With fuch a number; muft I come to you
With five and twenty? Regan, faid you fo?

Reg. And fpeak't again, my Lord, no more with me. Lear. Thofe wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd, When others are more wicked: Not being worf,

Stands in fome rank of praife: I'l 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 houfe, where twice fo many
Have a command to tend you?

Reg. What needs one?

Lear. O, reafon not the need: our bafeft beggars Are in the pooreft thing fuperfluous;

Allow not nature more than nature needs,

Man's life is cheap as beats. Thou art a Lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,

Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'ft,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm; but for true need,
You heav'ns, give me that patience which I need!
You fee 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 fo much.

To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger; (23)

(23) touch me with noble anger.] It would puzzle one at first, to find the fenfe, and drift, and coherence of this petition. For if the gods fent this affliction for his punishment, how could he expect that they would defeat their own defign, and afflift him to revenge his injuries by touching him with noble anger? This question cannot wellbe answered, without going a little further than ordinary for the folution. We may be affured then, that Shakespeare had here in his mind those opinions the ancient poets held of the misfortunes of particular families. They tell us, that when the anger of the gods (for any act of impiety) was rais'd against an offending family, that their method of punishment was this: firft, they inflamed the breasts of the children to unnatural acts against their parents; and then, of the parents against their children; that they might deftroy one another : and that both these outrages were the acts of the gods. To confider Lear

C 3

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 flefh, my blood, my daughter,
Or rather a difeafe that's in my fieth,

Which I must 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 can'ft; be better, at thy leifure.
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan;
I, and my hundred Knights.

Reg. Not altogether io;

I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome; give ear to my fifter;
For thofe that mingle reafon with your paffion,
Must be content to think you old, and fo-
But he knows what she does.

Lear. Is this well-fpoken ?

Reg. I dare avouch it, Sir; what, fifty followers? Is it not well? what fhould you need of more ? Yea, or fo many? fince both charge and danger Speak 'gainft fo great a number: how in one house Should many people under two commands Hold amity? 'tis hard, almoft impoffible.

Gon. Why might not you, my Lord, receive attendance From thofe that he calls fervants, or from mine?

Reg. Why not, my Lord? if then they chanc'd to

flack ye,

We could controul them; if you'll come to me,

(For now I fpy a danger) I intreat 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 depofitaries; But kept a refervation to be follow'd

Corn. "Tis beft to give him way, he leads himfelf.
Gon. My Lord, intreat him by no means to stay.

Glo. Alack, the night comes on: and the high winds Do forely ruffle, for many miles about

There's icarce a bush.

Reg. O Sir, to wilful men,

The injuries, that they themselves procuré,
Must be their school-mafters: fhut up your doors

He is attended with a desp❜rate train ;

And what they may incenfe him to, being apt

To have his car abus'd, wifdom bids fear.

Corn. Shut up your doors, my Lord, 'tis a wild night.

My Regan counfels well: come out o'th' ftorm.

[Exeunt,

ACT III.

SCENE, a Heath.

form is beard with thunder and lightning. Enter Kent and a Gentleman, feverally.

W

KENT.

'HO's there, besides foul weather ?

Gent. One minded like the weather, moft unquietly.

Kent, I know you, where's the King?

Gent. Contending with the fretful elements;

Bids the wind blow the earth into the fea;

Or fwell the curled waters 'bove the main,

That things might change, or ceafe: tears his white hair,
(Which the impetuous blafts with eyeless rage
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of.)
Strives in his little World of Man t' outfcorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.

This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,

C 4

The

The lion, and the belly-pinched wolf

Keep their furr dry; unbonnetted 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-ftruck injuries.

Kent. Sir, I do know you,

And dare, upon the warrant of my note,

Commend a dear thing to you.

There's divifion

(Although as yet the face of it is cover'd

T

With mutual cunning) 'twixt Albany and Cornwall: Who have (as who have not, whom their great ftars (25) Thron'd and fet high?) fervants, who feem no less; Which are to France the fpies and fpeculations Intelligent of our state. What hath been seen, Either in fnuffs and packings of the Dukes; Or the hard rein which both of them have borne Against the old kind King; or fomething deeper, (Whereof, perchance, thefe are but furnishings) But true it is, from France there comes a power Into this fcatter'd kingdom; who already, Wife in our negligence, have fecret sea In fome of our best ports, and are at point *To fhew their open banner-Now to you, credit you Idare build fo far

If on my

To make your fpeed to Dover, you shall find
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding forrow
The King hath caufe to plain.

I am a gentleman of blood and breeding,
And from fome knowledge and affurance of you,
Offer this office.

Gent. I'll talk further with you.

Kent. No, do not:

(25) Who have, as who have not,] The eight fubfequent verfes were degraded by Mr. Pope as unintelligible, and to no purpose. For my part, I fee nothing in them but what is very easy to be underftood; and the lines feem abfolutely neceffary to clear up the motives, upon which France prepared his invafion; nor without them is the fenfe of the context compleat,

For

For confirmation that I am much more

Than my out-wall, open this purfe and take
What it contains. If you fhall fee Cordelia,
(As, fear not, but you fhall) fhew her that ring,
And she will tell you who this fellow is,

That yet you do not know. Fie on that ftorm!
I will go feek the King.

Gent. Give me your hand, have you no more to fay Kent. Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet; That, when we have found the King, (in which you take That way, I this :) he that first lights on him, Halloo the other.

[Exeunt feverally.

Storm fill. Enter Lear and fool.

Lear. Blow winds, and crack your cheeks ;rage, blow! You cataracts, and hurricanoes, fpout

"Till you have drencht out fteeples, drown'd the cocks!
You fulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunder-bolts,
Singe my white head. And thou all-fhaking thunder,.
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world;

Crack nature's mould, all germins fpill at once (26),
That make ingrateful man.

Fool.

(26) Crack nature's mould, all germains spill at once.] Thus all the editions have given us this paffage, and Mr. Pope has explain'd germains, to mean, relations, or kindred elements. Then it must have been germanes (from the Latin adjective, germanus ;) a word more than once ufed by our author, tho' always falfe fpelt by his editors. So, in Hamlet;

The phrafe would be more germane to the matter, if we could carry cannon by our fides:

And fo in Othello;

You'll have your nephews neigh to you; You'll have courfers for coufins, and gennets for germanes.

But the poet means here," Crack nature's mould, and spill all "the-feeds of mutter, that are hoarded within it." To retrieve which fenfe, we must write germins; (a fubftantive deriv'd from germen, opd as the old gloffaries expound it ;) and fo we must again in Macbeth;

-Tho' the treasure