Alb. The weight of this fad time we must obey, Speak what we feel, not what we ought to fay. The oldeft hath borne moft; we, that are young, Shall never fee fo much, nor live fo long. 3 Ab. The Weight of this fad Time, &c.] This Speech from the Authority of the Old Quarto is rightly placed to Albany: in the Edition by the Players it is given to Edgar, by whom, I doubt not, it was of HE Tragedy of Lear is [Exeunt with a dead march. Custom spoken. And the Cafe was this: He who played Edgar, being a more favourite Actor, than he who perfonated Albany; in fpite of Decorum, it was thought proper he should have the laft Word. THEOBALD. the age to which this ftory is Tdefervedly celebrated a referred, it will appear not fo mong the dramas of Shakespeare. On the feeming improbability of Lear's conduct it may be observed, that he is reprefented according to hiftories at that time vulgarly received as true. And perhaps And perhaps if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity and ignorance of unlikely as while we estimate Lear's manners by our own. Such preference of one daugh ter to another, or refignation of dominion on fuch conditions, would be yet credible, if told of a petty prince of Guinea or Madag fear. Shakespeare, indeed, by the mention of his Earls and Dukes, has given us the idea of times more civilifed, and of life regulated by fofter manners; and the truth is, that though he fo nicely difcriminates, and fo minutely defcribes the characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds the characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient and modern, English and foreign. My learned friend Mr. Warton, who has in the Adventurer very minutely criticised this play, remarks, that the inftances of cruelty are too favage and shocking, and that the intervention of Edmund deftroys the fimplicity of the ftory. Thefe objections may, I think, be answered, by repeating, that the cruelty of the daugh daughters is an hiftorical fact, to which the poet has added little, having only drawn it into feries by dialogue and action. But I am not able to apologise with equal plaufibility for the extrufion of Gloucefter's eyes, which feems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatick exhibition, and fuch as must always compel the mind to relieve its diftrefs by incredulity. Yet let it be remembered that our authour well knew what would please the audience for which he wrote. The injury done by Edmund to the fimplicity of the action is abundantly recompenfed by the addition of variety, by the art with which he is made to cooperate with the chief defign, and the opportunity which he gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the wicked fon with the wicked daughters, to imprefs this important moral, that villany is never at a ftop, that crimes lead to crimes, and at laft terminate in ruin. But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakespeare has fuffered the virtue of Cordelia to perish in a juft caufe, contrary to the natural ideas of juftice, to the hope of the reader, and, what is yet more ftrange, to the faith of chronicles. Yet this conduct is juftified by the Spectator, who blames Tate for giving Cordelia fuccefs and happinefs in his alteration, and declares, that, in his opinion, the tragedy has loft half its beauty, Dennis has remarked, whether justly or not, that, to fecure the favourable reception of Cato, the town was poisoned with much false and abominable criticifm, and that endeavours had been used to difcredit and decry poetical justice. A play in which the wicked profper, and the virtuous mifcarry, may doubtlefs be good, because it is a juft reprefentation of the common events of human life: but fince all reasonable beings naturally love justice, I cannot eafily be perfuaded, that the obfervation of juftice makes a play worfe; or, that if other excellencies are equal, the audience will not always rife better pleased from the final triumph of perfecuted virtue. In the prefent cafe the publick has decided. Cordelia, from the time of Tate, has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my fenfations could add any thing to the general fuffrage, I might relate, that I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revife them as an editor. There is another controversy among the criticks concerning this play. It is difputed whether the predominant image in Lear's difordered mind be the loss of his kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy, a very judicious critick, has evinced by induction of particular paffages, that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary fource of his diftrefs, and that the lofs of royalty affects him only as a fecondary and fubordinate evil; He obferves with great justnefs, that Lear would move our compaffion but little, did we not rather rather confider the injured father than the degraded king. The story of this play, except the episode of Edmund, which is derived, I think, from Sidney, is taken originally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom Hollin head generally copied; but perhaps immediately from an old historical ballad, of which I fhall infert the greater part. My reason for believing that the play was pofteriour to the ballad rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the ballad has no thing of Shakespeare's nocturnal tempeft, which is too ftriking to have been omitted, and that it follows the chronicle; it has the rudiments of the play, but nore of its amplifications: it first hinted Lear's madnefs, but did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the ballad added fomething to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more, if more had occurred to his mind, and more must have occurred if he had feen ShakeSpeare. King Lear once ruled in this land The writer then proceeds with Lear's questions to his daughters, and their anfwers, according to the hiftories, and very nearly according to Shakespeare. Thus flatt'ring speeches won renown The third had caufelefs banishment, Went wand'ring up and down; Until at laft in famous France Though poor and bare, yet she was deem'd Where when the King her virtues heard, With full confent of all his court, He made his wife and Queen. Her Her father, old King Lear, this while She took from him his chiefest means, For whereas twenty men were wont Nay one she thought too much for him: In hope that in her court, good King, Am I rewarded thus, quoth he, My fecond child, I know, Full faft he hies then to her court; When he had heard with bitter tears, In what I did let me be made I will return again, quoth he, She will not ufe me thus I hope; VOL. VI. M Where Where when he came she gave command That within her kitchen he might have But there of that he was deny'd, Thus 'twixt his daughters, for relief And calling to remembrance then He bore the wounds of woe. Which made him rend his milk white locks And treffes from his head, And all with blood beftain his cheeks, To hills and woods, and wat'ry founts, He made his hourly moan, Till hills and woods, and fenfeless things, Did feem to figh and groan. Ev'n thus poffefs'd with difcontents, He paffed o'er to France, In hope from fair Cordelia there To find fome gentler chance. Moft virtuous Dame! which when she heard Of this her father's grief, As duty bound, the quickly fent Him comfort and relief. And |