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.