If Cordelia were not thus portrayed, this deliberate coolness would strike us as verging on harshness or obstinacy; but it is beautifully represented as a certain modification of character, the necessary result of feelings habitually, if not naturally, repressed: and through the whole play we trace the same peculiar and individual disposition--the same absence of all display--the same sobriety of speech veiling the most profound affections--the same quiet steadiness of purpose--the same shrinking from all exhibition of emotion. "Tous les sentimens naturels ont leur pudeur," was a _viva voce_ observation of Madame de Stael, when disgusted by the sentimental affectation of her imitators. This "pudeur," carried to an excess, appears to me the peculiar characteristic of Cordelia. Thus, in the description of her deportment when she receives the letter of the Earl of Kent, informing her of the cruelty of her sisters and the wretched condition of Lear, we seem to have her before us:-- KENT. Did your letters pierce the queen to any demonstration of grief? GENTLEMAN. Ay, sir, she took them, and read them in my presence And now and then an ample tear stole down Her delicate cheek. It seemed she was a queen Over her passion; who, most rebel-like Sought to be king over her. KENT. O then it moved her! GENTLEMAN. Not to a rage. Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of father Pantingly forth, as if it pressed her heart, Cried, _Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! Sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night? Let pity not be believed._ Then she shook The holy water from her heavenly eyes; * * * * Then away she started, To deal with grief alone. Here the last line--the image brought before us of Cordelia starting away from observation, "to deal with grief alone," is as exquisitely beautiful as it is characteristic. But all the passages hitherto quoted must yield in beauty and power to that scene, in which her poor father recognizes her, and in the intervals of distraction asks forgiveness of his wronged child. The subdued pathos and simplicity of Cordelia's character, her quiet but intense feeling, the misery and humiliation of the bewildered old man, are brought before us in so few words, and at the same time sustained with such a deep intuitive knowledge of the innermost workings of the human heart, that as there is nothing surpassing this scene in Shakspeare himself, so there is nothing that can be compared to it in any other writer. CORDELIA. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? LEAR. You do me wrong to take me out of 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.