« PreviousContinue »
Leading his eyeless father. O, my liege,
to hail His second birth of empire: My dear Edgar Has, with himself, reveal'd the king's blest restoration...
Lear. My poor dark Gloster !
sage. Edmund, but that's a trifle, is expir'd. What more will touch you, your imperious daughters, Goneril and haughty Regan, both are dead, Each by the other poison'd at a banquet : This, dying, they confess'd.
Cord. O, fatal period of ill govern'd life!
Lear. Ingrateful as they were, my heart feels yet A pang of nature for their wretched fall. But, Edgar, I defer thy joys too long : Thou serv'dst distress'd Cordelia; take her crown'd, Th’imperial grace fresh blooming on her brow: Nay, Gloster, thou hast here a father's right; Thy helping hand to help blessings on their heads.
Kent. Old Kent throws in his hearty wishes too.
Edg. The gods and you too largely recompense What I have done ; the gift strikes merit dumb.
Cord. Nor do I blush to own myself o'erpaid For all my sufferings past.
Edg. Divine Cordelia, all the gods can witness, How much thy love to empire I prefer.
Thy bright example shall convince the world,
Glost. Now, gentle gods, give Gloster his discharge!
Lear. No, Gloster, thou hast business yet for life; Thou, Kent, and I, retir'd to some close cell, Will gently pass our short reserves of time In calm reflections on our fortunes past, Cheer'd with relation of the prosperous reign Of this celestial pair; thus our remains Shall in an even course of thought be past, Enjoy the present hour, nor fear the last.