The one the other poifon'd for my fake,
And after, flew her felf.

Alb. Even fo; cover their Faces.

Baft. I pant for life; fome good I mean to do
Defpight of mine own Nature. Quickly fend,
Be brief in it, to th' Castle, for my Writ
Is on the life of Lear, and Cordelia:

Nay, fend in time.

Alb. Run, run, O run

Edg. To whom, my Lord? who has the Office? Send thy token of reprieve.

Baft. Well thoguht on, take my Sword, Give it the Captain

Edg. Hafte thee for thy Life.

Baft. He hath Commiffion from thy Wife and me, To hang Cordelia in the Prifon, and

To lay the blame upon her own despair,

That the fore-did her felf.

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

Enter Lear with Cordelia dead in his Arms.

Lear. Howl, howl, howl-O you are Men of Stones, Had I your Tongues and Eyes, I'd use them fo,

for ever.

That Heav'ns Vault fhould crack; she's gone
I know when one is dead, and when one lives,
She's dead as Earth: Lend me a Locking-Glass,
If that her breath will mift or ftain the Stone,
Why then the lives.

Kent. Is this the promis'd end?

Edg. Or image of that horror.
Alb. Fall and ceafe.

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. Oh my good Master.

Lear. Prethee away

Edg. 'Tis noble Kent your Friend.

Lear. A plague upon you Murtherers, Traitors all,
I might have fav'd her, now the's gone for ever:
Cordelia, Cordelia, ftay a little. Ha!-
What is't thou fay'ft? her Voice was ever foft,
Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in Woman.

I.

I kill'd the Slave that was a hanging thee.
Gent. 'Tis true, my Lords, he did.
Lear. Did I not, Fellow?

I have seen the day, with my good biting Faulchion
I would have made him skip: I am old now

And these fame croffes fpoil me. Who are you?
Mine Eyes are none o' th' beft, I'll tell you ftraight.
Kent. If Fortune brag of two, the lov'd and hated,
One of them we behold.

Lear. This is a dull fight, are you not Kent ?
Kent. The fame; your Servant Kent,
Where is your Servant Cains?

Lear. He's a good Fellow, I can tell you that,
He'll ftrike, and quickly too, he's dead and rotten.
Kent. No, my good Lord, I am the very Man.
Lear. I'll fee that straight.

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

Lear. You are welcome hither.

Kent. Nor no Man else; all's cheerlefs, dark, and deadly : Your eldest Daughters have fore-done themfelves,

And defperately are dead.

Lear. Ay, fo I think.

Alb. He knows not what he fays, and vain is it

That we prefent us to him.

Enter a Messenger.

Edg. Very bootlefs.

Mef. Edmund is dead, my Lord.

Alb. That's but a Trifle here:

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; you to your Rights, [To Edg.
With boot, and fuch addition as your Honours

ave more than merited. All Friends fhall

afte 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

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

Pray you undo this Button. Thank you, Sir,

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

Look there, look there.

Edg. He faints, my Lord.

Kent. Break Heart, I prithee break.

Edg. Look to my Lord.

[He dies.

Kent. Vex not his Ghoft, O let him pass; he hates him,

That would upon the rack of this tough World

Stretch him out longer.

Edg. He is gone indeed.

Kent. The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long,
He but ufurpt his Life.

Alb. Bear them from hence, our present Business
Is general woe: Friends of my Soul, you twain,
Rule in this Realm, and the gor'd State fuftain.
Kent. I have a Journey, Sir, fhortly to go,
My Mafter calls me, I muft not fay no.

Edg. The weight of this fad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to fay;
The oldest hath born most, we that are young,
Shall never fee fo much, nor live fo long.

[Diese

[Exeunt with a dead March.

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