The bustle and
rapid succession of events in the last scenes is surprising. But the
meeting between Lear and Cordelia is by far the most affecting part
of them. It has all the wildness of poetry, and all the heartfelt
truth of nature. The previous account of her reception of the news
of his unkind treatment, her involuntary reproaches to her sisters,
'Shame, ladies, shame,' Lear's backwardness to see his daughter, the
picture of the desolate state to which he is reduced, 'Alack,'tis
he; why he was met even now, as mad as the vex'd sea, singing
aloud,' only prepare the way for and heighten our expectation of
what follows, and assuredly this expectation is not disappointed
when through the tender care of Cordelia he revives and recollects
her.
Cordelia. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty!
Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave:
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.
Cordelia. Sir, do you know me?
Lear. You are a spirit I know: when did you die?
Cordelia. Still, still, far wide!
Physician. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile.
Lear. Where have I been? Where am I?--Fair daylight?--
I am mightily abus'd.--I should even die with pity,
To see another thus.
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