Whereas he stood untill such time he starv'd.
And soe God send all murderers may be serv'd.

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XIV.

TAKE THOSE LIPS AWAY.

The first stanza of this little sonnet, which an eminent critic' justly admires for its extreme sweetness, is found in Shakespeare's Measure for Measure, A. 4, Sc. 1. Both the stanzas are preserved in Beaum. and Fletcher's Bloody Brother, A. 5, Sc. 2. Sewel and Gildon have printed it among Shakespeare's smaller poems, but they have done the same by twenty other pieces that were never writ by him, their book being a wretched heap of inaccuracies and mistakes. It is not found in Jaggard's old edition of Shakespeare's Passionate Pilgrim, &c.

2

TAKE, oh take those lips away,

That so sweetlye were forsworne; And those eyes, the breake of day,

Lights, that do misleade the morne: But my kisses bring againe,

Seales of love, but seal'd in vaine.3

Hide, oh hide those hills of snowe,

Which thy frozen bosom beares,
On whose tops the pinkes that growe,
Are of those that April wears:

But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.

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1 Dr. Warburton in his Shakesp.-2 Mr. Malone, in his improved edition of Shakespeare's Sonnets, &c. hath substituted this instead of Marlow's Madrigal, printed above; for which he hath assigned reasons, which the Reader may see in his Vol. X. p. 340.-3 Emerson in his 'Nature,' quotes the first stanza as peculiarly Shaksperean! So it is, although not Shakspere's.—ED.

XV.

KING LEIR AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS. The Reader has here an ancient ballad on the subject of King Lear, which (as a sensible female critic has well observed 1) bears so exact an analogy to the argument of Shakespeare's play, that his having copied it could not be doubted, if it were certain, that it was written before the tragedy. Here is found the hint of Lear's madness which the old chronicles do not mention, as also the extravagant cruelty exercised on him by his daughters. In the death of Lear they likewise very exactly coincide.-The misfortune is, that there is nothing to assist us in ascertaining the date of the ballad but what little evidence arises from within; this the Reader must weigh and judge for himself.

It may be proper to observe, that Shakespeare was not the first of our Dramatic Poets who fitted the Story of Leir to the Stage. His first 4to edition is dated 1608; but three years before that had been printed a play intitled, 'The true Chronicle History of Leir and his three daughters Gonorill, Ragan, and Cordella, as it hath been divers and sundry times lately acted, 1605, 4to.' -This is a very poor and dull performance, but happily excited Shakespeare to undertake the subject, which he has given with very different incidents. It is remarkable, that neither the circumstances of Leir's madness, nor his retinue of a select number of knights, nor the affecting deaths of Cordelia and Leir, are found in that first dramatic piece: in all which Shakespeare concurs with this ballad.

But to form a true judgement of Shakespeare's merit, the curious Reader should cast his eye over that previous sketch; which he will find printed at the end of the Twenty Plays of Shakespeare, republished from the quarto impressions by George Steevens, Esq; with such elegance and exactness as led us to expect that fine edition of all the works of our great Dramatic Poet, which he hath since published.

The following ballad is given from an ancient copy in the Golden Garland,' bl. let. intitled,‘A lamentable song of the Death of King Lear and his Three Daughters. To the tune of When flying Fame.'

KING Leir 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.

5

'Mrs Lennox. Shakespeare illustrated, Vol. III. p. 302.-2 See Jeffery of Monmouth, Holingshed, &c. who relate Leir's history in many respects the same as the ballad.

So on a time it pleas'd the king

A question thus to move,
Which of his daughters to his grace

Could shew the dearest love:

For to my age you bring content,'
Quoth he, then let me hear,

Which of you three in plighted troth
The kindest will appear.'

To whom the eldest thus began;

'Dear father, mind,' quoth she,
'Before your face, to do you good,
My blood shall render'd be:

And for your sake my bleeding heart
Shall here be cut in twain,

Ere that I see your reverend age
The smallest grief sustain.'

And so will I,' the second said;

'Dear father, for your sake,

The worst of all extremities

I'll gently undertake:

And serve your highness night and day

With diligence and love;

That sweet content and quietness

Discomforts may remove.'

In doing so, you glad my soul,'

The aged king reply'd;

'But what sayst thou, my youngest girl, How is thy love ally'd?'

'My love' (quoth young Cordelia then) Which to your grace I owe,

Shall be the duty of a child,

And that is all I'll show,'

And wilt thou shew no more,' quoth he, "Than doth thy duty bind?

I well perceive thy love is small,

When as no more I find.

Henceforth I banish thee my court,

Thou art no child of mine;

Nor any part of this my realm.
By favour shall be thine.

Thy elder sisters' loves are more

Than well I can demand,

To whom I equally bestow

My kingdome and my land,

My pompal state and all my goods,
That lovingly I may

With those thy sisters be maintain'd
Until my dying day.'

Thus flattering speeches won renown,
By these two sisters 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:

Untill 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,

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60

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Her father king Leir this while

With his two daughters staid: Forgetful of their promis'd loves,

Full soon the same decay'd;

And living in queen Ragan's court,

The eldest of the twain,

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She took from him his chiefest means,

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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 she thought too much for him;
So took she all away,

In hope that in her court, good king,

He would no longer stay.

Full fast he hies then to her court;
Where, when she heard 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.'