Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Edg. Edg.
Edg. Why I do trifle thus with his dispaire,
Edg. Is done to cure it.
Glou. Glou.
Glou. O you mighty Gods!
Glou. This world I do renounce, and in your sights
Glou. Shake
Glou. The Tragedie of King Lear.
Glou. Shake patiently my great affliction off:
Glou. If I could beare it longer, and not fall
Glou. To quarrell with your great opposelesse willes,
Glou. My snuffe, and loathed part of Nature should
Glou. Burne it selfe out. If Edgar liue, O blesse him:
Glou. Now Fellow, fare thee well.
Edg. Gone Sir, farewell:
Edg. And yet I know not how conceit may rob
Edg. The Treasury of life, when life it selfe
Edg. Yeelds to the Theft. Had he bin where he thought,
Edg. By this had thought bin past. Aliue, or dead?