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Mine houour'd lady!

Cym. Does the world go round?

Post. How come these staggers on me?
Pis. Wake, my mistress?

Cym. If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me

To death with mortal joy

Pis. How fares my mistress?

Imo. O get thee from my sight;

Thou gav'st me poison: dangerous fellow, hence !
Breathe not where princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen!
Pis. Lady.

The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if
That box I gave you was not thought by ine
A precious thing: I had it from the queen.
Cym. New matter still?

Imo. It poison'd me.

Cor. O gods !—

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late

My lady's honour: what became of him, further know not.

Gui. Let me end the story:

I slew him there.

Cym. Marry, the gods forfend!

I would not thy good deeds should from my lips

Pluck a hard sentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth, Deny't again.

Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a prince.

Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he did

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Endure our law: Thou art dead.

Imo. That headless man

I thought had been my lord.
Cym. Bind the offender,
And take him from our presence.

Bel. Stay, Sir king:

This man is better than the man he slew,
As well descended as thyself; and bath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
Had ever scar for. Let his arms alone;

[To the Guards. They were not born for bondage.

Cym. Why, old soldier,
Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent
As good as we ?

Arv. In that he spake too far.
Cym. And thou shalt die for't.
Bel. We will die all three,

But I will prove that two of us are as good
As I have given out him.-My sons, I must,
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech,
Though, haply, well for you.

Arv. Your danger is

Our's.

Gui. And our good his.

[Embracing him.

Bel. Have at it then.

[who

By leave ;-Thou had'st, great king, a subject, Was call'd Belarius.

Cym. What of him? he is

Cym. How now, my flesh, my child? What, mak'st thou me a duliard in this act? Wilt thou not speak to me !

Imo. Your blessing, Sir.

[Kneeling.

Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame ye not;

You had a motive for't.

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Now fear is from me, I'll speak truth. Lord Cloten,

Upon my lady's missing, came to me

A banish'd traitor.

Bel. He it is, that bath

Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man ; I know not how, a traitor.

Cym. Take him hence;

The whole world shall not save him.

Bel. Not too hot :

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons;
And let it be confiscate all, so soon
As I have receiv'd it.

Cym. Nursing of my sons?

Bel. I am too blunt and sancy: Here's my knee;

Ere I arise I will prefer my sons;

Then, spare not the old father. Mighty Sir, These two young gentlemen, that call me fa

ther,

And think they are my sons, are none of mine;
They are the issue of your loins, my liege,

With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, And blood of your begetting.

and swore,

• Mix, compound.

Cym. How! my issue?

• Forbid.

Scene V.

CYMBELINE

These,
Bel. So sure as you your father's. 1, old Why fled you from the court? and whither?
Morgan,
Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: And your three motives to the battle, with
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my pun-I know not how much more, should be de-

ishment

Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes
(For such, and so they are,) these twenty

years

Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I
Could put into them; my breeding was, Sir,

as

Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile,
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these chil-

dren

Upon my banishment; I mov'd her to't;
Having receiv'd the punishment before,
For that which I did then: Beaten for loyalty
Excited me to treason: Their dear loss,
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shap'd
But, gracious
Unto my end of stealing them.

Sir,

Here are your sons again; and I must lose
Two of the sweet'st companions in the world :-
The benediction of these covering heavens

Fail on their heads like dew! for they are
worthy

To inlay heaven with stars.

Cym. Thou weep'st, and speak'st.

The service, that you three have done, is more Unlike than this thou tell'st: I lost my children:

If these be they, I know not how to wish

A pair of worthier sons.

Bel. Be pleas'd a while.

This gentleman, whom I call Polydore,

manded;

And all the other by-dependancies.

From chance to chance; but nor the time, nor
place,

See,

Will serve our long intergatories.
Posthúmus anchors upon Imogen;
And she like harmless lightning, throws her eye
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting
Each object with a joy; the counterchange
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground,
And smoke the temple with our sacrifices.-
Thou art my brother; So we'll hold thee ever.
[To BELARIUS.

Imo. You are my father too: and did re-
relieve me,

To see this gracious season.

Cym. All overjoy'd,

Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too,
For they shall taste our comfort.
Imo. My good master,

Luc. Happy be you!

[Kneeling.

Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, He would have well becom'd this place, and grac'd

The thankings of a king.

Post. I am, Sir,

The soldier that did company these three
In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for

The purpose I then follow'd ;-That I was he,
Speak, Iachimo: I had you down, and might
Have made you finish.

Most worthy prince, as your's, is true, Gui-I will yet do you service.

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of his queen mother, which, for more probation,

I can with ease produce.

Cym. Guiderius had

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;

It was a mark of wonder.

Bel. This is he;

Who hath upon him still that natural stamp ;
It was wise nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now.

Cym. O what am I

A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother
Rejoic'd deliverance more: Bless'd may you

be,

That after this strange starting from your orbs,
You may reign in them now!-O Imogen,
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom.
Imo. No, my lord;

I have got two worlds by't.-O my gentle
brothers,

Have we thus met? O never say hereafter,
But I am truest speaker: you call'd me brother,
When I was but your sister; I you brothers,
When you were so indeed.

Cym. Did you e'er meet?

Are. Ay, my good lord.

Gui. And at first meeting lov'd;

Continued so, until we thought he died.

Cor. By the queen's dram she swallow'd.
Cem. O rare instinct !

When shall I hear all through? This fierce

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Iach. I am down again :

But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee,
seech you,
As then your force did. Take that life, 'be-

Which I so often owe: but, your ring first:
That ever swore her faith.
And here the bracelet of the truest princess,

Post. Kneel not to me:

The power that I have on you, is to spare you,
The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live,
And deal with others better.

Cym. Nobly doom'd:

We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law;
Pardon's the word to all.

Arv. You holp us, Sir,

As you did mean indeed to be our brother;
Joy'd are we, that you are.

Post. Your servant, princes.-Good my lord
of Rome,

Call forth your soothsayer: As I slept, me-
thought,

Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back,
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows
This label on my bosom; whose containing
Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I found
Is so from sense in hardness, that I can
Make no collection of it; let him show
His skill in the construction.

Luc. Philarmonus,-
Sooth. Here, my good lord.

Luc. Read and declare the meaning.
Sooth. [Reads.] When as a lion's whelp
shall, to himself unknown, without seeking
find, and be embraced by a piece of tender
air; and when from a stately cedar shall be
lopped branches, which,being dead many years,
shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock,
and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end
his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish
in peace and plenty.

cap-Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp';
The fit and apt construction of thy name,
Being Leo-natus, doth import so much :
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter,
[To CYMBELINE.
Which we call mollis aer; and mollis aer

+ Le. Which ought to be rendered distinct in an ample narrative.

• Ghostly appearances.

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 hath some seeming.

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point

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,
Although the victor, we submit to Cesar,
And to the Roman empire; promising
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen;
Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her and
her's)

Have laid most heavy band.

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do
tune

The harmony of this peace. The vision
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke
Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant
Is full accomplish'd: For the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o'the sun
So vanish'd; which foreshow'd our princely
eagle,

The imperial Cesar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
Which shines here in the west.

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 Romau and a British ensign wave

• Rico.

| 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 peace. [Exeunt

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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 pily'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 sous 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 jusLear's struggles against his accumutice, 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 triumphaut. lated 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 skriful 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 The celebrated Dr. Warton, who minutely criticised this play in the and interests our curiosity." Adventurer, objected to the instances of crualty, 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 Colman, as well 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. Tate, re-modelled this celebrated Drama, but it is acted, with trifling variations, on the original plan of the latter.

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ACT I.

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord?
Glo. His breeding, Sir, hath been at my

SCENE I.—A Room of State in King LEAR'S charge: I have so often blush'd to acknowledge

Palace.

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him, that now I am brazed to it.
Kent. I cannot conceive you.
Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could:
whereupon she grew round-wombed; and had,
indeed, Sir, a son for her cradle, ere she had a
Do you smell a fault?
Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the
husband for her bed.
issue of it being so proper.

Glo. But I have, Sir, a son, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer

• Handsome.

2 P

in my account: though this knave came somewhat saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet his mother was fair; there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.-Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ?

Edm. No, my lord.

No less in space, validity, and pleasure,
Than that confirm'd on Goneril.-Now, our joy,
Although the 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

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.
[Trumpets sound within

Enter LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL,
REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants.
Lear. Attend the lords of France and Bur-
Gloster.
[gundy,
Glo. I shall, my liege.
[Exeunt GLOSTER and EDMUND.
Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker

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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 daughter's 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 [daughters,

sojourn,

Cor. Nothing, my lord.
Lear. Nothing?

Cor. Nothing.

Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again.

Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot beave My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty According to my bond; nor more, nor less.

Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your
speech a little,

Lest it may mar your fortunes.
Cor. Good my lord,

You have begot ine, bred me, lov'd 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 this with thy heart!
Cor. Ay, good my lord.

Lear. So young, and so untender?
Cor. 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 operations of the orbs,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,

And here are to be answer'd.-Tell me, my And as a stranger to my heart and me

(Since now we will divest us, both of rule,
Interest of territory, cares of state,)

Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where merit doth most challenge it.-Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.

Gon. Sir, I

[matter

Do love you more than words can wield the
Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty,

honour:

As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found:
A love that makes breath poor, and speech

unable;

Beyond all manner of so much I love you.
Cor. What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be
silent.
[Aside.
from this

Lear. Of all these bounds, even
line to this,

With shadowy forests and with

rich'd,

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 reliev'd,
As thou my sometime daughter.

Kent. Good my liege,-
Lear. Peace, Kent!

Come not between the dragon and his wrath:
I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery.-Heuce, and avoid my
sight!-
[To CORDELIA.
So be my grave my peace, as here 1 give
Her father's heart from her -Call France ;~~
Who stirs ?

Call Burgundy,-Cornwall and Albany,
With my two daughter's dowers digest this

third:

Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. champains I do invest you jointly with my power, Pre-eminence, and all the large effects

With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, That troop with majesty.-Ourself, by monthly

We make thee lady: To thine and Albany's [daughter, second

issue

Be this perpetual.-What says our
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.
Reg. I am made of that self metal as my
sister,

And prize me at her worth. In my true heart,
I find she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short,-that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys,

[sesses;

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Which the most precious square of sense pos- whom I have ever honour'd as my king,,

And find I am alone felicitate §

In your dear highness' love.

Cor. Then poor Cordelia !

Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,

[Aside. As my great patron thought on in my prayers,Lear. The bow is bent and drawn, make

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;

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from the shaft.

• Valne.

t Interess'd, has the same meaning asinterested: thoug one is derived from the French, the other from the

Latin.

Kindred.

From this time.
Titles,

1 His children.

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