The Tragedy of Lear is deservedly celebrated among the dramas of
Shakespeare. There is perhaps no play which keeps the attention so
strongly fixed; which so much agitates our passions and interests
our curiosity. The artful involutions of distinct interests, the
striking opposition of contrary characters, the sudden changes of
fortune, and the quick succession of events, fill the mind with a
perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, and hope. There is no scene
which does not contribute to the aggravation of the distress or
conduct of the action, and scarce a line which does not conduce
to the progress of the scene. So powerful is the current of the
poet's imagination, that the mind, which once ventures within it,
is hurried irresistibly along.

On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct it may be observed,
that he is represented according to histories at that time vulgarly
received as true. And perhaps if we turn our thoughts upon the
barbarity and ignorance of the age to which this story is referred,
it will appear not so unlikely as while we estimate Lear's manners
by our own. Such preference of one daughter to another, or resignation
of dominion on such conditions, would be yet credible, if told of
a petty prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakespeare, indeed, by the
mention of his Earls and Dukes, has given us the idea of times more
civilised, and of life regulated by softer manners; and the truth
that though he so nicely discriminates, and so minutely describes
the characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds the
characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient and modern, English
and foreign.

My learned friend Mr. Warton, who has in the Adventurer very minutely
criticised this play, remarks, that the instances of cruelty are too