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Alb. O tis he, the time will not allow The complement that very manners vrges.

Kent. I am come to bid my king and master aye good night. Is he not heere ?

Alb. Great things of vs forgot. Speake Edmund, where's the king, and wher's Cordelia ? seest thou this obiect Kent ?

The bodies of Gonorill and Regan are brought in. Kent. Alacke, why thus.

Baft. Yet Edmund was belou'd: the one the other poisond for my fake, and after fewe her selfe.

Alb. Euen so, couer their faces.

Baft, I pant for life : some good I meane to do despight of my owne nature. Quickly send, bee briefe, into the castle for my writ, tis on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia : nay, send in time.

Alb. Run, run, O run.

Edg. To who my lord? who hath the office ? Send thy token of repreeue.

Baft. Well thought on, take my sword, giue it the captaine. Alb. Haft thee for thy life.

Baft. He hath commission from thy wife and me, to hang Cordelia in the prison, and to lay the blame vpon her own despaire.

Alb. The gods defend her, beare him hence a while.

Enter Lear with Cordelia in his Armes.

Lear. Howle, howle, howle, howle : 0 you are men of

stones, Had I your tongues and eyes, I wouid vse them so, That heauens vault should cracke: O, she is


for euer. I know when one is dead, and when one liues, Shees dead as earth: lend me a looking-glasse. If that her breath will mist and staine the stone, she then lives.


Kent. Is this the promist end?
Edg. Or image of that horror ?
Alb. Fall and cease.

Lear. This feather stirs, she liues, if it be fo, it is a chance that do's redeeme all sorrowes that euer I haue felt.

Kent. A my good master.
Lear. Prethee away.
Edg. Tis noble Kent your friend.

Lear. A plague vpon you murdrous traitors all, I might haue faued her, now shees gone for euer : Cordelia; Cordelia, stay a litle. What ist thou sayst? her voice was euer soft, gentle and low, an excellent thing in women. I kild the slaue that was a hanging thee.

Cap. Tis true my lords hee did.

Lear. Did I not fellow? I ha seene the day, that with my biting fauchion I would haue made them skip: I am old now, and these same crosses spoile me. Who are you? mine eyes are none o’th best, Ile tell you straight.

Kent. If fortune brag'd of two she loued or hated.
One of them we behold.

Lear. Are not you Kent?
Kent. The same your seruant Kent, where is your servāt

Gaius ?
Lear. Hees a good fellow, I can tell that,
Heel strike and quickly too, hees dead and rotten.

Kent. No my good lord, I am the very man.
Lear. Ile see that straight.

Kent. That from your life of difference and decay,
Haue followed your fad steps.

Lear. You are welcome hether,

Kent. Nor no man else : all's cheerlesse, darke, and deadly. Your eldest daughters haue fore-doom'd themselues, And desperately are dead.


Lear. So I thinke too.

Alb. He knowes not what he sees, and vaine it is That we present vs to him.

Edgar. Very bootlelle.

Enter Captaine. Cap. Edmund is dead my lord.

Alb. Thats but a trifle heere : you lords and noble friends, know our intent, what comfort to this decay may come, shall be applied : for vs we will resigne during the life of this old maiefty to him our absolute power, you to your rights with boote, and such addition as your honors haue more then merited, al friends shall taste the wages of their vertue, and all foes the cup of their deferuings : O fee, see.

Lear. And my poore foole is hangd: no, no life, why should a dog, a horse, a rat haue life, and thou no breath at all ? U thou wilt come no more, neuer, neuer, neuer : pray vndo this button ; thanke you sir, 0, 0, 0, 0, 0.

Edg. He faints, my lord, my lord.
Lear. Breake heart, I prethe breake.
Edg. Looke vp my lord.

Kent. Vex not his ghost, o let him passe,
He hates him much, that would vpon the wracke
Of this tough world stretch him out longer.

Edg. O he is gone indeed.

Kent. The wonder is, he hath endured so long, He but vsurpt his life.

Duke. Beare them from hence, our present businesse Is to generall woe: friends of my soule, you twaine Rule in this kingdome, and the good state sustaine.

Kent. I haue a iourney fir, shortly to go,
My master cals, and I must not say no.

Duke. The waight of this fad time we must obay,
Speake what we feele, not what we ought to say :
The oldest haue borne most, we that are yong,
Shall neuer see so much, nor liue so long.


Troublesome RAIGNE of

John King of England.


Discouerie of King RICHARD

Cordelions base Sonne

(Vulgarly named, the Bastard Fawconbridge:)


The Death of King Iohn at Swinstead Abbey. As they were (sundry times) lately acted by the Queenes Maiesties Players.

Written by W. Sh.

Imprinted at London by Valentine Simmes, for Tobne

Helme, and are to be sold at his Shop in Saint
Dunstons Church-yard in Fleetestreet. 1611.

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