Let go my hand.
Here, friend’s another purse: in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man’s taking: fairies and gods
Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off:
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
Now fare ye well, good sir.
With all my heart.
Why I do trifle thus with his despair
Is done to cure it.
I play along with his attempts to kill himself in order to try and help him overcome his depression.
O you mighty gods!
This world I do renounce, and in your sights
Shake patiently my great affliction off:
If I could bear it longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff and loathe`d part of nature should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!—
Now, fellow, fare thee well.
What do you think Gloucester feels is so unbearable about his life?
And not start arguing with the will of the gods, I could let the snuffed candle of my life and the hated remains of what life is left to me fade away.
Gone, sir: farewell.—
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life itself
Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought,
By this had thought been past. Alive or dead?—
Ho, you sir! Friend! Hear you, sir! Speak!—
Thus might he pass indeed: yet he revives.—
What are you, sir?
I’m concerned that his imagination might steal away his life, given that he is so willing to die.
Away, and let me die.
Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air —
So many fathom down precipitating —
Thou’dst shivered like an egg: but thou dost breathe,
Hast heavy substance, bleed’st not, speak’st, art sound.
Ten masts at each make not the altitude
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell:
Thy life’s a miracle. Speak yet again.
How do you think Edgar hopes his father’s despair will be cured by believing he has miraculously survived the fall from the cliff top?
But have I fall’n or no?
From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.
Boundary between sea and land.