
   Gent. 'Tis true (my Lords) he did

   Lear. Did I not fellow?
I haue seene the day, with my good biting Faulchion
I would haue made him skip: I am old now,
And these same crosses spoile me. Who are you?
Mine eyes are not o'th' best, Ile tell you straight

   Kent. If Fortune brag of two, she lou'd and hated,
One of them we behold

   Lear. This is a dull sight, are you not Kent?
  Kent. The same: your Seruant Kent,
Where is your Seruant Caius?
  Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that,
He'le strike and quickly too, he's dead and rotten

   Kent. No my good Lord, I am the very man

   Lear. Ile see that straight

   Kent. That from your first of difference and decay,
Haue follow'd your sad steps

   Lear. You are welcome hither

   Kent. Nor no man else:
All's cheerlesse, darke, and deadly,
Your eldest Daughters haue fore-done themselues,
And desperately are dead
  Lear. I so I thinke

   Alb. He knowes not what he saies, and vaine is it
That we present vs to him.
Enter a Messenger.

  Edg. Very bootlesse

   Mess. Edmund is dead my Lord

   Alb. That's but a trifle heere:
You Lords and Noble Friends, know our intent,
What comfort to this great decay may come,
Shall be appli'd. For vs we will resigne,
During the life of this old Maiesty
To him our absolute power, you to your rights,
With boote, and such addition as your Honours
Haue more then merited. All Friends shall
Taste the wages of their vertue, and all Foes
The cup of their deseruings: O see, see

   Lear. And my poore Foole is hang'd: no, no, no life?
Why should a Dog, a Horse, a Rat haue life,
And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
Neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer, neuer.
Pray you vndo this Button. Thanke you Sir,
Do you see this? Looke on her? Looke her lips,
Looke there, looke there.

He dies.

  Edg. He faints, my Lord, my Lord

   Kent. Breake heart, I prythee breake

   Edg. Looke vp my Lord

   Kent. Vex not his ghost, O let him passe, he hates him,
That would vpon the wracke of this tough world
Stretch him out longer

   Edg. He is gon indeed

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

   Alb. Beare them from hence, our present businesse
Is generall woe: Friends of my soule, you twaine,
Rule in this Realme, and the gor'd state sustaine

   Kent. I haue a iourney Sir, shortly to go,
My Master calls me, I must not say no

   Edg. The waight of this sad time we must obey,
Speake what we feele, not what we ought to say:
The oldest hath borne most, we that are yong,
Shall neuer see so much, nor liue so long.

Exeunt. with a dead March.


FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF KING LEAR.
