Your noble birth, and present state requires,
I do remove that burden from your shoulders,
And take it on mine own: for, though I ruin
The country to supply your riotous waste,
The scourge of prodigals, want, shall never find you.
Lov. Are you not frighted with the imprecations
And curses of whōle families, made wretched
By your sinister1 practices?

Over.

Yes, as rocks are,

When foamy billows split themselves against

Their flinty ribs; or as the moon is moved,

When wolves, with hunger pined, howl at her brightness.
I am of a solid temper, and, like these,

Steer on, a constant course: with mine own sword,
If called into the field, I can make that right,
Which fearful enemies murmured at as wrong.
Now for these other trifling complaints
Breathed out in bitternèss; as when they call me
Extortioner, tyrant, cormorant, or intruder
On my poor neighbor's right, or grand incloser
Of what was common, to my private use;
Nay, when my ears are pierced with widows' cries,
And undone orphans wash with tears my threshold,
I only think what 'tis to have my daughter
Right honorable; and 'tis a powerful charm.
Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity,

Or the least sting of conscience.

Lov.

The toughness of your nature.

Over.

I admire

"Tis for you,

My lord, and for my daughter, I am marble;

Nay more, if you will have my character

In little, I enjoy more true delight,

In my arrival to my wealth these dark

And crooked ways, than you shall e'er take pleasure

In spending what my industry hath compassed.

My haste commands me hence; in one word, therefore, Is it a match?

1 Sin' is ter, left-handed; evil.

Lov.

I hope, that is past doubt now.

Over. Then rest secure; not the hate of all mankind here,

Nor fear of what can fall on me hereafter,

Shall make me study aught but your advancement

One story higher: an earl! if gold can do it.
Dispute not my religion, nor my faith;
Though I am bōrne thus headlong by my will,
You may make choice of what belief you please—
To me they are equal; so, my lord, good mòrrōw.
Lov. He's gone-I wonder how the earth can bear
Such a portent!' I, that have lived a soldier,
And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted,
To hear this blasphemous beast am bathed all over
In a cold sweat: yet, like a mountain, he
(Confirmed in atheistical assertions)

3

Is no more shaken than Olympus* is

When angry Bōreäs' loads his double head
With sudden drifts of snow.

[Exit.

MASSINGER.

PHILIP MASSINGER, one of the first rank of the old English dramatists, was born in Salisbury in 1584, and died in London, March 17, 1640. He was educated in his native city, and at St. Alban's Hall, Oxford. He repaired to London in 1606, where he at once employed himself at dramatic composition. But little is known of his life until the publication of his first drama, the "Virgin Martyr," in 1622. He wrote many pieces, of which 18 have been preserved. The "Virgin Martyr," the "Bondman," the "Fatal Dowry," ," "The City Madam," and "A New Way to Pay Old Debts," are his best known productions. The last alone, from which the above is adapted, retains a place on the stage, for which it is indebted to its effective delineation of the character of Sir Giles Overreach.

1 Por tent', that which stretches out before or foreshows; especially, that which foretokens evil; an omen of ill.

? Blǎs' phe mous, given to the use of wicked, lying, or reproachful words toward God.

3 A`the ĭst' iċ al, relating to, implying, or containing, the disbelief or denial of the existence of God.

4 Olym' pus, a mountain range of Thessaly, on the border of Macedonia. Its summit, famed by Homer

and other poets as the throne of the gods, is estimated to be 9,745 feet high.

5 Bō' re as, the north wind; in mythology, a son of Astræus and Eos, a brother of Hesperus, Boreas was worshiped as a god. He was represented with wings, which, as well as his hair and beard, were full of flakes of snow: instead of feet he had the tails of serpents, and with the train of his garment he stirred up clouds of dust.

II.

37. THE THREE DOWERS.

Characters: King LEAR; Duke of CORNWALL and Duke of ALBANY, Sons in-law to LEAR; GONERIL, REGAN, and CORDELIA, Daughters of LEAR; King of FRANCE, and Duke of BURGUNDY, Suitors to CORDELIA.

LEA

EAR. Give me the map, there.-Know that we have divided,
In three, our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent

To shake all cares and business from our age;
Conferring them on younger strengths, while we
Unburdened crawl toward death.-Tell me, my daughters,
Which of you, shall we say, doth love us mōst?
That we our largest bounty may extend

Where merit doth most challenge it.—Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.

Do love you more than words can wield the matter:
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;

Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;

No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor:
As much as child e'er loved, or father found:

A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable;
Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests, and with champaigns riched
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual.-What says our second daughter;
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.

Reg. I am made of that self-metal as my sister,
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find she names my věry deed of love;

Only she comes too short-that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys

Which the most precious square of sense possesses,
And find, I am alone felicitate

In your dear highness' love.

Lear. To thee and thine, hereditary ever,

Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;

No less in space, validity, and pleasure,
Than that confirmed on Goneril.-Now, our joy,
Although the last, not least; to whose young love
The vines of France, and milk of Bur'gundy,
Strive to be interessed; what can you say, to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
Cor. Nothing, my lord.

Lear.

Cor.

Nothing?

Nothing.

Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again.
Cor. Unhappy that I am, I can not heave

My heart into my mouth. I love your majesty
According to my bond; nor more, nor less.

Lear. How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little,

may mar your

fortunes.

Lest it
Cor.
Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I
Return those duties back as are right fit;
Obey you, love you, and most honor you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say,

They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,

That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry

Half my love with him, half my care and duty.

Lear. But goes this with thy heart?

Cor.

Ay, good my lord.

Lear. So young, and so untender?

Cor. So young, my lord, and true.

Lear. Let it be so. Thy truth then be thy dower:

For, by the sacred radiance of the sun;

The mysteries of Hecate and the night;

By all the operations of the orbs,

From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,

And as a stranger to my heart and me

Hold thee, from this, forever.-Cornwall and Albany,

With my two daughters' dowers digěst this third:

Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly with my power,

Preeminence, and all the large effects

That troop with majesty.-My Lord of Bur'gundy,
We first address toward you, who with this king
Hath rivaled for our daughter:-What, in the least,
Will you require in present dower with her,

Or cease your quest of love?

Bur.

Most royal majesty, Give but that portion which yourself proposed, And here I take Cordeliä by the hand,

Duchess of Bur'gundy.

Lear. Nothing: I have swōrn; I am firm.

Bur. I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father, That you must lose a husband. [To CORDELIA. Cor. Peace be with Burgundy!

Since that respects of fortune are his love,

I shall not be his wife.

Fra. Fairest Cordeliä, that art most rich, being poor;
Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised!
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon;

Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away.

Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, queen of us, of ours, and our fair France:-

Is

Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind:

Thou losest here, a better where to find.

Lear. Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again:-Therefore be gone,

Without our grace, our love, our benison.

III.

38. ENJOYING MONEY.

SHAKSPEARE.

Characters: Dr. Wentworth, the Host; BUEL, a Parson; BACON, a Judge; EDWARDS, a Teacher; and BRETT, a benevolent Merchant and Manufacturer. [All sitting under a great elm on the lawn.]

B

ACON. Brett, have you noticed Dr. Wentworth's conservatory? I wonder you do not add one to your house. I am sure you spend too much money on benevolence. You owe a little now and then to selfishness. Why, my dear fellow, you