Bel. So sure as you your father's. 1, old] Why fled you from the court? and whither ?
Morgan,
These,

Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: And your three motives to the battle, with
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my puu-I know not how much more, should be de

ishment

Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd,
Was all the haria 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
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious
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
Fall 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,

Will serve our long intergatories. See,
Posthumus 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, lachimo: 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.

derius ;

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?

Arv. 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.
Cym. O rare instinct!

When shall I hear all through? This fierce
abridgment

Hath to it circumstantial branches, which Distinction should be rich in. t-Where? liv'd you?

And when came you to serve our Roman
tive ?
How parted with your brothers? how first
them?

Vehement, rapid.

how

met

Jach. I am down again:

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

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

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
Of mine own kindred: when I wak’d, I fɔund
This label on my bosom; whose containing
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

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

• Ghostly appearances.

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 accumalated injuries, and his own strong feelings of sorrow and indignation, are exquisitely drawn. The daughteri 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?
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.

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 husband for her bed. 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 Handsome.

in my account: though this knave came some-1 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 sport at his making, and the whoreson must be love acknowledged. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund ?

Glo. My lord of Kent: remember him here- A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. after as my honourable friend.

Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork in-If anght within that little seeming substance, vade

The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly,
When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old

Thy banish d trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death: Away! By Jupiter,
This shall not be revok'd.

Kent. Fare thee well, king: since thus thou
wilt appear,

Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.-
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
[To CORDELIA.
That justly think'st, and has most rightly said!
And your large speeches may your deeds approve,
[To REGAN and GONERIL.
That good effects may spring from words of

Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
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, iny noble

Lear. My lord of Burgundy,

We first address towards you, who with this
king

[least,
Hath rival'd for our daughter; What, in the
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love? §

I crave no more than hath your highness offer'd, Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my