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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, 1 can tell you that; He'll strike, and quickly too.-He's dead and rotten. Kent. No, my good lord, I am the very manLear. 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 sees; and vain it is That we present us to him.

Edg.

Very bootless.

Enter an Officer.

Off. Edmund is dead, my lord.

That's but a trifle here.

Alb.
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.-Oh, 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, 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. Oh, let him pass! he

hates him,

That would upon the rack of this tough world
Stretch him out longer.

Edg.

Oh! 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.

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CHISWICK PRESS:-WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS,
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.

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