of  whom  Hdgar  personates,  assumed  or  ob- 
tained the  title  of  Turlupins  or   Turlyginids." 


64  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Scene  IV.  —  Before  Gloster's  Castle  ;  Kent  in  the  stocks. 
Enter  Lear,  the  P'ool,  and  a  Gentleman. 

Lear.  'Tis  strange  that  tliey  should  so  depart  from  home, 
And  not  send  back  my  messenger. 

Gent.  As  I  learn'd, 

The  night  before  there  was  no  purpose  in  them 
Of  this  remove. 

Kent.  Hail  to  thee,  noble  master  ! 

Lear.    Ha  ! 
Makest  thou  this  shame  thy  pastime  ? 

Kent.  No,  my  lord. 

Fool.  Ha,  ha  !  he  wears  cruel  i  garters.  Horses  are  tied 
by  the  head,  dogs  and  bears  by  the  neck,  monkeys  by  the 
loins,  and  men  by  the  legs  :  when  a  man's  over-lusty  at  legs, 
then  he  wears  wooden  nether-stocks. '- 

Lear.    What's  he  that  hath  so  much  thy  place  mistook 
To  set  thee  here  ? 

Kent.  It  is  both  he  and  she ; 

Your  son  and  daughter. 

Lear.    No. 

Kent.    Yes. 

Lear.    No,  I  say. 

Kent.    I  say,  yea. 

Lear.    No,  no,  they  would  not. 

Ketit.    Yes,  they  have. 

Lear.    By  Jupiter,  I  swear,  no. 

Ke7it.    By  Juno,  I  swear,  ay. 

Lear.  They  durst  not  do't ; 

They  could  not,  would  not  do't ;   'tis  worse  than  murder, 

^  A  quibble  between  cruel  and  c  reive  I ,   the  latter  being  worsted. 
2  Nether-stocks  is  the  old  word  for  what  we  call  stockings. 


SCENE  IV.  Krxr.    LKAR.  65 

To  do  upon  respect-'  such  violent  outrage  : 
Resolve  me,"*  with  all  modest  haste,  which  way 
Thou  mightst  deserve,  or  they  impose,  this  usage, 
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 
From  Goneril  his  mistress'  salutations  ; 
Deliver'd  letters,  spite  of  intermission,^ 
Whicli  presently  they  read  :  on  whose  contents, 
They  summon'd  up  their  meiny,*^  straight  took  horse ; 
Commanded  me  to  follow,  and  attend 
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 
Display'd  so  saucily  against  your  Highness,) 
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." 

8  The  meaning  probably  is,  to  do  deliberately,  or  upon  consideration. 
Sec  page  20,  note  42 ;  also,  vol.  x.  page  79,  note  22. 

<  "Resolve  me  "  is  inform  me  or  assure  me.     A  frequent  usage. 

5  That  is,  in  spite  of  the  interruption  or  delay  naturally  consequent  upon 
what  Kent  was  himself  doing.  In  other  words,  the  "  reeking  post  "  did  not 
heed  Kent's  action  at  all,  nor  allow  himself  to  be  delayed  by  it.  Intermis- 
sion occurs  both  in  The  Merchant  and  in  Macbeth  iox  pause  or  delay,  which 
is  nearly  its  meaning  here. 

0  "  On  reading'  the  contents  o/which  "  is  the  meaning.  —  Mriny  is  from  a 
P'rench  word  meaning  household,  or  retinue. 

7  The  pronoun  /  is  imderstood  here  from  the  fourth  line  above. 

»  "  If  such  is  their  behaviour,  the  King's  troubles  are  not  over  yet.'" 


66  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Fathers  that  wear  rags 

Do  make  their  children  bHnd ; 
But  fathers  that  bear  bags 

Shall  see  their  children  kind. 
Fortune,  that  arrant  whore, 
Ne'er  turns  the  key  to  th'  poor.  — 
But,  for  all  this,  thou  shalt  have  as  many  dolours^  for  thy 
daughters  as  thou  canst  tell  in  a  year. 

Lear.    O,  how  this  mother  ^^  swells  up  toward  my  heart  ! 
Hysterica  passio,  down,  thou  climbing  sorrow. 
Thy  element's  below  ! — -Where  is  this  daughter? 
Kent.    With  the  earl,  sir,  here  within. 

Lear.    Follow  me  not ;  stay  here.  \^Exit. 

Geftt.    Made  you  no  more  offence  but  what  you  speak  of? 
Kent.   None. 
How  chance  the  King  comes  with  so  small  a  train  ? 

Fool.    An  thou  hadst  been  set  i'  the  stocks  for  that  ques- 
tion, thou  hadst  well  deserved  it. 
Kent.    Why,  Fool? 

Fool.  We'll  set  thee  to  school  to  an  ant,  to  teach  thee 
there's  no  labouring  i'  tlie  Winter.^^  All  that  follow  their 
noses  are  led  by  their  eyes  but  blind  men  ;  and  there's  not  a 
nose  among  twenty  but  can  smell  him  that's  stinking.'-     Let 

3  A  quibble  between  dolours  and  dollars.  —  Tell,  in  the  next  line,  is  count, 
and  refers  to  dollars.     See  vol.  vii.  page  39,  note  3. 

1"  Lear  affects  to  pass  off  tlie  swelling  of  his  heart,  ready  to  burst  with 
grief  and  indignation,  for  the  disease  called  the  mother,  or  hysterica  passio, 
which,  in  the  Poet's  time,  was  not  thought  peculiar  to  women. 

11  Referring  to  Proverbs,  vi.  6-8  :  "  Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard  ;  consider 
her  ways,  and  be  wise  :  which  having  no  guide,  overseer,  or  ruler,  provideth 
her  meat  in  the  Summer,  and  gathereth  her  food  in  the  harvest."  And  the 
application  is,  "  If  you  had  learned  of  the  ant,  you  would  have  known  that 
the  King's  train  are  too  shrewd  to  be  making  hay  in  cloudy  weather,  or  to 
think  of  providing  their  meat  when  the  Winter  of  adversity  has  set  in. 

1'^  All  but  blind  men  are  led  by  their  eyes,  though  they  follow  their  noses  ; 
and  these,  seeing  the  King's  forlorn  condition,  have  forsaken  him ;  while 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  6/ 

go  thy  hold  when  a  great  wheel  runs  down  a  liill,  lest  it 
break  thy  neck  with  following  it ;  but  the  great  one  that 
goes  up  the  hill,  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, 

.•\nd  follows  but  for  form, 
Will  pack  when  it  begins  to  rain, 

And  leave  thee  in  the  storm. 
But  I  will  tarr\- ;  the  Fool  will  stay, 

And  let  the  wise  man  fly  : 
The  knave  turns  fool  that  runs  away, 
The  Fool  no  knave,  perdy.'-^ 
Kent.    Where  learn'd  you  this.  Fool? 
Fool.    Not  i'  the  stocks,  fool. 

Re-enter  Lear,  with  Gloster. 

Lear.    Deny  to    speak  with  me?     They're  sick?   they're 
wear)'  ? 
They've  travell'd  hard  to-night?     Mere  fetches  ;  ''' 
'I'he  images  of  revolt  and  flying-off. 
Fetch  me  a  better  answer. 

Glos.  My  dear  lord, 

V'ou  know  the  fiery  quality  of  the  duke  ; 

<!vcn  of  the  Mind,  wlio  have  nothing  but  their  noses  to  guide  tlictn,  thcic  is 
not  one  in  twenty  but  can  smell  him  who,  being "  muddy  in  Fortune's 
mood,  smells  somewhat  strong  of  her  displeasure."  It  is  to  be  noted  lh.it 
the  Fool  does  not  know  Kent,  and  therefore  cannot  conceive  the  motive  of 
his  action;  so  here,  in  characteristic  fashion,  he  is  satirizing  Kent's  ad- 
herence to  the  King,  as  showing  him  to  be  without  cither  sight  or  smell ; 
that  is,  as  having  no  sense  at  all. 

I'T  Here  the  Fool  may  be  using  the  trick  of  suggesting  a  thing  by  saying 
its  opposite.  Or  perhaps  he  is  playing  upon  the  two  senses  of  knave,  one 
of  which  is  servant.  This  would  infer  who  the  real  fools  in  the  world  arc 
Coleridge  says  "  a  knave  is  a  fool  with  a  circumbendibus." 

I'  t'eUh  was  often  i)§cc}  for  device, pretext,  or  stratagem. 


68  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

How  unremovable  and  fix'd  he  is 
In  his  own  course. 

Lear.    Vengeance  !  plague  !  death  !  confusion  I 
Fiery?  what  quality?     Why,  Gloster,  Gloster, 
I'd  speak  wi'  th'  Duke  of  Cornwall  and  his  wife. 

Glos.    Well,  my  good  lord,  I  have  inform'd  them  so. 

Lear.    Inform'd  them  !     Dost  thou  understand  me,  man  ? 

Glos.   Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Lear.    The   King  would  speak  with    Cornwall ;    the  dear 
father 
Would  with  his  daughter  speak  ;  commands  her  service  :  '^ 
Are  they  inform'd  of  this?     My  breath  and  blood  ! 
Fiery?  the  fiery  duke?     Tell  the  hot  duke  that  — 
No,  but  not  yet ;  may  be  he  is  not  well ; 
Infirmity  doth  still  neglect  all  office 
Whereto  our  health  is  bound ;  we're  not  ourselves 
When  nature,  being  oppress'd,  commands  the  mind 
To  suffer  with  the  body.     I'll  forbear  ; 
And  am  fall'n  out  with  ray  more  headier  will. 
To  take  ^"^  the  indisposed  and  sickly  fit 
For  the  sound  man.  —  \_I^flokiii!^  on  Kent. 

Death  on  my  state  !  wherefore 
Should  he  sit  here  ?     This  act  persuades  me 
That  this  remotion  ^"^  of  the  duke  and  her 
Is  practice  only.     Give  me  my  servant  forth. 
Go  tell  the  duke  and's  wife  I'd  speak  with  them, 

1°  Lear  is  here  asserting  something  of  the  regal  authority  which  he  has 
abdicated;  and  his  meaning  depends  somewhat  on  an  emphasizing  of  the 
words  King,  commands,  and  service. 

IS  The  infinitive  io  take  is  liere  used  gerundively,  or  like  the  Latin  gerund, 
and  so  is  equivalent  to  in  taking.  See  vol.  vi.  page  i8i,  note  7.  —  Here  the 
Poet  follows  a  well-known  Latin  idiom,  using  the  comparative  more  headier, 
in  the  sense  of  too  heady,  that  is,  too  headlong. 

1''  Remotion  for  removal ;  referring  to  Cornwall  and  Regan's  action  in 
departing  from  home. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  69 

Now,  presently  :  bid  them  come  forth  and  hear  me. 

Or  at  their  chamber-door  I'll  beat  the  drum 

Till  it  cry  sleep  to  death. ^^ 

Glos.    I  would  have  all  well  betwixt  you.  \^Exit. 

Lear.    O  me,  my  heart,  my  rising  heart  !     But,  down  I 
Fool.    Cry  to  it,  nuncle,  as  the  cockney  ^^  did  to  the  eels 

when  she  put  'em  i'  the  paste  alive ;  she  rapt  'em   o'  the 

coxcombs  with  a  stick,  and  cried,  Down,  zvantons,  doion  ! 

'Twas  her  brother  that,  in  pure  kindness  to  his  iiorse,  butter'd 

his  hay. 

Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  Gloster  and  Servants. 

Lear.    Good  morrow  to  you  both. 

Corn.  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 
I  have  to  think  so  :   if  thou  shouldst  not  be  glad, 
I  would  divorce  me  from  thy  mother's  tomb, 
S.-pulchring  an  adultrcss.  —  \^To  Kent.]    O,  are  you  free? 
Some  other  time  for  that.  —  Beloved  Regan, 
Thy  sister's  naught :   O  Regan,  she  hath  tied 
Sharp-tooth'd  unkindness,  like  a  vulture,  here  : 

\_Points  to  his  heart. 
I  can  scarce  speak  to  thee  ;  thou 'it  not  believe 
Gf  how  depraved  a  (juality  —  O  Regan  ! 

Reg.    I  pray  you,  sir,  take  patience  :   I  have  hope 
You  less  know  how  to  value  her  desert 


'8  That  is.  till  it  kills  sleep  with  noise  and  clamour. 

IJ  The  etymology,  says  Nares,  seems  most  probable,  which  derives  cock- 
ney from  cookery.  Le  pays  de  cocagnc,  or  coquamc,  in  old  l-'rcncli,  me.uis  a 
country  of  good  cheer.  This  Lubbeiland,  as  Florio  calls  it.  seems  to  liave 
been  proverbial  for  tlic  simplicity  or  gullibility  of  its  inhabitants.  Dekki-r,  in 
his  Newes.from  Hell,  says,  "  'Tis  not  our  fault ;  but  our  mothers,  our  cock- 
ering mothers,  who  for  their  labour  made  us  to  be  called  cockneys!' 


70  KING    LEAR.  ACT  il 

Than  she  to  scant  her  duty.-'^ 

Lear.  Say,  how  is  that? 

Reg.    I  cannot  think  my  sister  in  the  least 
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, 
As  clears  her  from  all  blame. 

Lea?-.    My  curses  on  her  ! 

Reg-  O,  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 
Better  than  you  yourself.     Therefore,  I  pray  you 
That  to  our  sister  you  do  make  return  ; 
Say  you  have  wrong'd  her,  sir. 

Lear.  Ask  her  forgiveness  ? 

Do  you  but  mark  how  this  becomes  the  House  :  "' 
[Kneeling.]    Dear  daughter,  I  confess  that  L  am  old; 
Age  is  unnecessary  :  -^  on  my  knees  L  beg 
Tliat  you'll  vouchsafe  me  raiment,  bed,  and  food. 

Reg.    Good  sir,  no  moie  ;  these  are  unsightly  tricks  : 

21^  There  is  something  of  perplexity  here.  Taken  strictly,  the  passage  can 
only  mean,  "  She  knows  beUcr  how  to  be  wanting  in  her  duty  than  you  know 
how  to  value  her  desert  "  ;  which  is  clearly  the  reverse  of  the  sense  intended. 
The  difficulty  grows  from  putting  a  positive  and  a  negative  clause  together 
in  a  comparison.  Change  the  positive  clause  into  a  negative,  and  the  sense 
comes  right,  thus  :  "  You  know  not  how  to  value  her  desert,  rather  than  she 
knows  how  to  be  wanting  in  her  duty."  Still  better,  perhaps,  if  we  change 
the  negative  clause  into  a  positive :  "  You  less  know  how  to  value  her  de- 
sert than  she  knows  how  to  do  her  duty." 

-1  How  it  comports  with  the  order  of  the  family  or  of  tlie  domestic  rela- 
tions, that  the  father  should  be  a  kneeling  suppliant  to  the  child. 

"  Unnecessary,  here,  is  commonly  explained  as  meaning  necessitous,  or 
7vithout  the  necessaries  of  life.  But  the  more  probable  explanation  takes 
Lear  as  giving  an  ironical  apology  for  the  uselessness  of  his  existence.  "  An 
old  man,  such  as  I  am,  can  be  of  no  use  to  any  one,  and  so  must  be  con- 
tent to  live  upon  alms." 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  7 1 

Return  you  to  my  sister. 

Lear.    \_Rising.'\  Never,  Regan: 

She  hath  abated  me  of  half  my  train  ; 
Look'd  black  upon  me  ;  struck  me  with  her  tongue, 
Most  serpent-like,  upon  the  very  heart. 
All  the  stored  vengeances  of  Heaven  fall 
On  her  ingrateful  top  !     Strike  her  young  bones, 
You  taking  airs,  with  lameness  ! 

Corn.  Fie,  sir,  fie  ! 

Lear.    You  nimble  lightnings,  dart  your  blinding  flames 
Into  her  scornful  eyes  !      Infect  her  beaut), 
Ycni  fen-suck'd  fogs,  drawn  by  the  powerful  Sun, 
To  fall--'  and  blast  her  pride  ! 

Rei!^.    O  the  blest  gods  !  so  will  you  wish  on  me, 
\\'hen  the  rash  mood  is  on. 

L.ear.    No,  Regan,  thou  shalt  never  have  my  curse  : 
Thy  tender-hefted  -^  nature  shall  not  give 
Thee  o'er  to  harshness  :   her  eyes  are  fierce ;  but  thine 
Do  comfort  and  not  burn.     'Tis  not  in  thee 
To  grudge  my  pleasures,  to  cut  off  my  train, 
To  bandy  hasty  words,  to  scant  my  sizes,^^ 
.And,  in  conclusion,  to  oppose  the  bolt 
Against  my  coming  in  :  thou  better  knovv'st 
The  offices  of  nature,  bond  of  childhood, 
Effects  of  courtesy,  dues  of  gratitude  ; 

'-•■'  Fall  is  here  a  transitive  verb,  meaning  take  down  or  abase. 

-■•  The  best  explanation  of  this  is  given  in  The  Edinburgh  Kevie^o,  July, 
1869:  "lleft  is  a  well-known  older  English  word  f<ir  handle,  that  whiclj 
liolds  or  contains;  and  tcnder-heped  is  simply  delicately  housed,  finely 
sheathed.  Ileft  was  in  this  way  applied  proverbially  to  the  body;  and 
Howell  has  a  phrase,  quoted  by  Halliwell,  which  is  a  good  example  of  its 
graphic  use,  — '  loose  in  the  heft,"  — to  designate  an  ill  habit  of  body,  a  per- 
son of  dissipated  ways.  Tendrr-hcfted  is,  therefore,  lender-bodied,  delicately- 
organized,  or,  more  \\\.K.x-a.\\y ,fincly-fii:shed." 

2^  A  size  is  a  portion  or  allotment  of  food.  The  term  sizer  is  Slill  used  at 
the  English  universities  for  students  living  on  a  stated  allowance. 


72  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Thy  half  o'  the  kingdom  hast  thou  not  forgot, 
Wherein  I  thee  endow'd. 

R^g-  Good  sir,  to  th'  purpose, 

Lear.    Who  put  my  man  i' the  stocks  ?        \  Tucket  within. 

Corn.  What  trumpet's  that? 

Reg.    I  know't,  —  my  sister's  :  this  approves  her  letter, 
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.^^  — 
Out,  varlet,  from  my  sight  ! 

Co7-n.  What  means  your  Grace  ? 

Lear.  Who  stock'd  my  servant  ?  Regan,  I  have  good  hope 
Thou  didst  not  know  on't.  Who  comes  here?  —  O  Heavens, 

Enter  Goneril. 

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  !  — 

S^To  GoN.]    Art  not  ashamed  to  look  upon  this  beard?  — 

O  Regan,  wilt  thou  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'  the  stocks? 

Corn.    I  set  him  there,  sir ;  but  liis  own  disorders 
Deserved  much  less  advancement. 

26  Whose  pride  depends  upon,  or  comes  and  goes  with  the  shifting  yawowr 
of  his  mistress ;  who  puts  on  airs  or  falls  his  crest  according  as  she  smiles 
or  frowns  upon  him. 

27  To  allow  in  its  old  sense  of  approve.  So  in  the  nth  Psalm  of  The 
Psalter :  "  The  Lord  allnjveth  the  righteous."     See  vol.  vi.  page  46,  note  19. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LKAR.  73 

Lear.  You!  did  you? 

Reg.    I  pray  you,  father,  being  weak,  seem  so.-'^ 
If,  till  the  expiration  of  your  month, 
You  will  return  and  sojourn  with  my  sister. 
Dismissing  half  your  train,  come  then  to  me  : 
I'm  now  from  home,  and  out  of  that  provision 
Which  shall  be  needful  for  your  entertainment. 

Lear.    Return  to  her,  and  fifty  men  dismiss'd  ? 
No,  rather  I  abjure  all  roofs,  and  choose 
To  wage  against  the  enmity  o'  the  air ; 
To  be  a  comrade  with  the  wolf,  and  howl 
Necessity's  sharp  pinch  !^^     Return  with  her? 
Why,  the  hot-blooded  France,  that  dowerless  took 
Our  youngest-born,  I  could  as  well  be  brought 
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.  {^Pointing  at  Oswald 

Gon.  At  your  choice,  sir. 

Lear.    I  pr'ythee,  daughter,  do  not  make  me  mad  : 

28  "  Since  you  are  weak,  be  content  to  think  yourself  so." 

29  "  Necessity's  sharp  pinch  "  is  of  course  the  pain  of  hunger  or  of  cold. 
So,  later  in  this  play,  we  have  "  the  belly-pinched  wolf,"  to  signify  the  same 
pain.  Shakespeare  seems  rather  fond  of  the  word  howl,  to  express  the 
shrieks  or  outcries  of  human  want  or  pain  or  anguish.  So  in  Macbeth,  iv. 
3:  "Each  morn  new  widows  howl;  new  orphans  cry."  And  again;  "I 
have  words  that  would  be  howl'd  out  in  the  desert  air."  Also  ih  Henry  the 
Fifth,  iii.  2:  "Whiles  the  mad  mothers  with  their  howls  confused  do  break 
the  clouds."  And  in  Hamlet,  v.  i:"  A  ministering  angel  shall  my  sister  be, 
when  thou  liest  howling:"  I  do  not  understand  Lear  to  mean  that  he  would 
literally  cohabit  or  herd  with  wolves,  but  merely  that  he  would  be  like 
them,  or  in  the  same  condition  with  them,  in  this  repcct,  that  he  would  roam 
at  large,  homeless,  roofless,  and  submit  to  such  extremities  of  hunger  and 
cold  as  would  force  him  to  howl  forth  his  need  of  food  and  warmth.  See 
Critical  Notes. 

8"  Sumpter  is  used  along  with  horse  or  mule,  to  signify  one  tiiat  carries 
provisions  or  other  necessaries. 


74  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

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, 

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.^^ 

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 ; 
For  those  that  mingle  reason  with  your  passion 
Must  be  content  to  think  you  old  ;  and  so  — 
But  she  knows  what  she  does. 

Lear.  Is  this  well  spoken  ? 

Reg.    I  dare  avouch  it,  sir.     What,  fifty  followers  ! 
Is  it  not  well  ?     AVhat  should  you  need  of  more  ? 
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 
From  those  that  she  calls  servants  or  from  mine? 

Reg.    Why  not,  my  lord  ?    If  then  they  chanced  to  slack  you, 

31  Embossed  is  swollen  ox  protuberant ;  like  the  boss  of  a  shield. 

32  "  The  Thunder-bearer"  is  the  same  as  Jove  the  Thunderer.     So  that 
Nor  connects  "  do  not  bid  ''  and  "  tell  tales." 

33  Sith  and  sithence  were  old  forms  just  falling  out  of  use  in  the  Poet's 
time,  and  now  entirely  superseded  by  since. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  75 

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 
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  follow'd 
With  such  a  number.     What,  must  1  come  to  )0u 
With  five-and-twenty,  Regan  ?  said  you  so  ? 

Reg.    And  speak't  again,  my  lord  ;  no  more  with  me. 

Lear.    Those  wicked  creatures  yet  do  look  well-favour'd, 
When  others  are  more  wicked  ;  not  l)eing  the  worst 
Stands  in  some  rank  of  praise.  —  {^To  CioN.]   I'll  go  with  thee  : 
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  ? 

Reg.  What  need  one  ? 

Lear.   O,  reason  not  the  need  :  our  basest  beggars 
Are  in  the  poorest  thing  superfluous  : 
Allow  not  nature  more  than  nature  needs, 

•^■'  Tliis  spurt  of  malice,  snapped  in  upon  Lear's  pathetic  appeal,  is  the 
ne  pirn  ultra  of  human  ficndishness.  This  cold,  sharp  venom  of  retort  is 
what  chiefly  distinguishes  Regan  from  Goneril :  otherwise  they  seem  too 
much  like  repetitions  of  each  other  to  come  fiirly  within  the  circle  of  Nature, 
who  never  repeats  lierself.  Professor  Dowden  discriminates  these  intel- 
lectual and  strong-minded  girls  as  follows  :  "  The  two  terrible  creatures  are 
distinguishable.  Goneril  is  the  calm  wieldcr  of  a  pitiless  force,  the  resolute 
initiator  of  cruelty.  Regan  is  a  smaller,  shriller,  fiercer,  more  eager  piece  of 
malice.  The  tyranny  of  the  eldi-r  sister,  is  a  cold,  persistent  pressure, 
as  little  affected  by  tenderness  or  scruple  as  the  action  of  some  crushing 
hammer;  Regan's  ferocity  is  more  unmeasured,  and  less  abnormal  or  mon- 
strous." 


76  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Man's  life  is  cheap  as  beast's.     Thou  art  a  lady : 

If  only  to  go  warm  were  gorgeous, 

Why,  nature  needs  not  what  thou  gorgeous  wear'st, 

Which  scarcely  keeps  thee  warm.'^'^     Pint,  for  true  need,  — 

You  Heavens,  give  me  patience,  — ■  patience  I  need  ! 

You  see  me  here,  you  gods,  a  poor  old  man, 

As  full  of  grief  as  age  ;  wretched  in  both  ! 

If  it  be  you  that  stir  these  daughters'  hearts 

Against  their  father,  fool  me  not  so  much 

To  bear  it  tamely  ;  touch  me  with  noble  anger. 

And  let  not  women's  weapons,  water-drops, 

Stain  my  man's  cheeks  !  —  No,  you  unnatural  hags  ! 

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,  I'll  not  weep  : 

I  have  full  cause  of  weeping  ;  but  this  heart 

Shall  break  into  a  hundred  thousand  flaws,-''' 

Or  e'er  I'll  weep.  —  O  Fool,  I  shall  go  mad  ! 

\_Ext:iint  Lear,  Gloster,  Kent,  ajid  Fool. 
Storm  heard  at  a  distance. 

Corn.    Let  us  withdraw  ;   'twill  be  a  storm. 

Reg.    This  house  is  little  :  th'  old  man  and  his  people 
Cannot  be  well  bestow'd. 

Goii.    'Tis  his  own  blame  ;  'hath  put  himself  from  rest. 
And  must  needs  taste  his  folly. 

Reg.    For  his  particular,  I'll  receive  him  gladly, 

"5  The  scope  of  this  reasoning  seems  to  be,  "  You  need  clothing  only  for 
warmth  ;  yet  you  pile  up  expense  of  dress  for  other  ends,  while  your  dress, 
after  all,  hardly  meets  that  natural  want ;  which  shows  that  you  would 
rather  suffer  lack  of  warmth  than  of  personal  adornment." 

36  Flaws  formerly  s\gn\fied  /ra^?ncnts,  as  well  as  mere  cracks.  The  word, 
as  Bailey  observes,  was  "  especially  applied  to  the  breaking  off  shivers  or 
thin  pieces  from  precious  stones." 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAR.  "JJ 

But  not  one  follower. 

Gon.  So  am  I  purposed. 

Where  is  my  Lord  of  Gloster? 

Com.    Follow 'd  the  old  man  forth.      He  is  return'd. 

Re-enter  Gloster. 

Glos.    The  King  is  in  high  rage. 

Corn.  Whither  is  he  going? 

Glos.    He  calls  to  horse  ;   bat  will  I  know  not  whither. 

Corn.    'Tis  best  to  give  him  way  ;  he  leads  himself 

Gon.   My  lord,  entreat  him  by  no  means  to  stay.^''' 

Glos.    Alack  !   the  night  comes  on,  and  the  bleak  winds 
Do  sorely  ruffle  ;  for  many  miles  about 
There's  scarce  a  bush. 

Reg.  O,  sir,  to  wilful  men 

The  injuries  that  they  themselves  procure 
Must  be  their  schoolmasters.     Shut  up  your  doors  : 
He  is  attended  with  a  desperate  train  ; 
And  what  they  may  incense  him  to,  being  apt 
To  have  iiis  ear  abused,  wisdom  bids  fear. 

Corn.    Shut  up  your  doors,  my  lord  ;   'tis  a  wild  niglit  : 
My  Regan  counsels  well.     Come  out  o'  the  storm. 

\_Excunt. 


ACT  ni. 

Scene  I.  —  A  Heath.  A  Storm,  zcn/h  Thumler  and  Lightning 

Enter  Kent  and  a  Gentleman,  meeting. 

Kent.    W'ho's  here,  besides  foul  weather? 

Gent.    One  minded,  like  the  weather,  most  un([uietly. 

Kent.    \  know  you.     Where's  the  King? 

"  "  Do  not  by  any  means  entreat  him  to  si;iy,"  is  ilie  meaning. 


7-8  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III 

Gent.    Contending  with  the  fretful  elements  ; 
Bids  the  wind  blow  the  earth  into  the  sea, 
Or  swell  the  curled  waters  'bove  the  main,^ 
That  things  might  change  or  cease ;  tears  his  white  hair, 
Which  the  impetuous  blasts,  with  eyeless  rage, 
Catch  in  their  fury,  and  make  nothing  of; 
Strives  in  his  little  world  of  man  t'  out-scorn 
The  to-and-fro-conflicting  wind  and  rain. 
This  night,  wherein  the  cub-drawn  bear  would  couch, 
The  lion  and  the  belly-pinched  wolf- 
Keep  their  fur  dry,  unbonneted  he  runs. 
And  bids  what  will  take  all. 

Kent.  But  who  is  with  him? 

Gent.    None  but  the  Fool  ;  who  labours  to  out-jest 
His  heart-struck  injuries. 

Kent.  Sir,  I  do  know  you  ; 

And  dare,  upon  the  warrant  of  my  note,^ 
Commend  a  dear  thing  to  you.     There's  division, 
Although  as  yet  the  face  of  it  be  cover'd 
With  mutual  cunning,  'twixt  Albany  and  Cornwall ; 
Who  have  —  as  who  have  not,  that  their  great  stars 
Throne  and  set  high  ?  —  servants,  who  seem  no  less, 
Which  are  to  France  the  spies  and  speculators 
Intelligent  of  our  State  ;  "^  what  hatli  been  seen, 

1  Lear  wishes  for  the  destruction  of  the  world,  either  by  the  winds  blowing 
the  land  into  the  water,  or  raising  the  waters  so  as  to  overwhelm  the  land. 

2  A  bear  made  fierce  by  suckling  her  cubs ;  a  wolf  enraged  by  the  gnaw- 
ings  of  hunger. 

3  Note  for  notice,  knowledge,  or  observation ;  referring  to  "  !  do  ktiow 
you."  Shakespeare  repeatedly  uses  note  thus.  Here,  as  in  divers  other 
places,  commend  has  the  sense  of  commit.     See  vol.  vii.  page  183,  note  16. 

*  "  Who  seem  the  servants  of  Albany  and  Cornwall,  but  are  really  engaged 
in  the  service  of  France  as  spies,  gathering  and  conveying  information  of  all 
that  is  done  here."  Intelligent  here  carries  the  sense  not  only  of  knowing, 
but  also  oi  giving  intelligence;  intelligencers. — Speculator  in  the  Latin 
sense  oi  observer  or  looker-on. 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAK.  79 

Kilher  in  snuffs  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 
Into  this  scatter'd  kingdom  ;  "^  who  already. 
Wise  in  our  negligence,  have  secret  feet^ 
In  some  of  our  best  ports,  and  are  at  point 
To  show  their  open  banner.     Now  to  you  : 
If  on  my  credit  you  dare  build  so  far 
To  make  your  speed  to  r3over,  you  shall  find 
Some  that  will  thank  you,  making  just  report 
Of  h(nv  unnatural  and  bemadding  sorrow 
The  King  hath  cause  to  plain. 
I  am  a  gentleman  of  blood  and  breeding ; 
And,  from  some  knowledge  and  assurance,  offer 
This  office  to  you. 

Gent.    I  will  talk  further  with  you. 

Kent.  No,  do  not. 

For  confirmation  that  I  am  much  more 
Than  my  out-wall,  open  tliis  i)nrse,  and  take 
\Vhat  it  contains.     If  you  shall  see  Cordelia,  — 
.•\s  fear  not  but  you  shall,  —  show  her  this  ring  ; 
And  she  will  tell  you  who  ytjur  fellow  is  ^ 
That  yet  you  do  not  know.      I'^ie  on  this  storm  ! 
I  will  go  seek  the  King. 

Gent.    Give  me  your  hand  :   have  you  no  more  to  say? 

''  Snuffs  are  dislikes,  and  packings  underhand  contrivances. 

«  That  is,  whereof  these  things  arc  but  the  trimmings  or  appendages ;  not 
the  thing  itself,  but  only  tlie  circumstances  ox  furniture  of  the  tiling. 

'  That  is,  having  its  military  force  scattered;  or,  perhaps,  dutraited  by 
the  feud  between  Albany  and  Cornwall. 

«  Wasc  secret  footing  ;  \\7\\<z  landed  secretly.  —  .At  point,  next  line,  is  ready 
in  prepared  ;  on  the  point  of  slioxuing,  as  we  should  say. 

"  Fellow  was  often  used  for  companion. 


80  KING    LEAR. 


ACT    lit 


Kent.    Few  words,  but,  to  effect,  more  than  all  yet ; 
That,  when  we've  found  the  King,  —  in  which  your  pain 
That  way,  I'll  this,i°  —  he  that  first  lights  on  him 
Holla  the  other.  \_Exeunt  severally. 

Scene  II.  —  Another  Part  of  the  Heath.    Storm  continues. 
E?iter  Lear  a?id  the  Fool. 

Lear.    Blow,  winds,  and  crack  your  cheeks  !  rage  !  blow  ! 
You  cataracts  and  hurricanoes,^  spout 
Till  you  have  drench'd  our  steeples,  drown'd  the  cocks  ! 
You  sulphurous  and  thought-executing  fires,^ 
Vaunt-couriers  to  oak-cleaving  thunderbolts, 
Singe  my  white  head  !     And  thou,  all-shaking  thunder, 
Strike  flat  the  thick  rotundity  o'  the  world  ! 
Crack  Nature's  moulds,  all  germens  spill  at  once,^ 
That  make  ingrateful  man  ! 

Fool.  O  nuncle,  court  holy-water'*  in  a  dry  house  is  bet- 
ter than  this  rain-water  out  o'  door.  Good  nuncle,  in,  and 
ask  thy  daughters'  blessing  :  here's  a  night  pities  neither  wise 
men  nor  fools. 

1"  "  In  which  search  you  take  pains  in  that  direction,  and  I  will  in  this." 
1  Hiiiricano  was  the  seaman's  term  for  what  we  call  a  water-spout.  So  in 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  v.  2 :  "  Not  the  dreadful  spout,  which  shipmen  do  the 
hurricano  call,  constringed  in  mass  by  the  almighty  Sun,  shall  dizzy  with 
more  clamour  Neptune's  ear  in  his  descent,"  &c.  —  A  cataract  is  any  flood 
of  falling  water,  whether  from  the  sky  or  over  a  precipice. 

■-  Thought-executing  may  mean  acting  with  the  swiftness  of  thought,  or 
executing  the  thoughts  of  Jupiter  Tonans.  —  Vaunt-couriers  originally  meant 
the  foremost  scouts  of  an  army,  as  lightning  foreruns  thunder. 

3  There  is  a  parallel  passage  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  iv.  3 :  "  Let  Nature 
crush  the  sides  o'  the  Earth  together,  and  mar  the  seeds  within." 

4  Court  holy-7oater  is  fair  words  and  flattering  speeches.  So  Chilling- 
worth,  in  one  of  liis  sermons:  "Can  any  man  think  so  unworthily  of  our 
Saviour,  as  to  esteem  these  words  of  His  for  no  better  than  compliment  f  for 
nothing  but  court  holy-water  ?  " 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR.  8 1 

Lear.    Rumble  thy  bellyful  :     Spit,  fire  !  spout,  rain  ! 
Nor  rain,  wind,  thunder,  fire,  are  my  daughters  : 
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. 
But  yet  I  call  you  servile  ministers. 
That  have  with  two  pernicious  daughters  join'd 
Your  high-engender'd  battles  'gainst  a  head 
So  old  and  white  as  this  !     O  !  O  !   'tis  foul  ! 

Fool.  He  that  has  a  house  to  put's  head  in  has  a  good 
head-piece. 

The  cod-piece  ''  that  will  house 

Before  the  head  has  any, 
The  head  and  he  shall  louse ; 

So  beggars  marry  many.''' 
The  man  that  makes  his  toe 

What  he  his  heart  should  make 
Shall  of  a  corn  cry  Woe  !  ^ 
And  turn  his  sleep  to  wake  : 

5  Are  under  no  oath  or  obligation  of  service  of  kindness  to  me.  Refer- 
ring to  the  binding  force  of  one's  signature.     See  page  23,  note  5. 

^  Codpiece  was  the  coarse  name  given  to  an  indelicate  part  of  inasculin& 
attire,  now  out  of  use.  It  was  very  conspicuous,  and  was  used  for  sticking 
pins  and  carrying  the  purse  in,  &'C.     See  vol.  ii.  page  41,  note  26. 

'  I  am  not  clear  whether  this  means  that  many  beggars  marry,  or  that  a 
beggar  has  many  bedfellows.  Pchaps  the  saying  of  Sir  Hugh  Evans  will  fit 
the  case :  "  The  dozen  white  louses  do  become  an  old  coat  well :  it  is  a 
familiar  beast  to  man,  and  signifies  love." 

8  A  covert  allusion  to  the  King.  Making  the  heart  and  the  toe  change 
places  with  each  other  is  the  Fool's  characteristic  figure  for  such  an  inver- 
sion of  things  as  Lear  has  made  in  setting  his  daughters  above  himself. 
Perhaps  Mr.  I-'urness's  comment  is  right :  "  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  pn-fcrrrcl  Rcijmii  and  ( Jonrril  to  Cordelia." 


82  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

for  there  was  never  yet  fair  woman  but  she  made  mouths  in 
a  glass.^ 

Lear.    No,  I  will  be  the  pattern  of  all  patience  ; 
I  will  say  nothing. 

Enter  Kent. 

Kent.   Who's  there  ? 

Fool.    Marry,  here's  Grace  and  a  cod-piece  ;  i"   that's  a 
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  11  the  very  wanderers  of  the  dark, 
And  make  them  keep  their  caves  :  since  I  was  man, 
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'  affliction  nor  the  fear.i- 

Lear.  Let  the  great  gods, 

That  keep  this  dreadful  pudder  o'er  our  heads, 
Find  out  their  enemies  now.     Tremble,  thou  wretch, 
That  hast  within  thee  undivulged  crimes, 
Unwhipp'd  of  justice  :  hide  thee,  thou  bloody  hand ; 


5  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  look- 
ing-glass raises  a  smile.  —  FuRNESS. 

i**  Meaning  the  King  and  himself;  Grace  being  a  common  title  of  roy- 
alty.—  "Shakespeare,"  says  Douce,  "  has  with  some  humour  applied  cod- 
piece to  the  Fool,  who  was  usually  provided  with  this  unseemly  part  of 
dress  in  a  more  remarkable  manner  than  other  persons." 

11  To  gallow  is  to  frighten,  to  terrify.  The  word  is  exceedingly  rare; 
though  the  form  gaily  is  said  to  be  used  in  the  West  of  England.  And 
Huntley,  in  his  Glossary  of  the  Cotswold  Dialect,  has  "  Gallow.  To  alarm  ; 
to  frighten." 

12  Affliction  for  infliction  ;  then  equivalent  terms.  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." 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR.  83 

Thou  perjured,  and  thou  simular  '•''  of  virtue 
That  art  incestuous  :  caitiff,  to  pieces  shake, 
That  under  covert  and  convenient  seeming 
Hast  practised  on  man's  life  :  close  pent-up  guilts, 
Rive  your  concealing  continents,''^  and  cry 
These  dreadful  summoners  grace. '■''     I  am  a  man 
More  sinn'd  against  than  sinning. 

Kent.  Alack,  bare-headed  ! 

Gracious  my  lord,  hard  by  here  is  a  hovel ; 
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. 
Denied  me  to  come  in  —  return,  and  force 
Their  scanted  courtesy. 

Lear.  My  wits  begin  to  turn. — 

Come  on,  my  boy  :   how  dost,  my  boy?  art  cold? 
I'm  cold  myself.  —  Where  is  this  straw,  my  fellow? 
The  art  of  our  necessities  is  strange. 

That  can  make  vile  things  jjrecious."'     Come,  your  hovel, — 
Poor  l''ool  and  knave,  I've  one  })art  in  my  heart 
That's  sorry  yet  for  thee. 

Fool.    [Sings.] 

lie  that  luis  aiul^'  a  little  tiny  loit, 

1'  Simular  for  simulator.  A  simulator  is  one  who  puis  on  tlic  show  of 
what  he  is  not,  as  a  dissimulator  ])uts  off  the  show  of  what  he  is. 

'■i  Continent  for  that  which  contains  or  encloses.  So  in  .Intony  and  Cleo- 
patra, iv.  14 :  "  Heart,  once  be  stronger  than  tliy  continent" 

IS  Summoners  are  officers  that  summon  offenders  for  trial  or  punishment. 
To  cry  grace  is  to  beg  for  mercy  or  pardon.  Lear  is  regarding  the  raging 
elements  as  the  agents  or  representatives  of  the  gods,  calling  criminals  to 
judgment. 

"■'  An  allusion  to  alchemy,  which  was  supposed  to  have  the  power  of 
transmuting  vile  metals  into  precious,  as  lead  into  gold. 

17  In  old  ballads,  and  is  sometimes,  as  here,  apparently  redundant,  but 
adds  a  sliglit  force  to  the  expression,  like  even. 


84  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

With  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain, 

Must  ffiake  content  with  his  fortunes  fit, 

Though  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day. 

Lear.    True,  my  good  boy.  —  Come,  bring  us  to  this 
hovel.  \_Exeicnt  Lear  arid  Kent. 

*FooI.  This  is  a  brave  night  to  cool  a  courtezan.  I'll 
*speak  a  prophecy  ere  I  go  : 

*When  priests  are  more  in  word  than  matter ; 

*VVhen  brewers  mar  their  malt  with  water ; 

*When  nobles  are  their  tailors'  tutors  ; 

*No  heretics  burn'd,  but  wenches'  suitors ; 

*When  every  case  in  law  is  right ; 

*No  squire  in  debt,  nor  no  poor  knight ; 

*When  slanders  do  not  live  in  tongues  ; 

*Nor  cutpurses^*^  come  not  to  throngs  ; 

*When  usurers  tell  ^^  their  gold  i'  the  field  ; 

*And  bawds  and  whores  do  churches  build ; 

*Then  shall  the  realm  of  Albion 

*Come  to  great  confi:sion  : 

*Then  comes  the  time,  who  lives  to  see't, 

*That  going  shall  be  used  with  feet. 
*This  prophecy  Merlin  shall  make  j-*^  for  I  live  before  his  time. 

\_Exit. 

18  Cutpurses  were  the  same  as  what  we  c-aW  pickpockets. 

1^  To  tell,  again,  in  the  old  sense  of  to  count.     See  page  66,  note  9. 

"•^  Merhn  was  a  famous  prophet  in  the  Druidical  mythology  of  ancient 
Britain,  who  did  divers  wonderful  things  "by  his  deep  science  and  Hell- 
dreaded  might."  Some  of  his  marvels  are  sung  in  The  Faerie  Queene,  iii. 
2,  18-21.  Part  of  his  prophecy,  which  the  Fool  here  anticipates,  is  given  in 
Puttenhara's  Art  of  Poetry,  1589. 


SCENE  III.  KING    LEAR.  85 

Scene  III.  —  A  Room  in  Gl055TEr's  Castle. 
Enter  Glo.ster  and  L^D.MUND. 

Glos.  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  their  perpetual  displeasure,  neither  to  speak  of 
him,  entreat  for  him,  nor  any  way  sustain  him. 

Edin.    Most  savage  and  unnatural  ! 

Glos.  Go  to  ;  say  you  nothing.  There  is  division  between 
the  dukes  ;  and  a  worse  matter  than  that :  I  have  received 
a  letter  this  night ;  'tis  dangerous  to  be  spoken  :  I  have 
lock'd  the  letter  in  my  closet.  These  injuries  the  King  now 
bears  will  be  revenged  home  ;  ^  there  is  part  of  a  power 
already  footed  :  we  must  incline  to  the  King.  I  will  seek  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.  Though  I  die  for  it,  as  no 
less  is  threaten 'd  me,  the  King  my  old  master  must  be  re- 
lieved. There  is  some  strange  thing  toward,  I^dmund  ;  pray 
you,  be  careful.  [/s.v//. 

Edni.    This  courtesy,  forbid  thee  !-  shall  the  duke 
Instantly  know  ;  and  of  that  letter  too. 
This  seems  a  fair  deserving,  and  nuist  draw  me 

1  Here,  as  often,  liome  ha.s  the  sense  of  tlioroughly.  to  tlie  utmoit.  So, 
again,  in  the  next  scene  :  "  But  I  will  punish  homey  Sec,  also,  vol.  vii.  page 
154,  note  38. 

2  "/-hrbicUhcc"  I  take  to  mean  "./  lursc-  ii[>oii  ttiee,"  or  like  our  phrase, 
"Confound  you."  So  in  Macbetli,  i.  3,  we  have  "  He  shall  live  a  man  for- 
bid"; that  is,  shall  live  uitder  a  curse  or  an  interdict ;  pursueil  by  an  evil  fate. 
Mr.  Crosby,  however,  takes  forbid  in  the  sense  merely  oi  forbidden,  and  as 
agreeing  with  courtesy.  In  this  case,  the  reference  of  course  would  be  to  the 
aid  and  comfort  which  Gloster  resolves  to  give  the  old  King,  notwithstand- 
ing the  threats  of  Cornwall  and  Regan.  It  may  be  so:  but  does  not  this 
make  the  sense  too  tame  ? 


86  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

That  which  my  father  loses,  —  no  less  than  all : 

The  younger  rises  when  the  old  doth  fall.  \_Exit. 

Scene  IV.  —  The  Hcatli,  near  a  Hovel.     Storm  cojitinues. 
Enter  Lear,  Kent,  and  the  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. 

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. 

Lear.    Thou  think'st  'tis  much  that  this  contentious  storm 
Invades  us  to  the  skin  :  so  'tis  to  thee  ; 
But  where  the  greater  malqdy  is  fix'd, 
The  lesser  is  scarce  felt.     Thou'dst  shun  a  bear ; 
But,  if  thy  flight  lay  toward  the  roaring  sea, 
Thou'dst  meet  the  bear  i'  the  mouth.     When  the  mind's  free, 
The  body's  delicate  :  the  tempest  in  my  mind 
Doth  from  my  senses  take  all  feeling  else 
Save  what  beats  there.     Filial  ingratitude  ! 
Is  it  not  as  this  mouth  should  tear  this  hand 
For  lifting  food  to't?     But  I  will  punish  home. 
No,  I  will  weep  no  more.     In  such  a  night 

3  O,  what  a  world's  convention  of  agonies  is  here !  All  external  Nature 
in  a  st^rm,  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!  Take 
it  but  as  a  picture  for  the  eye  only,  it  is  more  terrific  than  any  which  a 
Michael  Angcio,  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.  —  Coleridge. 


SCENE    IV. 


KING    LEAK.  87 


To  shul  mc  out  !  —  Pour  on  ;   I  will  endure  ;  — 
In  such  a  night  as  this  !     O  Regan,  (loneril  ! 
Your  oUl  kind  father,  whose  frank  heart  gave  all,  — 
O,  that  way  madness  lies  ;  let  me  shun  that ; 
No  more  of  that. 

Kent.  Good  my  lord,  enter  here. 

Lear.     Pr'ythee,  go  in  thyself;  seek  thine  own  ease  : 
This  tempest  will  not  give  me  leave  to  ponder 
On  things  would  hurt  me  more.     But  I'll  go  in.  — 
In,  boy;  go  first.  — You  houseless  poverty, — 
Nay,  get  thee  in.     I'll  pray,  and  then  I'll  sleep.  — 

\^The  Fool^^^i'  in. 
Poor  naked  wretches,  wheresoe'er  you  are, 
That  bide  the  pelting  of  this  pitiless  storm, 
How  shall  your  houseless  heads  and  unfed  sides, 
Your  loop'd  and  window'd  "*  raggedness,  defend  you 
From  seasons  such  as  these  ?     O,  I  have  ta'en 
Too  little  care  of  this  !     Take  physic,  pomj) ; 
F.xpose  thyself  to  feel  what  wretches  feel. 
That  thou  mayst  shake  the  superflux  to  them, 
.\nd  show  the  Heavens  more  just. 

Ed^.  lIVMin.']  Fathom  and  half,  fathom  and  half! 
Poor  Tom  !  \^T/ie  Fool  runs  out  from  the  lioi^el. 

Fool.  Come  not  in  here,  nunclc,  here's  a  spirit.  1  lelp  me, 
help  me  ! 

Kent.    Give  me  thy  hand.  —  ^Vho's  there? 

Fool.    .\  spirit,  a  spirit  !  he  says  his  name's  poor  Tom. 

Kent.  What  art  thou  that  dost  grumble  there  i'  the  straw? 
Come  forth. 

Enter  Eixiau  (lisi:;uiseil  as  a  madman. 

••  Loop' J  M\d -window  d\s,in\\nt  hfll,-^  nni\  apotitrcs.  Tin;  allusion  is  to 
loop-holes,  such  as  arc  found  in  ancient  castles,  and  designed  for  the  ad- 
mission of  light  and  air. 


88  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Edg.    Away  !  the  foul  fiend  follows  me  !  ^ 

Through  the  sliarp  hawthorn  Idoios  the  cold  wind. 

Hum  !  go  to  thy  cold  bed,  and  warm  tliee.^ 

Lear.  Didst  thou  give  all  to  thy  daughters  ?  And  art  thou 
come  to  this? 

Edg.  Who  gives  any  thing  to  poor  Tom  ?  whom  the  foul 
fiend  hath  led  through  fire  and  through  flame,  through  ford 
and  whirlpool,  over  bog  and  quagmire ; '''  that  hath  laid 
knives  under  his  pillow,  and  halters  in  his  pew ;  set  ratsbane 
by  his  porridge  ;^  made  him  proud  of  heart,  to  ride  on  a  bay 
trotting-horse  over  four-inch'd  bridges,  to  course  his  own 
shadow  for  a  traitor.  Bless  thy  five  wits  !  ^  Tom's  a-cold. 
O,  do  de,  do  de,  do  de.i°  Bless  thee  from  whirlwinds,  star- 
blasting,  and  taking  !^i     Do  poor  Tom  some  charity,  whom 


5  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  Edgar's 
ravings  Shakespeare  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.  —  COLERIDGE. 

6  This  appears  to  have  been  a  sort  of  proverbial  phrase.  Shakespeare 
has  it  again  in  T/ie  Taming  of  the  Shrew.  Staunton  quotes,  from  The  Span- 
ish Tragedy,  ""Whai  outcries  pluck  me  from  my  naked  bed?"  and  says, 
"  The  phrase  to  go  to  a  cold  bed  meant  only  to  ^f  cold  to  bed  ;  to  rise  from  a 
naked  bed  signified  Xo  get  up  naked  from  bed." 

'  Alluding  to  the  ignis  fatuus,  supposed  to  be  lights  kindled  by  mis- 
chievous beings  to  lead  travellers  into  destruction. 

8  Fiends  were  commonly  represented  as  thus  tempting  the  wretched  to 
suicide.  So  in  Doctor  Faustus,  1604:  "Swords,  poisons,  halters,  and  en- 
venomed steel  are  laid  before  me,  to  dispatch  myself." 

^  The  five  senses  were  sometimes  called  the  five  wits.  And  the  mental 
powers,  being  supposed  to  correspond  in  number  to  the  senses,  were  called 
\hsfive  wits  also.     The  reference  here  is,  probably,  to  the  latter. 

1"  These  syllables  are  probably  meant  to  represent  the  chattering  of  one 
who  shivers  with  cold. 

11  To  take  is  to  strike  with  malignant  influence.  So  in  ii.  4  of  this  play: 
"  Strike  her  young  bones,  you  taking  airs,  with  lameness !  " 


SCENE  IV.  KING    I. EAR.  89 

the  foul  fiend  vexes.      There   could  I  have  him  now,  and 

there,  and  there  again,  and  there.  \_S(orm  continues. 

Lear.    What,    have    his    daughters    brought    him    to    this 

pass? — 
Couldst  thou  save  notliing?     Didst  thou  give  'em  all? 

Fool.  Nay,  he  reserved  a  blanket,  else  we  had  been  all 
shamed. 

Lea7\    Now,  all  the  plagues  that  in  the  pendulous  air 
Hang  fated  o'er  men's  faults  light  on  thy  daughters  ! 

Kent.    He  hath  no  daughters,  sir. 

Lear.    Death,  traitor  !  nothing  could  have  subdued  nature 
To  such  a  lowness  but  his  unkind  daughters. 
Is  it  the  fashion,  that  discarded  fathers 
Should  have  thus  little  mercy  on  their  flesh  ? 
Judicious  punishment  !   'twas  this  flesh  begot 
Those  pelican  daughters.'- 

Edg.  Pillicock  sat  on  Pillicock-hill :  '^ 

Halloo,  halloo,  loo,  loo  ! 

Fool.    This  cold  night  will  turn  us  all  to  fools  and  madmen. 

7?c/;^  Take  heed  o'  the  foul  fiend  :  obey  thy  parents  ;  keep 
thy  word  justly  ;  swear  not ;  commit  not  with  man's  sworn 
spouse  ;  set  not  thy  sweet  heart  on  i)roud  array.  Tom's 
a-cold. 

Lear.    \Miat  hast  thou  been  ? 

Edg.  .\  serving-man,  proud  in  heart  and  mind  ;  that 
curl'd  my  hair  ;  wore  gloves  in  my  cap  ;  '^  served  the  lust  of 

12  The  young  pelican  is  fablcil  to  suck  tlic  mother's  blood.  The  allusions 
to  this  fable  arc  very  numerous  in  old  writers. 

'3  In  illustration  of  this,  Mr.  Ilalliwell  has  pointed  out  tlie  following 
couplet  in  Gammer  Gurton's  Garland: 

Pillycock,  Pillycock  s.it  on  a  liill  ; 
If  he's  not  gone,  he  sils  there  still. 

H  Gloves  wen;  anciently  worn  in  the  cajj,  either  as  the  favour  of  a  mis- 
tress, or  as  the  memorial  of  a  friend,  or  as  a  badge  to  be  challenged. 


90  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

my  mistress'  heart,  and  did  the  act  of  darkness  with  her ; 
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  ;  and  in 
woman  out-paramour' d  the  Turk  :  false  of  heart,  light  of  ear,i^ 
bloody  of  hand ;  hog  in  sloth,  fox  in  stealth,  wolf  in  greedi- 
ness, dog  in  madness,  lion  in  prey.  Let  not  the  creaking  of 
shoes  nor  the  rustling  of  silks  betray  thy  jioor  heart  to  woman  : 
keep  thy  foot  out  of  brothels,  thy  hand  out  of  plackets, ^^  thy 
pen  from  lenders'  books,  and  defy  the  foul  fiend. 

Still  through  the  hawthorn  blows  the  cold  wind ; 

Says  suum,  mun,  ha,  no,  nomiy  : 

Dolphin  my  boy,  boy,  sessa  !  let  him  trot  by.^~ 

[Storm  still. 
Lear.  Why,  thou  wert  better  in  thy  gra\'e  than  to  an- 
swer with  thy  uncover'd  body  this  extremity  of  the  skies. 
Is  man  no  more  than  this?  Consider  him  well.  Thou 
owest  the  worm  no  silk,  the  beast  no  hide,  the  sheep  no 
wool,  the  cat  no  perfume.  Ha  !  here's  three  on's  are  sophis- 
ticated !  i'^    Thou  art  the  thing  itself:  unaccommodated  man 

15  Light  of  ear  means  "  sinning  with  the  ear  "  ;  that  is,  greedy  or  credu- 
lous of  slanders  and  malicious  reports,  or  of  obscene  talk. 

16  Upon  this  troublesome  word  Mr.  Grant  White  comments  as  follows: 
"  It  is  clear  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!'     See  vol.  vii.  page  221,  note  34. 

1"  Much  effort  has  been  made  to  explain  this  strain  of  jargon ;  but  it 
probably  was  not  meant  to  be  understood,  its  sense  lying  in  its  having  no 
sense.  And  Edgar's  counterfeit  seems  to  proceed  in  pai  t  by  stringing  to- 
gether ouds  and  ends  of  old  ballads,  without  connection  or  intelligible  pur- 
pose. Sessa  is  elsewhere  used  by  the  Poet  for  cease  or  be  quiet.  Dolphin  is 
the  old  form  of  Dauphin ;  and  "  Dolphin  my  boy,  my  boy,  cease,  let  him 
trot  by  "  is  the  burden  of  a  ridiculous  old  song. 

18  Meaning  himself,  Kent,  and  the  Fool ;  and  they  three  are  sophisticated 
out  of  nature  in  wearing  clothes,  llierefore,  to  become  unsophisticated,  he 
will  off  with  his  "  lendings,"  and  be  as  Edgar  is. 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  9I 

is  no  more  but  such  a  poor,  bare,  forked  animal  as  thou  art. 
—  Off,  off,  you  lendings  !  come,  unbutton  here. 

[  Tearing  off  his  clothes. 

Fool.    Pr'ythee,  nuncle,  be  contented  ;  'tis  a  naughty  night 

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  fiend  Flibbertigibbet :  ^^  he  begins 
at  curfew,  and  walks  till  the  first  cock ;  he  gives  the  web  and 
the  pin,-**  squints  the  eye,  and  makes  the  hare-lip  ;  mildews 
the  white  wheat,  and  hurts  the  poor  creature  of  Earth. 
Saint  Withold footed  th7-ice  the  \dd ; 
He  met  the  night-mare  and  her  nine-fold ; 
Bid  her  alight,  and  her  troth  plight -^ 
And,  aroint  thee,  witch,  aroint  thee  !  ~~ 
Kent.    How  fares  your  (Irace? 

Enter  Gloster  7iiith  a  torch. 
Lear.    What's  he  ? 

i'-"  The  names  of  this  fiend  and  most  of  the  fiends  mentioned  by  Edgar 
were  found  in  liarsnet's  book.  It  was  an  old  tradition  that  spirits  were 
relieved  from  confinement  at  the  time  of  curfew,  that  is,  at  the  close  of 
the  day,  and  were  permitted  to  wander  at  large  till  the  first  cock-crowing. 
Hence,  in  The  Tempest,  they  are  said  to  "  rejoice  to  hear  the  solemn  curfew." 

20  "The  weVj  and  the  pin"  is  thus  explained  in  Florio's  Dictionary  : 
"  Cataratta,  —  a  dininesse  of  sight  occasioned  by  humores  hardned  in  the 
eies,  called  a  Cataract,  or  a  pin  and  a  web."  Also  in  Cotgraves  Diction- 
ary :  "  Taye,  —  any  filme,  or  thinne  skinne,  &c. ;  and  hence  a  |)in  or  web  in 
th'  eye,  a  white  filme  overgrowing  the  eye." 

-1  Who  Saint  Withold  was  is  uncertain.  —  IVo/d  is  a  plain  open  coun- 
try, whether  hilly  or  not;  formerly  spelt  old,ould,  and  wold,  indifferently. 
Nine-fold  is  put  for  nine  foals,  to  rhyme  with  luold.  The  troth-plight  here 
referred  to  was  meant  as  a  charm  against  the  night-mare. 

--  There  is  some  diversity  of  opinion  as  to  the  origin  and  meaning  of 
aroint.  In  Macbeth,  i.  3,  ".Xrnint  thee,  witch,"  seems  to  be  used  as  a  charm 
against  witchcraft;  and  the  angry  thriMlenings  uf  the  Witch  at  having  it 
pronounced  to  her  look  as  if  she  had  been  baffled  by  it.  So  that  the  more 
likely  meaning  seems  t<j  be,  stand  off  ^ix  I'c gonf. 


92  KING    LEAK.  ACT  ill. 

Kent.    Who's  there  ?     What  is't  you  seek  ? 

Glos.    What  are  you  there  ?     Your  names  ? 

Edg.  Poor  Tom  \  that  eats  the  swimming  frog,  the  toad, 
the  tadpole,  the  wall-newt  and  the  water  j^^  -{^^^  j^i  the  fury 
of  his  heart,  when  tlie  foul-  fiend  rages,  eats  cow-dung  for 
sallets ;  swallows  the  old  rat  and  the  ditch-dog ;  drinks  the 
green  mantle  of  the  standing  pool ;  who  is  whipp'd  from 
tithing  to  tithing,  and  stock-punish'd,  and  imprison'd  ;-^  who 
hath  had  three  suits  to  liis  back,  six  shirts  to  his  body,  horse 
to  ride,  and  weapon  to  wear  ; 

But  mice  and  rats,  and  such  smalt  deer, 
Have  t>een.  Tom's  food  for  seven  long  year.^^ 

Beware  my  follower.  —  Peace,  Smulkin  ;  peace,  thou  fiend  ! 
Glos.    What,  hath  your  grace  no  better  company? 

Edg.      The  prince  of  darkness  is  a  gentleman  ; 
Mode  he's  calVd,  and  Mahu?^ 

Glos.    Our  flesh  and  blood,  my  lord,  is  grown  so  vile, 

23  The  wall-newt  and  the  water-newt ;  small  lizards. 

24  "  From  tything  to  tything  "  is  from  parish  to  parish.  The  severities 
inflicted  on  the  wretched  beings,  one  of  whom  Edgar  is  here  personating, 
are  set  forth  in  Harrison's  Description  of  England :  "The  rogue  being  ap- 
prehended, committed  to  prison,  and  tried  at  the  next  assizes,  if  he  be  con- 
victed for  a  vagabond,  he  is  then  adjudged  to  be  grievously  whipped,  and 
burned  through  the  gristle  of  the  right  ear  with  a  hot  iron,  as  a  manifesta- 
tion of  his  wicked  life,  and  due  punishinent  received  for  the  same." 

■-5  This  couplet  is  founded  on  one  in  the  old  metrical  romance  of  Sir 
Bevis,  who  was  confined  seven  years  in  a  dimgeon  : 

Rattes  and  myce  and  such  smal  dere 
Was  his  meate  that  seven  yere. 

28  So  in  Harsnet's  Declaration  ;  " Maho  was  the  chief  devil  that  had  pos- 
session of  Sarah  Williams;  but  another  of  the  possessed,  named  Richard 
Mainy,  was  molested  by  a  still  more  considerable  fiend,  called  Afodii." 
Again  the  said  Richard  Mainy  deposes  :  "  Furthermore  it  is  pretended, 
that  there  remaineth  still  in  mee  the  prince  of  devils,  whose  name  should 
be  Modu."  —  The  two  lines  conclude  a  catch  in  The  Goblins,  a  piece  ascribed 
to  Sir  John  Suckling. 


KING    LEAR. 


93 


That  it  doth  hate  what  gets  it.-" 

E(^.   Poor  Tom's  a-cold. 

Glos.    Go  in  with  me  :  my  duty  cannot  suffer 
T'  obey  in  all  your  daughters'  hard  commands  : 
Though  their  injunction  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. 

Lear.    First  let  me  talk  with  this  philosopher.  — 
What  is  the  cause  of  thunder? 

Kent.    Good  my  lord,  take  his  offer ;  go  into  the  house. 

Lear.    I'll  talk  a  word  with  this  same  learned  Theban. — 
What  is  your  study  ? 

Edi^.    How  to  prevent  the  fiend,  and  to  kill  vermin. 

Lear.    Let  me  ask  you  one  word  in  private. 

Kent.    Imp6rtune  him  once  more  to  go,  my  lord ; 
His  wits  begin  t'  unsettle. 

Glos.  Canst  thou  blame  him? 

His  daughters  seek  his  death.     .Ah,  that  good  Kent ! 
He  said  it  would  be  thus,  poor  banish'd  man  ! 
Thou  say'st  the  King  grows  mad  ;_  I'll  tell  thee,  friend, 
I'm  almost  mad  myself.     I  had  a  son. 
Now  outlaw'd  from  my  blood  ;  he  sought  my  life. 
But  lately,  very  late  :   I  loved  him,  friend, 
No  father  his  son  dearer  :  true  to  tell  thee,  {Stonn  continues. 
The  grief  hath  crazed  my  wits.     What  a  night's  this  !  — 
I  do  beseech  your  Grace,  — 

Lear.  O,  cry  you  mercy,-"^  sir.  — 

Noble  philosopher,  your  company. 

Edi^.    Tom's  a-cold. 

2'  Glosfer  here  alludes  to  his  son  Edgar,  as  well  as  to  Lear's  daughters; 
and  liiis  makes  Edgar  the  more  anxious  for  his  disguise,  lest  liis  feelings 
should  mar  his  counterfeiting.     Hence  he  exclaims,  "  Poor  Tom's  a-cold." 

2b  "  I  cry  you  mercy  "  is  an  old  phrase  for  "  I  ask  your  pardon. " 


94  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Glos.  In,  fellow,  there,  into  the  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. 

Glos.  Take  him  you  on. 

Kent.  Sirrah,  come  on  ;  go  along  with  us. 

Lea/-.  Come,  good  Athenian. 

Glos.  No  words,  no  words  :  hush. 

Edg.  Child  Roland  to  the  dark  toiver  came  ; 
LLis  word  was  still,  Fie,  f oh,  andftim., 
L  smell  the  blood  of  a  British  man-'^         [Exeunt. 

Scene  V.  —  A  Room  in  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Cornwall  and  Edmund. 

Corn.    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. 

Corn.  I  now  perceive,  it  was  not  altogether  your  brother's 
evil  disposition  made  him  seek  his  death  ;  but  a  provoking 
merit,  set  a-work  by  a  reproval)le  l)a<hiess  in  himself.^ 

2-'  Child  Roland,  that  is,  Knight  Orlando,  was  reputed  to  be  the  youngest 
son  of  King  Arthur.  Edgar,  it  seems,  purposely  disjoints  his  quotations,  or 
leaves  their  sense  incomplete.  In  the  ballad  oljack  and  the  Giants,  which, 
if  not  older  than  the  play,  may  have  been  compiled  from  something  that  was 
so,  a  giant  lets  off  this  : 

Fee,  faw,  fum, 

I  smell  the  blood  of  an  Englishman: 

Be  he  alive,  or  be  he  dead, 

I'll  grind  his  bones  to  make  my  bread. 

1  By  a  "  provoking  merit  "  Cornwall  means,  apparently,  a  virtue  apt  to  be 
provoked,  or  stirred  into  act ;  which  virtue  was  set  to  work  by  some  flagrant 
evil  in  Gloster  himself;  and  it  was  this,  and  not  altogether  a  bad  disposition 


SCENK  V.  KING    LEAR.  95 

Edm.  How  malicious  is  my  fortune,  that  I  must  repent 
to  be  just  !  -  This  is  the  letter  he  spoke  of,  wliich  approves 
him  an  intelligent  party  to  the  advantages  of  France.  O 
Heavens  !  that  this  treason  were  not,  or  not  I  the  detector  ! 

Corn.    Go  with  me  to  the  duchess. 

Edm.  If  the  matter  of  this  paper  be  certain,  you  ha\c 
mighty  business  in  hand.-^ 

Corn.  True  or  false,  it  hath  made  thee  Earl  of  Gloster. 
Seek  out  where  thy  father  is,  that  he  may  be  ready  for  our 
apprehension. 

Eihn.  \_Aside.']  If  I  find  him  comforting  the  King,  it  will 
stuff  his  suspicion  more  fully. —  \_To  Corn.]  I-will  persevere 
in  my  course  of  loyalty,  though  the  conflict  be  sore  between 
that  and  my  blood. 

Corn.  I  will  lay  trust  upon  thee  ;  and  thou  shalt  find  a 
dearer  father  in  my  love.  \_E.xfiinf. 

in  Edgar,  that  made  Edgar  seek  the  old  man's  life.  Provoking  for  pro- 
vocable ;  the  active  form  with  the  passive  sense.  The  Poet  has  a  great  many 
instances  of  such  usage.  Mr.  Crosby,  however,  gives  me  a  different  inter- 
pretation ;  taking  tnt-rit  in  the  neutral  sense  of  desert,  as  the  word  is  some- 
times so  used.  "  It  was  not  altogether  your  brother  Edgar's  evil  disposition 
that  made  him  seek  his  father's  death  :  it  was  the  old  man's  desert  that  pro- 
voked him  to  it ;  that  is,  the  old  man  deserved  it."  Cornwall  then  attempts 
to  soften  his  remark  by  saying  that  this  "  provoking  merit"  was  set  at  work 
by  a  reprovablc  badness  in  Edgar  himself;  using  the  mild  term  reprovabic 
in  connection  with  the  unfilial  badness  of  a  son  in  seeking  his  father's  deatli. 
even  though  the  father  deserved  it. 

-  "  To  (^tf  just"  is  another  instance  of  the  infinitive  used  gerundively,  and 
is  equivalent  to  of  being  ]\x'=,\.     See  page  68,  note  i6. 

8  The  "  mighty  business  in  hand  "  is  a  war ;  as  the  "  paper  "  in  question 
is  a  letter  informing  Gloster  that  an  army  had  landed  from  France. 


96  KING    LEAR. 


Scene  VI.  —  A  Chai7tber  in  a  Farmhouse  adjoiimig  Glos- 
ter's  Castle. 

Elite?-  Gloster,  Lear,  Kent,  tJie  Fool,  and  Edgar. 

Glos.  Here  is  better  than  the  open  air ;  take  it  thankfully. 
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  ! 

\^Exit  Gloster. 

Edg.  Frateretto  calls  me,  and  tells  me  Nero  is  an  angler 
in  the  lake  of  darkness.  —  Pray,  innocent,^  and  beware  the 
foul  fiend. 

Fool.  Pr'ythee,  nuncle,  tell  me  whether  a  madman  be  a 
gentleman  or  a  yeoman  ? 

Lear.    A  king,  a  king  ! 

Fool.  No,  he's  a  yeoman  that  has  a  gentleman  to  his  -son  ; 
for  he's  a  mad  yeoman  that  sees  his  son  a  gentleman  before 
him.2 

Lear.   To  have  a  thousand  with  red  burning  spits 
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.  — 
\To  Edgar.]   Come,  sit  thou  here,  most  learned  justicer  ;  ^  — 

1  Rabelais  says  Ihat  Nero  was  a  fiddler  in  Hell,  and  Trajan  an  angler. 
The  history  of  Gargantua  appeared  in  English  before  1575.  Fools  were 
anciently  termed  innocents. 

2  A  rather  curious  commentary  on  some  of  the  Poet's  own  doings ;  who 
obtained  from  the  Heralds'  College  a  coat-of-arms  in  his  father's  name; 
thus  getting  his  yeoman  father  dubbed  a  gentleman,  in  order,  no  doubt, 
that  himself  might  inherit  the  rank. 

3  Justicer  is  the  older  and  better  word  for  what  we  now  call  a  justice. 


SCENE  VI.  KING    LEAR.  97 

\_To  the  Fool.]    Thou,  sapient  sir,  sit  here.  —  Now,  you  she 
foxes  !  — 
Edg.    Look,  where  he  stands  and  glares  !  —  Wantest  thou 
eyes  at  trial,  madam?'* 

Come  o'er  the  bourn,  Bessy,  to  me. 

Fool.  Uer  boat  hath  a  leak, 

And  she  must  not  speak 
Why  she  dares  ?iot  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 
herring.  —  Croak  not,  black  angel ;  I  have  no  food  for  thee. 

Kent.    How  do  you,  sir?     Stand  you  not  so  amazed  : 
Will  you  lie  down  and  rest  upon  the  cushions  ? 

Lear.   I'll  see  their  trial  first.  — Bring  in  the  evidence.  — 
\_To  Edgar.]    Thou  robed  man  of  justice,  take  thy  place  ;  — 
\_7o  the  Fool.]    And  thou,  his  yoke-fellow  of  equity. 
Bench  by  his  side. —  \_To  Kent.]    You  are  o'    the   com- 
mission. 
Sit  you  too. 

Edg.    Let  us  deal  justly. 

Steepest  or  wakest  thou,  Jolly  shepherd? 
Thy  sheep  be  in  the  corn  ; 

*  When  Edgar  says,  "  Look,  where  he  stands  and  glares !  "  he  seems  to 
be  s[)caking  in  the  character  of  a  madman,  who  thinks  he  sees  the  fiend. 
"  Wantest  thou  eyes  at  trial,  madam  ? "  is  addressed  to  some  visionary 
jjerson  who  is  supposed,  apparently,  to  be  on  trial,  but  does  not  see  the 
S[)ectr';. 

5  Bourn  here  means  a  brook  or  rivulet,  as  streams  of  all  sorts  were  apt 
to  be  taken  for  boundaries.  These  four  lines  are  probably  from  an  olil  song, 
which  was  imitated  by  Birch  in  his  Dialos^ue  between  Elizubelh  unJ  Eng- 
laiiil :  the  imitation  beginning  thus: 

Come  over  the  liourn,  licssy,  come  over  the  Unirii,  I'essy, 

Sweet  Bessy,  come  over  to  me  ; 
And  I  sh.iU  ihee  Like,  :«n(l  my  ile.ir  lajy  make 

IJcfore  all  tliat  ever  I  sec. 


98  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

And  for  one  blast  of  thy  minikin  ^  motith 
Thv  sheep  shall  take  no  harm. 

Pur  !  the  cat  is  gray." 

Lear.  Arraign  her  first ;  'tis  Goneril.  I  here  take  my 
oath  before  this  honourable  assembly,  she  kick'd  the  poor 
King  her  father. 

Fool.    Come  hither,  mistress.     Is  your  name  Goneril? 

Lear.    She  cannot  deny  it. 

Fool.    Cry  you  mercy,  I  took  you  for  a  joint-stool.^ 

Lear.    And  here's  another,  whose  warp'd  looks  proclaim 
What  store  her  heart  is  made  on.  —  Stop  her  there  ! 
Arms,  arms,  sword,  fire  !     Corruption  in  the  place  ! 
False  justicer,  why  hast  thou  let  her  'scape  ?  ^ 

Edg.    Bless  thy  five  wits  ! 

Kent.    O  pity  !  —  Sir,  where  is  the  patience  now 
That  you  so  oft  have  boasted  to  retain  ? 

Fdg.    \_Aside.~\    My  tears  begin  to  take  his  part  so  much. 
They'll  mar  my  counterfeiting. 

Lear.    The  little  dogs  and  all. 
Tray,  Blanch,  and  Sweetheart,  see,  they  bark  at  me. 

6  Miniki?i  was  a  term  of  fondness  or  endearment.  Baret's  Alvearie  has 
"  neate,  fresh,  pretie,  fine,  minikin,  tricke  and  trimnic." 

"^  The  meaning  of  Pur  is  any  thing  but  obvious.  But  Pitrre  is  the  name 
of  a  devil  in  Harsnet.  So  perhaps  the  name  suggests  the  purring  of  a  cat, 
and  of  a  cat  too  old  to  sing. 

s  This  appears  to  have  been  a  proverbial  expression.  It  occurs  again, 
somewhat  modified,  in  /  King  Henry  I V.,  ii.  4 :  "  Thy  state  is  taken  for  a 
joint-stool."  It  is  also  met  with  in  various  other  old  writings.  It  was  the 
name  ofwhat  we  call  a  folding-chair  ;  a  chair  with  a.  joint  in  it. 

3  It  does  not  seem  probable  that  Shakespeare  wished  to  represent  Lear 
as  the  subject  of  so  extreme  an  hallucination  as  that  his  daughters  were 
present,  in  their  own  figure  and  appearance,  and  that  one  of  them  escaped. 
It  is  more  probable  that  he  wished  to  represent  them,  personified  by  the 
excited  imagination,  in  the  form  of  stools ;  and  that  Kent  or  Edgar,  seeing 
the  bad  effects  which  this  vivid  personification  was  working,  snatched  away 
one  of  the  stools ;  and  this  produces  the  passionate  explosion  on  Regan's 
supposed  escape.  —  Dr.  BuCKNILL. 


SCENK  VI.  KING    LEAR.  99 

Edg.   Tom  will  throw  his  head  at  them.  —  Avaunt,  you 

curs  ! 

Be  thy  mouth  or  black  or  white, 

Tooth  that  poisons  if  it  bite  ; 
Mastiff,  gre\hound,  mongrel  grim, 
Hound  or  spaniel,  brach  or  lym,'*^ 
Or  bobtail  tike,  or  trundle-tail ; 
Tom  will  make  them  weep  and  wail : 
For,  with  throwing  thus  my  head, 
Dogs  leap  the  hatch,  and  all  are  fled. 
Do  de,  de,  de.     Sessa  !     Come,  march  to  wakes  and  fairs 
and  market-towns.  —  Poor  Tom,  thy  horn  is  dry.'^ 

Lear.  Then  let  them  anatomize  Regan ;  see  what  breeds 
about  her  heart.  Is  there  any  cause  in  Nature  that  makes 
these  hard  hearts? —  [7J?  Edgar.]  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  attire  ;  but  let  them 
be  changed. '2 

Kent.    Now,  good  my  lord,  lie  here  and  rest  awhile. 
Lear.    Make  no  noise,  make  no  noise  ;  draw  the  curtains 
So,  so,  so  :  we'll  go  to  sni)i)rr  i'  the  morning  :  so,  so,  so. 
Fool.    And  I'll  go  t(j  bed  at  noon.'^ 

I"  A  lym  or  lyme  was  a  hound ;  sometimes  also  called  a  Ummer  or  learner  ; 
from  the  learn  or  leask,  in  which  lie  was  held  till  he  was  let  slip. 

1'  A  /torn  was  usually  carried  by  every  Tom  of  Bedlam,  to  receive  such 
drink  as  liie  charitable  might  afford  him,  with  whatever  scraps  of  food  they 
might  give  him.     So  Edgar  ijcgs  to  have  his  horn  filled. 

12  I^-ar  is  comparatively  tranquil  in  conduct  and  language  during  the 
whole  period  of  Edgar's  mad  companionship.  It  is  only  after  liic  I-'ool  has 
disappeared, — gone  to  sleep  at  midday,  as  he  says,  —  and  Edgar  has  left, 
to  be  the  guide  of  his  blind  father,  that  the  King  becomes  absolutely  wild 
and  incoherent.  Few  things  tranquillize  the  insane  more  than  tlie  compan- 
ionship of  the  insane.  It  is  a  fact  not  easily  explicable;  but  if  is  one  of 
which,  either  by  the  intuition  of  genius  or  liy  the  information  of  experience, 
Shakespeare  appears  to  have  been  aware. —  Dr.  nucKNil.I.. 

13  These  words  are  the  last  we  hnvf  from  the  Fool.  They  are  probably 
meant  as  a  characteristic  notice  th;it  the  poor  fellow's  heart  is  breaking. 


lOO  KING    LEAK.  ACT  III. 

Re-enter  Gloster. 

Ghs.    Come  hither,  friend  ;  where  is  the  King  my  master? 

Kent.    Here,  sir ;  but  trouble  him  not  ;  his  wits  are  gone. 

Glos.    Good  friend,  I  pr'ythee,  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  towards  Dover,  friend,  where  thou  shalt  meet 
Both  welcome  and  protection.     Take  up  thy  master : 
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 
Give  thee  quick  conduct. 

Kent.  Oppress'd  nature  sleeps. 

This  rest  might  yet  have  balm'd  thy  broken  senses, 
Which,  if  convenience  '"'  will  not  allow. 
Stand  in  hard  cure.'^ —  \_To  the  Fool.]    Come,  help  to  bear 

thy  master ; 
Thou  must  not  stay  behind. 

Glos.  Come,  come,  away. 

\_Exeunt  Kent,  Glosier,  and  the  Fool,  hearing 

off  Lear. 

*Edg.    When  we  our  betters  see  bearing  our  woes, 
*We  scarcely  think  our  miseries  our  foes. 
*Who  alone  suffers  suffers  most  i'  the  mind, 
*Leaving  free  things  and  happy  shows  behind; 
*But  then  the  mind  much  sufferance  doth  o'erskip, 

1''  Couuenience  is  here  meant  as  a  word  of  four  syllables,  and  must  be  so 
in  order  to  fill  up  the  verse.  In  like  manner,  the  Poet  repeatedly  uses  con- 
science and  patience  as  trisyllables.  Generally,  indeed,  in  Shakespeare's  time, 
the  ending  -ience  was  used  by  the  poets  as  two  syllables  or  as  one,  according 
to  the  occasion  of  their  verse. 

IS  That  is,  can  hardly  be  cured.  Similarly  a  httle  before :  "  Stand  in 
assured  loss."  And  a  like  phrase  occurs  in  Othello,  \\.\\  "Therefore  my 
hopes,  not  suffocate  to  death,  stand  in  bold  cure." 


SCENE  vit.  KING    LEAR.  lOI 

*VVhen  grief  hath  mates,  and  bearing  fellowship. 

*Ho\v  light  and  portable  my  pain  seenis  now, 

*\Vhen  that  which  makes  mc  bend  makes  the  King  bow ; 

*He  childed  as  I  father'd  !     Tom,  away  ! 

*Mark  the  high  noises  ;  i^  and  thyself  bewray, 

*When  false  opinion,  whose  wrong  thought  defiles  thee, 

*In  thy  just  proof  repeals  and  reconciles  thee. 

*\Vhat  will  hap  more  to-night,'^  safe  'scape  the  King  ! 

*Lurk,  lurk.  {^Exit. 

Scene  VII.  —  A  Room  in  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  Goneril,  Edmund,  and  Servants. 

Corn.  Post  speedily  to  my  lord  your  husband  ;  show  him 
this  letter:  the  army  of  France  is  landed. — Seek  out  the 
traitor  Gloster.  \_Exeunt  some  of  the  Servants. 

Reg.    Hang  him  instantly. 

Gon.    Pluck  out  his  eyes. 

Corn.  Leave  him  to  my  displeasure.  —  Edmund,  keep  you 
our  sister  company  :  the  revenges  we  are  bound  to  take  upon 
your  traitorous  father  are  not  fit  for  your  beholding.  Advise 
the  duke,  where  you  are  going,  to  a  most  festinate  '  prepa- 
ration :  we  are  bound  to  the  like.  Our  posts  shall  be  swift 
and  intelligent  betwixt  us.  —  Farewell,  dear  sister;  —  farewell, 
my  Lord  of  Gloster.^  — 

Enter  Oswald. 

How  now  !  wherc's  the  King? 

'C  The  great  events  that  are  at  hand  ;  tlie  exciting  sounds  of  war. 

•''  The  meaning  is,  "  Whatsoever  else  may  happen  to-night." 

>  Festinate  is  sheedy.  Not  used  again  by  the  Poet,  though  lie  lias  festi- 
nately  in  the  same  S('nse. 

-  Meaning  Ivlmund,  who  is  now  invested  with  his  father's  titles.  Oswald, 
speaking  immediately  after,  refers  to  the  father  by  (In-  sani<!  title. 


102  KING   LEAR.  act  hi. 

Osw.    My  Lord  of  Gloster  hath  convey'd  him  hence. 
Some  five  or  six  and  thirty  of  his  l^nights, 
Hot  questrists  ^  after  him,  met  him  at  gate ; 
Who,  with  some  other  of  the  lord's  dependants,^ 
Are  gone  with  him  towards  Dover,  where  they  boast 
To  have  well-armed  friends. 

Corn.  Get  horses  for  your  mistress. 

Gon.    Farewell,  sweet  lord,  and  sister. 

Corn.    Edmund,  farewell.  — 

\_Exi'unf  GoNERiL,  Edmund,  and  Oswald. 
Go  seek  the  traitor  Gloster, 
Pinion  him  like  a  thief,  bring  him  before  us. — 

\_Excunt  other  Servants. 
Though  well  we  may  not  pass  -^  upon  his  life 
Without  the  form  of  justice,  yet  our  power 
Shall  do  a  curtsy  to  our  wrath,''  which  men 
May  blame,  but  not  control.  —  Who's  there?  the  traitor? 

Re-enter  Servants  with  Gloster. 

Reg.    Ingrateful  fox  !  'tis  he. 
Corn.    Bind  fast  his  corky'''  arms. 

Glos.  What  mean  your  Graces  ?  Good  my  friends,  consider 
You  are  my  guests  :  do  me  no  foul  play,  friends. 

Corn,    r^ind  him,  I  say.  [Servants /'///(^/ Z'/w. 

Reg.  Hard,  hard.  —  O  filthy  traitor  ! 

Glos.    Unmerciful  lady  as  you  are,  I'm  none. 
Corn.    To  this  chair  bind  him.  —  Villain,  thou  shalt  find  — 

[Regan ////r/'jT  his  beard. 

3  Questrists  {ox  pursuers  ;  those  who  go  in  quest  oItim'j  thing. 

^  These  arc  probably  lords  dependent  on  the  Earl  of  Gloster.  I  formerly 
thought  them  to  be  some  of  the  King's  proper  retinue ;  but  Mr.  Furness 
gives  such  reasons  for  thinking  otherwise,  that  I  gladly  stand  corrected. 

''  That  is,  pass  sentence  ox  judgment.     To  pass  was  often  used  thus. 

s  Shall  bend  to  our  wrath ;  wait  upon  it  or  be  its  servant. 

'  Corky  means  dry,  withered,  or  shrivelled  with  age. 


SCENE  VII.  KING    LKAR.  IO3 

Glos.    By  the  kind  gods,  'tis  most  ignobly  done 
To  pluck  me  by  the  beard. 

Reg.    So  white,  and  such  a  traitor  ! 

Glos.  Naughty  lady, 

These  hairs,  which  thou  dost  ravish  from  my  chin, 
Will  quicken,*^  and  accuse  thee.     I'm  your  host : 
With  robbers'  hands  my  hospitable  favours  ^ 
You  should  not  ruffle  thus.     \\'hat  will  you  do? 

Corn.    Come,  sir,  what  letters  had  you  late  from  France  ? 

Reg.    Be  simple-answer'd,  for  we  know  the  truth. 

Corn.    And  what  confederacy  have  you  with  the  traitors 
Late  footed  in  the  kingdom  ? 

Reg.    lo  whose  hands  have  you  sent  the  lunatic  King? 
Speak. 

Glos.    I  have  a  letter  guessingly  set  down. 
Which  came  from  one  that's  of  a  neutral  heart, 
And  not  from  one  opposed. 

Corn.  Cunning. 

Reg.  And  false. 

Corn.    Where  hast  thou  sent  the  King? 

Glos.  To  Dover. 

Reg.  Wherefore  to  Dover  ?  Wast  thou  not  charged  at  peril— 

Corn.    Wherefore  to  Dover? — Let  him  answer  that. 

Glos.    I'm  tied  to  th'  stake,  and  I  must  stand  the  course.'" 

Reg.    Wherefore  to  Dover? 

Glos.    Because  I  would  not  see  thy  cruel  nails 
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 
In  hell-black  night  endured,  would  have  buoy'd  up, 

"  That  is,  will  become  alive,  or  a^uime  life.      Tlii:  old  sense  oi quick. 
'•*  Here,  as  ohun, /avoi/rs  is /r-a/ures. 

'"  An  allusion  to  hoar-baiting,  where  th<.-  ciisloin  was  to  chain  a  bear  to  a 
post,  and  tlien  set  the  dogs  on  him.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  88,  note  10. 


I04  KING    LEAR.  ACT  ill. 

And  quench'd  the  stelled  fires  :  'i  yet,  poor  old  heart, 

He  holp  the  heavens  to  rain. 

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 

The  winged  vengeance  overtake  such  children.^- 

Corn.  See't  shalt  thou  never.  —  Fellows,  hold  the  chair  !  — 
Upon  these  eyes  of  thine  I'll  set  my  foot. 

Glos.    He  that  will  think  to  live  till  he  be  old, 
Give  me  some  help  !  —  O  cruel !  O  you  gods  ! 

Reg.    One  side  will  mock  another  ;  th'  other  too. 

Corn.    If  you  see  vengeance, — 

I  Serv.  Hold  your  hand,  my  lord  ! 

I've  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  ! 

I  Serv.    If  you  did  wear  a  beard  upon  your  chin, 
I'd  shake  it  on  this  quarrel.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

Corn.    My  villain  !  \_Drmvs. 

I  Serv.    Nay,  then,  come  on,  and    take    the    chance    of 

anger.     \^Drcnvs.    They  fight.    Cornwall  is  wounded. 

II  "The  stelled  fires"  are  the  starry  lights;  stella  being  the  Latin  for 
star.  —  Heath  says,  "  The  verb  buoy  up  is  here  used  as  a  verb  deponent,  or 
as  the  middle  form  of  the  Greek  verbs,  to  signify  buoy  or  lift  itself  up!' 

12  Cruels,  probably,  for  cruelties,  or  acts  of  cruelty  ;  subscribe  an  impera- 
ative  verb,  with  cruels  for  its  object ;  and  but  with  the  force  of  if  not,  like  the 
Latin  nisi.  So  that  the  meaning  probably  is,  "  Subscribe  thou,  that  is,  un- 
derwrite, guarantee,  make  good,  all  other  deeds  or  instances  of  cruelty,  if  I 
do  not  see,"  &c.  In  other  words,  "  If  swift  retribution  be  not  seen  to  catch 
you  for  what  you  have  done,  then  do  not  scruple  to  go  security,  to  stand 
sponsor  for  all  possible  strains  of  inhumanity."  The  Poet  has  many  words 
shortened  in  like  manner ;  as  dispose  for  disposition,  suspects  for  suspicions, 
characts  for  characters,  &c.  He  also  has  many  instances  of  but  used  in  that 
way.  So  in  Othello,  iii.  3:  "  Perdition  catch  my  soul,  but  I  do  love  theel" 
See,  also,  vol.  iii.  page  153,  note  19. 


SCENE  vil.  KING    LKAR.  IO5 

Reg.    Give  me  thy  sword.  —  A  peasant  stand  up  thus  ! 

\^Scizes  a  sword,  and  runs  at  him  behind. 

I  Serv.  O,  I  am  slain  !  —  My  lord,  you  have  one  eye  left 
To  see  some  mischief  on  him.  —  O  !  S^Dies. 

Corn.    Lest  it  see  more,  prevent  it.  —  Out,  vile  jelly  ! 
Where  is  thy  lustre  now  ?  ^^ 

Glos.    All  dark  and  comfortless.     Where's  my   son    Ed- 
mund ?  — 
Edmund,  enkindle  all  the  sparks  of  nature 
To  quit  '"^  this  horrid  act ! 

Reg.  Out,  treacherous  villain  ! 

Thou  call'st  on  him  that  hates  thee  :   it  was  he 
That  made  the  ov'erture  ^'^  of  thy  treasons  to  us  ; 
Who  is  too  good  to  pity  thee. 

Glos.  O  my  follies  ! 

Then  Edgar  was  abused.  — 
Kind  gods,  forgive  me  that,  and  prosper  him  ! 

Reg.    Go  thrust  him  out  at  gates,  and  let  him  smell 
His  way  to  Dover. —  How  is't,  my  lord?  how  look  you? 

Corn.    I  have  received  a  hurt :   follow  me,  lady. — 
Turn  out  that  eyeless  villain  ;  throw  this  slave 
Upon  the  dunghill.  — Regan,  I  bleed  apace; 

13  The  shocking  savagery  here  displayed  is  commented  on  by  Coleridge 
thus:  "  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  dramatic."  And  again:  "  Wliat  shall  I  say  of  this  scene?  There  is 
my  reluctance  to  think  .Shakespeare  wrong,  and  yet  —  "  Professor  Dowdcn 
remarks  as  follows  :  "  The  treachery  of  Edmund,  and  the  torture  to  which 
Glostcr  is  subjected,  are  out  of  the  course  of  famili.ir  experience;  Ijut  they 
are  commonplace  and  prosaic  in  comparison  with  the  inhumanity  of  the 
sisters,  and  the  agony  of  Ix-ar.  When  we  have  climbed  the  steep  ascent  of 
Glostcr's  mount  of  passion,  wc  see  still  above  us  another  via  dolorosa  lead- 
ing to  that  '  wall  of  eagle-baffling  mountain,  black,  wintry,  dead,  unmeas- 
ured,' to  which  Lear  is  chained.  Thus  the  one  story  of  horror  serves  as  a 
means  of  approach  to  the  other,  and  helps  us  to  conceive  its  magnitude," 

!■'  Quit'foT  requite  is  very  frequent  in  Shakespeare. 

1*  Overture,  here,  is  revealmeiit  or  disclosure. 


I06  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV, 

Untimely  comes  this  hurt :  give  me  your  arm. 

\_Exit  Cornwall,  kd  by  Regan.  —  Some  of  the  Ser- 
vants unbitid  GhOSiKR,  atid  lead  him  otit. 
2  SeriK    I'll  never  care  what  wickedness  I  do, 
If  this  man  come  to  good. 

J  Serv.  If  she  live  long. 

And  in  the  end  meet  the  old  course  of  death. 
Women  will  all  turn  monsters.'*' 

2  Serv.    Let's  follow  the  old  earl,  and  get  the  Bedlam 
To  lead  him  where  he  would  :   his  roguish  madness 
Allows  itself  to  any  thing. 
J  Serv.    Go  thou :    I'll    fetch    some    flax    and    whites    of 
eggs 
T'  apply  to  his  bleeding  face.     Now,  Heaven  help  him  ! 

\_Exeunt  severally. 


ACT   IV. 

Scene  I. —  The  Heath. 
Enter  Edgar. 


Edg.    Yet  better  thus,  unknown,  to  be  contemn'd, 
Than  still  contemn'd  and  flatter'd.     To  be  worst, 

10  The  Poet  might  have  justified  the  act  by  the  supposed  barbarity  of  the 
legendary  age  whose  manners  he  was  tracing,  and  urged  that  their  familiarity 
with  such  acts  prevented  the  actors  in  them  from  recognizing  the  horrible. 
No  such  .ning.  By  inserting  in  the  group  a  servant  who  did  recognize  its 
intrinsic  horror,  and  compassionated  the  sufferer,  he  converted  disgust  into 
pity.  The  valiant  menial  revenges  on  the  spot  the  wrong  done  to  humanity. 
The  other  servants  also  compassionate  the  blind  old  man,  to  lead  him  out, 
to  help  him,  to  heal  his  wounds,  and  to  place  him  in  safe  custody.  The  en- 
tire current  of  feeling  is  turned  in  the  direction  of  pity  by  the  force  of  sym- 
pathy. Thus  the  horror  in  the  '  horrid  act '  is  mitigated,  and  reduced  to  the 
level  of  terror.  —  Heraud. 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAR.  IO7 

The  lowest  and  most  dejected  thing  of  fortune,^ 

Stands  still  in  esperance.-  lives  not  in  fear  : 

The  lamentable  change  is  from  the  best ; 

The  worst  returns  to  laughter.^     Welcome,  then, 

Thou  unsubstantial  air  that  I  embrace  ! 

The  wretch  that  thou  hast  blown  unto  the  worst 

Owes  nothing  to  thy  l)lasts.'      l!ut  who  comes  here? 

Enter  Gloster,  led  by  an  Old  Man. 

My  father,  poorly  led?  —  World,  wodd,  O  world  ! 
But  that  thy  strange  mutations  make  us  hate  thee, 
Life  would  not  yield  to  age.^ 

Old  Man.  O,  my  good  lord, 

I've  been  your  tenant,  and  your  father's  tenant, 
These  fourscore  years. 

Glos.    Away,  get  thee  away  ;  good  friend,  be  gone  : 
Thy  comforts  can  do  me  no  good  at  all ; 
Thee  they  may  hurt. 

Old  Alan.  You  cannot  see  your  way. 

Glos.    I  have  no  way,  and  therefore  want  no  eyes  : 
I  stumbled  when  I  saw.      l"'ull  oft  'tis  seen, 
Our  maims  secure  us,  and  uur  mere  ^  defects 
Prove  our  commodities.  — O  dear  son  Edgar, 

1  "  Dcjcctc-d  tiling  of  fortune  "  is  thing  cast  down  by  fortune. 

■■2  Esperance  is  hope  ;  from  ttic  French.     Used  repeateiily  by  the  Poet. 

3  Because,  when  the  worst  has  come,  there  can  be  no  further  change  but 
for  the  better.     Laughter  is  an  instance  of  the  effect  put  for  the  cause. 

^  "  Is  not  indebted  to  thy  blasts  for  any  favour  showti  him  :  they  liave 
done  their  worst  upon  him,  and  so  absolved  him  from  all  obligations." 

^  The  meaning  seems  to  be.  "  Did  not  thy  calamitous  reverses  make  life 
a  burden,  old  age  would  never  be  reconciled  or  resigned  to  death." 

•'  Shakespeare  repeatedly  has  very  in  the  sense  of  mere  :  here  he  has 
mere  in  the  sense  of  very.  —  Maim  was  often  used  for  any  <lefect,  bicmisli, 
or  iniperfi.-ction,  whether  "in  mind,  body,  or  estate."  So  I  looker, /'.VtV^/- 
astical  Polity.  Mook  V.,  Sect.  65  :  "  If  men  of  so  good  experience  and  insight 
in  the  maims  of  our  weak  flesh,  have  thought,"  &c.  Also,  Sect.  24:  '  In  a 
ministi-r  ignorance  ami  disabiliiv  to  te.-ich  is  a  maim." 


I08  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

The  food  of  thy  abused''  father's  wrath  ! 
Might  I  but  Hve  to  see  thee  in  my  touch, 
I'd  say  I  had  eyes  again  ! 

Old  Man.  How  now  !     Who's  there? 

Edg.    \_Aside.'\    O  gods  !     Who  is't  can  say,  F m  at  the 
worst  ? 
I'm  worse  than  e'er  I  was. 

Oli  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  Ma7i.    Fellow,  where  goest  ? 

Glos.  Is  it  a  beggar-man  ? 

Old  Man.    Madman  and  beggar  too. 

Glos.    He  has  some  reason,  else  he  could  not  beg. 
r  the  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've  heard  more  since. 
As  flies  to  wanton  boys,  are  we  to  th'  gods ; 
They  kill  us  for  their  sport. 

Edg.   S^AsidcP^  How  should  this  be? 

Bad  is  the  trade  that  must  play  Fool  to  sorrow, 
Angering  itself  and  others.  ^"^  —  Bless  thee,  master  ! 

■^  Abused  for  deceived  or  deluded.     A  frequent  usage. 

**  Because  we  must  still  be  living,  else  we  could  not  speak.  Edgar  at  first 
thinks  his  condition  already  as  bad  as  it  can  be :  then  the  sight  of  his  eye- 
less father  adds  a  further  woe  ;  and  now  he  concludes  death  to  be  the  worst. 

^  This  remembrance  without  recognition  is  a  delectable  touch  of  nature. 
Shakespeare  has  the  same  thing  in  several  other  cases ;  particularly  the  dis- 
guised Rosalind  in  the  Forest  of  Arden,  and  the  disguised  Imogen,  in  Cytn- 
beline,  v.  5.     See  vol.  vii.  page  254,  note  16. 

1"  Angering  in  the  sense  oi  grieving ;  a  common  use  of  anger  in  the 
Poet's  time.  The  word  is  doubtless  from  the  same  root,  and  has  the  same 
radical  sense,  as  the  Latin  angere.  "Angaria"  says  Richardson,  "  in  Mid- 
Latin,  was  used  for  any  vexation,  trouble,  distress,  or  anxiety  of  mind.  So 
anger,  in  our  old  writers,  was  applied  to  any  vexation,  or  distress,  or  uneasi- 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAR.  IO9 

Glos.    Is  that  the  naked  fellow? 

Old  Man.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Glos.    Then,  pr'ythee,  get  thee  gone  :  if,  for  my  sake, 
Thou  wilt  o'ertake  us,  hence  a  mile  or  twain, 
r  the  way  toward  Dover,  do  it  for  ancient  love  ; 
And  bring  some  covering  for  this  naked  soul, 
Which  I'll  entreat  to  lead  me. 

Old  Mati.  Alack,  sir,  he  is  mad. 

Glos.    '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.  \_Exif. 

Glos.    Sirrah,  naked  fellow,  — 

Edg.    Poor  Tom's  a-cold.  —  \_Aside.']   I  cannot  daub  '-  it 
further. 

Glos.    —  Come  hither,  fellow. 

Edg.    [_Asid€.'\    And  yet  I  must.  —  Bless  thy  sweet  eyes, 
they  bleed. 

Glos.    Know'st  thou  the  way  to  Dover? 

Edg.  Both  stile  and  gate,  horse-way  and  foot-path.  Poor 
Tom  hath  been  scared  out  of  his  good  wits.  Bless  tiiee, 
good  man's  son,  from  the  itnil  HlmkI  !  I'ive  fiends  have  been 
in  poor  Tom  at  once  ;  as  Obidicut,  of  lust ;  Hobbididencc, 
prince  of  dumbness  ;  Mahu,  of  stealing  ;  Modo,  of  murder  ; 

ness  of  mind  or  body."  See,  also,  vol.  xi.  p.ngc  192,  note  2.  —  "  I'laying  the 
Fool  to  sorrow  "  means,  apparently,  acting  the  Fool's  part,  to  divert  off  dis- 
tressing thoughts,  or  to  turn  grief  into  laughter  ;  which  may  well  be  painful 
to  both  parlies.  Any  attempt  to  cheer  the  despondent  by  forced  or  affected 
mirth  is  apt  to  have  the  opposite  effect. 

1'  This  is  said  because  Glostcr  is  anxious  for  the  old  man's  safety. 

'-  To  daub  was  sometimes  used  for  to  disguise.  So  in  King  Richard 
III.,  iii.  S :  ','So  smooth  he  daub' d  his  vice  with  show  of  virtue."  And  in 
like  sort  t'le  Poet  has  daubery  for  imposture. 


I  lO  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Stiberdigebit,  of  mopping  and  mowing,  who  since  possesses 
chambermaids  and  waitingwomen.^-^     So,  bless  thee,  master  ! 

Glos.    Here,  take  this   purse,  thou   whom  the   Heaven's 
plagues 
Have  humbled  to  all  strokes  :  that  I  am  wretched 
Makes  thee  the  happier.  — ■  Heavens,  deal  so  still ! 
Let  the  superfluous  '^^  and  lust-dieted  man, 
That  slaves  your  ordinance,'^  that  will  not  see 
Because  he  doth  not  feel,  feel  your  power  quickly  ; 
So  distribution  should  undo  excess. 
And  each  man  have  enough.  —  Dost  thou  know  Dover  ? 

Edg.    Ay,  master. 

Glos.    There  is  a  cliff,  whose  high  and  bending  head 
Looks  fearfully  in  the  confined  deep  : 
Bring  me  but  to  the  very  brim  of  it, 
And  I'll  repair  the  misery  thou  dost  bear 
With  something  rich  about  me  :  from  that  place 
I  shall  no  leading  need. 

Edg.  Give  me  thy  arm  : 

Poor  Tom  shall  lead  thee.  \_Exeunt. 

13  "  If  she  have  a  Httle  helpe  of  the  mother,  epilepsie,  or  cramp,  to  teach 
her  roll  her  eyes,  wrie  her  mouth,  gnash  her  teeth,  starte  with  her  body, 
hold  her  armes  and  handes  stiffe,  make  antike  faces,  grinne,  mow  and  mop 
like  an  ape,  then  no  doubt  the  young  girle  is  owle-blasted,  and  possessed." 
So  says  Harsnet.  —  To  mop  is  to  mock,  to  chatter  ;  to  mow  is  to  make  mouths, 
to  grmace. 

14  Superfluous,  here,  probably  means  over-clothed.  Gloster  is  thinking 
of  those  who  live  but  to  eat  and  drink,  and  to  wear  clothes  and  look  fine; 
thus  inverting  the  just  order  of  things. 

15  To  slave  an  ordinance  is  to  make  it  subject  to  our  pleasure,  to  be-slave 
it,  instead  of  obeying  it  as  law.  So  Middleton,  in  The  Roaring  Girl :  "  For- 
tune, who  slaves  men,  was  my  slave." 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR.  ITI 

Scene  II.  —  Before  the  Duke  </ Albany's  Palace. 

Enter  Goneril  and  1']di\iund. 

Gon.    Welcome,  my  lord  : '  I  marvel  our  mild  husband 
Not  met  us  on  the  way.  — 

Enter  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  Gloster's  treachery, 
And  of  the  loyal  service  of  his  son, 
When  I  inform'd  him,  then  he  call'd  me  sot, 
And  told  me  I  had  turn'd  the  wrong  side  out. 
What  most  he  should  dishke  seems  pleasant  to  him ;  , 
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  \vrongs 
Which  tie  him  to  an  answer.-     Our  wishes  on  the  way 
May  prove  effects.^     Back,  Edmund,  to  my  brother  ; 
Hasten  his  musters  and  conduct  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're  like  to  hear. 

1  This  is  in  proper  sequel  to  the  opening  of  the  last  scene  of  Act  iii. : 
where  Cornwall  sends  Edmund  to  escort  Goneril  home.  Sho  is  now  sweetly 
welcoming  her  escort  lo  her  palace,  and  inviting  him  to  "walk  in." 

2  The  meaning  is,  that  Albany,  in  his  cowardice,  ignores  such  wrongs 
and  insults  as  a  man  of  spirit  would  energetically  resent ;  thus  skulking  from 
danger  under  a  feigned  insensibility. 

8  Those  wishes  of  course  were,  that  her  ladyship  w<tc  a  widow,  or  at 
least  free  of  marriage  bonds.     She  meditates  killing  l)er  husband. 


112  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

If  you  dare  venture  in  your  own  behalf, 

A  mistress's  command.     Wear  this  ;  spare  speech ; 

\_Giving  a  favour. 
Decline  your  head  :  "*  this  kiss,  if  it  durst  speak. 
Would  stretch  thy  spirits  up  into  the  air. 
Conceive,  and  fare  thee  well. 

Edm.   Yours  in  the  ranks  of  death. 

Gon.  My  most  dear  Gloster  ! 

\_Exit  Edmund. 
O,  the  difference  of  man  and  man  !     To  thee 
A  woman's  services  are  due  :  my  fool 
Usurps  my  body. 

Osw.  Madam,  here  comes  my  lord.  \_Exit. 

Enter  Albany. 

Gon.    I  have  been  worth  the  whistle.^ 

Alb.  O  Goneril ! 

You  are  not  worth  the  dust  which  the  rude  wind 

Blows  in  your  face.     I  fear  your  disposition  : 

That  nature  which  contemns  its  origin 

Cannot  be  border'd  certain  in  itself ;  ^ 

She  that  herself  will  sliver  and  disbranch 

From  her  material  sap,  perforce  must  wither, 

And  come  to  deadly  use.''' 

^  She  bids  him  dedine  his  head,  that  she  may  give  him  a  kiss,  and  yet 
make  Oswald  believe  she  is  whispering  to  him.  Professor  Dovvden  justly 
observes  that,  "  to  complete  the  horror  they  produce  in  us,  these  monsters 
are  amorous.     Their  love  is  even  more  hideous  than  their  hate." 

5  Alluding  to  the  proverb,  "  It  is  a  poor  dog  that  is  not  worth  the  whis- 
tling." Goneril  thinks  that  her  husband,  knowing  of  her  coming,  ought  to 
have  sallied  forth,  with  a  retinue,  to  give  her  a  grand  "  welcome  home." 

6  The  meaning  is,  that  the  person  who  has  reached  such  a  pitch  of  un- 
naturalness  as  to  scorn  his  parents,  and  trample  on  their  infirmities,  cannot 
be  restrained  within  any  certain  bounds :  there  is  nothing  too  bad  for  him 
to  do.     If  Goneril  will  kill  her  father,  whom  will  she  not  kill  ? 

'  "  Alluding,"  says  Warburton,  "  to  the  use  that  witches  and  enchanters 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAK.  II3 

Go/!.    No  more  ;  the  text  is  foolish. 

A/b.    Wisdom  and  goodness  to  the  vile  seem  vile  : 
Filths  savour  but  themselves.^     What  have  you  done? 
Tigers,  not  daughters,  what  have  you  perform'd  ? 
A  father,  and  a  gracious  aged  man, 
Whose  reverence  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  ! 
If  that  the  Heavens  do  not  their  visible  spirits 
Send  quickly  down  to  tame  these  vile  offences, 
It  will  come. 

Humanity  aiust  perforce  prey  on  itself. 
Like  monsters  of  the  deep.^" 

Gon.  Milk-liver'd  man  ! 

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? 
France  spreads  his  banners  in  our  noiseless  land. 
With  plumed  helm  thy  state  begins  to  threat; 


are  said  to  make  of  withered  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  Edmund  against  her  husband's 
life."  —  "  Come  to  deadly  use  "  is,  be  put  to  fatal  or  destructive  use,  as  being 
good  only  for  the  Devil  to  make  an  instrument  of.  —  "  Material  sap"  is  the 
sap  that  supplies  the  matter  of  life,  the  food. 

?  That  is,  filths  have  a  taste  for  nothing  but  filth,  nothing  but  what  is  like 
themselves.     "  Birds  of  a  feather  flock  together." 

0  "Ilead-luifif'd  bear"  probably  means  a  bear  made  savage  by  having  his 
head  plucked  or  torn. 

1"  If  the  gods  do  not  avenge  these  crimes,  the  crimes  will  avenge  them- 
selves by  turning  men  into  devourers  of  one  another,  or  by  inspiring  hu- 
manity with  a  rage  of  self-destruction.  A  profound  truth,  and  as  awful  as,  it 
is  profound  I  often  exemplified,  too,  in  human  history. 


1  14  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Whilst  thou,  a  moral  fool,"  sitt'st  still,  and  criest 
Alack,  why  does  he  so  ? 

Alb.  See  thyself,  devil ! 

Proper  deformity  shows  not  in  the  fiend 
So  horrid  as  in  woman. i~ 

Gon.  O  vain  fool  ! 

Alb.   Thou  changed  and  sex-cover'd  thing,  for  shame, 
Be-monster  not  thy  feature  !  ^^     Were't  my  fitness 
To  let  these  hands  obey  my  blood, 
They're  apt  enough  to  dislocate  and  tear 
Thy  flesh  and  bones  :  howe'er  •"*  thou  art  a  fiend, 
A  woman's  shape  doth  shield  thee. 

Gon.    Marry,  your  manhood  now  ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Alb.    What  news  ? 

Mess.    O,  my  good  lord,  the  Duke  of  Cornwall's  dead  ; 

11  By  "a  moral  iooX','  this  intellectual  girl  means  a  moralizing  fool;  one 
who  spins  pious  yarns  about  duty,  and  shirks  the  offices  of  manhood. 

12  The  deformity,  or  depravity,  of  the  fiend  is  proper  to  him,  is  his  own, 
and  in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  his  being,  so  that  the  inside  and  outside 
agree  together;  and  therefore  is  less  horrid  than  when  it  is  covered  with  a 
woman's  shape:  for  to  have  the  shape  of  a  woman  and  the  heart  of  a  fiend, 
or  to  transfuse  the  inside  of  the  one  into  the  outside  of  the  other,  is  in  the 
fullest  sense  unnatural  and  monstrous;  and  she  who  so  translates  her  inner 
self  literally  be-monsters  her  proper  make-up,  her  womanhood. 

13  Cover' d  in  the  sense  of  shielded  or  defended.  So  that  the  meaning  is 
the  same  as  "  howe'er  thou  art  a  fiend,  a  ■woman's  shape  doth  shield  thee." 
— Changed  is  transformed.  Albany  seems  to  regard  his  wife  as  having 
disnatured  her  inner  self  from  what  he  had  seen  or  supposed  her  to  be. — 
Here,  as  in  one  or  two  other  places,  feature  seems  to  have  very  much  the 
sense  of  as  Latin  original, /(z,:^/-^,  and  so  to  stand  for  nature,  make,  selfhood, 
or  constitutive  propriety,  as  set  forth  in  the  preceding  note.  See  vol.  v.  page 
69,  note  2.  As  Goneril  is  well  endowed  with  formal  beauty,  her  moral  de- 
formity, or  her  be-devilled  inside,  only  renders  her  the  more  hideous  to  the 
inward  eye.  —  For  the  matter  of  this  note,  as  also  of  the  preceding,  I  am  in- 
debted to  Mr.  Joseph  Crosby.  —  See  Critical  Notes. 

I''  However  has  here  the  force  of  although.     Often  so. 


SCENE  II.  KING    LEAR.  II5 

Slain  by  his  servant,  going  to  put  out 
The  other  eye  of  (iloster. 

Alb.  Gloster's  eyes  ! 

Mess.    A  ser\'ant  that  he  bred,  thrill'd  with  remorse,^-'' 
Opposed  against  the  act,  bending  his  sword 
To  his  great  master ;  who,  thereat  enraged. 
Flew  on  him,  and  amongst  them  fcU'd  him  dead;^^ 
But  not  without  that  harmful  stroke  which  since 
Hath  pluck'd  him  after. 

Alb.  This  shows  you  are  above, 

You  justicers,  that  these  our  nether  crimes 
So  speedily  can  venge  !  —  But,  O  poor  Gloster  ! 
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  I  like  this  well ; 

But  being  widow,  and  my  Gloster  with  her, 
May  all  the  building  in  my  fancy  pluck 
Upon  my  hateful  life  :  ''^  another  way 
The  news  is  ntjt  so  tart.  —  I'll  read,  and  answer.  \_Exit. 

Alb.    Where  was  his  son  when  they  did  take  his  eyes? 

Mess.    Come  with  my  lady  hither. 

Alb.  He's  not  here. 

Mess.    No,  my  good  lord  ;  I  met  him  back  again. 

1*  Here,  as  usual  in  .Shakespeare,  remorse  is  pity  or  compassion. 

"'  This  may  seem  inconsistent  with  the  matter  as  represented  in  a  former 
scene,  but  it  is  not  really  so ;  for,  though  Regan  thrust  the  servant  with  a 
sword,  a  wound  before  received  from  Cornwall  may  have  caused  his  death. 

1"  Goneril  likes  this  well,  inasmuch  as  she  has  now  but  to  make  away 
with  her  sister  and  her  husband  by  poison,  and  then  the  whole  kingdom 
will  be  hers  to  share  with  Edmund,  whom  she  intends  to  marry :  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  Regan,  being  now  a  widow,  and  having  Edmund  with  her, 
may  win  him  by  holding  out  a  more  practicable  match ;  and  so  the  castle 
which  Goneril  has  built  in  imagination  may  rush  down  upon  her  own  head. 
"  Building  in  my  fancy  "  for  buildiii;,'  i/iiiy  f.mcy. 


ii6 


KING    LEAR. 


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. 

^^^-  Gloster,  I  live 

To  thank  thee  for  the  love  thou  show'dst  the  King, 
And  to  revenge  thine  eyes.  —  Come  hither,  friend  : 
Tell  me  what  more  thou  know'st.  \ Exeunt 

Scene  III.  —  T/ie  Fre?ieh  Camp  near  Dover. 
Enter  Kent  and  a  GenUeman.i 

Kent.    Why  the  King  of  France  is  so  suddenly  gone  back 
know  you  the  reason  ? 

Gent.    Something  he  left  imperfect  in  the  State, 
Which  since  his  coming  forth  is  thought  of;  whicli 
Imports  to  th'  kingdom  so  much  fear  and  danger,  that 
His  personal  return  was  most  required 
And  necessary. 

Kent.    Who  hath  he  left  behind  him  general  ? 

Gent.    The  Marshal  of  France,  Monsieur  La  Far. 

Kent.    Did  your  letters  pierce  the  Queen  to  any  demon- 
stration of  grief? 

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. 

Ken..  O,  then  it  moved  her. 

Gent.    Not  to  a  rage  ;  patience  and  sorrow  strove 
Who  should  express  her  goodliest.     You  have  seen 

1  This  is  the  same  Gentleman  whom  in  a  previous  scene  Kent  dispatched 
to  Dover,  with  letters  for  Cordelia.     See  page  78,  note  3. 


SCENE  III.  KING    LEAR.  II/ 

Sunshine  and  rain  at  once  ;  her  smiles  and  tears 
Were  hkc  :   a  better  way,-  —  those  happy  smilets 
That  play'd  on  her  ripe  hp  seem'd  not  to  know 
What  guests  were  in  her  e)es ;  which  parted  thence 
.\s  pearls  from  diamonds  dropp'd.     In  brief,  sir,  sorrow 
Would  be  a  rarity  most  beloved,  if  all 
Could  so  become  it. 

Kent.  Made  she  no  verbal  question?-' 

Getit.    Faith,  once  or  twice  she  heaved  the  name  o{ father 
Pantingly  forth,  as  if  it  press'd  her  heart ; 
Cried,  Sisters  !  sisters  I     Shame  of  ladies  !  sisters  .' 
Kent!  father  !  sisters  !      What  /'  the  storm  ?  /'  the  night? 
Let  pity  not  believe  it  1     There  she  shook 
The  holy  water  from  her  heavenly  eyes  ; 
And,  clamour-moisten'd,^  then  away  she  started 
To  deal  with  grief  alone. 

Kent.  It  is  the  stars, 

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? 

Gent.    No. 

Kent.    Was  this  before  the  King  return'd? 

Gent.  No,  since. 

Kent.    Well,  sir,  the  poor  distressed  Lear's  i'  the  town  ; 

2  That  is,  her  smiles  and  tears  were  like  sunshine  and  rain  at  once;  the 
sense  being  completed  at  like.  He  then  proceeds  to  say  the  same  thing 
again,  in  what  he  regards  as  "  a  better  way."  —  Smilets  is  a  diminutive  of 
smiles  :  semi-smiles  is  nearly  the  force  of  it. 

8  Question  for  expression  or  utterance.  It  is  often  mot  with  in  the  kindred 
sense  oi  talk  or  conversation.     Sec  vol.  v.  page  112,  note  26. 

*  An  odd  and  not  very  liappy  expression  ;  but  meaning,  apparently,  that 
she  wept  aloud,  or  that  her  crying  was  drenched  witli  tears. 

<»  Condition,  as  usual,  for  temper  or  disposition.  .As  Cordelia  and  her  sis- 
ters had  the  same  father  and  mother,  Kent  can  only  account  for  the  differ- 
ence in  them  by  the  effects  of "  spherical  predominance."  See  vol.  vii.  page 
148,  note  21. 


Il8  KING    LEAR. 


ACT  IV, 


Who  sometime,  in  his  better  tune,  remembers 
What  we  are  come  about,  and  by  no  means 
Will  yield  to  see  his  daughter. 

Gent.  Why,  good  sir? 

Kent.    A  sovereign  shame  so  elbows  him  :  "^  his  own  un- 
kindness. 
That  stripp'd  her  from  his  benediction,  turn'tl  her 
To  foreign  casualties,  gave  her  dear  rights 
To  his  dog-hearted  daughters,  —  these  things  sting 
His  mind  so  venomously,  that  burning  shame 
Detains  liim  from  Cordelia. 

Ge)it.  Alack,  poor  gentleman  ! 

Kent.    Of  Albany's  and  Cornwall's  powers  you  heard  not? 

Gent.    'Tis  so,  they  are  a-foot. 

Kent.    Well,  sir,  I'll  bring  you  to  our  master  Lear, 
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. 

Scene  IV.  —  Tlie  Same.     A  Tent. 

Enter  Cordelia,  a  Doctor,  and  Soldiers. 

Cord.    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. 
With  burdocks,  hemlock,  nettles,  cuckoo-flowers, 
Darnel,  and  all  tlie  idle  weeds  that  grow 
In  our  sustaining  corn.^  —  A  century  send  forth  ; 

6  There  has  been  some  strange  stumbling  at  this  innocent  expression.  I 
take  the  meaning  to  be,  a. predominant  shame  so  di^s  him  in  the  side.  And 
why  not  such  a  metaphor,  to  express  the  action  of  shame  ? 

1  Called  sustaining,  probably  because  it  sustains   or  feeds   us,  and   so 


SCENE  IV.  KING    LEAR.  I  I9 

Search  every  acre  in  the  high-grown  field, 

Anil  bring  liim  to  our  eye.    \_Exit  an  Officer.]  —  What  can 

man's  wisdom 
In  the  restoring  his  bereaved  sense  ? 
He  that  helps  him  take  all  my  outward  worth. 

Doct.    There  is  means,  madam  : 
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. 

Cord.  All  bless'd  secrets. 

All  you  unpublish'd  virtues  of  the  Earth, 
Spring  with  my  tears  !   be  aidant  and  remediate 
In  the  good  man's  distress  !  —  Seek,  seek  for  him ; 
Lest  his  ungovern'd  rage  dissolve  the  life 
That  wants  the  means  to  lead  it. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  News,  madam  ; 

The  British  powers  are  marching  hitherward. 

Cord.    'Tis  known  before  ;  our  preparation  stands 
In  expectation  of  them.  —  *0  dear  father, 
*It  is  thy  business  that  I  go  about ; 
♦Therefore  great  France 
*My  mourning  and  important^  tears  hath  pitied. 


makes  an  apt  antithesis  to  idle  weeds,  —  idle  as  being  useless.  —  A  century  is, 
properly,  a  troop  of  a  hundred  men.  Hence  tlie  commander  of  such  a 
troop  was  called  a  centurion. 

2  Simples  properly  meant  medicinal  herbs,  but  was  used  for  medicines  in 
general.  —  Upon  this  remarkable  passage  Dr.  A.  O.  Kellogg  comments  as 
follows  :  "  This  reply  is  significant,  and  worthy  of  careful  attention,  as  em- 
bracing a  brief  summary  of  almost  the  only  true  principles  recognized  by 
modern  science, and  now  carried  out  by  the  most  eminent  i)liysicians  in  the 
treatment  if  the  insane." 

8  Important  for  importunate.     See  vol.  iv.  page  173,  note  4. 


I20  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

*No  blown  ^  ambition  doth  our  arms  incite, 

*But  love,  dear  love,  and  our  aged  father's  right  : 

*Soon  may  I  hear  and  see  him  !  S^Exeunt. 

Scene  V.  —  A  Room  in  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Regan  and  Oswald. 

Reg.    But  are  my  brother's  powers  set  forth  ? 

Osiv.  Ay,  madam. 

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  ? 

Osw.    No,  madam. 

Reg.    What  might  import  my  sister's  letter  to  him  ? 

Osiv.    I  know  not,  lady. 

Reg.    Faith,  he  is  posted  hence  on  serious  matter. 
It  was  great  ignorance,  Gloster's  eyes  being  out, 
To  let  him  live  :  where  he  arrives  he  moves 
All  hearts  against  us.     Edmund,  I  think,  is  gone. 
In  pity  of  his  misery,  to  dispatch 
His  nighted  life  ;  moreover,  to  descry 
The  strength  o'  the  enemy. 

Os7ii.    I  must  needs  after  him,  madam,  with  my  letter. 

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, 
Something  —  I  know  not  what :   I'll  love  thee  much  ; 
Let  me  unseal  the  letter. 

*  Blown,  here,  is  swollen,  inflated,  puffed.     See  vol.  v.  page  i8i,  note  8. 


SCENE  VI.  KING    LEAR.  121 

Osru.  Madam,  I  had  rather  — 

Reg.    I  know  your  lady  does  not  love  her  husband  : 
I'm  sure  of  that :  and  at  her  late  being  here 
She  gave  strange  oeilliads  ^  and  most  speaking  looks 
To  noble  Edmnnd.     I  know  you're  of  her  bosom.- 

Osw.    I,  madam? 

Reg.    I  speak  in  understanding  ;  you  are,  I  know't : 
Therefore  I  do  advise  you,  take  this  note  :  ^ 
My  lord  is  dead  ;  Edmund  and  1  have  talk'd  ; 
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.'' 
So,  fare  you  well. 

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  would  show 
What  party  I  do  follow. 

Reg.  Fare  thee  well.  {^Exeunt. 


Scene  VI.  —  The  Country  near  Dover. 

Enter  Gloster,  aiid  Eug.ar  dressed  like  a  Peasant. 

Glos.    When  shall  I  come  to  th'  top  of  that  same  hill  ? 
Edg.    You  do  climb  up  it  now  :   look,  how  we  labour. 

1  Tiye;i;lances.     Cotgrave's  French  Dictionary  :  "  Oeillade  :  An  amorous 
lookc,  affectionate  wink,  wanton  aspect,  or  passionate  cast  of  the  eye." 

2  In  her  confidence  ;  or,  as  we  should  say,  her  bosom  confidant. 

3  "  Take  note,  or  knowledge,  of  this."     See  page  78,  note  3. 
■•  "  You  may  infer  more  than  I  have  told  you." 

'•  Probably  handing  liim  a  ring  or  some  token  for  Edmund. 
'■'  Regan's  cold,  penetrating  virulence  is  well  shown  in  this.    The  plain 
English  of  it  is,  "  Tell  her  to  do  her  worst,  and  help  herself,  if  she  can." 
7  Preferment  lox  promotion  or  advancement.     Repeatedly  so. 


122  KING    LEAR.  ACT  iv. 

Glos.    Methinks  the  ground  is  even. 

Edg.  Horrible  steep. 

Hark,  do  you  hear  the  sea? 

Glos.  No,  truly. 

Edg.    Why,  then  your  other  senses  grow  imperfect 
By  your  eyes'  anguish. 

Glos.  So  may't  be,  indeed  : 

Methinks  thy  voice  is  alter'd,  and  thou  speak'st 
In  better  phrase  and  matter  than  thou  didst. 

Edg.    You're  much  deceived  ;  in  nothing  am  I  changed 
But  in  my  garments. 

Glos.  •    Methinks  you're  better  spoken. 

Edg.    Come  on,  sir ;  here's  the  place  :  stand  still.     How 
fearful 
And  dizzy  'tis  to  cast  one's  eyes  so  low  ! 
The  crows  and  choughs  that  wing  the  midway  air 
Show  scarce  so  gross  as  beetles  :   half  way  down 
Hangs  one  that  gathers  samphire, i  dreadful  trade  ! 
Methinks  he  seems  no  bigger  than  his  head  : 
The  fishermen,  that  walk  upon  the  beach, 
Appear  like  mice  ;  and  yond  tall  anchoring  bark, 
Diminish'd  to  her  cock  ;  -  her  cock,  a  buoy 
Almost  too  small  for  sight :   tlie  murmuring  surge. 
That  on  th'  unnumber'd  -^  idle  pebbles  chafes, 
Cannot  be  heard  so  high.     I'll  look  no  more  ; 
Lest  my  brain  turn,  and  the  deficient  sight 

1  In  Shakespeare's  time  the  cliffs  of  Dover  were  noted  for  the  production 
of  this  plant.  It  is  thus  spoken  of  in  Smith's  History  of  Waterford,  1774: 
"  Samphiie  grows  in  great  plenty  on  most  of  the  sea-cliffs  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."  It  was  made 
into  a  pickle  and  eaten  as  a  relish. 

'-  That  is,  her  cock-boat.     Hence  the  term  cock-swain. 

■■'  Unnumber'd  iox  innumerable  ;  a  frequent  usage  in  old  writers,  and  not 
without  cx:'.mples  now.    See  page  43,  note  34. 


SCENK  Vi.  KING    LEAR.  123 

'ropi)le  clown  headlong. 

Glos.  Set  me  where  you  stand. 

Edg.    Give  me  your  hand.    You're  now  within  a  foot 
Of  th'  extreme  verge  :   for  all  beneath  the  Moon 
Would  I  not  leap  upright."* 

Glos.  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  !     (io  thou  furtlier  off; 
Bid  me  farewell,  and  let  me  hear  thee  going. 

Edg.    Now  fare  you  well,  good  sir. 

Glos.  With  all  my  heart. 

Edg.    \_Asidc.'\    Why  I  do  trillc  thus  with  his  despair 
Is  done  to  cure  it. 

Glos.    \_Knaiing.']    O  you  mighty  gods  ! 
This  world  I  do  renounce,  and,  in  your  sights. 
Shake  patiently  my  great  affliction  off: 
If  I  could  bear  it  longer,  and  not  fall 
To  quarrel  with  your  great  opposeless  wills, 
My  snuff  and  loathed  part  of  nature  should 
burn  itself  out.      If  IMgar  live,  O,  bless  him  !  — 
Now,  fellow,  fare  thee  well. 

Edg.  (Jonc,  sir  :    farewell. — 

[f'.i.osTKR  //ircic's  liiinsclffoncard,  and  falls. 
\_Asidc7\    .\nd  yet  I  know  not  how  conceit  may  rob 
The  treasury  of  life,^  when  life  itself 


■•  Ileatli's  explanation  is  probably  right :  "  This  expression  was  purposely 
intended  to  heighten  the  horror  of  the  description,  and  to  affect  the  reader's 
imagination  the  more  strongly.  The  spot  is  therefore  represented  as  so  ex- 
tremely near  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  that  there  was  the  utmost  hazard  in 
leaping  even  ujjright  upon  it." 

''  Conceit  in  its  old  sense  of  conccf'tion  or  imat^'i nation.  —  JLko  must  here 
be  taken  as  equivalent  to  whether  or  but  that.  So  that  the  meaning  comes 
something  thus  :  "  When  one  is  thus  longing  to  die,  I  d(j  not  know  but  that 
the  mere  im.igination  of  such  a  leap,  or  such  a  fall,  iiii\;ht  be  the  dcitli  <>f 


124  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV 

Yields  to  the  theft.     Had  he  been  where  he  thought, 
By  this  had  thought  been  past.  —  AHve  or  dead  ? 
Ho  you,  sir  !  friend  !     Hear  you,  sir?  speak  !  — 
[Asi'de.^    Thus  might  he  pass  indeed  ;  yet  he  revives.  — 
What  are  you,  sir  ? 

G/os.  Away,  and  let  me  die. 

jEc/g.    Hadst  thou  been  aught  but  gossamer,^  feathers,  air, 
So  many  fathom  down  precipitating, 
Thou'dst  shiver'd  like  an  egg  :  but  thou  dost  breathe  ; 
Hast  heavy  substance  ;  bleed'st  not ;  speak'st  ;  art  sound. 
Ten  masts  at  eacli  "^  make  not  the  altitude 
Which  thou  hast  perpendicularly  fell : 
Thy  life's  a  miracle.     Speak  yet  again. 

G/ffs.    But  have  I  fall'n,  or  no? 

J^i/g.    From  the  dread  summit  of  this  chalky  bourn. 
Look  up  a-height ;  the  shrill-gorged'*  lark  so  far 
Cannot  be  seen  or  heard  :   do  but  look  up. 

Glos.   Alack,  I  have  no  eyes. 
Is  wretchedness  deprived  that  benefit 
To  end  itself  by  death?     'Twas  yet  some  comfort, 
Wlien  misery  could  beguile  the  tyrant's  rage, 
And  frustrate  his  proud  will. 

him."  This  accords  with  what  Edgar  says  a  httle  after :  "  Thus  might  he 
pass  indeed."  So  in  the  Poet's  dedication  of  his  Venus  and  Adonis  to  the 
Earl  of  Southampton :  "  I  know  not  hozu  I  shall  offend  in  dedicating  my 
unpolished  lines  to  your  lordship." 

^  The  substance  called  gossamer  is  formed  of  the  collected  webs  of  spi- 
ders. Some  think  it  the  down  of  plants ;  others  the  vapour  arising  from 
boggy  or  marshy  ground  in  warm  weather.  The  etymon  of  this  word  is 
said  to  be  summer  goose  or  summer  gauze,  hence  "  gauze  o'  the  summer." 

"  A  strange  expression,  but  meaning,  perhaps,  ten  masts  joined  each  to 
the  other,  or  drawn  out  in  length.  This  explanation  may  be  justified  by 
observing  that  each  is  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  eacan,  to  add,  to  augment,  or 
leitgthen.     Eke,  sometimes  spelt  eche,  is  from  the  same  source. 

8  Shrill  is  loud,  as  in  Julius  Caesar,  i.  2 :  "I  hear  a  tongue,  shriller  than 
all  the  music,  cry  Caesar!"  "  "SAwWX-gorged"  is  loud-throated,  or  loud- 
voiced. 


SCENE  VI.  KING    LEAR.  125 

Edg.  Give  me  your  arm  : 

Up  :  so.     How  is't?     Feel  you  your  legs?     You  stand. 

Glos.    Too  well,  too  well. 

Edg.  This  is  above  all  strangeness. 

Upon  the  crown  o'  the  cliff,  what  thing  was  that 
Which  parted  from  you  ? 

Glos.  A  poor  unfortunate  beggar. 

Edg.    As  I  stood  here  below,  methought  his  eyes 
Were  two  full  Moons  ;  he  had  a  thousand  noses, 
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 
Of  men's  impossibilities,  i°  have  preserved  thee. 

Glos.    I  do  remember  now  :  henceforth  I'll  bear 
Affliction  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? 

Enter  'Lv.xK,  fantastically  dressed  7cnth  wild  flowers. 

The  safer  sense  will  ne'er  accommodate 
His  master  thus." 

Lear.  No,  they  cannot  touch  me  for  coining ;  I  am  the 
King  himself :  — 

'•'  M^'-if/^  "i^  is  marked  with  protuberances.  The  whelk  is  a  small  shell- 
fish, so  called,  perhaps,  because  its  shell  is  marked  with  convolved  protub- 
erant ridges.  —  'Die  sea  is  enridged  when  blown  into  waves. 

'^'^  Men's  impossibilities  are  things  that  seem  to  men  impossible. —  The 
incident  of  Glostcr  being  made  to  believe  liimself  ascending,  and  leaping 
from,  the  chalky  cliff  has  always  struck  me  as  a  very  notable  case  of  inherent 
improbability  overcome  in  effect  by  ojiulcnce  of  description. 

'^  J  Us  for  its,  referring  to  sense.  Edgar  is  speaking  of  Lear's  dress,  and 
judges  from  this  that  he  is  not  in  his  safer  sense :  that  is,  in  his  senses. 


126 


KING    LEAR. 


Edg.    S^Asidc.'\    O  thou  side-piercing  sight  ! 

Lear.  —  Nature's  above  art  in  that  respect.  —  There's  your 
press-money.  12  That  fellow  handles  his  bow  like  a  crow- 
keeper  :  13  —  draw  me  a  clothier's  yard.  — -  Look,  look,  a 
mouse  !  Peace,  peace  ;  this  piece  of  toasted  cheese  will 
do't. — There's  my  gauntlet!  I'll  prove  it  on  a  giant. — 
Bring  up  the  brown  bills.  —  O,  well  flown,  bird  !  —  I'  the 
clout,  i'  the  clout  !  hewgh  !  —  Give  the  word.^^ 

Edg.    Sweet  marjoram. 

Lear.   Pass. 

Glos.    I  know  that  voice. 

Lear.  Ha  !  Goneril,  —  with  a  white  beard  !  —  They  flat- 
ter'd  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  ay  and  no  to,  was  no  good  divinity.^-'' 
When  the  rain  came  to  wet  me  once,  and  the  wind  to  make 
me  chatter ;  when  the  thunder  would  not  peace  at  my  bid- 
ding ;  there  I  found  'em,  there  I  smelt  'em  out.     Go  to,  they 

12  Lear,  I  suppose,  here  imagines  himself  a  recruiting  officer,  impressing 
men  into  the  service,  and  paying  them  the  bounty-money. —  The  sense  of 
the  preceding  clause  is,  that  he.  being  a  king  by  nature  or  by  birth,  is  not 
subject  to  legal  or  artificial  control  touching  the  matter  in  question. 

13  A  crow-keeper  is  a  thing  to  keep  the  crows  off  the  corn ;  what  we  call 
^scare-crow;  whicli  was  sometimes  a  figure  of  a  man,  with  a  cross-bow  in 
his  hands. —  "  Draw  me  a  clothier's  yard  "means  draw  me  an  arrow  the 
length  of  a  clothier's  yard;  the  force  of  an  arrow  depending  on  the  length 
it  was  drawn  in  the  bow. 

14  The  old  King  is  here  raving  of  a  challenge,  a  battle,  of  falconry,  and 
archery,  jumbled  together  in  quick  succession.  When  he  says  "  There's  my 
gauntlet,"  he  is  a  champion  throwing  down  his  glove  by  way  of  challenge. 
When  he  says  "  Give  the  word,"  he  is  a  sentinel  on  guard,  demanding  the 
watchwoid  or  countersign.  Brown  bill  is  an  old  term  for  a  kind  oi  battle- 
axe  ;  here  put  for  men  armed  with  that  weapon.  Well  flown,  bird,  was  the 
falconer's  expression  when  the  hawk  made  a  good  flight.  The  clout  is  the 
white  tnark  at  which  archers  aim. 

15  To  tie  our  assent  and  dissent  entirely  to  another,  to  speak  nothing  but 
in  echo  oih\s yes  and  no,  is  the  extreme  of  sycophancy;  and  may  well  bq 
called  "  no  good  divinity." 


SCENE  VI.  KING    LEAR.  12/ 

are  not  men  o'  their  words  :   ihey  told  me  I  was  every  thing ; 
'tis  a  He,  I  am  not  ague-proof. 

G/os.    The  trick  ^'^  of  that  voice  I  do  well  remember : 
Is't  not  the  King  ? 

Lear.  Ay,  every  inch  a  king  : 

When  I  do  stare,  see  how  the  subject  cjuakes  ! 
I  pardon  that  man's  life.  —  What  was  thy  cause  ? 
Adultery  ? 

Thou  shalt  not  die  :  die  for  adultery  !  No  : 
The  wren  goes  to't,  and  the  small  gilded  fly 
Does  lecher  in  my  sight. 

Let  copulation  thrive  ;  for  (iloster's  bastard  son 
Was  kinder  to  his  father  than  my  daughters 
Got  'tween  the  lawful  sheets. 
To't,  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  : 
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,-" 

ifi  Trici  {ox  peculiarity  or  characteristic.     See  vol.  x.  page  9,  note  7. 

1^  The  order,  according  to  the  sense,  is,  "  Whose  face  presages  snow  be- 
tween her  forks."  The  same  thought  is  imaged  with  more  delicacy  in  Timon, 
iv.  3  :  "  Whose  blush  doth  thaw  the  consecrated  snow  that  lies  on  Dian's  lap." 

'**  That  affects  or  puts  on  the  coyness  or  modesty  of  virtue.  Cotgrave 
explains  mineux-se,  "  Outward  seeminj^,  also  squeamish,  quaint,  coy,  that 
minces  it  exceedingly."     See  vol.  xii.  page  208,  note  1. 

19  The  fttchew  is  the  pole-cat.—  .Soiled  is  well  explained  by  Heath  :  "  A 
horse  is  said  to  be  soiled  when,  after  h.aving  been  long  stalled,  he  is  turned 
out  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  Spring,  to  take  the  first  flush  of  the  new  grass, 
which  both  cleanses  him  and  fills  him  with  blood." 

2"  Inhtrit  in  its  old  sense  u( possess.     See  vol.  vii.  page  85,  note  31. 


128  KING    LEAR.  ACT  iv. 

Beneath  is  all  the  fiends' ; 

There's  Hell,  there's  darkness,  there's  the  sulphurous  pit, 
burning,  scalding,  stench,  consumption  ;  fie,  fie,  fie  !  pah, 
pah  !  —  Give  me  an  ounce  of  civet,-i  good  apothecary,  to 
sweeten  my  imagination  :  there's  money  for  thee. 

Glos.    O,  let  me  kiss  that  hand  ! 

Lear.    Let  me  wipe  it  first ;  it  smells  of  mortality. 

Glos.    O  ruin'd  piece  of  nature  !     This  great  world 
Shall  so  wear  out  to  nought.  —  Dost  thou  know  me  ? 

Lear.  I  remember  thine  eyes  well  enough.  Dost  thou 
squiny  at  me  ?  No,  do  thy  worst,  blind  Cupid  ;  I'll  not  love. 
Read  thou  this  challenge  ;  mark  but  the  penning  of  it. 

Glos.    Were  all  the  letters  suns,  I  could  not  see. 

Edg.   [Aside.'l   I  would  not  take  this  from  report :  it  is 
And  my  heart  breaks  at  it. 

Lear.    Read. 

Glos.    What,  with  the  case  of  eyes  ? 

Lear.  O  ho,  are  you  there  with  me?—  No  eyes  in  your 
head,  nor  no  money  in  your  purse?  Your  eyes  are  in  a 
heavy  case,  your  purse  in  a  light :  yet  you  see  how  this  world 
goes. 

Glos.    I  see  it  feelingly. 

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  : 
Change  places ;    and,  handy-dandy,-^  which  is  the  justice, 

21  Civet  is  the  old  name  of  a  musky  perfume;  obtained  from  what  is 
called  the  civet-cat.  So,  in  iii.  4,  Lear  says  to  Edgar.  "  Thou  owest  the 
worm  no  silk,  the  cat  no  perfufiie." 

■--  That  is,  "  is  that  what  you  mean?  "  A  like  instance  occurs  in  As  You 
Like  It,  V.  2:  "  O,  I  know  where  you  are":  where  you  are  for  what  you 
mean.     So,  in  old  language,  to  go  along  with  one  is  to  tmderstand  him. 

23  Handy-dandy  is  an  old  game  of  children ;  one  child  enclosing  some- 
thing in  his  hand,  and  using  a  sort  of  legerdemain,  changing  it  swiftly  from 
hand  to  hand,  and  then  calling  upon  his  playfellow  to  guess  which  hand  it 
is  in  ;  the  latter  to  have  the  thing,  if  he  guesses  right. 


SCENE  VI.  KING    LEAR.  1 29 

which  is  the  thief?     Thou  hast  seen  a  farmer's  dog  bark  at 
a  beggar? 

Glos.    Ay,  sir, 

Lear.  And  the  creature  run  from  the  cur?  There  thou 
mightst  behold  the  great  image  of  authority  :  a  dog's  obey'd 
in  office. — 

Thou  rascal  beadle,  hold  thy  bloody  hand  ! 
Why  dost  thou  lash  that  whore?     Strip  thine  own  back ; 
Thou  hotly  lust'st  to  use  her  in  that  kind 
For  which  thou  whipp'st  her. —  The  usurer  hangs  the  cozener.-'* 
Through  tatter'd  clothes  small  vices  do  appear ; 
Robes  and  furr'd  gowns  hide  all.     Plate  sin  with  gold, 
And  the  strong  lance  of  justice  hurtless  breaks  ; 
Arm  it  in  rags,  a  pigmy's  straw  does  pierce  it. 
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  ; 
.Vnd,  like  a  scurvy  politician,  seem 

To  see  the  things  thou  dost  not.  —  Now,  now,  now,  now  ! 
Pull  off  my  boots  ;  harder,  harder  ;  so. 

Edg.    \_AsiiIe?^   O,  matter  and  impertinency  mix'd  !-'' 
Reason  in  madness  ! 

Lea)-.    If  thou  wilt  weep  my  fortunes,  take  my  eyes. 
I  know  thee  well  enough ;  thy  name  is  Gloster. 
Thou  must  be  patient ;  we  came  crying  hither  : 
Thou  know'st,  the  first  time  that  we  smell  the  air, 
We  waul  and  cry.-"     I  will  preach  to  thee  :   mark. 

^'J  Cozener  and  to  cozen  were  much  used  in  the  Poet's  time,  and  are  not 
entirely  out  of  use  yet.     To  cozen  is  to  cheat,  to  swindle. 

2"  The  meaning  is,  "  I  will  cancel  their  disability";  or,  "  I  will  'warrant 
or  answer  for  them." 

^f'  Impertinency  in  its  old  sense  of  irrelevancy ;  that  which  lias  no  con- 
nection with  the  matter  in  hand. 

■■'"This  may  have  been  takc-n  from  I'liny,  as  translated  by  Holland: 
"  Man  alone,  poDr  wrrtcli,  nature  lialh  laid  all  naked  upon  the  hare  earth, 


130  KING    LEAK.  ACT  IV, 

Glos.    Alack,  alack  the  day  ! 

Lear.    When  we  are  born,  we  cry  that  we  are  come 
To  this  great  stage  of  fools.  —  'Tis  a  good  block  : 
It  were  a  delicate  stratagem  to  shoe 
A  troop  of  horse  with  felt  :2«  I'll  put't  in  proof; 
And  when  I've  stol'n  upon  these  sons-in-law, 
Then,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill  !29 

Enter  a  Gentleman,  7inth  Attendants. 

Ge7it.    O,  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  a  surgeon  ; 
I'm  cut  to  th'  brains. 

Gent.  You  shall  have  any  thing. 

Lear.   No  seconds  ?  all  myself? 
Why,  this  would  make  a  man  a  man  of  salt,30 
To  use  his  eyes  for  garden  water-pots. 
Ay,  and  for  laying  Autumn's  dust. 

even  on  his  birthday  to  cry  and  wraivle  presently  from  the  very  first  houre 
that  he  is  borne  into  this  world." 

28  So  in  Fenton's  Tragical  Discourses,  1567:  "He  attyreth  himself  for 
the  purpose  in  a  night-gowne  girt  to  hym,  with  a  payre  of  shoes  of  felle, 
leaste  the  noyse  of  his  feete  miglit  discover  his  goinge."  —  When  Lear  goes 
to  preaching  he  fakes  off  his  hat  and  holds  it  in  his  hand,  as  preachers  were 
wont  to  do  in  the  Poet's  time.  "  'Tis  a  good  block"  doubtless  refers  to  the 
shape  or  form  of  the  hat.  As  he  is  holding  the  hat  in  his  hand,  or  perhaps 
moulding  it  into  some  new  shape,  the  thought  strikes  him  what  the  hat  is 
made  of,  and  he  starts  off  upon  the  stratagem  of  shoeing  a  troop  of  horses 
with  felt.  This  use  of  block  is  well  illustrated  by  a  passage  in  Dekker's 
Gull's  Hornbook,  1609:  "That  cannot  observe  the  tune  of  his  hatband,  nor 
know  what  fashioned  block  is  most  kin  to  his  head ;  for  in  my  opinion  the 
brain  cannot  chuse  his/tV/  well." 

29  This  was  the  cry  formerly  in  the  English  army  when  an  onset  was 
made  on  the  enemy. 

8"  Would  turn  a  man  all  to  brine ;  that  is,  to  tears. 


SCENE  VI.  KING    LEAR.  I3I 

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. 

Lear.  Then  there's  life  in't.^-  Nay,  an  you  get  it,  you 
shall  get  it  by  running.     Sa,  sa,  sa,  sa.^^ 

[ Exit ;  Attendants  folloiv. 

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 
Which  twain  have  brought  her  to. 

Edg.    Hail,  gentle  sir. 

Gent.  Sir,  speed  you  :  what's  your  will? 

Edg.    Do  you  hear  aught,  sir,  of  a  battle  toward? 

Gent.    Most  sure  and  vulgar ;  3'  every  one  hears  that. 
Which  can  distinguish  sound. 

Edg.  But,  by  your  favour, 

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. 

Glos.    You  ever-genUe  gods,  take  my  breath  from  me  ; 
Let  not  my  worser  spirit  temjil  me  again 
To  die  before  you  please  ! 

31  .Smu^  is  spruce,  trim,  fine.  So  in  The  Aferckant  of  Venice,  iii.  I :  "  A 
beggar,  tliat  was  used  to  come  so  smtig  upon  the  mart." 

82  There  is  hope  in  it  yet ;  the  case  is  not  desperate. 

33  These  syllables  are  probably  meant  for  Lear's  panting  as  he  runs. 

3<  Vulgar  in  its  old  sense  of  common.     A  frequent  usage. 

86  The  main  body  is  expected  to  be  descried  every  hour.  —  "  On  speedy 
foot"  is  marching  rapidly,  or  footing  it  fast. 


132  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV, 

Edg.  Well  pray  you,  father.^^ 

Glos.    Now,  good  sir,  what  are  you  ? 

Edg.    A  most  poor  man,  made  tame  to  fortune's  blows  ; 
Who,  by  the  art  of  known  and  feeling  sorrows. 
Am  pregnant  3'''  to  good  pity.     Give  me  your  hand, 
I'll  lead  you  to  some  biding. 

Glos.  Hearty  thanks  : 

The  bounty  and  the  benison  of  Heaven 
To  boot,  and  boot ! 

Enter  Oswald. 

Osw.  A  proclaim'd  prize  !     Most  happy  ! 

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. 

Glos.  Now  let  thy  friendly  hand 

Put  strength  enough  to  it.  [Edgar  interposes. 

Ostv.  Wherefore,  bold  peasant, 

Barest  thou  support  a  publish'd  traitor  ?     Hence  ! 
Lest  that  th'  infection  of  his  fortune  take 
Like  hold  on  thee.     Let  go  his  arm. 

Edg.    Chill  not  let  go,  zir,  without  vurther  'casion. 

Osw.    Let  go,  slave,  or  thou  diest ! 

Edg.  Good  gentleman,  go  your  gait,  and  let  poor  volk 
pass.  An  chud  ha'  been  zwagger'd  out  of  my  life,  'twould 
not  ha'  been  zo  long  as  'tis  by  a  vortnight.^^     Nay,  come  not 

36  It  was  customary  for  young  people  to  address  an  aged  person  as 
father  or  r. other.  Hence  Edgar  keeps  addressing  Gloster  so  without  being 
recognized  as  his  son. 

^"^  Pregnant,  \\&x&,  is  quick,  prompt,  ready.  Repeatedly  so.  —  Biding,  m. 
the  next  line,  is  lodging,  or  abiding-place. 

38  "Quickly  call  to  mind  thy  past  offences,  and  repent." 

39  "  If  I  could  have  been  swaggered  out  of  my  life,  'twould  not  have  been 
50  long  as  it  is  by  a  fortnight." 


SCENE  VI.  KING    LKAR.  133 

near  the  old  man  ;  keep  out,  die  \or  ye,  or  ise  try  whether 
your  costard  or  my  ballow  be  the  harder  :  '"  chill  be  plain  with 
you. 

Osw.    Out,  dunghill  ! 

Edg.    Chill  pick  your  teeth,  zir :    come ;    no  matter  vor 
your  foins.'"  \_Thcy  fight,  and  1'^dgar  knocks  him  down. 

Osw.    Slave,  thou  hast  slain  me.     Villain,  take  my  purse  : 
If  ever  thou  wilt  thrive,  bury  my  body  ; 
And  give  the  letters  which  thou  fmd'st  about  me 
To  Edmund  Earl  of  Oloster ;  seek  him  out 
Upon  the  English  party.  —  O,  untimely  death  !  S^Dies 

Edg.    I  know  thee  well ;  a  serviceable  villain. 
As  duteous  to  the  vices  of  thy  mistress 
As  badness  would  desire. 

Ghs.  ^Vhat,  is  he  dead? 

Edg.    Sit  you  down,  father;  rest  you. — 
Let's  see  his  pockets  :  these  letters  that  he  speaks  ot 
May  be  my  friends.     He's  dead  ;  I'm  only  sorry 
He  had  no  other  death's-man.     Let  us  see  : 
Leave,  gentle  wax ;  and,  manners,  blame  us  not : 
To  know  our  enemies'  minds,  we'd  rip  their  hearts  ; 
Their  jjapers,  is  more  lawful. 

[Reads.]  Let  our  reciprocal  vows  be  rememhcr\L  You  have 
many  opportunities^  to  cut  him  off :  if  your  will  want  not, 
time  and  place  will  be  fruitfully  offered.  There  is  nothing 
done,  if  he  return  the  conqueror :  then  am  I  the  prisoner, 
and  his  bed  my  fail ;  from  the  loathed  7uarmth  whereof  de- 
liver me,  and  supply  the  place  for  your  labour. 

Your — wife,  so  I  laould  say  —  affectionate  servant, 

CiONKKlL. 


4«  "  Keep  out,  I  warn  you,  or  I'll  try  whether  your  head  ox  my  ciuii^el  he 
the  liardcr."     Ktlt^nr  here  spi-aks  the  Somersctsliire  dialect. 

■"  l-'oim  are  thrusts,  or  passes  in  fcncinjj.      TIk;  Poet  lias  the  verb  \o /oin. 


134  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

O  undistinguish'd  space  of  woman's  will  I''^ 

A  plot  upon  her  virtuous  husband's  life  ; 

And  the  exchange  my  brother  !  —  Here,  in  the  sands, 

Thee  I'll  rake  up,''^  the  post  unsanctified 

Of  murderous  lechers  ;  and,  in  the  mature  time, 

With  this  ungracious  paper  strike  the  sight 

Of  the  death-practised  duke  :  for  him  'tis  well 

That  of  thy  death  and  business  I  can  tell. 

Glos.    The  King  is  mad  :   how  stiff  is  my  vile  sense, 
That  I  stand  up,  and  have  ingenious'*'*  feeling 
Of  my  huge  sorrows  !     Better  I  were  distract : 
So  should  my  thoughts  be  sever'd  from  my  griefs. 
And  woes,  by  wrong  imaginations,  lose 
The  knowledge  of  themselves.'*^ 

Edg.  Give  me  your  hand  : 

S^Dnim  afar  off. 
Far  off,  methinks,  I  hear  the  beaten  drum  : 
Come,  father,  I'll  bestow  you  with  a  friend.  S^Exetmt. 

^'■^  Undistinguish'd  for  indistinguishable,  as,  before,  unnumbei'd  for  innum- 
erable. The  meaning  probably  is,  that  woman's  will  has  no  distinguishable 
bounds,  or  no  assignable  limits ;  there  is  no  telling  what  she  will  do,  or 
where  she  will  stop. 

''3  That  is,  "  cover  thee  up."  Singer  says  that  in  Staffordshire  to  rake  the 
fire  is  to  cover  it  for  the  night.     So  'tis  in  New  England. 

■*■*  Ingenious  is  intelligent,  lively,  acute.  Warburton  says,  "  Ingenious  feel- 
ing signifies  a  feeling  from  an  understanding  not  disturbed  or  disordered, 
but  which,  representing  things  as  they  are,  makes  the  sense  of  pain  the 
more  exquisite." 

''5  As  the  woes  or  sufterinsfs  of  madmen  are  lost  in  iinaginai  v  felicities. 


SCENE  VII.  KING    I.KAR.  135 


Scene  VII.  —  A  Tent  in  f/ie  Frcncli  Camp.  Lear  07i  a  bed 
asleep,  soft  Music  playing  ;  Doctor,  Gentleman,  andotJicrs 
attending. 

Enter  Cordelia  and  Kent. 

Cord.    O  thou  good  Kent,  liow  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'erpaid. 
All  my  reports  go  with  the  modest  truth  ; 
Nor  more  nor  clipp'd,  but  so.^ 

Cord.  Be  better  suited  : 

These  weeds  are  memories  of  those  worser  hours  ;- 
I  pr'ythee,  put  them  off. 

KenX..  Pardon,  dear  madam  ; 

Yet  to  be  known  shortens  my  main  intent  -."^ 
My  boon  I  make  it,  that  you  know  me  not 
Till  time  and  I  think  meet. 

Cord.    Tiien  be't  so,  my  good  lord. —  \To  the   Doctor.] 
How  does  the  King  ? 

Doct.    Madam,  sleeps  still. 

Cord.    O  you  kind  gods, 
Cure  this  great  breach  in  his  abused  nature  ! 
Th'  untuned  and  jarring  senses,  O,  wind  up 


1  "My  reports  are  neither  exaggerated  wox  curtailed ;  neither  more  nor 
less  than  the  modest  truth." 

2  "  Better  suited"  is  better  dressed.  —  Tlie  Poet  often  has  memory  in  the 
sense  of  memorial  or  remembrancer.     See  vol.  v.  page  34,  note  3. 

3  That  is,  makes  or  will  make  inc  come  short  of  it.  Kent's  thought  is, 
that  the  being  now  known  will  cause  him  to  ftill  short,  not  of  liis  whole  pur- 
pose, but  of  what  he  regards  as  the  more  important  part  of  it,  namely,  a  full 
restoration  of  things  to  the  stale  tlu-y  were  in  at  the  opening  of  the  play  ;  and 
that  he  can  work  better  to  this  end  by  keeping  up  his  disguise  awhile  longer. 
See  page  62,  note  30. 


136 


KING    LEAR. 


Of  this  child-changed  father  !  ■* 

Doct.  So  please  your  Majesty 

That  we  may  wake  the  King  ?  he  hath  slept  long. 

Cord.    Be  govern'd  by  your  knowledge,  and  proceed 
I'  the  sway  of  your  own  will.     Is  he  array'd? 

Gent.    Ay,  madam  ;  in  the  heaviness  of  sleep 
AVe  put  fresh  garments  on  him. 

Doct.    Be  by,  good  madam,  when  we  do  awake  him  : 
I  doubt  not  of  his  temperance.^ 

Cord.  Very  well. 

Doct.    Please  you,  draw  near.  —  Louder  the  music  there.^ 

Cord.    O  my  dear  father,  restoration  hang 
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  ! 

Cord.    Had  you  not  been  their  father,  these  white  flakes 
Had  challenged  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  !  — 
With  this  thin  helm?^     Mine  enemy's  dog, 

^  Meaning,  of  course,  changed,  made  mad,  by  his  children.  So  we  have 
care-crazed  for  crazed  by  care,  and  woe-wearied  for  wearied  by  woe. 

5  Temperance  in  the  classical  sense  of  self-governmott  or  self-control; 
calmness.     See  vol.  xi.  page  88,  note  26. 

6  Shakespeare  considered  soft  music  as  favourable  to  sleep.  Lear  had 
been  thus  composed  to  rest;  and  now  the  Doctor  desires  louder  music,  for 
the  purpose  of  waking  him.     See  vol.  xi.  page  248,  note  i. 

'  In  "  Thy  medicine,"  Thy  may  refer  either  Xo  father  or  to  restoration.  I 
understand  it  as  referring  \o  father  :  ".1/a/ restoration  hang  thy  medicine  on 
my  lips  I  "     Some  understand  Cordelia  as  apostrophizing  restoration. 

8  This  thin  helmet  of  "  white  fiakes,"  or  ^ray  hair.  The  allusion  is  to  the 
forlorn  hope  of  an  army,  called  in  French  enfans perdus  ;  who,  among  other 
desperate  services,  often  engage  in  night-watches.    So  in  Beaumont  and 


SCENE  VII.  KING    LEAR.  1 3/ 

Though  he  had  bit  me,  should  have  stood  that  night 

Against  my  firc;^  and  wast  thou  fain,  poor  father. 

To  hovel  thee  with  swine  and  rogues  forlorn. 

In  short  and  musty  straw?     Alack,  alack  ! 

'Tis  wonder  that  thy  life  and  wits  at  once 

Had  not  concluded  all.'"  —  He  wakes  ;  speak  to  him. 

Doct.    Madam,  do  you  ;   'tis  fittest. 

Cord.    How  does  my  royal  lord  ?  how  fares  your  Majesty  ? 

Lear.    You  do  me  wrong  to  take  me  out  o'  the  grave  : 
Thou  art  a  soul  in  bliss  ;  but  I  am  bound 
Upon  a  wheel  of  fire,  that^'  mine  own  tears 
Do  scald  like  molten  lead. 

Cord.  Sir,  do  you  know  me  ? 

Lear.   You  are  a  spirit,  I  know;  when  did  you  die? 

Cord.    Still,  still,  far  wide  ! 

Doct.    He's  scarce  awake  :  let  him  alone  awhile. 

I^ear.    Where  have    I  been  ?     W'here    am    I  ?     Fair  tlay- 
light? 
I'm  mightily  abused.'-     I  should  e'en  die  with  pity, 
To  see  another  thus.      I  know  not  what  to  say. 
I  will  not  swear  these  arc  my  hands  :   let's  see  ; 
I  feel  this  pin  prick.     Would  I  were  assured 
Of  my  condition  ! 

Fletcher's  Little  French  Lawyer  :  "  I  am  set  here  like  a  perdu,  to  watch  a 
fellow  that  has  wronged  my  mistress." 

9  Verplanck  tells  us  that  Jarvis,  the  American  painter-artist,  used  often  to 
quote  this  passage  as  accumulating  in  the  shortest  compass  the  greatest 
causes  of  dislike,  to  be  overcome  by  good-natured  pity.  "  If  is  not  merely 
the  personal  enemy,  for  whom  there  might  be  human  sympathy,  that  is  ad- 
mitted to  the  family  fireside,  but  his  dog,  and  that  a  dog  tliat  had  inflicted 
his  own  share  of  personal  injury,  and  that,  too,  upon  a  gentle  being  from 
whom  it  was  not  possible  that  he  could  have  received  any  provocation." 

1"  .-///  may  here  be  taken  as  going  with  the  subject:  "  'Tis  wonder  that 
thy  life  and  wits  had  not  all  concluded  "  —  ended  —  "at  once."  Probably 
however,  all  is  here  put  for  altogether.     Sjienser  very  ofiirn  has  it  so. 

11  Tl>c  Poet  very  often  uses  that  for  sj  that,  or  insomuch  that. 

12  To  lead  astray  with  illusions  is  an  old  meaning  o{  abuse. 


138 


KING    LEAR. 


Cord.  O,  look  upon  me,  sir, 

And  hold  your  hands  in  benediction  o'er  me  :  i3 
No,  sir,  you  must  not  kneel. 

Lear.  Pray,  do  not  mock  me  : 

I  am  a  very  foolish  fond  old  man. 
Fourscore  and  upward,  not  an  hour  more  nor  less ; 
And,  to  deal  plainly, 
I  fear  I  am  not  in  my  perfect  mind. 
Methinks  I  should  know  you,  and  know  this  man  ; 
Yet  I  am  doubtful :   for  I'm  mainly'^  ignorant 
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  laugh  at  me ; 
For,  as  I  am  a  man,  I  think  this  lady 
To  be  my  child  Cordelia. 

Cord.  And  so  I  am,  I  am. 

Lear.    Be  your  tears  wet?  yes,  faith.     I  pray,  weep  not : 
If  you  have  poison  for  me,  I  will  drink  it. 
I  know  you  do  not  love  me  ;  for  your  sisters 
Have,  as  I  do  remember,  done  me  wrong  : 
You  have  some  cause,  they  have  not. 

(-ord.  No  cause,  no  cause. 

Lear.    Am  I  in  France  ? 

Ke7it.  In  your  own  kingdom,  sir. 

Lear.    Do  not  abuse  me. 

Doct.    Be  comforted,  good  madam  :   the  great  rage, 
You  see,  is  cured  in  him  :  and  yet  'tis  danger 
To  make  him  even  o'er  tlie  time  he  has  lost.'^ 

13  A  parent's  curse  was  a  dreadful  thing  with  our  ancestors;  and  so  Cor- 
delia 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." 

14  Shakespeare  sometimes  uses  mainly  for  greatly,  strongly,  or  mightily. 
See  vol.  xiv.  page  279,  note  i. 

15  "  Even  o'er  the  time  "  here  means  try  to  account  for  the  time,  or  to 


SCENE  VII.  KING    LEAR.  1 39 

Desire  him  to  go  in  ;  trouble  him  no  more 
Till  further  settling. 

Cord.    Will't  please  your  Highness  walk? 

Lear.  You  must  bear  with  me  : 

Pray  you  now,  forget  and  forgive  ;  I'm  old  and  foolish. i^ 

\_Exi'init  all  but  Kent  and  Cientleman. 

Gent.  Holds  it  true,  sir,  that  the  Duke  of  Cornwall  was 
so  slain? 

Kent.    Most  certain,  sir. 

Gent.    Who  is  conductor  of  his  people  ? 

Kent.    As  'tis  said,  the  bastard  son  of  Gloster. 

Gent.  They  say  Edgar,  his  banish'd  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 
well,  sir.  \^E.xit. 

Kent.    My  point  and  period  will  be  throughly  '"  wrought, 
Or  well  or  ill,  as  this  day's  battle's  fought.  \^Exit. 

make  the  last  day  of  his  remembering  tally  or  fit  in  with  t!ie  present.  —  The 
late  Dr.  Brigham,  with  this  speech  in  his  eye,  writes  as  follows:  "Although 
near  two  centuries  and  a  halfliave  passed  since  Shakespeare  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  treat- 
ment, to  avoid  all  unkindness,  and,  when  patients  begin  to  convalesce,  to 
guard,  as  he  directs,  against  any  thing  likely  to  disturb  their  minds  and  to 
cause  a  relapse,  is  now  considered  the  best  and  nearly  the  only  essential 
treatment." 

l*"'  How  beautifully  the  affecting  return  of  Lear  to  reason,  and  the  mild 
pathos  of  his  speeches,  prepare  the  mind  for  the  last  sad,  yet  sweet,  conso- 
lation of  the  aged  sufferer's  death!  —  CoLERlDGK. 

1'  Throughly  where  we  should  use  thoroughly.  See  vol.  xiv.  page  273 
note  24. 


140  KING    LEAR. 


ACT    V. 

Scene  I.  —  The  British  Caiyip  near  Dover. 

Enter,  with  drum  and  colours,  Edmund,   Regan,  Officers, 
Soldiers,  and  others. 

Edm.    Know  of  the  duke  if  his  last  purpose  hold. 
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  an  Officer,  who  goes  out. 

Reg.    Our  sister's  man  is  certainly  miscarried. 

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 
To  the  forfended  place  ? 

Edtn.  That  thought  abuses  you. 

Reg.    I  am  doubtful  that  you  have  been  conjunct 
And  bosom'd  with  her,  as  far  as  we  call  hers.^ 

Edm.    No,  by  mine  honour,  madam. 


1  A  military  commander  is  apt,  especially  on  the  eve  of  a  battle,  to  vary 
his  orders  frequently,  or  to  give  out  an  order  one  hour,  and  to  countermand 
it  the  next,  as  he  receives  further  intelligence  of  the  enemy's  movements. 
Hence,  to  his  subordinates,  he  often  seems  not  to  know  his  own  mind ;  and 
his  second  order  appears  to  reprove  his  first. 

2  Here,  as  often,  doubted  has  the  sense  ol  feared.  The  same  with  doubt- 
ful in  the  fifth  speech  below. 

*  Probably  meaning,  as  far  as  she  has  any  favours  to  bestow. 


SCENE  I.  KING    LEAR.  I4I 

Reg.    I  never  shall  endure  her  :  dear  my  lord, 
Be  not  familiar  with  her. 

Ei/m.  Fear  me  not. 

She  and  the  duke  her  husband  1 

Enter,    7uiih    drum    and   colours,    Alija.ntv',    Gonerii,,    and 
Soldiers. 

Gon.   \^Asidc?^   I  had  rather  lose  the  battle  than  that  sister 
Should  loosen  him  and  mc. 

Alb.    Our  very  loving  sister,  well  be-met.  — 
Sir,  this  I  hear :  The  King  is  come  to  his  daughter, 
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. 
It  toucheth  us,  as  France  invades  our  land. 
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  reason'd?^ 

Gon.    Combine  together  'gainst  the  enemy  ; 
For  these  domestic  and  particular  broils 
Are  not  the  question  here. 

All'.  Let's,  then,  determine 

With  the  ancient  of  war  on  our  proceeding.'' 

Edm.    I  shall  attend  you"  presently  at  yotir  tent. 

•*  T(j  (Jc/r^  was  sometimes  used  as  a  transitive  verb  for  to  encourage  or 
embolden.  Albany  means  that  the  invasion  touches  him,  not  as  it  is  a  be- 
friending of  the  old  King,  and  aims  to  reinstate  him  in  the  throne,  but  as  it 
threatens  the  independence  of  the  kingdom.  —  Willi  has  simply  the  force  of 
and,  connecting  others  and  King. 

''  "  Why  is  this  talked  about?"  To  talk,  to  converse  is  an  old  meaning 
of  to  reason.     Sec  vol.  ix.  page  267,  note  46. 

'  This  is  meant  as  a  proposal,  or  an  order,  to  hold  a  council  of  veteran 
warriors  for  determining  what  course  to  pursue. 

'  I'klmund  means  that  lie  will  soon  join  Albany  at  his  lent,  instead  of 
going  along  with  him.    So  the  Poet  often   uses  attend.     In  what  follows, 


142  KING    LEAR.  ACT  v. 

Reg.    Sister,  you'll  go  with  us  ? 

Gon.    No. 

Reg.    'Tis  most  convenient ;  pray  you,  go  with  us. 

Gon.   [Aside.']   O,  ho,  I  know  the  riddle.  —  I  will  go. 

As  they  are  going  out,  enter  Edgar  disguised. 

Edg.    If  e'er  your  Grace  had  speech  with  man  so  i)oor. 
Hear  me  one  word. 

Alb.  I'll  overtake  you.  — 

[^Exeuut  all  but  Albany  and  Edgar, 
Speak. 

Edg.    Before  you  fight  the  battle,  ope  this  letter. 
If  you  have  victory,  let  the  trumpet  sound 
For  him  that  brought  it  :  wretched  though  I  seem, 
I  can  produce  a  champion  that  will  prove 
What  is  avouched  there.     If  you  miscarry. 
Your  business  of  the  world  hath  so  an  end, 
And  machination  ceases.*^     Fortune  love  you  ! 

Alb.    Stay  till  I've  read  the  letter. 

J7jg_  I  was  forbid  it. 

When  time  shall  serve,  let  but  the  herald  cry, 
And  I'll  appear  again. 

Alb.    Why,  fare  thee  well ;  I  will  o'erlook  thy  paper. 

\_Exit  Edgar. 

Re-enter  Edmund. 

Edm.    The  enemy's  in  view  ;  draw  up  your  powers. 
Here  is  the  guess  of  their  true  strength  and  forces 

Goneril  lingers  to  keep  with  Edmund;  and  this  at  once  starts  Regan's  sus- 
picions. When  Regan  urges  Goneril  to  go  along  with  them,  the  latter  in- 
stantly guesses  the  cause,  — the  riddle,— ■axid.  replies,"!  will  go."  Very 
intellectual  ladies!  "  Dragons  in  the  prime,  that  tear  each  other  in  their 
slime." 

s  "  All  plottings  or  designs  against  your  life  have  an  end." 


SCENR  II.  KING    LEAR.  I43 

By  diligent  discovery  ;  but  your  haste 
Is  now  urged  on  }ou. 

Alb.  We  will  greet  the  time.^  {^Exit. 

Edin.    To  both  these  sisters  have  I  sworn  my  love ; 
Each  jealous  of  the  other,  as  the  stung 
Are  of  the  adder.     Which  of  them  shall  I  take  ? 
Both?  one?  or  neither?     Neither  can  be  enjoy'd, 
If  both  remain  alive  :   to  take  the  widow 
Exasperates,  makes  mad  her  sister  Goneril ; 
And  hardly  shall  I  carry  out  my  side,'" 
Her  husband  being  alive.     Now,  then,  we'll  use 
His  countenance  for  the  batde  ;  which  being  done, 
Let  her  who  would  be  rid  of  him  devise 
His  speedy  taking-off.     As  for  the  mercy 
Which  he  intends  to  Lear  and  to  Cordelia,  — 
The  battle  done,  and  they  within  our  power. 
Shall  never  see  his  pardon  ;   for  my  state 
Stands  on  me  to  defend,"  not  to  debate.  \_ExU. 

Scene  II.  —  A  Field  be tiveen  the  two  Camps. 

Alarum  loi/hin.     Enter,  with  drum  and  colours,  Le.\r,  Cor- 
UELIA,  and  their  Forces  ;  and  exeunt. 

Enter  Vaiv.wk  and  Gloster. 
Ed^.    Here,  father,  take  the  shadow  of  this  tree 
For  your  good  host ;  '-  pray  that  the  right  may  thrive  : 

*  "  Wc  will  be  ready  for  the  occasion,  or  at  hand  to  welcome  it." 

'"  "  I  shall  hardly  be  able  to  make  out  my  game."  In  the  language  of 
the  card-table,  to  set  up  a  side  was  to  become  partners  in  a  game ;  and  to 
carry  out  a  side  was  to  win  or  succeed  in  the  game. 

1'  The  meaning  probably  is,  "  for  it  stands  upon  me,"  that  is,  it  concerns 
mc,  or  is  incumbent  on  me,  "  t<j  defend  my  state."  See  vol.  xiv.  page  302, 
note  14. 

'2  A  rather  strange  use  of  ho^t ;  but  Shakespeare  lias  at  least  two  in- 
stances of  host  used  as  a  verb  for  to  lodge.     See  vol.  iv.  page  78,  note  11. 


144  KING    LEAR.  ACT  Vo 

If  ever  I  return  to  you  again, 
I'll  bring  you  comfort. 

Glos.  Grace  go  with  you,  sir  !   \^Exit  Edgar. 

Alarum  and  retreat  within.     Re-enter  Edgar. 

Edg.    Away,  old  man  ;  give  me  thy  hand  ;  away  ! 
King  Lear  hath  lost,  he  and  his  daughter  ta'en  : 
Give  me  thy  hand  ;  come  on. 

Glos.    No  further,  sir  ;  a  man  may  rot  even  here. 

Edg.    What,  in  ill  thoughts  again  ?     Men  must  endure 
Their  going  hence,  even  as  their  coming  hither  : 
Ripeness  is  all.'^     Come  on. 

Glos.  And  that's  true  too.    \_Exeunt. 

Scene  III.  —  The  British  Camp,  near  Dover. 

Enter,  in  conquest,  zvitJi  drum  and  colours,  Edmund  ;  Lear 
and  Cordelia  Prisoners  ;  Officers,  Soldiei^s,  ^'c. 

Edm.    Some  officers  take  them  away  :    good  guard, 
Until  their  greater  j^leasures  i  first  be  known 
That  are  to  censure  them. 

Cord.  We're  not  the  first 

Who,  with  best  meaning,  have  incurr'd  the  worst. 
*For  thee,  oppressed  King,  am  I  cast  down ; 
*Myself  could  else  out-frown  false  fortune's  frown. 
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'  the  cage. 
When  thou  dost  ask  me  blessing,  I'll  kneel  down, 

13  Ripeness,  here,  is  preparedness  or  readiness.  So  Hamlet,  on  a  like 
occasion,  says  "  the  readiness  is  all."  And  so  the  phrase,  "  Like  a  shock  of 
com  fully  ripe." 

1  "'Y)\&\x  greater  pleasures"  means  the  pleasure  of  \\-\q  greater  persons.— 
Here,  as  usual,  to  censure  is  \o  judge,  io  pass  sentence. 


SCENE  III.  KING    LEAR.  I45 

And  ask  of  thee  forgiveness.     So  we'll  live, 
And  pray,  and  sing,  and  tell  old  tales,  and  laugh 
At  gilded  butterflies,  and  hear  poor  rogues 
Talk  of  Court  news  ;  and  we'll  talk  with  them  too, 
Who  loses  and  who  wins  ;  who's  in,  who's  out ;  ~ 
And  take  upon's  the  mystery  of  tilings, 
.\s  if  we  were  God's  spies  :  '^  and  we'll  wear  out. 
In  a  wall'd  prison,  packs  and  sects ''  of  great  ones, 
That  ebb  and  flow  by  th'  Moon. 

Edm.  Take  them  away. 

Lear.    Upon  such  sacrifices,  my  Cordelia, 
The  gods  themselves  throw  incense.     Have  I  caught  thee? 
He  that  parts  us  shall  bring  a  brand  from  heaven, 
And  fire  us  hence  like  foxes.^     Wipe  thine  eyes ; 
The  goujeers  shall  devour  them,  flesh  and  fell,^ 
Ere  they  shall  make  us  weep  ;  we'll  see  'em  starve  first. 
Come.  \_Exei/7it  Lear  and  Cordelu,  guarded. 

Edm.    Come  hither,  captain  ;  hark. 
Take  thou  this  note  ;  "^  [  Giving  a  paper P^  go  follow  them  to 

prison  : 
One  step  I  have  advanced  thee  ;  if  thou  dost 
As  this  instructs  thee,  thou  dost  make  thy  way 

2  The  old  King  refers  to  the  intrigues  and  rivalries,  the  plottings  and 
counter-plottings  of  courtiers,  to  get  ahead  of  each  other  in  the  sovereign's 
favour.  The  swift  vicissitudes  of  ins  and  otfts  in  Court  life  was  a  common 
theme  of  talk  in  the  Poet's  time. 

'  .Meaning,  no  doubt,  as  Heath  explains  it,  "  spies  commissionotl  and  en- 
abled by  God  to  pry  into  the  most  hidden  secrets." 

*  Packs  and  sects  are  much  the  same  as  what  we  call  political  rings.  The 
radical  nicaning  oi  sect  is  section  ;  a  faction  or  party, 

'•  Alluding  to  the  old  practice  of  smoking  foxes  out  of  their  holes. 

8  Cioiijeer  was  the  name  of  what  was  often  spoken  of  in  the  Poet's  time 
as  the  French  disease ;  a  disease  noted  for  its  efTccts  in  eating  away  certain 
parts  of  the  body.  —  Fell  is  an  old  word  for  skin. 

'  This  is  a  warrant  signed  by  JCdmund  and  Goneril,  for  the  execution  of 
Le.ir  and  Cordelia,  referred  to  afterwards. 


146  KING    LEAR.  ACT  v. 

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  ;8  either  say  thou'lt  do't, 
Or  thrive  by  other  means. 

Off.  I'll  do't,  my  lord. 

Edtn.    About  it;  and  write  happy 9  when  thou  hast  done. 
Mark,  —  I  say,  instantly  ;  and  carry  it  so 
As  I  have  set  it  down.^*^ 

Off.    I  cannot  draw  a  cart,  nor  eat  dried  oats ; 
If't  be  man's  work,  I'll  do't.  \Exit 

Flourish.     Enter  Albany,  Goneril,  Regan,  Officers,  and 
Attendants. 

Alb.    Sir,  you  have  shown  to-day  your  valiant  strain,ii 
And  fortune  led  you  well.    You  have  the  captives 
Who  were  the  opposites  of  this  day's  strife  : 
We  do  require  them  of  you,  so  to  use  them 
As  we  shall  find  their  merits  and  our  safety 
May  equally  determine. 

Edm.  Sir,  I  thought  it  fit 

To  send  the  old  and  miserable  King 
To  some  retention  and  appointed  guard  ; 
Whose  age  has  charms  in  it,  whose  title  more, 
To  pluck  the  common  bosom  on  his  side, 

^  "  The  great  employment  now  entrusted  to  thee  will  not  admit  of  delay 
or  scrupulous  inquiry." 

9  Here,  as  often,  happy  \s  fortunate  ;  like  the  Latin /e/ix.  "  Write  happy  " 
is  an  old  mode  of  speech,  meaning  reckon  or  describe  yourself  as  a  happy 
man.  So,  in  2  Henry  IV.,  i.  2,  Falstaff  says  of  the  Prince,  "  and  yet  he'll  be 
crowing  as  if  he  had  writ  man  ever  since  his  father  was  a  bachelor." 

1"  What  this  refers  to  appears  afterwards,  in  Edmund's  last  speech,  "  To 
lay  the  blame  upon  her  own  despair,  that  she  fordid  herself." 

11  Strain  is  repeatedly  used  in  the  sense  of  turn,  aptitude,  or  inborn  dis- 
position ;  like  the  Latin  indoles.     See  vol.  vii.  page  188,  note  5. 


KING    LEAR. 


14; 


And  turn  our  impress'd  lances '-  in  our  eyes 

Which  do  command  them.     With  him  I  sent  the  Queen ; 

My  reason  all  the  same  ;  and  they  are  ready 

To-morrow,  or  at  further  space,  t'  appear 

Where  you  shall  hold  your  session.     At  this  time 

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, 

I  hold  you  but  a  subject  of  this  war. 
Not  as  a  brother. 

Reg.  That's  as  we  list  to  grace  him. 

Methinks  our  pleasure  might  have  been  demanded, 
Ere  you  had  spoke  so  far.      He  led  our  powers ; 
Bore  the  commission  of  my  place  and  person  ; 
The  which  immediacy'^  may  well  stand  up 
And  call  itself  your  brother. 

Gon.  Not  so  hot : 

In  his  own  grace  he  doth  exalt  himself, 
More  than  in  your  addition. 

Reg.  In  my  rights 

By  me  invested,  he  compeers  the  best. 

12  Lances  for  soldiers  .-irmcd  with  lances,  as,  tjefore,  brown-bills  for  men 
armed  with  battle-axes.  —  Impiess'd  referring  to  the  men's  having  been 
pressed  into  the  service,  and  received  tiie  "  press-money." 

'3  In  a  war.  even  those  of  the  victorious  side,  tliose  who  have  the  best 
of  it,  curse  the  quarrel  at  first,  while  they  feel  its  sharpness  in  tiic  loss  of 
friends,  or  perhaps  in  their  own  wounds. 

'^  This  apt  and  forcible  word  is  probably  of  the  Poet's  own  coinage. 
Nares  says  that  "  the  word,  so  far  as  is  known,  is  peculiar  to  this  passage." 
Of  course  the  meaning  is,  that  Edmund  has  his  commission  directly  from 
her,  and  not  throuj^h  anyone  else;  that  is,  he  is  her  lieutenant,  not  .Mbany's. 
So  in  Hamlet  wc  have  "  the  most  immediate  to  the  throne."  Commission  is 
here  used  in  the  sense  of  authority. 


148  KING    LEAR.  ACT  v. 

Gon.   That  were  the  most,  if  he  should  husband  you. 

Reg.   Jesters  do  oft  prove  prophets. 

Go 71.  Holla,  holla  ! 

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, 
Take  thou  my  soldiers,  prisoners,  patrimony ; 
Dispose  of  them,  of  me  ;  yea,  all  is  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. i''' 

Edm.    Nor  in  thine,  lord. 

Alb.  Half-blooded  fellow,  yes. 

Reg.    \_To  Edmund.]    Let  the  drum  strike,  and  prove  my 
title  thine. 

Alb.    Stay  yet,  hear  reason.  —  Edmund,  I  arrest  thee 
On  capital  treason ;  and,  in  thy  arrest, 
This  gilded  serpent.    \_Pointing  to  Gon.]  —  For  your  claim, 

fair  sister, 
I  bar  it  in  the  interest  of  my  wife  ; 
'Tis  she  is  sub-contracted  to  this  lord. 
And  I,  her  husband,  contradict  your  banns. 
If  you  will  marry,  make  your  loves  to  me ; 
My  lady  is  bespoke. 

Gon.  An  interlude  !  ^^ 


15  Alluding  to  the  proverb,  "  Love  being  jealous  makes  a  good  eye  look 
asquint'.'     So  in  Milton's  Comiis  :  "  And  gladly  banish  sz/iiini  suspicion." 

IS  Here,  as  often,  stojnach  is  anger  or  resentment. 

IT  Well  explained  by  Ritson :  "  Albany  tells  his  wife  that,  however  she 
might  want  \);\q  power ,  she  evidently  did  not  want  the  inclination,  to  prevent 
the  match."  In  other  words,  "  I  see  you  would  willingly  stop  it,  if  you 
could."     A  taunt  to  his  wife,  equivalent  to  "  You  want  him  yourself." 

18  This  is  intended  sarcastically ;  as  if  Albany  had  got  up  a  play  or  a 
jcene  for  the  entertainment  of  the  company. 


SCENE  III.  KING    LEAR.  I49 

Alb.    Thou  art  arm'd,  Gloster  :  let  the  trumpet  sound. 
If  none  appear,  to  prove  upon  thy  i)erson 
Thy  heinous,  manifest,  and  many  treasons, 
There  is  my  pledge  :    \_Thr(naini:;  (ioion  a  gio7>e.'\    I'll  prove 

it  on  thy  heart. 
Ere  I  taste  bread,  thou  art  in  nothing  less 
Than  1  have  here  proclaim'd  thee. 

Rfg.  Sick,  O,  sick  ! 

Goii.    \_Aside.'\    If  not,  I'll  ne'er  trust  medicine. 

Et/in.    There's  my  exchange  :    \_Throioifii:;  down  a  gloTe.'] 
what  in  the  world  he  is 
That  names  ine  traitor,  \illain-like  he  lies. 
Call  by  thy  trumpet  :   lie  that  dares  approach. 
On  him,  on  you,  —  who  not? —  I  will  maintain 
M\'  truth  and  honour  firmly. 

A//>.    A  herald,  ho  ! 

Edm.  A  herald,  ho,  a  herald  ! 

All).    Trust  to  thy  single  virtue  ;  '■'  for  thy  soldiers, 
All  levied  in  my  name,  have  in  my  name 
Took  their  discharge. 

Reg.  My  sickness  grows  upon  me. 

All).    She  is  not  well ;  convey  her  to  my  tent.  — 

\_Exit  Regan,  led. 
Enter  a  Herald. 

Come  hither,  herald,  —  Let  tlie  trumpet  sound, — 
.And  read  out  this. 

Off.    Sound,  trumpet  !  [.  /  triiinpct  sounds. 

Her.  [Reads.]  If  a/iy  nuin  of  t/i/ali/v  or  degree  uniliin 
tlie  Ihls  of  the  arinv  will  nuiintciin.  iipini  I'ldniiind,  supposed 
Earl  of  Gloster,  that  he  is  a  manifold  traitor,  let  him  appear 
by  the  third  sound  of  the  trumpet:  he  is  bold  in  his  defenee. 

19  Virtue  is  used  in  tlic  old  Roman  sense  ;   for  valour. 


150  KING    LEAR.  ACT  V. 

Edm.    Sound  ■  \_First  trumpet. 

Her.    Again  !  \Seco7id  trumpet. 

Her.    Again  !  [  Third  trumpet. 

\Trumpet  answers  within. 

Enter  Edgar,  armed,  and  preceded  by  a  Trumpet. 

Alb.    Ask  him  his  purposes,  why  he  appears 
Upon  this  call  o'  the  trumpet.-*^ 

Her.  What  are  you? 

Your  name,  your  quality?  and  why  you  answer 
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  ? 

Edg.    What's  he  that  speaks  for  Edmund  Earl  of  Gloster? 

Edin.    Himself:  what  say'st  thou  to  him? 

Edg.  Draw  thy  sword, 

That,  if  my  speech  offend  a  noble  heart. 
Thy  arm  may  do  thee  justice  :  here  is  mine. 
Behold,  it  is  the  privilege  of  mine  honours, 
My  oath,  and  my  profession  :   I  protest,  — 
Maugre  thy  strength,  youth,  place,  and  eminence, 
Despite  thy  victor  sword  and  fire-new  fortune. 
Thy  valour  and  thy  heart,  —  thou  art  a  traitor  ; 
False  to  thy  gods,  thy  brother,  and  thy  father ; 
Conspirant  'gainst  this  high  illustrious  prince ; 
And,  from  th'  extremest  upward  of  thy  head 


20  This  is  in  accordance  with  the  old  ceremonial  of  the  trial  by  combat  in 
criminal  cases.  So  stated  in  Selden's  Duello  :  "  The  appellant  and  his  pro- 
curator first  come  to  the  gate.  The  constable  and  marshal  demand  by 
voice  of  herald,  what  he  is,  and  why  he  comes  so  arrayed."  The  same  cere- 
monial is  followed  in  detail  in  A'i«f  Richard  II.,  i.  3. 


SCENE  III.  KING    LEAR.  I5I 

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 
To  prove  upon  thy  heart,  whereto  I  speak. 
Thou  licst. 

Edm.        In  wisdom  I  should  ask  thy  name  ;  ^^ 
But,  since  thy  outside  looks  so  fair  and  warlike. 
And  that  thy  tongue  some  'say  ~-  of  breeding  breathes, 
AV' hat  safe  and  nicely  I  might  well  delay  -'^ 
By  rule  of  knighthood,  I  disdain  and  spurn. 
Back  do  I  toss  these  treasons  to  thy  head  ; 
With  the  hell-hated  lie  o'erwhelm  thy  heart ; 
Which  — for  they  yet  glance  by,  and  scarcely  bruise  — 
This  sword  of  mine  shall  give  them  instant  way, 
Where  they  shall  rest  for  ever.^"*  — Trumpets,  speak  ! 

\_A/ar7nns.      They  fight :  EDMUND/rtrZ/c. 

Gon.   O,  save  him,  save  him  !  — This  is  practice,--''  Gloster  : 
By  th'  law  of  arms  thou  wast  not  Ijound  to  answer 
An  unknown  opposite  ;  thou  art  not  vanquish'd, 
But  cozen'd  and  beguiled. 

Alb.  Shut  your  mouth,  dame, 

Or  with  this  paper  shall  I  stop  it.  —  \_To    Edg.vr.]    Hold, 
sir  !  — 

21  Because,  if  his  adversary  were  not  of  equal  rank,  Edmund  might  de- 
cline the  combat.     See  vol.  x.  page  211,  note  5. 

22  "  Some  'say"  that  is,  assay,  is  some  taste,  some  smack. 

23  That  is,  "  What  I  might  safely  well  delay  if  I  acted  punctiliously" 
Such  is  one  of  the  old  meanings  oi  nicely.  If  the  language  be  taken  strictly, 
Edmund  is  made  to  disdain  and  spurn  the  combat ;  which  is  clearly  just  the 
reverse  of  his  meaning.  Perhaps  the  best  way  is  to  understand  the  language 
as  elliptical:  "The  trial,  which  I  might  well  delay,  I  disdain  and  scorn  to 
delay."    See  Critical  Notes. 

2*  To  the  place  where  they  shall  rest  for  ever;  that  is,  in  Edgar's  heart. 

25  Practice,  again,  for  plot,  stratai^ein,  artifice.  Sec  page  29,  note  25. 
Other  instances  of  the  same  have  occurred  in  this  play;  such  as  "damned 
practice,"  and  "he  did  bewray  his  practice." 


152  KING    LEAR.  ACT  v. 

[7^7  GoN.]   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  : 
Who  can  arraign  me  for't?  \_Exit. 

Alb.  Most  monstrous  !     O  !  — 

Know'st  thou  this  paper  ?  [  Offers  the  letter  to  Edmund. 

Edm.    Ask  me  not  what  I  know.^*' 

Alb.    Go  after  her  :  she's  desperate  ;  govern  her. 

\^To  an  Ofificer,  zvho  goes  out. 

Edm.    [71?  Edgar.]    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 
That  hast  this  fortune  on  me  ?     If  thou'rt  noble, 
I  do  forgive  thee. 

Edg.  Let's  exchange  charity. 

I  am  no  less  in  blood  than  thou  art,  Edmund ; 
If  more,  the  more  thou'st  wronged  me. 
My  name  is  Edgar,  and  thy  father's  son. 
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.  Thou  hast  spoken  right,  'tis  true  ; 

The  wheel  is  come  full  circle  ;  I  am  here. 

Alb.    Methought  thy  very  gait  did  prophesy 
A  royal  nobleness.     I  must  embrace  thee  : 
Let  sorrow  split  my  heart,  if  ever  I 
Did  hatf^  thee  or  thy  father  ! 

26  Albany  might  well  ask  Edmund,  "  know'st  thou  this  paper?"  for,  in 
fact,  Goneril's  letter  did  not  reach  Edmund  ;  he  had  not  seen  if.  Edmund, 
with  some  spirit  of  manhood,  refuses  to  make  any  answers  that  will  crimi- 
nate or  black(?n  a  woman  by  whom  he  is  loved ;  and  then  proceeds,  con- 
sistently, to  answer  Edgar's  charges. 


SCENE  III.  KING    LEAR.  1 53 

Edg.  Worthy  prince, 

I  know't. 

.-///'.        \Vhere  have  you  hid  yourself? 
How  have  you  known  the  miseries  of  your  father? 

Edg.    By  nursing  them,  my  lord.     List  a  brief  tale  ; 
And,  when  'tis  told,  O,  that  my  heart  would  burst  ! 
The  bloody  proclamation  to  escape. 
That  follow'd  me  so  near,  —  O,  our  lives'  sweetness  ! 
That  with  the  pain  of  death  we'd  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, 
Their  precious  stones  new  lost ;  became  his  guide, 
Led  him,  begg'tl  for  him,  saved  him  from  despair ; 
Never — O  fault  !  — reveal'd  myself  unto  him, 
Until  some  half-hour  past,  when  I  was  arm'd  : 
Not  sure,  though  hoping,  of  this  good  success,^^ 
I  ask'd  his  blessing,  and  from  first  to  last 
Told  him  my  pilgrimage  ;   but  his  flaw'd  heart, 
Alack,  too  weak  the  conflict  to  support  ! 
'Twixt  two  extremes  of  passion,  joy  and  grief. 
Burst  smilingly. 

Edm.  This  speech  of  yours  hath  moved  me, 

And  shall  perchance  do  good  :  but  speak  you  on  ; 
You  look  as  you  had  something  more  to  say. 

Alb.    If  there  be  more,  more  woeful,  hold  it  in  ; 
For  I  am  almost  ready  to  dissolve,  ' 

27  "To  die  hourly  with  the  pain  of  death,"  i-,  ;i  periphrasis  for  to  suffer 
hourly  the  pain  of  death. 

28  Here,  as  in  many  oth<T  phices,  success  is  issue  or  result.  —  "  This  good 
success"  refers  to  the  combat  with  Edmund.  E<l|::ar,  apprehensive  that  he 
might  fall,  had  piously  craved  his  f.ither's  benediction  on  the  undertaking. 
So,  in  the  long  run,  he  who  believes  i-i  t'lo  gods,  and  fears  them,  proves  too 
much  for  the  intellectual  sceptic  and  scoffer. 


154  KING    LEAR.  ACT  V. 

Hearing  of  this. 

Edg.  This  would  have  seem'd  a  period 

To  such  as  love  not  sorrow ;  but  another, 
To  amplify  too-much,  would  make  much  more, 
And  top  extremity.^^ 

Whilst  I  was  big  in  clamour,  came  there  a  man, 
Who,  having  seen  me  in  my  worst  estate, 
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 
As  he'd  burst  heaven  ;  threw  liim  on  my  father ; 
Told  the  most  piteous  tale  of  Lear  and  him 
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 
FoUow'd  his  enemy  King,  and  did  him  service 
Improper  for  a  slave. 

Enter  a  Gentleman  hastily  with  a  bloody  knife. 

Gent.    Help,  help,  O,  help  ! 

Edg.  What  kind  of  help  ? 

29  This  obscure  passage  has  commonly  been  set  down  as  corrupt,  and  I 
formerly  thought  it  so  myself;  but  I  am  now  satisfied  that  it  is  sound.  To 
amplify  is  another  instance  of  the  infinitive  used  gerundively,  and  is  equiva- 
lent to  in  or  by  amplifying.  See  page  68,  note  i6.  —  The  use  of  to  top  for 
to  surpass  is  very  frequent.  See  page  23,  note  3.  So  that  the  sense  of  the 
text  comes  something  thus :  "  To  those  who  are  not  in  love  with  sorrow, 
this  tale  which  I  have  just  told  would  seem  to  be  enough,  —  seem  to  require 
a  period,  or  full  stop ;  but  another  such  talc  added  to  this,  by  amplifying 
what  is  already  too  much,  by  making  that  too-much  still  more,  would  pass 
beyond  or  overtop  the  utmost  limit  of  distress."  —  This  explanation  was 
suggested  to  me  by  Mr.  Crosby.  Another  has  been  ]nistaken  to  mean 
another /tvjt;;/.     The  key  to  the  right  sense  is  in  the  gerundial  infinitive. 


SCENE  III.  KING    LEAR.  1 55 

Alb.  Speak,  man  ! 

Edg.    What  means  that  bloody  knife  ? 

Gent.  'Tis  hot,  it  smokes  ! 

It  came  even  from  the  heart  of — -  O,  she's  dead  ! 

Alb.    Who  dead?  speak,  man  ! 

Gent.    Your  lady,  sir,  your  lady  !  and  her  sister 
By  her  is  poison'd  ;  she  confesses  it. 

Ellin.    I  was  contractetl  to  them  both  :  all  three 
Now  marry  in  an  instant. 

Edg.  Mere  comes  Kent. 

Alb.    Produce  their  bodies,  be  they  alive  or  dead.  — 

\_Exit  a  Gentleman. 
This  judgment  of  the  Heavens,  that  makes  us  tremble, 
Touches  us  not  with  pity.  — 

Enter  Kent. 

O,  is  this  he?  — 
The  time  will  not  allow  the  compliment 
Which  very  manners  urges. -"^ 

Kent.  I  am  come 

To  bid  my  King  and  master  aye  good  night : 
Is  he  not  here? 

Alb.  Great  thing  of  us  forgot  !  — 

Speak,  Edmund,  where's  the  King?  and  where's  Cordelia? — 
[77/r  bodies  r^GoNERir,  and  Rkgan  are  brought  in. 
See'st  thou  this  object,  Kent? 

Kent.    .Mack,  why  thus? 

F.dm.  Yet  iMlmund  was  beloved  : 

The  one  the  other  poison'd  for  iny  sake, 
And  after  slew  herself. 

Alb.    Even  so.  —  Cover  their  faces. 

8"  "There  is  no  time  now  for  (lie  inlercliange  of  courtesies  which  mere 
good-breeding  requires,  to  say  nothing  of  old  friendship  and  affection." 
The  Poet  often  luis  very  in  the  sense  of  vifir.    Si.-e  vul.  xiv.  pagi:  2S2,  nt)tt;  14. 


156  KING    LEAR.  ACT  V. 

Edm.    I  pant  for  life  :  some  good  I  mean  to  do, 
Despite  of  mine  own  nature.     Quickly  send  — ■ 
Be  brief  31  in  it  —  to  th'  castle  !  for  my  writ 
Is  on  tiie  life  of  Lear  and  on  Cordelia  : 
Nay,  send  in  time. 

Alb.  Run,  run,  O,  run  ! 

Edg.    To  who,  my  lord  ?     Who  has  the  office  ?  send 
Thy  token  of  reprieve. 

Edm.  \Vell  thought  on  :  take  my  sword  ; 

Give  it  the  captain. 

Alb.  Haste  thee,  for  thy  life.      S^Exit  Edgar. 

Edm.    He  hath  commission  from  thy  wife  and  me 
To  hang  Cordelia  in  the  i)rison,  and 
To  lay  the  blame  upon  her  own  despair. 
That  she  fordid*^-  herself. 

Alb.    The  gods  defend  her  !  — ^Bear  him  hence  awhile. 

[Edmund  is  borne  off. 

Re-enter  Lear,  zvith  Cordelia  dead  in  his  arms ;    Edgar, 
Officer,  and  others  folhmnjig. 

Lear.    Howl,  howl,  howl,  howl  !     O,  you  are  men  of  stone  ! 
Had  I  your  tongues  and  eyes,  I'd  use  them  so 
The  heaven's  vault  should  crack.     She's  gone  for  ever  ! 
I  know  when  one  is  dead,  and  when  one  lives  ; 
She's  dead  as  earth  !     Lend  me  a  looking-glass  ; 
If  that  her  breath  will  mist  or  stain  the  stone. 
Why,  then  she  lives. 

Kent.  Is  this  the  promised  end? 

Edg.    Or  image  of  that  horror  P^^ 

31  Brief  iox  quick.     Briefly  for  quickly  has  occurred  before. 

^'-  To  fordo  signifies  to  destroy.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  189,  note  20. 

3'5  Kent,  more  Christian  than  pagan,  recalls  those  passages  of  St.  Mark 
in  which  Christ  foretells  to  His  disciples  the  end  of  the  world,  and  hence  his 
question,  "  Is  this  the  end  of  all  things,  which  has  been  foretold  to  us  ?  " 
To  which  Edgar  adds,  "  Or  only  a  representation  of  that  horror  ?" 


SCF.NF.    1    I. 


KING    LEAR.  I  57 


Alb.  Fall,  and  cease  !>*•* 

Lear.   This  feather  stirs  ;  she  lives  !  if  it  be  so, 
It  is  a  chance  which  does  redeem  all  sorrows 
That  ever  I  have  felt. 

Kent.    \_Kneeiing.'\    O  my  good  master  ! 

Lear.    Pr'ythee,  away  ! 

£dg.  'Tis  noble  Kent,  your  friend. 

Lear.    \  plague  ui)on  you,  murderers,  traitors  all ! 
I  might  have  saved  her  ;  now  she's  gone  for  ever  I  — 
Cordelia,  Cordelia  !  stay  a  httle.     Ha  ! 
What  is't  thou  say'st? —  Her  voice  was  ever  soft, 
Gentle,  and  low,  an  excellent  thing  in  woman.  — 
I  kill'd  the  slave  that  was  a-hanging  thee. 

Off.    'Tis  true,  my  lords,  he  did. 

Lear.  Did  I  not,  fellow? 

I've  seen  the  day,  with  my  good  biting  falchion 
I  would  have  made  them  skip  :   I  am  old  now, 
And  these  same  crosses  spoil  me.  — Who  are  you? 
Mine  eyes  are  none  o'  the  best :   I'll  tell  you  straight. 

Kenf.    If  Fortune  brag  of  two  she  loved  and  hated. 
One  of  them  ye  behold.^'' 

Lear.    'Tis  a  dull  light. ■"•     Are  you  not  Kent? 

s-i  To  cease  is  to  die.  Alb.Tny,  looking  on  the  pains  employed  hy  Lear  to 
recover  Cordelia,  and  knowing  to  what  miseries  he  must  survive,  when  he 
finds  them  to  be  ineffectual,  cries  out,  "  Rather  fall,  and  cease  to  be  at  once 
than  continue  in  existence  only  to  be  wretched." 

^•'  This  is  said,  apparently,  in  answer  to  Lear's  question,  "  Who  arc  you?  " 
I5y /7W,  Kent  means,  of  course,  himself  and  the  King;  by  c//^,  himself.  In 
former  days.  Fortune  had  indeed  scrcmed  to  love  them  both  ;  but,  of  late, 
her  persecutions  have  been  as  bitter  as  iicr  smiles  were  sweet  before. 

^'^  The  old  King  is  dying;  and,  as  often  happens  on  the  approach  of 
death,  he  mistakes  the  sudden  dimming  of  his  eyes  for  a  defect  of  light, 
fjocthc's  last  words  arc  said  to  have  been  "  More  light!  "  In  fact,  hardly 
any  thing  is  more  common  than  for  dying  people  to  complain  that  it  is 
growing  dark ;  and  physicians  will  tell  us  there  is  no  worse  sign  than  such 
a  calling  for  light. 


IS8  KING    LEAR.  act  v. 

Kent.  The  same. 

Your  servant  Kent.     Where  is  your  servant  Caius? 

Lear.    He's  a  good  fellow,  I  can  tell  you  that ; 
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  the  first  of  difference  and  decay, 
Have  follow'd  your  sad  steps,  — 

Lear.  You're  welcome  hither. 

Kent.    —  Nor  no  man    else.     All's    cheerless,  dark,    and 
deadly  : 
Your  eldest  daughters  have  fordone  themselves. 
And  desperately  are  dead. 

Lear.  Ay,  so  I  think. 

Alb.    He  knows  not  what  he  says ;  and  vain  is  it 
That  we  present  us  to  him. 

Edg.  Very  bootless. 

Enter  an  Officer. 

Off.    Edmund  is  dead,  my  lord. 

Alb.  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, 
To  him  our  absolute  power.  —  {_To  Edgar  and  Kent.]   You, 

to  your  rights  ; 
With  boot,  and  such  addition  as  your  honours 
Have  r:i0re  than  merited.     All  friends  shall  taste 
The  wages  of  their  virtue,  and  all  foes 
The  cup  of  their  deservings.  —  O,  see,  see  ! 

37  "  This  great  decay  "  is  Lear.  Shakespeare  means  the  same  as  if  he 
had  said,  "  this  piece  of  decayed  royalty."  Gloster  calls  him  in  a  preceding 
scene  "  ruin'd  piece  of  nature." 


SCENE  III.  KING    LEAR. 


159 


Lear.    And  my  poor  fool  is  hang'd  !  38     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  !  — 
Pray  you,  undo  this  button.     Thank  you,  sir. 
Do  you  see  this  ?     Look  on  her,  —  look,  —  her  lips,  — 
Look  there,  look  there  !  \^Dies. 

Edg.  He  faints  !  —  My  lord,  my  lord  !  — 

Kent.    Break,  heart ;  I  pr'ythee,  break  ! 

Edg.  Look  up,  my  lord. 

Kent.   Vex  not  his  ghost :  O,  let  him  pass  !  he  hates  him 
That  would  upon  the  rack  of  this  tough  world 
Stretch  him  out  longer. 

Edg.  He  is  gone  indeed. 

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.  —  [71?  Kext  and  Edgar.]    Friends  of  my 

soul,  you  twain 
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.^^ 

Alb.    The  weight  of  this  sad  time  we  must  obey  ; 
Speak  what  we  feel,  not  what  we  ought  to  say. 


88  Poor  fool  was  often  used  as  a  strong  expression  of  endearment.  Here 
the  words  refer,  not  to  the  Fool,  as  some  have  supposed,  but  to  Cordelia, 
on  v/hoso  lips  the  old  King  is  still  intent,  and  dies  while  he  is  searching 
there  for  indications  of  life. 

"3  Some  question  has  been  made  as  to  Kent's  meaning  here.  He  means, 
to  be  sure,  that  all  the  treasure  he  had  in  life  is  now  gone ;  that  the  death  of 
his  revered  and  beloved  master,  and  of  his  "  kind  and  dear  Princess,"  must 
needs  pluck  him  after.  This  reminds  me  of  Coleridge's  judgment,  th.at 
"  Kent  is  perhaps  the  nearest  to  perfect  goodness  in  all  .Sliakespearo's  char- 
acters. His  |)assionate  affeciion  for,  and  fidelity  to,  Lear  act  on  our  feelings 
in  Le.ar's  own  favour:  virtue  itself  seems  to  be  in  company  with  him." 


l60  KING    LEAR.  ACT  v. 

The  oldest  hath  borne  most :  we  that  are  young 
Shall  never  see  so  much,  nor  live  so  long. 

\_Exeutit,  wWi  a  dead  march. 


CRITICAL    NOTES. 


Act  I.,  Scene  i. 

Page  13.  A'otc,  our  joy. 

Although  our  last,  not  least;  to  whose  young  love 
The  vines  of  France  and  milk  of  Burgundy 
Strive  to  be  interess'd;  Sec.  —  So  the  folio,  except  that  it  has 
"Although  our  last  and  least."  White  prefers  this  reading,  on  the 
ground  that  Cordelia  was  literally  the  smallest  of  the  three  daughters  ; 
"  that  she  was  her  father's  little  pet,  while  her  sisters  were  big,  bold, 
brazen  beauties."  He  makes  a  good  argument  to  the  point,  so  that  I 
find  it  not  easy  to  choose  ;  but  the  phrase  "  though  last,  not  least " 
appears  to  have  been  something  of  a  favourite  with  the  Poet.  The 
quartos  give  the  passage  thus : 

Although  i/ie  last  not  least  in  our  deere  love. 
What  can  you  say  to  win  a  third,  more  opulent 
Than  your  sisters  ? 

P.  14.    For,  by  the  sacred  radiance  of  the  Sun, 

The  mysteries  of  Hecate  and  the  night;  &c.  —  So  the  second 
folio.  Instead  of  mysteries,  the  quartos  have  mistresse ;  the  first  folio, 
miseries. 

P.  .5.    Peace,  Kent! 

Come  not  hctzveen  the  dragon  and  his  wrath: 

I  loved  her  most,  and  thought  to  set  my  rest 

On  her  kind  nursery:  hence,  and  avoid  my  sight!  —  It  is 
somewhat  in  question  whether  the  words  "  hence,  and  avoid  my  sight !  " 
are  addressed  to  Kent  or  to  Cordelia.  But,  surely,  if  they  were  spoken 
to  Cordelia,  she  would  not  remain  in  i)rescnce,  as  she  does.  Moreover, 
as  Heath  observes,  "in  the  next  words  Lear  sends  for  France  and 
Burgundy,  in  order  to  lender  them  his  youngest  daughter,  if  either  of 
them  Would  accept  her  without  a  dowry.     At  such  a  time,  tlicrcfore,  to 


l62  KING    I.EAR. 

drive  her  out  of  his  presence  would  he  a  contradiction  to  his  declared 
intention."  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  urged  that  Kent  has  said  nothing 
to  provoke  so  harsh  a  sentence.  It  is  true,  Kent  has  but  started  in 
his  remonstrance  ;  but  Lear  is  supposed  to  know  his  bold  and  ardent 
temper ;   and  he  might  well  anticipate  what  presently  comes  from  him. 

P.  1 6.  Reverse  t/ij  doom, 

And  in  thy  best  consideration  check 

This  hideous  rashness.  —  So  the  quartos.  The  folio  has  "  re- 
serve thy  state.''    I  find  it  not  easy  to  choose  between  the  two  readings. 

P.  17.    Five  days  zve  d^i  allot  thee,  for  provision 
To  shield  thee  from  diseases  of  the  world  ; 
And,  on  the  sixth,  to  turn  thy  hated  back 
Upon  our  kingdom  :  if,  on  the  tenth  day  follotvitig. 
Thy  banished  trunk  be  found  in  our  dominions, 
The  moment  is  thy  death. — In  the  second  of  these  lines  the 
folio    has    disasters  instead   of  diseases,  which   is  the   reading  of  the 
quartos.     As  Malone  observes,  "  diseases,  in  old  language,  meant  the 
slighter  inconveniences,  troubles,  and  distresses  of  the  world.     The  pro- 
vision that  Kent  could  make  in  five  days  might  in  some  measure  guard 
him  against  the  diseases  of  the  world,  but  could  not  shield  him  from 
its  disasters."  —  In  the  fourth  line.  Collier's  second  folio  substitutes  sev- 
enth for  tenth.     The  change  is  plausible  ;   but,  as  Mr.  Crosby  writes 
me,  "the  King  orders  Kent  on  the  sixth  day  to  turn  his  hated  back, 
and  start ;  and,  as  we  can  hardly  suppose  the  King's  palace,  or  Kent's, 
to  be  on  the  edge  of  the  kingdom,  he  gives  him  three  days  to  get  out 
of  '  our  dominions ' ;   so  that  on  the  tenth  he  shall  have  crossed  the 
line." 

P.  18.    Tear.  Right-noble  Burgundy, 

IVhcn  she  was  dear  to  us,  "uw  did  hold  her  so  ; 
But  no:c'  her  price  is  fall' n.  —  In  the  second  of  these  lines 
the  little  word  did  is  decidedly  in  the  way  ,    and  I  suspect  it  ought  to 
be  got  rid  of  by  printing  "  we  held  hex  so." 

P.  iS.     The  argument  of  your  praise,  balm  of  your  age. 

The  best,  the  dearest,  &c.  —  So  the  folio.  The  quartos  have 
"Most  best,  most  dearest."  Shakespeare,  it  is  true,  often  doubles  the 
superlatives,  as  in  most  best ;  still  I  think  the  fulio  reading  preferable. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  163 

P.  19.  //  is  no  vicious  blot,  nor  other  /oie  in  ess. 
No  unchaste  action,  or  dishonoured  step. 
That  hath  deprived  me  of  your  grace  and  favour  ; 
But  even  the  want  of  that  for  which  I'm  richer,  &c.  —  In- 
stead of  "  nor  other  foulness,"  which  is  from  Collier's  second  folio,  the 
old  copies  have  "  murder,  or  foulness,"  and  "  murther,  or  foulness." 
Murder  is  certainly  a  very  strange  word  for  the  place,  and  for  the  per- 
son speaking :  nevertheless,  on  two  occasions  since  the  new  reading 
came  to  light,  I  have,  though  not  without  grave  misgivings,  retained  the 
old  one,  on  the  ground  that  perhaps  Cordelia  purposely  uses  it  out  of 
place,  as  a  glance  at  the  hyperbolical  absurdity  of  denouncing  her  as 
"  a  wretch  whom  Nature  is  ashamed  to  acknowledge."  But  this  reason 
is  probably  something  strained  and  far-fetched  :  at  all  events,  the  high 
authority  of  Mr.  Furness,  together  with  the  reason  of  the  thing,  has 
induced  me  at  last  to  admit  the  change,  and  to  do  it  heartily.  He  notes 
upon  the  matter  as  follows  :  "  Murder  may  have  been  a  much  less 
heinous  crime  in  Shakespeare's  days  than  at  present,  but  that  it  could 
ever  have  been  of  less  degree  than  foulness  demands  a  faith  that  reason 
without  miracle  can  never  plant  in  me.  Can  a  parallel  instance  of  anti- 
climax be  found  in  Shakesjieare  ?  And  mark  how  admirably  the  lines 
are  balanced :  '  vicious  blot  or  foulness,  unchaste  action  or  dishonour'd 
step.'  "  —  In  the  fourth  line,  the  old  text  reads  "  But  even  for  want "  ; 
for  having  probably  been  repeated  by  mistake.     Ilanmcr's  correction. 

P.  21.    Ye  jewels  of  our  father,  with  wash' d  eyes 

Cordelia  leaves  you.  —  The  old  copies  have  "  The  jewels."  The 
same  misprint  occurs  repeatedly,  the  old  contractions  of  ye  and  the 
being  very  easily  confounded.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  context  readily 
detects  the  error. 


P.  21.  IVho  co\cx  faults,  at  last  shame  them  d-:rides.  —  So  the  quar- 
tos, except  that  ihcy  have  covers.  The  folio  reads  "  at  last  with  shame 
derides." 

Act  I.,  Scene  2. 

P.  23.  Edmund  the  base 

Shitll  t()|i  ih'  IcgitiiitiU,-.  —  Instead  of  tof>  th\  the  (|uartus  have 
tootle,  the  folio,  to'  tic.     Corrected  Ijy  Capeli. 


164  KING    LEAR. 


Act  I.,  Scene  3. 

P.  30.  Now,  by  my  life. 

Old  fools  are  babes  again,  and  must  be  used 
With  checks,  -when,  flatteries  are  seen  abused.  —  Not  in  the  folio 
The  quartos  read  "  with  checkes  as  flatteries  when  they  are  seen  abus'd.'' 
As  it  is  hardly  possible  to  strain  any  fitting  sense  out  of  this,  variou . 
changes  have  been  made  or  proposed.  Warburton  reads  "  With 
checks,  not  flatt'ries,"  and  Jennens,  "  With  checks,  by  flatteries  when 
thefre  seen  abused."  As  the  lines  ending  with  tiscd  and  abused  were 
obviously  meant  for  a  rhyming  couplet,  they  should  properly  both  be 
pentameters,  whereas  the  old  text  makes  the  second  an  Alexandrine. 
By  transposing  lohen,  and  omitting  as  and  they,  we  get  both  sense  and 
metre  right.  Probably  the  Poet's  first  writing  and  his  subsequent  cor- 
rection got  jumbled  together  in  the  printing.  —  When  I  first  so  printed 
the  text,  which  was  something  more  than  a  year  ago,  I  was  not  aware 
that  Dr.  Schmidt  had  made  the  same  conjecture.     1881. 


Act  I.,  Scene  4. 

P.  36.    Come  place  him  here  by  me. 

Or  do  thou  for  hint  stand.  —  In  the  second  of  these  lines,  Or, 
needful  alike  to  sense  and  to  metre,  is  wanting  in  the  old  text. 

P.  37.  No,  faith,  lords  and  great  men  7vill  not  let  me  ;  if  I  had  a 
monopoly  out,  they  would  have  part  on't :  and  ladies  too,  they  ivill  not 
let  me  have  all  fool  to  myself. — This  passage  is  not  in  the  folio,  and 
the  quartos  have  loades  and  lodes  instead  of  ladies.  Some  very  ludi- 
crous contortions  of  argument  have  been  put  forth,  to  sustain  the  old 
reading. 

P.  39.    The  hedge-sparrow  fed  the  ctickoo  so  long, 

That  it  had  its  head  bit  off  by  its  young.  —  Instead  of  its^  the  old 
copies  here  have  //  in  both  places.  Of  course  this  is  an  instance  of  it 
used  possessively.  The  Cambridge  Editors  print  "  had  it  head  bit  off 
by  it  young  ";  though  in  various  other  cases  they  change  it  to  its.  See 
note  on  "  The  innocent  milk  in  its  most  innocent  mouth,"  vol.  vii.  page 
280. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  165 

P.  40.     This  admiration,  sir,  is  much  0'  the  savour 

Of  other  your  tieio  pranks. — One  of  the  quartos  and  the  folio 
have  savour  ;  the  other  quarto  has  favour.  Either  word  suits  the  place 
well  enough  ;    and  modern  editors  differ  in  their  readings. 

P.  41 .    And  in  the  ?nost  exact  regard  support 

The  worship  of  their  natne.  —  The  old  copies  have  "  The  'wor- 
ships of  their  name."  According  to  old  usage,  both  worship  and  name 
should  be  plural,  or  neither. 

P.  44.    Let  me  still  take  away  the  harms  I  fear. 

Not  fear  still  to  be  harm'd.  /  know  his  heart.  —  So  Pope, 
Theobald,  Ilanmer,  Warburton,  and  Singer.  The  old  text  has  taken 
instead  of  harm'd.  Probably  taken  crept  in  by  mistake  from  the  line 
before.  At  all  events,  it  is  clearly  wrong  in  sense  and  metre  too,  while 
harm\i\s  as  clearly  right  in  both. 

P.  44.    And  thereto  add  such  reasotis  of  your  own 
As  tnay  compact  it  more.     So  get  you  gone. 

And  hasten  your  return.  —  The  old  copies  lack  So,  which  was 
inserted  by  Pope. 

P.  44.     This  milky  coicrse  and  gentleness  of  yours. 

Though  I  condemn  it  not,  yet,  under  pardon.  Sec.  —  So  Pope. 
The  old  copies  lack  //,  which  is  needful  alike  to  sense  and  to  metre. 


Act  I.,  Scene  5. 

P.  45.  /f  a  man's  l)rains  7oere  in's  heels,  were't  not  in  danger  of 
kibes? — Pope  changed  brains  to  brain,  z.v\fS.  so  Walker  would  read. 
But  is  not  brains  sometimes  used  as  a  noun  singular  ? 

P.  47.  I'ool.  She  that's  a  maid  noxv,  and  laughs  at  my  departure. 
Shall  not  be  a  maid  long,  unless  things  be  cut  shorter.  —  This 
was,  no  doubt,  an  interpolation  foisted  in  by  some  vulgar  hand  to  tickle 
the  jiruriency  of  the  "  groundlings."  It  is  so  utterly  irrelevant,  withal 
so  out  of  character,  and  so  grossly  petulant,  that  I  can  hardly  bear  to 
let  it  st.md  in  the  text. 


l66  KING    LEAR. 


Act  II.,  Scene  i. 


P.  50.    But  that  I  told  him  the  revenging  gods 

'  Gainst  parricides  did  all  their  thunders  bend.  —  So  the  quartos. 
The  foho  reads  "did  all  the  thunder  bend";  which  some  editors  pre- 
fer :  but,  surely,  a  very  inferior  reading. 

P.  50.    Btit,  wher  he  saw  my  best  alarm" d spirits 

Bold  in  the  quarreVs  right,  roused  to  tV  encounter. 
Or  xvhether  gasted  by  the  noise  I  made. 

Full  suddenly  he  fled.  —  So  Furness,  adopting  a  conjecture  of 
Staunton's.  The  old  text  has  when  instead  of  tuher.  Furness  notes 
the  change  as  "an  emendatio  certissima."'  And  he  adds,  "It  restores 
the  construction,  which  with  when  is  irregular,  and  to  be  explained  only 
'on  the  ground  of  Edmund's  perturbation."  It  is  hardly  needful  to  ob- 
serve that  the  Poet  has  many  instances  of  n'hethcr  thus  contracted  into 
one  syllable.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  10,  note  17. 

P.  51.  Yes,  madam,  he  was  of  that  consort.  —  Collier's  second  folio 
reads  "Yes,  ma.A3.m, yes,  he  was  of  that  consort."  Dyce  proposes  "he 
was  one  of  that  consort."  I  suspect  that  one  of  these  insertions  ought 
to  be  admitted. 

P.  52.    '  77 f  they  have  put  Iiim  on  the  old  man'' s  death. 

To  have  the  waste  and  spoil  of  his  revenues.  —  So  the  quartos. 
The  folio  reads  "  th"  expence  and  zuast  of  his  Revenues." 


Act  II.,  Scene  2. 

P.  54.  If  I  had  thee  in  Finsbury  pinfold,  I  would  make  thee  care  for 
me.  —  So  Collier's  second  folio.  The  old  text  has  Lipsbury  instead  of 
Finsbury.  Jennens  conjectured  Ledbury.  As  there  is  no  such  place 
in  Engk.nd  as  Lipsbury,  that  name  can  hardly  be  right.  Finsbury  was 
the  name  of  a  place  near  London  ;  and  it  is  mentioned  in  /  King 
Henry  the  Fourth,  iii.  i.  It  has  been  urged,  however,  that,  if  lipsbury 
was  not  a  phrase  well  known  in  Shakespeare's  time,  to  imply  gagging, 
he  may  have  coined  it  for  that  purpose  ;  and  that  Kent's  meaning  m.ny 
be,  "where  the  movement  of  thy  lips  should  be  of  no  avail."  So 
"  Lipsbury  pinfold  "  would  mean  a  place  where  neither  Oswald's  legs 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  167 

nor  his  lips  could  help  him,  —  where  he  could  not  run  away,  nor  could 
his  whining  nor  his  yelling  for  help  do  him  any  good.  But  all  this 
seems  to  me  forced  and  far-fetched.  Surely  no  theatrical  audience 
would  have  understood  the  phrase. 

P.  56.    Edm.   How  now .'     What 's  the  matter  ?  [Parting  them. 

Kent.  With  you,  goodman  boy,  if  you  please.  —  The  folio 
reads  "  \Vhat's  the  matter  ?  Part."  Here  Part  was  no  doubt  meant 
as  a  stage-direction,  but  got  printed  as  being  of  the  text.  Such  errors 
are  (juite  frequent.  The  quartos  agree  with  the  folio,  except  that  they 
lack  Part. 

P.  57.    Rcneag,  affirm,  and  turn  their  halcyon  beaks 
With  every  gale  and  vary  of  their  masters. 

As  knoiuing  nought,  like  dogs,  but  following.  —  So  Pope.  The 
old  text  is  without  As  in  the  last  line.  Surely  the  Poet  could  not  have 
intended  such  a  halt  in  the  metre. 

P.  60.  Yoitr  purposed  low  correction 

Is  such  as  basest  and  contemned'st  7vr etches,  &c.  —  This  is  not  in 
the  folicj ;  and  the  quartos  have  temnest  instead  of  contemned'' st.  The 
correction  is  Capell's. 

P.  62.  I  know  His  from  Cordelia, 

Who  hath  most  fortunately  been  informed 

Of  my  obscurhl  course  ;  and  shall  find  time. 

From  this  enormous  state,  seeking,  to  give 

Losses  their  remedies. —  Much  question  has  been  made  as  to 
how  this  difficult  passage  ought  to  be  printed  ;  and  some  editors  print 
the  words,  "  and  shall  fmd  time,  from  this  enormous  state,  seeking, 
to  give  losses  their  remedies,"  as  if  Kent  were  reading  them,  disjoint- 
cdly,  from  Cordelia's  letter.  But  it  appears  that  there  is  not  light 
enough  for  this  ;  and  Kent  longs  to  have  the  dawn  come,  that  he  may 
see  to  read  the  letter.  As  tiie  text  is  here  printed,  shall  find  is  in  the 
same  construction  with  know,  —  "I  know,  and  I  shall  fmd."  See  foot- 
note 30. 

Act  II.,  SciNK  4. 

P.  73.     'I'o  be  a  comrade  with  the  wolf,  and  howl 

Necessity s  sharp  pinch  ! — So  Collier's  second  folio.      I  lie  old 


l68  KING    LEAR. 

text  reads  "  To  be  a  Comrade  with  the  Wolfe,  and  Oivle,  Necessities 
sharpe  pinch."  With  this  reading,  I  see  no  way  but  to  take  "Neces- 
sity's sharp  pinch  "  as  in  apposition  with  the  preceding  clause  ;  the 
sense  being  that  to  be  a  comrade  with  the  wolf  and  owl  is  the  last 
desperate  shift  to  which  the  pinch  of  necessity  might  force  a  man.  So 
that  the  change  here  admitted  is  not  "  absolutely  necessary."  Never- 
theless Mr.  Furness,  who  adopts  hozals,  supports  it  with  such  reasons  as 
carry  my  full  assent.  "  In  the  old  reading,"  says  he,  "  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  '  Ne- 
cessity'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  compan- 
ionship, 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  pas- 
sion ;  it  surges  up  wild  and  threatening,  and  then  when  it  should 
'  thunder  on  the  beach  '  it  subsides  into  a  gentle  apologetic  ripple."  — 
On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Crosby  writes  to  me  strongly  disapproving  the 
change,  and,  in  support  of  the  old  text,  aptly  refers  me  to  ^licah,  i.  8 ; 
at  least  I  suppose  that  is  the  passage  he  means  :  "  Therefore  I  will 
wail  and  howl,  I  will  go  stripped  and  naked :  I  will  make  a  wailing 
like  the  dragons,  and  mourning  as  the  owls."  But  perhaps  he  had  his 
mind  on  Job,  xxx.  29 :  "I  am  a  brother  to  dragons,  and  a  companion 
to  owls."  —  I  have  but  to  add,  that  the  metaphor  of  howling  a  pinch, 
or  a  pang,  does  not  trouble  me  at  all :  it  seems  to  me  both  good  poetry 
and  right  Shakespeare.     See  foot-note  29. 


P.  76.  But,  for  true  need, — 

You  Heavens,  give  me  patience, — patience  I  need  !  —  The  old 
text  reads  "You  Heavens,  give  me  that  patience,  patience  I  need"; 
which  is  only  an  intense  way  of  saying,  "that  patience  which  I  need  "; 
whereas  the  right  sense,  it  seems  to  me,  is,  "  give  me  patience,  that  is 
what  I  need."     The  passage  has  caused  a  deal  of  comment,  and  several 


CRITICAL    NOTES,  169 

changes  have  been  proposed.  Mr.  White  and  some  others  omit  the 
second  patience  ;  which  is  a  greater  change  than  I  make,  while  it  seems 
to  miss  the  right  sense.  Walker  would  read,  "  Vou  Heavens,  give  me 
patience  !  — that  I  need,"  according  to  Ritson's  suggestion. 

Act  III.,  Scene  i. 

p.  78.  Sir,  I  do  ktioiu  you  ; 

And  dare,  upon  the  warrant  of  tny  note. 

Commend  a  dear  thing  to  you.  —  So  the  folio.  The  quartos  read 
"  upon  the  warrant  of  my  arte."  Some  editors  prefer  the  quarto  read- 
ing, explaining  it  "  my  skill  io  find  the  mind^s  construction  in  the  face." 
But  it  appears  that  Kent  "  knows  his  man,"  and  therefore  has  no  occa- 
sion to  use  the  skill  in  question.     See  foot-nole  3. 

P.  78.     Who  have  —  as  who  have  not,  that  their  great  stars 
Throne  and  set  high  ?  —  servants,  who  seem  no  less, 
IVhich  are  to  France  the  spies  and  speculators 
Intelligent  of  our  State.  —  Not  in  the  ([uartos.     The  folio,  in  the 
second  line,  has  Thron'd  instead  of  Throne.     Corrected  by  Theobald. 
Also,  in  the  third  line,  the  folio  has  speculations.     Johnson  thought  it 
should  be  speculators,  and  Singer's  second  folio  has  it  so.     As  the  word 
evidently  refers  to  persons,  can  there  be  any  doubt  about  it  ? 

Act  III.,  Scene  2. 

P.  82.  That  keep  this  dreadful  pudder  o'er  our  heads.  —  So  the  folio. 
Instead  o{ pudder,  one  of  the  quartos  has  1  hundring,  the  o\\\ct powthcr, 
which  is  probably  an  old  spelling  o{  pother. 

P.  83.    Thou  perjured,  and  thou  simular  of  virtue 

That  art  incestuous.  —  So  the  folio.  The  quartos  have  "  thou 
simular  man  uf  virtue."     See  foot-note  13. 

I'.  84.  This  is  a  brave  night.  Til  speak  a  prophecy  ere  I  go.  —  This, 
and  what  follows  down  to  the  end  of  the  scene,  is  not  in  the  quartos. 
Mr.  (irant  White  regards  the  whole  as  an  interpolation.  "This  loving, 
faithful  creature,"  says  he,  "  would  not  let  liis  old  master  go  off  half- 
crazed  into  that  storm,  that  he  might  stop,  and  utter  such  pointless  and 


lyO  KING    LEAR. 

uncalled-for  imitation  of  Chaucer."  In  this  opinion  I  fully  concur. 
For  the  whole  passage,  besides  being  a  stark  impertinence  dramati- 
cally, is  as  unlike  Shakespeare  as  it  is  unlike  the  Fool ;  unlike  Shake- 
speare, I  mean,  in  poetical  texture  and  grain. 

Act  III.,  Scene  4. 

P.  89.  Take  heed  0'  the  foul  fiend :  obey  thy  parents  ;  keep  thy  word 
justly.  —  The  quartos  read  "  keepe  ihy  7vords  justly  ";  the  folio,  "  keep 
thy  words  Justice.''''     The  second  folio  changes  words  to  word. 

P.  9 1 .  N'oiv  a  little  fire  in  a  wide  field  were  like  an  old  lecher's  heart, 
&c.  — The  old  editions  have  "in  a  7vilde  field";  upon  which  Walker 
notes  as  follows:  "  Read  wide ;  see  context.  And  so  the  1770  edition 
of  King  Lear,  '  collated  with  the  old  and  modern  editions  ' ;  with  a 
note,  '  All  editions  read  wild;  but  7oide  is  better  opposed  to  little.''''' 
"The  1770  edition"  was  by  Jennens. 

P.  91.  Saint  Withold  footed  thrice  the  'old,  &c.  —  So  Theobald,  and 
so  the  metre  evidently  requires.  Instead  of  Saint  Withold,  tlie  old  text 
has  swithold  and  Swithold.  S.  is  the  old  abbreviation  for  saint,  and 
the  Poet  probably  wrote  .S*.  Withold. 

P.  96.  IIe''s  mad  that  trusts  in  the  lameness  of  a  wolf,  a  horse' s'hesXXh, 
a  Iwv's  love,  &c.  —  So  all  the  old  editions.  Several  commentators  are 
very  positive  it  should  be  "a  horse's  heels  ";  there  being  an  old  proverb 
in  Ray's  Collection,  "Trust  not  in  a  horse's  heels,  nor  a  dog's  tooth." 
But  men  that  way  skilled  know  it  is  about  as  unsafe  to  trust  in  the 
soundness  of  a  horse  as  in  the  other  things  mentioned  by  the  Fool. 

P.  96.  CoDie,  sit  thou  here,  most  Awr^tv/ justicer.  —  The  quartos  have 
justice  instead  oijusticer.  Further  on,  however,  they  "hsive  justicer. — 
This  part  of  the  scene,  l^eginning  with  "  The  foul  fiend  bites  my  back," 
down  to  "  Bless  thy  five  wits,"  is  wanting  in  the  folio. 

P.  97.  Come  o'er  the  bourn,  Bessy,  to  me.  — The  cjuartos  have  brootne 
instead  of  bourn.     Not  in  the  folio. 

P.  99.  Hound  or  spaniel,  brach  or  lym.  —  The  old  copies  have  Him 
and  Hym  instead  of  lym.     Corrected  by  Hanmer.  ^ 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  I7I 

P.  100.    This  rest  might  yet  have  balin\l  thy  broken  senses, 
Which,  if  convenience  will  not  allow, 

Stand  in  hard  cure.  —  So  Theobald.  The  speech  is  not  in  the 
folio  ;  and  the  quartos  have  sinews  instead  of  senses.  White,  Dyce, 
and  the  Cambridge  Editors  retain  sine'ws.  But,  surely,  senses  is  right. 
And  the  same  speaker  has  said,  a  little  before,  "  All  the  power  of  his 
wits  have  given  way  to  his  impatience."  .-Vnd  again,  "his  zoits  are 
gone."  Can  there  be  any  doubt  that  he  means  the  same  thing  here  ? 
Moreover,  Lear  has  no  liroken  sinezos  ;  he  is  out  of  his  senses  ;  that 
is,  his  wits  are  broken.  Besides,  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.  So  in  Macbeth,  ii.  i  :  "  Innocent 
sleep,  balm  of  hurt  mindsP — Since  the  above  was  first  printed,  Mr. 
Furness's  grand  Variorum  of  King  Lear  has  appeared.  He  retains 
sinews  on  the  ground  that  "the  change  is  not  absolutely  necessary"; 
yet  he  admits  several  changes  which,  in  all  fair  judgment,  are  at  least 
as  far  from  being  absolutely  necessary.  In  a  later  scene  we  have  "  Th' 
untuned  and  jarring  senses,  O,  wind  up  of  this  child-changed  father !  " 
and  I  must  needs  think  that  sinews  would  be  as  fitting  here  as  in  the 
other  place.  But  what  weighs  most  with  me  is,  that  the  interest  of  this 
mighty  delineation  centres  altogether  upon  Lear's  inner  man,  the  tem- 
pest in  his  mind  ;  that  which  Ijeats  upon  his  body  hardly  touching  us 
at  all.  As  Lamb  says,  "This  case  of  flesh  and  blood  seems  too  insigni- 
ficant to  be  thought  on  ;  even  as  he  himself  neglects  it."  And  is  it  to 
be  supposed  that  Kent  iiioie  compassionates  Lear's  wearied  limlis 
than  "  this  great  breach  in  his  abused  nature  "? 

P.  100.     When  false  opinion,  whose  wrong  \}no\x^\.  ^Q^t.%  thee, 

In  thy  just  proof  repeals  and  reconciles  thee.  —  So  Theobald. 
This  speech  is  not  in  the  folio  ;  and  the  quartos  have  thoughts  defile. 
i5ut  a  rhyme  was  probably  intended.  —  It  may  be  well  to  add  Heath's 
explanation  of  the  passage  :  "  Observe  the  event  of  those  disturbances 
that  arc  now  on  foot,  and  discover  thyself  when  the  present  false  opin- 
ion entertained  (jf  thee,  which  stains  thy  reputation  with  a  crime  of 
which  th(ju  art  innocent,  being  convicted  by  thy  full  proof,  repeals  thy 
jjresent  banishment  from  society,  and  reconciles  thee  to  thy  father." 
Of  the  whole  speech  I  can  but  say  that  I  do  not  believe  Shakes])eare 
wrote  a  word  of  it.  The  workmanship,  in  all  points,  smacks  of  a  very 
different  hand.  The  Cambridge  lulitors  note  upon  it,  "internal  evidence 
is  conclusive  against  the  su|)position  that  the  lines  were  written  by 
Shakespeare." 


172  KING    LEAR. 

P.  104.    All  crtieh  else  subscribe,  but  I  shall  see 

The  ivingid  vengeance  overtake  such  children.  —  So  the  folio, 
except  that  it  has  a  colon  after  subscribe.  But  the  old  editions  have 
many  instances  of  a  colon  where  no  one  would  now  think  of  using  any 
thing  but  a  comma.  Instead  of  subscribe,  the  quartos  have  subscribed, 
.  out  of  which  it  seems  hardly  possible  to  get  any  fitting  or  even  intelli- 
gible meaning,  as  appears  by  the  perfect  muddle  of  explanations  it  has 
called  forth.  Yet  that  reading  has  been  strangely  preferred  by  nearly 
all  the  more  recent  editors.  Mr.  Grant  White,  I  think,  was  the  first  to 
propose  setting  a  comma  for  the  colon.     See  foot-note  12. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  i. 

P.  106.     Yet  better  thus,  unknown,  to  be  contemn' d. 

Than  still  contemned  and  flatter'' d.  —  So  Collier's  second  folio  ; 
as  Johnson  had  conjectured,  and  Tyrwhitt  and  Malone  approved.  The 
old  copies  read  "  Yet  better  thus,  and  knoiane  to  be  contemn'd." 

P.  107.  Full  oft  'tis  seen. 

Our  maims  secure  us,  and  our  mere  defects 

Prove  our  commodities.  —  Instead  of  maitns,  the  old  copies 
have  means  ;  which  may  possibly  be  explained  somewhat  thus:  "The 
having  what  we  desire  makes  us  reckless,  while  privation  or  adversity 
sobers  us."  This  takes  secure  in  the  sense  of  the  Latin  securus,  negli- 
gent or  presumptuous.  But  this,  to  say  the  least,  seems  a  harsh  and 
strained  interpretation.  Pope  reads  "  Our  mean  secures  us."  Collier's 
second  folio  substitutes  7oants  for  means,  and  Singer  proposes  needs. 
Walker  says,  "  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Johnson's  maims  is  the 
right  reading."     See  foot-note  6. 

P.  109.  Five  fiends  have  been  in  poor  Tom  at  once ;  as  Obidicut, 
of  lust;  Ilobbididetice,  prince  of  dumbness  ;  &c.  —  So  Walker.  The  old 
text  has  an  awkward  inversion,  of  lust,  as  Obidicut.  The  passage  is 
not  in  the  folio. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  2 

P.  113.    If  that  the  Heavens  do  not  their  visible  spirits 
Send  quickly  dow7i  to  tame  these  vile  offences. 
It  will  come,  &c. — This  speech  is  not  in  the  folio;    and  the 

quartos  have  the  and  this  instead  of  these.     The  limiting  force  of  the 

demonstrative  is  clearly  required  by  the  context. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  1 73 

P.  113.    France  spreads  his  banners  in  our  noiseless  land. 

With  pliimhl  helm  thy  state  begins  to  threat  ;  &c.  —  The  old 
copies  have  "  thy  slayer  begin  threats"  "  thy  slater  begins  threats,"  and 
"  thy  state  begins  thereat."  The  reading  in  the  text  was  first  given 
by  Jennens,  and  is  adopted  by  Staunton,  the  Cambridge  Editors,  and 
Mr.  Furness. 

P.  114.    Thou  changed  and  %c\-co\tx^d  thi}ig,  for  shame, 

Be-monster  tiot  thy  feature  !  —  The  old  text  has  "  selfe-cover^d 
thing,"  out  of  which  it  is  hardly  possible  to  extract  any  fitting  sense. 
Theobald  reads  "Thou  changed  o.nd  self  converted  i\\mg"  ;  which  does 
not  really  better  the  passage  at  all.  Other  readings  have  been  pro- 
posed, as  "  changed  and  'SQ\{-discover\i,"  and  "  chang'd  and  i>^l-uncov- 
er\ir  The  emendation  here  adopted  (and  I  deem  it  of  the  first  class) 
was  proposed  to  me  by  Mr.  Joseph  Crosby.     See  foot-notes  12  and  13. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  3. 

P.  116.  This  scene  is  wanting  altogether  in  the  folio.  As  it  is,  both 
poetically  and  physiognomically,  one  (jf  the  best  in  the  play,  the  purpose 
of  the  omission  could  hardly  have  been  other  than  to  shorten  the  time 
of  representation  ;  which  would  infer  the  folio  to  have  been  printed 
from  a  stage  copy. 

P.  116.  .\y,  sir  ;  she  took  them,  read  them  in  my  presence  ;  &c.  —  So 
Theobald.  The  old  copies  have  "  /  say  she."  The  affirmative  ay  was 
very  often  printed  /. 

P.  117.  You  have  seen 

Sunshine  and  rain  at  once  ;  her  smiles  and  tears 
IVere  like:  a  better  way, — those  happy  smilets,  &c. —  Such, 
literally,  is  the  reading  of  all  the  (juartos  ;  which  has  been  unnecessa- 
rily and  dangerously  tampered  with  and  tinkered  in  most  of  modern 
editions  ;  some  reading  "  like  a  better  May  "  /  some,  "  like  a  wetter 
May  "  ,•  and  some,  "  like  a  better  day."  But  the  old  reading  is  assur- 
edly right.  The  sense  is  clearly  completed  at  like,  and  should  there  be 
cut  off  from  what  follows,  as  it  is  in  the  text  :  "  Vou  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  anoth<.'i 
mode  of  illu.->tratioa  :  "To  speak  it  in  a  better  way,  llmse  happy  smilel-s," 


174  KING    LEAR. 

&c.  And  I  insist  upon  it,  that  the  passage  so  read  is  better  poetry,  as 
well  as  better  sense  and  better  logic,  than  with  7vay  turned  into  day  or 
Jl/ay,  and  made  an  adjunct  or  tag  to  like.  The  pointing  here  given 
was  suggested  by  Boaden. 

P.  117.  /n  brief,  sir,  sormu 

Would  be  a  rarity  most  beloved,  if  all,  &c.  —  So  Capell  and 
Walker.     The  old  text  is  without  sir. 

P.  117.  What,  ?'  the  storm  ■:'  V  the  night? 

Let  pity  not  believe  it !      There  she  shook 
■    The  holy  zvater  from  her  heavenly  eyes, 
And,  clamour-moisten'd,  then  away  she  started 
To  deal  with  grief  alone. —  In  the  second  of  these  lines,  the 
quartos  read  "  Let  pitie  not  be  beleeft,"  and  "  Pet  pitty  not  be  beleeii'd.'" 
Jennens  reads  as  in  the  text ;    and   I  think  sense  and  prosody  plead 
alike  for  the  correction.  —  In  the  fourth  line,  I  adopt  the  reading  and 
punctuation   given  by  White.     The    old    copies    have  "  And    clamour 
moistened  her  ";  her  having  probably  been  repeated  by  mistake  from 
the  line  above.    Theobald  reads  "  And,  c\a.mou.T-motion'd,  then  away  she 
started."    The  more  common  reading  is  "  And  clamour  moisten'd :   then 
away,"  &c.     I  cannot  pronounce  White's  text  altogether  satisfactory ; 
but,  on  the  whole,  it  seems  to  me  the  best,  both  in  sense  and  in  lan- 
guage, that  has  been  offered.     Nor  do  I  well  see  how  it  can  be  bettered 
without  taking  too  great  liberties  with  the  old  text. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  4. 

P.  118.    Crown' d  with  rank  fumiter  and fiirro-iu-weeds. 

With  burdocks,  hemlock,  nettles,  cuckoo-flowers,  &c.  —  In  the 
first  of  these  lines,  the  quartos  \\a.vQ  fe?7nter,  the  folio  Femitar,  instead 
oi  fumiter.  In  the  second  line,  the  quartos  have,  instead  of  burdocks, 
hoar-docks,  and  hor-docks ;  the  folio,  Hardokes.  The  correction  is 
Hanmer's.  Heath  says,  "  I  believe  we  should  read  burdocks,  which 
frequently  grow  among  corn." 

P.  119.    '  Tis  known  before  ;  our  preparation  stands 
In  expectation  of  them.  —  O  dear  father, 
It  is  thy  business  that  I  go  about ; 
Therefore  great  France 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  1/5 

My  mourning  and  important  tears  hath  pitied. 
Ao  bloiun  ambition  doth  our  arms  incite, 
But  love,  dear  love,  and  our  aged  father's  right: 
Soon  may  T  hear  and  see  him  !  —  In  this  speech,  again,  all  after 
'■'  expectation  of  them  "  is,  I  am  sure,  an  interpolation  by  some  other 
hand.     It  has  not  the  flavour  either  of  Shakespeare  or  of  Cordelia. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  6. 


P.  122.  The  murmuring  surge. 

That  on  th''  unnuml>er\i  idle  pebbles  chafes, 

Cannot  be  heard  so  high.     Pll  look  no  more  ; 

Lest  7ny  brain  turn,  and  the  deficient  sight 

Topple  doivn  headlong.  —  So  Pope.  The  quartos  have  "  idle 
peebles  chafe'';  the  folio,  "  idle /^/^<5/^  chafes."  —  In  the  f.nirth  line, 
Mr.  Daniel  Jefferson,  of  Boston,  suggests  to  me  that  \vc  ought  to  read 
"  and  through  deficient  .sight."  As  the  Poet  may  well  have  written  thro, 
and  as  this  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  the,  I  suspect  Mr.  Jefferson  is 
right. 

P.  124.  Ten  wrtiA  at  each  7nahe  not  the  altitude,  &.c. — The  phrase 
at  each  has  troubled  the  editors,  and  various  changes  have  been  made 
or  proposed,  most  of  them  not  worth  specifying.  Pope  reads  "  Ten 
masts  attacht";  which  seems  to  me  the  best  of  them,  except,  perhajis, 
a-stretcht,  proposed  by  Jennens.     See  foot-note  7. 

P.  126.  To  say  ay  and  no  to  every  thing  that  I  said  ay  and  no  to 
was  no  good  divinity.  —  The  old  copies  differ  in  the  pointing  of  this 
passage  ;  but  such  is  the  literal  reading,  except  that  they  have  toe  and 
too  instead  of  the  last  to.  But  we  have  many  instances  of  too  and  to 
confounded.  The  passage  is  commonly  printed  thus:  "To  say  ay  and 
no  to  every  thing  that  I  said  !  — .//  and  no  too  was  no  good  divinity." 
This  may  have  a  meaning,  but  I  have  tried  in  vain  to  understand  it. 
See  foot-n(jtc  15. 

P.  1 28.  Were  all  the  letters  suns,  I  could  not  see.  —  So  the  folio,  ex- 
cept that  it  has  "////  Letters."  The  ([uartos  read  "  I  could  not  see  one": 
which  I  cannot  well  understand  how  anybody  should  jjrcfer.  The 
quartos  have  "  the  letters." 


17^  KING    LEAR. 

P.  129.  Through  /a//t'r'</ clothes  small  vices  do  appear.  —  The  quar- 
tos read  "through  tattered  raggcs  small  vices";  the  folio,  " thorough 
tatter'd  cloathes^r^a/  vices." 

P-  129.  Plate  sin  with  gold, 

And  the  strong  latice  of  justice  hurtless  breaks.  —  This  is  not  in 
the  quartos  ;    and  the  folio  has  Place  sinnes.     Corrected  by  Pope. 

P.  130.    When  we  are  born,  rue  cry  that  we  are  co/ne 

To  this  great  stage  of  fools.  —  'Tis  a  good  block  :  &c.  —  So  Rit- 
son.     The  old  copies  have  "  This  a  good  blocke."     See  foot-note  28. 

P-  130-  Let  me  have  a  surgeon  ; 

I'm  ctit  to  th'  brains. — The  quartos  read  "Let  me  have  a 
chirurgeon'";  such  being  the  old  form  of  surgeon;  the  folio,  "  Let  me 
have  Surgeons." 

P.  130.    To  use  his  eyes  for  garden  water-pots. 

Ay,  and  for  laying  Autumn's  dust.  —  So  the  quartos,  except 
that  they  lacky^r  in  the  second  line.  The  folio  here  gives  a  somewhat 
different  text,  thus  : 

To  use  his  eyes  for  Garden  water-pots.  I  wil  die  bravely, 
Like  a  smugge  Bridegroome.  What  ?  I  will  be  Joviall  : 
Come,  come,  I  am  a  King,  Masters,  know  you  that  ? 

P.  132.  A  most  poor  man,  made  tame  io  fortune's  blorus.  —  So  the 
folio.     The  quartos  read  "  made  lame  by  fortunes  blowes." 

P-  ^Z3-  Seek  him  out 

Upon  the  English  party. —  O,  untimely  death  ! — The  old  edi- 
tions repeat  death. 

P.  134.  O  undistinguish'd  space  of  woman's  will! — The  quartos 
have  wit  instead  of  will,  the  folio  reading  ;  while  the  folio  has  indis- 
tinguish'd.     See  foot-note  42. 


Act  IV.,  Scene  7. 

P.  135.  Yet  to  be  known  shortens  my  main  intent.  —  So  Collier's  sec- 
ond folio.  The  old  text  has  made  instead  of  main.  I  do  not  lay  much 
stress  on  what  some  consider  the  bad  English  of  tnade  intent,  because, 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  I77 

though  it  sounds  odd  to  us,  it  may  be  justified  by  the  usage  of  Shake- 
speare's time,  so  far  as  regards  the  language,  on  the  ground  of  its  mean- 
ing "the  intention  which  I  have  formed."  But  such,  it  seems  to  me,  is 
not  the  right  sense.     See  foot-note  3. 

P.  136.    Gent.    Ay, /uadam  ;  in  the  heaviness  of  his  sleep 
IVe  put  fresh  garments  on  him. 

Doct.  Be  by,  good  madam,  when  %ue  do  awake  him  : 
I  doubt  not  of  his  temperance.  —  Such  is  the  usual  assignment 
of  these  speeches,  and  it  is  clearly  right.  To  the  first  of  them  one 
quarto  prefi.xes  "Doct.,"  and  to  the  second  "Kent."  The  other  quarto 
prefi.xes  "Doct."  to  the  first,  and  "Gent."  to  the  second.  The  folio  runs 
both  speeches  into  one,  and  prefi.xes  "Getit." 

P.  136.    O  my  dear  father,  restoration  hang 

Thy  medicine  on  my  lips  ! —  Such  is  the  reading  of  all  the  old 
copies ;  and  I  like  it  the  better  that  it  makes  Thy  refer  to  father. 
Modern  editions  generally  print  "  f )  my  dear  father !  Restoration, 
hang,"  &c.;    which  makes  77/1'  refer  to  Restoration.     See  foot-note  7. 

P.  138.    I  am  a  very  foolish  fond  old  7nan, 

Fourscore  and  upiuard,  not  an  hour  more  nor  less  ;  &c.  —  The 
words  "  not  an  hour  more  nor  less  "  are  found  only  in  the  folio.  Some 
editors  have  rejected  them  as  a  probable  interpolation,  l)ecause  of  their 
being  nonsensical.  The  nonsense  of  them,  indicating,  as  it  does,  some 
remains  of  Lear's  disorder,  is  the  very  reason  why  they  should  be  re- 
tained. 

P.  138.    Be  comforted,  good  madam  .    the  great  rage. 

You  see,  is  cured  in  him.  —  So  the  quartos.  Instead  cf  cured, 
the  folio  has  kilVd,  which  some  editors  prefer,  —  rather  strangely,  I 
think.  Collier  conjectured  quelTd.  But  what  need  of  any  thing  better 
than  cured  ? 

Act  v.,  Scene  2. 
P.  144.    /fever  /return  to  you  again, 
/Ul  bring  you  comfort. 

Glos.  Grace  go  with  you,  sir  !     [Exit  EnnAR. 

Alarm  and  retreat  within.      Re-enter  E|)i:ak. 
Edg.    .Iway,  old  man  ;  give  me  thy  hand ;  away  !  &c. —  I 
have  had  no  little  ado  to  refrain  from  adopting  the  arrangement  pro- 


178  KING    LEAR. 

posed  by  Mr.  Spedding,  which  would  make  the  fourth  Act  end  with  the 
exit  of  Edgar,  and  the  fifth  Act  begin  with  his  re-entrance.  Mr.  Sped- 
ding's  argument  in  support  of  the  change  is  quite  too  long  for  this 
place  ;  and  so  close-packed  withal  in  statement,  as  hardly  to  admit  of 
much  condensation :  so  that  I  must  content  myself  with  referring  the 
student  to  it  as  given  in  Mr.  Furness's  Variorum.  I  can  but  add  that, 
as  regards  the  point  of  dramatic  and  artistic  order,  the  reason  of  the 
thing  is,  it  seems  to  me,  altogether  in  favour  of  the  change  ;  but  yet 
custom  and  association  stand  so  strong  for  the  old  order,  that  probably 
it  ought  not  to  be  disturbed,  at  least  not  till  the  matter  has  been  more 
widely  considered  and  passed  upon.  I  have  conferred  with  Mr.  Crosl)y 
upon  the  subject,  and  he  fully  approves  the  course  I  have,  after  much 
rellection,  concluded  to  take. 

Act  v..  Scene  3. 

P.  144.    For  thee,  oppressed  A'iii^',  ai)i  I  east  down  ; 

Myself  could  else  oui-froivji  false  Fortune'' s  froum.  —  Another 
interpolation,  I  have  scarce  any  doubt.  It  is  not  rightly  in  character 
for  Cordelia  to  be  prating  thus  of  the  self-sacrilices  she  is  making.  The 
rhyme  too  is  out  of  place.  Read  the  speech  without  the  couplet,  and 
see  how  much  better  and  truer  it  is. 

P.  148.  Dispose  of  them,  of  me  ;  yea,  all  is  thine.  —  This  is  not  in  the 
quartos  ;  and  the  first  folio  reads  "  the  loalls  is  thine."  Hanmer  prints 
"  they  all  are  thine."  The  reading  in  the  te,\t  is  Lettsom's.  The  com- 
mon reading  is,  "  the  walls  are  thine";  and  the  common  explanation 
tells  us  it  is  a  metaphor  taken  from  the  camp  ;  and  means  "  to  surren- 
der at  discretion." 

P.  150.     Yet  am  I  noble  as  the  adversary 

I  come  to  cope.  —  So  the  folio.  The  quartos  have  "  I  come  to 
£ope  withal.''^  The  addition  is  needless,  to  say  the  least,  as  the  Poet 
elsewheiC  uses  cope  as  a  transitive  verb. 

P.  150.    Behold,  it  is  the  privilege  of  mme.  honour.s. 

My  oath,  and  my  profession  :  &c.  — The  quartos  read  "  it  is  the 
privilege  of  my  tongue''''  ;  the  folio,  "it  is  my  privilege,  "^''ne:  privilege 
of  mine  honours,"  &c.  The  latter  reading  probably  arose  from  an  error 
and  the  correction  of  it  being  printed  together. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  1/9 

P.  151.     IVhat  safe  and  nicely  I  might  well  delay 

By  rule  of  knighthood,  I  disdain  and  spurn.  —  Unless  we  here 
suppose  a  i)ietty  bold  ellipsis,  the  speaker  says  just  the  reverse  of  what 
he  means.  The  language  would  come  right  by  substituting  demand 
for  delay,  or  some  similar  word.  The  si)caker  begins  by  saying  "  In 
wisdom  I  should  ask  thy  name.""  So,  with  demand,  the  meaning  would 
be,  "The  kno~wledge  \s\\\^  I  might  safe  and  nicely,"  &c.  But  possi- 
bly the  text  may  be  right  as  it  is.     See  foot-note  23. 

P.  151.  (jon.  O,  save  him,  save  him! —  This  is  practice,  Gloster  : 
&c.  —  So  Theobald.  The  old  copies  are  without  O,  and  assign  "  Save 
him,  save  him  !  "  to  Albany.  Theobald  notes,  "  'Tis  absurd  that  Albany, 
who  knows  of  Edmund's  treason,  and  of  his  own  wife's  passion  for  him, 
should  be  solicitous  to  have  his  life  saved."  I  may  add  that  Albany 
has  most  evidently  been  wishing  that  Edmund  might  fall  in  the  combat. 
Walker  says,  "  Theobald  was  right  in  giving  the  words  '  O,  save  him, 
save  him,'  (as  he  properly  read)  to  Goneiil." 

P.  151.    Alb.  Shut  yon r  motith,  dame. 

Or  with  this  paper  shall  I  stop  it.  —  [To  Edgar.]    Hold,  sir  ! 
—  [To   GoN.]     Thou  worse  than  any  name,  read  thine  own 

evil  : 
No  tearing,  lady  ;  I  perceive  you  know  it. 

Con.    Say,  if  I  do,  the  laws  are  mine,  not  thine  : 
Who  can  arraign  me  for'' t?  [Exit. 

Alb.  Most  monstrous  !     O  !  — 

Know' St  thou  this  paper  ?  [f  )ffers  the  letter  to  Edmund. 

Edm.    Ask  me  not  what  I  knoiv. 
Alb.    Go  after  her :  she's  desperate  ;  govern  her. 

[To  an  Officer,  who  goes  out. 
I'.diii.  [Tu  EncAK. ]  IVhiil  you  have  charged  me  'with,  &c. — 
I  h'.re  follow  the  order  and  distribution  of  the  speeches  as  given  in  the 
folio.  The  quartos  keep  Goneril  on  the  stage  till  after  the  speech, 
"  Ask  me  not  what  I  know,"  which  they  assign  to  her.  According  to 
this  arrangement,  the  words,  "  Thou  worse  than  any  name,"  &c.,  are 
addressed  to  Edmund  :  but  1  hardly  think  .Vlbany  would  say  to  him 
"read  thine  own  evil,"  when  that  evil  was  properly  Goneril's.  More- 
over, this  arrangement  supposes  the  words,  "  Know'st  thou  this  ])apcr  ?" 
to  be  addressed  to  Goneril.     But  it  does  not  seem  likely  that  Albany 


l80  KING    LEAR. 

would  asK.  her  such  a  question  ;  for  he  knows  the  letter  to  be  her  writ- 
ing :  besides,  he  has  just  said  to  her,  "  I  perceive  you  know  it."  Of 
course  I  take  the  words  "  Hold,  sir,"  as  a  request  or  an  order  to  Edgar 
to  abstain  from  further  action  against  Edmund  ;  and  such,  I  think,  is 
the  natural  sense  of  them.  Hold !  was  indeed  the  common  exclamation 
for  arresting  a  combat  in  such  cases,  when  it  was  thought  to  have  pro- 
ceeded far  enough.  So  in  Macbeth,  v.  8. :  "  Lay  on,  Macduff ;  and 
damn'd  be  he  that  first  cries  Flold,  enough  .'"'  And  again  in  i.  5  :  "Nor 
Heaven  peep  through  the  blanket  of  the  dark,  to  cry  Hold,  hold  P'' 
See  foot-note  26. 

152.    Edg.  Lefs  exchange  charity. 

I  am  no  less  in  blood  than  thou  art,  Edmund  : 
If  more,  the  more  thou'st  wronged  nie.  —  The  old  text  prints  the 
last  of  these  lines  thus :  "  If  morp,  the  more  tli'  hast  wrong\l  me." 
Here  tK  hast  is  the  old  contraction  of  thou  hast.  The  line  is  commonly 
printed  "If  more,  the  more  thou  hast  7orong'd  me."  Here  the  line, 
besides  being  short  by  one  foot,  is  utterly  unrhythmical,  insomuch  that 
it  cannot  be  pronounced  as  metre  at  all.  In  the  text,  the  line  is  made 
rhythmical,  though  still  one  foot  short.  Perhaps  it  should  be  "  If  more, 
the  more,  then,  thou  hast  wronged  me."  Or,  possibly,  "  the  worser 
thou  hast  wronged  me." 

P.  153.  O,  our  lives''  sweetness  ! 

That  with  the  pain  of  death  we'd  hourly  die, 
I\  a  titer  than  die  at  once  !  —  The  quartos  read  "That  with  the 
pain  of  death  wotild  hourly  die  "  ;  the  folio,  "That  we  the  pain  of  death 
'cvould  h.o\xx\y  dye."     The  reading  in  the  text  is  Malone's. 

P.  154.     Whilst  Izvas  big  in  clamour,  came  there  a  matt 

JVho,  having  seen  me  in  my  toorst  estate,  &c. — This  speech  is 
not  in  the  folio  ;  and  the  quartos  read  "  came  there  in  a  man  "  ;  in 
being  probably  repeated  by  mistake. 

P.  154.    He  fastened  ott  my  neck,  and  bellow' d  out. 

As  he^d  burst  heaven  ;  threw  him  on  my  father.  —  The  quartos 
have  "  threw  me  on  my  father."  An  obvious  error,  corrected  by  Theo- 
bald. 


CRITICAL    KOTES.  l8l 

P.  156.  Howl,  howl,  howl,  howl!  0,you  are  fneti  ^  stone  :  &c. — 
The  old  editions  have  "  men  of  j/ijw^j."  Pope's  correction.  \Ve  have 
the  same  misprint  again  in  King  Richai-d the  Third,  iii.  7  :  "T  am  not 
made  of  Stones,  but  penetrable  to  your  kind  entreats."  Here  all  mod- 
ern editions,  so  far  as  I  know,  print  stone ;  though  some  still  cling  to 
the  reading,  "you  are  men  ol  stones P 

P.  157.    If  Fortune  brag  of  t700  she  loved  and  hated. 

One  of  them  ye  behold.  —  The  old  text  has  "  One  of  them  we 
behold."  This  of  course  makes  one  refer  to  the  King,  whereas  it  should 
probably  refer  to  the  speaker  himself.  Jennens  reads  "  One  of  them 
you  behold."  But,  as  Mr.  Furness  notes,  ye  seems  better,  "  as  more  in 
accordance  with  the  ducttts  literarumP  Mr.  Crosby  explains  the  old 
text  as  follows  :  "  I  doubt  whether  the  w  orld  can  produce  tivo  such 
instances  of  Fortune's  favours  and  reverses  as  we  see  before  us  in  the 
King  :  whether  or  not  she  can  brag  of  two  such,  one  at  least  we  now 
jjehold,  which  must  ])e  regarded  as  supreme  until  we  find  it  mated  by 
another." 

P.  157.  'Tis  a  dull  light.  Are  you  not  A'ent F —  The  folio  reads 
"  This  is  a  dull  sight."  The  words  are  not  in  the  quartos.  It  does 
not  well  appear  what  sight  can  refer  to  here.  And  the  question,  "are 
you  not  Kent?"  naturally  infers  that  Lear  thinks  the  light  is  growing 
di»i.  The  long  s  and  /  were  apt  to  be  confounded.  The  change  is 
from  CoUier's  second  folio.  —  Both  sense  and  metre  are  against  the 
reading   7'his  is.  —  See  foot-note  36. 


1 


TIMON    OF   ATHENS. 


FIRST  published  in  the  foho  of  1623,  and  certainly  one  of  the 
worst-printed,  perhaps  the  very  worst,  of  all  the  plays  in 
that  volume :  the  text  being,  in  many  places,  so  shockingly  dis- 
figured, so  full  of  gaps  and  refractory  errors,  as  to  try  an  editors 
judgment  and  patience  to  the  uttermost.  The  original  is  with- 
out any  marking  of  the  Acts  and  scenes,  save  that  at  the  begin- 
ning we  have  ^'  Actus  Primus,  Saetia  Prima" ;  and  at  the  end 
is  given  a  list,  incomplete  however,  of  the  persons  represented, 
under  the  heading  "  The  Actors'  Names."  In  the  same  year 
with  the  publishing  of  the  folio,  the  play  was  entered  at  the 
Stationers'  by  Blount  and  Jaggard  as  one  of  "the  plays  not 
formerly  entered  to  other  men  " ;  which  naturally  infers  that  it 
was  then  first  enrolled  for  publication. 

The  folio  copy  is  in  certain  respects  very  remarkable.  Some 
parts  are  set  forth  in  a  most  irregular  manner,  being  full  of 
short  and  seemingly-broken  lines,  with  many  passages  printed 
as  verse,  which  cannot  possibly  be  read  as  such  ;  yet  the  sense  is 
generally  so  complete  as  to  infer  that  the  irregularity  came  from 
the  writer,  not  from  the  tran.scriber  or  the  printer.  In  these 
parts,  moreover,  along  with  Shakespeare's  rhythm  and  harmony, 
we  miss  also,  and  in  an  equal  degree,  his  characteristic  diction 
and  imagery :  the  ruggedness  and  irregularity  are  not  those  of 
one  who,  having  mastered  the  resources  of  harmonv,  knew  how 
to  heighten  and  enrich  it  with  discords,  but  of  one  who  was 
ignorant  of  its  laws  and  incapal)le  of  its  powers.  Other  parts, 
again,  exhibit  the  sustained  grandeur  of  the  Poet's  largest  and 
most  varied  music.  And  in  these  parts  the  true  Shakespearian 
cast  of  thought  and  imagery  comes  upon  us  in  all  its  richness, 
welling  up  from  the  deepest  fountains  of  his  genius,  and  steei)ed 
in  its  most  idiomatic  potencies.     These  several  parts  I  propose 


184  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

to  distinguish  as  the  Shakespeare  portions  and  the  Anonymous 
portions  of  the  play. 

As  Blount  and  Jaggard'S  entry  at  the  Stationers'  is  the  earliest 
notice  of  the  play  that  has  come  down  to  us,  we  have  no  external 
evidence  whatever  as  to  the  date  of  the  composition.  The  in- 
ternal marks  of  style  and  temper  naturally  speak  it  into  associa- 
tion with  Hamlet,  Measure  for  Measure,  and  King  Lear;  thus 
fixing  the  composition  somewhere  in  the  period  between  1600 
and  1606.  In  the  Shakespeare  portions,  the  peculiarities  of 
thought  and  manner,  as  in  the  other  plays  just  named,  refer 
us  to  a  time  when,  for  some  unknown  cause,  the  Poet's  mind 
seems  to  have  dwelt,  with  a  melancholy,  self-brooding  earnest- 
ness, among  the  darker  issues  of  human  life  and  passion,  as  if 
haunted  and  oppressed  by  the  mystery  of  evil  residing  in  the 
heart  of  man.  As  to  the  question  of  his  having  been  for  some 
time  under  such  a  fascination  as  would  naturally  dispose  him  to 
speak  as  "  the  stern  censurer  of  mankind,"  perhaps  the  strongest 
argument  is  furnished  by  the  play  in  hand.  For  the  subject  is 
certainly  ill-adapted  to  dramatic  uses.  And  this  lack  of  any 
thing  in  the  matter  that  should  have  determined  the  Poet's 
choice  to  it  may  well  lead  us  to  suspect  that  the  determining 
cause  lay  in  himself.  So  that  the  most  likely  conclusion  in  this 
case  seems  to  be,  that  some  ill-starred  experience,  such  as 
human  life  offers  to  most  men  who  are  observant  and  thoughtful 
enough  to  be  capable  of  it,  had  planted  in  him  so  strong  a 
sympathy  with  the  state  of  feeling  predominant  in  Timon,  as  to 
turn  the  scale  against  his  better  judgment  as  a  dram-tic  poet  and 
artist. 

That  some  parts  of  this  play  are  in  the  Poet's  best  manner, 
while  others  are  not  in  his  manner  at  all,  the  commentators  are 
mainly  agreed,  though  differing  much  in  their  ways  of  accounting 
for  it.  One  theory  is,  that  Shakespeare  wrote  the  whole  as  we 
have  it,  but  left  some  parts  in  a  very  crude  and  unfinished 
state,  giving  indeed  little  more  than  a  loose  sketch  or  outline  of 
what  he  intended  to  make  them.  To  this  there  are  insuperable 
objections.  For  the  parts  in  question  are  nowise  in  a  sketchy 
state  ;  the  outline  is  generally  filled  up,  but  with  nothing  like 
Shakespeare's  proper  stuff:  that  is  to  say,  they  are  in  no  sort 


TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  1 85 

like  an  unfinished  worlv  of  the  same  hand  wiiich  finished  che  other 
parts,  but  show  a  totally  different  cast  of  thought,  diction,  and 
imagery,  from  what  we  find  in  any  other  of  the  Poet's  plays,  or 
in  those  parts  of  this  play  where  his  hand  is  not  and  cannot  be 
questioned.  For  instance,  the  fifth  scene  in  Act  iii.  is  highly  epi- 
sodical, insomuch  that  if  entirely  thrown  out  it  would  scarce  be 
missed  in  the  action.  Now  it  is  precisely  in  such  an  episode  that 
we  should  expect  to  find  the  work  left  either  in  a  most  finished 
or  a  most  sketchy  state,  because  it  is  the  part  that  could  best  be 
worked  out  by  itself.  Accordingly  we  have  nothing  of  mere 
outline  here  ;  the  filling-up  is  complete,  but  it  has  no  relish  of 
Shakespeare  :  perhaps  there  is  no  part  less  unfinished,  nor  any 
more  un-Shakespearian,  than  this  scene. 

Another  theory  is,  that  the  manuscript  of  this  play  underwent 
in  some  parts  much  corruption  and  mutilation  at  the  hands  of 
the  players,  and  that  the  edition  of  1623  was  printed  from  a 
copy  thus  deformed.  The  objections  to  the  former  theory  hold, 
for  aught  I  can  .see,  equally  strong  against  this.  Besides,  the 
play  is  singularly  unsuited  to  the  stage ;  and  the  failure  of 
modern  research  to  find  any  contemporary  notice  of  its  i^erfor- 
mance  strongly  argues  it  to  have  been  so  regarded  at  the  time  : 
all  which  would  naturally  render  it  less  likely  to  sutler  in  the 
manner  supposed. 

A  third  view  —  proposed,  I  believe,  by  Farmer,  and  argued 
out  with  much  ability  by  Knight  —  is,  that  Shakespeare  did  not 
originate  the  play,  but  took  the  workmanship  of  some  inferior 
writer,  recast  certain  scenes,  enriched  others  with  some  touches 
of  his  own,  and  supplied  the  part  of  Timon,  as  we  have  it, 
entirely  from  himself:  all  which  is  thought  to  account  for  the 
man-hater's  character  being  "left  standing  apart  in  its  naked 
power  and  majesty,  without  much  regard  to  what  surrounded 
it."  This  view  is,  to  my  mind,  non.suited  by  the  conviction,  that 
Shakespeare's  approved  .severity  of  taste  and  strength  of  judg- 
ment at  that  period  of  his  life,  together  with  his  fulness  and 
quickness  of  resource,  could  hardly  have  endured  to  retain 
certain  parts  in  so  crude  and  feeble  a  state  as  wc  find  them. 
For  the  parts  supposed  to  be  borrowed  are  so  grossly  inadequate 
in  style  and  spirit  to  those  acknowledged  to  be  his,  that  it  seems 


1 86  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

incredible  he  should  have  suffered  them  to  pass.  Surely,  if  he 
had  thus  undertaken  to  remodel  the  work  of  another,  he  could 
hardly  have  rested  from  the  task,  till  he  had  informed  the  whole 
with  a  larger  measure  of  that  surpassing  energy  and  wealth  of 
thought  and  diction  which  mark  the  part  of  Timon  himself; 
showing  that  the  Poet's  genius  was  then  in  its  most  palmy  state. 

The  fourth,  and,  in  my  view,  the  most  probable,  theory  is 
Verplanck's;  that  Shakespeare  planned  the  whole  drama  sub- 
stantially as  we  have  it,  made  an  outline  of  all  the  parts,  includ- 
ing the  whole  course  and  order  of  the  action,  wrote  out  the  part 
of  Timon  in  its  present  form,  added,  besides,  some  whole  scenes 
as  they  now  stand,  and  furnished  some  passages  for  others  ;  but, 
perceiving  more  and  more,  as  he  went  on,  the  unfitness  of  the 
theme  for  his  purpose,  finally  gave  up  the  work,  and  threw  it 
aside  unfinished  :  that  this  was  afterwards  taken  in  hand  by  some 
third-rate  workman,  who  retained  all  that  Shakespeare  had  writ- 
ten, and  wrote  out  the  rest  in  accordance,  as  nearly  as  might 
be,  with  the  original  plan.  This  view  clearly  legitimates  the 
supposal  that  here  the  Poet's  choice  of  subject  grew  from  per- 
sonal sympatliy  with  the  mood  and  temper  of  mind  displayed  in 
Timon,  and  not  from  his  judgment  of  dramatic  fitness.  For  so 
his  interest  would  naturally  draw  first  to  those  parts  which  voiced 
his  prevailing  mood;  and  then  begin  to  flag  and  fall  away  as 
soon  as,  on  coming  to  those  where  such  personal  respects  had 
no  place,  his  dramatic  judgment  regained  the  upper  hand. 

Before  leaving  this  topic  I  must  add,  that  Mr.  F.  (}.  Fleay  and 
Mr.  James  Spedding  have  lately  brought  their  approved  learning 
and  judgment  to  bear  upon  the  question  ;  the  former  maintaining 
the  fourth,  the  latter  the  third,  of  the  forecited  views.  Mr.  Fleay 
states  that  the  object  of  his  writing  is  "  to  show  that  the  nucleus, 
the  original  and  only  valuable  part  of  the  play  is  Shakespeare's; 
and  that  it  was  completed  for  the  stage  by  a  second  and  in- 
ferior hand."  Mr.  Spedding  shows  some  of  his  arguments  to  be 
irrelevant  or  inconclusive,  but  I  cannot  see  that  he  does  much 
towards  upsetting  his  conclusion.  And  that  conclusion  is  at 
bottom  the  same  that  I  had  settled  upon  many  years  before  I 
had  any  knowledge  of  either  of  those  gentlemen. 

Therewithal  Mr  Fleay  has  made  what  may  well  be  termed  an 


TiMOx  OF  athp:ns.  187 

exhaustive  review  of  the  whole  matter,  both  discriminating 
throughout  what  he  regards  as  the  Shakespeare  and  the  Anony- 
mous portions,  and  also  setting  forth  the  grounds  of  that  dis- 
crimination. Here  'Sir.  Spedding  agrees  with  him  for  the  most 
part,  but  diverges  from  him  touching  a  few  less  important  pas- 
sages ;  wherein  1  am  apt  to  think  Mr.  Spedding  has  the  best  of 
it.  There  is  no  need  of  specifying  the  several  portions  here,  as 
I  have,  throughout  the  play,  distinguished  what  I  regard  as  the 
Anonymous  portions  by  setting  asterisks  before  all  the  lines 
therein.  This,  however,  is  done  only  where  I  am  thoroughly 
satisfied  that  the  lines  have  nothing  of  Shakespeare  in  them. 
There  are,  besides,  several  passages  which  I  am  doubtful  about, 
and  therefore  leave  them  unstarred.  The  first  of  these  is  in  iii. 
6,  from  the  entrance  of  Timon  down  to  the  speech  beginning 
"Each  man  to  his  stool."  Here  I  suspect  we  have  a  mixture  of 
Shakespeare  and  Anonymous  ;  at  any  rate,  the  first  four  speeches, 
to  my  taste,  relish  strongly  of  the  former.  The  next  in  iv.  3,  a 
part  of  the  long  dialogue  between  Timon  and  Apemantus,  con- 
sisting of  the  twenty-four  speeches  after  "  For  here  it  sleeps 
and  does  no  hired  harm,"'  down  to  "  Thou  art  the  cap  of  all  the 
fools  alive."  As  to  the  dialogue  of  Timon  and  the  Steward, 
later  in  the  same  scene,  here,  again,  we  seem  to  have  a  mixture 
of  Shakespeare  and  Anonymous ;  the  two  hands  being,  withal, 
so  closely  interlaced,  that  I  cannot  distinguish  exactly  what 
belongs  to  each,  and  so  leave  the  whole  unstarred  :  though  I 
taste  Shakespeare  decidedly  in  most  of  the  lines. 

Besides  the  great  diversities  of  mind  and  manner  in  this  play, 
there  are  some  instances  of  confusion  and  discrepancy  that  are 
fully  accounted  for  by  the  foregoing  remarks.  One  of  these,  near 
the  end  of  i.  i,  is  thus  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Fleay  :  "  After  Timon 
has  said,  '  Let  us  in,'  one  of  //le  rest  who  entered  with  Alcibiades 
says,  'Come,  shall  we  in,  and  taste  Lord  Timon's  bounty?'  and, 
after  a  little  conversation,  he  and  his  friend,  another  of  tlic  rest, 
go  in  together.  So  I  think  Shakespeare  arranged  it :  his  alterer 
empties  the  stage  of  all  but  Apemantus,  who  stays  in  order  to 
'  come  dropping  after  all  discontentedly  like  himself  in  the  next 
scene  :  but,  as  there  was  a  bit  of  .Shakespeare  to  be  used  up, 
the  alterer  brings  in  two  extra  Lords  to  talk  to  Apemantus,  so 


loo  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

that,  after  all,  Apemantus  has    no    opportunity   of  leaving    the 
stage  discontentedly  like  himself." 

Again  :  In  i.  2,  which  is  all  Anonymous,  the  Steward,  or  one 
who  performs  the  office  of  Steward,  is  called  Flavius ;  but,  in 
the  latter  part  of  ii.  2,  which  is  certainly  Shakespeare,  Flavins  is 
given  as  the  name  of  one  of  Timon's  servants  who  is  not  the 
Steward.  In  the  Shakespeare  portions,  in  fact,  the  folio  never 
designates  the  Steward  by  his  proper  name,  but  only  by  that  of 
his  office  ;  and  so  I  print  it  all  through  the  play,  though  the 
folio  repeatedly  calls  him  Flavius  in  the  Anonymous  portion 
aforesaid. 

Once  more:  In  the  first  Shakespeare  portion  of  ii.  2,  when 
the  servants  of  Timon's  creditors  are  putting  him  out  of  breath 
with  their  importunate  duns,  he  calls  on  the  Steward  to  explain 
the  reason  of  this  onset,  and  the  Steward  engages  them  to  "  cease 
their  importunacy  till  after  dinner,"  as  Timon  has  a  parcel  of 
friends  to  dine  with  him.  Then  Anonymous  comes  in,  and 
makes  the  Steward  say  to  the  duns,  "  Pray  you,  draw  near." 
But,  instead  of  doing  so,  they  stay  to  share  in  a  long  vapid  dia- 
logue with  Apemantus  and  somebody's  Fool.  After  more  than 
enough  of  this,  the  second  Shakespeare  portion  of  the  scene 
begins  by  making  the  Steward  say  to  the  duns,  "  Pray  you,  walk 
near;  I'll  speak  with  you  anon";  whereupon  the  duns  retire 
a  little,  and  the  Steward  proceeds  with  the  explanation  which 
Timon  had  called  upon  him  to  make.  Moreover,  Anonymous, 
with  exquisite  clumsiness,  first  sends  Timon  and  his  Steward  off 
the  stage,  and  keeps  them  off  during  the  dialogue  aforesaid  ;  then 
brings  them  back,  that  Shakespeare  may  make  them  proceed  with 
their  talk  just  as  if  they  had  not  gone  off  at  all.  This,  taken  all 
together,  is  indeed  a  stupendous  piece  of  botching !  a  thick 
stratum  of  Anonymous  mud  heinously  thrust  in  betwixt  two 
layers  of  Shakespeare  gold  !  Other  like  notes  of  disorder  might 
easily  be  cited  ;  but  thus  much  is  enough  on  that  head,  perhaps 
more  than  enough. 

I  must  next  adduce  one  or  two  instances  of  a  different  nature. 
In  Act  ii.  there  seems  a  want  of  due  connection  between  the 
first  and  second  scenes,  since  we  have  the  Fool  speaking  of  his 
mistress,  and  the  Page  out  on  her  errands,  while  no  hint  has  yet 


TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  1 89 

been  given  as  to  who  or  what  their  mistress  is.  Johnson  saw 
this  gap,  and  remarked  upon  it  as  follows:  "I  suspect  some 
scene  to  be  lost,  in  which  the  entrance  of  the  Fool  and  Page 
was  prepared  by  some  introductory  dialogue,  wherein  the  audi- 
ence was  informed  that  they  were  the  Fool  and  Page  of  Phrynia, 
Timandra,  or  some  other  courtesan,  upon  the  knowledge  of 
which  depends  the  greater  part  of  the  ensuing  jocularity."  So, 
again,  in  iii.  5,  we  have  Alcibiades  pleading  with  the  Senate  in 
behalf  of  a  condemned  soldier  whose  name  has  not  been  men- 
tioned, nor  any  thing  said  of  the  act  for  which  the  Senate  are 
passing  upon  his  life.  The  whole  matter  comes  in  most  abruptly, 
insomuch  that  our  thoughts  can  hardly  choose  but  cast  about  for 
.some  scene  or  dialogue  which  has  been  omitted  or  forgotten. 

It  may  be  worth  noting  also,  that  in  the  Shakespeare  portions 
there  is  never  any  difificulty  in  distinguishing  what  was  meant  for 
verse  and  what  for  prose  ;  while  in  the  Anonymous  portions  the 
two  are  often  hardly  possible  to  be  distinguished.  So,  in  i.  i, 
the  speech  of  Apemantus,  "  Ach&s  contract  and  starve  your  supple 
joints,"  Sic,  is  printed  in  the  original  as  prose ;  yet  any  good  ear 
used  to  Shakespeare  can  hardly  fail  to  recognize  it  as  verse,  and 
such  verse  as  carries  the  mind  at  once  to  the  greatest  of  poets. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Anonymous  portions  abound  in  speeches 
which  the  original  prints  as  verse,  but  which  run  in  so  hobbling, 
disjointed,  and  jolting  a  fashion,  that  neither  the  ear  nor  the 
mind  can  possibly  read  or  receive  them  as  such.  Several  of 
these  I  print  as  prose,  —  though  good  prose  they  certainly  are 
not,  —  in  order  to  save  the  reader  from  the  vexation  of  trying  to 
read  as  verse  what  cannot  be  so  read. 

The  story  of  Timon  the  Misanthrope  appears  to  have  been 
something  of  a  commonplace  in  the  literature  of  Shakespeare's 
time.  We  have  an  allusion  to  it  in  Love's  Labours  Lost,  iv.  3 : 
"And  critic  Timon  laugh  at  idle  toys.''  Also  in  a  collection  of 
ICpigrams  and  .Satires  published  in  1598,  and  entitled  Skiah-Z/wia: 
"  Like  hate-man  Timon  in  his  cell  he  sits."'  Hut  by  far  the  most 
noteworthy  use  of  the  theme  is  in  tiic  form  of  a  play  which  has 
come  down  to  our  time  in  manuscript,  and  is  supposed  to  have 
been  written  or  transcribed  about  the  year  1600.     An  edition  of 


TQO  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

it  was  set  forth  by  Dyce  for  the  Shakespeare  Society  in  1842. 
"  That  our  Poet,"  says  Dyce,  "  had  any  acquaintance  with  it,  I 
much  doubt ;  for  it  certainly  was  never  performed  in  London,  — 
being  a  drama  intended  solely  for  the  amusement  of  an  academic 
audience."  There  are  indeed  some  close  resemblances  of  inci- 
dent between  this  play  and  Shakespeare's  ;  but  none  such  as  to 
infer  any  thing  more  than  a  drawing  from  a  common  source. 

The  most  popular  authority  for  the  character  of  Timon  in 
Shakespeare's  day  was  Paynter's  Palace  of  Pleasure,  in  the  first 
volume  of  which,  published  before  1567,  "  the  strange  and 
beastly  nature  of  Timon  of  Athens,  with  his  death,  burial,  and 
epitaph,"  is  briefly  set  forth,  the  matter  being  professedly  derived 
from  Plutarch's  Life  of  Marcus  Antoiiius.  I  subjoin  the  passage 
about  Timon,  as  given  in  North's  translation  of  Plutarch,  1579: 

"  This  Timon  was  a  citizen  of  Athens,  that  lived  about  the 
war  of  Peloponnesus,  as  appeareth  by  Plato  and  Aristophanes' 
comedies;  in  the  which  they  mocked  him,  calling  him  a  viper 
and  malicious  man  unto  mankind,  to  shun  all  other  men's  com- 
panies but  the  company  of  young  Alcibiades,  a  bold  and  inso- 
lent youth,  whom  he  would  greatly  feast  and  make  much  of,  and 
kissed  him  very  gladly.  Apemantus,  wondering  at  it,  asked  him 
the  cause  what  he  meant,  to  make-  so  much  of  that  young  man 
alone,  and  to  hate  all  others.  Timon  answered  him,  '  I  do  it, 
because  I  know  that  one  day  he  shall  do  great  mischief  unto  the 
Athenians.'  This  Timon  sometimes  would  have  Apemantus  in 
his  company,  because  he  was  much  like  of  his  nature  and  con- 
ditions, and  also  followed  him  in  manner  of  life.  On  a  time 
when  they  solemnly  celebrated  the  feast  called  Choce  at  Athens, 
where  they  make  sprinklings  and  sacrifices  for  the  dead,  and 
that  they  two  then  feasted  together  by  themselves,  Apemantus 
said  unto  the  other,  '  O,  here  is  a  trim  banquet,  Timon!'  Ti- 
mon answered,  '  Yea,  so  thou  wert  not  here.'  It  is  reported 
also,  that  this  Timon  on  a  time,  the  people  being  assembled  in 
the  market-place  about  dispatch  of  some  affairs,  got  up  into  the 
pulpit  for  orations ;  and,  silence  being  made,  every  man  listen- 
ing to  hear  what  he  would  say,  because  it  was  a  wonder  to  see 
him  in  that  place,  at  length  he  began  to  speak  in  this  manner: 
'  My  lords  of  Athens,  I  have  a  little  yard  at  my  house  where 


TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  I9I 

there  groweth  a  fig-tree,  on  which  many  citizens  have  hanged 
themselves;  and,  because  I  mean  to  make  some  building  on  the 
place,  1  thought  good  to  let  you  all  understand  it,  that,  before 
the  fig-tree  be  cut  down,  if  an}-  of  you  be  desperate,  you  may 
there  go  hang  yourselves.'  He  died  in  the  city  of  Hales,  and 
was  buried  upon  the  sea-side.  Now  it  chanced  so,  that  the  sea 
getting  in  compassed  his  tomb  round  about,  that  no  man  could 
come  to  it ;  and  upon  the  same  was  written  tliis  epitapli : 

Here  lies  a  wretched  corse,  of  wretched  soul  bereft : 

Seek  not  my  name :  a  plague  consume  you  wicked  wretches  left ! 

It  is  reported  that  Timon  himself,  when  he  lived,  inade  this 
epitaph  ;  for  that  which  is  commonly  rehearsed  was  not  his,  but 
made  by  the  poet  Callimachus  : 

Here  lie  I,  Timon,  who  alive  all  living  men  did  hate : 

Pass  by,  and  curse  thy  fill ;  but  pass,  and  stay  not  here  thy  gait. 

Many  other  things  could  we  tell  you  of  this  Timon,  but  this 
little  shall  suffice  for  this  present." 

The  account  given  by  Payntcr  agrees  with  this  in  all  material 
points.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  one  of  these  sources  fur- 
nished the  idea  of  Apemantus,  as  al.so  of  the  "  tree  which  grows 
here  in  my  close,"  and  ot  the  "everlasting  mansion  upon  the 
beached  verge  of  the  salt  tiood "' ;  neither  of  these  being  found 
in  the  i)Iace  whence  other  materials  of  the  play  were  drawn. 

The  rest  of  the  story  was  derived,  directly  or  indirectly,  from 
Lucian's  dialogue  of  Ti)no)i,  or  tlic  Man-hater.  Malone  thinks 
the  Poet  could  not  have  borrowed  directly  from  Lucian,  because 
there  was  then  no  English  translation  of  the  dialogue  in  ques- 
tion. In  the  first  place,  however,  it  would  be  something  hard  to 
prove  this,  the  only  evidence  being,  that  no  such  translation  of 
that  date  has  come  down  to  us.  In  the  second  place,  there  is 
known  to  have  been  both  a  Latin  and  an  Italian  version  of  Lucian 
at  that  time ;  and  it  is  altogether  likely  that  .Shakespeare  knew 
enough  of  both  these  languages  to  be  able  to  read  a  piece  of 
that  kind.  I  subjoin  a  close  abstract  of  tho.se  passages  of  Lu- 
cian from  which  the  borrowings  were  chieHy  made. 

While  Timon  is  dwelling  in  solitary  exile,  and  working  hard 
with  his  spad.-.  Jupiter,  on  learning  how  matters  stand  with  him. 


192  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

sends  the  gods  Mercury  and  Plutus  to  cheer  and  relieve  him. 
The  two  gods  find  him  digging,  and  the  three  together  hold  a 
pretty  long  talk,  which  is  brimful  of  the  keenest  and  raciest  satire 
and  invective.  This  done,  the  gods  leave  him,  Plutus  having 
first  exhorted  him  to  keep  on  digging,  and  having  commanded 
treasure  to  put  itself  in  his  way.  Timon  then  resumes  his  spade, 
and  presently  overhauls  a  mass  of  treasure,  whereupon  he  breaks 
forth  as  follows:  "It  is,  it  must  be,  gold,  fine,  yellow,  noble 
gold  ;  heavy,  sweet  to  look  upon.  Burning  like  fire,  thou  shmest 
day  and  night :  come  to  me,  thou  dear  delightful  treasure  !  Now 
do  I  believe  that  Jove  himself  was  once  turned  into  gold  :  what 
virgin  would  not  spread  forth  her  bosom  to  receive  so  beautiful 
a  lover  ?  You,  my  spade  and  blanket,  shall  be  hung  up  as  my 
votive  acknowledgment  to  the  great  deity.  I  will  purchase  some 
retired  spot,  and  there  build  a  tower  to  keep  my  gold  in :  this 
shall  be  my  habitation,  and,  when  dead,  my  grave  also.  From 
this  time  forth,  I  will  despise  acquaintance,  friendship,  compas- 
sion ;  to  pity  the  distressed,  to  relieve  the  indigent,  I  shall  hold 
a  crime :  my  life,  like  the  beasts  of  the  field,  shall  be  spent  in 
solitude.  Kindred,  friends,  and  country  are  empty  names,  re- 
spected by  none  but  fools.  Let  Timon  only  be  rich,  and  scorn 
all  the  world  besides :  abhorring  praise  and  flattery,  I  will  have 
pleasure  in  myself  alone ;  alone  I  will  sacrifice  to  the  gods, 
feast  alone,  be  my  own  neighbour  and  companion ;  and,  when  I 
am  dead,  the  fairest  name  I  would  be  distinguished  by  is  Mis- 
anthrope. Yet  I  would  that  all  might  know  how  rich  I  am,  as 
this  would  heighten  their  misery.  But  hush  !  whence  all  this 
noise  and  hurry  ?  What  crowds  are  here,  all  covered  with  dust, 
and  out  of  breath !  They  have  smelt  out  the  gold !  Shall  I 
mount  this  hill,  and  pelt  them  with  stones  ?  or  shall  I  for  once 
hold  some  parley  with  them?  It  will  make  them  more  unhappy, 
when  thev  find  how  I  despise  them ;  therefore  I  will  stay  and 
receive  them." 

He  is  then  approached,  first,  by  Gnathon,  a  parasite,  who 
brings  him  a  new  song;  and  of  whom  he  says,  "The  other  day, 
when  I  asked  him  for  a  supper,  he  held  out  a  rope,  though  he 
had  emptied  many  a  cask  with  me."  Next  comes  Philiades,  a 
flatterer;   "to  whom,"  says  Timon,  "I  gave  a  large  piece  of 


TIMON    OF    ATHENS,  193 

ground,  and  two  talents  for  his  daugliter's  portion ;  yet,  alier- 
wards,  when  I  was  sick  and  begged  his  help,  the  wretch  fell 
upon  me  and  beat  me."  The  third  comer  is  Demeas,  an  orator : 
"He,"  says  Timon,  "was  bound  to  the  State  for  seventeen 
talents,  and,  being  unable  to  pay  it,  I  took  pity  on  him  and  re- 
deemed him  ;  yet,  when  he  was  distributing  the  public  money  to 
our  tribe,  and  I  asked  him  for  my  share,  he  declared  he  did  not 
know  me."  The  fourth  is  Tlnasycles,  a  philosopher,  of  whom 
Timon  speaks  as  follows  :  "  This  fellow,  if  you  meet  him  in  the 
morning,  shall  be  well  clad,  modest  and  humble,  and  will  talk 
to  you  by  the  hour  about  piety  and  virtue,  condemn  luxury  and 
praise  frugality ;  but,  when  he  comes  to  supper  in  the  evening, 
will  forget  all  he  has  said  in  the  morning,  devour  every  thing 
before  him,  crowd  his  neighbours,  and  lean  upon  the  dishes,  as 
if  he  expected  to  find  the  virtue  he  talked  so  much  of  at  the 
bottom  of  them.  Then  he  gets  drunk,  dances,  sings,  scolds,  and 
abuses  everybody ;  always  talking  in  his  cups,  and  haranguing 
others  about  temperance,  though  himself  so  drunk  as  to  be  the 
laughing-stock  of  all  about  him."  To  these  succeed  Laches, 
Blepsias,  Gniphon,  and  "  a  whole  heap  of  scoundrels";  and  all 
of  them  are  treated  to  thwackings  with  the  spade  or  pelting  with 
stones,  till  tiiey  are  content  to  leave  him  alone  ;  whereupon  the 
dialogue  closes. 

It  may  be  observed  that  neither  Lucian  nor  Plutarcli  furnishes 
any  hint  towards  the  banquet  which  Timon  gets  up  for  his  false 
friends.  In  the  old  play,  mentioned  before,  Timon  is  represented 
as  inviting  them  to  a  feast,  and  setting  before  them  stones  painted 
to  look  like  artichokes,  with  which  he  afterwards  pelts  them  and 
drives  them  out.  How  Shakespeare's  Timon  came  to  resemble 
the  other  in  this  point,  is  a  question  for  those  who  have  the  curi- 
osity and  the  leisure  to  pursue  it.  But  the  resemblance  between 
Lucian  and  Shakespeare  is  especially  close  in  the  apostrophe  of 
Timon  upon  finding  the  gold ;  and,  as  the  anonymous  play  has 
no  such  resemblance,  this  infers  that  the  Poet's  borrowings  from 
Lucian  were  not  made  through  that  medium. 


TIMON    OF   ATHENS. 


PERSONS    REPRESENTED. 


TlMON,  a  noble  Athenian. 

Lucius,  k      ,  ,  v-, 

,  ,„,, „  Lords,   and   Hatter- 

LUCULLUS,  ersofTimon. 

Semproxius,  ) 

Ventiuius,  one  of  his  false  Fiuends. 

AlcibiadI'-S,  an  Athenian  General. 

Apem.v.ntus,  a  Cynic. 

Steward  to  Timon. 

Poet,  Painter,  Jeweller,  and  Merchant. 

FLAVIUS.       \ 

LUCILIUS,     >■  Servants  to  Timon. 
Servilius,  J 


Servants  to  Tiinon's 
Creditors. 


An  old  .Athenian 

Capiils, 

Phi  LOTUS, 

Titus, 

hortensius, 

And  others. 

A  Page. 

A  Fool. 

Three  Stranirers 


PIIRYNIA,     1  Mistresses   to  Alcibia 

TlMANORA,  1  '^'^^• 


Cupid  and  Amazons  in  the  masque. 
Other  Lords,  Senators,  Officers,  Soldiers,  Banditti,  and  Attendants. 

Sc^^E.  ^  Athens  and  the  woods  adjoiniMg. 


ACT   I. 

ScF.NK  I.  —  Athens.     A  //a//  in  Tiyu^N's  II,>use. 

Enter  Poet,  Painter,  Jeweller,  Merchant,  and  others,  at 
several  doors. 

Poet,    fxood  (lay,  sir. 

Pain.  I  am  glad  you're  well. 

Poet.    I  have  not  seen  yon  long  :   how  goes  the  world? 

Pain.    It  wears,  sir,  as  it  grows. 


196  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  I 

Poet.  Ay,  that's  well  known  : 

But  what  particular  rarity  ?  what  strange, 
Which  manifold  rec6rd  not  matches  ?  —  See, 
Magic  of  bounty  !  all  these  spirits  thy  power 
Hath  conjured  to  attend.  —  I  know  the  merchant. 

Pain.    I  know  them  both  ;  th'  other's  a  jeweller. 

Mer.    O,  'tis  a  worthy  lord. 

Jew.  Nay,  that's  most  fix'd. 

Mer.    A  most  incomparable  man  ;  breathed,^  as  it  were, 
To  an  untirable  and  continuate  goodness  : 
He  passes.^ 

Jew.    I  have  a  jewel  here. 

Mer.    O,  pray,  let's  see't :  for  the  Lord  Timon,  sir? 

Jew.    If  he  will  touch  the  estimate  :  ^  but,  for  that  — • 

Poet.    [Reading  from  his  poem.] 

When  we  for  recompense  have  praised  the  vile, 
It  stains  the  glory  in  that  happy  verse 
IVIiich  aptly  sings  the  good. 

Mer.    \_Looking  at  the  Jewel.']    'Tis  a  good  form. 

Je7v.    And  rich  :  here  is  a  water,  look  ye. 

Pain.   You're  rapt,  sir,  in  some  work,  some  dedication 
To  the  great  lord  ? 

Poet.  A  thing  slipp'd  idly  from  me. 

Our  poesy  is  as  a  gum,  which  oozes 
From  whence  'tis  nourished  :  the  fire  i'  the  flint 
Shows  not  till  it  be  struck  ;  our  gentle  flame 
Provokes  itself,  and,  like  the  current,  flies 

1  Breathed  is  exercised  or  practised ;  a  frequent  usage.  Still,  to  speak 
of  being  exercised  to  a  thing  sounds  odd  :  we  should  say  exercised  in.  But 
Shakespeare  has  other  like  expressions,  such  as  "  guilty  to  self-wrong."  See 
vol.  vii.  page  233,  note  57. 

2  Passes  is  excels,  surpasses.  So  the  phrase  still  in  use,  "  It  passes  expres- 
sion."   See  vol.  vii.  page  174,  note  i. 

8  To  touch  the  estimate  is  to  reach,  or  come  up  to,  the  price  set  upon  it. 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  I97 

Each  bound  it  chafes.'*     What  ha\-e  you  there  ? 

Pain.    A  picture,  sir.     When  comes  your  book  forth? 

Poet.    Upon  the  heels  of  my  presentment,  sir. 
Let's  see  your  piece. 

Pain.  'Tis  a  good  piece. 

Poet.    So  'tis  :  this  comes  off  well  ^  and  excellent. 

Pain.    Indifferent.*^ 

Poet.  Admirable  :   how  this  grace 

Speaks  his"^  own  standing  !  what  a  mental  power 
This  eye  shoots  forth  !  how  big  imagination 
Moves  in  this  lip  !  to  th'  dumbness  of  the  gesture 
One  might  interpret.*^ 

Pain.    It  is  a  pretty  mocking  of  the  life. 
Here  is  a  touch  ;  is't  good  ? 

Poet.  I  will  say  of  it, 

It  tutors  Nature  :   artificial  strife  ^ 
Lives  in  these  touches,  livelier  than  life. 

Enter  certain  Senators,  and  pass  over. 

Pain.    How  this  lord  is  follow'd  ! 

^  So  in  King  Lear,  iv.  6:  "  Tlic  inurniuriiig  singe,  th.it  on  th'  unnum- 
ber'd  idle  pebbles  chafes!'  The  meaning  is,  that  a  poet's  vein  flows  s[ion- 
taneously,  like  a  stream,  and  passes  right  on  as  if  scorning  the  banks  that  it 
chafes. 

^  To  come  off  well  is  to  succeed,  to  accomplish  its  purpose. 

8  Indifferent  here  is  what  we  call  tolerable.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  222,  note  16. 

"  His  for  its,  referring  \o  grace.  The  language,  however,  is  elliptical ;  the 
meaning  being,  "  How  Xhe  graceful  attitude  of  this  figure  expresses  its  firm- 
ness of  character !  " 

"  The  dumb  gesture  is  so  expressive,  that  one  can  easily  put  tiic  meaning 
of  it  into  words. 

0  .Artificial  strife  for  the  strife  of  art.  Heath  explains,  "  The  execution 
of  the  pencil  emulating  Nature  displays  a  life  in  those  touches  which  is 
livelier  than  even  life  itself."    So  in  Venus  and  .Idonis  : 

r.<H>l<,  when  .n  painter  would  snr|i.iss  the  life 
In  limninKoiit  a  wull-proporlion'il  steed. 
His  .irt  with  N.itiirc's  workin.-inship  .it  strife, 
As  if  the  dead  the  living  should  exceed. 


igS  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  I 

FoeA   The  Senators  of  Athens.     Happy  man  ! 

Paiti.    Look,  more  ! 

Poet.   You  see  this  confluence,  this  great  flood  of  visitors, 
I  have,  in  this  rough  work,  shaped  out  a  man 
Whom  this  beneath-world  doth  embrace  and  hug 
With  amplest  entertainment.    My  free  drift 
Halts  not  particularly, i'^  but  moves  itself 
In  a  wide  sea  of  wax :  ^^  no  levell'd  malice 
Infects  one  comma  in  the  course  I  hold ; 
But  flies  an  eagle  flight,  bold,  and  forth  on, 
Leaving  no  track  behind. i- 

Pain.    How  shall  I  understand  you  ? 

Poet.  I'll  unbolt  '^  to  you. 

You  see  how  all  conditions,  how  all  minds  — 
As  well  of  glib  and  slippery  creatures  as 
Of  grave  and  austere  quality  —  tender  down 
Their  services  to  Lord  Timon  :   his  large  fortune. 
Upon  his  good  and  gracious  nature  hanging. 
Subdues  and  properties  '"^  to  his  love  and  tendance 
All  sorts  of  hearts  ;  yea,  from  the  glass-faced  flatterer  i^ 

1'-  Does  not  fasten  upon  any  particular  person  or  character. 

11  This  expression  is  very  odd.  The  best  explanation  of  it  that  I  have 
met  with  is  Dr.  Ingleby's,  who  observes  that  '"A  wide  sea  of  wax"  seems 
to  be  merely  an  affected  and  pedantic  mode  of  indicating  a  sea  that  widens 
with  the  flood."  The  Poet  uses  to  wax  repeatedly  for  to  grow ;  and  Fal- 
staff  makes  it  the  pivot  of  a  pun,  speaking  of  himself:  "  A  wassail  candle, 
my  lord ;  all  tallow :  if  I  did  say  of  wax,  my  growth  would  approve  the 
truth." 

12  Explained  by  Johnson  thus :  "  My  poem  is  not  a  satire  written  with 
any  particular  view,  or  levell'd  at  any  single  person  :  I  fly,  like  an  eagle, 
into  agene.al  expanse  of  life,  and  leave  not,  by  any  private  mischief,  the 
trace  of  my  passage." — ^  To  level  \s  to  aim.  "But  flies  an  eagle  flight"  is 
elliptical ;  it,  referring  to  course,  being  understood  after  But. 

13  Unbolt  is  open,  unfold,  explain. 

1*  To  property  is  to  take  possession  or  appropriate.  See  vol.  v.  page  221, 
note  13. 

15  Glass-faced,  because  he  apes  his  patron,  or  takes  him  for  liis  modt?!, 
and  so  tries  to  do  him  the  office  of  a  looking-glass. 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  I99 

To  Apemantus,  that  few  things  loves  better 
Thau  to  abhor  himself :  even  he  drops  down 
The  knee  before  him,  and  returns  in  peace 
Most  rich  in  Timon's  nod. 

Pain.  I  saw  them  speak  together. 

Poet.    Sir, 
I  have  upon  a  high  and  pleasant  hill 
Feign'd  Fortune  to  be  throned  :  the  base  o'  the  mount 
Is  rank'd  with  all  deserts,  all  kind  of  natures, 
That  labour  on  the  bosom  of  this  sphere 
To  propagate  their  states  :  "^  amongst  them  all 
Whose  eyes  are  on  this  sovereign  lady  fix'd. 
One  do  I  personate  of  Lord  Timon's  frame. 
Whom  Fortune  with  her  ivory  hand  wafts  to  her ; 
W'hose  present  grace  to  present  slaves  and  servants 
Translates  his  rivals. 

Pain.  'Tis  conceived  to  th'  scope. '^ 

This  throne,  this  Fortune,  and  this  hill,  methinks, 
With  one  man  beckon'd  from  the  rest  below, 
liowing  his  head  against  the  steepy  mount 
To  climb  his  ha])piness,  would  be  well  express'd 
In  our  condition.'^ 

Poet.  Nay,  sir,  but  hear  me  on. 

.Ml  those  which  were  his  fellows  but  of  late  — 
Some  better  than  his  value  —  on  tlie  moment 
Follow  his  strides,  his  lobbies  fill  with  tendance, 
Rain  sacrificial  whisperings''-*  in  his  ear, 

l"  Mcaninfj,  |)rol)ably,  to  advance  or  further  their  interest.  Stale  and 
estate  were  used  indiscriminately.     See  vol.  vi.  page  141,  note  17. 

^'^  That  is,  aptly  or  adequately  conceived  ;  iinaginud  in  a  style  suitable  to 
the  purpose  or  the  subject. 

18  Condition  for  art  or  profession.  Not  so  used  elsewhere  by  tlie  Poet,  I 
think.  In  old  Knglish,  however,  condition  and  quality  readily  pass  into  each 
other;  and  quality  often  stands  for  callinj^  or  pursuit. 

19  Pour  hbations  of  whispered  sycopliancy,  as  to  a  god.  Gray  has  a 
like  passage  in  liis  well-known  Elej^y : 


200  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  act  I. 

Make  sacred  even  his  stirrup,  and  througli  him 
Drink  the  free  air.-" 

Pain.  Ay,  marry,  what  of  these  ? 

Poet.    When  Fortune,  in  her  shift  and  change  of  mood, 
Spurns  down  her  late  beloved,  all  his  dependants. 
Which  labour'd  after  him  to  th'  mountain's  top 
Even  on  their  knees  and  hands,  let  him  slip  down, 
Not  one  accompanying  his  declining  foot. 

Pain.    'Tis  common  : 
A  thousand  moral  paintings  I  can  show. 
That  shall  demonstrate  these  quick  blows  of  Fortune 
More  pregnantly  than  words.     Yet  you  do  well 
To  show  Lord  Timon  that  men's  eyes  have  seen 
The  foot  above  the  head.'-'^ 

Trumpets  sound.  Enter  Timon,  attended ;  a  Servant  oj 
Ventidius  talking  with  him  ;  Lucilius  ajid  other  Atten- 
dants folloiving. 

Tim.  Imprison'd  is  he,  say  you? 

Serv.    Ay,  my  good  lord  ;  five  talents  is  Iiis  debt ; 
His  means  most  short,  his  creditors  most  strait  :22 
Your  honourable  letter  he  desires 
To  those  have  sliut  him  up  ;   which  failing  him 
Periods  his  comfort. 

Tim.  Noble  Ventidius  !     Well ; 

I  am  not  of  that  feather  to  shake  off 


Or  heap  the  shrine  of  Luxury  and  Pride 
With  incense  kindled  at  the  Muse's  flame. 

20  Act  as  if  tlie  very  air  they  breathe,  which  is  free  to  all,  were  his  special 
gift  to  them. 

■■'1  Meaning,  simply,  that  men  have  seen  the  loftiest  cast  down,  and  the 
lowest  raised  up  or  advanced  above  them. 

22  Strait,  here,  is  strict,  exacting,  or  rigid.  So  in  Afeasure  for  Aleasure, 
ii.  I :  "  Let  but  your  Honour  know,  —  whom  I  believe  to  be  most  strait  in 
virtue,"  &c. 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  20I 

My  friend  when  he  most  needs  me.     I  do  know  him 

A  gentleman  that  well  desen'es  a  help ; 

Which  he  shall  have  :   I'll  pay  the  debt,  and  free  him. 

SeriK   Your  lordship  ever  binds  him. 

Tim.    Commend  me  to  him  :  I  will  send  his  ransom  ; 
And,  being  enfranchised,  bid  him  come  to  me. 
'Tis  not  enough  to  help  the  feeble  up, 
But  to  support  him  after.     Fare  you  well. 

SeKo.   All  happiness  to  your  Honour  !  \^Exit. 

E7iter  an  old  Athenian. 

Old  Atli.    Lord  Timon,  hear  me  speak. 

Tim.  Freely,  good  father. 

Old  Ath.   Thou  hast  a  servant  named  Lucilius. 

Tim.    I  have  so  :  what  of  him  ? 

Old  Ath.    Most  noble  Timon,  call  the  man  before  thee. 

Tim.    .'\ttends  he  here,  or  no?  —  Lucilius  ! 

Luc.   {^Coming fonvard.'\   Here,  at  your  lordship's  service. 

Old  Ath.    This  fellow  here.  Lord  Timon,  this  thy  creature, 
By  night  frequents  my  house.     I  am  a  man 
That  from  my  first  have  been  inclined  to  thrift ; 
And  my  estate  deserves  an  heir  more  raised 
Than  one  which  holds  a  trencher. 

Tim.  Well;  what  further? 

Old  Ath.    One  only  daughter  have  I,  no  kin  else, 
On  whom  I  may  confer  what  I  have  got : 
The  maid  is  fair,  o'  the  youngest  for  a  bride, 
And  I  have  bred  her  at  my  dearest  cost 
In  qualities  of  the  best.     This  man  of  thine 
Attempts  her  love  :   I  pr'ythee,  noble  lord, 
Join  with  me  to  forbid  him  her  resort ; 
Myself  have  si)oke  in  vain. 

Tim.  The  man  is  honest. 

Old  Ath.   Therefore  he  will  be  Timon's  : 


202  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  I. 

His  honesty  rewards  him  in  itself  ;~3 
It  must  not  bear  my  daughter. 

Tim.  Does  she  love  him? 

Old  Ath.    She  is  young  and  apt : 
Our  own  precedent  passions  do  instruct  us 
What  levity's  in  youth. 

Tim.    \To  LuciLius.]    Love  you  the  maid? 

Luc.    Ay,  my  good  lord  ;  and  she  accepts  of  it. 

Old  Ath.    If  in  her  marriage  my  consent  be  missing, 
I  call  the  gods  to  witness,  I  will  choose 
Mine  heir  from  forth  the  beggars  of  the  world, 
And  dispossess  her  all. 

Tim.  How  shall  she  be  endow'd, 

If  she  be  mated  with  an  equal  husband? 

Old  Ath.    Three  talents  on  the  present ;  in  future,  all. 

Tim.    This  gentleman  of  mine  hath  served  me  long  : 
To  build  his  fortune  I  will  strain  a  little, 
For  'tis  a  bond  in  men.     Give  him  thy  daughter : 
What  you  bestow,  in  him  I'll  counterpoise, 
And  make  him  weigh  with  her. 

Old  Ath.  Most  noble  lord, 

Pawn  me  to  this  your  honour,  she  is  his. 

Tim.    My  hand  to  thee  ;  mine  honour  on  my  promise. 

Luc.    Humbly  I  thank  your  lordship  :  never  may 
That  state  of  fortune  fall  into  my  keeping 
Which  is  not  owed  to  you  !-■* 

S^Excuiit  LuciLius  and  Old  Athenian. 

Poet.    \_Presenti7ig  his  foem.']    Vouchsafe  my  labour,  and 
long  live  your  lordship  ! 

23  That  is,  will  be  Timon's  servant,  or  will  be  t>iie  to  Timon  ;  and  so  the 
honesty  that  keeps  him  faithful  to  Timon  will  bring  or  bear  him  his  re- 
ward.—  Dear,  in  the  next  line,  is  win  or  gain. 

2*  "  May  I  never  have  any  estate  or  fortune  whicli  I  shall  not  consider 
strictly  due  to  you,  and  as  much  your  own  as  if  it  were  secured  to  you  by 
law." 


SCENE  I.  TIMO\    OF    ATHENS.  203 

Tim.    I  thank  }-oii ;  you  shall  hear  from  me  anon  : 
Go  not  away.  —  What  ha\-c  you  there,  my  friend  ? 

Pain.    \_Prcsenting  his  painting.']    A    piece    of   i)ainting, 
which  I  do  beseech 
Your  lordship  to  accept. 

Tim.  Painting  is  welcome. 

The  painting  is  almost  the  natural  man  ; 
For,  since  dishonour  traffics  with  man's  nature, 
He's  but  outside  :  -^  these  pencill'd  figures  are 
Even  such  as  they  give  out.     I  like  your  work  \ 
And  you  shall  find  I  like  it :  wait  attendance 
Till  you  hear  further  from  me. 

Pain.  The  gods  preserve  ye  ! 

Tim.    Well  fare  you,  gentleman  :  give  me  your  hand  ; 
We  must  needs  dine  together.  —  Sir,  your  jewel 
Hath  suflfer'd  under  praise. 
Jew.  What,  my  lord  !  dispraise?-'' 

Tim.    A  mere  satiety  of  commendations. 
If  I  should  pay  you  for't  as  'tis  extoll'd. 
It  would  unclew-'''  me  quite. 

Jew.  My  lord,  'tis  rated 

As  those  which  sell  would  give  :   l)ut  you  well  know. 
Things  of  like  value,  differing  in  the  owners, 
Are  i)rized  by  their  masters  :  "'^  belicve't,  dear  lord, 
You  iiund  the  jewel  by  the  wearing  it. 

25  Dishonour  here  means  dishonesty.  Since  falsehood  and  hypocrisy 
drive  their  trade  in  man's  nature,  liis  outside,  whicli  is  ail  that  we  can  see, 
is  no  sure  index  of  what  is  within  ;  but  in  pictures  of  men  there  is  no  such 
cheating ;  they  mean  just  what  they  say. 

20  The  Jeweller  understands  Timon  as  saying  underpraise.  —  Wai.KKR. 

"'  Unclew  is  equivalent  to  xaido.  The  proper  meaning  of  the  word  is 
to  unwind ;  clew  or  clue  being  an  old  name  for  any  thing  round,  as  a  ball 
of  yarn,  or  that  on  which  a  ball  of  yarn  is  wound. 

"  Arc  rated  according'  to  the  esteem  or  honour  in  which  tlxrir  owners  are 
hcl<l.     The  use  >.){  by  fur  aciordinj^'  to  is  blill  not  uncouiuion. 


204  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  I. 

Tim.    Well  mock'd. 

Mer.    No,  my  good  lord  ;  he  speaks  the  common  tongue, 
Which  all  men  speak  with  him. 

Tim.  Look,  who  comes  here  : 

Will  you  be  chid  ? 

Enter  Apemantus. 

Jew.  We'll  bear  it,  with  your  lordship. 

Mer.    He'll  spare  none. 

Tim.    Good  morrow  to  thee,  gentle  Apemantus. 
Apem.    Till  I  be  gentle,  stay  thou  for  thy  good  morrow ; 
When  thou  art  Timon's  dog,  and  these  knaves  honest. 

Tim.    Why  dost  thou    call    them    knaves?    thou   know'st 

them  not. 
Apem.    Are  they  not  Athenians? 
Tim.   Yes. 

Apem.    Then  I  repent  not. 
*Jew.    You  know  me,  Apemantus? 

*Apem.    Thou  know'st  I  do  ;  I  call'd  thee  by  thy  name. 
*Tim.    Thou  art  proud,  Apemantus. 

*Apem.    Of  nothing  so  much  as  that  I  am  not  like  Timon. 
*Tim.    Whither  art  going? 

*Apem.    To  knock  out  an  honest  Athenian's  brains. 
*Tim.   That's  a  deed  thou'lt  die  for. 
*Apem.    Right,  if  doing  nothing  be  death  by  the  law. 
*Tim.    How  likest  thou  this  picture,  Apemantus? 
*Apem.    The  best,  for  the  innocence. 
*Tim.    Wrought  he  not  well  that  painted  it? 
*Apem.    He  wrought  better  that  made  the  painter ;  and  yet 
*he's  but  a  filthy  piece  of  work. 
*  Pain.    You're  a  dog. 

*Apem.    Thy  mother's  of  my  generation  :  what's  she,  if  I 
*be  a  dog? 

*Tim.    Wilt  dine  with  me,  Apemantus? 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  205 

*Apem.    No  ;   I  eat  not  lords. 
*Tim.    An  thou  shouklst,  thou'dst  anger  ladies. 
*Ape?n.    O,  they  eat  lords  ;  so  they  come  by  great  bellies. 
*Tim.    That's  a  lascivious  apprehension. 
*Apcm.    So  thou  apprehend'st  it :   take  it  for  thy  labour. 
*Tivi.    How  dost  thou  like  this  jewel,  Apemantus? 
*Apem.    Not  so  well  as  plain-dealing,  which  will  not  cost 
*a  man  a  doit.-^ 

*Tim.    A\'hat  dost  thou  think  'tis  worth? 

* Apc7n.    Not  worth  my  thinking.  —  How  now,  poet ! 

*Poet.    How  now,  philosopher  ! 

*Apem.    Thou  liest. 

*Poet.    Art  not  one  ? 

*Apem.    Yes. 

*Poet.   Then  I  lie  not. 

*Apem.    Art  not  a  poet? 

*  Poet.   Yes. 

*Apem.  Then  thou  liest :  look  in  thy  last  work,  where  thou 
*hast  feign 'd  him  a  worthy  fellow. 

*Poet.    That's  not  feign'd  ;  he  is  so. 

*Apetn.  Yes,  he  is  worthy  of  thee,  and  to  pay  thee  for  thy 
♦labour :  he  that  loves  to  be  flattered  is  worthy  o'  the  flat- 
*terer.     Heavens,  that  I  were  a  lord  ! 

*Tim.    What  wouldst  do  then,  Apemantus? 

*Apcm.  E'en  as  Apemantus  docs  now,  hate  a  lord  with 
*my  heart. 

*Tim.    What,  thyself? 

*Apcm.    Ay. 

*  Tim.    Wherefore  ? 

*Apem.  That  I  had  so  wanted  wit  to  be  a  lord. ^"  —  Art 
•not  thou  a  merchant  ? 

20  Alluding,  perhaps,  to  the  proverb,  "  Plain-dealing  is  a  jewel,  but  they 
who  use  it  die  beggars." 

"^''That  I  had  been  such  a  natural  want-wit  as  to  be  made  a  lord." 


206  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  I. 

*Mer.    Ay,  Apemantus. 

*Ap€m.    Traffic  confound  thee,  if  the  gods  will  not ! 

*Mer.    If  traffic  do  it,  the  gods  do  it. 

*Apem.   Traffic's  thy  god  ;  and  thy  god  confound  thee  ! 

Trumpets  sound  within.     Enter  a  Servant. 
Tim.    What  trumpet's  that? 
Serv.    'Tis  Alcibiades,  and  some  twenty  Horse, 
All  of  companionship. 

Tim.    Pray,  entertain  them  ;  give  them  guide  to  us.  — 

\_Exe7int  some  Attendants, 
You  must  needs  dine  with  me.  —  Go  not  you  hence 
Till  I  have  thank'd  you.  — When  our  dinner's  done, 
Show  me  this  piece.  —  I'm  joyful  of  your  sights.  — 

Enter  Alcibiades  and  the  rest,  with  Attendants. 

Most  welcome,  sir  !  {They  salute. 

Apem.    So,  so,  there  !  — 
Aches ^'  contract  and  starve  your  supple  joints  !  — 
Tliat  there  should  be  small  love  'mongst  these  sweet  knaves. 
And  all  this  courtesy  !     The  strain^-  of  man's  bred  out 
Into  baboon  and  monkey. 

Atcib.    Sir,  you  have  saved  my  longing,  and  I  feed 
Most  hungerly  on  your  sight. 

Tim.  Right  welcome,  sir  ! 

Ere  we  depart, ■'•'  we'll  share  a  bounteous  time 

Apemantus  is  giving  the  reason  why  he  should  hate  himself  if  he  were  a 
lord;  and  it  is  in  character  for  him  to  assign  as  his  reason,  that,  in  order  to 
be  a  lord,  he  must  needs  have  been  born  a  dunce. 

31  Ach  J,  the  plural  of  ache,  was  used  as  a  dissyllable  in  Shakespeare's 
time,  and  was  sounded  like  the  letter  H.  See  vol.  vii.  page  32,  note  85. — 
To  starve  here  means  to  cripple  or  stiffen.  Rheumatic  fevers  sometimes 
so  dry  the  knee-joints  as  to  take  the  suppleness  out  of  them.  See  vol.  vii.  page 
91,  note  56. 

32  Strain  is  stock  or  race.     Often  so.     See  vol.  xiv.  page  109,  note  11. 

83  Depart  ior  part ;  the  two  being  often  used  interchangeably.  See  vol.  x. 
page  40,  note  58. 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  20/ 

In  different  pleasures.     Pray  you,  let  us  in. 

\_Exeunt  all  but  Apemantus. 

*  Enter  tci<o  Lords. 

*/  Lord.    What  time  o'  day  is't,  Apemantus? 

*Apem.   Time  to  be  honest. 

*/  Lord.    The  time  serves  still. 

*Apem.    The  more  accursed  thou,  that  still  omitt'st  it. 

*2  Lord.    Thou  art  going  to  Lord  Timon's  feast? 

*Apem.    Ay,  to  see  meat  fill  knaves,  and  wine  heat  fools. 

*2  Lord.    Fare  thee  well,  fare  thee  well. 

*Apem.   Thou  art  a  fool  to  bid  me  farewell  twice. 

*2  Lord.    Why,  Apemantus  ? 

*Apem.    Shouldst  have  kept  one  to  thyself,  f  )r  I  mean  to 
*give  thee  none. 

*/  Lord.    Hang  thyself  ! 

*Apetn.    No,  I  will  do  nothing  at  thy  bidding  :  make  thy 
•requests  to  thy  friend. 

*2  Lord.   Away,  unpeaceable  dog,  or  I'll  spurn  thee  hence  ! 

*Apem.    I  will  fly,  like  a  dog,  the  heels  o'  the  ass.     \_Exit. 

*i  Lord.    He's  opposite  to  humanity.*     Come,  shall  we 
in, 
And  taste  Lord  Timon's  bounty  ?  he  outgoes 
The  very  heart  of  kindness. 

2  Lord.    He  pours  it  out ;  Plutus,  the  god  of  gold, 
Is  but  his  steward  :  no  meed  ^^  but  he  repays 
Sevenfold  above  itself;  no  gift  to  him 
But  breeds  the  giver  a  return  exceeding 
All  use  of  fiuittance.-"''' 

/  Lord.  The  noblest  mind  he  carries 

That  ever  govcrn'd  man. 

8*  Meed  for  merit  or  desert.     Repeatedly  so.     See  vol.  i.x.  p.igc  98,  note  3. 
'*  "  All  «^£'  0/  quittance"  is  all  customary  requital,  a.\\  usual  returns  in 
discharge  of  obligations.    Sec  vol.  xii.  paK'-  33,  note  a. 


208  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  I. 

2  Lord.  Long  may  he  live 

Ill's  fortunes  !     Shall  we  in  ? 

/  Lord.  I'll  keep  you  company.    \_Exeunt. 

*ScENE  II.  —  The  Same.    A  Room  of  State  in  Timon's  ILouse. 

*LLauiboys  playing  loud  music.  A  great  haiiqiiet  served  in  ; 
*the  Steward  and  others  attending;  then  enter  Timon, 
*Alcibiades,  Lords,  Senators,  and  Ventidius.  Tiien  comes, 
^dropping  after  all,  Apemantus,  discontentedly. 

*  Ve7i.    Most  honour'd  Timon,  it  hath  pleased  the  gods  to 
*remember  my  father's  age,  and  call  him  to  long  peace. 
*He  is  gone  happy,  and  has  left  me  rich  : 

*Then,  as  in  grateful  virtue  I  am  bound 
*To  your  free  heart,  I  do  return  those  talents, 
*Doubled  with  thanks  and  service,  from  whose  help 
*I  derived  liberty. 

*  Titn.  O,  by  no  means, 

*  Honest  Ventidius  ;  you  mistake  my  love  : 

*I  gave  it  freely  ever ;  and  there's  none 

*Can  truly  say  he  gives,  if  he  receives. 

*If  our  betters  play  at  that  game,  we  must  not  dare  to  imitate 

*them  ;  faults  that  are  rich  are  fair.^ 

*Ven.    A  noble  spirit  ! 

*\They  all  stand  ceremoniously  looking  on  Timon. 

*Tim.  Nay,  my  lords,  ceremony  was  but  devised  at  first 
*to  set  a  gloss  on  faint  deeds,  hollow  welcomes,  recanting 
*goodness,  sorry  ere  'tis  shown  ;  but,  where  there  is  true 
*friendship,  there  needs  none.  Pray,  sit ;  more  welcome  are 
*ye  to  my  fortunes  than  my  fortunes  to  me.  \_They  sit. 

1  The  faults  of  rich  persons,  and  which  contribute  to  the  increase  of 
riches,  wear  a  plausible  appearance,  and,  as  the  world  goes,  are  thought  fair, 
but  they  are  faults  notwithstanding.  —  Heath. 


SCENE  11.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  209 

*/  Lord.    My  lord,  we  always  have  confess'd  it. 

*Apevi.    Ho,  ho,  confess'd  it  !  hang'd  it,-  have  you  not? 

*Tiin.    O,  Apemantus  ;  you  arc  welcome. 

*Apem.  No ;  you  shall  not  make  me  welcome  :  I  come 
*to  have  thee  thrust  me  out  of  doors. 

*7)iii.    Fie,  thou'rt  a  churl :  you've  got  a  humour  there 
*Does  not  become  a  man  ;   'tis  much  to  blame.  — 
*They  say,  my  lords,  Ini  furor  brevis  est ;  but  yond  man  is 
*ever  angry.  —  Go,  let  him  have  a  table  by  himself;  for  he 
*does  neither  affect  company,  nor  is  he  fit  for  it,  indeed. 

*  Ape  III.    Let  me  not  stay,  at  thine  apperil,^  Timon  : 
*I  come  t'  observe  ;   I  give  thee  warning  on't. 

*Tiin.  I  take  no  heed  of  thee  ;  thou'rt  an  Athenian,  there- 
*fore  welcome  :  I  myself  would  have  no  power  ;  pr'ylhee,  let 
*niy  meat  make  thee  silent. 

*Ape)n.    I    scorn    thy  meat;    'twould    choke    me,  for"*   I 
*should  ne'er  flatter  thee.  —  O  you  gods,  what  a  number  of 
*men  cat  Timon,  and  he  sees  'em  not  !     It  grieves  me  to  see 
*So  many  dip  their  meat  in  one  man's  blood; 
*And  all  the  madness  is,  he  cheers  them  up  to't. 
*I  wonder  men  dare  trust  themselves  with  men  : 
*Methinks  they  should  invite  them  without  knives;^ 
*Good  for  their  meat,  and  safer  for  their  lives. 
♦There's  much  example  for't ;  the  fellow  that  sits  next  him 
♦now,  parts  bread  with  him,  and  i)ledges  the  breath  of  him 

2  Alluding,  perhaps,  to  a  proverbial  saying  common  in  Shakespeare's 
time,  "  Confess,  and  be  hang'd." 

3  Appcril  is  an  old  word  lo\  peril ;  used  repeatedly  so  by  Jonson. 

*  For  in  its  old  sense  of  because  or  since.  Heath  explains  the  passage 
thus :  "  I  scorn  thy  meat,  which  I  see  is  prepared  on  purpose  to  feed  flatter- 
ers ;  and  therefore  it  would  certainly  cliokc  me,  wlio  am  none." 

6  In  old  times  the  guests  invited  to  a  banquet  were  expected  to  bring 
their  own  knives.  As  [ox  forks,  fingers  supplied  their  place.  —  The  meaning 
of  the  next  line  appears  to  be,  "  If  guests  broiight  no  knives,  they  would 
eat  less  food  and  be  less  apt  to  kill  the  feeder." 


2  TO  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  I. 

*in  a  divided  draught,  is  the  readiest  man  to  kill  him  :  't  has 
*been  proved.  If  I  were  a  huge  man,  I  should  fear  to  drink 
*at  meals ; 

*Lest  they  should  spy  my  windpipe's  dangerous  notes  :^ 
*Great  men  should  drink  with  harness"  on  their  throats. 

*Tim.    \To    a    Lord    who   drhiks  to  him.'\    My  lord,  in 
*heart ;  ^  and  let  the  health  go  round. 

*2  Lord.    Let  it  flow  this  way,  my  good  lord. 

*Apem.    Flow  this   way  !     A  brave  fellow  !    he  keeps  his 
*tides  well.  —  Those  healths  will  make  thee  and  thy  state  look 
*ill,  Timon.  —  Here's  that  which  is  too  weak  to  be  a  sinner, 
*honest  water,  which  ne'er  left  man  i'  the  mire  : 
*This  and  my  food  are  equals ;  there's  no  odds  : 
*  Feasts  are  too  proud  to  give  thanks  to  the  gods. 

*Apem.'Vntus'    Grace. 

*  Immortal  gods,  I  crave  no  pelf; 

*I  pray  for  no  man  but  myself: 

*Grant  I  may  never  prove  so  fond,^ 

*To  trust  man  on  his  oath  or  bond ; 

*0r  a  harlot,  for  her  weeping ; 

*0r  a  dog,  that  seems  a-sleeping ; 

*0r  a  keeper  with  my  freedom  ; 

*0r  my  friends,  if  I  should  need  'em. 

*Amen.     So  fall  to't : 

*Rich  men  sin,  and  I  eat  root.     \_Eats  aiui  drinks. 

*Much  good  dich  i*'  thy  good  heart,  Apemantus  ! 

6  The  "  windpipe's  notes "  were  the  sounds  or  motions  made  by  the 
throat  in  drinking.  Men  ordinarily  used  to  go  with  their  throats  bare. 
Probably  a  quibble  was  intended  on  zuindpipe  and  notes. 

"^  Harness  is  armour.     See  vol.  xi.  page  86,  note  20. 

s  The  meaning  is,  "  Your  health,  my  lord,  in  all  sincerity." 

'■>  Fond  \s  foolish :  commonly  so  in  old  English. 

i**  "  Apparently  a  corruption  of  do  if,  or  may  it  do,"  says  Nares. 


SCENE  II.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  211 

*Tim.    Captain  Alcibiades,  your  heart's  in  the  field  now. 

*Alcib.    My  heart  is  ever  at  your  service,  my  lord. 

*Tivi.  You  had  rather  be  at  a  breakfast  of  enemies  than 
*a  dinner  of  friends. 

*Alcib.  So  they  were  bleeding-new,  my  lord,  there's  no 
*meat  like  'em  :  I  could  wish  my  best  friend  at  such  a  feast. 

*Apem.  Would  all  those  flatterers  were  thine  enemies, 
*then,  that  thou  mightst  kill  'em,  and  bid  me  to  'em  ! 

*/  Lord.  Might  we  but  have  that  happiness,  my  lord, 
*that  you  would  once  use  our  hearts,  whereby  we  might  ex- 
*press  some  part  of  our  zeals,  we  should  think  ourselves  for 
*ever  perfect.^ ^ 

*  Tim.  O,  no  doubt,  my  good  friends,  but  the  gods  them- 
*sclves  have  providetl  that  I  sliall  have  much  help  from  you  : 
*huw  had  you  been  my  friends  else?  why  have  you  not  tliat 
*charitable  title  from  thousands,  did  not  you  chiefly  belong 
*to  my  heart  ?i-  I  have  told  more  of  you  to  myself  than  you 
*canwith  modesty  speak  in  your  own  behalf;  and  thus  flir  I 
*confirm  you.  O  you  gods,  think  I,  what  need  we  have  any 
*friends,  if  we  should  ne'er  have  need  of  'em  ?  they  were  the 
*most  needless  creatures  living,  should  we  ne'er  have  use  for 
*'em ;  and  would  most  resemble  sweet  instruments  hung  up 
*in  cases,  that  keep  their  sounds  to  themselves.  Why,  I 
*have  often  wish'd  myself  poorer,  that  I  might  come  nearer 
*to  you.  We  are  born  to  do  benefits  :  and  what  better  or 
*properer  can  we  call  our  own  than  the  riches  of  our  friends? 
*(),  what  a  precious  comfort  'tis,  to  have  so  many,  like 
*brothers,  commanding  one  another's  fortunes  !  O  joy,  e'en 
*made  away  ere 't  can  be  l)orM  !'•'     Mine  eyes  cannot  hold 

11  That  is,  think  wc  liad  arrived  at  \hc  perfection  of  happiness. 

12  The  meaning  is,  "  Why  do  not  tliousands  more  give  you  tlic  loving 
title  of  friends,  but  that  my  heart  has  a  special  privilege  of  your  friend- 
ship ?  " 

13  Tiiuon  refers  to  the  tears  which,  as  he  is  speaking,  fill  his  eyes,  and  so 


212  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  act  i. 

*out  water,  methinks :  to  forget  their  faults,  I  drink  to 
*you. 

*Apej?i.   Thou  vveep'st  to  make  them  drink,i^  Timon, 

*2  Lord.   Joy  had  the  hke  conception  in  our  eyes, 
*And,  at  that  instant,  Hke  a  babe  sprung  up. 

*Apem.    Ho,  ho  !  I  laugh  to  think  that  babe  a  bastard. 

*3  Lord.    I  promise  you,  my  lord,  you  moved  me  much. 

*  Ape  in.    Much!'^  \Tiicket  sounded  withiii. 
*Tim.    What  means  that  trump?  — 

*  Enter  a  Servant. 

*Ho\v  now  ! 

*Serv.  Please  you,  my  lord,  there  are  certain  ladies  most 
*desirous  of  admittance. 

*Tiin.    Ladies!  what  are  their  wills  ? 

*Serv.  There  comes  with  them  a  forerunner,  my  lord, 
*which  bears  that  office,  to  signify  their  pleasures. 

*Tim.    I  pray,  let  them  be  admitted. 

*  Enter  Cupid. 

*  Ci/p.    Hail  to  the  worthy  Timon,  and  to  all 
*That  of  his  bounties  taste  !  —  The  five  best  senses 
*Acknowledge  thee  their  patron  ;  and  come  freely 
*To  gratulate  thy  plenteous  bosom  :   th'  ear, 

choke  the  joy  that  was  just  coming  to  the  birth.  Shakespeare  has  the  same 
thought  repeatedly.     See  vol.  iv.  page  156,  note  2. 

1*  I  do  not  well  see  the  meaning  of  this.  Perhaps  to  7nake  is  an  instance 
of  the  infinitive  used  gerundively,  and  so  is  equivalent  to  at  making.  This 
would  give  us  a  significant  equivoque,  one  meaning  of  which  is,  "  You  weep 
because  they  are  drinking  you  out  of  house  and  home''  Heath  explains  it 
thus  :  "  The  words  Thou  weep'st  do  not  only  refer  to  the  tears  then  actually 
shed,  but  to  those  future  ones  for  which  Timon  was  laying  the  foundation; 
so  that  the  passage  should  be  interpreted  as  implying  a  prediction  that  the 
excess  of  drinking  to  which  he  was  now  encouraging  his  false  friends,  would 
prove  the  source  of  tears  to  him  flowing  from  real  regret." 

"^^  Much!  was  sometimes  used  as  an  ironical  expression  of  contempt 
and  denial.    See  vol.  xi.  page  167,  note  20. 


SCENE  II.  TIMOX    OF    ATHENS.  213 

*Taste,  touch,  and  smell,  pleased  from  thy  table  rise  : 
*These  only  now  come  but  to  feast  thine  eyes. 

*Tim.    They're    welcome  all;    let  'em   have  kind  admit- 
*tance  :  — 
*Music,  make  known  their  welcome  !  \_Exit  Cupid. 

*/  Lont    You  see,  my  lord,  how  ample  you're  beloved. 

*  Music.     Re-enter  Cupid,  7aifh  a  Masque  of  Ladies  as  Ama- 
*zons  witli  lutes  in  their  hands,  dancing  and  playing. 

*Apem.    Hoy-day,  what  a  sweep  of  \anity  comes  this  way  ! 
*they  dance  !  they  are  mad  women.""'      Like  madness  is  the 
*glory  of  this  life,  as  this  pomp  shows  to  a  little  oil  and  root.''' 
*\Ve   make  ourselves  fools,  to   disport  ourselves  ;  and  spend 
*our  flatteries,  to  drink  those  men,  upon  whose  age  we  void 
*it  up  again,  with  poisonous  spite  and  envy. 
*Who  lives,  that's  not  depraved  or  depraves? 
*Who  dies,  that  bears  not  one  spurn  to  their  graves 
*Of  their  friends'  gift? — -Timon,  were  I  as  thou, 
*I  should  fear,  those  that  dance  before  me  now 
*Would  one  day  stamp  upon  me  :   't  has  been  done  ; 
*Men  shut  their  doors  against  a  setting  Sun. 

*The  Lords  rise  from  the  tahle,  7oith  much  adoring^^  (fVlMos  ; 
*and,  to  show  their  loves,  each  singles  out  an  Amazon,  and 


"5  This  thought  was  probably  borrowed  from  the  puritanical  writers  of 
the  time.  So  Stubbes,  in  his  Anatomic  of  Abuses,  1583  :  "Dauncers,  thought 
to  Vjc  madmen."  Again  :  "  There  were  (saith  Ludovicus  Vivus)  from  far 
countries  certain  men  brought  into  our  jiarls  of  the  world,  who,  when  tliey 
saw  men  daunce,  ran  away,  marvellously  affraid,  crying  out,  and  tliinking 
them  mad." 

1'  The  glory  of  this  life  xsjiist  such  madness,  in  the  eye  of  reason,  as  this 
pomp  appears  when  compared  with  the  frugal  repast  of  one  feeding  on  oil 
and  roots. 

'■'  To  adore  was  used  in  the  sense  of  to  honour  or  to  respect.  So  in  iv  3, 
of  this  play:  "This  yellow  slave  will  knit  and  break  religions;  bless  the 
accursed;  make  the  hnar  lepr()>>y  (Ji/k/v*/."     And  in  Clrecne's   I'li  {iiiotjiie  : 


214  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  I. 

*all  dance  ;  Men  with  Women,  a  lofty  strain  or  two  to  the 
*  hautboys,  and  cease. 

*Tiin.    You  have  done    our   pleasures   much   grace,  fair 
*ladies, 
*Set  a  fair  fashion  on  our  entertainment, 
*Wliich  was  not  half  so  beautiful  and  kind  ; 
*You've  added  worth  unto't  and  lively  lustre, 
*And  entertain'd  me  with  mine  own  device  : 
*I  am  to  thank  you  for't. 

*i  Lady.    My  lord,  you  take  us  even  at  the  best. 

*Apem.  Faith,  for  the  worst  is  filthy  ;  and  would  not  hold 
*taking,  I  doubt  ^^  me. 

*Tim.  Ladies,  there  is  an  idle  banquet  attends  you  :  please 
*you  to  dispose  yourselves. 

*All  Ladies.    Most  thankfully,  my  lord. 

*\_Exei(nt  Cupid  and  Ladies. 

*Tim.    Steward,  — 

*Stew.    My  lord  ? 

*Tim.  The  little  casket  bring  me  hither. 

*Steiu.    Yes,  my  lord.  —  \_Aside.~\   More  jewels  yet  ! 
*There  is  no  crossing  him  in  this  his  humour ; 
*Else  I  should  tell  him,  — well,  i'faith,  I  should, — 
*When  all's  spent,  he'd  be  cross'd  then,^*'  an  he  could. 
*'Tis  pity  bounty  had  not  eyes  behind,-^ 
*That  man  might  ne'er  be  wretched  for  his  mind.  \^Exit. 

*i  Lord.    Where  be  our  men  ? 

*Seru.    Here,  my  lord,  in  readiness. 

"  How  apparel  makes  a  man  respected /  tlic  very  children  in  the  street  do 
adore  me." 

10  To  fear  and  to  suspect  a-TS  among  the  old  senses  of  to  doubt. 

2"  An  equivoque  is  doubtless  intended  here  between  having  inoney  and 
being  crossed  or  thwarted ;  certain  coins  in  tlie  Poet's  time  being  stamped 
with  a  cross  on  one  side,  and  so  called  crosses.     See  vol.  v.  page  37,  note  i. 

21  "  Eyes  behind,"  that  they  might  be  able  to  foresee  the  evils  and  miseries 
that  are  to  come  upon  them. 


SCENE  II.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  215 

*2  Lord.    Our  horses  ! 

*  Re-enter  the  Steward  with  the  easkef. 

*Tim.  O,  my  friends,  I  have  one  word  to  say  to  you. — 
*Look  you,  my  good  lord,  I  must  entreat  you,  honour  me  so 
*much  as  to  advance  this  jewel ;  2-  accept  it  and  wear  it,  kind 
*my  lord. 

*/  Lord.    I  am  so  far  already  in  your  gifts,  — 

*All.   So  are  we  all. 

*  Enter  a  Servant. 

*Serv.  My  lord,  there  are  certain  nobles  of  the  Senate 
*ne\vly  alighted,  and  come  to  visit  you. 

*Tim.   They're  fairly  welcome. 

*Sfew.  I  beseech  your  Honour,  vouchsafe  me  a  word  ;  it 
*does  concern  you  near. 

*Tim.  Near!  why,  then  another  time  I'll  hear  thee:  I 
*l)r'ythce,  let's  be  provided  to  show  them  entertainment. 

*Stew.    \_Aside^    I  scarce  know  how. 

*  Enter  a  sceond  Servant. 

*2  Sent.  May  it  please  your  Honour,  Lord  Lucius,  out 
*of  his  free  love,  hath  presented  to  you  four  milk-white 
*horses,  tra])p'd  in  silver. 

*Tim.  I  shall  accept  them  fairly:  let  the  i)resents  be 
♦worthily  entertain 'd.  — 

*  Enter  a  third  Servant. 

*H()W  now  !  what  news? 

*J  Sen>.  Please  you,  my  lord,  th;it  honourable  gentleman, 
*Lord  Lucullus,  entreats  your  company  to-morrow  to  hunt 
*with  him  ;  and  has  sent  your  Honour  two  brace  of  grey- 
*hounds. 

*Tim.    I'll  hunt  with  him  ;  and  let  them  be  received, 

'-■-  That  is,  cuhaiicc  1/^  valui-,  rai%L-  il  to  honour. 


2l6 


TIMON    Op-    ATHENS. 


*Not  without  fair  reward. 

*Sfe7v.  \_Aside.']  What  will  this  come  to  ?  he  commands 
*us  to  provide,  and  give  great  gifts,  and  all  out  of  an  empty 
*coffer  : 

*Nor  will  he  know  his  purse  ;  or  yield  me  this, 
*To  show  him  what  a  beggar  his  heart  is, 
*Being  of  no  power  to  make  his  wishes  good. 
*His  promises  fly  so  beyond  his  state, 
*That  what  he  speaks  is  all  in  debt ;  he  owes 
*For  every  word  :   he  is  so  kind,  he  now 
*Pays  interest  for't ;  his  land's  put  to  their  books. 
*Well,  would  I  were  put  gently  out  of  office, 
■■'Before  I  were  forced  out  ! 
*Happier  is  he  that  has  no  friend  to  feed 
*Than  such  that  do  e'en  enemies  exceed. 
*I  bleed  inwardly  for  my  lord.  \^Exif. 

*Tim.  You  do  yourselves 

*Much  wrong,  you  bate  too  much  of  your  own  merits.  — 
*Here,  my  lord,  a  trifle  of  our  love. 

*2  Lord.    With  more  than  common  thanks  I  will  receive  it. 
*j  Lord.    O,  he's  the  very  soul  of  bounty  ! 
*Tim.    And  now  I  remember,   my  lord,  you   gave    good 
*words  the  other  day  of  a  bay  courser  I  rode  on  ;   it  is  yours, 
*because  you  liked  it. 

*i  Lord.    O,  I  beseech  you,  pardon  me,  my  lord,  in  that. 
*Tim.    You  may  take  my  word,  my  lord  ;   I  know,  no  mar 
*Can  justly  praise  but  what  he  does  affect : 
*I  weigh  my  friend's  affection  with  mine  own  ; 
*I  tell  you  true.  —  I'll  call  to  you. 
*  All  Lords.    O,  none  so  welcome. 
*Tim.    I  take  all  and  your  several  visitations 
*So  kind  to  heart,  'tis  not  enough  to  give  ; 
*Mcthinks  I  could  deal  kingdoms  to  my  friends, 
*And  ne'er  be  weary.  —  Alcibiades, 


SCENE  II.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  21/ 

*Thou  art  a  soldier,  therefore  seldom  rich ; 
*It  comes  in  charity  to  thee  :   for  all  thy  living 
*Is  'mongst  the  dead  ;  and  all  the  lands  thou  hast 
*Lie  in  a  pitchM  field. 

*Alcil>.    Ay,  tlefiled  land,--^  my  lord. 

*/  Lord.    We  are  so  virtuously  bound  — 

*Tim.    And  so  am  I  to  you. 

*2  Lord.    So  infinitely  endear'd  — 

*Tim.    All  to  you  \~^  —  Lights,  more  lights  ! 

*i  Lord.  The  best  of  happiness, 

*Honour,  and  fortune,  keep  with  you,  Lord  Timon  ! 

*Tim.    Ready  for  his  friends. 

*  \_Exeiint  all  but  Apemantus  and  Timon. 

*Apevi.    What  a  coil's-''  here  ! 
*Serving  of  becks, -•*  and  jutting-out  of  bums  ! 
*I  doubt  whether  their  legs-"  be  worth  the  sums 
*That  are  given  for  'em.     Friendship's  full  of  dregs  : 
*Methinks,  false  hearts  should  never  have  sound  legs. 
*Thus  honest  fools  lay  out  their  wealth  on  courtesies. 

*  Tim.    Now,  Apemantus,  if  thou  wert  not  sullen, 
*I  would  be  good  to  thee. 

*Apem.  No,  I'll  nothing ;  for,  if  I  should  be  bribed  too, 
*there  would  be  none  left  to  rail  upon  thee ;  and  then  thou 
*wouldst  sin  the  faster.  Thou  givest  so  long,  Timon,  I  fear 
*me  thou  wilt  give  away  thyself  in  person  shortly  :  what  need 
*these  feasts,  pomps,  and  vain-glories? 

*Tim.    Nay,  an  you  begin  to  rail  on  society  once,  I  am 

28  A  quibble  on  the  word  pitch  ;  land  defiled,  because  it  is  "  a  pitch' d 
field."  So  in  /  King  Henry  //'.,  ii.  4:  "  This ///f/<,  as  ancient  writers  do 
report,  doth  defile." 

"^^  Probably  meaning,  "All  good  wishes,  all  happiness,  to  you!" 

25  Coil  is  bustle,  stir ;  what  we  caW/iiss.     Sec  vol.  iv.  page  208,  note  4. 

2'  A  beck  is  a  nod,  <i  salutation  with  the  head. 

2"  Playing  on  tlie  word  leg:  a  Ici^  or  wakiiii;  a  leg  was  much  used,  to 
denote  an  act  of  obeisance.    See  vol.  xi.  page  64,  note  47. 


2l8  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  II. 

*sworn  not  to  give  regard  to  you.     Farewell ;  and  come  with 
*better  music.  S^Exit. 

*Apem.    So  ;  thou  wilt  not  hear  me  now  ; 
*Thou  shalt  not  then,  I'll  lock  thy  heaven-"^  from  thee. — 
*0,  that  men's  ears  should  be 
*To  counsel  deaf,  but  not  to  flattery  !  \_Exit. 


ACT   II. 

Scene  I.  —  Athens.     A  Room  in  a  Senator's  House. 

Enter  a  Senator,  with  papers  in  his  hand. 

Sen.    And  late,  five  thousand  :  to  Varro  and  to  Isidore 
He  owes  nine  thousand  ;  besides  my  former  sum, 
Which  makes  it  five-and-twenty.     Still  in  motion 
Of  raging  waste  ?     It  cannot  hold  ;  it  will  not. 
If  I  want  gold,  steal  but  a  beggar's  dog. 
And  give  it  Timon,  why,  the  dog  coins  gold  : 
If  I  would  sell  my  horse,  and  buy  ten  more 
Better  than  he,  why,  give  my  horse  to  Timon, 
Ask  nothing,  give  it  him,  it  foals  me  straight 
Ten  able  horses  :  no  grim  porter  at  his  gate  ;  ^ 
But  rather  one  that  smiles,  and  still  invites 
All  that  pass  by.     It  cannot  hold  ;  no  reason 
Can  found  his  state  in  safety.-  —  Caphis,  ho  ! 

'-8  By  heaven  he  means  good  advice ;  the  only  thing  by  which,  in  his  opin- 
ion, Timo  .  could  be  saved. 

1  It  appears  that  to  be  stern  or  sui-fy  was  a  common  characteristic  of 
porters;  hence  a  smiling  one  was  a  thing  to  be  remarked  upon.  So  in  A 
Knight's  Conjuring,  by  Dekker  :  "You  mistake,  if  you  imagine  that  Plutoe's 
porter  is  like  one  of  those  big  fellowes  that  stand  like  gyants  at  lordes  gates. 
Yet  hee's  surly  as  those  key-turners  are." 

2  Reason  cannot  find  his  fortune  to  have  any  safe  and  solid  foundation. 
—  Johnson. 


SCENE  I  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  219 

Caphis,  I  say  ! 

Enter  Caphis. 

Caph.  Here,  sir  ;  what  is  your  pleasure  ? 

Sen.    Get  on  your  cloak,  and  haste  you  to  Lord  Timon  ; 
Imp6rtune  him  for  my  moneys  :  be  not  ceased"^ 
With  slight  denial ;  nor  then  silenced  when 
Commend  tne  to  your  master,  and  the  cap 
Plays  in  the  right  hand,  thus  :  but  tell  him,  sirrah, 
My  uses  cry  to  me,  I  must  serve  my  turn 
Out  of  mine  own  ;  his  days  and  times  are  past, 
And  my  reliances  on  his  fracted  dates  ^ 
Have  smit  my  credit.     I  love  and  honour  him  ; 
But  must  not  break  my  back  to  lieal  his  finger : 
Immediate  are  my  needs  ;  and  my  relief 
Must  not  be  toss'd  and  turn'd  to  me  in  words. 
But  find  supply  immediate.     Ciet  you  gone  : 
Put  on  a  most  imp6rtunate  aspect, 
A  visage  of  demand  ;  for,  I  do  fear. 
When  every  feather  sticks  in  his  own  wing, 
Lord  Timon  will  be  left  a  naked  gull,^ 
Which''  flashes  now  a  phoenix.     Get  you  gone. 

Capli.    I  go,  sir. 

Sen.  Take  the  bonds  along  with  you, 

And  have  the  dates  in  compt. 

Caph.  I  will,  sir. 

Sen.  Go.  S^E.xtuut. 

■*  The  Poet  repeatedly  uses  to  cease  as  a  transitive  verb;  hence  admitting 
o{\\\z  passive  voice.     See  vol.  viii.  page  248,  note  3. 

•♦  Fracted  dates  are  bonds  that  have  run  past  tlie  dates  specified  for  pay- 
ment, and  so  are  broken. 

6  A  play  on  the  woxtX  f;ull,  which  meant  a  bird  vc\^l  a  dupe.  Defined  by 
Wilbraham,  in  his  .Utempt  at  a  Glossary,  &c. :  "  A  naked  gull ;  so  are  called 
all  nestling  birds  in  quite  an  unfledged  state." 

6  IVAicA  for  wAo,  referring  to  Timon.  The  relatives  were  used  indis- 
criminately. 


220  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  II. 

Scene  II.  —  Tlie  Same.     A  Hall  in  Timon's  House. 

Enter  the  Steward,  with  many  bills  in  his  hand. 

Stew.    No  care,  no  stop  !  so  senseless  of  expense, 
That  he  will  neither  know  how  to  maintain  it, 
Nor  cease  his  flow  of  riot ;  takes  no  account 
How  things  go  from  him  ;  no  reserve,  no  care 
Of  what  is  to  continue  :   never  mind 
Was  to  be  so  unwise,  to  be  so  kind.^ 
What  shall  be  done?  he  will  not  hear,  till  feel : 
I  must  be  round ^  with  him,  now  he  comes  from  hunting. 
Fie,  fie,  fie,  fie  ! 

Enter  Caphis,  and  the  Servants  <y  Isidore  and  \AVi.^o. 

Caph.  Good  even,  Varro  :^  what. 

You  come  for  money? 

Var.  Serv.  Is't  not  your  business  too? 

Caph.    It  is  ;  — -  and  yours  too,  Isidore? 

Isid.  Sen'.  It  is  so. 

Caph.    Would  we  were  all  discharged  ! 

Var.  Serv.    I  fear  it. 

Caph.    Here  comes  the  lord. 

Enter  Tlmon,  Alcibiades,  and  Lords,  o^r. 

Ti>n.    So  soon  as  dinner's  done  we'll  forth  again. 
My  Alcibiades.  —  With  me?  what  is  )Our  will? 

1  One  of  these  infinitives,  I  am  not  certain  which,  but  probably  the  latter, 
appears  to  be  used  gerundively.  So  that  the  meaning  may  come  something 
thus :  "  Never  mind  was  formed,  or  fated,  to  be  so  unwise  by  beh/gso  kind." 
Hanmer,  however,  sets  a  comma  after  Was.  This  makes  the  sense  a  little 
different,  thus  :  Never  was  a  mind  formed  to  be  so  kind  by  being  so  unwise. 
See  Critical  Notes. 

2  Round  is  plain-spoken,  doivnright.     Often  so. 

3  Servants  were  often  addressed  by  the  name  of  their  masters.  —  Good 
even,  ox  good  den,  was  the  common  salutation  after  ttoon,  or  from  the  time 
when  good  tnorning,  or  good  morrow,  ceased  to  be  proper. 


SCENE  II.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  221 

Caph.    My  lord,  here  is  a  note  of  certain  dues. 

Tim.   Dues  !     Whence  are  you  ? 

Caph.  Of  Athens  here,  my  lord. 

Tim.    Go  to  my  steward. 

Caph.    Please  it  your  lordship,  he  hath  put  me  off 
To  the  succession  of  new  days  this  month  : 
My  master  is  awaked  by  great  occasion 
To  call  upon  his  own  ;  and  humbly  prays  you, 
That  with  your  other  noble  parts  you'll  suit 
In  giving  him  his  right. 

Tim.  Mine  honest  friend,     * 

I  pr'ythee,  but  repair  to  me  next  morning. 

Caph.    Nay,  good  my  lord.  — 

Tim.  Contain  thyself,  good  friend. 

Var.  Serv.    One  Varro's  servant,  my  good  lord,  — 

hid.  Sen'.  From  Isidore  : 

He  humbly  prays  your  speedy  i)ayment,  — 

Caph.    If  you  did  know,  my  lord,  my  master's  wants,  — 

Var.  Sen>.    'Twas  due  on  forfeiture,  my  lord,  six  weeks 
And  past,  — 

/sit/.  .Sen'.    Your  steward  puts  me  off,  my  lord ; 
And  I  am  sent  expressly  to  your  lordship. 

Tim.    Give  me  breath.  — 
I  do  beseech  you,  good  my  lords,  kcc])  on  ; 
I'll  wait  upon  you  instandy.  —  \_F.xeuiit  .\i,(II5Iade.s  and  Lords. 
[7)'  the  Stew.]   Come  hither:   pray  you. 
How  goes  the  world,  that  I  am  thus  encounter'd 
With  clamorous  demands  of  date-broke  bonds, 
.\nd  the  detention  of  long-since-due  debts, 
Against  my  honour. 

Ste7o.  Please  you,  gentlemen, 

The  time  is  unagreeal)le  to  this  business  : 
\'our  importunacy  cease  till  after  dinner; 
That  I  may  make  his  lordship  understand 


222  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  ii. 

Wherefore  you  are  not  paid. 

Tifn.  Do  so,  my  friends. — 

See  tliem  well  entertain'd.  *\_Exit. 

^Stew.  Pray  you,  draw  near.  \_Exit. 

*  Caph.  Stay,  stay,  here  comes  the  Fool  with  Apemantus  : 
*let's  ha'  some  sport  with  'em. 

*  Var.  Serv.    Hang  him,  he'll  abuse  us. 
*Isid.  Serv.    A  plague  upon  him,  dog  ! 

*  Enter  Apemantus  and  Fool.'* 

*  Var.  Serv.    How  dost,  Fool  ? 
*Apem.    Dost  dialogue  with  thy  shadow? 

*  Var.  Serv.    I  speak  not  to  thee. 

*Apem.    No,  'tis  to  thyself. —  \To  the  Fool.]   Come  away. 

*Isid.  Serv.  \To  Var.  Serv.'\  There's  the  Fool  hangs  on 
*your  back  already. 

*Apem.    No,  thou  stand'st  single,  thou'rt  not  on  him  yet. 

*Caph.    Who's  the  fool  now? 

*Apem.  He  last  ask'd  the  question.  —  Poor  rogues,  and 
*usurers'  men  !  bawds  between  gold  and  want ! 

*All  Serv.    What  are  we,  Apemantus  ? 

*Apem.    Asses. 

*  Ail  Serv.    Why? 

* Apem.  That  you  ask  me  what  you  are,  and  do  not  know 
*yourselves.  —  Speak  to  'em.  Fool. 

*Fool.    How  do  you,  gentlemen  ? 

*All  Serv.  Gramercies,^  good  Fool :  how  does  your  mis- 
*tre^s? 


■*  This  Fool,  and  also  the  Page  who  enters  a  little  after,  appear  to  be  the 
servants  or  the  appendages  of  some  courtesan  or  some  bawd.  See  vol.  vi. 
page  155,  note  20. 

5  Gramercies  is,  properly,  great  thanks  ;  from  the  French  grand  inerci. 
The  word  is  commonly  used  in  the  singular,  as  a  little  after, 


SCENE  U.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  223 

*FooL    She's  e'en  setting  on  water  to  scald  such  chickens 
*as  you  are/'     Would  we  could  see  you  at  Corinth  ! " 
*Apem.    Good  !  gramercy. 
*Fool.    Look  you,  here  comes  my  mistress'  page. 

*  Enter  Page. 

*Page.  \_To  the  Fool.]  Why,  how  now,  captain  !  what  do 
*you  in  this  wise  company?  —  How  dost  thou,  Apemantus? 

* Apem.  Would  I  had  a  rod  in  my  mouth,  that  I  might 
*answer  thee  profitably. 

*  Page.  Pr'ythee,  Apemantus,  read  me  the  superscription 
*of  these  letters  :  I  know  not  which  is  which. 

*Apem.    Canst  not  read? 

*Page.    No. 

*Apem.  There  will  little  learning  die,  then,  that  day  thou 
*art  hanged.  This  is  to  Lord  Timon  ;  this  to  Alcibiades. 
*Go  ;  thou  wast  born  a  bastard,  and  thou'lt  die  a  bawd. 

*  Page.  Thou  wast  whelp'd  a  dog,  and  thou  shalt  famish, 
*a  dog's  death.     Answer  not,  I  am  gone. 

*  Apem.  E'en  so  thou  outrunn'st  grace.  \^Exit  Page.]  — 
*Fool,  I  will  go  with  you  to  Lord  Timon's.^ 

*F(>ol.    Will  you  leave  me  there  ? 

*Ape7n.  If  Timon  stay  at  home.  —  You  three  serve  three 
*usurers  ? 

*  All  Sen'.    Ay  ;  would  they  served  us  ! 

*  Ape  in.  So  would  \,  —  as  good  a  trick  as  ever  hangman 
*served  thief. 

'  An  equivoque,  alluding  to  the  scalding  of  chickens  to  get  the  feathers 
off,  and  also  to  the  sweating-tub  used  in  curing  a  certain  disease;  which 
tui),  according  lo  Randlc  I  lolnic,  persons  "  were  put  into,  not  to  boyl  up  to 
an  licightli,  hut  to  parboyl."     See  vol.  vi.  page  192,  note  5. 

'  Corinth  here  stands  for  a  liouse  of  iil-faiiu.- ;  the  character  of  the  Corin- 
Iliian  women  having  been  such,  that  the  name  came  to  mean  a  prostitute. 

8  There  appears  to  be  some  strange  confusion  here.  The  speakers  are 
already  at  linions,  the  scene  being  in  Timon's  house.    See  preface. 


224  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  II. 

*FooL    Are  you  three  usurers'  men  ? 

*All  Serv.    Ay,  Fool. 

*FooL  I  think  no  usurer  but  has  a  fool  to^  his  servant  : 
*my  mistress  is  one,  and  I  am  her  Fool.  When  men  come 
*to  borrow  of  your  masters,  they  approach  sadly,  and  go 
*away  merrily ;  but  they  enter  my  mistress'  house  merrily, 
*and  go  away  sadly  :  the  reason  of  this  ? 

*  Var.  Serv.    I  could  render  one. 

* Apem.  Do  it,  then,  that  we  may  account  thee  a  whore- 
*master  and  a  knave  ;  which  notwithstanding,  thou  shalt  be 
*no  less  esteemed. 

*Var.  Serv.    What  is  a  whoremaster,  Fool? 

*FooL  A  fool  in  good  clothes,  and  something  like  thee. 
*'Tis  a  spirit :  sometime't  appears  like  a  lord ;  sometime 
*like  a  lawyer  ;  sometime  like  a  philosopher,  with  two  stones 
*more  than's  artificial  one  :  ^^  he  is  very  often  like  a  knight ; 
*and,  generally,  in  all  shapes  that  man  goes  up  and  down  in 
*from  fourscore  to  thirteen,  this  spirit  walks  in. 

*  Var.  Serv.    Thou  art  not  altogether  a  fool. 

*FooL  Nor  thou  altogether  a  wise  man  :  as  much  foolery 
*as  I  have,  so  much  wit  thou  lackest. 

*Apem.    That  answer  might  have  become  Apemantus. 

*  All  Serv.    Aside,  aside  ;  here  comes  Lord  Timon. 

*  Re-enter  Timon  and  the  Steward. 
*Apem.    Come  with  me.  Fool,  come. 

*Fool.  I  do  not  always  follow  lover,  elder  brother,  and 
*woman  ;  sometime  the  philosopher. 

*\_Exeiint  Apemantus  and  Fool. 
Stew.    Pray  you,  walk  near;   Fll  speak  with  you  anon. 

\_Exeunt  Servants. 

9  Here  to  is  equivalent  to  as  or  for.  Often  so.  See  vol.  vii.  page  41, 
note  9. 

1"  Meaning  the  philosopher's-stone,  which  was  the  grand  object  of  al- 
chemical research,  and  which  was  much  sought  after  in  the  Poet's  time. 


SCENE  ir.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  22$ 

Tim.    You  make  me  marvel :  wherefore  ere  this  time 
I  lad  you  not  fully  laid  my  state  before  me  ; 
That  I  might  so  have  rated  my  expense 
As  I  had  leave  of  means  ? 

Ste-iV.  You  would  not  hear  me  ; 

At  many  leisures  I  proposed. 

Tun.  Go  to  : 

Perchance  some  single  vantages  you  took, 
AVhen  my  indisposition  put  you  back  ; 
And  that  unaptness  made  your  minister, ^ 
Thus  t,)  excuse  yourself. 

Stew.  O  my  good  lord, 

.'\t  many  times  I  brought  in  my  accounts, 
Laid  them  before  you  \  you  would  throw  them  off, 
And  say,  you  found  them  in  mine  honesty. 
When,  for  some  trifling  present,  you  have  bid  me 
Return  so  mudi,  I've  shook  my  head  and  wept ; 
Yea,  'gainst  th'  authority  of  manners,  pray'd  you 
To  hold  your  hand  more  close  :  I  did  endure 
Not  seldom,  nor  no  slight  checks,  when  I  have 
Prompted  you,  in  the  ebb  of  your  estate, 
.\nd  your  great  flow  of  debts.     My  dear-loved  lord, 
Though  you  hear  now,  yet  now's  a  time  too  late  ; 
The  greatest  of  your  having  lacks  a  half 
To  pay  your  present  debts. 

Tim.  Let  all  ni}-  land  be  sold. 

Steru.    'Tis  all  engaged,  some  forfeited  and  gone  ; 
.A.nd  v/hat  remains  will  hardly  stop  the  mouth 
Of  present  dues  :   the  future  comes  apace  : 
What  shall  defend  the  interim?  and  at  length 
Mow  goes  our  reckoning? 

7'itn.    To  I.aceda;nu)n  did  my  land  extend. 

H  The  construction  is,  "  And  you  ni:i<ie  that  unaptness  your  minister.' 
That  is,  you  made  my  indisposition  serve  your  purpose. 


226  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  II. 

Stew.    O  my  good  lord,  the  world  is  but  a  word  : 
Were  it  all  yours  to  give  it  in  a  breath, 
How  quickly  were  it  gone  ! 

Tim.  You  tell  me  true. 

Stew.    If  you  suspect  my  husbandry  or  falsehood. 
Call  me  before  th'  exactest  auditors, 
And  set  me  on  the  proof.    So  the  gods  bless  me. 
When  all  our  offices  i~  have  been  oppress'd 
AVith  riotous  feeders  ;  when  our  vaults  have  wept 
AVith  drunken  spilth  of  wine  ;  when  every  room 
Hath  blazed  with  lights  and  bray'd  witli  minstrelsy  ; 
I  have  retired  me  to  a  wakeful  couch 
And  set  mine  eyes  at  flow. 

Twi.  Pr'ythee,  no  more. 

Stew.    Heavens,  have  I  said,  the  bounty  of  this  lord  ! 
How  many  prodigal  bits  have  slaves  and  peasants 
This  night  englutted  !     Who  is  not  Lord  Timon's? 
What  heart,  head,  sword,  force,  means,  but  is  Lord  Timon's  ? 
Great  Timon,  noble,  worthy,  royal  Timon  ! 
Ah,  when  the  means  are  gone  that  buy  this  praise. 
The  breath  is  gone  whereof  this  praise  is  made  : 
Feast-won,  fastdost ;  one  cloud  of  winter  showers. 
These  flies  are  couch'd. 

Tim.  Come,  sermon  me  no  further : 

No  villainous  bounty  yet  hath  pass'd  my  hands ; 
Unwisely,  not  ignobly,  have  I  given. 
Why  dost  thou  weep?     Canst  thou  the  conscience  lack. 
To  think  I  shall  lack  friends?  i-'     Secure  thy  heart ; 

1^  Offices  here  means  those  rooms  of  a  house  which  are  used  for  keeping 
and  preparing  all  sorts  of  gastric  refreshments  or  table-cheer.  So  in  Othello, 
li.  2:  "All  offices  are  open;  and  there  is  full  liberty  o{  feasting  from  this 
hour  of  five  till  the  bell  have  told  eleven."     See  vol.  x.  page  145,  note  12. 

13  A  variation  of  Burke's  aphoristic  saying :  "  He  that  accuses  all  man- 
kind of  corruption  ought  to  remember  that  he  is  sure  to  convict  only  one." 


SCENE  II.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  22/ 

If  I  would  broach  the  vessels  of  my  love, 
And  try  the  argument ''  of  hearts  by  borrowing, 
Men  and  men's  fortunes  could  I  frankly  use 
As  I  can  bid  thee  speak. 

Stew.  Assurance  bless  your  thoughts  !  ^^ 

Tim.    And,  in  some  sort,  these  wants  of  mine  are  crown'd,"^ 
That  I  account  them  blessings  ;  for  by  these 
Shall  I  try  friends  :   you  shall  perceive  how  you 
Mistake  my  fortunes  ;  I  am  wealthy  in  my  friends.  — 
Within  there  !  Flavius  !  Servilius  ! 

Enter  Flavius,  Servilius,  and  other  Servants. 

Servants.    My  lord  ?  my  lord  ?  — 

Tim.  I  will  dispatch  you  severally  :  *\_To  Servil.]  you  to 
*Lord  Lucius  ;  —  \To  Flav.]  to  Lord  LucuUus  you  ;  I  hunted 
*with  his  Honour  to-day  ;  —  \^To  another  Serv.]  you  to  Sem- 
*pronius  :  commend  me  to  their  loves  ;  and,  I  am  proud,  say, 
*that  my  occasions  have  found  time  to  use  'em  toward  a 
*supply  of  money  :  let  the  re(}uest  be  fifty  talents. 

*Fiav.    As  you  have  said,  my  lord. 

\_Exit  with  Servilius  and  another  Servunt. 

*Ste7ci.    \_Aside.'\    Lord  Lucius  and  Lucullus?  hum  ! 

Tim.    \_To  another  Serv.]    Go  you,  sir,  to  the  Senators  ; 
Of  wliom,  even  to  the  State's  best  health,  I  have 
Deserved  this  hearing  ;  bid  'em  send  o'  the  instant 
A  thousand  talents  to  me.  [/s.v// Servant. 

Stew.  I  have  been  bold  — 


—  "Secure  thy  licart "  is  equivalent  to  make  tliy  lieart  easy,  that  is,  disburden 
it  of  care.  So  Sliakcspcarc  often  uses  the  adjective  secure  in  the  sense 
of  careless  or  negitji^ent. 

1^  .Argument  for  contents.  The  word  is  still  used,  to  signify  the  contents 
of  a  book  or  a  poem. 

1''  That  is,  may  your  confidencj  in  others  prove  a  blessing  to  you. 

18  Crown'd  here  is  dignified  or  made  noble ;  raised  to  honour. 


228  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  II. 

For  that  I  knew  it  the  most  general  i~  way  — 
To  them  to  use  your  signet  and  your  name ; 
But  they  do  shake  their  heads,  and  I  am  here 
No  richer  in  return. 

Tim.  Is't  true  ?  can't  be  ? 

Steiu.    They  answer,  in  a  joint  and  corporate  voice, 
That  now  they  are  at  fall,  want  treasure,  cannot 
Do  what  they  would  ;  are  sorry,  —  you  are  honourable,  — 
But  yet  they  could  have  wish'd  —  they  know  not  what ;  — 
Something  hath  been  amiss,  —  a  noble  nature 
May  catch  a  wrench,  —  would  all  were  well,  —  'tis  pity  : 
And  so,  intending  ^^  other  serious  matters. 
After  distasteful  looks  and  these  hard  fractions,!^ 
With  certain  half-caps  and  cold-moving  nods 
They  froze  me  into  silence. 

Tim.  You  gods,  reward  them  !  — 

I  pr'ythee,  man,  look  cheerly.     These  old  fellows 
Have  their  ingratitude  in  them  hereditary  : 
Their  blood  is  caked,  'tis  cold,  it  seldom  flows  ; 
'Tis  lack  of  kindly  warmth  they  are  not  kind ; 
And  nature,  as  it  grows  again  toward  earth, 
Is  fashion'd  for  the  journey,  dull  and  heavy.  — 
\_To   another   Serv.]    Go    to    Ventidius,  ■ — {^To    the    Stew.] 

Pr'ythee,  be  not  sad, 
Thou'rt  true  and  honest ;  ingeniously  ^'^  I  speak, 
No  blame  belongs  to  thee  :  —  \^To  the  same  Serv.]    Ventidius 

lately 
Buried  his  father ;  by  whose  death  he's  stepp'd 

1''  General  in  the  sense  of  usual  or  common. 

'^'^  Intending  io-:  pretending :  the  two  being  often  used  interchangeably. 
See  vol.  ix.  page  218,  note  2. 

19  Fractions  here  means  broke?t  flints,  fragments  of  speech.  —  A  half-cap 
is  a  cap  slightly  moved,  not  taken  off;  a  ceremony  of  respect,  with  a  sneer 
lurking  behind  it. 

20  Ingenious  in  its  old  sense  of  ingenuous.    See  vol.  xiv.  page  297,  note  28. 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  229 

Into  a  great  estate  :  when  he  was  poor, 

Imprison'd,  and  in  scarcity  of  friends, 

I  clear'd  him  with  five  talents  :  greet  him  from  me ; 

Bid  him  suppose  some  good  necessity 

Touches  his  friend,  which  craves  to  be  remember'd 

With  tliose  five  talents.  — -  \^Exit  Serv. 

[71?  the  Stew.]    That  had,  give't  these  fellows 
To  whom  'tis  instant  due.     Ne'er  speak,  or  think, 
That  Timon's  fortunes  'mong  his  friends  can  sink. 

Stew.    I    would    I    could    not    think't ;    that    thought    is 
bounty's  foe  : 
Being  free  itself,  it  thinks  all  others  so.  \_Exeunt. 


ACT    III. 

*SCENE  I.  —  Athens.     A  Room  in  Lucullus's  House. 

*Flavius  waitijii^.     Enter  a  Servant  to  him. 

*Seni.  I  have  told  my  lord  of  you  ;  he  is  coming  down 
*to  you. 

* Flav.    I  thank  you,  sir. 

*  Enter  Lucullus. 

*Seni.    Here's  my  lord. 

*Lucul.  \_Asit/e.^  One  of  Lord  Timon's  men?  a  gift,  I 
♦warrant.  Why,  this  hits  right  ;  I  dreamt  of  a  silver  basin 
*and  ewer  lo-night.  —  P'lavius,  honest  Flavius  ;  you  are  very 
•respectively  '  welcome,  sir.  —  I'^ill  me  some  wine.  [Exit 
*Serv.]  — And  how  does  that    honourable,  complete,  free- 

1  Rtipectivtly  {ox  respectfully.  So  in  Defoe's  Colonel  jtuti:,  1738:  "She 
bow'd  to  me  very  respectively." 


230  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  III. 

*hearted  gentleman  of  Athens,  thy  very  bountiful  good  lord 
*and  master? 

*F/av.    His  health  is  well,  sir. 

*  Luc  III.  I  am  right  glad  that  his  health  is  well,  sir :  and 
*what  hast  thou  there  under  thy  cloak,  pretty  Flavins  ? 

*.Flav.  Faith,  nothing  but  an  empty  box,  sir  ;  which,  in 
*my  lord's  behalf,  I  come  to  entreat  your  Honour  to  supply  ; 
*who,  having  great  and  instant  occasion  to  use  fifty  talents, 
*hath  sent  to  your  lordship  to  furnish  him,  nothing  doubting 
*your  present  assistance  therein. 

* Liicul.  La,  la,  la,  la  ;  nothiui^  doubting,  says  he  ?  Alas, 
*good  lord  !  a  noble  gentleman  'tis,  if  he  would  not  keep  so 
*good  a  house.  Many  a  time  and  often  I  ha'  dined  with 
*him,  and  told  him  on't ;  and  come  again  to  supper  to  him, 
*of  purpose  to  have  him  spend  less  \  and  yet  he  would  em- 
*brace  no  counsel,  take  no  warning  by  my  coming.  Every 
*man  has  his  fault,  and  honesty  -  is  his  :  I  ha'  told  him  on't, 
*but  I  could  ne'er  get  him  from't. 

*  Re-enter  Servant,  with  wine. 

*Sefv.    Please  your  lordship,  here  is  the  wine. 

* Luciil.  Flavius,  I  have  noted  thee  always  wise.  Here's 
*to  thee.  \_Drinks,  ami  then  giz^es  him  wine. 

*F/av.    Your  lordship  speaks  your  pleasure. 

* Lucul.  I  have  observed  thee  always  for  a  towardly  prompt 
*spirit,  — •  give  thee  thy  due,  —  and  one  that  knows  what  be- 
*longs  to  reason  ;  and  canst  use  the  time  well,  if  the  time  use 
*thec  well :  good  parts  in  thee.  —  [7T;  Serv.]  Get  you  gone, 
*sirrali.  [Exit  Serv.]  —  Draw  nearer,  honest  Flavius.  Thy 
*  lord's  a  bountiful  gentleman  :  but  thou  art  wise  ;  and  thou 
*knovvest  well  enough,  although  thou  comest  to  me,  that  this 
*is  no  time  to  lend  money  ;  especially  upon  bare  friendship, 

2  Honesty  for  liberality  ox  generosity.  So  Baret :  "  That  nobleness  0/ spirit 
or  honesty  that  free-born  men  have." 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  23 1 

*  without  security.  Here's  three  soUdares  ^  for  thee  :  good 
*boy,  wink  at  me,  and  say  thou  saw'st  me  not.  Fare  thee 
*well. 

*Flav.    Is't  possible  the  world  should  so  much  differ, 
*And  we  alive  that  lived  ?^     Fly,  damned  baseness, 
*To  him  that  worships  thee  !         \Throwing  the  money  back. 

*Li/cul.  Ha  !  now  I  see  thou  art  a  fool,  and  fit  for  thy 
♦master.  \_Exit. 

*Flav.    May  these  add  to  the  number  that  may  scald  thee  ! 
*Let  molten  coin  be  thy  damnation,^ 
*Thou  disease  of  a  friend,  and  not  himself ! 
*Has  friendship  such  a  faint  and  milky  heart, 
*It  turns  in  less  than  two  nights?     O  you  gods, 
*I  feel  my  master's  passion  !^     Why,  this  slave 
*Unto  this  hour  has  my  lord's  meat  in  him  : 
*\Vhy  should  it  thrive,  and  turn  to  nutriment 
*In  him,  when  he  is  turn'd  to  poison?     O, 
*May  disease  only  work  upon't  !  and,  when 
*He's  sick  to  death,  let  not  that  part  ofs  nature 
*Which  my  lord  paid  for  be  of  any  power 
*To  expel  sickness,  but  prolong  his''  hour  !  \^RMt. 

3  AiZ/rfarif J  was  probably  formed  by  the  author  from  the  Italian  solidc, 
which  Florio  defines  "  a  coine  called  a  sould  or  shilling." 

<  Meaning,  probably,  "  Is  it  possible  the  world  should  have  grown  so 
different  during  the  time  that  we  have  lived  ?  " 

6  The  covetous  and  avaricious  were  represented  as  being  punished  in 
Hell  by  having  melted  gold  poured  down  their  throats.  So  in  an  old  bal- 
lad, The  Dead  Man's  Sottf; :  "  Ladles  full  of  w/^/Z^i^^'-tJ/aT  were  i^ourcd  down 
their  throats." 

8  Passion  is  here  used  in  its  original  sense  of  suffering;  or  anguish. 

■'  His,  again,  for  its,  referring  to  sickness.  The  speaker's  imprecation  is, 
that  the  meat  of  Timon's  which  Lucullus  has  in  him,  or  the  strength  derived 
from  it,  may  only  serve  to  feed  his  sickness,  an!  thus  prolong  its  duration. 


232  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  III, 

*ScENE  II. —  The  Same.     A  publie  Place. 
*  Enter  Lucius,  with  three  Strangers. 

*Lnc.  Who,  the  Lord  Timon  ?  he  is  my  very  good  friend, 
*and  an  honourable  gentleman. 

*/  Strati.  We  know  him  for  no  less,  though  we  are  but 
*strangers  to  him.  But  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  my  lord,  and 
*which  I  hear  from  common  rumours  :  Now  Lord  Timon's 
*  happy  hours  are  done  and  past,  and  his  estate  shrinks  from 
*him. 

*Luc.  Fie,  no,  do  not  believe  it ;  he  cannot  want  for 
money. 

*2  Stran.  But  believe  you  this,  my  lord,  that,  not  long 
*ago,  one  of  his  men  was  with  the  Lord  LucuUus  to  borrow 
*fifty  talents  ;  nay,  urged  extremely  for't,  and  showed  what 
*necessity  belonged  to't,  and  yet  was  denied. 

* Ljic.    How  ! 

* 2  Stran.    I  tell  you,  denied,  my  lord. 

*  Luc.  What  a  strange  case  was  that  !  now,  before  the 
*gods,  I  am  ashamed  on't.  Denied  that  honourable  man  ! 
*there  was  very  little  honour  show'd  in't.  For  my  own  part, 
*I  must  needs  confess,  I  have  received  some  little  kindnesses 
*from  him,  as  money,  plate,  jewels,  and  such-like  trifles, 
*nothing  comparing  to  his ;  yet,  had  he  mistook  him,  and 
*sent  to  me,'  I  should  ne'er  have  denied  his  occasion  so 
*many  talents. 

*  Enter  Servilius. 

*Sennl.  See,  by  good  hap,  yonder's  my  lord  ;  I  have  swet 
*to  see  his  Honour.  —  \_To  Lucius.]   My  honour'd  lord, — 

*  Luc.    Servilius  !  you  are  kindly  met,  sir.     Fare  thee  well : 

1  The  meaning  is,  "  Had  Timon,  by  mistake,  applied  to  me,  I  should  not 
have  denied  him,  thougli  the  favours  I  have  received  from  him  are  but  few 
compared  to  those  he  has  conferred  upon  Lucullus." 


SCENE  II.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  2^^ 

*commend    me    to    thy  honourable    virtuous  lord,  my  very 
*exc[uisite  friend. 

*Sennl.    May  it  please  your  Honour,  my  lord  hath  sent  — 

*Luc.  Ha  !  what  has  he  sent?  I  am  so  much  endeared 
*to  that  lord  ;  he's  ever  sending  :  how  shall  I  thank  him, 
*think'st  thou?     And  what  has  he  sent  now? 

*Servil.  'Has  only  sent  his  present  occasion  now,  my  lord  ; 
*requesting  your  lordship  to  supply  his  instant  use  with  fifty 
*talents. 

*  Luc.    I  know  his  lordship  is  but  merry  with  me  ; 
*He  cannot  want  fifty-five  hundred  talents. 

*Sen'il.    But  in  the  mean  time  he  wants  less,  my  lord. 
*If  his  occasion  were  not  virtuous, 
*I  should  not  urge  it  half  so  fiailhfiilly. 

*Luc.    Dost  thou  speak  seriously,  Servilius? 

*Sei~inl.   Upon  my  soul,  'tis  true,  sir. 

*Liic.  ^Vhat  a  wicked  beast  was  I  to  disfurnish  myself 
*against  such  a  good  time,  when  I  might  ha'  shown  myself 
*honourable  !  how  unluckily  it  ha[)[)en'd,  that  I  should  pur- 
*chase  the  day  before,  and,  for  a  little  part,  undo  a  great  deal 
*of  honour  !  Servilius,  now,  before  the  gods,  I  am  not  able 
*to  do't,  —  the  more  beast,  I  say  :  I  was  sending  to  use  Lord 
*Timon  myself,  these  gentlemen  <  an  witness  ;  but  I  would 
*not,  for  the  wealth  of  Athens,  I  had  done't  now.  ('ommend 
*me  bountifully  to  iiis  good  lordshi[)  :  and  I  hope  his  Honour 
*will  conceive  the  fairest  of  me,  because  I  have  no  power  to 
*be  kind.  And  tell  him  this  from  me  :  T  count  it  one  of  my 
•greatest  afflictions,  say,  that  1  cannot  ])leasure  such  an  hon- 
*ourable  gentleman.  Oood  Servilius,  will  you  befriend  me  so 
*far,  as  to  use  mine  own  words  to  him? 

*ServiL    Yes,  sir,  I  shall. 

*Luc.    I'll  ]o(;k  you  out  a  good  turn.  Servilius. — 

*  [  Exit  Servilius. 
•True,  as  you  said,   Timoii  is  shrunk  indeed  ; 


234  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  III. 

*And  he  that's  once  denied  will  hardly  speed.  \^Exit. 

*i  Stran.    Did  you  observe  this,  Hostilius  ? 

*2  Stran.    Ay,  too  well. 

*i  Stran.    Why,  this 
*Is  the  world's  soul ;  and  just  of  the  same  piece 
*Is  every  flatterer's  spirit.     Who  can  call  him 
*His  friend  that  dips  in  the  same  dish?  for,  in 
*My  knowing,  Timon  has  been  this  lord's  father, 
*And  kept  his  credit  with  his  purse ; 
*Supported  his  estate  ;  nay,  Timon's  money 
*Has  paid  his  men  their  wages  :   he  ne'er  drinks, 
*But  Timon's  silver  treads  upon  his  lip  ; 
*And  yet  —  O,  see  the  monstrousness  of  man 
*When  he  looks  out  in  an  ungrateful  shape  !  — 
*  He  does  deny  him,  in  respect  of  his, 
*What  charitable  men  afford  to  beggars.^ 

*j  Stran.    Religion  groans  at  it., 

*/  Stran.  For  mine  own  part, 

*I  never  tasted  Timon  in  my  life, 
*Nor  e'er  came  any  of  his  bounties  over  me, 
*To  mark  me  for  his  friend  ;   yet,  I  protest, 
*For  his  right  noble  mind,  illustrious  virtue, 
*And  honourable  carriage, 
*Had  his  necessity  made  use  of  me, 
*I  would  have  put  my  wealth  into  donation,^ 
*And  the  best  half  should  have  return'd  to  him, 
*So  much  I  love  his  heart :  but  1  perceive 
*Men  must  learn  now  with  pity  to  dispense  ; 
*For  policy  sits  above  conscience.  \_F.xeuut. 

2  In  respect  of  is  liere  equivalent  to  in  comparison  loith ;  a  frequent 
usage.  The  meaning  therefore  is,  that  Lucius  denies  him  that  which,  com- 
pared to  his  own  fortune,  is  as  trifling  as  the  alms  men  give  to  beggars. 

3  Meaning,  apparently,  "  I  would  have  regarded  mv  whole  estate  as  a 
gift  from  him,  and  returned  the  greater  part  of  it  to  him." 


SCENE  III.  TIMOX    OF    ATHENS.  235 

*SCENE   III.  —  The  Same.    A  Room  in  Sempronius's  House. 
*  Enter  Sempronius,  and  a  Servant  of  Timon's. 

*Sem.  Must  he  needs  trouble  me  in't,  —  hum  !  —  'hove  all 
*others  ?  He  might  have  tried  Lord  Lucius  or  LucuUus  ; 
*and  now  Ventidius  is  wealthy  too,  whom  he  redeem'd  from 
♦prison  :  all  these  owe  their  estates  unto  him. 

*SenK  My  lord,  they  have  all  been  touch'd,'  and  found 
♦base  metal ;  for  they  have  all  denied  him. 

*Sem.  How !  have  they  denied  him  ?  liave  Ventidius, 
•Lucius,  and  Lucullus  denied  him?  and  does  he  send  to  me? 
♦Three  ?  hum  !  —  It  shows  but  little  love  or  judgment  in  him  : 
♦must  I  be  his  last  refuge  ?  His  friends,  like  physicians,  thrice 
♦give  liim  over :  must  I  take  the  cure  upon  me?  'Has  much 
♦disgraced  me  in't ;  I'm  angry  at  him,  that  might  have  known 
♦my  place  :  I  see  no  sense  for't,  but  his  occasions  might  have 
♦woo'd  me  first ;  for,  in  my  conscience,  I  was  the  first  man 
♦that  e'er  received  gift  from  him  :  and  does  he  think  so 
♦backwardly  of  me  now,  that  I'll  requite  it  last?  No  :  so  I 
♦may  prove  an  argument  of  laughter  to  the  rest,  and  'mongsl 
♦lords  be  thought  a  fool.  I'd  rather  than  the  worth  of 
♦thrice  the  sum,  'had  sent  to  me  first,  but  for  my  mind's 
♦sake  ;  I  had  such  a  courage  to  do  him  good.  But  now 
♦return, 

*.\nd  with  their  faint  reply  this  answer  join  : 
♦Who  l)ates  mine  honour  shall  not  know  my  coin.        \_Exit. 

*Serv.  Excellent !  Your  lordship's  a  goodly  villain.  The 
♦Devil  knew  not  what  he  did  when  he  made  man  jjolitic  :  he 
♦crossed  himself  by't ;  and  I  cannot  think  but,  in  the  end, 
♦the  villainies  of  man  will  set  him  clear.-     How  fairly  this 

•  Tli.it  is.  tried  or  UsUd,  as  with  a  touchstone. 

2  The  meaning  seems  to  he  this  :  In  makinp  man  crafty,  or  />///  0/  cun- 
ning shifts,  the  Devil  overreached  or  thwarted  himself;  for  man  is  likely  to 


236  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  III. 

*lord  Strives  to  appear  foul !   takes  virtuous   copies,  to   be 

*wicked ;  ^  like  those  that,  under  hot  ardent  zeal,  would  set 

*whole  realms  on  fire  :  of  such  a  nature  is  his  politic  love. 

*This  was  my  lord's  last  hope  ;  now  all  are  fled, 

*Save  the  gods  only  ;  now  his  friends  are  dead, 

*Doors,  that  were  ne'er  acquainted  with  their  wards '' 

*Many  a  bounteous  year,  must  be  employ'd 

*Now  to  guard  sure  their  master. 

*And  this  is  all  a  liberal  course  allows  ; 

*Who  cannot  keep  his  wealth  must  keep  his  house.^     \^Exit. 


*ScENE  IV.  —  The  Same.     A  Hall  in  Timon's  House. 

*  Enter  huo  Servants  of  Varro,  and  the  Servant  of  Lucius, 

*  meeting  Titus,  Hortensius,  and  other '^qxv^wX.^  ^/Timon's 

*  Creditors,  waiting  his  coining  out. 

*i  Var.  Serv.    Well  met  ;  good  morrow,  Titus  and  Hor- 
*tensius. 

*Tit.    The  like  to  you,  kind  Varro. 

*Hor.  Lucius  ! 

*VVhat,  do  we  meet  together? 

*Luc.  Serv.  Ay,  and  I  think 

*One  business  does  command  us  all ;  for  mine 
*Is  money. 

*7"it.    So  is  theirs  and  ours. 

outdo  him  so  far  in  wickedness  as  to  pluck  his  laurels  from  him,  and  make 
him  seem  but  a  poor  devil  after  all. 

3  Copies  for  the  things  copied;  that  is,  patterns  or  models.  And  the 
meaning  of  the  clause  is,  he  sets  patterns  of  virtue  before  his  mind,  that  he 
may  avoid  being  like  them,  or  may  shape  himself  to  the  contrary. 

4  Wards  is  keepers:  probably  alluding  to  Timon's  having  been  so  un- 
sparing in  his  hospitality,  or  his  having,  as  we  say,  kept  open  house. 

5  Must  stay  at  home,  or  within  doors,  and  keep  a  guard  about  him,  to 
escape  duns,  and  officers  coming  to  arrest  him  for  debt. 


SCENE  IV.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  237 

*  Enter  Philotus. 

*Luc.  Serv.    And  Sir  Philotus  too  ! 

*Phi.  Good  day  at  once. 

*  Luc.  Sen'.  AV'elcome,  good  brother.  What  do  you  think 
*the  hour? 

*Phi.    Labouring  for  nine. 

*Ltic.  Serv.    So  much  ? 

*Phi.    Is  not  my  lord  seen  yet  ? 

*  Luc.  Serv.    Not  yet. 

* P]ii.    I  wonder  on't ;  he  was  wont  to  shine  at  seven. 

*  Luc.  Sen'.  Ay,  but  the  days  are  wax'd  shorter  with  him  : 
*you  must  consider  that  a  prodigal's  course  is  like  the  Sun's  ; ' 
*but  not,  like  his,  recoverable.  I  fear  'tis  deepest  winter  in 
*Lord  Timon's  purse  ;  that  is,  one  may  reach  deep  enough, 
*and  yet  find  little.- 

*  Phi.    I  am  of  your  fear  for  that. 

*Tit.    I'll  show  you  how  t'observe  a  strange  event. 
*Your  lord  sends  now  for  money. 

*Hor.  Most  true,  he  does. 

*Tit.    And  he  wears  jewels  now  of  Timon's  gift, 
*For  which  I  wait  for  money. 

*Hor.    It  is  against  my  heart. 

*Luc.   Serv.  Mark,  how  strange  it  shows, 

*'rimon  in  this  should  pay  more  than  he  owes  ; 
*And  e'en  as  if  your  lord  should  wear  rich  jewels, 
*And  send  for  money  for  'em. 

* Ilor.    I'm  weary  (jf  this  charge,  the  gods  can  witness  : 
*I  know  my  lord  hath  spent  of  Timon's  wealth, 
*And  now  ingratitude  makes  it  worse  than  stealth. 

*  Var.  Sen'.    Yes,   mine's  three  thousand  crowns  :    what's 

*yours  ? 

*  That  is,  like  the  Sun's  course,  that  it  ends  in  decline. 

2  Still  referring,  [icrh.ips,  to  the  cfTLxts  uf  Winter,  during  which  some 
animals  have  to  seek  their  scanty  provision  through  a  depth  of  snow. 


238  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  III. 

* Liu.  Serv.    Five  thousand  mine. 

*i  Var.  Serv.  'Tis  much  deep  :  and  it  should  seem  by 
*the  sum  your  master's  confidence  was  above  mine ;  else, 
*surely,  his  had  equall'd.^ 

*  Enter  Flavius. 

*Tit.    One  of  Lord  Timon's  men. 

*  Luc.  Serv.  Flavius!  —  Sir,  a  word:  pray,  is  my  lord 
*ready  to  come  forth  ? 

*Flav.    No,  indeed,  he  is  not. 

*T'it.   We  attend  his  lordship  ;  pray, 'signify  so  much. 

*Fiav.  I  need  not  tell  him  that ;  he  knows  you  are  too 
*  diligent.  \_Exit 

*  Enter  the  Steward  in  a  cloak,  muffled. 

*Luc.  Serv.  Ha  !  is  not  that  his  steward  muffled  so?  He 
*goes  away  in  a  cloud  :   call  him,  call  him. 

*Tit.    Do  you  hear,  sir? 

*Both  Var.  Serv.    By  your  leave,  sir,  — 

*Stew.    What  do  ye  ask  of  me,  my  friends  ? 

*Tit.    We  wait  for  certain  money  here,  sir. 

*Stew.  .\y,  if  money  were  as  certain  as  your  waiting,  'twere 
*sure  enough. 

*Why  then  preferr'd  you  not  your  sums  and  bills 
*When  your  flilse  masters  eat  of  my  lord's  meat? 
*Then  they  could  smile,  and  fawn  upon  his  debts, 
*And  take  down  th'  interest  into  their  gluttonous  maws. 
*You  do  yourselves  but  wrong  to  stir  me  up  ; 
*Let  me  pass  quietly  : 

*Believe't,  my  lord  and  I  have  made  an  end ; 
*I  have  no  more  to  reckon,  he  to  spend. 

*Luc.  Sent.    Ay,  but  this  answer  will  not  serve. 

3  That  is,  "  else,  surely,  my  master's  loan  had  equalled  his." 


SCENE  IV.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  239 

*Ste'w.    If  'twill  not  serve,  'tis  not  so  base  as  you  ; 
*For  you  serve  knaves.  \^Exit. 

*i  Far.  Serv.  How  !  what  does  his  cashier'd  Worship 
*mutter  ? 

*2  Var.  Serv.    No   matter   what ;    he's    poor,    and    that's 

*revenge  enough.     Who  can  speak  broader  than  he  that  has 

*no  house  to  i)ut  his  head  in?  such  may  rail  against  great 

*buildings. 

*  Enter  Servilius. 

*Tit.  O,  here's  Servilius;  now  we  shall  know  some  an- 
*swer. 

*Servi/.  If  I  might  beseech  you,  gentlemen,  to  repair  some 
*other  hour,  I  should  derive  much  from't ;  for,  take't  of  my 
*soul,  my  lord  leans  wondrously  to  discontent :  his  comfort- 
*able  temper  has  forsook  him  ;  he's  much  out  of  health,  and 
*keeps  his  chaml)er. 

*Luc.  Serv.    Many  do  keep  their  chambers  are  not  sick  : 
*An  if  he  be  so  far  beyond  his  health, 
*Methinks  he  should  the  sooner  pay  his  debts, 
*And  make  a  clear  way  to  the  gods. 

*Servil.  Good  gods  ! 

*Tit.    We  cannot  take  this  for  an  answer,  sir. 

* Flav.    [  IVi/Ziin.']    Servilius,  help  !  —  My  lord  !  my  lord  ! 

*£n/erTiMON,  in  a  rage;  FhAWivs /o/Zozaing. 

*Tim.    What,  are  my  doors  opposed  against  my  passage '' 
*Have  I  been  ever  free,  and  must  my  house 
*Be  my  retentive  enemy,  my  jail? 
*The  place  which  I  have  feasted,  does  it  now, 
*Like  all  mankinrl,  show  me  an  iron  heart? 

* Ijic.  Sen'.    Put  in  now,  Titus. 

*  7//.    My  lord,  here  is  my  bill. 

*Luc.  Sen'.    Here's  mine. 

*Hor.  Serv.    And  mine,  my  lord 


240  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  III. 

*Both  Var.  Serv.    And  ours,  my  lord. 

*Phi.    All  our  bills. 

*Tiin.  Knock  me  down  with  'em  :  ^  cleave  me  to  the  girdle. 

*Luc.  Serv.    Alas,  my  lord,  — 

*Tim.    Cut  my  heart  in  sums. 

*Tit.    Mine,  fifty  talents. 

*Tt!!i.    Tell  out  my  blood. 

*Luc.  Serv.    Five  thousand  crowns,  my  lord. 

*Tiin.    Five  thousand  drops  pays  that.  —  What  yours?  — 
*and  yours  ? 

*/  Var.  Serv.    My  lord,  — 

*2  Var.  Serv.    My  lord,  — 

^Thn.    Tear  me,  take  me,  and  the  gods  fall  upon  you  ! 

*\_Exif. 

*Hor.  Faith,  I  perceive  our  masters  may  throw  their  caps 
*at  their  money  :  these  debts  may  well  be  call'd  desperate 
*ones,  for  a  madman  owes  'em.  \_Exeunt. 

*  Re-enter  TiiviON  ami  iJie  Steward. 

*Tim.  They  have  e'en  put  my  breath  from  me,  the  slaves. 
^Creditors?  devils! 

*Sfeu>.    My  dear  lord,  • — 

*Tim.    What  if  it  should  be  so? 

*Sten>.    My  lorcH  — 

'■'Tim.    I'll  have  it  so.  • —  My  steward  ! 

*Siew.    Here,  my  lord. 

"'Tim.    So  fitly?     Go,  bid  all  my  friends  again, 
*Lucius,  Lucullus,  and  Sempronius  ;  all : 
*ril  oace  more  feast  the  rascals. 

^Sfew.  O  my  lord, 

*You  only  speak  from  your  distracted  soul ; 

"i  An  implied  pun  ;  bills  being  formerly  used  to  signify  certain  weapons, 
such  as  were  carried  by  watchmen  and  foresters.  See  vol.  v.  page  18, 
note  10. 


SCENF.  V.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  24I 

*'rhcre  is  not  so  much  left  to  furnish  out 
*A  moderate  table. 

*Tiiii.  Be't  not  in  thy  care  ;  go, 

*I  charge  thee,  invite  them  all :  let  in  the  tide 
*  Of  knaves  once  more  ;  my  cook  and  I'll  provide.  \_Excuut. 


*SCENE  V. —  The  Same.      The  Senatc-ILnisf. 
*The  Soiatc  sitting. 

*  1  Sen.    My  lords,  you  have  my  voice  to  it ;  the  fault's 
*Bloody  ;  'tis  necessary  he  should  die  : 
*Nothing  emboldens  sin  so  mu<li  as  mercy. 

*2  Sen.    Most  true  ;  the  law  shall  bruise  him. 

*  Enter  Alciiji.\des,  attended. 

*Alcib.    Honour,  health,  and  compassion  to  the  Senate  ! 

*/  Sen.    Now,  cai)tain  ? 

* Alcib.    I  am  an  humble  suitor  to  your  virtues ; 
*For  pity  is  the  virtue  of  the  law, 
*And  none  but  tyrants  use  it  cruelly. 
*It  pleases  time  and  fortune  to  li(* heavy 
*Upon  a  friend  of  mine,  who,  in  hot  blood, 
*Hath  stepp'd  into  the  law,  which  is  past  depth 
*To  those  that,  without  heed,  do  plunge  into't. 
*He  is  a  man,  setting  this  fault  aside, 
*0f  comely  virtues  : 

*Nor  did  he  soil  the  fact  with  cowardice, 
*An  honour  in  him  which  buys  out  his  fixult ; 
*But  with  a  noble  fury  and  free  spirit, 
*Secing  his  reputation  touch'd  to  death, 
*I[c  dill  ()pi)()se  his  foe  : 
*And  with  such  sober  and  unnoted  passion 


242 


TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  III. 


*He  did  behave  ^  his  anger,  ere  'twas  spent, 
*As  if  he  had  but  proved  an  argument. 

*j  Sen.    You  undergo  too  strict  a  paradox,^ 
*Striving  to  make  an  ugly  deed  look  fair  : 
*Your  words  have  took  such  pains,  as  if  they  labour'd 
*To  bring  manslaughter  into  form,  and  set 
*  Quarrelling  upon  the  head  of  valour ;  which 
■•■■Indeed  is  valour  misbegot,  and  came 
*Into  the  world  when  sects  and  factions 
*Were  newly  born. 

*He's  truly  valiant  that  can  wisely  suffer 
*The  worst- that  man  can  breathe  ;  and  make  his  wrongs 
*His  outsides,  —  wear  them  like  his  raiment,  carelessly  ; 
*And  ne'er  prefer  ^  his  injuries  to  his  heart, 
*To  bring  it  into  danger. 
*If  wrongs  be  evils,  and  enforce  us  kill, 
*What  folly  'tis  to  hazard  life  for  ill  ! 

*Alcib.    My  lords,  — 

*/  Sen.  You  cannot  make  gross  sins  look  clear : 

*To  revenge  is  no  valour,  but  to  bear. 

*Alcib.    My  lords,  then,  under  favour,  pardon  me, 
*If  I  speak  like  a  captain. 

*Why  do  fond  men  expos'e  themselves  to  battle, 
*And  not  endure  all  threatenings  ?  sleep  upon't, 

1  An  odd  use  of  behave,  but  meaning  control  or  manage,  as  in  the  phrase 
"  behave  yourself."  So  in  Davenant's  Just  Italian,  1630 :  "  How  well  my 
stars  behave  their  influence!"     Ami   in    The  Faerie  (^wfw,  ii.  3, 40 : 

But  who  his  limbs  with  labours,  and  his  mynd 
Behaves  with  cares,  cannot  so  easy  mis. 

2  "  You  undertake  a  paradox  too  hard'.' 

3  To  recomme?id,  to  promote,  to  advance,  are  among  the  old  meanings  of 
\o prefer.  The  sense  of  the  passage  appears  to  be,  "  who  treats  the  wrongs 
and  injuries  that  are  done  him  as  things  that  do  not  touch  him  inwardly, 
and  never  does  them  honour  by  taking  them  to  heart  as  matter  of  resent- 
ment, since  this  is  giving  them  power  to  hurt  him." 


SCENE  V.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  243 

*An(l  let  the  foes  quietly  cut  their  throats, 
^Without  repugnancy?     Or,  if  there  be 
*Such  valour  in  the  bearing,  what  make  we 
*Abroad?''  why,  then  women  are  more  valiant 
*That  stay  at  home,  if  bearing  carry  it ; 
■'And  th'  ass  more  captain  than  the  lion  ;  the  felon 
*Loaden  with  irons  wiser  than  the  judge, 
*If  wisdom  be  in  suffering.     O  my  lords, 
*As  you  are  great,  be  pitifully  good  : 
*Who  cannot  condemn  rashness  in  cold  blood? 
*To  kill,  I  grant,  is  sin's  extremest  gust ; '' 
*But,  in  defence,  by  mercy,^  'tis  most  just. 
*To  be  in  anger  is  impiety  ; 
*But  who  is  man  that  is  not  angry? 
*Weigh  but  the  crime  with  this. 

*j  St'//.    You  breathe  in  vain. 

* Alcib.  In  vain  !  his  service  done 

*At  Lacedaemon  and  Byzantium 
*Were  a  sufficient  briber  for  his  life. 

*/  Sen.    What's  that? 

*  Alcib.    I  say,  my  lords,  'has  done  foir  service, 
*And  slain  in  fight  many  of  your  enemies  : 
*How  full  of  valour  did  he  bear  himself 

*In  the  last  conflict,  and  made  jjlenteous  wounds  ! 

*2  Sen.    He  has  made  too  much  plenty  with  'em ;  he 
*Is  a  sworn  rioter :  he  has  a  sin  that  often 
*  Drowns  him,  and  takes  his  valour  prisoner. 
*If  there  were  no  more  foes,  that  were  enough 
*To  overcome  him  :  in  that  beastly  fury 
*He  has  been  known  to  commit  outrages 

*  Meaning,  what  do  \vc  m  the  field?  that  is,  why  do  wo  wage  foreign 
wars  ?    This  use  of  to  make  was  very  common.    See  vol.  v.  page  34,  note  4. 

^  Guit  has  the  sense  here  of  outbreak,  as  when  we  say  "  a.j,'iist  of  wind." 
''  Ily  mercy  is  here  the  samo  ns  under  /iivour,  or  if  I  may  say  so. 


244  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  III. 

*And  cherish  factions  :  'tis  inferr'd "'  to  us 
*His  days  are  foul,  and  his  drink  dangerous. 

*i  Sen.    He  dies. 

*Alcib.  Hard  fate  !  he  might  have  died  in  war. 

*My  lords,  if  not  for  any  parts  in  him,  — 
*Though  his  right  arm  might  purchase  liis  own  time, 
*And  be  in  debt  to  none,  —  yet,  more  to  move  you, 
*Take  my  deserts  to  his,  and  join  'em  both  : 
*And,  for  I  know  your  reverend  ages  love 
*Security,  I'll  pawn  my  victories,  all 
*My  honours  to  you,  upon  his  good  return. 
*If  by  this  crime  he  owes  the  law  his  life, 
*Why,  let  the  war  receive't  in  valiant  gore  ; 
*For  law  is  strict,  and  war  is  nothing  more. 

*/  Sen.    We  are  for  law  ;  he  dies  ;  urge  it  no  more, 
*0n  height  of  our  displeasure  :  friend  or  brother, 
*He  forfeits  his  own  blood  that  spills  another.^ 

*Alcih.    Must  it  be  so?  it  must  not  be.     My  lords, 
*I  do  beseech  you,  know  me. 

*2  Sen.    How  ! 

*Alcib.    Call  me  to  your  remembrances. 

*j  Sen.    What  ! 

* Alcih.    I  cannot  think  but  your  age  has  forgot  me ; 
*It  could  not  else  be  I  should  prove  so  base 
*To  sue,  and  be  denied  such  common  grace  : 
*My  wounds  ache  at  you. 

*  I  Sen.  Do  you  dare  our  anger? 

*'Tis  in  few  words,  but  spacious  in  effect : 
*We  banish  thee  for  ever. 


"  Inferr'd  in  its  proper  Latin  sense  of  brought  in  ;  that  is,  reported  or 
alleged.     Repeatedly  so.     See  vol.  ix.  page  221,  note  18. 

8  Properly  it  should  be  another's,  but  a  rhyme  was  evidently  intended. 
Dycc,  however,  says,  "  another  blood  may  certainly  mean  another  blood  than 
his  own." 


SCENE  V.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  245 

*Alcib.  Banish  me  ! 

*Banish  your  dotage  ;  banish  usury, 
*That  makes  the  Senate  ugly. 

*7  Sen.    If  after  two  days'  shine  Athens  contain  thee, 
*Attend  our  weightier  judgment.     And,  to  quell  your  spirit, 
*He  shall  be  executed  presently.  [^Exeimt  Senators. 

*Alcib.    Now  the  gods  keep  you  old  enough  ;  that  you  may 
*live 
*Only  in  bone,  that  none  may  look  on  you  !  ^ 
*rm  worse  than  mad  :   I  have  kept  back  their  foes, 
*While  they  have  told  tlieir  money,  and  let  out 
*Their  coin  upon  large  interest ;  I  myself 
*Rich  only  in  large  hurts  :  all  those  for  this? 
*Is  this  the  balsam  that  the  usuring  Senate 

*  Pours  into  captains'  wounds?     Ha,  banishment  ! 
*It  comes  not  ill ;   I  hate  not  to  be  banish'd  ; 

*  It  is  a  cause  worthy  my  spleen  and  fury, 
*That  I  may  strike  at  Athens.     I'll  cheer  up 
*My  discontented  troops,  and  lay  for  hearts. >° 
*'Tis  honour  with  most  lands  to  l)e  at  odds  ; " 

*Soldiers  should  brook  as  little  wrongs  as  gods.  \^Exit. 

8  The  only  meaning  I  can  attach  to  this  strange  passage  is,  "  that  you 
may  live  only  as  skeletons,  things  so  hideous  or  so  disgusting,  that  none  can 
bear  the  sight  of  you."     See  Critical  Notes. 

1*  Probably  meaning,  "  I  will  make  it  my  object  to  win  the  affections  of 
the  soldiers,  and  knit  them  to  my  person,  so  that  I  can  scare  or  scourge  the 
Senate  into  a  better  temper." 

11  That  is,  governments  are  in  general  so  ill  administered,  that  there  are 
very  few  whom  it  is  not  an  honour  to  oppose.  —  Hea HI. 


246  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 


Scene  VI .  —  The  Satne.     A  magnificent  Room  in  Timon's 
House. 

Music.  Tables  set  oiit :  ^i^rvaxii?,  attending.  Enter,  at  sev- 
eral doors,  divers  Lords,  —  Lucius,  Lucullus,  Sempronius, 
Senators,  &c.  ;  «;/<-/ Ventidius. 

*i  Lord.    The  good  time  of  day  to  you,  sir. 

*2  Lord.  I  also  wish  it  to  you.  I  think  this  honourable 
*lord  did  but  try  us  this  other  day. 

*i  Lord.  Upon  that  were  my  thoughts  tiring  1  when  we 
*encounter'd  :  I  hope  it  is  not  so  low  with  him  as  he  made 
*it  seem  in  the  trial  of  his  several  friends. 

*2  Lord.  It  should  not  be,  by  the  persuasion  of  his  new 
*feasting. 

*  I  Lord.  I  should  think  so  :  he  hath  sent  me  an  earnest 
*inviting,  which  my  many  near  occasions  did  urge  me  to 
*put  off;  but  he  hath  conjured  me  beyond  them,-  and  I  must 
*  needs  appear. 

*2  Lord.  In  like  manner  was  I  in  debt  to  my  importunate 
*business,  but  he  would  not  hear  my  excuse.  I  am  sorry, 
*when  he  sent  to  borrow  of  me,  that  my  provision  was  out. 

*  I  Lord.  I  am  sick  of  that  grief  too,  as  I  understand  how 
*all  things  go. 

*2  Lord.  Every  man  here's  so.  What  would  he  have 
*borrowed  of  you  ? 

*  I  Lord.    A  thousand  pieces. 
*2  I^ord.    A  thousand  pieces  ! 

1  To  tire  is  to  tear,  to  peck  at  or  feed  upon,  as  a  bird  of  prey  upon  its 
victim.  Used  especially  as  a  term  in  falconry,  but  also  applied  to  other 
predaceous  birds,  as  well  as  to  hawks.     See  vol.  ix.  page  18,  note  11. 

2  That  is,  his  conjurations  have  been  too  strong  for  them,  have  out-wrestled 
them.  The  allusion  is  to  the  old  practice  of  calling  up  spirits,  or  forcing 
them  to  appear  within  a  given  circle,  by  "  the  might  of  magic  spells."  See 
vol.  xii.  page  129,  note  21. 


SCENE  VI.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  247 

*/  Lord.   What  of  you  ? 

*2  Lord.    He  sent  to  me,  sir,  —  Here  he  comes. 

Enter  Timon  and  Attendants. 

Tim.  With  all  my  heart,  gentlemen  both.  —  And  how  fare 
you? 

/  Lord.    Ever  at  the  best,  hearing  well  of  your  lordship. 

2  Lord.  The  swallow  follows  not  Summer  more  willingly 
than  we  your  lordship. 

Tim.  \_Aside.'\  Nor  more  willingly  leaves  Winter ;  such 
summer-birds  are  men.  —  Gentlemen,  our  dinner  will  not 
recompense  this  long  stay  :  feast  your  ears  with  the  music 
awhile,  if  they  will  fare  so  harshly.  O,  the  trumpets  sound  ; 
we  shall  to't  presently. 

/  Lo'd.  I  hope  it  remains  not  unkindly  with  your  lord- 
ship, that  I  return'd  you  an  empty  messenger. 

Tim.    (),  sir,  let  it  not  trouble  you. 

2  Lord.    My  noble  lord,  — 

Tim.    Ah,  my  good  friend,  what  cheer? 

2  Lord.  My  most  honourable  lortl,  I  am  e'en  sick  of 
shame,  that,  when  your  lordship  this  other  day  sent  to  me, 
I  was  so  unfortunate  a  beggar. 

Tim.    Think  not  on't,  sir. 

2  Lord.    If  you  had  sent  but  two  hours  before, — 

Tim.    Let  it  not  cumber  your  better  remembrance.*'  — 
Come,  bring  in  all  together.  [  Tlie  banquet  brought  in. 

2  Lord.    All  cover'd  dishes  ! 

/  Lord.    Royal  cheer,  I  warrant  you. 

J  Lord.  Doubt  not  that,  if  money  and  the  season  can 
yield  it. 

I  Lord.    How  do  you?     What's  the  news? 

*  Timon  means,  i.pparcntly,  tliat  his  memory  is  loo  i^'iUhl,  in  retaining  so 
trivial  a  jnattcr.  The  Poet  repeatedly  thus  uses  the  EngUsii  comparatives 
just  as  llie  L;itin  are  often  used.     Sec  page  63,  note  16. 


248  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

J  Lord.    Alcibiades  is  banish'd  :  hear  you  of  it? 
I  Lord. 


Alcibiades  banish'd  ! 
2  Lord. 

J  Lord.    'Tis  so,  be  sure  of  it. 

1  Lord.    How  !  how  ! 

2  Lord:  1  pray  you,  upon  what? 

Tim.    My  worthy  friends,  will  you  draw  near? 
J  Lord.    I'll   tell   you   more  anon.     Here's  a  noble  feast 
toward."* 

2  Lord.    This  is  the  old  man  still. 

3  Lord.    Will't  hold  ?    will't  hold  ? 

2  Lord.    It  does  :   but  time  will  —  and  so  — 

J  Lord.    I  do  conceive. 

Tim.  Each  man  to  his  stool,  with  that  spur  as  he  would 
to  the  Up  of  his  mistress  :  your  diet  shall  be  in  all  places 
alike.  Make  not  a  city  feast  of  it,  to  let  the  meat  cool  ere 
we  can  agree  upon  the  first  place  :  sit,  sit.  The  gods  require 
our  thanks : 

You  great  benefactors,  sprinkle  our  society  with  thank- 
fulness. For  your  own  gifts,  make  yourselves  praised  ;  but 
reserve  still  to  give,  lest  your  deities  be  despised.  Lend  to 
each  man  enough,  that  one  need  not  lend  to  another  ;  for, 
were  your  godheads  to  borrow  of  men,  men  would  forsake 
the  gods.  Make  the  meat  be  beloved  more  than  the  man 
that  gives  it.  Let  no  assembly  of  twenty  be  without  a  score 
of  villains  :  if  there  sit  twelve  women  at  the  table,  let  a  dozen 
of  them  be  —  as  they  are.  The  rest  of  your  foes,  O  gods, 
—  the  Senators  of  Athens,  together  with  the  common  tag  of 
people,  —  what  is  amiss  in  them,''  you  gods,  make  suitable  for 
destruction.     For  these  my  present  friends,  —  as  they  are  to 

■•  Here,  as  often,  toward  is  at  hand  ox  forthcoming. 

5  Meaning,  apparently,  whatever  is  amiss  in  them  for  the  purpose  of 
destruction,  or  whatever  prevents  you  from  destroying  them. 


SCENE  VI.  TIMOX    OF    ATHKNS.  249 

me  nothing,  so  in  nothing  bless  them,  and  to  nothing  arc  they 
welcome.  — - 

Uncover,  dogs,  and  lap. 

\_^The  dishes  are  uncovered,  and  seen  (0  he  full 

of  loarni  water. 

Some  speak.    \Miat  docs  his  lordship  mean? 

Some  other.    I  know  not. 

Tim.    May  you  a  better  feast  never  behold, 
\'ou  knot  of  mouth-friends  !  smoke  and  lukewarm  water 
Is  your  perfection.     This  is  Timon's  last ; 
Who,  stuck  and  spangled  with  your  flattery, 
Washes  it  off,  and  sprinkles  in  your  faces 
Vour  reeking  villainy.         SfThrowing  the  luater  in  their  faces. 

Live  loathed,  and  long. 
Most  smiling,  smooth,  detested  parasites. 
Courteous  destroyers,  affable  wolves,  meek  bears, 
You  fools  of  fortune,  trencher-friends,  time's  flies,'* 
Cap-and-knee  slaves,  vapours,  and  minute-jacks  ! ''' 
Of  man  and  beast  the  infinite  ^  maladies 
Crust  you  quite  o'er  !  —  What,  dost  thou  go? 
Soft  !  take  thy  physic  first,  — thou  too,  —  and  thou  ;  — 
Stay,  I  will  lend  thee  mone\',  borrow  none. — 

\_Pelts  them  7oith  stoties,  and  drives  them  out. 
What,  all  in  motion?     Henceforth  be  no  feast 
Whereat  a  villain's  not  a  welcome  guest. 
Hum,  house  !  sink,  Athens  !  henceforth  hated  be 
Of  Tiinon  man  and  all  humanity  !  [/T.wV. 

*>  Insects  of  tlic  liour,  creatures  of  sunshine.  So  in  ii.  2:  "  One  cloud  of 
winter  showers,  these y?/W  are  couch'tl." 

"  Mmutc-jacks  are  what  were  commonly  called yajr^'J  of  the  clock,  autom- 
aton figures  that  struck  the  time:  hence  the  term  was  used  ior  time-servers 
or  sycophants  of  wealth. 

"  Infinite  here  means  innumerable,  infinite  ;'//  number.  Shakespeare  has 
the  word  repeatedly  in  this  sense. 


250  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV. 

*  Re-enter  the  Company. 

*i  Lord.    How  now,  my  lords  ! 

*2  Lord.    Know  you  the  quality  of  Lord  Timon's  fury  ? 

*j  Lord.    Push  !  did  you  see  my  cap  ? 

*4.  Lord.    I  have  lost  my  gown. 

*  I  Lord.  He's  but  a  mad  lord,  and  nought  but  humour^ 
*sways  him.  He  gave  me  a  jewel  th'  other  day,  and  now 
*he  has  beat  it  out  of  my  hat. —  Did  you  see  my  jewel? 

*j  Lord.  Did  you  see  my  cap  ? 

*2  Lord.  Here  'tis. 

*4.  Lord.  Here  lies  my  gown. 

*  I  Lo7'd.  Let's  make  no  stay. 
*2  Lord.  Lord  Timon's  mad. 

*3  Lord.  I  feel't  upon  my  bones. 

*^  Lord.    One  day  he  gives  us  diamonds,  next  day  stones. 

\  Exeunt. 


ACT   IV. 

Scene  L  —  Without  tJic  IValls  0/  Athens. 

Enter  Timon. 

Tim.    Let  me  look  back  upon  thee.     O  thou  wall, 
That  girdlest  in  those  wolves,  dive  in  the  earth. 
And  fence  not  Athens  !     Matrons,  turn  incontinent  ! 
Obedience  fail  in  children  !  slaves  and  fools, 
Pluck  the  grave  wrinkled  Senate  from  the  bench, 
And  r.iinister  in  their  steads  !  to  general  filths 
Convert  o'  the  instant,^  green  virginity  ; 

5  Here,  as  often,  himiour  is  caprice,  freak,  or  any  mad-cap  whim.  The 
word  was  used  in  a  great  variety  of  senses.     See  vol.  xi.  page  80,  note  25. 

1  Convert  here  means  simply  turn.  Often  so.  General  filths  is  common 
strumpets.    The  Poet  uses  filth  repeatedly  in  this  sense. 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  25  I 

Do't  in  your  parents'  eyes  !  bankrupts,  hold  fast ; 

Rather  than  rentier  back,  out  with  your  knives, 

And  cut  your  trusters'  throats  !  bound-servants,  steal ! 

Large-handed  robbers  your  grave  masters  are, 

And  pill-  by  law  :  maid,  to  thy  master's  bed,  — 

Thy  mistress  is  o'  the  brothel  !  son  of  sixteen, 

Pluck  the  lined  crutch  from  thy  old  limping  sire. 

With  it  beat  out  his  brains  !  piety,  and  fear, 

Religion  to  the  gods,  peace,  justice,  truth. 

Domestic  awe,  night-rest,  and  neighbourhood, 

Instruction,  manners,  mysteries,-'  and  trades. 

Degrees,  observances,  customs,  and  laws, 

Decline  to  your  confounding  contraries,"* 

And  let  confusion  live  !     Plagues  incident  to  men, 

Your  potent  and  infectious  fevers  heap 

On  Athens,  ripe  for  stroke  !  thou  cold  sciatica, 

Cripple  our  Senators,  that  their  limbs  may  halt 

/Vs  lamely  as  their  manners  !  lust  and  liberty  ^ 

Creep  in  the  minds  and  marrows  of  our  youth, 

That  'gainst  the  stream  of  virtue  they  may  strive, 

And  drown  themselves  in  riot  !  itches,  blains. 

Sow  all  th'  Athenian  bosoms  ;  and  their  crop 

Be  general  leprosy  !   breath  infect  breath  ; 

That  their  society,  as  their  friendship,  may 

lie  merely  ^  poison  !     Nothing  I'll  bear  from  thee 

IJut  nakedness,  thou  deHestable  town  ! 


'■^  Topi//  is  \o pd/age,  iop/undfr,  to  rob.     See  vol.  x.  page  171,  note  30. 

3  Mysteries  formerly  meant  arts,  professions,  ca//ings. 

*  "  Confounding  contraries  "  are  contraries  that  luaste  and  destroy  eac/i 
ot/ter.  We  have  a  similar  thought  in  Troi/us  and  Cressida,  i.  3  :  "  Take  but 
degree  av^ay,  and  each  thing  meets  in  mere  oppugnancy."  The  Poet  repeat- 
edly uses  fo  confound  for  to  destroy. 

''  Liberty  in  the  sense  o{  /ibertinism  or  /iceutiotisness. 

0  Mere/y  in  its  old  sense  of  abso/ute/y  or  a/together.  See  vol.  xiv.  page 
159,  note  27. 


252  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV. 

Take  thou  that  too,  with  multiplying  bans  ! '' 

Timon  will  to  the  woods  ;  where  he  shall  find 

Th'  unkindest  beast  more  kinder  than  mankind. 

The  gods  confound  —  hear  me,  you  good  gods  all  — 

Th'  Athenians  both  within  and  out  that  wall  ! 

And  grant,  as  Timon  grows,  his  hate  may  grow 

To  the  whole  race  of  mankind,  high  and  low  ! 

Amen.  \_ExiL 

Scene  II.  —  Athens.     A  Room  in  Timon's  House. 
Enter  the  Steward,  wifJi  two  or  three  Servants. 

I  Serv.  Hear  you,  master  steward,  where's  our  master? 
Are  we  undone?  cast  off?  nothing  remaining? 

Stew.  Alack,  my  fellows,  what  should  I  say  to  you  ?  Let 
me  be  recorded  by  the  righteous  gods,  I  am  as  poor  as  you. 

1  Sen'.  Such  a  House  broke  !  So  noble  a  master  fallen  ! 
All  gone  !  and  not  one  friend  to  take  his  fortune  by  the  arm, 
and  go  along  with  him  ! 

2  Serv.    As  we  do  turn  our  l)acks 

To  our  companion  thrown  into  his  grave, 

So  his  familiars  from  his  buried  fortunes 

Slink  all  away  ;  leave  their  false  vows  with  him. 

Like  empty  purses  pick'd  ;  and  his  poor  self, 

A  dedicated  beggar  to  the  air,^ 

With  his  disease  of  all-shunn'd  poverty. 

Walks,  like  contempt,  alone.     More  of  our  fellows. 

Enter  other  Servants.^ 

Ste7v.    All  broken  implements  of  a  ruin'd  House. 

''  Dans  is  curses.  Often  so.  Multiplying  for  multiplied,  probably;  an 
instance  of  the  frequent  confusion  of  active  and  passive  forms. 

8  "  A  beggar  dedicated  to  tlie  air  "  is  the  proper  construction.  Dedicated 
in  the  sense  oigive  up  or  committed.     Repeatedly  so. 


SCENE  H.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  253 

J  Sent.    Yet  do  our  hearts  wear  Timon's  livery ; 
That  see  I  by  our  faces  :  we  are  fellows  still, 
Serving  alike  in  sorrow.     Leak'd  is  our  bark ; 
And  we,  poor  mates,  stand  on  the  dying  deck, 
1  learing  the  surges  threat :  we  must  all  part 
Into  this  sea  of  air.^ 

Stetu.  Good  fellows  all, 

The  latest  of  my  wealth  I'll  share  amongst  you. 
Wherever  we  shall  meet,  for  Timon's  sake 
Let's  yet  be  fellows  ;  let's  shake  our  heads,  and  say, 
As  'twere  a  knell  unto  our  master's  fortunes, 
W'e  have  see?i  better  days.     Let  each  take  some  : 

[  Giving  them  money. 
Xay,  put  out  all  your  hands.     Not  one  word  more  : 
Thus  part  we  ricli  in  sorrow,  parting  poor.  — 

[Servants  embrace,  a7ui part  several  ways. 
*0,  the  fierce  "'  wretchedness  that  glory  brings  us  ! 
*VVho  would  not  wish  to  be  from  wealth  exempt, 
*Since  riches  point  to  misery  and  contempt? 
*Who'd  be  so  mock'd  with  glory?  or  so  live 
*But  in  a  dream  of  friendshij)?  who  survive, 
*To  have  his  pomp,  and  all  state  comprehends, 
*But  only  painted,  like  his  varnish'd  friends? 

^  Here,  as  often, /a/-/  is  depart.  Dr.  Ingleby  aptly  notus  upon  the  pas- 
sage as  follows:  "  The  '  sea  of  air'  is  that  into  which  the  soul,  freighting  Ills 
wrcckefl  bark,  the  body,  must  at  length  take  its  flight.  Compare  with  the 
text  the  following  from  Drayton's  liattlc  of  Agincourt : 

Now  where  both  armies  got  upon  that  ground, 
As  on  a  stage,  where  they  their  strengths  must  try, 
Whence  from  the  width  of  many  a  gaping  wound. 
There's  many  a  soul  into  tin-  air  tnustjly." 

1"  Fierce  was  often  used  in  the  general  sense  of  violent,  vehement,  exces- 
sive. So  Shakespeare  has  "  \\m^  fierce  endeavour  of  your  wit."  And  Milton 
has  "  tlic  bitter  change  oi  fierce  extremes."  See,  also,  vol.  xiv.  page  150, 
note  36. 


254  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV. 

*Poor  honest  lord,  brought  low  by  his  own  heart, 

*Undone  by  goodness  !     Strange,  unusual  blood,^ ' 

*When  man's  worst  sin  is,  he  does  too  much  good  ! 

*Who,  then,  dares  to  be  half  so  kind  again? 

*For  bounty,  that  makes  gods,  doth  still  mar  men. 

*My  dearest  lord,  —  bless'd,  to  be  most  accursed, 

*Rich,  only  to  be  wretched,  —  thy  great  fortunes 

*Are  made  thy  chief  afflictions.     Alas,  kind  lord  ! 

*He's  flung  in  rage  from  this  ungrateful  seat 

*0f  monstrous  friends  ;  nor  has  he  with  him  to 

*Supply  his  life,  or  that  which  can  comm.and  it. 

*ril  follow,  and  inquire  him  out : 

*ril  ever  serve  his  mind  with  my  best  will ; 

*VVhilst  I  have  gold,  I'll  be  his  steward  still.  \_Exit. 

Scene  III.  —  The  Woods.     Before  Tbion's  Cave. 

Enter  TiMON. 

Tim.    O  blessed-breeding  Sun,  draw  from  the  earth 
Rotten  humidity  !  ^  below,  thy  sister's  orb 
Infect  the  air  !     Twinn'd  brothers  of  one  womb,  — 
Whose  procreation,  residence,  and  birth. 
Scarce  is  dividant,^  —  touch  them  with  several  fortunes. 
The  greater  scorns  the  lesser  :  not  those  natures. 
To  whom  all  sores  lay  siege,  can  bear  great  fortune. 
But  by  3  contempt  of  nature. 

11  Blood  is  often  used  for  passion  or  impulse ;  here  it  seems  to  have  the 
sense  of  ^tate  or  disposition. 

1  Rotten  humidity  is  moisture  that  rots,  or  causes  rottenness.  —  The  Sun's 
"  sister's  orb  "  is,  of  course,  the  Moon. 

2  Dividant  for  divisible,  or,  perhaps,  divided.  So  the  Poet  has  credent 
for  credible,  and  intrenchant  in  the  sense  oi  ?iot  to  be  cut.  All  these  seem  to 
fall  under  the  general  rule  of  active  and  passive  forms  used  indiscriminately. 

•^  Ihtt  is  here  exceptive :  unless  by,  that  is,  without.  The  meaning  of  the 
passage  probably  is,  that  even  those  whom  wretchedness  has  pressed  upon 


SPENF.  III.  TIMON    OP'    ATHENS.  255 

Raise  me  this  beggar,  and  deject ''  that  lord  ; 

The  Senator  shall  bear  contempt  hereditary, 

The  beggar  native  honour. 

It  is  the  pasture  lards  the  rother's  ^  sides, 

The  want  that  makes  him  lean.     Who  dares,  who  dares 

In  purity  of  manhood  stand  upright. 

And  say.  This  man's  a  flatterer  ?     If  one  be, 

So  are  they  all ;  for  every  grise  of  fortune 

Is  smooth'd  by  that  below  :  ^  the  learned  pate 

Ducks  to  the  golden  fool :  all  is  oblique  ; 

There's  nothing  level ''  in  our  cursed  natures, 

But  direct  villainy.     Therefore  be  abhorr'd 

.Ml  feasts,  societies,  and  throngs  of  men  ! 

His  semblable,  yea,  himself.  Timon  disdains  : 

Destruction  fang  mankind  !  —  Earth,  yield  me  roots  ! 

most  heavily  are  no  sooner  touched  by  good  fortune  than  they  go  to  scorn- 
ing their  fellow-creatures.  The  use  of  natures  in  the  sense  oi persons  occurs 
repeatedly.     See  vol.  vi.  page  145,  note  5. 

■•  Deject  in  its  radical  sense  oi  cast  down.  So  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  ii. 
2:  "  Nor  once  deject  the  courage  of  our  minds,  because  Cassandra's  mad." 
And  in  King  Lear,  iv.  i :  "  To  be  the  worst,  the  lowest  and  most  dejected 
thing  of  fortune."  In  the  next  line,  Senator  refers  to  that  lord ;  and  the 
meaning  is,  that  the  born  beggar  shall  have  the  Senator's  hereditary  or 
native  honour  transferred  to  him.  and  vice  versa :  that  is  to  say,  the  beggar 
shall  be  as  good  as  the  born  Senator,  and  the  Senator  no  better  than  the 
born  beggar. 

5  Rother  is  an  old  word  for  horned  beast,  used  generally  of  oxen  and 
cows.  In  Shakespeare's  native  town,  there  was  a  place  called  "  the  rother- 
market,"  and  in  Golding's  Ovid  we  have  "  herds  of  rother  beasts." 

0  The  place  put  for  the  occupants  of  it.  Men  in  every  degree  or  stage  of 
fortune  are  caressed,  Jlattered,  fawned  upon  by  those  below  them.  The  verb 
to  smooth  was  often  used  in  this  way.  Sec  vol.  ix.  page  161,  note  7.  The 
use  of  grise,  also,  for  step  or  degree  was  common.  See  vol.  v.  page  192, 
note  22. 

"  f.evel,  here,  is  just  the  opposite  of  oblique,  and  so  is  the  same  as  direct. 
So  lh(!  vcrbto  level  is  sninclimcs  used  for  to  direct.  See  vol.  iv.  |)age  226, 
note  15. 


256  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV. 

Who  seeks  for  better  of  thee,  sauce  his  palate 

With  thy  most  operant  poison  !  —  What  is  here  ? 

Gold  !  yellow,  glittering,  precious  gold  !  —  No,  gods, 

I  am  no  idle  votarist :  ^  roots,  you  clear  Heavens  ! 

Thus  much  of  this  will  make  black,  white  ;  foul,  fair ; 

Wrong,  right ;  base,  noble  ;  old,  young  ;  coward,  valiant.    Ha, 

You  gods,  why  this  ?  what  this,  you  gods  ?     Why,  this 

Will  lug  your  priests  and  servants  from  your  sides ; 

Pluck  sick  men's  pillows  from  below  their  heads  :  ^ 

This  yellow  slave 

Will  knit  and  break  religions  ;  bless  th'  accursed ; 

Make  the  hoar  leprosy  adored  ;  place  thieves. 

And  give  them  title,  knee,  and  approbation, 

With  senators  on  the  bench  :  why,  this  it  is 

That  makes  the  wapper'd  widow  wed  i"  again ; 

She,  whom  the  spital-house  and  ulcerous  sores 

Would  cast  the  gorge  at,  this  embalms  and  spices 

To  th'  April  day  again. i^     Come,  damned  earth. 

Thou  common  whore  of  mankind,  that  putt'st  odds 

Among  the  rout  of  nations,  I  will  make  thee 

8  Idle  in  the  sense,  apparently,  oi  freakish,  fanciful,  or  insincere.  Timon 
is  praying  and  seeking  for  roots,  something  to  eat ;  and  liere  he  seems  to 
mean  tliat  he  is  not  a  fanciful  votarist,  to  be  diverted  from  that  quest  by  gold. 

s  Alluding,  probably,  to  the  inhuman  practice  ascribed  to  nurses  of  some- 
times drawing  the  pillows  from  under  the  heads  of  dying  people  in  order  to 
hasten  their  death. 

10  Wediox  wedded.  The  meaning  olzvapper'd  appears  to  be  over-worn 
or  broken-down.  Grose,  in  his  Provincial  Glossary,  explains  the  word  thus  : 
"  Restless,  or  fatigued.  Spoken  of  a  sick  person."  Its  meaning  is  further 
shown  by  a  passage  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  v.  4  :  "  We  come  towards 
the  gods,  young  and  totwapper'd,  not  halting  under  crimes  many  and  stale." 
So  that  the  passage  in  the  text  may  be  rendered  something  thus  :  "  This  it  is 
that  causes  the  worn-out  widow  to  be  sought  in  marriage :  this  makes  fra- 
grant and  beautiful  the  witliered,  frousy  hag,  whom  even  the  ulcered  inmates 
of  a  hospital  or  lazar-house  would  regard  with  loathing  and  disgust." 

11  That  is,  reinvests  with  all  the  charms  of  youth.  Tlie  old  poets  are  fond 
of  describing  youth  as  the  April  of  human  life. 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  2$/ 

Do    thy   right   nature.'^    \^March    within?\    Ha !    a   drum  ? 

Thou'rt  quick,''' 
But  yet  I'll  bury  thee  :  thou'lt  go,  strong  thief, 
When  gouty  keepers  of  thee  cannot  stand. 
Nay,  stay  thou  out  for  earnest.  {^Keeping  some  gold. 

Enter  Alcibiades,  with  drum  and  fife,  in  tvarlike  manner ; 
Phrynia  and  Timandra. 

Alcib.   What  art  thou  there  ?  speak. 

Tim.   A  beast,  as  thou  art.     The  canker  gnaw  thy  heart. 
For  showing  me  again  the  eyes  of  man  ! 

Alcib.    What  is  thy  name  ?     Is  man  so  hateful  to  thee. 
That  art  thyself  a  man  ? 

Ti)n.    I  am  misaiithropos,  and  hate  mankind. 
For  thy  part,  I  do  wish  thou  wert  a  dog. 
That  I  might  love  thee  something. 

Alcib.  I  know  thee  well ; 

But  in  thy  fortunes  am  unlearn'd  and  strange. i-* 

Tim.    I  know  thee  too  ;  and,  more  than  that  I  know  thee, 
I  not  desire  to  know.     Follow  thy  drum  ; 
With  man's  blood  paint  the  ground,  gules,  gules  :  ^^ 
Religious  canons,  civil  laws  are  cruel ; 
Then  what  should  war  be  ?     This  fell  whore  of  thine 
Hath  in  her  more  destruction  than  thy  sword, 
p'or  all  her  cherubin  look. 

Phryn.  Thy  lips  rot  off ! 

Tim.    I  will  not  kiss  thee  ;  then  the  rot  returns 
To  thine  own  lips  again.""' 

12  "  Make  thee  perform  the  ofTice  rightly  assigned  to  thee  by  nature,  — 
that  of  lying  in  the  earth." 

18  Quick  is  living,  or  having  life.    See  vol.  vii.  page  2i6,  note  i8. 

!■«  Strange  is  here  equivalent  to  a  stranger.     Repeatedly  so. 

16  Gules  is  the  old  heraldic  term  for  red,  or  blood-colour, 

10  Alluding  to  lh('  old  notion  that  infection  communicated  to  another  left 
the  infectcr  free.    "  I  will  not  take  the  rot  from  thy  lips  by  kissing  thee." 


258  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV. 

Alcib.    How  came  the  noble  Timon  to  this  change  ? 

Tim.    As  the  Moon  does,  by  wanting  light  to  give  : 
But  then  renew  I  could  not,  like  the  Moon  ; 
There  were  no  Suns  to  borrow  of. 

Alcib.    Noble  Timon,  what  friendship  may  I  do  thee  ? 

Tiin.    None,  but  to  maintain  my  opinion. 

Alcib.    What  is  it,  Timon? 

Tim.  Promise  me  friendship,  but  perform  none  :  if  thou 
wilt  not  promise,  the  gods  plague  thee,  for  thou  art  a  man  ! 
if  thou  dost  perform,  confound  thee,  for  thou  art  a  man  ! 

Alcib.    I've  heard  in  some  sort  of  thy  miseries. 

Ti7n.    Thou  saw'st  them,  when  I  had  prosperity. 

Alcib.    I  see  them  now ;  then  was  a  blessed  time. 

Tim.    As  thine  is  now,  held  with  a  brace  of  harlots. 

Timan.    Is  this  th'  Athenian  minion,  whom  the  world 
Voiced  so  regardfuUy  ? 

Tim.  Art  thou  Timandra? 

Timan.    Yes. 

Tim.   Be  a  whore  still :  they  love  thee  not  that  use  thee ; 
Give  them  diseases,  leaving  with  thee  their  lust. 
Make  use  of  thy  salt  ^"^  hours  :  season  the  slaves 
For  tubs  and  baths  ;  bring  down  rose-cheeked  youth 
To  th'  tub- fast  and  the  diet.i^ 

Timan.  Hang  thee,  monster  ! 

Alcib.    Pardon  him,  sweet  Timandra  ;  for  his  wits 
Are  drown'd  and  lost  in  his  calamines.  — 
I  have  but  little  gold  of  late,  brave  Timon, 
The  want  whereof  doth  daily  make  revolt 
In  my  penurious  band  :  I've  heard,  and  grieved, 
How  cursed  Athens,  mindless  of  thy  worth, 
Forgetting  thy  great  deeds,  when  neighbour  States, 

1"  The  Poet  repeatedly  uses  salt  for  lustful.    See  vol.  vi.  page  238,  note  41. 
18  Alluding  to  the  regimen  commonly  prescribed  for  the  lues  venera.    See 
page  223,  note  6,  and  the  reference  there. 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  259 

But  for  thy  sword  and  fortune,  trod  upon  them,  — 

Tim.    I  pr'ythee,  beat  thy  drum,  and  get  thee  gone. 

Akib.   I  am  thy  friend,  and  pity  tliee,  dear  Timun. 

Tim.    How  dost  thou  pity  him  whom  thou  dost  trouble  ? 
I  had  rather  be  alone. 

Akib.  Why,  fare  thee  well : 

Here's  some  gold  for  thee. 

Tim.  Keep't,  I  cannot  eat  it. 

Akib.    When  I  have  laid  proud  Athens  on  a  heap,  — 

Tim.    Warr'st  thou  'gainst  Athens? 

Akib.    Ay,  Timon,  and  have  cause. 

Tim.  The  gods  confound  them 

All,  in  thy  conquest ;  and  thee  after,  when 
Thou'st  conquer'd  ! 

Akib.  Why  me,  Timon  ? 

Tim.  That,  l)y  killing 

Of  villains,  thou  wast  born  to  scourge  my  country. 
Put  up  thy  gold  :  go  on,  — here's  gold,  —  go  on  ; 
Be  as  a  planetary  plague,  when  Jove 
Will  o'er  some  high-viced  city  hang  his  poison 
In  the  sick  air  :  let  not  thy  sword  skip  one  : 
Pity  not  honour'd  age  for  his  white  beard,  — 
He  is  an  usurer  :  strike  me  the  counterfeit  matron,  — 
It  is  her  habit  only  that  is  honest, 
Herself 's  a  bawd  :  let  not  the  virgin's  cheek 
Make  soft  thy  trenchant  sword  ;  for  those  milk-paps. 
That  through  the  window-bars  '^  bore  at  men's  eyes. 
Are  not  within  the  leaf  of  pity  writ, 
But  set  down  horrible  traitors  :  spare  not  the  babe, 
Whose  dimpled  smiles  from  fools  exhaust  their  mercy  ; 

19  The  windoiu-bars  in  question  meant  the  cross-bars  or  lattice-work 
worn,  as  we  see  it  in  the  Swiss  women's  firess,  across  the  breasts.  In  mod- 
ern tim.es,  these  bars  have  always  a  bodice  of  satin,  muslin,  or  other  inalerial 
beneath  them ;  at  one  period  they  crossed  the  nude  bosom.  —  S  iaunton. 


26o  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  act  iv. 

Think  it  a  bastard,-"  who  the  oracle 

Hath  doubtfully  pronounced  thy  throat  shall  cut, 

And  mince  it  sans  remorse  :  ^^  swear  against  objects  ;  -- 

Put  armour  on  thine  ears  and  on  thine  eyes ; 

Whose  proof,  nor  yells  of  mothers,  maids,  nor  babes. 

Nor  sight  of  priests  in  holy  vestments  bleeding, 

Shall  pierce  a  jot.     There's  gold  to  pay  thy  soldiers  : 

Make  large  confusion ;  and,  thy  fury  spent. 

Confounded  be  thyself !     Speak  not,  be  gone. 

Aliib.    Hast  thou  gold  yet?    I'll  take  the  gold  thou  givest 
me, 
Not  all  thy  counsel. 

Tim.    Dost  thou,  or  dost  thou  not.  Heaven's  curse  upon 
thee  ! 

F/ityn.  I  Give  us    some    gold,  good    Timon :    hast    thou 

Timan.  j  more? 

Tim.    Enough  to  make  a  whore  forswear  her  trade, 
And,  to  make  whores,  a  bawd.^*^     Hold  uj),  you  sluts, 
Your  aprons  mountant :  you  are  not  oathable  ;  — 
Although,  I  know,  you'll  swear,  terribly  swear, 
Into  strong  shudders  and  to  heavenly  agues, 

"^  Referring  to  the  story  of  QLciipus,  whose  tragic  fate  was  more  cele- 
brated than  that  of  any  other  legendary  personage.  His  father  Laius  was 
King  of  Thebes  and  husband  of  Jocaste.  An  oracle  had  informed  Laius 
that  he  was  destined  to  perish  by  the  hands  of  his  own  son.  So,  when  the 
child  was  born,  the  parents  bound  his  feet  together,  and  exposed  him  on 
Mount  Cithasron,  where  he  was  found  by  a  shepherd,  who  brought  him  up 
as  his  own  son.  The  child  lived  to  fulfil  the  oracle,  but  did  it  ignorantly. 
The  greatest  of  the  Greek  tragedies  are  occupied  with  the  theme. 

'^1  Remorse  in  Shakespeare  almost  always  means //Vy  or  compassion. 

-^  By  objects  here  must  be  understood  objects  of  tenderness  and  charity. 
This  appears  from  what  follows.  We  have  a  like  instance  in  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  iv.  5  :  "  For  Hector,  in  his  blaze  of  wrath,  subscribes  to  tender  ob- 
jects." Here  subscribe  is  yield,  relent,  or  submit,  and  so  is  the  opposite  of 
swear  against. 

23  That  is,  enough  to  induce  a  whore  to  give  up  whoring,  and  a  bawd  to 
leave  off  making  whores. 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  261 

Th'  immortal  gods  that  hear  you  ;  —  spare  your  oaths, 

I'll  trust  to  your  conditions.^'*     Be  whores  still ; 

And  he  whose  pious  breath  seeks  to  convert  you, 

Be  strong  in  whore,  allure  him,  burn  him  up  ; 

Let  your  close  fire  predominate  his  smoke,^^ 

And  be  no  turncoats  :  yet  may  your  pains,  six  months. 

Be  quite  contrary.     And  thatch  your  poor  thin  roofs 

With  burdens  of  the  dead  :  -'"'  some  that  were  hang'd, 

No  matter  :   wear  them,  betray  with  them.     Whore  still  : 

Paint  till  a  horse  may  mire  upon  your  face  : 

A  pox  of  wrinkles  ! 

IViryn.   \  Well,  more  gold.     \Vhat  then? 

Timan.  \  Beheve't,  that  we'll  do  any  thing  for  gold. 

Tim.    Consumptions  sow 
In  hollow  bones  of  men  ;  strike  their  sharp  shins, 
And  mar  their  spurring.     Crack  the  lawyer's  voice, 
That  he  may  never  more  false  title  plead, 
Nor  sound  his  quillets  -^  shrilly  :   hoar  the  flamen,^^ 
That  scolds  against  the  quality  of  flesh. 
And  not  believes  himself :   down  with  the  nose, 
Down  with  it  flat  ;  take  the  bridge  ([uite  away 


2<  Conditions  for  dispositions  or  aptitudes,  .is  usual  in  Shakespeare. 

2»  The  Poet  very  often  uses  close  in  the  sense  of  secret  or  hidden  :  here  it 
seems  to  mean  wanton  or  lustful :  that  which  is  apt  to  be  kept  hidden.  So 
that  the  sense  of  the  passage  is,  let  your  lustful  heat  prevail  over  his  "  smoke 
of  rhetoric." 

26  "  When  you  have  sinned  your  heads  into  baldness,  cover  them  with 
hair  stolen  from  the  dead  :  no  matter  how  foul  the  wretch  may  have  been 
who  wore  it,  pile  it  on,  and  with  it  make  yourselves  strong  to  allure."  The 
Poet  has  divers  allusions  to  the  custom  of  wearing  false  hair.  See  vol.  iii. 
page  173,  note  19. 

27  Quillets  are  subtilties  or  nice  iywA  frivolous  distinctions,  such  as  lawyers 
were  supposed  to  affect. 

28  Probably  meaning,  strike  or  inf-ct  the  priest  with  tlie  white  leprosy. 
So  in  a  former  speech  of  this  scene  :  "  Make  the  hoiir  leprosy  adored."  See 
Critical  Notes. 


262  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV. 

Of  him  that,  his  particular  to  foresee, 

Smells   from   the  general  weal :  -^  make  curl'd-pate  ruffians 

bald ; 
And  let  the  unscarr'd  braggarts  of  the  war 
Derive  some  pain  from  you  :  plague  all ; 
That  your  activity  may  defeat  and  quell 
The  source  of  all  erection.     There's  more  gold  : 
Do  you  damn  others,  and  let  this  damn  you, 
And  ditches  grave  you  all  ! 

Phry7i.   I  More    counsel    with    more    money,    bounteous 

Timan.  j  Timon. 

Tim.    More   whore,  more   mischief  first ;    I've  given  you 
earnest. 

Alcib.    Strike  up  the  drum  towards  Athens  !  —  Farewell, 
Timon  : 
If  I  thrive  well,  I'll  visit  thee  again. 

Tim.    If  I  hope  well,  I'll  never  see  thee  more. 

Alcib.    I  never  did  thee  harm. 

Tim.   Yes,  thou  spokest  well  of  me. 

Alcib.  Call'st  thou  that  harm  ? 

Ti7n.    Men  daily  find  it.     Get  thee  away,  and  take 
Thy  beagles  with  thee. 

Alcib.  We  but  offend  him.  —  Strike  ! 

\_Dnnn  beats.     Exeunt  Alcibiades,  Phrynia,  a7ui 

TiMANDRA. 

Tim.   That  nature,  being  sick  of  man's  unkindness, 
Should  yet  be  hungry  !  —  Common  mother,  thou,    [^Digging. 
Whose  womb  unmeasurable,  and  infinite  breast, 
Teems,  and  feeds  all ;  whose  self-same  mettle. 
Whereof  thy  proud  child,  arrogant  man,  is  puff  d. 
Engenders  the  black  toad  and  adder  blue, 

23  Of  him  wlio,  to  hunt  out  and  secure  his  own  private  interest,  leaves 
the  trace  or  scent  of  the  public  good. 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  263 

The  gilded  newt  and  eyeless  venom'd  worm,^'' 
\Vith  all  th'  abhorred  births  below  crisp-'"  heaven 
Whereon  Hyperion's  quickening  fire  iloth  shine  ; 
Yield  him,  who  all  thy  human  sons  doth  hate, 
From  forth  thy  plenteous  bosom,  one  poor  root  ! 
Ensear  thy  fertile  and  conceptious  womb, 
Let  it  no  more  bring  out  ingrateful  man  ! 
Go  great  with  tigers,  dragons,  wolves,  and  bears ; 
Teem  with  new  monsters,  whom  thy  upward  face 
Hath  to  the  marbled  mansion-hall  above 
Never  presented  !  —  O,  a  root,  —  dear  thanks  !  — 
Dry  up  thy  marrowy  vines  "^-  and  plough-torn  leas  ; 
^Vhereof  ingrateful  man,  with  liquorish  draughts 
And  morsels  unctuous,  greases  his  pure  mind, 
That  from  it  all  consideration  slips  !  — 

Enter  Apf.m.\ntus. 

More  man  ?  plague,  plague  ! 

Apein.    I  was  directed  hither  :   men  report 
I'hou  dost  affect  my  manners,  and  dost  use  them. 

Tim.    'Tis,  then,  because  thou  dost  not  keep  a  dog, 
Whom  I  would  imitate  :   consumption  catch  thee  ! 

Apcm.    This  is  in  thee  a  nature  but  infected  ;  ^^ 

3"  What,  from  the  smallncss  of  its  eyes,  was  commonly  called  the  blind- 
luorm.    The  Latin  name  is  ccccilia. 

81  Crisp  properly  meant  about  the  same  as  curled.  The  word  is  jiroba- 
bly  used  here  with  reference  to  what  the  Poet  elsewhere  calls  "  \\\g  curl'd 
clouds."     Sec  vol.  vii.  page  84,  note  28. 

32  Vines  are  probably  called  marrowy  in"  reference  to  the  quality  and 
effect  of  what  proceeds  from  them.  Cotgrave  has  "  Motilleux,  Marrowie, 
|)ithie,  full  of  strength  or  strong  sap."  In  the  last  scene  of  this  play,  we  have 
the  substantive  marrow  used  for  sirengtk  or  internal  vigour  :  "  Now  the 
time  is  flush,  when  crouching  marrow,"  &c. 

*'•  Meaning,  apparently,  "this  is  not  your  natural  and  proper  character, 
but  merely  a  disease  tliat  you  have  caught,  or  the  issue  of  a  mind  poisoned 
by  adversity  and  disappointment." 


264  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  iv 

A  poor  unmanly  melancholy  sprung 
From  change  of  fortune.     Why  this  s]3ade,  this  place, 
This  slave-like  habit,  and  these  looks  of  care? 
Thy  flatterers  yet  wear  silk,  drink  wine,  lie  soft ; 
Hug  their  diseased  perfumes,^'*  and  have  forgot 
That  ever  Timon  was.     Shame  not  these  woods, 
By  putting  on  the  cunning  of  a  carper.^-'' 
Be  thou  a  flatterer  now,  and  seek  to  thrive 
By  that  which  has  undone  thee  :  hinge  thy  knee, 
And  let  his  very  breath,  whom  thou 'It  observe. 
Blow  off  thy  cap  ;  praise  his  most  vicious  strain, 
And  call  it  excellent.    Thou  wast  told  thus  : 
Thou  gavest  thine  ears,  like  tapsters  that  bid  welcome. 
To  knaves  and  all  approachers  :   'tis  most  just 
That  thou  turn  rascal ;  hadst  thou  wealth  again, 
Rascals  should  have't.     Do  not  assume  my  likeness. 
Tim.    Were  I  like  thee,  I'd  throw  away  myself 
Apem.   Thou'st  cast  away  thyself,  being  like  thyself; 
A  madman  so  long,  now  a  fool.     What,  think'st 
That  the  bleak  air,  thy  boisterous  chamberlain, 
Will  put  thy  shirt  on  warm?  will  these  moss'd  trees. 
That  have  outlived  the  eagle,  page  thy  heels. 
And  skip  where  thou  point'st  out  ?  will  the  cold  brook. 
Candied  36  with  ice,  caudle  thy  morning  taste. 
To  cure  thy  o'er-night's  surfeit  ?     Call  the  creatures. 
Whose  naked  natures  live  in  all  the  spite 

3-*  That  is,  diseased  women,  whose  proper  odour  is  smothered  in  perfumes. 
So  in  Othello,  iv.  i :  "  'Tis  such  unoXher  fitchew  f  marry,  a. perfumed  one." 

35  "  The  cunning  of  a  carper"  probably  means  the  knowledge  or  the  style 
of  a  satirist  or  a.  fault-finder.  Carping  momuses  was  a  general  term  for  fas- 
tidious and  ill-natured  critics. 

36  Candied  is  crusted,  or  covered  over,  with  crystallized  matter.  Else- 
where the  same  word  is  used  of  a  tongue  frosted  over  with  the  sugar  of 
adulation.  See  vol.  xiv.  page  227,  note  8.  — Ca«<f/(?,  substantive,  was  used  for 
a  warm  or  warming  drink;  what  we  call  a  cordial.  See  vol.  ii.  page  63, 
note  19. 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  265 

Of  wreakful  heaven  ;  whose  bare  unhoused  trunks, 
To  the  conflicting  elements  exposed, 
Answer  mere  nature  ;  ^~  bid  them  flatter  thee  : 
O,  thou  shalt  find  — 

T/m.  A  fool  of  thee  :  depart. 

Apem.    I  love  thee  better  now  than  e'er  I  did. 

Tim.    I  hate  thee  worse. 

Ape77i.  Why? 

Tim.  Thou  flatter'st  misery. 

Apem.    I  flatter  not ;  but  say  thou  art  a  caitiff. 

Tim.    Why  dost  thou  seek  me  out? 

Apem.  To  vex  thee. 

Tim.    .Always  a  villain's  office  or  a  fool's. 
Dost  please  thyself  in't  ? 

Apem.  Ay. 

Tim.  What !  a  knave  too? 

Apem.    If  thou  didst  put  this  sour-cold  habit  on 
To  castigate  thy  pride,  'twere  well :  but  thou 
Dost  it  enforcedly ;  thou'dst  courtier  be  again, 
Wert  thou  not  beggar.     Willing  misery 
Outlives  incertain  pomp,  is  crown'd  before  : 
The  one  is  filling  still,  never  complete ; 
The  other,  at  high  wish  :  38  best  state,  contentless. 
Hath  a  distracted  and  most  wretched  being, 
Worse  than  the  worst,  content. 
Thou  shouldst  desire  to  die,  being  miserable. 

Tim.    \ot  by  his  breath  that  is  more  miserable. 
Thou  art  a  slave,  whom  Fortune's  tender  arm 

'^  " .\nnufr  mere  nature"  is  have  no  more  than  the  absolute  necessities  of 
nature  require.     The  Poet  often  uses  mere  thus. 

"8  A  vohinfary  or  chosen  wretchedness  has  its  wishes  cniwnod  in  advance, 
or  at  once  ;  while  a  craving  after  skittish  pomp  is  never  satisfied ;  though 
always  filling,  still  it  is  never  full.  Thus  the  former  is  at  the  height  or  sum- 
mit of  its  wish,  and  so  outlives  the  latter,  which  wastes  in  constant  struggling 
after  more. 


266  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV, 

With  favour  never  clasp 'd  ;  but  bred  a  dog. 

Hadst  thou,  Uke  us  from  our  first  swath,^'-*  proceeded 

The  sweet  degrees  that  this  brief  world  affords 

To  such  as  may  the  passive  drudges  of  it 

Freely  command,  thou  wouldst  have  plunged  thyself 

In  general  riot;  melted  down  thy  youth 

In  different  beds  of  lust ;  and  never  learn'd 

Thy  icy  precepts  of  respect,^°  but  follow'd 

The  sugar'd  game  before  thee.     But  myself. 

Who  had  the  world  as  my  confectionary  ; 

The  mouths,  the  tongues,  the  eyes,  and  hearts  of  men 

At  duty,  more  than  I  could  frame  employment ; 

That,  numberless  upon  me  stuck,  as  leaves 

Do  on  the  oak,  have  with  one  Winter's  brush 

Fell  from  their  boughs,  and  left  me  open,  bare 

For  every  storm  that  blows  ;  ''i  —  I,  to  bear  this, 

39  That  is,  from  our  earliest  infaricy,  the  time  when  we  are  first  dressed 
in  swathing  clothes.  —  Johnson  aptly  comments  upon  the  passage  :  "  There 
is  in  this  speech  a  sullen  haughtiness  and  malignant  dignity,  suitable  at 
once  to  the  lord  and  the  man-hater.  The  impatience  with  which  he  bears 
to  have  his  luxury  reproached  by  one  that  never  had  luxury  within  his 
reach  is  natural  and  graceful."  And  he  quotes  a  like  strain  from  a  letter 
written  by  the  ill-starred  Earl  of  Essex  just  before  his  execution  :  "  I  had 
none  but  divines  to  call  upon  me,  to  whom  I  said,  if  my  ambition  could 
have  entered  into  their  narrow  hearts,  they  would  not  have  been  so  hum- 
ble; or  if  my  delights  had  been  once  tasted  by  them,  they  would  not  have 
been  so  precise." 

40  The  cold  teachings  of  a  considerate  and  cautious  mind.  The  use  of 
respect  for  consideration  is  very  frequent. 

41  The  grammar  of  this  passage  is  rather  badly  disjointed  ;  but  the  sense, 
though  somewhat  obscured,  is  not  very  hard  to  find.  The  difficulty  will 
be  partly  cleared  by  taking  stuck  as  a  participle,  not  as  a  verb.  Shakespeare 
has  rather  too  many  passages  in  which  the  forms  of  metaphor  and  sin.ile 
are  thus  mixed.     A  like  web  of  imagery  occurs  in  his  73d  Sonnet : 

That  time  of  year  thou  mayst  in  rae  behold 
When  yellow  leaves,  or  none,  or  few,  do  hang 

Upon  those  boughs  which  shal;e  against  the  cold, 
Bare  ruin'd  choirs,  where  late  the  sweet  birds  sang. 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  26/ 

That  never  knew  but  better,  is  some  burden  : 

Thy  nature  did  commence  in  sufferance,  time 

Hath  made  thee  hard  in't.     Why  shouldst  thou  hate  men? 

They  never  flatter'd  thee  :  what  hast  thou  given? 

If  thou  wilt  curse,  thy  father,  that  poor  rogue, 

NFustbe  thy  subject;  who,  in  spite,  put  stuff 

To  some  she-beggar,  and  compounded  thee 

Poor  rogue  hereditary.     Hence,  be  gone  ! 

I  f  thou  hadst  not  been  born  the  worst  of  men, 

Thou'dst  been  a  knave  and  flatterer."*- 

Apem.  Art  thou  proud  yet? 

Tim.    Ay,  that  I  am  not  thee. 

Apem.  I,  that  I  was 

No  prodigal. 

Tim.  I,  that  I  am  one  now  : 

Were  all  the  wealth  I  have  shut  up  in  thee, 
I'd  give  thee  leave  to  hang  it.     Get  thee  gone. 
That  the  whole  life  of  .Athens  were  in  this  ! 
Thus  would  I  eat  it.  \_Gnaiuing  a  root. 

Apem.  Here  ;  I'll  mend  thy  feast. 

[  Offering  him  somef/iiftg. 

Tim.    First  mend  my  company,  take  away  thyself. 

Apem.    So  I  shall  mend  mine  own,  by  th'  lack  of  thine. 

Tim.    'Tis  not  well  mended  so,  it  is  but  botch'd  ; 
If  not,  I  would  it  were. 

/\pcm.    What  wouldst  thou  have  to  Athens? 

Tim.   Thee  thither  in  a  whirlwind.     If  thou  wilt. 
Tell  them  there  I  have  gold  ;  look,  so  I  have. 

Apem.    Here  is  no  use  for  gold. 

<■-  Drydcn  has  quoted  two  lines  from  Virgil,  to  show  how  well  lie  could 
have  written  satires.  Shakespeare  has  here  given  a  specimen  of  the 
same  power,  by  a  line  bitter  beyond  all  bitterness,  in  wliich  'limon  tells 
Apcmantiis  that  he  had  not  virtue  enough  for  the  vices  wliich  In-  condemns. 
—Johnson. 


268  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV. 

Thn.  The  best  and  truest ; 

For  here  it  sleeps,  and  does  no  hired  harm. 

Apem.    Where  Hest  o'  nights,  Timon? 

Tim.  Under  that's  above  me.  Where  feedest  thou  o' 
days,  Apemantus? 

Apem.  Where  my  stomach  finds  meat ;  or,  rather,  where 
I  eat  it. 

Twi.    Would  poison  were  obedient,  and  knew  my  mind  ! 

Apem.    Where  wouldst  thou  send  it? 

Ti7n.    To  sauce  thy  dishes. 

Apem.  The  middle  of  humanity  thou  never  knewest,  but 
the  extremity  of  both  ends  :  when  thou  wast  in  thy  gilt  and 
thy  perfume  they  mock'd  thee  for  too  much  curiosity ;  '^■^  in 
thy  rags  thou  know'st  none,  but  art  despised  for  the  contrary. 
There's  a  medlar  for  thee  ;  eat  it. 

7m.    On  what  I  hate  I  feed  not. 

Apem.    Dost  hate  a  medlar? 

Tim.    Ay,  though  ^^  it  look  like  thee. 

Apem.  An  thou'dst  hated  meddlers  sooner,  thou  shouldst 
have  loved  thyself  better  now.  What  man  didst  thou  ever 
know  unthrift  that  was  beloved  after  his  means  ?''^ 

Tim.  Who,  without  those  means  thou  talk'st  of,  didst 
thou  ever  know  beloved  ? 

Apem.    Myself. 

Tim.  I  understand  thee  ;  thou  hadst  some  means  to  keep 
a  dog. 

Apem.  What  things  in  the  world  canst  thou  nearest  com- 
pare to  thy  flatterers? 

•'3  Meaning,  probably,  loo  curious  or  too  delicate  in  food,  dress,  and 
equipage.     The  Poet  elsewhere  has  curiosity  for  scrupulous  exactness. 

'^  Though  here  has  the  force  oi  for,  since,  or  because  :  since  it  loois  like 
thee.     Repeatedly  so.     See  vol.  v.  page  184,  note  21. 

■*5  "  What  prodigal  didst  thou  ever  know,  that  was  beloved  after  his 
means  were  spent  ?  " 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  269 

Tim.  Women  nearest ;  but  men,  men  are  the  things 
themselves.  What  wouldst  thou  do  with  the  world,  Ape- 
mantus,  if  it  lay  in  thy  power? 

Apem.    Give  it  the  beasts,  to  be  rid  of  the  men. 

7}';«.  Wouldst  thou  have  thyself  fall  in  the  confusion  of 
men,  and  remain  a  beast  with  the  beasts? 

Apem.    Ay,  Timon. 

Tim.  A  beastly  ambition,  which  the  gods  grant  thee  to 
attain  to  !  If  thou  wert  the  lion,  the  fox  would  beguile 
thee  :  if  thou  wert  the  lamb,  the  fox  would  eat  thee  :  if  thou 
wert  the  fox,  the  lion  would  suspect  thee,  when,  peradven- 
ture,  thou  wert  accused  by  the  ass  :  if  thou  wert  the  ass, 
thy  dulness  would  torment  thee  ;  and  still  thou  livedst  but 
as  a  breakfast  to  the  wolf:  if  thou  wert  the  wolf,  thy  greedi- 
ness would  afflict  thee,  and  oft  thou  shouldst  hazard  thy  life 
for  thy  dinner :  wert  thou  the  imicorn,  pride  and  wrath 
would  confound  thee,  and  make  thine  own  self  the  con- 
quest of  thy  fury  :  ^^  wert  thou  a  bear,  thou  wouldst  be  kill'd 
by  the  horse  :  wert  thou  a  horse,  thou  wouldst  be  seized  by 
the  leoi)ard  :  wert  thou  a  leopard,  thou  wert  german  ^'^  to 
the  lion,  and   the   spots  of  thy  kindred  were  jurors  on  thy 

<*•  That  fabulous  old  beast,  the  unicorn,  was  fabled  to  be  caught  in  the 
manner  thus  set  forth  in  The  Faerie  Queene.  ii.  5,  10: 

Like  as  a  lyon,  whose  impcriall  powre 

A  proud  rebellious  unicorn  defycs, 
T'  .ivoidc  the  r.ish  .assault  and  wrathful  stowrc 

Of  his  fiers  foe,  him  to  a  ircc  applyes; 

And,  when  himronning  in  full  course  he  spycs, 
He  slips  aside;   the  whiles  that  furious  beast 

His  precious  home,  sought  of  his  enimyes, 
Strikes  in  the  stocke,  nc  thence  can  be  releast, 
But  to  the  mighty  victor  yields  a  bounteous  feast. 

*''  A  german  is  a  brother,  or  one  like  a  brother  in  nearness  of  blood. 
This  passage  seems  to  imply  that  the  lion,  like  some  other  monarchs,  "  bears 
no  brother  near  the  throne."  So,  in  Macbeth,  ii.  i,  Donalbain  says,  referring 
to  the  hero,  "  the  nearer  in  blood,  the  nearer  bloody'' 


2/0  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV 

life  :  all  thy  safety  were  remotion,'*^  and  thy  defence  absence. 
What  beast  couldst  thou  be,  that  were  not  subject  to  a  beast? 
and  what  a  beast  art  thou  already,  that  seest  not  thy  loss  in 
transformation  ! 

Apem.  If  thou  couldst  please  me  with  speaking  to  me, 
thou  mightst  have  hit  upon  it  here  :  the  commonwealth  of 
Athens  is  become  a  forest  of  beasts. 

Tim.  How  has  the  ass  broke  the  wall,  that  thou  art  out 
of  the  city? 

Apem.  Yonder  comes  a  parcel  of  soldiers  :  "^^  the  plague 
of  company  light  upon  thee  !  I  will  fear  to  catch  it,  and 
give  way  :  when  I  know  not  what  else  to  do,  I'll  see  thee 
again. 

Titn.  When  there  is  nothing  living  but  thee,  thou  shalt 
be  welcome.  I  had  rather  be  a  beggar's  dog  than  Ape- 
man  tus. 

Apem.    Thou  art  the  cap  of  all  the  fools  alive. 

Tifn.    Would  thou  wert  clean  enough  to  spit  upon  ! 

Apem.    A  plague  on  thee,  thou  art  too  bad  to  curse  ! 

Tim.    All  villains  that  do  stand  by  thee  are  pure. 

Apem.    There  is  no  leprosy  but  what  thou  speak'st. 

Tim.    If  I  name  thee. 
I'd  beat  thee,  but  I  should  infect  my  hands. 

Apem.    I  would  my  tongue  could  rot  them  off! 

Titn.    Away,  thou  issue  of  a  mangy  dog  ! 

■IS  Rctnotion  here  is  seclusion  from  society,  or  sequestration. 

49  Of  course  these  "  soldiers  "  are  the  same  who,  a  little  further  on,  are 
intro'^uced  as  "  Banditti."  It  would  seem  that,  not  liking  the  title  of  "thieves," 
they  call  themselves  soldiers,  and  have  assumed  the  garb  and  bearing  of 
such ;  so  that  an  eye  less  piercing  than  Timon's  naturally  mistakes  their 
quality.  At  the  opening  of  the  next  Act,  they  are  spoken  of  as  "  poor  strag- 
gling soldiers."  Doubtless  one  reason  why  Apemantus  takes  himself  off 
when  he  does  is  because  he  sees  them  coming,  and  thinks  it  would  not  be 
in  keeping  with  his  profession  of  Cynic  to  endure  any  human  society  but 
that  of  Timon,  or  of  others  minded  like  him. 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  27 1 

Choler  does  kill  me  that  thou  art  alive ; 
I  swoon  to  see  thee. 

Apem.  Would  thou  wouldst  burst  I 

Tim.  Away, 

Thou  tedious  rogue  !    I'm  sorry  I  shall  lose 
A  stone  by  thee.  \_Throws  a  stone  at  him. 

Apem.  Beast ! 

Tim.  Slave  ! 

Apem.  Toad ! 

Titn.  Rogue,  rogue,  rogue  !  — 

[APEM.A.NTUS  retreats  backward,  as  going. 
I'm  sick  of  this  false  world ;  and  will  love  nought 
But  even  the  mere  necessities  upon't. 
Then,  Timon,  presently  prepare  thy  grave  ; 
Lie  where  the  light  foam  of  the  sea  may  beat 
Thy  grave-stone  daily  :  make  thine  epitaph, 
That  death  in  me  at  others'  lives  may  laugh.  — 

\_Looki?ig  on  the  gold. 
O  thou  sweet  king-killer,  and  dear  divorce 
'Twixt  natural  son  and  sire  !  thou  bright  defiler 
Of  Hymen's  purest  bed  !  thou  valiant  Mars  ! 
Thou  ever  young,  fresh,  loved,  and  delicate  wooer. 
Whose  blush  doth  thaw  the  consecrated  snow 
That  lies  on  Dian's  lap  !  thou  visible  god, 
That  solder'st-close  impossibilities,^" 
And  makest  them  kiss  !  that  speak'st  with  every  tongue, 
To  every  purpose  !     O  thou  touch  of  hearts  !•'•' 
Think,  thy  slave  man  rebels  ;  and  by  thy  virtue 
Set  them  into  confounding  odds,  that  beasts 
May  have  the  world  in  empire  ! 

Apem.    \_Coming forward.']       Would  'twere  so  ! 

'"  That  is,  c.iuscst  incompatible  things  to  unite  in  tho  closest  leapuc. 
f''   Touch  for  touchstone,  that  which  tests  what  stuff  hearts  arc  make  of. 
Spo  parjr  235,  note  i. 


272  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  iv. 

But  not  till  I  am  dead.     I'll  say  thou'st  gold  : 
Thou  wilt  be  throng'd  to  shortly. 

Tim.  Throng'd  to  ! 

Ape  fit.  Ay. 

Tim.    Thy  back,  I  pr'ythee. 

Apem.  Live,  and  love  thy  misery  ! 

Tim.    Long  live  so,  and  so  die  !     \_Exit  Apemantus.]  — 
Now  I  am  quit. 
More  things  like  men  ?     Eat,  Timon,  and  abhor  them. 

Enter  Banditti. 

1  Ban.  Where  should  he  have  this  gold  ?  It  is  some 
poor  fragment,  some  slender  ort  of  his  remainder  :  the  mere 
want  of  gold,  and  the  falling-off  of  his  friends,  drove  him 
into  this  melancholy. 

2  Ban.    It  is  noised  he  hath  a  mass  of  treasure. 

J  Ban.  Let  us  make  the  assay  upon  him  :  if  he  care  not 
for't,  lie  will  supply  us  easily ;  if  he  covetously  reserve  it, 
how  shall's  get  it? 

2  Ban,    True ;  for  he  bears  it  not  about  him,  'tis  hid. 

1  Ban.    Is  not  this  he  ? 
Banditti.    Where  ? 

2  Ban.    'Tis  his  description. 
J  Ban.    He  ;  I  know  him. 
Banditti.    Save  thee,  Timon. 
Titn.    Now,  thieves  ? 
Banditti.   Soldiers,  not  thieves. 

Tim.  Both  too  ;  and  women's  sons. 

Banditti.    We  are  not  thieves,  but  men  that  much  do  want. 
Tim.    Your  greatest  want  is,  you  want  much  of  men.^- 
Why  should  you  want  ?     Behold,  the  earth  hath  roots  ; 


S2  An  equivoque,  one  meaning  of  which  is,  you  lack  much  oi  being  men  ; 
the  other  is  expressed  a  little  further  on,  "  You  must  eat  men." 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  2/3 

Witliin  this  mile  break  forth  a  hundred  springs  ; 
The  oaks  bear  mast,  the  briers  scarlet  hips ; 
The  bounteous  housewife,  Nature,  on  each  bush 
Lays  her  full  mess  before  you.     Want !  why  want  ? 

/  Ban.   We  cannot  live  on  grass,  on  berries,  water, 
As  beasts  and  birds  and  fishes. 

Tim.    Nor  on  the  beasts  themselves,  the  birds,  and  fishes ; 
You  must  eat  men.     Yet  thanks  I  must  you  con,^^ 
That  you  are  thieves  profess'd  ;  that  you  work  not 
In  holier  shapes  :  for  there  is  boundless  theft 
In  limited  ^^  professions.     Rascal  thieves, 
Here's  gold.     Go,  suck  the  subtle  blood  o'  the  grape, 
Till  the  high  fever  seethe  your  blood  to  froth. 
And  so  'scape  hanging  :  trust  not  the  physician  ; 
His  antidotes  are  poison,  and  he  slays 
More  than  you  rob  :   take  wealth  and  lives  together ; 
Do  villainy,  do,  since  you  protest  to  do't. 
Like  workmen.     I'll  example  you  with  thievery : 
The  Sun's  a  thief,  and  with  his  great  attraction 
Robs  the  vast  sea  :  the  Moon's  an  arrant  thief, 
And  her  pale  fire  she  snatches  from  the  Sun  : 
The  sea's  a  thief,  whose  liciuid  surge  resolves 
The  Moon  into  salt  tears  :  •''^  the  Earth's  a  thief, 

6*  To  con  a  man  thanks  is  to  be  beholden  or  obliged  to  him,  or,  simply,  to 
thank  him.    See  vol.  iv.  page  97,  note  9. 

5<  Limited  for  appointed  or  allowed.  Repeatedly  so.  See  vol.  ix.  page 
271,  note  3. 

65  This  language  sounds  strange  to  us,  but  was  doubtless  in  accordance 
with  the  popular  notions  of  the  time.  The  Moon  is  called  "  the  watery  star  " 
in  The  Winter's  Ta/^,  and  "  the  wo/'j/ star "  in  Hamlet;  \xi  A  Midsummer- 
Night's  Dream,  also,  we  have  "  the  chaste  beams  of  the  watery  Moon,"  and, 
in  Romeo  and  'Juliet,  "  the  moonshine's  watery  beams."  All  these  phrases 
probably  refer  to  the  connection  between  the  Moon  and  the  tides,  or  to  the 
formation  of  dew  when  the  Moon  shines  in  a  clear  sky ;  perhaps  to  both. 
Antl,  in  the  text,  it  would  seem  that  the  sea  is  said  to  melt  the  Moon  into 
salt  tears,  \n  allusion  to  the  (low  of  the  tides,  and  to  her  influence  on  the 


274  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV. 

That  feeds  and  breeds  by  a  composture  stol'n 
From  general  excrement :   each  thing's  a  thief : 
The  laws,  your  curb  and  whip,  in  their  rough  power 
Have  uncheck'd  theft.     Love  not  yourselves  :  away, 
Rob  one  another.     There's  more  gold.     Cut  throats ; 
All  that  you  meet  are  thieves.     To  Athens,  go  : 
Break  open  shops  ;  nought  can  you  steal,  but  thieves 
Do  lose  it :  steal  not  less  for  this  I  give  you  ; 
And  gold  confound  you  howsoe'er  !     Amen. 

[TiMON  irtires  to  his  cave. 
3  Ban.    'Has  almost  charm'd  me  from  my  profession,  by 
persuading  me  to  it. 

1  Ban.    'Tis    in    the    malice    of    mankind    that    he    thus 
advises  us  ;  not  to  have  us  thrive  in  our  mystery. 

2  Ban.    I'll  believe  him  as  an  enemy,  and  give  over  my 
trade. 

I  Ban.    Let  us  first  see   peace   in  Athens  :    there   is   no 
time  so  miserable  but  a  man  may  be  true. 

\_Exeunt  Banditti. 
Enter  the  Steward. 

Stew.    O  you  gods  ! 
Is  yond  despised  and  ruinous  man  my  lord? 
*Full  of  decay  and  failing?     O  monument 
*And  wonder  of  good  deeds  evilly  bestow'd  ! 
*What  an  alteration  of  honour  ^^e  has  desperate  want  made  ! 
*What  viler  thing  upon  the  Earth  than  friends 
*Who  can  bring  noblest  minds  to  basest  ends  ? 
*How  rarely  does  it  meet  with  this  time's  guise, 

weather,  which  she  was  supposed  to  govern.     The  Moon's  lachrymose  dis- 
position is  drawn  upon  again  in  King  Richard  III.,  ii.  2  : 

That  I,  heing  govern' dhy  the  watery  Moon, 
May  send  forth  plenteous  tears  to  drown  the  world. 

56  That  is,  a  change  from  a  state  of  honour  to  one  of  disgrace. 


SCENE  in.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  2/5 

*\Vhen  man  was  wish'd  to  love  his  enemies  !^' 

*Grant  I  may  ever  love,  and  rather  woo 

*Those  that  would  mischief  me  than  those  that  do  ! 

'Has  caught  me  in  his  eye  :  I  will  present 

My  honest  grief  to  him  ;  and,  as  my  lord, 

Still  serve  him  with  my  life.  — 

TiMON  comes  fonvard from  his  cave. 

My  dearest  master  ! 

Tim.    Away  !  what  art  thou  ? 

Stew.  Have  you  forgot  me,  sir? 

Tim.    Why  dost  ask  that?    I  have  forgot  all  men ; 
Then,  if  thou  grant'st  thou  art  a  man,  I  have  forgot  thee. 

Stciu.    An  honest  poor  servant  of  yours. 

Tim.  Then  I  know  thee  not :  I  ne'er  had  honest  man 
about  me,  I ;  all  I  kept  were  knaves,  to  serve  in  meat  to 
villains. 

Steiv.    The  gods  are  witness. 
Ne'er  did  poor  steward  wear  a  truer  grief 
For  his  undone  lord  than  mine  eyes  for  you. 

Tim.    What,  dost  thou  weep  ?  come  nearer  :  tlien  I  love 
thee. 
Because  thou  art  a  woman,  and  disclaim'st 
Flinty  mankind  ;  whose  eyes  do  never  give 
But  thorough ^^  lust  and  laughter.      Pity's  sleeping  : 
Strange  times,  that  weep  with  laughing,  not  with  weeping  ! 

Sicw.    I  beg  of  you  to  know  me,  good  my  lord, 
T'  accept  my  grief,  and,  whilst  this  poor  wealth  lasts, 

'■''  "  How  admirably  does  the  command  to  love  our  enemies  accord  witli 
the  fashion  of  this  time !  "  The  sense  is  somewhat  darkened  \iy  the  peculiar 
use  of  rarely,  when,  and  wish'd.  The  passage  amounts  to  an  apt  paraphrase 
of  the  proverbial  saying,  "  Defend  me  from  my  friends;  from  my  enemies  I 
can  defend  myself" 

''8  The  indifferent  use  of  thoroui^k  and  through  occurs  very  often.  — 
"  Whose  eyes  do  vi&^fix  give  "  means  wliosc  eyes  never  shed  tears. 


276  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  IV. 

To  entertain  me  as  your  steward  still. 

Tim.    Had  I  a  steward 
So  true,  so  just,  and  now  so  comfortable  P^^ 
It  almost  turns  my  dangerous  nature  ^'^  mild. 
Let  me  behold  thy  face.  —  Surely,  this  man 
Was  born  of  woman.  — 

Forgive  my  general  and  exceptless  rashness,  you 
Perpetual-sober  gods  !     I  do  proclaim 
One  honest  man,  —  mistake  me  not,  —  but  one  ; 
No  more,  I  say,  —  and  he's  a  steward.  — 
How  fain  would  I  have  hated  all  mankind  ! 
And  thou  redeem'st  thyself :  but  all,  save  thee, 
I  fell  with  curses. 

Methinks  thou  art  more  honest  now  than  wise ; 
For,  by  oppressing  and  betraying  me. 
Thou  mightst  have  sooner  got  another  service  : 
For  many  so  arrive  at  second  masters. 
Upon  their  first  lord's  neck.     But  tell  me  true,  — • 
For  I  must  ever  doubt,  though  ne'er  so  sure,  — 
Is  not  thy  kindness  subtle-covetous, 
A  usuring  kindness,  as  rich  men  deal  gifts. 
Expecting  twenty  in  return  for  one  ? 

Stew.    No,  my  most  worthy  master  ;  in  whose  breast 
Doubt  and  suspect,  alas,  are  placed  too  late. 
You  should  have  fear'd  false  times  when  you  did  feast : 
Suspect  still  comes  .when  an  estate  is  least. 
That  which  I  show,  Heaven  knows,  is  merely  love, 
Duty  and  zeal  to  your  unmatched  mind, 
Care  o^  your  food  and  living  ;  and,  believe  it, 

S3  Comfortable  in  the  sense  of  comforting  or  giving  comfort.  The  use  of 
the  passive  form  with  the  active  sense  occurs  oftener,  I  think,  in  that  word 
than  in  any  other.     See  vol.  v.  page  158,  note  21. 

60  Timon's  dangerous  nature  is  his  savage  wildness,  a  sort  ol  frenzy  super- 
induced by  the  baseness  and  ingratitude  of  men;  a  man-hating  rapture. 


SCENE  III.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  277 

My  most  honour'd  lord, 

For  any  benefit  that  points  to  me, 

Either  in  hope  or  present,  I'd  exchange  it 

For  this  one  wish,  that  you  liad  power  and  wealth 

To  reciuite  me,  by  making  rich  yourself. 

Tim.    Look  thee,  'tis  so  !  —  Thou  singly  honest  man, 
Here,  take  :  the  gods,  out  of  my  misery, 
Have  sent  thee  treasure.     Go,  live  rich  and  happy. 
But  thus  condition'd  :  Thou  shalt  build  from  men ; ''' 
Hate  all,  curse  all ;  show  charity  to  none  ; 
But  let  the  famish'd  flesh  slide  from  the  bone, 
Ere  thou  relieve  the  beggar :  give  to  dogs 
What  thou  deny'st  to  men  ;  let  prisons  swallow  'em, 
Debts  wither  'em  to  nothing  :  be  men  like  blasted  woods. 
And  may  diseases  lick  up  their  false  bloods  ! 
And  so,  farewell,  and  thrive. 

Steiu.  O,  let  me  stay, 

And  comfort  you,  my  master. 

Titn.  If  thou  hatest 

Curses,  stay  not ;  fly,  whilst  thou'rt  blest  and  free  : 
Ne'er  see  thou  man,  and  let  me  ne'er  see  thee. 

\_Exit  Steward.     Timon  retires  to  his  cave. 

''^  Meaning   apart,  sei/iu-stcred,  or  remote  from  human  society.  — •  Thus 
condition'd  is  on  these  conditions. 


2/8  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 


ACT    V. 

Scene  I.  —  The  Woods.     Before  Timon's  Cave. 

Enter  Poet  and  Painter;    Timon  zvatching  them  from  his 

cave. 

Fain.  As  I  took  note  of  the  place,i  it  cannot  be  far  where 
he  abides. 

Poet.  What's  to  be  thought  of  him  ?  does  the  rumor  hold 
for  true,  that  he's  so  full  of  gold? 

Pain.  Certain :  Alcibiades  reports  it ;  Phrynia  and  Ti- 
mandra  had  gold  of  him  ;  he  likewise  enrich'd  poor  strag- 
gling soldiers  with  great  quantity ;  'tis  said  he  gave  unto  his 
steward  a  mighty  sum. 

Poet.  Then  this  breaking  of  his  has  been  but  a  try  for  his 
friends. 

Pain.  Nothing  else  :  you  shall  see  him  a  palm  in  Athens 
again,  and  flourish  with  the  highest.  Therefore  'tis  not  amiss 
we  tender  our  loves  to  him,  in  this  supposed  distress  of  his  : 
it  will  show  honestly  in  us ;  and  is  very  likely  to  load  our 
purposes  with  what  they  travail  for,  if  it  be  a  just  and  true 
report  that  goes  of  his  having. 

Poet.    What  have  you  now  to  present  unto  him? 

1  This  obviously  infers  that  the  Painter,  having  heard  the  rumour  of 
Timon's  new  wealth,  has  before  been  out,  alone,  on  a  tour  of  exploration,  to 
ascertair  his  whereabout,  and  perhaps  also  to  gather  more  certainty  touch- 
ing his  present  condition.  The  Poet  appears  to  have  been  rather  incredu- 
lous of  the  rumour  in  question;  so  that  he  could  not  be  induced  to  accoiii- 
pany  the  Painter  in  his  quest,  till  that  strange  rumour  had  been  further 
strengthened  by  the  reports  about  the  Steward  and  the  Banditti  who  had 
tried  to  pass  themselves  off  as  "  poor  soldiers."  Of  course  a  period  of  some 
days  must  be  supposed  to  have  elapsed  since  Timon's  enrichment  of  the 
thieves  and  the  Steward. 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  279 

Pain.  Nothing  at  this  time  but  my  visitation  :  only  I  will 
promise  him  an  excellent  piece. 

Poet.  I  must  serve  him  so  too  ;  tell  him  of  an  intent  that's 
coming  toward  him. 

Pain.  Good  as  the  best.  Promising  is  the  very  air  o'  the 
time  ;  it  opens  the  eyes  of  expectation  :  performance  is  ever 
the  duller  for  his  act ;  and,  but  in  the  plainer  and  simpler 
kind  of  people,  the  deed  of  saying-  is  quite  out  of  use.  To 
promise  is  most  courtly  and  fashionable  :  performance  is  a 
kind  of  will  or  testament  which  argues  a  great  sickness  in 
his  judgment  that  makes  it.  [Timon  advances  a  little. 

Tim.  \^Aside.'\  Excellent  workman  !  thou  canst  not  paint 
a  man  so  bad  as  is  thyself. 

Poet.  I  am  thinking  what  I  shall  say  I  have  provided  for 
him  :  it  must  be  a  personating^  of  himself;  a  satire  against 
the  softness  of  prosperity,  with  a  discovery  of  the  infinite 
flatteries  that  follow  youth  and  opulency. 

Tim.  \_Aside.'\  Must  thou  needs  stand  for  a  villain  in 
thine  own  work?  wilt  thou  whip  thine  own  faults  in  other 
men?     Do  so,  I  have  gold  for  thee. 

Poet.    Nay,  let's  seek  him  : 
Then  do  we  sin  against  our  own  estate. 
When  we  may  profit  meet,  and  come  too  late. 

Pain.    True  ; 
When  the  day  serves,  before  black-curtain'd  night,' 
Find  what  thou  wanl'st  by  free  and  offer'd  light. 
Come. 

Tim.    [.'/>/>/<•.]    I'll  meet  you  at  tlie  turn.  — What  a  god's 

2  That  is,  the  doim^'  of  that  which  we  have  said  we  would  do. 

3  Not  a  pcrsonatini;  in  our  sense  of  the  word,  but  what  wc  should  call  a 
represenlini^.     The  theme  of  satire  is  to  be  Timon's  case,  not  \\\%  person. 

*  The  image  of  the  world  being  covered  or  curtained  witli  blackness  at 
night  seems  to  have  been  a  general  favourite.  So  in  /  Kins;  Henry  I'f.,  ii.  2  : 
"  Night  is  flc<l,  whost;  pitchy  mantle  over-veil'd  tlio  l''arth."  And  in  Macbeth, 
i.  5 :  "  Nor  Heaven  peep  through  the  blanket  of  the  dark." 


28o  TIMON    OP'    ATHENS.  ACT  V. 

gold,  that  he  is  worshipp'd  in  a  baser  temple  than    where 

swine  feed  !  — 

'Tis  thou  that  rigg'st  the  bark  and  plough'st  the  foam ; 

Settlest  admired  reverence  in  a  slave  : 

To  thee  be  worship  !  and  thy  saints  for  aye 

Be  crown'd  with  plagues,  that  thee  alone  obey  !  — 

Fit  I  meet  them.  \_Coincs fomiard. 

Poet.    Hail,  worthy  Timon  ! 

Pain.  Our  late  noble  master  ! 

Tim.    Have  I  once  lived  to  see  two  honest  men? 

Poet.    Sir,  having  often  of  your  open  bounty  tasted, 
Hearing  you  were  retired,  your  friends  fall'n  off. 
Whose  thankless  natures  —  O  abhorred  spirits  ! 
Not  all  the  whips  of  Heaven  are  large  enough  — 
What  !  to  you. 

Whose  star-like  nobleness  gave  life  and  influence 
To  their  whole  being  !     I  am  rapt,  and  cannot  cover 
The  monstrous  bulk  of  this  ingratitude 
With  any  size  of  words. 

Tim.    Let  it  go  naked,  men  may  see't  the  better : 
You  that  are  honest,  by  being  what  you  are. 
Make  them  best  seen  and  known. 

Pain.  He  and  myself 

Have  travell'd  in  the  great  shower  of  your  gifts, 
And  sweetly  felt  it, 

Tivi.  Ay,  you're  honest  men. 

Pain.    We're  hither  come  to  offer  you  our  service. 

Tim.    Most  honest  men  !     Why,  how  shall  I  requite  you? 
Can  you  eat  roots,  and  drink  cold  water?  no. 

Both.    What  we  can  do,  we'll  do,  to  do  you  service. 

Tim.    Ye're  honest  men  :  ye've  heard  that  I  have  gold ; 
I'm  sure  you  have  :   speak  truth  ;  ye're  honest  men. 

Pain.    So  it  is  said,  my  noble  lord  :   but  therefore 
Came  not  my  friend  nor  I. 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  28 1 

Tim.    Good  honest  men  !  —  Thou  draw'st  a  counterfeit  -^ 
Rest  in  all  Athens  :  thou'rt,  indeed,  the  best ; 
Thou  counterfeit'st  most  lively. 

Pain.  So  so,  my  lord. 

Tim.    E'en  so,  sir,  as  I  say.  —  And,  for  thy  fiction, 
Why,  thy  verse  swells  with  stuff  so  fine  and  smooth, 
That  thou  art  even  natural  ^  in  thine  art.  — 
But,  for  all  this,  my  honest-natured  friends, 
I  must  needs  say  you  have  a  little  fault : 
Marry,  'tis  not  monstrous  in  you  ;  neither  wish  I 
You  take  much  pains  to  mend. 

Both.  Beseech  your  Honour 

To  make  it  known  to  us. 

Tim.  You'll  take  it  ill. 

Both.    Most  thankfully,  my  lord. 

Tim.  Will  you,  indeed? 

Both.    Doubt  it  not,  worthy  lord. 

Tifii.   There's  ne'er  a  one  of  you  but  trusts  a  knave. 
That  mightily  deceives  you. 

Both.  Do  we,  my  lord  ? 

Tim.    Ay,  and  you  hear  him  cog,  see  him  dissemble, 
Know  his  gross  patchery,'''  love  him,  feed  him,  keep 
Him  in  your  bosom  :  yet  remain  assured 
That  he's  a  made-up  villain.^ 

Pain.    I  know  none  such,  my  lord. 

Poet.  Nor  I. 

Tim.    Took  you,  I  love  you  well ;   I'll  give  you  gold, 
Rid  me  these  villains  from  your  comjjanies  : 

'i  An  equivoque,  as  counterfeit  was  used  for  portrait.  See  vol.  iii.  page 
174,  note  24. 

•"'  Anollier  equivoque  ;  one  sense  of  natii\il  being /(>o/. 

"  Patclury  is  roguery.  So  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  ii.  3:  "  Here  is  surh 
patchery,  such  juggling,  such  knavery !  "  —  To  cog  is  to  cheat,  as  in  loading 
dice,  to  lie.    See  vol.  ii.  page  85,  note  24. 

*  Probably  meaning  a./inished  or  complete  villain. 


262  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  V. 

Hang  them  or  stab  them,  drown  them  in  a  draught,^ 
Confound  them  by  some  course,  and  come  to  me, 
I'll  give  you  gold  enough. 

Both.    Name  them,  my  lord,  let's  know  them. 
Tim.   You  that  way,  and  you  this,  not  two  in  company : 
Each  man  apart,  all  single  and  alone. 
Yet  an  arch-villain  keeps  him  company.  — 
\To  tJie  Pain.]   If,  where  thou  art,  two  villains  shall  not  be. 
Come  not  near  him.  —  \_To  the  Poet.]   If  thou  wouklst  not 

reside 
But  where  one  villain  is,  then  him  abandon.  — 
Hence,  pack  !  there's  gold ;  you  came  for  gold,  ye  slaves.  — 
\^To  the  Pain.]  You  have  done  work  for  me,  there's  payment : 

hence  !  — 
\To  the  Poet.]  You  are  an  alchemist,  make  gold  of  that. — 
Out,  rascal  dogs  !      \_Beats  and  drives  them  out,  ami  then  re- 
tires to  his  cave. 

E7iter  the  Steward  and  ttvo  Senators. 

Stew.    It  is  in  vain  that  you  would  speak  with  Timon ; 
For  he  is  set  so  only  to  himself. 
That  nothing  but  himself,  which  looks  like  man. 
Is  friendly  with  him. 

/  Sen.  Bring  us  to  his  cave  : 

It  is  our  pact'"  and  promise  to  th'  Athenians 
To  speak  with  Timon. 

2  Sen.  At  all  times  alike 

Men  are  not  still  the  same  :   'twas  time  and  griefs 
That  framed  him  thus  :  time,  with  his  fairer  hand, 
Offering  the  fortunes  of  his  former  days. 
The  former  man  may  make  him.     Bring  us  to  him, 

9  Draught  is  an  old  term  for  a  Jakes. 
l"*  Pad  is  bargain,  compact,  ox  pledge. 


SCENE  I.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  283 

And  chance  it  as  it  may. 

Stew.  Here  is  his  cave.  — 

Peace  and  content  be  here  1     Lord  Timon  !  Timon  ! 
Look  out,  and  speak  to  friends  :  th'  Athenians, 
By  two  of  their  most  reverend  Senate,  greet  thee  : 
Speak  to  them,  noble  Timon. 

Timon  comes  from  his  cave. 

Tim.    Thou  Sun,  that  comfort'st,  burn  !  —  Speak,  and  be 
hang'd  : 
For  each  true  word,  a  bHster  !  and  each  false 
Be  as  a  cauterizing  to  the  root  o'  the  tongue, 
Consuming  it  with  speaking  ! 

I  Sen.  Worthy  Timon,  — 

Tim.    Of  none  but  such  as  you,  and  you  of  Timon. 

/  Sen.   The  Senators  of  Athens  greet  thee,  Timon. 

Tim.  I  thank  them  ;  and  would  send  them  back  the  plague, 
Could  I  but  catch  it  for  them. 

1  Sen.  O,  forget 
What  we  are  sorry  for  ourselves  in  thee.^^ 
The  Senators  with  one  consent  of  love 
Entreat  thee  back  to  Athens ;  who  have  thought 
On  special  dignities,  which  vacant  lie 

For  thy  best  use  and  wearing. 

2  Sen.  They  confess 
Toward  thee  forgetfulness  too  general-gross  : 
And  now  the  public  body,  —  which  doth  seldom 
Play  the  recanter,  —  feeling  in  itself 

A  lack  of  Timon's  aid,  hath  sense  withal 
Of  its  own  f:xil,'''  restraining  aid  to  Timon  , 

1 '  In  thee  for  //;  reference  to  thee,  or  in  thy  case. 

12  I-'ail  ioT  /iiilure.     Repeatedly  so.  —  "  Nestrainint^'  aid  to  Timon  "  is  the 
same  as  withholding  au\/rom  Timon. 


284  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  V. 

And  send  forth  us,  to  make  their  sorrow'd  render,!^ 

Together  with  a  recompense  more  fruitful 

Than  their  offence  can  weigh  down  by  the  dram ; 

Ay,  even  such  heaps  and  sums  of  love  and  wealth 

As  shall  to  thee  blot  out  what  wrongs  were  theirs, 

And  write  in  thee  the  figures  of  their  love, 

Ever  to  read  them  thine. 

Tim.  You  witch  me  in  it ; 

Surprise  rne  to  the  very  brink  of  tears  : 
Lend  me  a  fool's  heart  and  a  woman's  eyes, 
And  I'll  beweep  these  comforts,  worthy  Senators. 

/  Sen.    Therefore,  so  please  thee  to  return  with  us. 
And  of  our  Athens  —  thine  and  ours  —  to  take 
The  captainship,  thou  shalt  be  met  with  thanks, 
Allow'd  with  absolute  power,^'*  and  thy  good  name 
Live  with  authority  :  so,  soon  we  shall  drive  back 
Of  Alcibiades  th'  approaches  wild  ; 
Who,  like  a  boar  too  savage,  doth  root  up 
His  country's  peace. 

2  Sen.  And  shakes  his  threatening  sword 

Against  the  walls  of  Athens. 

/  Sen.  Therefore,  Timon,  — 

Tim.    Well,  sir,  I  will ;  therefore,  I  will,  sir  ;  thus  : 
If  Alcibiades  kill  my  countrymen. 
Let  Alcibiades  know  this  of  Timon, 
That  Timon  cares  not.     But,  if  he  sack  fair  Athens, 
And  take  our  goodly  aged  men  by  th'  beards, 
Giving  our  holy  virgins  to  the  stain 
Of  contumelious,  beastly,  mad-brain 'd  war, 

13  Render  is  acknowledgement  or  confession.  So  in  Cymbeline,  iv.  4 : 
"  May  drive  us  to  a  render  wliere  we  liave  lived." 

I''  "  Alloiu'd  with  absolute  power  "  means,  apparently,  approved  or  con- 
firmed in  the  possession  of  absolute  power.  Such  was  the  more  common 
meaning  of  the  verb  to  allow.    See  page  72,  note  27. 


SCENE  1.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  285 

Then  let  him  know,  —  and  tell  him  Timon  speaks  it 

In  pity  of  our  aged  and  our  youth,  — 

I  cannot  choose  but  tell  him  that  I  care  not. 

And  let  him  take't  at  worst ;  for  their  knives  care  not, 

While  you  have  throats  to  answer  :  '■'  for  myself, 

There's  not  a  whittle  ^^  in  th'  unruly  camp, 

But  I  do  prize  it  in  my  love  before 

The  reverend'st  throat  in  Athens.     So  I  leave  you 

To  the  protection  of  the  prosperous  ^ "  gods. 

As  thieves  to  keepers. 

Sfe7v.  Stay  not,  all's  in  vain. 

Tim.    \\\\)',  I  was  writing  of  m}-  epitaph  ; 
It  will  be  seen  to-morrow  :   my  long  sickness 
Of  health  and  living  now  begins  to  mend, 
And  nothing  brings  me  all  things.     Go,  live  still ; 
Be  Alcibiades  your  plague,  you  his, 
And  last  so  long  enough  ! 

/  Sen.  We  speak  in  vain. 

Ti/?i.    But  yet  I  love  my  country  ;  and  am  not 
One  that  rejoices  in  the  common  wreck, 
As  common  bruit  >**  doth  put  it. 

T  Sen.  'I'hat's  well  spoke. 

Tim.    Commend  me  to  my  loving  countrymen,  — 

/  Sen.  These  words  become  your  lips  as  they  pass  thorough 
them. 

2  Sen.    And  enter  in  our  ears  like  great  triumphers 
Tn  their  api)lauding  gates. 

Tim.  Commend  me  to  them  ; 


16  The  meaning  seems  to  be,  "do  not  fear  the  soldiers"  knives,  for  these 
can  do  nothing  l>uf  good  to  you  so  long  as  you  have  throats  to  cut." 

"■'  .\  whittle  is  a  clasp-knife  ;  what  we  call  a  pocket-knife. 

'"  Prosperous  for  propitious,  and  used  ironically.  "The  gods,  who  will 
be  kind  to  you  only  in  keeping  you  for  punishment." 

1'  liruit  is  rumour  or  report ;  any  thing  noised  abroad. 


286  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  V. 

And  tell  them  that,  to  ease  them  of  their  griefs, 

Their  fears  of  hostile  strokes,  their  aches,i^  losses, 

Their  pangs  of  love,  with  other  incident  throes 

That  nature's  fragile  vessel  doth  sustain 

In  life's  uncertain  voyage,  that  I  will 

Some  kindness  do  them  :  I'll  teach  them  to  prevent 

Wild  Alcibiades'  wrath. 

J  Sen.    I  like  this  well :  he  will  return  again. 

Tim.    I  have  a  tree,  which  grows  here  in  my  close. 
That  mine  own  use  invites  me  to  cut  down. 
And  shortly  must  I  fell  it :   tell  my  friends, 
Tell  Athens,  in  the  sequence  of  degree, 
From  high  to  low  throughout,  that  whoso  please 
To  stop  affliction,  let  him  take  his  haste,^*^ 
Come  hither,  ere  my  tree  hath  felt  the  axe. 
And  hang  himself.     I  pray  you,  do  my  greeting. 

Stezv.    Trouble  him  no  further ;    thus  you  still  shall  find 
him. 

Tim.    Come  not  to  me  again  :  but  say  to  Athens, 
Timon  hath  made  his  everlasting  mansion 
Upon  the  beached  verge  of  the  salt  flood  ; 
Whom  once  a  day  with  his  embossed  -^  froth 
The  turbulent  surge  shall  cover  :  thither  come. 
And  let  my  grave-stone  be  your  oracle.  — 
Lips,  let  your  words  go  by,  and  language  end  : 
What  is  amiss,  plague  and  infection  mend  ! 
Graves  only  be  men's  works,  and  death  their  gain  ! 

19  Ackes,  again,  as  a  dissyllable.     See  page  206,  note  31. 

2"  Take  his  haste  sounds  rather  harsh  to  us,  but  is  the  same  form  of 
speech  as  take  his  time,  which  we  use  in  the  opposite  sense. 

21  Embossed  is,  properly,  blown  up  in  bubbles,  boss  and  bubble  liaving 
formerly  the  same  meaning.  See  Ant.  and  Cleo.,  iv.  13,  note  i. —  This  fine 
passage  is  founded  on  one  in  The  Palace  of  Pleasure  :  "  By  his  last  will  he 
ordained  himselfe  to  be  interred  upon  the  sea-shore,  that  the  waves  and 
surges  might  beate  and  vexe  his  dead  carcas." 


SCENE  II.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  287 

Sun,  hide  thy  beams  !  'rimoa  hath  done  his  reign. 

\_Retircs  to  his  cave. 

1  Sen.    His  discontents  are  unremovably 
Coupled  to  nature. 

2  Sen.    Our  hope  in  him  is  dead  :  let  us  return, 
And  strain  what  other  means  is  left  unto  us 

In  our  dear-"-  peril. 

I  Sen.  It  requires  swift  foot.  \_Exeiint. 

Scene  II. — Before  the  Walls  of  Athens. 
Enter  tivo  Senators  and  a  Messenger. 

1  Sen.    Thou'st  painfully  discover'd  :   are  his  files 
As  full  as  thy  report  ? 

Mess.  I've  spoke  the  least :  * 

Besides,  his  expedition  promises 
Present  approach. 

2  Sen.    We  stand  much  hazard,  if  they  bring  not  Tinion. 
Mess.    I  met  a  courier,  one  mine  ancient  friend  ; 

When,  though  in  general  part '  we  were  opposed. 

Yet  our  old  love  had  a  particular  force. 

And  made  us  speak  like  friends  :  this  inah  was  riding 

From  Alcibiades  to  Timon's  cave, 

With  letters  of  entreaty,  which  imported 

His  fellowship  i'  the  cause  against  your  city, 

In  part  for  his  sake  moved. 

/  Sen.  Here  come  our  brothers. 

Enter  Senators //w-'/  Timon. 

J  Seti.    No  talk  of  Timon,  nolliing  of  him  ex])ert. 

2*  Dear,  in  old  English,  often  has  thu  sense  of  dire,  or  nearly  that.     See 
vol.  V.  page  227,  note  6. 

1  In  general  part  i^\'f(\iin\\y  \rn::\.ns  in  l/ie  />nl>lic  cause. 


288  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  v. 

The  enemies'  drum  is  heard,  and  fearful  scouring 

Doth  choke  the  air  with  dust :   in,  and  prepare  : 

Ours  is  the  fall,  I  fear;  our  foes  the  snare.  \_Exeunt. 

*SCENE    III.  —  The    Woods.     Timon's    Cave,    and   a    rude 
*Toinb  seen. 

*  Enter  a  Messenger,  seeking  Timon. 

*Mess.    By  all  description  this  should  be  the  place. 
*Who's  here?  speak,  ho  !     No  answer?  —  What  is  this? 
*Timon  is  dead,  who  hath  outstretch'd  his  span  : 
*Some  beast  rear'd  this  ;  here  does  not  live  a  man.- 
*Dead,  sure  ;  and  this  his  grave.     What's  on  this  tomb 
*I  cannot  read  ;  the  character  I'll  take  with  wax  : 
*Our  captain  hath  in  every  figure  skill, 
*An  aged  interpreter,  though  young  in  days. 
*Before  proud  Athens  he's  set  down  by  this, 
*Whose  fall  the  mark  of  his  ambition  is.  \^Extt. 

Scene  IV.  —  Before  /he  lVa//s  of  Athens. 

Trumpets  soi^nd.     Enter  Alcibiades  a7id  Forces. 

Akib.    Sound  to  this  coward  and  lascivious  town 
Our  terrible  approach.  —  [^  parley  sounded. 

Enter  Senators  on  the  walls. 

Till  now  you  have  gone  on,  and  fill'd  the  time 

2  Dvce,  I  think,  rightly  interprets  this  passage  :  '"By  all  description  this 
should  be  the  place  where  I  at?:  directed  to  find  Titnon. —  Who  is  here? 
speak,  ho  1  No  answer  ?  —  What  is  this  ?  a  sepulchral  mound  of  earth  J 
Then  Timon  is  dead,  who  has  outstretched  his  span :  and  it  would  almost 
seem  that  some  beast  reared  this  mound,  for  here  does  not  live  a  man /c? 
have  done  so.  Yes,  he  is  dead,  sure,  and  this  his  grave,'  &c."  —  "  Outstretch'd 
his  span  "  means  lived  out,  or  lived  through,  his  span,  that  is,  his  brief  term 
of  life. 


SCENE  IV.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  289 

With  all  licentious  measure,  making  your  wills 

The  scope  of  justice ;  till  now,  myself,  and  such 

As  slept  within  tlie  shadow  of  your  power. 

Have  wander' d  with  our  traversed  arms,i  and  breathed 

Our  sufferance  vainly  :  now  the  time  is  flush,- 

When  crouching  marrow,"^  in  the  bearer  strong, 

Cries,  of  itself.  No  more  :  now  breathless  wrong 

Shall  sit  and  pant  in  your  great  chairs  of  ease  ; 

And  pursy  insolence  shall  break  his  wind 

With  fear  and  horrid  ^  flight. 

1  Sen.  Noble  and  young, 
When  thy  first  griefs  were  but  a  mere  conceit, 
Ere  thou  hadst  power,  or  we  had  cause  of  fear. 
We  sent  to  thee  ;  to  give  thy  rages  balm. 

To  wipe  out  our  ingratitudes  with  loves 
Above  their  quantity. 

2  Sen.  .  So  did  we  woo 
Transformed  Timon  to  our  city's  love 

Hy  humble  message  and  by  promised  'mends  : 
W^e  were  not  all  unkind,  nor  all  deserve 
The  common  stroke  of  war. 

/  Sen.  These  walls  of  ours 

Were  not  erected  by  their  hands  from  whom 
You  have  received  your  griefs  ;  nor  are  they  such 
That  these  great  towers,  trophies,  and  schools  should  fall 
I'^or  private  faults  in  them. 

2  Sen.  N(jr  arc  they  living 


1  Tliat  is,  witli  the  arms  crosxd,  or  folded,  over  the  breast.  "  His  arms 
in  this  itid  knot"  is  the  ptirasc  used  in  Tiic  I'empest,  i.  2. 

'^  Flush  is  ripe,  or  come  to  perfection  ;  perhaps  from  the  ruddy  colour  of 
ripened  fruits. 

"  ('rouchini;  marrow  means,  apparently,  internal  vigour  that  lias  hitherto 
succumbed  Jo  injury  and  wrong.     See  pagt;  263,  note  32. 

•♦  Horrid  in  a  passive  sense,  —  horrified ;  :i  fliglit  caused  by  dread. 


290  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  ACT  V. 

Who  were  the  motives  that  you  first  went  out  ;^ 

Shame,  that  they  wanted  cunning,  in  excess, 

Hath  broke  their  hearts.*^     March,  noble  lord, 

Into  our  city  with  thy  banners  spread  : 

By  decimation,  and  a  tithed  death,  — 

If  thy  revenges  hunger  for  that  food, 

Which  nature  loathes,  —  take  thou  the  destined  tenth  ; 

And  by  the  hazard  of  the  spotted  die 

Let  die  the  spotted. 

1  Sen.  All  have  not  offended ; 
For  those  that  were,  it  is  not  square '''  to  take. 
On  those  that  are,  revenges  :  crimes,  like  lands. 
Are  not  inherited.     Then,  dear  countryman. 
Bring  in  thy  ranks,  but  leave  without  thy  rage  : 
Spare  thy  Athenian  cradle,  and  those  kin 
Which,  in  the  bluster  of  thy  wrath,  must  fall 
With  those  that  have  offended  :  like  a  shepherd, 
Approach  the  fold,  and  cull  th'  infected  forth. 
But  kill  not  all  together. 

2  Sen.  What  thou  wilt. 
Thou  rather  shalt  enforce  it  with  thy  smile 
Than  hew't  out  with  thy  sword. 

1  Sen.  Set  but  thy  foot 
Against  our  rampired  gates,  and  they  shall  ope  ; 
So  thou  wilt  send  thy  gentle  heart  before. 

To  say  thou'lt  enter  friendly. 

2  Sen.  Throw  thy  glove, 
Or  any  token  of  thine  honour  else. 

That  ihou  wilt  use  the  wars  as  thy  redress, 

s  Meaning  "  those  who  were  ihe^rst  movers  for  your  banishment."  The 
Poet  has  7iiotive  repeatedly  so. 

6  Cunning-  in  its  old  sense  of  judgment  or  sagacity.  "  Excessive  shame 
for  their  blundering  folly  in  banishing  you  hath  broken  their  hearts." 

"^  It  is  not  right,  not  Just,  or  according  to  rule. 


SCENE  IV.  TIMON    OF    ATHENS.  29 1 

And  not  as  our  confusion,  all  thy  powers 
Shall  make  their  harbour  in  our  town,  till  we 
Have  seal'd  thy  full  desire. 

Alcib,  Then  there's  my  glove ; 

Descend,  and  open  your  uncharged  ports.^ 
Those  enemies  of  Timon's,  and  mine  own, 
Whom  you  yourselves  shall  set  out  for  rcjjroof, 
Fall,  and  no  more  :  and  —  to  atone  ^  your  fears 
With  my  more  noble  meaning- — ^  not  a  man 
Shall  pass  his  cjuarter,  or  offend  the  stream 
Of  regular  justice  in  your  city's  bounds, 
But  shall  be  render'd  to  your  public  laws 
At  heaviest  answer. 

Senators.  'Tis  most  nobly  spoken. 

Alcib.    Descend,  and  keep  your  words. 

\_The  Senators  descend,  and  open  the  gates. 

Enter  the  Messenger. 

Mess.    My  noble  general,  Timon  is  dead ; 
lOntomb'd  upon  the  very  hem  o'  the  sea ; 
And  on  his  grave-stone  this  insculpture,  which 
With  wax  I  brought  away,  whose  soft  imjjrcssion 
Interprets  for  my  poorer  ignorance.'" 

Alcib.    [Reads.] 
Here  ties  a  wretched  corse,  of  wretched  soul  bereft : 
Seek  not  my  name :  a  plague  consume  you  7oicked caitiffs  left  /' ' 
—  These  well  express  in  thee  thy  latter  spirits. 

*  Uncharged  ports  is  ttnassaultcd  gates.     "><:>  fort  is  often  used. 

»  To  atone  was  commonly  used  for  to  reconcile.  Sec  vol.  x.  page  142, 
note  46. 

'"  That  is,  "  for  my  too  poor  ij^norance."  So  the  Poet  repeatedly  uses 
comparatives,  atlopting  a  well-known  Latin  idiom.     See  page  247,  note  3. 

'1  This  is  taken  almost  literally  from  I'lutarch,  Life  of  .Intonius,  as 
translated  by  North.    Sec  preface,  page  191. 


292 


TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 


Though  thou  abhorr'dst  in  us  our  human  griefs, 

Scorn'dst  our  brain's  flow,  and  those  our  droplets  which 

From  niggard  nature  fall,  yet  rich  conceit  i- 

Taught  thee  to  make  vast  Neptune  weep  for  aye 

On  thy  low  grave  o'er  faults  forgiven.      Dead 

Is  noble  Timon  ;  of  whose  memory 

Hereafter  more.  —  Bring  me  into  your  city. 

And  I  will  use  the  olive  with  my  sword  ; 

Make  war  breed  peace  ;  make  peace  stint  ^^  war  ;  make  each 

Prescribe  to  other,  as  each  other's  leech.  — 

Let  our  drums  strike.  S^Exeunt. 

12  Conceit,  as  usual,  for  conception  or  imagination. 

13  To  stint  is  to  stop.  —  Leech,  in  the  next  line,  is  an  old  word  for  physi- 
cian. 


CRITICAL    NOTES. 


Act  I.,  Scene  i. 

I 'age  196.    Our  poesy  is  as  a  gum,  ivhich  oozes 

From  whence  '(is  nourished.  —  The  original  reads  "as  a  Gowne^ 
which  uses."     The  first  was  corrected  by  Pope  ;   the  other,  by  Johnson. 

P.  196.  Our  gentle  Jlaine 

Provokes  itself,  and,  like  the  current,  Jlies 

Each  hound  it  chafes.  —  The  original  has  chases  instead  of 
chafes.  The  misprint  was  so  easy,  that  the  correction  seems  hardly 
worth  noting.     Corrected  by  Theobald. 

P.  197.  Pain.    How  this  lord  is  follo'u' d ! 

Poet.  The  Senators  of  Athens.  Happy  man  !  —  The  original 
has  "hapi)y  vten,"  which  is  still  retained  by  some  editors.  But  tlie  con- 
text shows  i)lainly  that  the  reference  is  to  Timon,  not  to  the  Senators. 
Corrected  by  Theobald. 

P.  198.  My  free  drift 

Halts  7tot particularly,  hut  moves  itself 

In  a  wide  sea  of  wax.  —  Collier's  second  folio  substitutes  verse 
fur  wax  ;  and  the  latter  sounds  so  odd  that  I  cannot  help  wishing  we 
could  fairly  get  rid  of  it.  As  wax  was  commonly  written  7vaxe,  it  might 
easily  be  misprinted  for  verse.  On  the  other  hand,  the  speaker  seems 
to  have  in  view  rather  the  matter  than  the  form  or  manner  of  his  work- 
manship: so  that  the  sense  of  life  or  thought  would  be  more  fitting. 
And  perhaps,  withal,  the  author  meant  to  throw  a  dash  of  affectation 
into  the  poetaster's  language.  .See  foot-note  11. —  In  the  second  line 
after,  "  But  flies  an  eagle  flight,"  perhaps,  as  Keightley  suggests,  we 
ought  ti)  read  "  IP'hich  flics,"  &c.      See,  however,  f)ot-nott'  12. 


294  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

P.  199.     Whose  present  grace  to  present  slaves  and  servants 

Translates  his  rivals.  —  Walker  is  quite  sure  that  we  ought  to 
read  "peasant  slaves  and  servants."  But  I  take  the  meaning  to  be, 
"  Whose  present  grace  presently"  that  is,  immediately,  "  translates  his 
rivals  to  slaves  and  servants."  So  that  peasant  would  give  a  wrong 
sense. 

P.  199.  ^Tis  conceived  to  th'  scope. —  The  original  has  "  conceiv'd 
to  scope."  Heath  observes,  justly,  I  think,  that  "  this  reading  seems  to 
be  neither  sense  nor  English."  The  correction  is  Theobald's.  See 
foot-note  17. 

P.  200.  Eve7t  on  their  knees  and  hands  let  him  slip  down.  —  The 
original  has  ha7id  for  hands,  and  sit  for  slip.  The  first  was  corrected 
in  the  second  folio  ;   the  other  by  Rowe. 

P.  200.     That  shall  demonstrate  these  quick  hloivs  a/ Fortune 

More  pregnantly  than  7oords.  —  So  the  second  folio.  The  first 
has  "  blowes  of  Fortunes." 

P.  200.  Yet  you  do  well 

To  show  Lord  Timon  that  men's  eyes  have  seen 
The  foot  above  the  head.  —  So  Theobald.  The  original  has 
meane  instead  of  tnen's.  I  can  gather  no  fitting  sense  from  mean  here. 
The  word,  as  Heath  notes,  "  certainly  implies  a  pretty  severe  reflection 
of  the  painter  upon  the  poet  ;  a  reflection  which,  from  what  had  hith- 
erto passed  between  them,  doth  not  seem  likely  to  have  been  intended." 

P.  200.    Your  honourable  letter  he  desires 

To  those  have  shut  him  up;  which  failing  him 
Periods  his  comfort.  —  The  original  lacks  the  second  him,  which 
is  needful  alike  to  sense  and  verse.     The  second  folio  has  "  failing  to 
him." 

P.  200.    /  am  not  of  that  feather  to  shake  off 

My  friend  7vhen  he  mo?<i  needs /;^<'. — The  original  has  "when 
he  must  neede  me."     Corrected  in  the  third  folio. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  295 

P.  201.   Tim.  The  man  is  honest. 

Old  Ath.  Therefore  he  will  be  Timon's  ; 
His  honesty  rcioards  him  in  itself;  &c.  — The  original  reads 
"Therefore  he  will  be  Timon"  ;  which  is  commonly  printed  "There- 
fore he  will  be,  Timon,"  and  explained  "  he  will  contintie  to  be  honest." 
I  think  the  logic  of  the  passage  is  decidedly  against  that  explanation. 
Staunton  notes  as  follows:  "We  should  perhaps  read,  'Therefore  he 
will  be  Timon's,'  &c.,  that  is,  he  will  continue  to  be  in  the  service  of  so 
noble  a  master,  and  thus  his  virtue  will  reward  itself:  or  it  is  possible 
the  words,  '  Therefore  he  will  be,'  originally  formed  part  of  Timon's 
speech,  and  the  dialogue  have  run  thus : 

Titn.   The  man  is  honest,  therefore  he  will  be  — 
Old  Ath.  Timon, 

His  honesty  rewards  him  in  itself. 

In  a  text  so  lamentably  imperfect  as  that  of  the  present  play,  a  more 
than  ordinary  license  of  conjecture  is  permissible."  But  the  reading 
here  given  can  hardly  be  said  to  involve  "  a  more  than  ordinary 
license  "  ;  and  it  seems  to  me  to  yield  a  very  apposite  sense. 

P.  204.  We'll  bear  it,  ivith  your  lordship.  —  The  original  lacks  it, 
which  is  fairly  required  both  for  the  sense  and  for  the  verse.  Inserted 
by  Pope. 

P.  205.  That  I  had  so  wanted  wit  to  be  a  lord.  —  The  original  reads 
"  That  I  had  7to  angry  wit  to  be  a  Lord  "  ;  which  seems  to  me  abso- 
lutely meaningless.  Warburton  reads  "That  I  had  so  hungry  a  wit  to 
be  a  lord"  ;  Mason,  "That  I  had  an  angry  7vish  to  be  a  lord  "  ;  Heath, 
"  That  I  had  so  wron^d  my  wit  to  be  a  lord  "  ;  Collier's  second  folio, 
"That  I  had  so  hungry  a  wish  to  be  a  lord";  Singer's  second 
folio,  "That  I  had  an  empty  wit  to  l)e  a  lord."  I  cannot  say  that  any 
•  if  these,  except,  perhaps.  Heath's,  appears  to  me  much  improvement  on 
the  original.  The  change  made  in  the  text  is  indeed  something  bold, 
but  I  am  tolerably  sure  that  it  conveys  at  least  a  fitting  sense.  See  foot- 
note 30. 

P.  206.     You  ynust  needs  dine  with  me.  —  Go  not  you  hence 
Till  f  have  thank\i you. —  When  our  dinner's  done, 
Sho-iU  me  this  piece.  —  The  original  lacks  our  ;  and  the  second 
folio  fills  up  the  verse  by  printing  "and  when  dinner's  done."     Dyce 
prints  "Till  I  have  thank'd  you;  — you,  when  dinner's  done." 


296 


TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 


P.  206.    So,  so,  there  !  — 

Achh  contract  and  starve  yoztr  supple  joints  !  &c.  —  The  origi- 
nal gives  this  speech  as  prose,  and  prints  "  So,  so  ;  their  Aches  con- 
tract," &c.     Corrected  by  Capell. 

P.  207.  The  more  accursid  thou  that  still  omitt^st  it.  -r—  So  Hanmer 
and  Collier's  second  folio.     The  old  text  has  f/iost  instead  of  more. 

P.  208.    2  Lord.  Long  may  he  live 

In's  fortunes  !     Shall  lue  in  ? 

I  Lord.  77/  keep  you    company.  —  The 

original  has  "/«  Fortunes,"  and  prints  the  last  speech  as  part  of  the 
preceding.  Such  contractions  as  ins  for  in  his  are  very  frequent.  Mr. 
P.  A.  Daniel  suggests  "In'a  fortune." 

Act  I.,  Scene  2. 

P.  209.  But  yond  man  is  ever  angry.  —  The  original  has  verie  in- 
stead of  ever  ;  an  obvious  error,  which  was  corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  209.  Let  me  not  stay,  at  thine  apperil,  Timon.  — The  old  text  is 
without  not.  Both  sense  and  metre  require  it.  The  speaker  says,  a 
little  before,  "  I  come  to  have  thee  thrust  me  out  of  doors." 

P.  209.  And  all  the  madness  is,  he  cheers  them  up  to"t. — So  War- 
burton  and  Walker.     The  original  has  "  cheers  them  up  too." 

P.  209.  The  fellow  that  sits  next  him  noio,  parts  bread  with  him,  and 
pledges  the  breath  of  him  in  a  divided  draught,  is  the  readiest  man  to 
kill  him. —  So  Pope.  The  old  text  omits  and  hQ^oxe.  pledges.  The 
syntax  seems  to  require  it. 

P.  211.  IVotcld  all  those  flatterers  were  thine  enemies,  then,  that  thou 
mightst  kill  ^em. — -The  original  repeats  then,  thus:  "that  then  thou 
mightst  kill  'em."     Doubtless  the  repetition  was  by  mistake. 

P.  211.  Why  have  you  not  that  charitable  title  from  thousands,  did 
you  not  chiefly  belong  to  my  heart?  —  The  original  is  without  not  in  the 
first  of  these  clauses.  I  think  the  sense  clearly  requires  it ;  and  so 
thought  Heath.     See  foot-note  12. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  297 

P.  211.  O  joy,  een  made  amay  ere'i  can  lie  born!  —  The  old  text 
\\7iAJoys  ;  a  palpable  error,  which  the  context  rectifies. 

P.  212.    Hail  to  the  worthy  Titnon,  and  to  all 

That  0/  his  bounties  taste! — The  original  prints  this  passage 
thus,  exactly :  "  Haile  to  thee  worthy  Titnon  and  to  all,"  &c.  We  have 
many  instances  of  thee  and  the  misprinted  for  each  other.  The  correc- 
tion is  Ilanmer's. 

P.  212.  The  five  best  senses 

Acknowledge  thee  their  patron  ;  and  cotne  freely 
To  gratulatc  thy  plenteous  bosom  :  th'  ear. 
Taste,  touch,  and  smeW,  pleased /ro/n  thy  table  rise  ; 
These  only  come  now  but  to  feast  thine  eyes. — The  original  has 
this  passage  even  more  than  usually  corrupt.    Instead  of  "  tK  ear.  Taste, 
touch,  and  smell,"  we  there  have  merely  "There  tast,  touch  all."     The 
correction,  so  far  as  regards  tV  ear  and  smell,  is  Warburton's,  and  is 
among  the  happiest.     I  print  with  the  Cambridge  Editors,  who  insert 
and  hcUiXQ  smell,  and  thus  complete  the  metre  of  the  passage.     In  the 
last  line,  also,  the  original  has  They  instead  of  These,  and  thus  defeats 
the  proper  sense  of  the  line.     Th||pbald  has  These. 

P.  213.    They're  welcome  all ;  let  Vw  have  kind  admittance :  — 

Music,  make  known  their  tvelcome  ! —  So  Capell.  The  original 
has  simply  "  make  their  welcome." 

P.  213.  I  Lord.  You  see,  my  lord,  liow  ample  you^re  beloved.  —  The 
original  prefixes  "Luc."  to  this  speech.  .Vs  neither  Lucius  nor  Lucul- 
lus  is  named  among  the  pers<ins  present  in  this  scene,  the  prefix  /  Lord. 
was  substituted  by  Capell,  —  rightly  eiunigh,  no  doubt. 

P.  213.     IVho  dies,  that  bears  not  one  spurn  to  their  graves 
Of  their  friends'  gift  ?  —  Timon,  were  I  as  thou, 
/  should  fear,  those  that  dance  before  me  now 
JFould  one  day  stamp  upon  me.  —  In  the  second  of  these  lines, 
the  words  Timon   ivere  L  as  thou,  are  wanting  in  the  old  text.     Walker 
pr(>i)ose<l  the  insertion  of  them,  or  something  like  them.     As  the  sense 
is  manifestly  incomplete  without   them,  and  as  the  passage  was  aj^iiar- 
cntly  meant  t<j  consist  of  three  rhyming  couplets,  I  hardly  fee!  at  libi-rly 
to  exclude   the   insertion,  bold  as  it  is.     Perhaps  I  ought  to  remark 


298  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

again,  that  this  part  of  the  play  is  most  assuredly  not  Shakespeare's ; 
so  that  the  workmanship  has  not  the  sacredness  that  rightly  belongs  to 
his  admitted  text. 

P.  214.     Vozt've  added  zuorth  unto^t  a)id\\\Q\y  lustre, 

And  entertain'' d  me  -with  mine  oivn  device.  —  So  the  second 
folio.     The  original  wants  lively. 

P.  214.      I  Lady.    My  lord,  yon  take  ics  even  at  the  best.  —  The  origi- 
nal prefixes  "/  Lord."  to  this  speech.     Evidently  wrong. 

P.  214.    Tim.    Steward, — 

Stew.   My  lord? 

Tim.    The  little  casket  bring  me  hither. 

Stew.  Yes,  my  lord.  —  Here,  and  throughout  this  scene,  in  the 
folio  the  Steward  is  called  Flavins  both  in  one  speech  and  in  the 
prefixes.  But  afterwards,  in  ii.  2,  Flavins  is  used  as  the  name  of  one 
of  Timon's  servants  who  is  not  the  Steward  ;  for  Timon,  while  the 
Steward  is  with  him  on  the  stage,  calls  out,  "  Within  there  !  Flavins ! 
Servilius  !  "  whereupon  Flavius  enters,  with  two  other  servants.  And  in 
all  the  Shakespeare  portions  of  the  aky  the  Steward  is  uniformly  desig- 
nated by  the  name  of  his  office,  both  in  the  speeches  and  the  prefixes. 
See  the  preface,  page  188.  Modern  editions,  generally,  if  not  always, 
change  the  name  to  Flavius  all  through  the  Shakespeare  portions,  so 
as  to  make  them  agree  with  the  Anonymous  portions.  I  am  as  clear  as 
I  care  to  be,  that  the  assimilation  should  run  the  other  way,  and  print 
accordingly.  It  may  be  worth  noting  that,  even  in  the  Anonymou' 
portions,  Flavius  occurs  but  once  in  the  text  proper  as  the  Steward's 
name.  So  that  I  really  make  less  of  change  upon  the  original  copy 
than  those  do  who  substitute  Flavius  for  Steward  wherever  the  latter 
occurs  in  the  prefixes  and  stage-directions. 

P.  214.  There  is  no  crossing  him  in  this  his  htunour  ; 
Else  I  should  tell  him.,  —  well,  i' faith,  I  should,  — 
When  alVs  spent,  he'd  be  crossed  then,  an  he  cotdd.  —  The  origi- 
nal gives  the  first  of  these  lines  thus :  "There  is  no  crossing  him  in^s 
humor."  Ritson  says,  "Read  'There  is  no  crossing  him  in  this  his 
humour.' "  The  other  lines  present  a  somewhat  troublesome  reading. 
I  keep  the  punctuation  commonly  received,  but  strongly  suspect  we 
ought  to  punctuate  after  the  original,  thus : 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  299 

Else  I  should  tell  him  well,  i'faith  I  should; 
When  all's  spent,  he'd  be  cross'd  then,  an  he  could. 

Perhaps  a  colon  after  should  were  better  ;  and  so  indeed  Staunton  has 
it.  With  this  pointing,  " /t'//  him  well"  may  mean  tell  him  plainly,  or 
fully,  how  he  stands.  Staunton,  however,  thinks  that  tell  is  rate,  or 
call  to  account.  Either  of  these  senses  may  indeed  come  rather  hard 
from  tell  him  luell ;  but  then,  on  the  other  hand,  I  do  not  well  see  the 
logic  of  the  passage  as  commonly  printed. 

P.  216.    That  what  he  speaks  is  all  in  debt ;  he  owes 
For  every  word :  he  is  so  kind,  he  now 
Pays  interest  for' t ;  his  land's  put  to  their  books. 
IVell,  would  I  were  put  gently  out  of  office.  —  In  the  second  of 
these  lines,  the  original  reads  "he  is  so  kinde, ///(?/  he  now."     Here 
that  spoils  the  metre  without  really  helping  the  sense.     In  the  last  line, 
again,  the  old  te.xt  transposes  gently  and  put. 

V.  2i6.    I -weigh  my  friend's  affection  -vith  tnine  own  ; 

I  tell  you  true.  —  I'll  call  to  you.  —  The  original  reads  "lie  tell 
you  true.  He  call  to  you."  The  common  text  has  /'//  in  both  places; 
which,  I  think,  gives  a  wrong  sense. 

1 '.  217.  The  best  of  happiness. 

Honour,  and  fortune,  keep  with  you.  Lord  Timon  I  —  So 
Walker.     The  original  has  Fortunes  instead  o{ fortune. 

V.  217.  Thou  givest  so  long,  Tim  on,  I  fear  me  thou  wilt  give  away 
thyself  in  i)erson  shortly.  —  Instead  of  person,  the  old  text  has  paper, 
for  which  Warburton  proposed  to  substitute  proper.  "  Give  away  thy- 
self in  paper"  must  mean  ruin  thyself  by  giving  securities ;  which 
seems  quite  too  tame  for  the  occasion. 

Act  II.,  ScKNF.  i. 

P.  218.    If  I  would  sell  my  horse,  and  buy  ten  more 
lietlcr  than  he,  why,  give  my  horse  to  Timon, 
Ask  nothing,  give  it  him,  it  foals  me  straight 
Ten  able  horses :  no  grim  porter  at  his  gate  ; 
Hut  rather  one  that  smiles,  iVc.  —  In  the  lirst  of  these  lines,  the 
original  has  twenty  instead  of  ten,  and,  in  the  fourth,  And  insteail  of 


300  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

Ten.  The  first  was  corrected  by  Pope,  the  other  by  Theobald.  Walker 
says,  '■'■Ten  in  both  places.  '  lo  more.'  was  mistaken  for  '20  more.'" 
Again  in  the  fourth  line,  grim  is  lacking  in  the  old  text.  The  context 
clearly  requires  that  or  something  equivalent.    Staunton  proposed  grim. 

P.  218.  It  cannot  hold ;  no  reason 

Can  found  his  state  in  safety.  —  The  original  reads  "  Can  sound 
his  state,"  which  Dyce  sets  down  as  "  an  obvious  error."  But  I  am  not 
so  sure  of  that ;  as  it  seems  to  me  that  "  sound  his  state  in  safety  "  may 
mean  declare  his  state  to  be  in  safety.  Shakespeare  uses  sonnd  in  that 
sense,  or  nearly  that.  On  the  other  hand,  we  have  repeated  instances 
of  sound  misprinted  for  found.     See  foot-note  2. 

P.  219.  And  the  cap 

Plays  in  the  right  hand,  thus  :  but  tell  him,  sirrah. 
My  uses  cry  to  me,  &c.  —  So  the  second  folio.    The  first  is  with- 
out sirrah. 

P.  219.    Caph.    I  go,  sir. 

Sen.  Take  the  bonds  along  with  you. 

And  have  the  dates  ift  compt.  —  In  the  original,  the  Senator  re- 
peats the  words  of  Caphis  interrogatively,  thus:  "I  go  sir?"  As  the 
affirmative  particle  ay  was  often  written  /,  Mason  thought  we  ought  to 
read  "Ay,  go,  sir."  But  I  can  see  no  fitness,  or  meaning  even,  in  the 
repetition,  however  construed  ;  and  so  have  no  doubt  that,  as  Dyce 
says,  the  words  "  were  repeated  by  a  mistake  of  the  transcriber  or  com- 
positor."—  In  the  last  line,  also,  the  old  text  has  Come  instead  of 
compt.     Corrected  by  Theobald. 

Act  II.,  Scene  2. 

P.  220.  Takes  no  account 

/low  things  go  from  him  ;  no  reserve,  no  care 
Of  what  is  to  continue.  —  The  original  reads  "  nor  resume  no 
care."  The  common  reading  is,  "  nor  resumes  no  care."  Grant  White 
conjectures  "  nor  assumes  no  care  ";  but  I  cannot  see  much  improve- 
ment in  this.  The  reading  in  the  text  is  from  Collier's  second  folio. 
It  infers  an  easy  misprint ;  and  reserve  was  often  used  in  a  sense  well 
suited  to  the  context.  At  all  events,  to  speak  of  resuming  care  seems 
hardly  English. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  3OI 

P.  220.  Never  mind 

Was  to  he  so  unwise,  to  he  so  kind.  —  In  this  passage  the  text  is 
commonly  thought  to  be  corrupt.  Collier's  second  folio  reads  "  Was 
surely  so  unwise,  to  be  so  kind  ";  Singer's  second  folio,  "  Was  truly  so 
unwise,"  &c.;  but  neither  of  these  helps  the  matter  at  all.  One  of  the 
infinitives,  to  be,  is  probably  used  in  the  manner  of  the  Latin  gerund  ; 
to  be  for  by  being.  This  usage  was  much  more  common  in  Shake- 
speare's time  than  it  is  now.  So  that  I  do  not  think  the  text,  in  this 
instance,  to  be  corrupt. 

P.  221.    With  clamorous  demands  ti/' date-broke  bonds. 

And  the  detention  of  long-sitice-due  debts.  —  The  original  has 
"  of  debt,  broken  Bonds " ;  where  debt  probably  crept  in  by  mistake 
from  the  line  below.  Date-broke  bonds  means  the  same,  no  doubt,  as 
fracted  dates,  in  the  preceding  scene.  The  correction  was  begun  by 
Malone,  and  finished  by  Steevens.  Shakespeare  repeatedly  uses  broke 
for  broken. 

P.  222.    See  them  well  entertain'd. 

Stew.  Pray  you,  draw  near.  —  So  Capell. 

The  original  omits  you. 

P.  222.    Caph.    Who's  the  fool  now  ? 

Apem.  He  last  ask'd  the  question.  —  The  original  has 
^'■Where's  the  Foole  now?"  The  correction  is  Lettsom's.  Walker 
thinks  we  ought  to  read  "  He  that  last  ask'd  the  question." 

P.  223.  Look  you,  here  comes  my  mistress' /rt^v.  —  The  original  has 
"my  Masters  page."     The  same  error  occurs  again  a  Utile  further  on. 

P.  224.  When  men  come  to  borroio  of  your  masters,  they  approach 
sadly,  and  go  away  merrily.  —  The  original  has  vierry,  —  an  obvious 
error,  which  the  context  rectifies.     Corrected  in  the  third  folio. 

P.  225.  My  dear-loved  lord. 

Though  you  hear  now,  yet  now's  a  time  too  late.  —  In  the  first 
of  these  lines,  the  original  has  "  My  lov'd  Lord."  The  insertion  of  dear 
is  from  the  second  folio.  The  old  text  gives  the  other  line  thus: 
"  Though  you  heare  now  {too  late)  yet  nowes  a  time."  This  was  altered 
by  Hanmer  to  "Though  yi)U  hear  now,  tv/  now's  too  late  a  time."  Tiie 
reading  in  the  text  is  from  Collier's  second  folio,  and  gives  the  same 


302  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

sense  as  Hanmer's.  The  old  reading  is  explained  by  Warburton  thus : 
"  Though  it  be  now  too  late  to  retrieve  your  former  fortunes,  yet  it  is 
not  too  late  to  prevent,  by  the  assistance  of  your  friends,  your  future 
miseries."  Walker  thinks  this  explanation  the  right  one  ;  but  I  prefer 
Ritson's :  "Though  I  tell  you  this  at  too  late  a  period,  perhaps,  for  the 
information  to  be  of  any  service  to  you,  yet,  late  as  it  is,  it  is  necessary 
that  you  should  be  acquainted  with  it.  It  is  evident  that  the  steward 
had  very  little  hope  of  assistance  from  his  master's  friends."  To  accord, 
however,  with  this  explanation,  the  text  apparently  requires  some  such 
change  as  I  have  admitted. 

P.  226.    I  have  retired  me  to  a  wakeful  couch, 

And  set  mine  eyes  atflozv.  — Instead  of  wakeftd  couch,  the  old 
text  has  7vastefull  cocke,  which  is  commonly  explained  "  a  pipe  with  a 
turning  stopple  running  to  waste."  That  must  indeed  be  the  meaning 
of  the  text,  if  it  have  any  meaning  ;  but  I  can  see  no  fitness  in  that 
meaning  to  the  context.  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel  notes  upon  the  passage  thus  : 
"  For  wastefull  cocke,  I  would  read  zvakeful  cot.  Substantially  this  con- 
jecture, I  find,  has  been  anticipated  by  Jervis,  who  proposes  wakeful 
couch." 

P.  226.    Hotu  many  prodigal  bits  have  slaves  and  peasants 
This  night  englutted !      Who  is  not  Lord  Tiinon's  ? 
What  heart,  head,  sword,  force,  means,  but  is  Lord  Timon's  ? 
—  In  tlie  second  of  these  lines,  the  original  reads  "  Who  is  not  Timons." 
Steevens  proposed  the  insertion  of  Lord,  and  the  context  amply  justi- 
fies it. 

P.  226.  No  villainous  bounty  yet  hath  pass\l  my  hands.  —  The  orig- 
inal has  heart  instead  of  hands.  Walker  notes  upon  the  passage  thus  : 
"  Lleart  occurs  three  lines  l^elow,  likewise  at  the  end  of  the  line.  Read 
hand,  or  hands ;  the  latter,  I  think." 

P.  22).    Stew.  Assurance  bless  your  thoughts  ! 

Tim.    And,  in  sonie  sort,  these  wants  of  mine  are  crowri'd, 
That  /  account  them  blessings  ;  for  by  these 
.    Shall  L  try  friends  :  you  shall  perceive  how  you 

Mistake  my  fortunes  ;  L  am  wealthy  in  my  friends. — 
Within  there  !     Flavius  !   Servilius  ! 

Enter  Flavius,  Servilius,  and  other  Servants. 


CRITICAI,    NOTES.  303 

So  the  original,  except  that,  instead  of  this  stage  direction,  it  has  simply 
"  Enier  three  Servants."  In  the  sixth  line,  modern  editions  change 
Flavins  to  Flaminius,  though  the  metre  plainly  requires  it  to  be  as  the 
folio  has  it.  Of  course  the  change  is  made  in  order  to  save  Flavins  for 
the  name  of  Timon's  Steward.  And  for  the  same  reason,  no  doubt,  in 
the  Anonymous  portions  Flaminius  is  substituted  for  Flavins,  wherever 
the  servant  so  named  is  designated.  I  therefore  print  Flavins  instead 
of  Flaminius  as  often  as  the  latter  name  occurs  ;  thus  assimilating  the 
Anonymous  portions  to  the  Shakespeare,  and  not  the  Shakespeare  por- 
tions to  the  Anonymous. 

P.  228.    Bnt  yet  they  conld  have  wished — they  know  not  what ;  — 

Something  hath  been  amiss,  &c.  —  So  Dyce.  The  original  lacks 
7vhat. 

P.  22S.    I  pr'ythee,  man,  look  cheerly.      These  old  fellows 

Have  their  ingratitude  in  them  hereditary.  —  The  original  omits 
/.     Supplied  by  Pope. 

Act  III.,  Scene  i. 

P.  231.    I  feel  my  master'' s  passion  1    Why,  this  slave 

Unto  this  hour  has  my  lord's  meat  in  him  : 

Why  shonld  it  thrive,  and  tnrn  to  nntriment 

In  him,  when  he  is  tnrn'd  to  poison  ?     O, 

May  disease  only  work  npon't !  and,  when 

He's  sick  to  death,  let  not  that  part  ofs  nature 

Which  my  lord  paid  for  be  of  any  power 

To  expel  sickness,  &c.  — In  the  first  of  these  Hues,  IVhy  is  want- 
ing in  the  old  text.  In  the  second  line,  also,  the  original  has  "  Unto 
his  hononr."  The  change  of  his  hononr  to  this  honr  was  made  by 
Pope  ;  and,  as  it  gives  a  sense  every  way  fitting,  and  at  the  same  time 
sets  the  metre  right,  I  have  no  scruple  in  adopting  it.  Dyce  thinks  it 
probable  that  the  true  reading  is  "  this  slander  Unto  his  honour  "  ;  and 
he  quotes  several  instances  of  slave  and  slander  misprinted  for  each 
other.  The  change  would  indeed  give  a  fitting  sense,  still  I  cannot  see 
that  it  has  any  advantage  over  Pope's.  In  the  fourth  line,  also,  the  old 
text  is  without  the  words  In  him  ;  which  js  Keightlcy's  reading.  The 
reason  for  inserting  them  is  obvious.  In  the  fifth  line,  again,  the 
old  text  has  Diseases  instead  of  disease.     The  correction   is  Walker's. 


304  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

Finally,  in  the  sixth  line,  the  original  has  "  let  not  that  part  of  Nature." 
The  insertion  of  's  after  of  is  proposed  by  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel,  and  is,  I 
think,  fairly  required  by  the  sense  of  the  passage. 

Act  III.,  Scene  2. 

P.  232.  One  of  his  men  was  with  the  Lord  Lucullus  to  borrow 
fifty  talents.  —  So  Theobald.  The  original  reads  "  borrow  so  7nany  tal- 
ents." But,  surely,  the  context  leaves  no  doubt  that,  as  Dyce  notes, 
"the  author  must  have  intended  a  specific  sum  to  be  mentioned." 
Lettsom,  also,  remarks  upon  the  passage  as  foUow's :  "  The  same  words, 
three  times  occurring,  show  that  a  definite  sum  was  the  subject  of  con- 
versation ;  and  it  is  clear,  from  this  and  the  two  preceding  scenes,  that 
that  definite  sum  was  fifty  talents.  The  earlier  editors  saw  this."  At 
the  end  of  the  third  speech  following,  we  have  the  phrase  "  so  iiiariy 
talents  "  again  ;  but,  as  the  expression  is  there  made  definite  by  what 
has  gone  before,  I  leave  it  unchanged. 

P-  233.  Requesting  your  lordship  to  supply  his  instant  use  with  fifty 
talents.  —  Here,  again,  the  original  has  "with.y()  7«rt«j' talents."  See 
the  preceding  note. 

P.  233.  How  unluckily  it  happen'' d,  that  I  should  purchase  the  day 
before,  and,  for  a  Utile  part,  undo  a  great  deal  of  honour  !  Servilius, 
nozu,  before  the  gods,  I  am  not  able  to  do't,  &c.  —  In  the  first  of  these 
sentences,  the  original  reads  "  the  day  before  for  a  little  part,  a7id 
undo."  The  transposition  of  and  was  proposed  by  Jackson,  and  seems 
the  best  way  of  reducing  the  passage  into  some  sort  of  propriety. 
Theobald  printed  "  for  a  little  dirt,"  meaning  land;  and  Johnson  pro- 
posed "  for  a  little  pari."  In  the  last  sentence,  the  original  has  do 
instead  of  do't,  which  is  Capell's  reading. 

P.  2_34.  .-i/td Just  of  the  same  piece 

Is  every  flatterer's  spirit.  —  So  Theobald.     The   original   has 
sport  instead  of  spirit. 

P.  234.    Nor  e'er  came  any,  of  his  bounties  over  me, 

To  mark  me  for  his  friend. —  So  Capell.     The  old  text  omits 
e'er. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  305 


Act  III.,  Scene  3. 

P.  235.  How  !  have  they  denied  him  ?  have  Ventidius,  Lucius,  and 
Lucullus  denied  him.  —  Here  the  original  omits  Lucius  ;  but  the  con- 
text shows  beyond  question  that  this  name  ought  to  be  mentioned  along 
with  the  other  two.  The  omission  was  doubtless  accidental.  Both 
Hanmer  and  Capell  insert  Lucius- 

V.  235.  LLis  friends,  like  physicians,  thrice  give  him  over.  —  The 
original  has  thrive  instead  of  thrice.  The  correction  is  Johnson's  ;  but 
I  suspect,  with  Walker,  that  thrive  is  "  an  interpolation,  originating  in 
some  way  or  other  from  give.'"  The  word  thrice  is  to  be  understood  as 
referring  to  the  three  friends  mentioned  just  Ijefore. 

P.  235.  .So  I  may  prove  an  argument  of  laughter  to  the  rest,  and 
^inongst  lords  be  thought  a  fool.  —  The  original  reads  "so  ?Vmay  prove," 
&c.  The  second  folio  attempts  to  cure  the  defect  by  inserting  /before 
"  be  thought  a  fool."  Perhaps  I  ought  to  add,  that  in  the  original  this 
whole  speech  is  printed  as  verse  ;  but,  as  it  cannot  possibly  be  made 
to  read  as  such,  I  have  no  scruple  in  printing  it  as  prose,  all  except  the 
couplet  at  the  close. 

P.  236.    This  was  my  lord's  last  hope  ;  noio  all  are  fled. 

Save  the  gods  only.  —  The  original  has  "  best  hope."  Walker 
says,  "  Read,  of  course,  last :  see  context."  The  old  text  also  has 
"  Save  onely  the  gods."     Corrected  by  Pope. 

Act  hi..  Scene  4. 

P.  237.  You  must  consider  that  a  prodigal's  course  is  like  the  Sun's; 
but  not,  like  his,  recoverable.  —  The  original  has  "  a  prodigal  course." 
Corrected  by  Theobald. 

P.  238.  IVhat  do  you  ask  of  me,  my  friends? — The  original  has 
Friend.     The  context  requires /riV/ir/r.     Dyce's  correction. 

P.  239.    .\n  //he  be  so  far  beyond  his  health, 

Methinks  he  should  the  sooner  pay  his  debts.  —  The  original 
reads  "And  if  //  be  so  far,"  &c.  The  i)rinting  of  and  for  an  is  very 
common;  and  the  context  clearly  shows  //  to  be  ;m  crmr  fur  he. 
Corrected  bv  Walker  and  Kowe. 


306  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

P.  239.  IVe  cannot  take  this  for  an  anszvfr,  sir.  —  The  old  text 
omits  an.  As  the  next  word  begins  with  rt«,  such  an  omission  might 
easily  happen.     Inserted  by  Rowe. 

P.  239.  Hor.  Serv.  .hid  //lini-,  my  lord.  —  In  the  old  text,  this  speech 
has  the  prefix  "/   Var."     Corrected  by  Capell. 

P.  240.  Go,  bid  all  my  friends  again, 

Lucius,  Lucullus,  and  Sempronius ;  all.  —  The  original  has 
"  Lucius,  Lucullus,  and  Sempronius  Ullorxa  :  All,"  &c.  The  second 
folio  reads  "  Lucius,  Lucullus,  add  Semprovius  :  All,"  &c.  The  read- 
ing in  the  text  is  that  of  the  third  folio.  How  Ullorxa  got  into  the 
original  text,  it  is  impossible  to  say :  that  it  ought  not  to  be  there,  is 
evident  enough. 

Act  in..  Scene  5. 

P.  241.  MyXorAs,  you  have  my  voice  to  it.  —  So  Dyce.  The  original 
has  "  My  Lord.'"  As  the  speaker  is  addressing  the  Senate,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  we  ought  to  read  lords. 

P.  241.  Most  true  ;  the  law  shall  bruise  \nm. — The  old  text  has  em 
instead  of  him.     Hardly  worth  noting. 

P.  241.    Lie  is  a  ?nan,  setting  this  fault  aside. 

Of  comely  virtues.  —  The  original  reads  "  setting  his  Fate 
aside."  Pope  and  Collier's  second  folio  change  Fate  io  fault ;  and  the 
change  of  his  to  this  seems  to  me  equally  necessary.  And  so  War- 
burton. 

P.  241.    But  with  a  noble  fury  and  free  spirit, 

LLe  did  oppose  his  foe.  —  The  original  has  "  and  faire  spirit." 
Walker  notes  upon  the  passage  thus  :  "Fair,  except  in  a  modern  sense, 
is  inadmissible  here.  I  suspect  that  iox  faire  we  should  read  free,  that 
is,  single-hearted,  generotis,  ut passim  apud  Nostriwi." 

P.  242.  lie  did  behave  his  anger,  ere  Hwas  spent.  —  The  original  has 
"  did  behoove  his  anger."  The  correction  is  Rowe's.  Collier's  second 
folio  alters  behoove  to  reprove  ;  Singer,  to  hehood,  explaining  it  to  mean 
"hide,  or  conceal  as  with  a  hood."  For  my  own  part,  I  doubt  whether 
either  of  the  three  changes  is  the  right  one.     See,  however,  foot-note  i. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  307 

P.  242.     IVky  do  fond  men  expose  themselves  to  battle. 

And  not  endure  «// threatenings?  sleep  upotit. 

And  let  the  foes  quietly  cut  their  throats, 

Without  repugnancy  ?     Or,  if  there  be 

Such  valour  in  the  bearing.  —  In  the  second  of  these  hnes,  the 
old  text  has  threats  instead  of  Ihreatenings,  which  is  Pope's  correction. 
It  also  lacks  Or  in  the  fourth  line.  Inserted  by  Capell.  As  the  pas- 
sage was  evidently  meant  to  be  metrical,  it  seems  unlikely  that  the 
author  would  have  allowed  two  such  gaps  in  the  verse.  Walker  thinks 
that  "  endure  requires  a  different  word,"  but  proposes  no  substitute. 
Perhaps  insults ;  threats  having  crept  in  from  throats  in  the  line  below. 

P.  243.    And  th''  ass  more  captain  than  the  lion  ;  the  felon 

Leaden  with  irons  iviser  than  the  judge.  —  The  original  hasyi'/- 
low  instead  oi  felon.     Johnson's  correction. 

P.  243.  I  say,  my  lords,  'has  done  fair  service.  —  The  original  has 
"Why  say  my  Lords  ha's  done,"  &c.  The  second  folio  inserts  /before 
say.  The  sense  clearly  requires  /,  but  the  metre  does  not  admit  both 
/and  l-Vhy. 

P.  243.    /f  there  were  no  more  foes,  that  were  enough 

To  overcome  him.  —  So  Walker.  The  old  text  omits  tnore, 
which  is  needful  alike  to  sense  and  metre. 

P.  244.  I'll pa~un  my  victories,  all 

Afy  honours  to  you,  upon  his  good  return. — The  original  has 
Honour  and  rcturnes. 

P.  245.  .lltcnd  our  weightier  judgment,  .hid,  to  (|ucll  your  spirit. 
He  shall  be  executed  presently.  —  Instead  of  "  And  to  quell  your 
spirit,"  the  original  has  "  And  not  to  sivell  our  Spirit.''  This  is  gener- 
ally, and  no  doubt  justly,  thought  to  be  corrupt.  Ilannier  reads  "And 
(not  to  swell  our  spirit)  he  shall,"  &c. ;  Warimrton,  "And,  (jioxu  to 
swell  your  spirit,)  Me  shall,"  &c. ;  Capell,  "  And,  not  to  swell  your 
spirit,  He  shall,"  &c.  Various  other  changes  have  been  made  or  pro- 
posed ;  but  I  can  get  no  fitting  sense  out  of  any  of  them.  Singer  con- 
jectured "  n(jt  to  quell  our  spirit "  ;  and  this  suggested  the  present 
reading.  I  had  thought  t<->  read  "  .\w\  now  to  (luill,"  i\:c.  ;  but  n<nu  is 
altogether  redundant  both  in  .sense  and  metre,  and  was  pri)bai)!y  written 
as  an  alternative  reading  with  ,•///(/. 


308  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

P.  245.    Now  the  gods  keep  you  old  enough  ;  that  you  may  live 

Only  in  bone,  that  none  fnay  look  upon  you  !  —  The  expression 
"live  only  ««  bone"  is  certainly  very  odd.  Staunton  remarks  that 
"vv^hat  living  in  bone  may  mean,  and  why  when  ossified  these  aged 
senators  should  become  invisible,  are  beyond  our  comprehension."  He 
adds  the  following :  "  Hamlet,  speaking  to  Ophelia  of  her  father,  says, 
'  Let  the  doors  be  shut  upon  him,  that  he  may  play  the  fool  nowhere 
but  in's  ozan  house,''  and  it  may  be  questionable  whether  orily  in  hone  is 
not  a  typographical  error  for  only  at  home,  or  only  in  doors."  Dr. 
Ingleby  thinks  only  in  bed  may  be  the  right  reading,  and  quotes  from 
an  address  he  had  lately  read :  "  People  always  ailing  are  tiresome, 
there  is  no  denying  it.  I  have  a  great  dread  of  becoming  an  invalid. 
I  have  a  great  respect  for  invalids  in  bed,  —  out  of  sight."  But  why  not 
read  "  only  alone  "  .''  We  all  know  how  apt  the  aged  are  to  be  deserted 
and  forlorn.  And  one  of  the  greatest  miseries  of  old  age  is  the  liability 
to  be  cast  aside  or  shunned,  as  having  nothing  to  interest  or  attract 
society. 

P.  245.  Pours  into  captains''  zuounds  ?  Ha,  banishment  !  —  So  the 
second  folio.     The  first  omits  Ha. 

Act  III.,  Scene  6. 

P.  246.  He  hath  sent  me  an  earnest  inviting,  which  my  many  near 
occasions  did  urge  me  to  put  off. — The  original  reads  "many  my  neat 
occasions."    Walker  notes  upon  it,  "Was  this  ever  English?     I  doubt 

it." 

P.  247.  The  szvallow  follows  not  Summer  more  willingly  than  zae 
your  lordship.  —  The  original  has  zvilling ;  but  the  next  speech  shows 
it  should  be  zvillingly.     Corrected  in  the  fourth  folio. 

P.  247.  Feast  your  ears  with  the  music  awhile,  if  they  will  fare 
so  harshly.  O,  the  trumpets  sound;  we  shall  to^t  presently. — The 
original  reads  "If  they  will  fare  so  harshly  <?'  the  Trumpets  sound." 
The  arrangement  in  the  text  is  Walker's,  who,  however,  would  omit  O. 

P.  248.  The  rest  of  your  foes,  O  gods,  —  the  Senators  of  Athens,  to- 
gether ivith  the  cot?imon  tag  of  people,  &c.  —  The  old  text  has  Fees  in- 
stead oi  foes,  and  legge  instead  of  tag.  Warburton  changed  Fees  io  foes, 
and  both  changes  are  made  in  Collier's  second  folio. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  3O9 

P.  249.  This  is  Timon's  last  ; 

Who,  stuck  and  spangled  with  your  flattery, 

Washes  it  off,  and  sprinkles  in  your  faces 

Your  reeking  villainy. — Thy  original  reads  "Who  stucke  ancj 
spangled  j<>M  with  Flatteries."  Hanmer,  Warburton,  and  Capell  print 
"  spangled  with  your  flatteries  "  ;  but,  as  Walker  notes,  "flattery  is 
positively  required  by  the  sense."  Mr.  Fleay  is  quite  positive  that  the 
old  text  is  right,  on  the  ground  that  Timon  had  in  fact  been  wont  to 
flatter  the  present  company  by  his  profusion  of  bounty  to  them.  And 
this  is  true  ;  but  it  supposes  his  metaphor  to  be,  that  he  washes  from 
their  faces  the  reek  and  slime  of  toadyism  with  which  he  has  spattered 
them,  and  then  sprinkles  it  back  upon  them  under  another  name  ; 
whereas  it  seems  much  rather  to  be  that  of  sprinkling  in  their  faces  the 
perfumed  spatter  and  foulness  of  hypocrisy  which  he  washes  off  from 
his  own  ;  thus  cleansing  himself  of  what  they  have  daubed  him  with, 
and  daubing  them  with  it  in  payment. 

P.  249.    Cap-and-knee  slaves,  vapours,  and  minute-Jacks  ! 

Of  man  and  beast  the  infinite  maladies 

Crust  you  quite  o'er! — So  Hanmer  and  Walker.  The  orig- 
inal has  "the  infinite  Maladie."  In  the  first  line,  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel 
would  substitute  vampires  for  vapours.  Perhaps  rightly ;  though 
vapours  seems  rather  more  congruent  with  the  drift  of  llie  passage. 

P.  249.  \_Pelts  them  with  stones,  and  drives  them  out.  — The  origi- 
nal has  no  stage-direction  here  ;  and  Rowe  inserted  "  Throws  the 
dishes  at  them,  and  drives  them  out,"  which  is  adopted  by  most  of  the 
editors.  Walker  asks,  "  Ought  we  not  to  substitute  '  J'elts  them  with 
stones '?  "  In  support  of  the  change,  he  justly  refers  to  the  last  s])eech 
of  the  scene,  and  also  quotes  tlie  line,  "  Stay,  1  will  lend  thee  money, 
borrow  none,"  adding  that  "  stones  are  more  like  money  than  dishes 
are."     See  the  preface. 

r.  250.  y/e's  but  a  mad  lord,  and  nought  but  humour  sways  him.  — 
The  original  has  "nought  but  humors  swaies  him." 

Acr  IV.,  ScKN'K.  I. 

P.  251.  .Snii  ,f  sixicti, 

I 'luck  the  lined  crutch  from  thy  old  limping  sire.  —  So  the  sec- 
ond folio.     The  first  has  Some  instead  of  son. 


310  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

P.  251.    Decline  to  your  confounding  contraries. 

And  let   confusion  live !  —  So   Hanmer  and  Collier's  second 
folio.     The  original  has  yet  instead  of  let. 


Act  IV.,  Scene  2. 

P.  252.    As  -we  do  turn  our  backs 

To  our  companion  thrown  into  his  grave. 

So  his  familiars  from  his  buried  fortunes 

Slink  all  away.  —  So  Mason.  The  original  has  To  and  frotn 
transposed.  The  correction  is  at  once  so  simple  and  so  just,  that  I 
cannot  divine  why  any  editor  should  scruple  to  adopt  it.  Of  course 
"  his  familiars"  is  Ynsfa^niliar  friends. 

P.  253.     Who'' d  be  so  mock' d  ziiith  glory  .?  or  so  live 
But  in  a  dream  of  friendship  ?  who  survive, 
To  have  his  pomp,  and  all  state  comprehends, 
But  only  painted,  like  his  varnisKd  friends  ?  —  In  the  first  of 
these  lines,  the  original  has  "  or  to  live."     The  correction  is  Staunton's, 
Ijut  occurred  independently  to  White  also.     In  the  second  line,  the 
words  who  survive  are  wanting  in  the  old  text.     Collier's  second  folio 
fills  the  gap  with  and  revive.    But  I  think  revive  does  not  give  the  right 
sense  ;   and  it  seems  to  me  that  the  collocation  live  and  revive  is  hardly 
English.     In  the  third  line,  again,   the   original   reads  "To  have  his 
pompe,  and  all  ivhat  state  compounds.'"     I  can  gather  no  fitting  sense 
from  compounds  here.     The  reading  in  the  text  was  conjectured  by 
Walker,  and  is  also  found  in  Collier's  second  folio.  —  Since  the  above 
was  written,  I  find  that  Keightley  reads  and  survive  in  the  second  line. 

Act  IV.,  Scene  3. 

P.  254.  Touch  them  -with  several  fortunes, 

The  greater  scorns  the  lesser  :  not  those  natures, 
To  7vhom  all  sores  lay  siege,  can  bear  great  fortune. 
But  by  cofitempt  of  nature.  —  In  the  second  of  these  lines,  the 
original  has,  simply,  "  not  nature.'"  The  reading  in  the  text  was  pro- 
posed by  Steeven's  ;  though  Mason  anticipated  him  in  changing  nature 
to  natures.  The  demonstrative  those  is  plainly  needful  to  the  verse, 
and  at  least  helpful  to  the  sense. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  311 

P.  255.  Raise  me  this  beggar,  and  deject  (hat  lord.  —  Instead  of 
deject,  the  old  text  has  deny't,  for  which  Warburton  substitutes  denude, 
Ilanmer  degrade.  Collier's  second  folio  decline,  and  Staunton  demit. 
The  latter  gives  the  right  sense,  but  is  used  nowhere  else  by  Shake- 
speare, while  he  has  deject  repeatedly  in  the  same  sense.  See  foot-note 
4.  —  When  the  above  was  written  I  was  not  aware  that  Arrowsmith  had 
proposed  deject. 

V.  255.    //  is  the  pasture  lards  the  rother's  sides. 

The  -want  that  makes  him  lean.— The  original  has  "the 
Brother's  sides,"  and  leave  instead  of  lean.  The  correction  rother's  was 
made  by  Singer  ;  also  in  Collier's  second  folio.  The  second  folio  has 
leane. 

P.  256.  Pluck  sick  tnen's  pillotvs  from  belozo  their  heads.  —  So 
Hanmer.  The  original  has  stout  instead  of  sick.  Here  "  stout  men  " 
has  been  explained  "  men  who  have  strength  yet  remaining  to  struggle 
with  their  distemper."  But  is  not  this  something  forced  ?  See  foot- 
note 9. 

P.  256.    And  give  thetn  title,  knee,  and  approbation. 

With  senators  on  the  bench  :  why,  this  it  is 

That  makes  the  wapper'd  widow  wed  again.  —  Instead  of 
" why,  this  it  is"  the  old  text  has,  simply,  "  this  is  ilT  Corrected  by 
Steevens  In  the  next  line,  also,  it  has  wappen'd.  The  word  is  so  very 
rare,  that  we  cannot  determine  positively  whether  wappett  is  another 
form  of  wapper,  or  a  misprint  ;   probably  the  latter.     See  foot-note  10. 

1'.  257.  IVith  man's  blood  paint  the  grotind,  gules,  gules.  —  I  suspect 
we  ought  to  print,  with  Capell,  "  gules,  to^al  gules."  So  in  Ilamlet,  ii. 
2 :  "  Head  to  foot  now  he  is  total  gules." 

P.  259.  That,  by  killing 

Of  villains,  thou  wast  born  to  scourge  my  country.  —  The  i>rig- 
inal  reads  "  borne  to  conquer  my  Country."  Walker  suggests  scourge, 
with  the  remark  that  "conquer  is  not  the  word  required. " 

P.  259.  That  through  the  7c/«rt'(77<'-bars  bore  at  mens  eyes.  —  The 
original  has  "window  Barne."     Johnson's  correction. 


312  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

P.  259.    Are  not  within  the  leaf  of  pity  writ. 

Bid  set  doivn  horrible  traitors. — The  original  reads  "But  set 
them  down."     Corrected  by  Dyce. 

P.  260.    Think  it  a  bastard,  who  the  oracle 

Hath  doubtfully  pronounced  \hy  throat  shall  cut.  —  The  original 
has  whom  instead  of  who,  and  the  instead  of  thy. 

P.  261.    Constimptious  so'iU 

In  hollow  bones  of  men  ;   strike  their  sharp  shins, 
And  mar  their  spurring.  —  So  Walker.     The  old  text  has  man 
instead  of  men,  and  "  marre  mens  spurring." 

P.  261.  Hoar  the  flamen. 

That  scolds  against  the  quality  of  flesh,  &c.  — The  original  has 
scold'' st ;  an  obvious  error  for  scolds.  Upton  thought  we  ought  to  read 
"hoarse  the  flamen,"  that  is,  make  hoarse  ;  "which  conjecture,"  says 
Heath,  "  is  not  improbable,  especially  as  the  next  line  represents  the 
flamen  as  scolding."     But  see  foot-note  28. 

P.  263.  Yield  him,  who  all\\\y  human  sons  doth  hate.  —  The  origi- 
nal reads  "  who  all  the  humane  Sonnes  do  hate."     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  263.    Teem  with  new  monsters,  whom  thy  tipivard face 

Hath  to  the  marbled  mansion-\\7C\  above 

Never  presented !  —  The  original  has  "Marbled  Mansion  all 
above."  Walker  notes  upon  all,  that  "it  has  no  meaning  in  this  place. 
Read  '  the  marbled  mansion-/^^?//  above.'  " 

P.  263.  Dry  up  thy  marrowy  vines  and  plough-torn  leas.  —  Instead 
of  marrowy,  the  old  text  has  Marrowes,  which  Collier's  second  folio 
changes  to  meadows.  It  does  not  appear  that  tnarroio  was  used  in  any 
sense  suitable  to  the  occasion  ;  while  tnarrowy  is  a  fitting  epithet  of 
vines.  The  change  is  suggested  by  Dyce  ;  and  marrozvie  might  easily 
be  misprinted  marrowes.     See  foot-note  32. 

P.  264.    A  poor  unmanly  melancholy  sprung 

Froin  change  of  fortune.  —  The  original  has  "  change  oi  future." 
Corrected  by  Rowe. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  313 

P.  264.  IVill  these  moss'd  trees. 

That  have  outlived  the  eagle,  page  thy  heels, 

And  skip  where  thou  point' st  out?  —  The  original  has  moyst  for 
nioss'J,  —  Ilanmer's  correction.  iWso  when  for  where.  Corrected  by 
Walker. 

P.  266.    To  such  as  may  the  passive  drudges  of  it 

Freely  command.  — The  original  has  drugges  and  coiumand'st ; 
but  drugges  appears  to  have  been  merely  another  way  of  spelling 
drudges. 

P.  267.    If  thou  wilt  curse,  thy  father,  that  poor  rogue, 

Afust  be  thy  subject.  —  The  old  text  has  "  that  poore  ragge."  The 
occurrence  of  rogue  in  the  third  line  below  justifies  the  correction,  I 
think.     It  is  Johnson's. 

P.  267.  First  mend  my  company,  take  azuay  thyself.  —  The  original 
has  "  mend  thy  company."     Rowe's  correction. 

P.  270.  Yonder  comes  a  parcel  of  soldiers.  —  The  old  text  reads 
"  Yonder  comes  a  Poet  and  a  Fainter."  There  has  been  a  deal  of 
futile  straining  and  writhing  to  reconcile  this  with  what  follows.  The 
best  explanation  of  the  old  text  that  I  have  met  with  is  Ritson's  ;  that 
the  poet  and  painter,  seeing  thatTimon  has  company,  and  preferring 
to  take  him  alone,  turn  back  to  the  city,  and  put  off  their  visit  to 
another  time.  But  this,  it  seems  to  me,  is  put  clean  out  of  court  at 
once  by  the  plain  fact,  that  Apcmantus  has  the  comers  distinct)/  in 
sight,  and  keeps  his  eye  upon  them  till  he  goes  off  the  stage,  and  goes 
off  to  avoid  meeting  them  ;  while  the  comers  enter  as  Banditti  the  mo- 
ment after  he  leaves.  As  there  are  at  least  three  of  them,  Apemantus 
can  hardly  be  supposed  to  mistake  them  for  two.  It  may  be  questioned 
whether  they  should  lie  here  spoken  of  as  soldiers  ;  but  it  appears 
afterwards  that  they  wear  the  garb  of  soldiers,  and  try  to  pass  them- 
selves off  as  such.  How  the  passage  came  to  I)c  printed  as  it  is,  it  were 
vain  to  conjecture.  Perhaps,  as  Mr.  Fleay  thinks,  this  part  of  the  scene 
was  written  by  Anonymous,  and  so  the  blunder  is  to  be  accounted  for 
in  the  same  way  as  his  other  incoherences.     See  the  preface,  page  187. 

P.  270.  I'd  beat  thee,  but  /  should  infit  my  hands. — The  old  text 
has  "//f  bcate  thee."      Ilanmer's  correction. 


314  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

P.  271.    O  thou  sweet  king-killer,  and  dear  divorce 

'  Tivixt  natural  son  and  sire  !  —  The  original  has  "Sunne  and 
fire."  Not  worth  noting,  perhaps,  but  as  it  shows  the  condition  of  the 
old  text.     Corrected  by  Rowe. 

P.  272.  Long  live  so,  and  so  die  !  [Exit  Apemantus.]  — Now  I  am 
quit.  —  The  original  lacks  Now.     Capell  printed, "5'ti,  I  am  quit." 

P.  272.  The  mere  want  of  gold,  and  the  falling-oK  of  his  friends, 
drove  him  into  this  melancholy. —  So  Pope.  The  original  has  "  falling 
from  of  his  Friendes."  Collier's  second  folio  reads  "  falling  from  him 
of  his  friends." 

P.  272.  Your  greatest  zuant  is,  you  ivant  much  it/"  men.  —  So  Han- 
mer.  The  original  has  meat  instead  of  men.  I  agree  with  Singer  that 
"  Hanmer's  reading  is  surely  the  true  one."     See  foot-note  52. 

P.  273.    Do  villainy,  do,  since  you  Y>yo\.e's\.  to  do^t. 

Like  7oorkmen.  —  Theobald  changed  protest  to  profess ;  — 
rightly,  I  suspect,  though  Dyce  says  "very  unnecessarily." 

P.  274.    Break  open  shops  ;  nought  can  you  steal,  hut  thieves 

Do  lose  it :  steal  not  less  for  this  L give  you.  — The  original  has 
nothing  instead  of  iiought,  and  omits  not,  which  was  inserted  by  Rowe.. 
Walker  proposed  nought. 

P.  275.  L  will  present 

My  honest  grief  \.o  him  ;  and,  as  my  lord. 

Still  serve  him  with  my  life.  —  The  original  has  "  griefe  unto 
him."     Pope's  correction. 

P.  276.  Lt  almost  turns  my  dattgerous  iiatnre  mild. — The  original 
has  wilde  instead  of  mild.     Thirlby's  correction. 

P.  276.  L  do  proclaim 

One  honest  7nan,  —  mistake  me  not,  — :  but  one  ; 
No  tnore,  /say,  —  and  he'' s  a  steward.  — The  old  text  hus  pray 
instead  of  say      Lettsom  notes  upon  the  passage  thus :   "  No  more,  / 
pray,  can  scarcely  mean  any  thing  but  cease,  I  pray  ;  which  would  make 
nonsense  here.     Qu.,  say.''     Surely  he  is  right. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  315 

P.  276.    Is  not  thy  kindness  subtle-covetous, 

A  usuring  kindness,  as  rich  men  deal  gifts. 

Expecting  twenty  in  return  for  one  ? —  In  the  second  of  these 
lines,  the  old  text  is,  "If  not  a  Usuring  liindnesse,  and  as  rich  men 
deale  Guifts."  I  have  no  doubt  that  If  not  crept  in  by  mistake  from 
Is  not  in  the  line  above.  And  so  Tyrwhitt  thought,  who  remarks  that 
"both  the  sense  and  metre  would  be  better  without  it."  The  same,  I 
think,  is  to  be  said  of  and.  The  old  text  also  has  "  Expecting  in  re- 
turn twenty  for  one." 

P.  276.    Suspect  still  cotnes  when  an  estate  is  least.  —  So  Hanmer  and 
Collier's  second  folio.     The  original  has  where  instead  of  when. 

P.  277.    For  any  benefit  that  points  to  me. 

Either  in  hope  or  present,  Pd  exchange  it 

For  this  one  wish,  &c.  —  So  Hanmer.  The  original  lacks  it, 
which  seems  fairly  required  by  the  sense. 


Act  v..  Scene  i. 

P.  279.  When  the  day  serves,  before  black-cwxX'xm'tS.  night,  &c.  — The 
original  has  "  blacke-forwi-rV  night."  Various  corrections  have  l)ccn 
made  or  proposed ;  but  this,  suggested  by  Singer,  seems  much  tlic  best. 
.See  foot-note  4. 

P.  281.    Know  his  gross  patchery,  love  him,  feed  hint,  keep 

Him   in  your  bosom:    &c.  —  So    Heath.     The    original    reads 
"Kcepc  in  your  bosome." 

P.  282.  You  that  way,  and  you  this,  not  two  in  company.  —  So 
Hanmer.  The  original  has  but  instead  of  not.  The  misprinting  of 
but  and  not  for  each  other  is  very  frequent. 

P.  282.  You  have  done  work  for  me,  there's  payment :  hence!  — 
The  original  omits  done.     Corrected  by  Malone. 

P.  282.  It  is  in  vain  that  you  would  speak  v)ith  Timon.  — So  the 
third  folio.     The  original  reads  "  It  is  vaine." 


3l6  TIMON    OF    ATHENS, 

P.  282.    It  is  our  pact  and  promise  to  th'  Athenians 

To  speak  with  Timon.  —  So  Walker.     The  old  text  has  pari 
instead  oi  pact. 


P.  283.  Be  as  a  cauterizing  to  the  root  o'  the  tongue.  —  So  Rowe. 
The  original  has  Cantherizing ;  the  second  folio,  Catherizing.  Lett- 
som  proposes  cauter ;  but  would  not  cantering  he  better?  Perhaps, 
after  all,  it  should  be  caticerizing,  or  cancering. 


P.  283.  And  now  the  ptiblic  body,  which  doth  seldom,  &c.  —  So 
Hanmer.  The  original  has  Which  instead  of  And.  Probably  the 
transcriber's  or  the  printer's  eye  caught  which  in  the  latter  part  of  the 
line,  and  repeated  it  here  by  mistake :  at  all  events,  Which  cannot  be 
right. 


P.  283.  Hath  sense  zoithal 

Of  \\.%  own  i3.\\,  restraining  aid  to  Timon. —  So  Capell.  The 
original  has  fall  instead  of  fail.  I  am  not  sure  but  it  were  better  to 
xQSiA  fault  with  Hanmer.  See  foot-note  12.  —  It  may  be  worth  the 
while  to  note  that  the  old  text  has  since  for  sense,  and  it  for  its.  The 
use  of  it  possessively  occurs  repeatedly.  See  note  on  "  The  innocent 
milk,"  &c.,  vol.  vii.  page  280. 


P.  285.    There's  not  a  whittle  in  th'  unruly  camp. 
But  I  do  prize  it  in  tny  love  before 

The  reverend' st  throat  in  Athens.  — The  original  has  "prize  it 
at  my  love."  The  correction  is  Hanmer's.  I  do  not  understand  the 
old  text. 


P.  286.    In  lifers  ttncertaiji  voyage,  that  I  will 

^>ome  kindness  do  them. — The  original  is  without  that  here. 
Walker  suggests  the  insertion  of  say  ;  but  the  conjunction  that'is  often 
repeated  in  such  cases. 


P.  286.    lips,  let  your  words  go  by,  and  language  end.  —  So  Walker, 
The  old  text  has  sotir  instead  oi  your. 


CRITICAL    NOTES.  317 


Act  v.,  Scene  2. 

P.  287.   I  met  a  courier,  one  mhte  ancient  friend  ; 

When,  though  in  general  part  we  were  opposed, 

Yet  our  old  love  had  a  particular  force, 

And  made  us  speak  like  friends. — In  the  second  of  these  lines, 
the  original  has  IVhom  instead  of  IVheti.  The  correction  is  Singer's. 
In  the  third  line,  also,  the  old  text  reads  "made  a  particular  force." 
Here  made  probably  crept  in  by  mistake  from  the  next  line.  Corrected 
by  Hanmer.  Staunton  thinks  we  should  read  "  Yet  our  old  love  took 
a  particular  truce  "  /  and  remarks,  truly,  that  to  take  a  truce  is  old  lan- 
guage for  to  tnake  a  truce. 

Act  v..  Scene  3. 

P.  288.  Some  beast  rear'd  this;  here  does  not  live  a  man. — The 
original  has  rcade  instead  of  rear\{,  and  there  instead  of  here.  The 
corrections  were  made  by  Theobald  at  Warburton's  suggestion,  and 
are  clearly  needful  to  the  sense,  though  Staunton  says  no.  See  foot- 
note 2. 

Act  v..  Scene  4. 

P.  289.    To  wipe  out  our  ingratitudes  with  loves 

Above  their  quantity. —  So  Capell  and  Walker.  The  old  text 
has  ingratitude. 

P.  289.  By  humble  message  and  by  promised  'mends.  —  So  Tlico- 
l)al(I.  The  (original  has  "  promist  meanes.^'  Shakespeare  elsewhere 
uses  ^mends  for  amends. 

P.  289.  These  walls  of  ours 

Were  not  erected  by  their  hands  from  whom 

You  have  received  your  griefs. — So  Theol)ald.  The  original 
has grcifi-  instead  y>{ griefs.  lUit  the  same  speaker  has  used  liie  plural 
a  little  before.     Here,  as  oi\.Qi\,  griefs  is  put  ior  grievances. 

P.  290.  //  is  not  square  to  take, 

On  those  that  are,  revenges  :   crimes,  like  lands, 
Are  not  inherited. — The  original  has  revenge;  but  the  plural 
occurs  in  the  preceding  sjiecch.     Corrected  by  Stccvcns. 


3l8  TIMON    OF    ATHENS. 

P.  290.    Thou  rather  shall  enforce  il  zvilh  Ihy  smile 

Than  hew\  out  7uilh  thy  sword. — The  original  has  "hew 
loo't,  with  thy  Sword."     The  correction  is  Mr.  P.  A.  Daniel's. 

P.  291.    But  shall  be  render'd  to  your  public  laws 

At  heaviest  ansiver. — The  original  has  "be  remedied  to  your 
pulique  Lawes  " ;  which  is  neither  English  nor  sense.  The  correction 
is  Chedworth's. 

P.  291.    Interprets  for  my  poorer    ignorance. — The   old  text  has 
"  my /ci(9;'<' ignorance."     Walker's  correction.     See  foot-note  10. 

P.  291.    Here  lies  a  wretched  corse,  ofivretchedsoul  bereft  : 

Seek  not  f?iy  name  :  a  plague  consume  you  wicked  caitiffs  left  ! 
—  To  this  epitaph,  which  is  given  by  Plutarch  as  the  authentic  one,  the 
original  adds  another  said  to  have  been  made  by  Callimachus.  See  the 
preface,  page  191.  As  this  scene  was  unquestionably  written  by  .Shake- 
speare, and  as  the  two  epitaphs  flatly  contradict  each  other,  it  is  incred- 
ible that  he  meant  them  both  to  stand.  Probably  he  set  them  down  as 
alternative  readings,  and  then,  through  some  mistake  or  oversight,  the 
two  got  printed  together. 

P.  292.  Yet  rich  conceit 

Taught  thee  to  make  vast  Neptune  weep  for  aye 
On  thy  Imv  grave  d'QX:  faults  forgiven.  —  The  original  reads 
"  On  thy  low  Grave,  on  faults  f  jrgiven."  I  substitute  o'er  on  the 
ground  that  the  old  spelling  ore  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  en,  while 
the  latter  seems  to  yield  no  fitting  sense  here.  Tyrwhitt  and  Walker 
would  read  "On  thy  low  grave.  One  fault's  forgiven."  Tyrwhitt  sup- 
poses the  one  fault  in  question  to  be  the  ingratitude  of  the  Athenians 
towards  Timon  ;  and  that  this  is  forgiven,  that  is,  exempted  from  pun- 
ishment, by  the  death  of  the  injured  person.  I  cannot  luring  myself  to 
take  this  as  the  meaning  of  the  passage.  There  have  been  faults  on 
both  sides  ;  and  surely  the  faults  of  both  sides  are  meant  to  be  included 
in  the  pathetic  imagery  of  the  passage. 

P.  292.    And  I  will  use  the  olive  with  my  szvord. —  Instead  of  use.^ 
Walker  thinks  we  should  read  twine.     Perhaps  so. 


ps-'