At the livery, the NG is feeling drunk and miserable about the depths to which he's sunk. He stares at Steve, whose face is so deservedly covered in porridge, and shakes his head. With great sadness, he picks up a rag and goes to clean up the bastard. "One sorry-ass, shit eating cocksucker," he sighs, and may Franklin Ajaye, who so very sweetly plays the NG, live long and prosper.

And now, after many death scenes watched in three seasons, and after I thought they could never top the Rev's exit, this damn show goes and knocks another one right out of the park. Chesterton, swaddled and sitting in his chair, sits in the dark theater, holding Jack's hand. Langrishe describes the fabrics that will be hung in the space and how Claudia and the Countess have incorporated the symbols for comedy and tragedy into the designs." Big lie, the masks" Chesterton wheezes. "Same damn thing, Jack -- comedy and tragedy." (In that case, is this the funniest show on TV, or what?") Jack pauses and paints a picture with words for his friend. "The curtain rises. The stage is set before us," he says. "What's the rake?" the dying Chesterton asks. "Eighteen to one, old trouper," Langrishe answers. Chesterton begins to nod off. "Dost thou know Dover? There is a cliff whose high unbending head looks fearfully on the confined deep. Bring me back to the brim of it, and from that place...I shall no leading need." Could be so cheesy, but y'all, it is devastatingly moving. Brian Cox and Aubrey Morris, you old devils. "Here's the fly tower," he continues, giving a little stage direction for this, Chesterton's final act. "If you mount up, take firm a rail in each hand..." he looks sweetly at his friend, "I'll boost your bum, darling." Chesterton smiles a little, eyes still closed. "Here's the place," he mumbles, holding Jack's hand and back to the Lear. "How fearful and dizzy it is to cast one's eyes so low," he says. "Set me where you stand," Chesterton tells him, smiling. "Let go my hand." Jack slips his hand out from the man's grasp and tells him "you're now within a foot." And he is. Fading, calling out for one last line, Chesterton dies. Jack heaves a heavy sigh and, as the rest of the troupe emerges from the shadows where they have been watching this final performance, he crosses himself and says the Lord's prayer.