Mine eyes are none o' th' best. - I'll tell you. straight. Kent. If fortune brag of two she loved and hated, One of them we behold. Lear. Are you not Kent? Kent. The same ; your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius ? Lear. 'Twas a good fellow, I can tell you that, He'd strike, and quickly too:-he's dead and rotten. Kent. No, my good Lord, I am the very manLear. I'll see that straight [decay Kent. That, from your first of difference and Have follow'd your sad steps Lear. You're welcome hither. Kent. 'Twas no man else.-All''s cheerless, dark, and dead: Your eldest daughters have foredone themselves, And desp'rately are dead. Lear. Ay, so I think. Alb. He knows not what he says; and vain is it That we present us to him. Edg. Very bootless. Enter a Messenger. Mess. 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 applied. For us, we will resign, To him our absolute power: to you, your rights. [To Edgar. With boot, and such addition as your honours Lear. And my poor fool is hang'd; no, no, no Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, [life. 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 see this? look on her, look on her lips, Look there, look there Edg. He faints, my Lord! [He dies. [hates him Kent. Break, heart, I pr'ythee break! Edg. Look up, my Lord. Kent. Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He That would upon the rack (83) of this rough world Stretch him out longer. Edg. He is gone indeed. Kent. The wonder is he hath endur'd so long : He but usurp'd his life. [ness Alb. Bear them from hence; our present busi (85) The rack, or wheel, is the circumference of the moon. Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you twain Rule in this realm, and the gorg'd state sustain. Kent. I have a journey, Sir, shortly to go; My master calls me, I must not say, No. [Dies. Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey; (84) Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say, The oldest hath borne most; we that are young, Shall never see so much, live e'er so long. [Exeunt, with a dead march. (84) The meaning implied by almost all the characters of this play being either killed or dying at its close, would seem to be, that the moon in the end is supposed to be obscured, as intimated by the terms general woe and sad time. END OF THE SECOND VOLUME. |