King Lear, Act 5, Scene 3

Some officers take them away: good guard Until their greater pleasures first be known That are to censure them.

Some officers, take them away. Guard them well until the wishes of those greater than us, who are to pass judgement on them, are made known.

We are not the first Who with best meaning have incurr’d the worst. For thee, oppressed King, I am cast down; Myself could else out-frown false fortune’s frown. Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters?

We are not the first who have suffered the worst while intending the best. It is for you, wronged King, that I am downcast; otherwise I could out-stare the scowl of treacherous fortune. Are we not going to see these daughters and these sisters?

No, no, no, no. Come, let’s away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage: When thou dost ask me blessing I’ll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness. So we’ll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we’ll talk with them too, Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out; And take upon’s the mystery of things, As if we were God’s spies. And we’ll wear out, In a wall’d prison, packs and sects of great ones That ebb and flow by the moon.

No, no, no, no. Come, let's go off to prison. We two alone will sing like birds in a cage. When you ask me for my blessing, I'll kneel down and ask you for forgiveness. That is how we'll live, and pray, and sing, and tell old stories, and laugh at gilded butterflies, and hear poor wretches talk of news from court; and we'll talk with them too — who loses and who wins, who's in favour and who's out — and we'll take on ourselves the explaining of the mystery of things, as if we were God's spies. And inside a walled prison we'll outlast the crowds and factions of great men, who rise and fall like the tide under the moon.

Take them away.

Take them away.

Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven, And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes; The good years shall devour them, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make us weep! We’ll see ’em starve first: come.

On sacrifices such as these, my Cordelia, the gods themselves throw incense. Have I got hold of you? Whoever separates us will have to fetch a torch from heaven and smoke us out of here like foxes. Dry your eyes. The plague years will eat them up, flesh and skin, before they make us weep! We'll see them starve first. Come.

Come hither, captain, hark. Take thou this note [giving a paper]; go follow them to prison. One step I have advanc’d thee; if thou dost As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way To noble fortunes: know thou this, that men Are as the time is; to be tender-minded Does not become a sword. Thy great employment Will not bear question; either say thou’lt do’t, Or thrive by other means.

Come here, captain, listen. Take this note [he gives him a paper]; go and follow them to the prison. I've promoted you one step already; if you do as this paper instructs you, you're making your way to great fortunes. Understand this: men are what the moment requires; being soft-hearted doesn't suit a soldier. This important assignment of yours allows no discussion; either say you'll do it, or make your fortune by some other route.

I’ll do’t, my lord.

I'll do it, my lord.

About it; and write happy when thou hast done. Mark, I say, instantly; and carry it so As I have set it down.

Get on with it; and consider yourself a made man once you've finished. Note this — I mean at once; and manage it exactly as I've written it down.

I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats; If it be man’s work, I’ll do’t.

I can't pull a cart, or eat dry oats. If it's work for a man, I'll do it.

Sir, you have show’d today your valiant strain, And fortune led you well: you have the captives Who were the opposites of this day’s strife: I do require them of you, so to use them As we shall find their merits and our safety May equally determine.

Sir, today you have shown your brave breeding, and fortune has favoured you. You hold the prisoners who were our enemies in this day's battle. I demand them from you, so that they may be treated as their deserts and our own safety together decide.

Sir, I thought it fit To send the old and miserable King To some retention and appointed guard; Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, To pluck the common bosom on his side, And turn our impress’d lances in our eyes Which do command them. With him I sent the queen; My reason all the same; and they are ready Tomorrow, or at further space, to appear Where you shall hold your session. At this time We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend; And the best quarrels in the heat are curs’d By those that feel their sharpness. The question of Cordelia and her father Requires a fitter place.

Sir, I thought it right to send the old and wretched King away to confinement under an appointed guard. His age has a power in it to charm people, and his title still more, to draw the hearts of the common people to his side and turn the conscripted spearmen against the eyes of us who command them. I sent the queen with him, for exactly the same reason; and they will be ready tomorrow, or at a later time, to appear wherever you hold your trial. Right now we are sweating and bleeding; friends have lost their friends, and in the heat of the moment even the best causes are cursed by those who feel their sting. The case of Cordelia and her father calls for a more suitable setting.

Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of this war, Not as a brother.

Sir, with your permission, I regard you as no more than a subordinate in this war, not as an equal.

That’s as we list to grace him. Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers; Bore the commission of my place and person; The which immediacy may well stand up And call itself your brother.

That depends on how far we choose to honour him. I think you might have asked what I wanted before you spoke so freely. He led our forces; he carried the authority of my rank and my person; that closeness to me may well stand up and call itself your brother.

Not so hot: In his own grace he doth exalt himself, More than in your addition.

Not so fast: it is by his own merits that he raises himself, not by any titles you give him.

In my rights, By me invested, he compeers the best.

Invested with my rights by me, he is the equal of the best.

That were the most, if he should husband you.

That would be the most he could be, if he married you.

Jesters do oft prove prophets.

Mockers often turn out to be prophets.

Holla, holla! That eye that told you so look’d but asquint.

Wait a moment, wait a moment! The eye that told you that was squinting.

Lady, I am not well; else I should answer From a full-flowing stomach. General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine: Witness the world that I create thee here My lord and master.

Madam, I am not well; otherwise I would answer you out of a stomach overflowing with anger. General, take my soldiers, my prisoners, my inheritance; dispose of them and of me. The fortress is yours. Let the world witness that here and now I make you my lord and master.

Mean you to enjoy him?

Do you mean to have him for yourself?

The let-alone lies not in your good will.

Stopping it isn't in your power to decide.

Nor in thine, lord.

Nor in yours, my lord.

Half-blooded fellow, yes.

It is, you half-bred fellow.

[To Edmund.] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.

[To Edmund.] Let the drum beat, and prove that my claim is yours.

Stay yet; hear reason: Edmund, I arrest thee On capital treason; and, in thine arrest, This gilded serpent. [pointing to Goneril.] For your claim, fair sister, I bar it in the interest of my wife; ’Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord, And I her husband contradict your bans. If you will marry, make your loves to me, My lady is bespoke.

Wait a moment; listen to reason. Edmund, I arrest you for treason punishable by death; and, along with you, this gilded snake. [pointing to Goneril.] As for your claim, dear sister-in-law, I forbid it in my wife's interest; she is already secretly engaged to this lord, and I, her husband, object to your marriage announcement. If you want to marry, make love to me; my lady is already taken.

An interlude!

What a farce!

Thou art arm’d, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound: If none appear to prove upon thy person Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, There is my pledge. [Throwing down a glove.] I’ll make it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less Than I have here proclaim’d thee.

You are armed, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound. If nobody comes forward to prove on your own body your hideous, plain and many acts of treason, here is my challenge. [He throws down a glove.] I'll prove it on your heart, before I eat another mouthful of bread, that you are nothing less than what I have declared you here.

Sick, O, sick!

I'm ill, oh, I'm ill!

[Aside.] If not, I’ll ne’er trust medicine.

[Aside.] If you're not, I'll never trust poison again.

There’s my exchange. [Throwing down a glove.] What in the world he is That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach, On him, on you, who not? I will maintain My truth and honour firmly.

There's my answering pledge. [He throws down a glove.] Whoever in the world he may be who calls me a traitor, he lies like a villain. Summon him with your trumpet. Whoever dares come forward — against him, against you, against anyone at all — I will firmly defend my truth and my honour.

A herald, ho!

A herald, here!

Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, All levied in my name, have in my name Took their discharge.

Rely on your own courage alone; for your soldiers, all of them recruited in my name, have been discharged in my name.

My sickness grows upon me.

My illness is getting worse.

She is not well. Convey her to my tent.

She is not well. Take her to my tent.

Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound And read out this.

Come here, herald. Let the trumpet sound, and read this out.

Sound, trumpet!

Sound the trumpet!

[Reads.] ‘If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in his defence.’

[He reads.] 'If any man of rank or title in the ranks of this army will maintain against Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a traitor many times over, let him come forward by the third sounding of the trumpet. Edmund is confident in his own defence.'

Sound!

Sound it!

Again!

Again!

Again!

Again!

Ask him his purposes, why he appears Upon this call o’ the trumpet.

Ask him what he intends, and why he has appeared at this call of the trumpet.

What are you? Your name, your quality? and why you answer This present summons?

Who are you? Your name, your rank? And why do you answer this present summons?

Know my name is lost; By treason’s tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit. Yet am I noble as the adversary I come to cope.

Understand that my name is lost, gnawed bare and eaten away by the teeth of treachery. Yet I am as noble as the opponent I have come to fight.

Which is that adversary?

Who is that opponent?

What’s he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester?

Who is it that answers for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester?

Himself, what say’st thou to him?

He answers for himself. What do you have to say to him?

Draw thy sword, That if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine. Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, My oath, and my profession: I protest, Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence, Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor; False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father; Conspirant ’gainst this high illustrious prince; And, from the extremest upward of thy head To the descent and dust beneath thy foot, A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou ‘No,’ This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, Thou liest.

Draw your sword, so that if what I say offends a noble heart, your arm can win you justice. Here is mine. Look: this is the right my honours, my oath and my knighthood give me. I declare, in spite of your strength, your youth, your rank and your high position, in spite of your conquering sword and your brand-new good fortune, in spite of your courage and your heart, that you are a traitor: false to your gods, your brother and your father; a conspirator against this high and illustrious prince; and, from the very top of your head down to the dust beneath your foot, a traitor as spotted as a toad. If you say 'No,' this sword, this arm, and all the spirit I have are ready to prove upon your heart, which is what I am aiming at, that you are lying.

In wisdom I should ask thy name; But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes, What safe and nicely I might well delay By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn. Back do I toss those treasons to thy head, With the hell-hated lie o’erwhelm thy heart; Which for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise, This sword of mine shall give them instant way, Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak!

Prudence says I should ask your name; but since your appearance is so handsome and soldierly, and your tongue breathes some hint of good birth, the delay that the rules of knighthood would safely and properly allow me, I scorn and reject. I throw those charges of treason back in your face, and crush your heart with the lie that hell itself hates; and since for the moment they only glance off you and hardly bruise, this sword of mine will drive them straight home, where they will stay for ever. Trumpets, speak!

Save him, save him!

Spare him, spare him!

This is mere practice, Gloucester: By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish’d, But cozen’d and beguil’d.

This is nothing but a trick, Gloucester. By the law of arms you were not obliged to fight an unnamed opponent. You are not beaten, but cheated and deceived.

Shut your mouth, dame, Or with this paper shall I stop it. Hold, sir; Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil. No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it.

Shut your mouth, madam, or I'll stop it with this paper. Here, sir; you who are worse than any name I could call you, read your own wickedness. No tearing it up, madam; I can see you recognise it.

Say if I do, the laws are mine, not thine: Who can arraign me for’t?

Suppose I do recognise it: the laws are mine, not yours. Who can put me on trial for it?

Most monstrous! O! Know’st thou this paper?

Utterly monstrous! Oh! Do you know this paper?

Ask me not what I know.

Don't ask me what I know.

[To an Officer, who goes out.] Go after her; she’s desperate; govern her.

[To an officer, who goes out.] Go after her; she is desperate; keep her under control.

What you have charg’d me with, that have I done; And more, much more; the time will bring it out. ’Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou That hast this fortune on me? If thou’rt noble, I do forgive thee.

What you have accused me of, I have done — and more, far more; time will bring it all out. It's over, and so am I. But who are you who have had this luck against me? If you are nobly born, I forgive you.

Let’s exchange charity. I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; If more, the more thou hast wrong’d me. My name is Edgar and thy father’s son. The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us: The dark and vicious place where thee he got Cost him his eyes.

Let us forgive each other. My blood is no lower than yours, Edmund; if it is higher, then the greater is the wrong you have done me. My name is Edgar, and I am your father's son. The gods are just, and out of the sweet vices we enjoy they make the weapons that torment us: the dark and sinful place where he begot you cost him his eyes.

Thou hast spoken right, ’tis true; The wheel is come full circle; I am here.

You have spoken rightly; it's true. The wheel has come full circle; here I am.

Methought thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee. Let sorrow split my heart if ever I Did hate thee or thy father.

I thought your very way of walking foretold a royal nobility. I must embrace you. Let grief split my heart if I ever hated you or your father.

Worthy prince, I know’t.

Worthy prince, I know it.

Where have you hid yourself? How have you known the miseries of your father?

Where have you been hiding? How did you learn about your father's sufferings?

By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale; And when ’tis told, O that my heart would burst! The bloody proclamation to escape That follow’d me so near,—O, our lives’ sweetness! That with the pain of death we’d hourly die Rather than die at once!—taught me to shift Into a madman’s rags; t’assume a semblance That very dogs disdain’d; and in this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost; became his guide, Led him, begg’d for him, sav’d him from despair; Never,—O fault!—reveal’d myself unto him Until some half hour past, when I was arm’d; Not sure, though hoping of this good success, I ask’d his blessing, and from first to last Told him my pilgrimage. But his flaw’d heart, Alack, too weak the conflict to support! ’Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly.

By nursing him through them, my lord. Listen to a short story; and when it is told, oh, I wish my heart would burst! To escape the proclamation of death that followed so close behind me — oh, the sweetness of our lives, that we would rather die hourly in the agony of dying than die once and be done! — it taught me to change into a madman's rags, to take on an appearance that even dogs looked down on. And in this outfit I met my father with his bleeding sockets, their precious stones just lost. I became his guide, led him, begged for him, saved him from despair. Never — oh, my fault! — did I reveal myself to him until about half an hour ago, when I was armed. Not certain, though hoping for this good outcome, I asked his blessing and told him my whole journey from beginning to end. But his cracked heart — alas, too weak to bear the struggle — between two extremes of feeling, joy and grief, burst while he smiled.

This speech of yours hath mov’d me, And shall perchance do good, but speak you on; You look as you had something more to say.

This speech of yours has moved me, and it may possibly do some good. But go on speaking. You look as if you had something more to say.

If there be more, more woeful, hold it in; For I am almost ready to dissolve, Hearing of this.

If there is more, and more sorrowful, keep it back; because I am nearly ready to melt away just from hearing this.

This would have seem’d a period To such as love not sorrow; but another, To amplify too much, would make much more, And top extremity. Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man Who, having seen me in my worst estate, Shunn’d my abhorr’d society; but then finding Who ’twas that so endur’d, with his strong arms He fastened on my neck, and bellow’d out As he’d burst heaven; threw him on my father; Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him That ever ear receiv’d, which in recounting His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded, And there I left him tranc’d.

This would have seemed the limit to people who do not love sorrow; but a second grief, piled on top of too much already, would make it far greater and go beyond the extreme. While I was loud in my mourning, a man came up who, having seen me in my worst condition, had avoided my hateful company; but then, finding out who it was who had endured all that, he clasped my neck in his strong arms and howled as if he would break heaven open. He threw himself on my father, and told the most pitiful story of Lear and himself that any ear ever received; and as he told it his grief grew so powerful that the strings of his life began to snap. Just then the trumpets sounded twice, and I left him there in a faint.

But who was this?

But who was this?

Kent, sir, the banish’d Kent; who in disguise Follow’d his enemy king and did him service Improper for a slave.

Kent, sir, the banished Kent, who in disguise followed the king who was his enemy and did him service too low for a slave.

Help, help! O, help!

Help, help! Oh, help!

What kind of help?

What kind of help?

Speak, man.

Speak, man.

What means this bloody knife?

What does this bloody knife mean?

’Tis hot, it smokes; It came even from the heart of—O! she’s dead!

It is hot, it is still steaming. It came straight from the heart of — oh, she is dead!

Who dead? Speak, man.

Who is dead? Speak, man.

Your lady, sir, your lady; and her sister By her is poisoned; she hath confesses it.

Your wife, sir, your wife; and her sister has been poisoned by her. She has confessed it.

I was contracted to them both, all three Now marry in an instant.

I was engaged to them both. Now all three of us are married in a single moment.

Here comes Kent.

Here comes Kent.

Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead. This judgement of the heavens that makes us tremble Touches us not with pity. O, is this he? The time will not allow the compliment Which very manners urges.

Bring out their bodies, whether they are alive or dead. This judgement of the heavens, which makes us tremble, moves us to no pity. Oh, is this him? The occasion does not allow the courtesy that simple good manners demands.

I am come To bid my King and master aye good night: Is he not here?

I have come to say goodnight forever to my King and master. Is he not here?

Great thing of us forgot! Speak, Edmund, where’s the King? and where’s Cordelia?

What a great thing we have forgotten! Speak, Edmund — where is the King, and where is Cordelia?

Seest thou this object, Kent?

Do you see this sight, Kent?

Alack, why thus?

Alas, why has it come to this?

Yet Edmund was belov’d. The one the other poisoned for my sake, And after slew herself.

And yet Edmund was loved. The one poisoned the other for my sake, and then killed herself.

Even so. Cover their faces.

So it is. Cover their faces.

I pant for life. Some good I mean to do, Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send, Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writ Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia; Nay, send in time.

I am gasping for breath. I mean to do some good, in spite of my own nature. Send quickly — be quick about it — to the castle; because my written order condemns the lives of Lear and Cordelia. No, send in time!

Run, run, O, run!

Run, run, oh, run!

To who, my lord? Who has the office? Send Thy token of reprieve.

To whom, my lord? Who is in charge of it? Send your proof that the order is cancelled.

Well thought on: take my sword, Give it the captain.

Well thought of. Take my sword; give it to the captain.

Haste thee for thy life.

Hurry, as you value your life.

He hath commission from thy wife and me To hang Cordelia in the prison, and To lay the blame upon her own despair, That she fordid herself.

He has orders from your wife and me to hang Cordelia in the prison and to put the blame on her own despair, as if she had destroyed herself.

The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile.

May the gods protect her! Carry him out of here for now.

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stone. Had I your tongues and eyes, I’ld use them so That heaven’s vault should crack. She’s gone for ever! I know when one is dead, and when one lives; She’s dead as earth. Lend me a looking glass; If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Why, then she lives.

Howl, howl, howl, howl! Oh, you are men made of stone. If I had your tongues and eyes, I would use them so that the roof of heaven would split. She is gone forever! I know when someone is dead and when someone is alive. She is as dead as the earth. Lend me a mirror. If her breath will mist or cloud the glass, then she is alive.

Is this the promis’d end?

Is this the end the world was promised?

Or image of that horror?

Or a picture of that horror?

Fall, and cease!

Let everything fall and come to an end!

This feather stirs; she lives! If it be so, It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows That ever I have felt.

This feather moves — she is alive! If that is so, it is a piece of luck that makes up for all the sorrows I have ever felt.

O, my good master! [Kneeling.]

Oh, my good master! [He kneels.]

Prythee, away!

Please, go away!

’Tis noble Kent, your friend.

It is noble Kent, your friend.

A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! I might have sav’d her; now she’s gone for ever! 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.

A plague on all of you, murderers, traitors, every one! I could have saved her; now she is gone forever! Cordelia, Cordelia! Wait a little. Ah! What is it you say? Her voice was always soft, gentle and low — an excellent thing in a woman. I killed the slave who was hanging you.

’Tis true, my lords, he did.

It is true, my lords, he did.

Did I not, fellow? I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion I would have made them skip. I am old now, And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you? Mine eyes are not o’ the best, I’ll tell you straight.

Didn't I, fellow? There was a time when with my good sharp curved sword I would have made them jump. I am old now, and these troubles wear me down. Who are you? My eyes are not the best; I will tell you in a moment.

If Fortune brag of two she lov’d and hated, One of them we behold.

If Fortune ever boasts of two people she loved and hated, we are looking at one of them.

This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent?

My eyes are dim. Aren't you Kent?

The same, Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?

The same man, your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?

He’s a good fellow, I can tell you that; He’ll strike, and quickly too:. He’s dead and rotten.

He is a good fellow, I can tell you that. He will strike, and quickly too. He is dead and rotted away.

No, my good lord; I am the very man.

No, my good lord; I am that very man.

I’ll see that straight.

I will see to that in a moment.

That from your first of difference and decay Have follow’d your sad steps.

I am the man who, from the first beginning of your change of fortune and ruin, has followed your sorrowful footsteps.

You are welcome hither.

You are welcome here.

Nor no man else. All’s cheerless, dark and deadly. Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves, And desperately are dead.

Neither I nor anyone else is welcome. Everything is joyless, dark and deadly. Your eldest daughters have destroyed themselves, and died in despair.

Ay, so I think.

Yes, so I think.

He knows not what he says; and vain is it That we present us to him.

He does not know what he is saying, and it is useless for us to introduce ourselves to him.

Very bootless.

Completely useless.

Edmund is dead, my lord.

Edmund is dead, my lord.

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; [to Edgar and Kent] you to your rights; 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!

That is only a small matter here. You lords and noble friends, hear what we intend. Whatever comfort can come to this great ruin shall be provided. As for us, we will hand over our absolute power to him, for as long as this old majesty lives. [to Edgar and Kent] And you — back to your rights, with profit and such extra honours as your worth has more than earned. All friends shall receive the reward of their goodness, and all enemies the cup they deserve. Oh, look, look!

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! Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir. Do you see this? Look on her: look, her lips, Look there, look there!

And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, and you no breath at all? You will not come again, never, never, never, never, never! Please undo this button. Thank you, sir. Do you see this? Look at her — look, her lips, look there, look there!

He faints! My lord, my lord!

He is fainting! My lord, my lord!

Break, heart; I prythee break!

Break, heart; I beg you, break!

Look up, my lord.

Look up, my lord.

Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! He hates him That would upon the rack of this rough world Stretch him out longer.

Do not trouble his departing spirit. Oh, let him go! He would be no friend to him who wanted to stretch him out longer on the torture rack of this harsh world.

He is gone indeed.

He is truly gone.

The wonder is, he hath endur’d so long: He but usurp’d his life.

The amazing thing is that he held out so long: he was only holding onto a life that was no longer his.

Bear them from hence. Our present business Is general woe. [To Edgar and Kent.] Friends of my soul, you twain, Rule in this realm and the gor’d state sustain.

Carry them away from here. Our business right now is mourning for us all. [To Edgar and Kent.] Friends of my soul, the two of you, rule in this kingdom and hold up this wounded state.

I have a journey, sir, shortly to go; My master calls me, I must not say no.

I have a journey to make soon, sir; my master is calling me, and I cannot refuse him.

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.

We must submit to the burden of this sorrowful time; say what we feel, not what we are supposed to say. The oldest has suffered the most; we who are young will never see so much, nor live so long.