EDGAR.
Here, father, take the shadow of this tree
For your good host; pray that the right may thrive:
If ever I return to you again,
I’ll bring you comfort.
GLOUCESTER.
Grace go with you, sir!
[Exit Edgar.]
Alarum and retreat within. Enter Edgar.
EDGAR.
Away, old man, give me thy hand, away!
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta’en:
Give me thy hand; come on!
GLOUCESTER.
No further, sir; a man may rot even here.
EDGAR.
What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure
Their going hence, even as their coming hither;
Ripeness is all. Come on.
GLOUCESTER.
And that’s true too.
[Exeunt.]