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I have done the state some service, and they
know it;

No more of that:-I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you
speak

Of one that lov'd not wisely, but too well;
Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand,
Like the base Júdean, threw a pearl away,
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdu'd
Albeit unused to the melting mood, [eyes,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicínal gum: Set you down this:
And say, besides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him-thus.

[Stabs himself.

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but this,

[Falling upon DES.

Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Dies.
Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no
weapon;
For he was great of heart.
Lod.
O Spartan dog,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look on the tragic loading of this bed; [To IAGO.
This is thy work: the object poisons sight;
Let it be hid.-Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they succeed to you.-To you, lord gov-
ernor,

Remains the censure of this hellish villain;
The time, the place, the torture,-O enforce it!
Myself will straight aboard; and, to the state,
This heavy act with heavy heart relate. [Exeunt.

INTRODUCTION TO KING LEAR. PARENTAL affection is the most noble and least selfish feeling of our nature; and the wanton outrage of it by monstrous ingratitude, would not unnaturally suggest itself to a poet as a fit subject for a great drama; and Shakespeare, in working out this idea, has produced the most harrowing and painful tragedy extant.

to her father is cold and unpleasing; her reiterated nothing smacks of the obstinacy of her parent's nature; but she is, perhaps, influenced by a disgust at the hypocritical pretensions and fulsome adulations of her sisters.

Lear is an incorporation of two distinct stories; that of Gloster and his sons (which is an episode not strictly connected with the dotage and death of the aged monarch) is borrowed from The pitifull State and Storie of the Paphlagonian unkinde King, and his kind Son, in the second book of Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, a work which there is sufficient evidence to prove that Shakespeare had read, if even he could have been supposed ignorant of a production of so much celebrity. That of the aged monarch himself, and his unnatural children, was built upon a relation of the circumstance in Holinshed's Chronicle; who, in his turn, copied Geoffrey of Monmouth, who says that Lear was the eldest son of Bladud; that he governed his country for sixty years, and died about eight hundred years before the birth of Christ.

Shakespeare's play was produced in 1605, or, according to Mr. Douce, in 1604, when the poet was in the very midsummer of existence, and the full maturity of his strength; when his powers of observation had been confirmed by experience; and the spirit of poetry, having gone beyond the beautiful, had ascended to the sublime; for of this tragedy it may be justly said, that the genius of antiquity bows before it, and moderns gaze upon it with awe. It contains so many strongly-drawn characters, so much worldly wisdom, and so many passages of an exquisite and sublime poetry, that it would seem as if the bard had, in the production of it, attempted to dazzle and confuse the minds of men with floods of mental beauty. The listening mind pants breathless after the fiery muse of the poet, and conception stands trembling and aghast. Yet it is not without its errors. Mr. Coleridge has thought it necessary to apologise for the improbability of the first scene, which he excuses merely because he says, "it was an old story rooted in the popular faith." Beautiful as the character of Cordelia afterwards appears. she does not attract us at the first: her answer

The character of Lear is grand in the extreme; the choleric yet affectionate old king, jealous of his dignity, brooking no insult, rash and impetuous, blind to everything but momentary feeling, and heedless of all results-casts from his bosom his only affectionate child, and bestows his kingdom upon his two treacherous daughters, whose fiendish ingratitude robs him of the little which he had reserved to himself, and drives him forth to meet the midnight storm, and expose his white head to the "oak-cleaving thunder-bolts :" he wanders about in his pathless way until his mind is disturbed; and the impetuous, dishonoured king, and broken-hearted father, becomes by degrees mad, from dwelling too intently on the monstrous ingratitude of his children. He is at length rescued from the frightful destitution and misery to which he had been abandoned; but it is too late; the blow has been inflicted: the shock was too great to permit of his recovery; and, as Schlegel eloquently observes, "all that now remains to him of life is the capability of loving and suffering beyond measure."

Some critics, amongst whom was Dr. Johnson, contended that the termination was too tragical for endurance, and that poetical justice was violated by the ultimate death of Lear and his daughter Cordelia: the sublime tragedy of Shakespeare was therefore banished from the stage, and Tate's corrupt version, in which the scenes are most unnecessarily transposed, altered, and interspersed with silly bombast and vapid puerility, was substituted in its stead; Lear was saved, and Cordelia retired with victory and happiness. A modern critic, in allusion to this, exclaims: "A happy ending!-as if the living martyrdom that he had gone through, the flaying of his feelings alive, did not make a fair dismissal from the stage of life the only decorous thing for him. If he is to live and be happy after if he could sustain this world's burthen after-why all this pudder and preparation? why torment us with all this unnecessary sympathy? As if the childish pleasure of getting his gilt robes and sceptre again, could tempt him to act over again

| Lear, in the disorder of his mind, is struck with the strange disparity in human fortunes and sufferings; he had been somewhat despotic in his sanity, but he turns reformer in his madness, and babbles about the abuses of authority. Nowhere has Shakespeare drawn characters so alike as the two unnatural daughters of Lear: both selfish, ambitious, and overbearing; both guilty of the blackest ingratitude to their aged father, and even seeking his life; both, by a natural sequence, false to their husbands; both attached to the same paramour; and both dying by violence and in despair.

Shakespeare always vindicates the justice of God's providence: tyrants live hated and in fear, and die unpitied and in blood. The crafty perish by craft; the murderous and the treacherous live in a hell on earth; the wicked are heaven's instruments against themselves; and nature is eternally at war with sin. Thus with Regan and Goneril-they lead a life of conjunctive wickedness; carry on a partnership of devilry; and then growing jealous each of the other, Goneril poisons Regan, and then stabs herself.

his misused station-as if, at his years and with his experience, anything was left but to die." Tate also cut out of his adaptation of Shakespeare's tragedy the character of the Fool; which was much the same as if some modern dauber should paint out the sunlight from a landscape of Claude's. We feel more than a common interest for this jester on account of his strong attachment to Lear and his family; he is also a great favourite of the aged king is a wise counsellor, and, though a bitter satirist, is faithful to the old man through all his persecutions, and is hanged at last for his adherence to the cause of his deposed master. He never forgets his character; reverse of fortune makes him satirical, but never serious; he talks with a purpose, and strives to arouse the old monarch to re-assert his rank and condition, and enforce the respect due to it. The fourth scene in the third act is extremely grand: the real madness of Lear, the assumed madness of Edgar, and the quaint pithy sayings of the Fool, make a strange and almost startling picture. The very idea of bringing such characters together is a fine one, and would scarcely have occurred to any other author. The assumed insanity of Edgar is grandly contrasted with the real mental disorder of Lear. The latter never loses sight of the real cause of his misfortunes. When Edgar first enters, personating the bedlamite, the aged king exclaims in tones of pity: "What, have his daughters brought him to this pass? [them all?" Could'st thou save nothing? Didst thou give And when the Fool asks him whether a madman "The wheel is come full circle; I am here." be a gentleman or a yeoman ?—with a vivid sense We can never escape this; it is a law of our being of his own rashness, he answers, "A king, a king!" which we cannot evade or shake off: if in any But Edgar never alludes to the cause of his sup- way we disturb another's peace, we murder our posed madness, never forgets that he has a part own. It has been said, the dice of God are always to play; and the poet, with an exquisite observ-loaded; there are no chance casts: and this docance of nature, makes him, in his anxiety to pre- trine our Shakespeare never loses sight of; it is inserve his disguise, rather over-act the part: he is deed wonderfully prominent in Lear: and the aged too learned; we see something of the gentleman monarch himself, much as we sympathise with through all the rags and mouthing of the assumed him, is but suffering the punishment-a dreadful idiot. He is familiar with quaint traditions and one, it is true-for his unjust partiality to his elder odd tales of fiends and witches, which the real daughters, and his passionate and cruel desertion wandering idiot would never have thought of. of his youngest child.

LEAR, King of Britain.
KING OF FRANCE.
DUKE OF BURGUNDY.
DUKE OF CORNWALL.

DUKE OF ALBANY.

EARL OF KENT.

EARL OF GLOSTER.

Shakespeare's philosophy is a stern one: he is an impressive preacher of the doctrine of compensation-compensation to all, and for all deedsevil for evil-good for good. Edgar, though a pagan, recognises this in these lines :

"The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to scourge us." And the dying villain Edmund admits this truth, and exclaims

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EDGAR, Son to Gloster.

EDMUND, Bastard Son to Gloster.

CURAN, a Courtier.

Old Man, Tenant to Gloster.
Physician.

Act First.
SCENE I.

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A Room of State in KING LEAR'S Palace.
Enter KENT, GLOSTER, and EDMUND.
Kent. I THOUGHT the king had more affected
the Duke of Albany, than Cornwall.

Glo. It did always seem so to us: but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most; for equalities are so weighed, that curiosity* in neither oan make choice of either's moiety.t

* Most scrupulous nicety. + Part or division

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord? Glo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it. Do you smell a fault? Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the 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 in my account:-Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ?

Edm. No, my lord.

Glo. My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my honourable friend.

Edm. My services to your lordship. [better. Kent. I must love you, and sue to know you Edm. Sir, I shall study deserving. Glo. He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again :-The king's coming.

Which the most precious square+ of sense pos-
And find, I am alone felicitate +
[sesses;
In your dear highness' love.
Čor.

Then poor Cordelia! [Aside. 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 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 A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. Cor. Nothing, my lord.

Lear. Nothing?

Cor. Nothing.

[again.

Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak
Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty
According to my bond; nor more nor less.
Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your speech
Bur-Lest it may mar your fortunes.
[a little,
Cor.

[Trumpets sound within. Enter LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants. Lear. Attend the lords of France and gundy, Gloster. Glo. I shall, my liege. [Exeunt GLO. and EDM. Lear. Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. [divided, Give me the map there.-Know, that we have 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 towards death.-Our son of Cornwall,

And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters' 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 so-
journ,
[ters,
And here are to be answer'd.-Tell me, my daugh-
(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

[ter,

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

honour:

Good my lord,

You have begot me, 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. [dower:
Lear. Let it be so,-Thy truth then be thy
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 as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee, from this, for ever.

Scythian,

The barbarous

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.

As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found.
A love that makes breath poor, and speech un-I
able;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.
Cor. What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be
silent.
[Aside.
Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line
to this,
[rich'd,
With shadowy forests and with champains*
With plenteous rivers, and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lady: To thine and Albany's
issue
[daughter,
Be this perpetual. What says our second
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,

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Kent.

Lear. Peace, Kent!

Good my liege,—

Come not between the dragon and his wrath :
lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery.-Hence, and avoid my
sight!-
[TO COR.
So 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 [course,
That troop with majesty.-Ourself, by monthly
With reservation of a 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 the additions ++ to a king;
The sway,

Revenue, execution of the rest,

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Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm,
This coronet part between you.

[Giving the Crown.
Kent.
Royal Lear,
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Lov'd 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 would'st thou do, old man?

Think'st thou, that duty shall have dread to speak, When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound,

When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom; And, in thy best consideration, check [ment, This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgThy 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. Lear. Now, by Apollo,Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. Lear.

O vassal! miscreant!
[Laying his Hand on his Sword.
Alb., Corn. Dear sir, forbear.
Kent. Do;

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

Hear me, recreant ! On thine allegiance, hear me !Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, (Which we durst never yet,) and, with strain'd pride,

To come betwixt our sentence and our power;
(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,)
Our potency make good, take thy reward.
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 revok'd.
[wilt appear,

Kent. Fare thee well, king: since thus thou Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, [To COR. That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said! And your large speeches may your deeds approve, [To REG. and GON. That good effects may spring from words of Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu; [love.He'll shape his old course in a country new. [Exit. Re-enter GLOSTER; with FRANCE, BURGUNDY, and Attendants. Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my noble Lear. My lord of Burgundy, [lord. We first address towards you, who with this king Hath rivall'd for our daughter; What, in the least,

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Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love?
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 piec'd,
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace,
She's there, and she is yours.
I know no answer.

Bur.

Lear. Sir,

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I tell you all her wealth.-For you, great king,
[To FRANCE.

I would not from your love make such a stray,
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
To avert your liking a more worthier way,
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham❜á
Almost to acknowledge hers.
France.
This is most strange!
That she, that even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of
time

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 into taint: which to believe of her,
Must be a faith, that reason without miracle
Could never plant in me.

Cor.
I yet beseech your majesty,
(If for? I want that glib and oily art, [tend,
To speak and purpose not; since what I well in-
I'll do 't before I speak,) that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,
No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour.
But even for want of that, for which I am richer;
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
That 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 to have pleas'd 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 is not love," When it is mingled with respects, that stand Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? She is herself a dowry.

Bur.

Royal Lear, Give but that portion which yourself propos'd, And here I take Cordelia by the hand, Duchess of Burgundy.

Lear. Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm. Bur. I am sorry 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. [being poor;

France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd! Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon : Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away.

Gods, gods! 'tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect

My love should kindle to inflam'd respect.-
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my
chance,

Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:
Not all the dukes of wat'rish Burgundy
Shall buy this unpriz'd 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 benizon.*-
Come, noble Burgundy.

[Flourish. Exeunt LEAR, BUR., Corn., Alb., GLO., and Attend.

France. Bid farewell to your sisters.

Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are;
And, like a sister, am most loath to call [father:
Your faults, as they are nam'd. Use well our
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.

Gon. Prescribe not us our duties.
Reg.

Let your study
Be, to content your lord; who hath receiv'd you
At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you have
wanted.
[hides;
Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited cunning
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
Well may you prosper!
France.

Come, my fair Cordelia. [Exeunt FRANCE and COR. Gon. Sister, it is not a 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 us.

Gon. You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been little he always 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.

| Stand in the plague of custom; and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me, [shines
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-
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?-Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund,
As to the legitimate: Fine word,-legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper :-
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

Enter GLOSter.

Glo. Kent banish'd thus! And France in choler parted! [power! And the king gone to-night! subscrib'd his Confin'd to exhibition! All this done [news? Upon the gad!¶-Edmund! How now? what Edm. So please your lordship, none.

[Putting up the Letter. Glo. Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?

Edm. I know no news, my lord.
Glo. What paper were you reading?
Edm. Nothing, my lord.

Glo. No? What needed then that terrible despatch 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'erread; for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your over-looking.

Glo. Give me the letter, sir.

Edm. I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are Glo. Let's see, let's see. [to blame.

Edm. I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but as an essay** or taste of my virtue.

Glo. [Reads.]" This policy, and reverence of age, makes the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us, till our oldand fond++ bondage in the oppression of aged ness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath tyranny; who sways, not as it hath power, but been but rash; then must we look to receive speak more. If our father would sleep till I as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I may from his age, not alone the imperfections of long-waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue engrafted condition,+ but, therewithal, the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years for ever, and live the beloved of your brother, bring with them.

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"EDGAR."

Humph-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 brought it?

Edm. It was not brought me, my lord, there's the cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.

Glo. 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. Glo. It is his.

Edm. It is his hand, my lord; but, I hope, his heart is not in the contents. [this business? Glo. Hath he never heretofore sounded you in

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