Look'd blank upon me; ftruck me with her tongue, (19),
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart,
All the stor'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 blest gods !
So will you wish on me, when the rash mood is en.

Lear. No, Regan, thoa fhalt never have my curse: Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give (20)

Thee

(19) Look'd black upon mo,] This is a phrase which I do not underAand, neither have I any where else met with it. But to look blank is a known expression, rignifying, either to give discouraging looks to another, or to stand dismay'd and disappointed one's-self. The poet, means here, that Regan gave him (old looks, as he before phrases it in this play. In Hamlet, he has chang’d the adjective into a verb;

Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy. Milton (a ftudious imitator not only of our poet's words, but phrases;) often uses blank in our author's sense here;

There without sign of boast, or sign of joy,
Sollicitous and blank, he thus began. Par. Reg. B. 2.
, And with confufion blank his worshippers. Sampl. Agonift.

And noble grace, that dash'd brute violence;
With sudden adoration and blank awę,

Masque at Ludlow-Caflle.
Adam, soon as he heard
The fatal trespass done by Eve, amaz'd,
Aftonied stood and blank.

Par. loft. B. 9. And in another passage, with an equivalent expression;

Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face. Ibid. B. 4. (20) Thy tender-hearted nature] This, as I presume, was Mr. Pope's sophistication; I have restored from the old copies, tender-befied; (which, I am satisfied, was the poet's word) i. e, whose burom is beav'd with tender passions. So in Winter's Tale.

But if one present
Th’abhor'd ingredient to his eye make known
How he hath drunk, be cracks his gorge, his fides,

With violent beftso
VOL. VI,

And

'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 conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in. Thou better know'it
The òffices of nature, bond of child-hood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude :
Thy half o'th' Kingdom thou hast not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd,

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

Enter Steward. Corn. What trumpet's that?

Reg. I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter, That she would soon be here.

Is your Lady come ? Lear. This is a flave, whose easy-borrowed pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. Out, varlet, from my sight. Corn. What means your Grace?

Enter Gonerill. Lear, Who stockt my servant? Regan, I've good hope, Thou didft not know on't. - Who comes here? O Heav'ns, If you do love old men, if your sweet sway (21) Hallow obedience, if yourselves are old,

Make And again afterwards in the same play;

-Tis such as you,
That creep like shadows by him, and do figh

At each his needless heavings.
So, fpeaking of Cordelia's grief, in our present play,

Once, or twice,
She beau'd the name of father

Panting'y forth.
And so the Daupbin, in King Jobr.

Litt up thy brow, renowned Salifoury;

And with a great heart beave a way this storm. (21)

--- if your sweet sway Allow clodience, ) Could any man in his fenses, and Lear has 'em yet, Ouake it a question whether heaven allow'd obedience? undoubtedly,

the

Make it your cause; send 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 indiscretion finds,
And dotage terms fo.

Lear. O fides, you are too tough! Will you yet holdi-how came my man i' th' Stocks?

Corn. I set him there, Sir: but his own disorders Deserv'd much less advancement.

Lear. You? did you ?

Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, feem fo.
If, 'till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my fifter,
Dismissing half

your train, come then to me; I'm now from home, and out of that provision Which shall be needful for your entertainment.

Lear. Return to her and fifty men dismiss’d?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and chuse (22)
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl;
To wage, against the enmity o'th' air,
Neceflity'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?
Persuade me rather to be slave, and sumpter,
To this détested groom.

Gon. At your choice, Sir.

-and chule

the poet wrote---

---hallow obedience,..-.i. e. if by your ordinances you hold and pronounce it fanftified; and puniíh the violators of it as sacrilegious persons.

Mr. Warburton. (22) To

wage against the enmity o'ib' air, To be a comrade with the wolf and ovul, Neceffuy's fharp pircb.] The breach of the sense here is a manifer proof, that these lines were transpos’d by the first editors : Neither can there be any fyntax or grammatical coherence, unless we suppose Necesity's sharp pinch to be the accusative to wage. As I've plac'd the verses, the sense is fine and easy; and the sentence compleat and fipihd. C 2

Lear:

Lear. I prythee, daughter, do not make me mad,
I will not trouble thee, my child. Farewel ;
We'll no more meet, ro more fee one anoi her ;
But yet thou art my feth, my blood, my daughter,
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine; thou art a bile,
A plague-fore, or imbofled carbuncle,
In my corrupted blood; but I'll not chide thee,
Let Thame 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 Juve.
Mend, when thou can'ft; be better, at thy leisure,
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan;
1, and my hundred Knights.

Reg. Not altogether so;
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome; give ear to my fifter ;
For those that mingle reason with your passion,
Must be content to think you old, and som
But she knows what she does.

Lear. Is this well spoken:

Reg. I dare avouch'it, Sir; what, fifty followers? Is it not well? what should you need of more? Yea, or so many since both charge and danger Speak 'gainst so great a number : how in one house Should many people under two commands Hold amity? 'uis hard, almost impossible.

Gon. Why might not you, my Lord, receive attendance From those that the calls feryants, or from mine?

Reg. Why not, my Lord ? if then they chanc'd to
We could controul them; if you'll come to me,
(For now I spy 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 reservation to be followid

ilack ye,

With such a number; muft I come to you
With five and twenty? Regan, faid you fo?
Reg. And speak't again, my Lord, no more with me

Lear. Thosewicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd,
When others are more wicked: Not being worst,
Stands in some rank of praise; I'll go with chee;
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 house, where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?

Reg. What needs one?

Lear. O, reason not the need: our baseft beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous ; Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beakts. 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 see me bere, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age; wretched in both! If it be you, that ftir these daughters hearts Against their father, fool me not so 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 sense, and drift, and coherence of this petition. For if the gods fent this afliction for his punishment, how could he expect thac they would defeat their own design, and aflit him to revenge his injuries by touching bim with noble anger? This question cannot wellbe answer'd, without going a little further than ordinary for the soJution. 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: first, they inflamed the breasts of the children to unnatural acts against their parents; and then, of theparents against their children; that they might destroy one another : and that both these outrages were the acts of the gods. To confider

C3

Lear