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You know the fiery quality of the Duke:
How unremovable, and fixt he is
In his own course.

Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confufion! -
Fiery? what fiery quality? why, Glofter,

I'd speak with th' Duke of Cornwall, and his wife.
Glo. Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them fo.
Lear. Inform'd them? doft thou understand me, man?
Glo. Ay, my good lord?

Lear. The King would fpeak with Cornwall, the dear father

Wou'd with his daughter fpeak;
Are they inform'd of this?

commands her service:

- 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 ftill neglect all office,

Whereto our health is bound; we're not our felves,

When Nature, being oppreft, commands the mind
To fuffer with the body. I'll forbear;

And am fall'n out with my more headier will,

To take the indifpos'd and fickly fit

For the found man.-Death on my state! but wherefore Should he fit here? this Act perfuades me,

That this remotion of the Duke and her

Is practice only. Give me my fervant forth;

Go, tell the Duke and's wife, I'd speak with them: Now, presently,. bid them come forth and hear me, Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum,

you.

[Exit.

"Till it cry, fleep to death. Glo. I would have all well betwixt Lear. Oh me, my heart! my rifing heart! but down. Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the Eels, when she put them i' th' Pafty alive; the rapt 'em o'th' coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd, down wantons, down; Twas her brother, that in pure kindness to his horfe butter'd his hay.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Glo'ster, and Servants. Lear. Good morrow to you both.

Corn. Hail to your Grace! [Kent is fet at liberty.

Reg

Reg. I am glad to see your Highness.

Lear. Regan, I think, you are; I know, what reafo I have to think fo; if thou wert not glad,

I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb,
Sepulchring an adult'refs. O, are you free? [To Kent.
Some other time for that. Beloved Regan,
Thy fifter's naught: oh Regan, fhe hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture here;

[Points to his heart.

I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe,
With how deprav'd a quality

oh Regan!

Reg. I pray you, Sir, take patience; I have Hope; You lefs know how to value her defert,

Than the to scant her duty.

Lear. Say? How is that?

Reg. I cannot think, my fifter in the leaft
Would fail her obligation. If, perchance,
She have reftrain'd the riots of your followers;
'Tis on fuch ground, and to fuch wholesom end,
As clears her from all blame.

Lear. My curfes on her!

Reg. O Sir, you are old,

Nature in you ftands on the very verge
Of her confine; you should be rul'd and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you your Self: therefore, I pray you,
That to our fifter you do make return;
Say, you have wrong'd her, Sir.

Lear. Ask her forgiveness?

Do you but mark, how this becomes the Ufe? (9)

(9) Do you but mark how this becomes the Houfe?] This Phrafe to me is unintelligible, and seems to fay nothing to the purpofe: Neither can it mean, as I conceive, how this becomes the Order of Families. Lear would certainly intend to reply, how does asking my Daughters Forgivenefs become me as a Father, and agree with common Fashion, the establish'd Rule and Custom of Nature? It feems, therefore, no Doubt to me, but the Poet wrote, as I have alter'd the Text. And that ShakeSpeare employs Ufe in this Signification, is too obvious to want a Proof.

Dear

Dear daughter, I confess, that I am old;
Age is unneceffary: On my knees I beg,

That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.
Reg. Good Sir, no more; these are unfightly tricks:
Return you to my sister.

Lear. Never, Regan:

She hath abated me of half my train;

Look'd blank upon me; ftruck me with her tongue (10) Moft ferpent-like, upon the very heart.

All the ftor'd vengeances of heaven fall

On her ingrateful Top! ftrike 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 beauty,

You fen-fuck'd fogs, drawn by the pow'rful fun
To fall, and blast her pride.

Reg. O the bleft Gods!

So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is on.
Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse:
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give

Thee o'er to harshness; her eyes are fierce, but thine
Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hafty words, to fcant my fizes,
And, in conclufion, to oppose the bolt
Againft my coming in. Thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of child-hood,
Effects of courtefie, dues of gratitude:
Thy half o'th' Kingdom thou haft not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd.

Reg. Good Sir, to th' purpose.
Lear. Who put my man i' th' Stocks?

[Trumpet within.

(10) Look'd black upon me,] This is a Phrase which I do not understand; neither have I any where else met with it. But to look blank is a known Expreffion, fignifying, either to give dif couraging Looks to another, or to stand difmay'd and difappointed one's-felf. The Poet means here, that Gonerill gave bim cold Looks, as he before phrases it in this play.

Enter

Enter Steward.

Corn. What trumpet's that?

Reg. I know't, my fifter's: this approves her letter, That fhe would foon be here. Is your lady come? Lear. This is a flave, whofe eafie-borrowed pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. Out, varlet, from my fight.

Corn. What means your Grace?

Enter Gonerill.

Lear. Who stockt my Tervant? Regan, I've good hope, Thou didst not know on't.

'O Heav'ns,

Who comes here?

If you do love old men, if your sweet sway, (11)
Hallow obedience, if your felves are old,

Make it your caufe; fend down, and take my part.
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?

O Regan, will you take her by the hand?

Gon. Why not by th' hand, Sir? how have I offended? All's not offence, that indifcretion finds,

And dotage terms fo.

Lear. O fides, you are too tough!

Will you yet hold? -how came my man i' th' Stocks!

Corn. I fet him there, Sir: but his own disorders Deferv'd much lefs advancement.

Lear. You? did you?

Reg. I pray you, Father, being weak, seem fo.
If, 'till the expiration of your month,

You will return and fojourn with my fifter,
Difmiffing half your train, come then to me;
I'm now from home, and out of that provision

(11)

if your feet fway

Allow Obedience,] Could any Man in his Senfes, and Lear has 'em yet, make it a Question whether Heaven allow'd Obedience? Undoubtedly, the Poet wrote •Hallow Obedience; i. e. if by your Ordinances you hold and pronounce it fanétified; and punish the Violators of it as facrilegious Perfons. Mr. Warburton.

Which fhall be needful for your entertainment.
Lear. Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and chufe (12)
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl;
To wage, against the enmity o' th' air,
Neceffity's fharp pinch

Return with her?

Why, the hot-blooded France, that dow'rless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and 'Squire-like penfion beg,
To keep base life a-foot; Return with her?
Perfuade me rather to be flave, and fumpter,
To this detefted groom.

Gon. At your choice, Sir.

Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad :
I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewel;
We'll no more meet, no more fee one another;
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter,
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,

Which I muft needs call mine; thou art a bile,
A plague-fore, or imboffed carbuncle,

In my corrupted blood; but I'll not chide thee.
Let fhame 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 canft; be better at thy leifure.
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan;
I, and my hundred Knights.

Reg. Not altogether fo;

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided your fit welcome; give ear to my filter;

For

(12)

and chufe To wage against the enmity o' the Air,

To be a Comrade with the Wolf and Owl,

Neceffity's fharp Pinch.] The Breach of the Senfe here is a manifeft Proof, that these Lines were tranfpos'd by the first Editors: Neither can there be any Syntax or Grammatical Coherence, unless we fuppofe Neceffity's fharp Pinch to be the Accufative to wage. As I have plac'd the Verfes, the Senfe is fine and easy; and the Sentence compleat and finish'd,

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