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Lear. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for ever!— Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little.

Ha!

What is't thou say'st?-Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low; an excellent thing in woman:-
I kill'd the slave, that was a hanging thee.
Off. '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 them skip: I am old now,
And these same crosses spoil me.-Who are you?
Mine eyes are none o'the best:-I'll tell you straight.
Kent. If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated,
One of them we behold.

Lear. This is a dull sight: Are you not Kent?
Kent. The same;

Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius?

Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that; He'll strike, and quickly too:-He's dead and rotten. Kent. No, my good lord; I am the very man ;Lear. I'll see that straight.

Kent. That, from the first of difference and de

cay,

Have follow'd your sad steps.

Lear. You are welcome hither.

Kent. Nor no man else: all's cheerless, dark, and deadly.

Your eldest daughters have foredoom'd themselves, And desperately are dead.

Lear. Ay, so I think.

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

Edg. Very bootless.

Enter an Officer.

Off. 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 applied: For us, we will resign,
During the life of this old majesty,

To him our absolute power:-You, to your rights;

[To Edgar and Kent. With boot, and such addition as your honours Have more than merited.-All friends shall taste The wages of their virtue, and all foes

The cup of their deservings.-O see, see!

Lear. And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life:

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,

And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt come no

more,

Never, never, never, never, never!

Pray you, undo this button: Thank you, sir.

Do you see this? Look on her,-look,—her lips,

Look there, look there!—

Edg. He faints!-My lord, my lord,

Kent. Break, heart; I pr'ythee, break!
Edg. Look up, my lord.

[He dies.

Kent. Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates him,

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That would upon the rack of this tough world

Stretch him out longer.

Edg. O, he is gone, indeed.

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

Alb. Bear them from hence.-Our present business Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you twain

[To Kent and Edgar. Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain. Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;

My master calls, and I must not say, no.

Alb. The weight of this sad time we must obey; Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most: we, that are young, Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

[Exeunt, with a dead march.

END OF VOLUME EIGHTH.

Printed by Walker and Greig,
Edinburgh.

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