Give me your hand: you are now within a foot
Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon
Would I not
Let go my hand.
Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel
Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies and
Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther off;
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going.
Now fare you well, good sir.
With all my heart.
Why I do trifle thus with his despair
Is done to cure it.
[Kneeling] O you mighty gods!
This world I do renounce, and, in your sights,
Shake patiently my great
If I could bear it longer, and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff and
loathed part of nature should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!
Now, fellow, fare thee well.
He falls forward
Gone, sir: farewell.
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life, when life itself
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?
Away, and let me die.
Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,
So many fathom down precipitating,
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.
But have I fall'n, or no?
From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.
Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark so far
seen or heard: do but look up.
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