ne addition of variety, by the art with which he is made to co-operate with the chief design, and the opportunity which he gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the wicked son with the wicked daughters, to impress this important moral, that villany is never at a stop, that crimes lead to crimes, and at last terminate in rnin. But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakspeare has suffered the virtue of Cordelia to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the reader, and what is yet more strange, to the faith of chronicle? Yet this conduct is justified by THE SPECTATOR, who blames Tate for giving Cordelia success and happiness in his alteration, and declares, that in his opinion," the tragedy has lost half its beauty." Dennis has remarked, whether justly or not, that, to secure the favourable reception of" Cato, the town was poisoned with much false and abominable criticism," and that endeavours had been nsed to discredit and decry poetical justice. A play in which the wicked prosper, and the virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good, because it is a just representation of the common events of human life: but since all reasonable beings naturally love justice, I cannot easily be persuaded, that the observation of justice makes a play worse; or that if other excellencies are equal, the audience will not always rise better pleased from the final triumph of persecuted virtue. In the present case, the public has decided. Cordelia, from the time of Tate, has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add any thing to the general suffrage, I might relate, 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 revise them as an editor. There is another controversy among the critics concerning this play. It is disputed whether the predominant image in Lear's disordered miud be the loss of his kingdom, or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr. Murphy, a very judicious critic, has evinced by induction of particular passages, that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary source of his distress, and that the loss of royalty affects him only as a secondary and subordinate evil. He observes, with great justness, that Lear would move our compassion but little, did we not rather consider 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 Holingshed generally copied; but perhaps immediately from an old historical ballad. My reason for believing that the play was posterior to the ballad, rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the ballad has nothing of Shakspeare's nocturnal tempest, which is too striking to have been omitted, and that it follows the chronicle; it has the rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifications: it first hinted Lear's madness, but did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the ballad added something to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more, if inore had occurred to his mind, and more must have occurred if he had seen Shakspeare. JOHNSON. SCENE I. A public Place. Sam. Gregory, o'my word we'll not carry coals.. Gre. No, for then we should be colliers. Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of the collar. Sam. I strike quickly, being moved. Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. Gre. To move, is-to stir; and to be valiant, is-to stand to it: therefore, if thou art moved, thou ruun'st away. Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or inaid of Montague's. The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. I. Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. Sam. True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, and us their men. Sam. "Tis all one, I will show myself a ty rant: when I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids; I will cut off their heads. "Gre. The heads of the maids? Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt. Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to stand: and, 'tis known, I am a pretty piece of flesh. Gre. 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor Johnt. Draw thy • A phrase formerly in use to signify the bearing injuries. tool; bere comes two of the house of the Montagues. Enter ABRAM and BALTHASAR. Gre. How? turn thy back and run? Gre. No, marry: I fear thee! Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. Gre. I will frown, as I pass by; and let them take it as they list. Sam. Nay, as they dare. Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at Abr. Quarrel, sir? no, sir. La. Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek Enter Prince, with Attendants. That quench the fire of your pernicious rage And hear the sentence of your moved prince.- Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you; I serve And, Montague, come you this afternoon, as good a man as you. Abr. No better. Sam. Well, sir. Sam. Draw, if you be men.-Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. [They fight. Ben. Part, fools; put up your swords; you know not what you do." ཟླ [Beats down their Swords. Enter TYBALT. Tyb. What! art thon drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. Ben. I do but keep the peace; put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: 1 Cit. Clubs+, bills, and partisans! strike! Cap. What noise is this!-Give me my long sword, ho! [for a sword? La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch!-Why call you Cap. My sword, I say!-Old Montague is And flourishes his blade in spite of me. [come, Enter MONTAGUE and Lady MONTAGUE. Mon. Thou villain Capulet.-Hold me not, let me go. To know our further pleasure in this case,[place, sary And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: Came more and more, and fought on part and to-day? Right glad I am, he was not at this fray. [sun seen, [dew, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's * The disregard of concord is in character. + Clubs! was the usual exclamation § Appeared. † Angry. Should in the farthest east begin to draw means? Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, step aside; I'll know his grievance, or be mach deniet. Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, Is the day so young? To hear true shrift,-Come,madam, let's away. Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine?-O me-What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love: Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!— Ben. • In seriousness. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast; tears: [Going. What is it else? a madness most discreet, Ben. This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, who she is you love. Rom. What, shall I groan, and tell thee? Ben. Groan? why, no; But sadly tell me, who. [will:Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill !— In sadness, consin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. [fair I love. Rom. A right good marksman !-And she's Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest bit. [be hit Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss : she'll not With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starved with her severity, Ben. Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think. Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. Rom. 'Tis the way To call her's, exquisite, in question more: These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair; ti.e., What end does it answer My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; inade. Let two more summers wither in their pride, more. At my poor house, look to behold this night Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven light: Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel none. Come, go with me ;-Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out, Whose names are written there, [Gives a Paper.] and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIs. Serv, Find them out whose names are written here? It is written-that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons, whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned-In good time. Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO. Ben. Tut, man! one fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish ; • Account, estimation. Estimation. Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish : Take thou some new infection to thy eye, Shut up in prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd, and tormented, and-Good e'en, good fellow. Serv. God gi' good e'en.-I pray, sir, can you read? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. book: But I pray, can you read any thing you see? Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the language. [Reads. Serv. Ye say honestly; Rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. Signior Martino, and his wife, and daugh ters; County Anselme, and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Virtruvio; Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces; Mercutio, and his brother Valentine, Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt; Lucio, and the lively Helena. A fair assembly; [Gives back the Note.] Whether should they come? Serv. Up. Rom. Whither? Serv. To supper; to our house. Rom. Whose house? Serv. My master's. [before. Ben. Tut? you saw her fair, none else being Herself poised || with herself in either eye: But in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid + To inherit, in the language of Shakspeare is to possess. We still say in cant language-to crack a bottle. H Weigh'd. N |