288 We term it mulier : which mulier, I divine, Is this most constant wife who, even now, Answering the letter of the oracle, Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about With this most tender air. Cym. This bath some seeming. Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd point branches Thy two sons forth: who, by Belarius stolen, For many years thought dead, are now reviv'd, To the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue Promises Britain peace and plenty. Cym. Well, By peace we will begin :-And, Caius Lucius, To pay our wonted tribute, from the which Have laid most heavy hand. Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do The harmony of this peace. The vision The imperial Cesar, should again unite Cym. Laud we the gods; And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils From our bless'd altars! Publish we this peace To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let A Roman and a British ensign wave Rizo. Friendly together: so through Lud's march: town And in the temple of great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts.Set on there:- Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a [Exeunt peace. A SONG, Sung by Guiderius and Arviragus over Fidele, supposed to be dead. BY WILLIAM COLLINS. To fair Fidele's grassy tomb, Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew: The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew. The red-breast oft at evening hours Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid. When howling winds and beating rain. In tempests shake the sylvan cell: Or midst the chase on every plain, The tender thought on thee shall dwell, Each lonely scene shall thee restore; For thee the tear be duly shed: Belov'd, till life could charm no more; And mourn'd, till pity's self be dead. KING LEAR. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. THE subject of this interesting tragedy, which was probably written in 1605, is derived from an old historical ballad, founded on a story in Holinshed's Chronicles, and originally told by Geoffery of Monmouth. "Leir (says the Welsh historian) was the eldest son of Bladud, nobly governed his country for sixty years, and died about 800 years before Christ." Camden tells a similar story of Isra, king of the West Saxons, and his three daughters.---The episode of Gloster and his sons is taken from Sidney's Arcadia. Tate,the laureat, greatly altered, and in a degree polished this play, inserting new scenes or passages, and transposing or omitting others in particular, he avoided its original heart-rending catastrophe, by which the virtue of Cordelia was suffered to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and to the facts of the ancient narrative. He also introduced Edgar to the audience as the suitor of Cordelia, cancelling the excellent scene in which, after being rejected as dowerless, by Burgundy, her misfortunes and her goodness recommend her to the love of the king of France. Yet the restauration of the king, and the final happiness of Cordelia, have been censured (in the Spectator especially) as at variance with true tragic feeling and poetical beauty: although it may fairly be presumed, since mankind naturally love justice, that an attention to its dictates will never make a play worse, and that an audience will generally rise more satisfied where persecuted virtue is rewarded and triumphant. Lear's struggles against his accumulated injuries, and his own strong feelings of sorrow and indignation, are exquisitely drawn. The daughters severally working him up to madness, and his finally falling a martyr to that malady, is a more deep and skilful combination of dramatic portraiture than can be found in any other writer. "There is no play (says Dr. Johnson,) which keeps the attention so constantly fixed; which so much agitates our passions and interests our curiosity." The celebrated Dr. Warton, who minutely criticised this play in the Adventurer, objected to the instances of cruelty, as too savage and too shocking. But Johnson observes, that the barbarity of the daughters is an historical fact, to which Shakspeare has added little, although he cannot so readily apologize for the extrusion of Gloster's eyes, which is too horrid an act for dramatic exhibition, and such as must always compel the mind to relieve its distresses by incredulity. Colman, as well as Tate, re-modelled this celebrated Drama, but it is acted, with trifling variations, on the original plan of the latter. Kent. Is not this your son, my lord? SCENE I-A Room of State in King LEAR'S charge: I have so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it. Glo. But I have, Sir, a son, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer Handsome. In my account: though this knave came some- | No less in space, validity, and pleasure, what saucily into the world before he was sent Than that confirm'd on Goneril,-Now, our joy, for, yet his mother was fair; there was good Although the last, not least; to whose young love sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.-Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ? Edm. No, my lord. The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy, Strive to be interess'd:t what can you say, to draw Glo. My lord of Kent: remember him here- A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. after as my honourable friend. Edm. My services to your lordship. Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you better. Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. Glo. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again :-The king is coming. Gloster. [Trumpets sound within Enter LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, Give me the map there.-Know, that we have In three, our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent And you, our no less loving son of Albany, strife future May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, sojourn, Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, Gon. Sir, I [matter Do love you more than words can wield the honour: As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found: unable; Beyond all manner of so much I love you. silent. line to this, Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd, issue With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart, [sesses; Which the most precious square of sense pos- In your dear highness' love. Cor. Then poor Cordelia ! [Aside. And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's Lear. To thee and thine hereditary ever You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me: I Half my love with him, half my care, and duty: Lear. But goes this with thy heart? Lear. So young, and so untender ? Lear. Let it be so.-Thy truth then be thy For, by the sacred radiance of the sun; Or he that makes his generation | messes Kent. Good my liege, Lear. Peace, Kent! Come not between the dragon and his wrath: Call Burgundy,-Cornwall and Albany, |