rather confider the injured father
than the degraded king.
The story of this play, ex-
cept the episode of Edmund,
which is derived, I think, from
Sidney, is taken originally from
Geoffry of Monmouth, whom
Holling shead generally copied;
but perhaps immediately from
an old hiftorical ballad, of which
I shall infert the greater part.
My reafon 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 none of its amplifications: it first hinted Lear's madness, 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 seen Shake Speare.
King Lear once ruled in this land
With princely power and peace,
And had all things, with heart's content,
That might his joys increase.
Amongst those things that nature gave
Three daughters fair had he,
So princely seeming beautiful,
As fairer could not be.
The writer then proceeds with Lear's questions to his daughters, and their answers, according to
the histories, and very nearly according to Shakespeare.
Thus flatt'ring speeches won renown
By these two fifters here.
The third had causeless banishment,
Yet was her love more dear:
For poor Cordelia patiently
Went wand'ring up and down;
Unhelp'd, unpity'd, gentle maid,
Through many an English town.
Until at last in famous France
She gentler fortunes found:
Though poor and bare, yet she was deem'd
The fairest on the ground:
Where when the King her virtues heard,
And this fair lady seen,
With full consent of all his court,
He made his wife and Queen.
Her father, old King Lear, this while
With his two daughters staid;
Forgetful of their promis'd loves,
Full foon the fame denayd;
And living in Queen Regan's court,
The eldest of the twain,
She took from him his chiefest means,
And most of all his train.
For whereas twenty men were wont
To wait with bended knee,
She gave allowance but to ten,
And after scarce to three;
Nay one the thought too much for him:
So took the all away,
In hope that in her court, good King,
He would no longer stay.
Am I rewarded thus, quoth he,
In giving all I have
Unto my children, and to beg
For what I lately gave ?
I'll go unto my Gonerill;
My second child, I know,
Will be more kind and pitiful,
And will relieve my woe.
Full faft he hies then to her court,
Where when she hears his moan,
Return'd him answer, that she griev'd
That all his means were gone,
But no way could relieve his wants:
Yet if that he would stay
Within her kitchen, he should have
What scullions gave away.
When he had heard with bitter tears,
He made his answer then;
In what I did let me be made.
Example to all men.
I will return again, quoth he,
Unto my Regan's court:
She will not use me thus I hope,
But in a kinder fort.
Where when he came she gave command
To drive him thence away:
When he was well within her court,
She said, he would not stay.
Then back again to Gonerill
The woeful King did hie,
That within her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by.
But there of that he was deny'd,
Which she had promis'd late:
For once refusing, he should not
Come after to her gate.
Thus 'twixt his daughters, for relief
He wander'd up and down;
Being glad to feed on beggars' food
That lately wore a crown.
And calling to remembrance then
His youngest daughter's words;
That faid, the duty of a child
Was all that love affords.
But doubting to repair to her,
Whom he had banish'd so,
Grew frantick mad; for in his mind
He bore the wounds of woe.
Which make him rend his milk-white locks
And treffes from his head,
And all with blood bestain his cheeks,
With age and honour spread.
To hills and woods, and wat'ry founts,
He made his hourly moan,
Till hills and woods, and senseless things,
Did feem to figh and groan.
Ev'n thus possess'd with discontents,
He passed o'er to France,
In hope from fair Cordelia there
To find fome gentler chance.
Most virtuous Dame! which when she heard
Of this her father's grief,
As duty bound, she quickly fent
Him comfort and relief.
And by a train of noble peers,
In brave and gallant fort,
She gave in charge he should be brought
To Aganippus' court;
Whose royal King, whose noble mind,
So freely gave confent,
To muster up his knights at arms,
To fame and courage bent.
And fo to England came with speed
To repoffefs King Lear,
And drive his daughters from their thrones
By his Cordelia dear:
Where she, true hearted noble Queen,
Was in the battle flain;
Yet he, good King, in his old days,
Pofsess'd his crown again.
But when he heard Cordelia's death,
Who dy'd indeed for love
Of her dear father, in whose cause
She did this battle move,
He swooning fell upon her breaft,
From whence he never parted;
But on her bosom left his life,
That was so truly hearted.
The lords and nobles when they saw
The ends of these events,
The other fifters unto death
They doomed by consents.
And being dead their crowns they left
Unto the next of kin.
Thus have you seen the fall of pride
And disobedient fin.
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