SCENE, Regan's Palace. Enter Regan, and Steward. Reg. BUT are my brother's powers set forth ? Stew. Ay, madam. Reg. Himfelf in person there? Your fifter is the better foldier. Reg. Lord Edmund fpake not with your Lady at home? Reg. What might import my fifter's letter to him? Reg. Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. His nighted life: moreover to defcry The ftrength o' th' enemy. Stew. I muft needs after him, madam, with my letterke Reg. Our troops fet forth to-morrow: stay with us: The ways are dangerous. Stew. I may not, madam; My Lady charg'd my duty in this bufiness. Reg. Why fhould the write to Edmund? might not you Tranfport her purposes by word? belike, Something I know not what Let me unfeal the letter. Stew. Madam, I had rather I'll love thee much Reg, I know, your Lady does not love her husband Reg. I fpeak in understanding: you are; I know't My Lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd, Than Than for your Lady's: you may gather more: I If So farewel. you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. Stew. 'Would I could meet him, madam, I should fhew What party I do follow. Reg. Fare thee well. [Exeunt SCENE, the Country, near Dover. Enter Glo'fter, and Edgar, as a Peafant. Glo. W Hen fhall I come to th' top of that fame hill? Edg. You do climb up it now. Look, how Glo. Methinks, the ground is even. Edg. Horrible fteep. Hark, do you hear the fea? Glo. No, truly.. [we labour. Edg. Why then your other fenfes grow imperfect By your eyes anguish. Glo. So may it be, indeed. Methinks, thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'ft Edg. You're much deceiv'd: in nothing am I chang'd, But in my garments. Glo. Sure, you're better spoken. [fearful Edg. Come on, Sir, here's the place--ftand ftill. How And dizzy 'tis, to caft one's eyes fo low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Left Left my brain turn, and the deficient fight Glo. Set me, where you ftand." Edg. Give me your hand you're now within a foot Of th' extream verge: for all below the moon Would I not leap upright. 5: Glo. Let go my hand : Here, friend, 's another purfe, in it a jewel Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies, and gods, Bid me farewel, and let me hear thee going. Glo. With all my heart. [Seems to go Edg. Why do I trifle thus with his despair? 'Tis done to cure it. Glo. O you mighty gods!. This world I do renounce; and in your fights Now, fellow, fare thee well. [He leaps and falls along And yet I know not how conceit may rob The treafury of life, when life itfelf Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought, By this, had thought been paft.Alive or dead? Glo. Away, and let me die. Edg. Had'ft thou been aught but gofs' mer, feathers, air, So many fathom down precipitating, Thoa'd'ft fhiver'd like an egg: but thou doft breathe, Haft heavy fubftance, bleed'ft not; fpeak, art found? Ten mafts at each make not the altitude, (47) Which (47) Ten mafis attach'd-] This is Mr. Pope's reading; but I know not from what authority. Mr. Rowe gave it us, ten mats at lea Which thou haft perpendicularly fall'n. Edg. From the dread fummit of this chalky bourn Look up a height, the fhrill-gorg'd Lark fo far Cannot be feen or heard: do but look up. Glo. Alack, I have no eyes. Is wretchednefs depriv'd that benefit, To end itself by death? 'twas yet fome comfort, Edg. Give me your arm. Up, fo-how is't? feel you your legs? you ftand. Edg. This is above all ftrangenefs. Upon the crown o' th' cliff, what thing was that, Glo. A poor unfortunate beggar. Edg. As I ftood here below, methought, his eyes Were two full moons; he had a thousand nofes, Horns welk'd, and wav'd like the enridged fea: It was fome hand. Therefore, thou happy father, Think,that the cleareft gods, who make them honours(48) Of men's impoffibilities, have preferv'd thee. Glo. I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear Affliction, 'till it do cry out itself, Enough, inough, and die. That thing you fpeak of, The fiend, the fiend he led me to that place. Enter Lear, dreft madly with Flowers. But who comes here ? leaft---a poor, dragging expreffion. All the old copies read, as I have reftor'd in the text, ten mafts at each.. 'Tis certain, 'tis a bold phrafe, but I dare warrant, it was our author's; and means, ten mafts placed at the extremity of each other. (48) Think, that the dearest gods---] This too is Mr. Pope's reading. All the authentick copies have it, cleareft gods; i. e. open, and righteous, in their dealings. So, our author again, in his Timenz Roots, ye clear beav'ns! The The fafer fenfe will ne'er accommodate His mafter thus. Lear. No, they cannot touch me for coining: I am the King himself. Edg. O thou fide piercing fight! Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. There's your prefs-money. (49) That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace;-this piece of toasted cheese will do't-there's my gauntlet, I'll prove it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown, Barb! (50) i' th' clout, i' th' clout: hewgh.-Give the word. Edg. Sweet marjoram, Glo. I know that voice. Lear. Ha! Gonerill! hah! Regan! they flatter'd me (49) That fellow bandles his bow like a cow-keeper.] Thus Mr. Pope in his laft edition; but I am afraid, I betray'd him into the error by an abfurd conjecture of my own, in my SHAKESPEARE reftored. 'Tis certain we must read crowo-keeper here; as likewife in this paffage of Romeo and Juliet: We'll have no Cupid hooded with a fcarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the Ladies like a crow-keeper. And, it seems, in feveral counties to this day, they call a stuff'd figure, reprefenting a man, and arm'd with a bow and arrow, (fet up to fright the crows, and other birds of prey, from the fruit and corn;} a crowo-keeper; as well as a fcare-crow. To fome fuch figure our author again alludes in Measure for Measure. We must not make a scare-erowo of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one fhape, 'till cuftom make it Their perch, and not their terror, But Beaumont and Fletcher in their Bonduca have a paffage which will excellently well explain our author's reading. -Can these fight? They look Like empty scabbards all; no metal in 'em: Like men of clouts, let to keep crocus from orebards; (50) O well flown bird,] Lear is here raving of archery, and shooting at buts, as is plain by the words i' th' clout, that is, the white mark they fet up and aim at: hence the phrafe, to hit the white. So that we must certainly read, O well-flown, barb! i. e. the barbed, or bearded arrow. Mr. Warburton. |