Albany
:
O Goneril! You're not worth the dust which the rude wind, Blows in your face.
Albany
:
Where I could not be honest, I never yet was valiant.
[last lines]
Albany
:
The weight of this sad time we must obey; Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most: we that are young, Shall never see so much, nor live so long.