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       ‘Tis true, my lords, he did.

       Lear.

       Did I not, fellow?

       I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion

       I would have made them skip: I am old now,

       And these same crosses spoil me.—Who are you?

       Mine eyes are not 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 your first of difference and decay

       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 fordone themselves,

       And desperately 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 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:—[to Edgar and Kent] you to your

       rights;

       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? 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!—her lips!—

       Look there, look there!—

       [He dies.]

       Edg.

       He faints!—My lord, my lord!—

       Kent.

       Break, heart; I pr’ythee break!

       Edg.

       Look up, my lord.

       Kent.

       Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! 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 so long:

       He but usurp’d his life.

       Alb.

       Bear them from hence.—Our present business

       Is general woe.—[To Kent and Edgar.] Friends of my soul, you

       twain

       Rule in this realm, and the gor’d state sustain.

       Kent.

       I have a journey, sir, shortly to go;

       My master calls me,—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 have borne most: we that are young

       Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

       [Exeunt, with a dead march.]