Leading his eyeless father. O, my liege, His wondrous story well deserves your leisure; Glost. Where's my liege? Conduct me to his knees, to hail His second birth of empire: My dear Edgar Glost, O, let me kiss once more that sceptred hand! hear. Hold, thou mistak'st the majesty; kneel here; Cordelia has our pow'r, Cordelia's queen, Glost. My pious son, more dear than my lost eyes. sage. Edmund, but that's a trifle, is expir'd. What more will touch you, your imperious daughters, Cord. O, fatal period of ill govern'd life! Thou serv'dst distress'd Cordelia; take her crown'd, Edg. Divine Cordelia, all the gods can witness Thy bright example shall convince the world, That truth and virtue shall at last succeed. 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. [Exeunt omnes. THE END. |