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 He'll strike, and quickly too:

rotten.

that;

He's dead and

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 fore-doom'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.

VOL. IX.

Very bootless.2

* Useless.

FF

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:

rights;

You, to your

[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,

Look there, look there!

lips,

Edg.

Edg.

[He dies,

He faints! - My lord, my lord,—

Kent. Break, heart; I pr'y thee break!

Look up, my lord.

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

hates him,

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 busi

ness

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 THE NINTH VOLUME.

Printed by A. Strahan, Printers-Street, London.