To hang Cordelia in the prison, and

To lay the blame upon her own defpair.

Alb. The Gods defend her! bear him hence a while.

[Edmund is borne off.

Enter Lear, with Cordelia dead in his arms.

Lear. Howl, howl, howl, howl,

of stone ;

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them fo,

That heaven's vault should crack: fhe's gone for ever!" I know, when one is dead, and when one lives;

She's dead as earth! lend me a looking-glass,

If that her Breath will mift or stain the ftone,
Why then the lives.

Kent. Is this the promis'd End?

Lear. This feather ftirs, fhe lives; if it be fo, It is a Chance which do's redeem all forrows, That ever I have felt.

Kent. O my good master!

Lear. Pr'ythee, away

Edg. 'Tis noble Kent, your friend.

[Kneeling.

Lear. A plague upon you, murth'rous traitors all!
I might have fav'd her; now fhe's gone for ever!
Cordelia, Cordelia, ftay a little. Ha!

What is't thou fay'ft? her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low; an excellent thing in woman.
I kill'd the flave, that was a hanging thee.
Gent. 'Tis true, my lords, he did.

Lear. Did I not, fellow ?

I've seen the day, with my good biting faulchion
I would have made them skip: I am old now,
And these fame croffes fpoil me. Who are you?
Mine eyes are none o'th' best. I'll tell you ftrait.

Kent. If fortune brag of two fhe lov'd and hated,
One of them we behold.

Lear. Are you not Kent ?

Kent. The fame; your fervant Kent ;

Where is your fervant Caius ?

Lear. 'Twas a good fellow, I can tell you that, (29) He'd ftrike, and quickly too:- he's dead and rotten. Kent. No, my good lord, I am the very man, Lear. I'll fee that ftrait.

Kent. That, from your firft of difference and decay, Have follow'd your fad fteps

Lear. You're welcome hither.

Kent. Nor no man else; — all's cheerless, dark, and dead:

Your eldest daughters have fore-done themselves,
And defp'rately are dead..

Lear. Ay, fo I think.

Alb. He knows not what he says; and vain is it, That we prefent us to him.

Edg. Very bootlefs.

Enter a Meffenger,

Mef. Edmund is dead, my lord.

Alb. That's but a trifle.

You lords and noble friends, know our intent;
What Comfort to this great Decay may come,
Shall be apply'd. For us, we will refign,
During the life of this old Majefty,

To him our abfolute Power: to you, your Rights,

[To Edgar.

With boot, and fuch addition as your honours
Have more than merited. All friends fhall tafte
The wages of their virtue, and all foes
The cup of their defervings: O fee, fee

Lear. And my poor Fool is hang'd: no, no, no life. Why should a dog, a horfe, a rat have life,

And thou no breath at all? thou'lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never →→

(29) He's a good Fellow, I can tell you that,

He'll firike and quickly too : he's dead and rotten.] We have Leen Lear mad; but, never, a ftark Fool till this Moment; to tell us, that a dead and rotten Man will strike quickly. But it was a Stupidity of the Editors, and not chargeable on the Poet.

Pray

Pray you, undo this button.

Thank you, Sir;

[He dies.

Do you fee this? look on her, look on her lips,

Look there, look there

Edg. He faints; my lord,

Kent. Break heart, I pr'ythee, break!

Edg. Look up, my

lord.

Kent. Vex not his ghost: O, let him pafs! He hates him, That would upon the rack of this rough world

Stretch him out longer.

Edg. He is

gone, indeed.

Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd fo long:
He but ufurpt his life.

Alb. Bear them from hence, our present business
Is general woe friends of my foul, you twain
Rule in this Realm, and the gor'd State sustain.
Kent. I have a journey, Sir, fhortly to go;
My mafter calls me; I muft not fay, no.

[Dies.

Alb. The weight of this fad time we must obey, (30) Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.

The oldeft hath borne moft; we, that are young,
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

[Exeunt with a dead March.

(30) Alb. The Weight of this fad Time, &c.] This Speech from the Authority of the Old Quarto is rightly plac'd to Albany: in the Edition by the Players it is given to Edgar, by whom, I doubt not, it was of Custom spoken. And the Cafe was this: He who play'd Edgar, being a more favourite Actor, than he who perfonated Albany; in Spight of Decorum, it was thought proper he should have the laft Word.

ΤΙΜΟΝ