But they are cruel1 tears. This sorrow's heavenly; FROM KING LEAR. ACT II. SC. 2. LEAR IN THE STORM. A heath.-Lear, Kent, the Fool. Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all patience, Kent. Alas, Sir, are you here? Things that love night, And make them keep their caves. Since I was man, Remember to have heard. Man's nature cannot carry Lear. Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, Unwhipt of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand, Hast practised on man's life!-Close pent-up guilts, Kent. Alack, bare-headed? Gracious my Lord, hard by here is a hovel, Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest; Which even but now, demanding after you, Denied me to come in, return, and force Their scanted courtesy. Lear. My wits begin to turn. Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? art cold? [To the Fool. 1 Cruel to others, if they should cause me to yield and spare her to "betray more men:" or cruel because I am compelled to weep while about to perform a cruel action. 2 This tenderness, with which I lament the punishment which justice compels me to inflict, is a holy passion."-Johnson. The reference is to Heb. xii. 6, "Whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth." 3A west-country word signifying to scare or frighten."-Warburton. 4 Coverings. 5 The palace of Lear's daughters. Kent is disguised as Lear's attendant. The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. * Scene changes to another part of the heath, with a hovel. Kent. Here is the place, my Lord ;-good my Lord, enter. The tyranny o' the open night's too rough For nature to endure. Lear. Let me alone. Kent. Good my Lord, enter here. Lear. Let me alone. Kent. Good my Lord, enter here. Lear. Wilt break my heart? [Storm still. Kent. I'd rather break mine own; good my Lord, enter. Lear. Thou thinkest 'tis much that this contentious storm Invades us to the skin; so 'tis to thee; But where the greater malady is fixed, The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear; But if thy flight lay toward the roaring sea, Thou'dst meet the bear i' th' mouth. When the mind's free, Kent. Good my Lord, enter here. Lear. Pr'ythee go in thyself; seek thine own ease; [Fool goes in. Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, Servant: knabe (German), a boy. a llave too little regarded this when I had the power of a king. 3 Superfluity. ACT V. SC. 3. DEATH OF LEAR. Albany, Kent, Edgar, Officer, &c. Enter Lear, with Cordelia1 dead in his arms. Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl!-O, you are men of stone; Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever. I know when one is dead, and when one lives; She's dead as earth! Lend me a looking-glass; If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Kent. Is this the promis'd end? Edg. O image of that horror Alb. Fall and cease.2 Lear. This feather stirs, she lives: if it be so, It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows That ever I have felt. Kent. O my good master! Lear. Pr'ythee, away Edg. 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. Lear. A plague upon you, murd'rous traitors all! What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft, I've seen the day, with my good biting falchion Lear. This a dull sight. Are you not Kent? Where is your servant Caius ?3 Lear. 'Twas a good fellow, I can tell you, that. Lear. I'll see that strait. Kent. That from your first of difference and decay Lear. You're welcome hither. [Kneeling. 1 His youngest daughter, who had been put to death by the orders of the traitor Edmund. 2 Looking on Lear's ineffectual efforts to restore his daughter, he says, "Rather fall and cease to be at once, than continue in existence only to be wretched."-Steevens. 3 Kent's name in his disguise. 4 Decay, for misfortune.-Warburton. Kent. Nor no man else. All's cheerless, dark, and dead. Your eldest daughters have fore-done themselves, And desp'rately are dead. Lear. Ay, so I think. Alb. He knows not what he says; and vain is it That we present us to him. Edg. Very bootless. Alb. -O see, see-. No-no-no life. Lear. And my poor fool1 is hang'd. Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never Pray you, undo this button.2 Thank you, Sir. Do you see this? Look on her-look-her lips,— Look there, look there Edg. He faints. My Lord, Kent. Break heart, I pr'ythee break! Edg. Look up, my Lord. [He dies. Kent. Vex not his ghost. O let him pass. He hates him That would upon the rack of this rough world Stretch him out longer. Edg. He is gone indeed. Kent. The wonder is he hath endur'd so long; He but usurp'd his life. SELECTIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE'S LYRICS. ARIEL'S SONG. Where the bee sucks, there lurk I; In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch, when owls do cry; On the bat's back I do fly. After summer merrily, Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. Tempest, Act V. Sc. 1. SERENADE TO SYLVIA. Who is Sylvia, what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heavens such grace did lend her, That she might admiréd be. 1 A term of endearment applied to his daughter. Expressions of reproach are often used in this manner, as, "Excellent wretch," &c., Othello, Act III. Sc. 3, applied to Desdemona. By a similar reverse of application, fellow, companion, minion, &c. are used as terms of reproach. Urchin, imp, &c. belong to the same category. 2 This is a subtle touch of nature. He feels the choking sensation caused by anguish, and attempts to relieve it by unfastening his dress; his hands are unable to accomplish this, and he asks aid in these words. Is she kind, as she is fair, For beauty lives with kindness? Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being helped, inhabits there. Then to Sylvia let us sing, Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act IV. Sc. 2. THE FAIRY TO PUCK. Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough briar, Thorough flood, thorough fire, Midsummer Night's Dream, Act II. Sc. 1. AMIENS' SONG. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, As friend rememb'red not. As you like it, Act II, Sc. 7. CLOTEN'S SERENADE. Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, |