And meeting here the other meffenger, Display'd fo faucily against your Highness, Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geefe fly that way. Fathers, that wear rags, Do make their children blind; 6 But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters, as thou canst tell in a year. Lear. Oh, how this mother fwells up tow❜rd my heart! Hyfterica paffio. Down, thou climbing forrow, Thy element's below. Where is this daughter? Kent. With the Earl, Sir, here within. Lear. Follow me not; stay here. [Exit. Gent. Made you no more offence, but what you fpeak of? Kent. None. How chance the King comes with so small a number? Fool. An thou hadft been fet i'th'ftocks for that question, thou'dft well deserved it. Kent. Why, fool? Fool. We'll fet thee to school to an Ant, to teach thee there's no lab'ring i' th' winter. 7 All, that follow their nofes are led by their eyes, but blind men ; and there's not a nofe among twenty, but can fmell him that's ftinking. Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down a hill, left it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after. When a wife man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again; I would have none but knaves follow it, fince a fool gives it. That, Sir, which ferves for gain, ୪ And follows but for form, Will pack, when it begins to rain, ? But I will tarry; the fool will stay, The knave turns fool, that runs away; Kent. Where learn'd you this, fool? twenty, but can fmell, &c ] There is in this fentence no clear feries of thought. If he that follows his nofe is led or guided by his cyes, he wants no information from his nofe. I perfuade my felf, but know not whether I can perfuade others, that our authour wrote thus: All men are led by their eyes, but blind men, and they follow their nofes, and there's not a nofe among twenty but can smell him that's finking. Here is a fucceffion of reafoning. You afk, why the King has no more in his train? why, because men who are led by their eyes fee that he is ruined, and if there were any blind among them, who, for want of eyes, followed their nofes, they might by their noses discover that it was no longer fit to follow the King. SCENE 8 When a wife man gives thee, &c.] One cannot too much commend the caution which our moral poet ufes, on all occafions, to prevent his fentiments from being perverfly taken. So here, having given an ironical precept in commendation of perfidy and base desertion of the unfortunate, for fear it should be understood feriously, tho' deliver'd by his buffoon or jester, he has the precaution to add this beau tiful corrective, full of fine fense: I would have none but knaves follow it, fince a fool gives it. WARBURTON. 9 But I will tarry, the fool wil fay, And let, &c.] I think this paffage erroneous, though both the copies concur. The fenfe will be mended if we read, But Enter Lear and Glo'fter. Lear. Deny to fpeak with me? They're fick? They're weary? They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches, Bring me a better answer Glo. My dear Lord, You know the fiery quality of the Duke, In his own course. Lear. Vengeance! plague! death! confufion! I'd speak with th' Duke of Cornwall, and his wife. Glo. Ay, my good Lord? Lear. The King would fpeak with Cornwall. The dear father Wou'd with his daughter fpeak, commands her fervice; Are they inform'd of this?-My breath and blood!Fiery? The fiery duke? Tell the hot Duke, that [Glocefter offers to go. No, but not yet. May be, he is not well; Infirmity doth ftill neglect all office, Whereto our health is bound; we're not ourselves, When Nature, being oppreft, commands the mind And am fall'n out with my more headier will, For the found man. fore Death on my state! But where [Looking on Kent. Should he fit here? This Act perfuades me, That this remotion of the Duke and her *Is practice only. Give me my fervant forth. 'Till it cry, fleep to death. Glo. I would have all well betwixt you. [Exit. Lear. Oh me, my heart, my rifing heart! but down. Fool. Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the Eels, when the put them i'th' Pafty alive; the rapt 'em o'th' coxcombs with a stick, and cry'd, down wantons, down. 'Twas her brother, that in pure kindnefs to his horfe butter'd his hay. Enter Cornwall, Regan, Glofter, and Servants. Corn. Hail to your Grace! [Kent is fet at Liberty. Reg. I am glad to fee your Highness. Lear. Regan, I think you are; I know, what reason I have to think fo; if thou wert not glad, I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, Sepulchring an adulterefs. O, are you free? [To Kent. Is practice onl.] Practice is in Shakespeare, and other old writers, ufed commonly in an ill fenfe for unlawful artifice. the Eels, when he put them Sharp 'th' Pafty] Hinting that the Eel Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture here; [Points to his heart. I can scarce speak to thee; thou❜lt not believe, 3 Of how deprav'd a quality-Oh Regan?-Reg. I pray you, Sir, take patience; I have Hope, You lefs know how to value her defert, Than fhe to scant her duty. Lear. Say? How is that? Reg. I cannot think, my fifter in the leaft Lear. My curfes on her!- Nature in you ftands on the very verge Of her confine; you should be rul'd and led Lear. Afk her forgiveness? 'Do you but mark, how this becomes the House. the fable of Prometheus. WARB. reads, flack her duty, You lefs know how to value her defert, Than fhe to fcan her duty. To fan may be to measure or pro, artion. Yet our authour ufes Dear his negatives with fuch licentioufnefs, that it is hardly safe to make any alteration. Do you but mark how this becomes the Houfe?] This Phrafe to me is unintelligible, and feems to fay nothing to the purpose: Neither can it mean, how this becomes the Order of Families. Lear would certainly intend to reply, how does afking my Daughters Forgiveness agree with common Fashion, the eftablished Rule and Custom of Nature? No Doubt, but the Poet wrote, becomes the Ule. And that Shakespeare employs Ufe |