Gon.
Our Sisters Pow'rs already are arriv'd,
And She her self has promis'd to prevent
The Night with her Approach: have you provided
The Banquet I bespoke for her Reception
At my Tent?

Att.
So, please your Grace, we have.

Gon.
But thou, my Poysner, must prepare the Bowl
That Crowns this Banquet, when our Mirth is high,
The Trumpets sounding and the Flutes replying,
Then is the Time to give this fatal Draught
To this imperious Sister; if then our Arms succeed,
Edmund more dear than Victory is mine.
But if Defeat or Death it self attend me,
'Twill charm my Ghost to think I've left behind me [Trumpet.
No happy Rival: heark, she comes. [Exeunt. Enter Bastard in his Tent.

Bast.
To both these Sisters have I sworn my Love,
Each jealous of the other, as the Stung
Are of the Adder; neither can be held
If both remain Alive; where shall I fix?
Cornwall is Dead, and Regan's empty Bed
Seems cast by Fortune for me, but already
I have enjoy'd her, and bright Gonerill
With equal Charms brings dear variety,
And yet untasted Beauty: I will use
Her Husband's Countenance for the Battail, then
Usurp at once his Bed and Throne. [Enter Officers.
My trusty Scouts y' are well return'd, have ye descry'd

The Strength and Posture of the Enemy?

Off.
We have, and were surpriz'd to find
The banisht Kent return'd, and at their Head;
Your Brother Edgar on the Rear; Old Gloster
(a moving Spectacle) led through their Ranks,
Whose pow'rfull Tongue, and more prevailing Wrongs,
Have so enrag'd their rustick Spirits, that with
Th' approaching Dawn we must expect their Battle.

Bast.
You bring a welcome Hearing; Each to his Charge.
Line well your Ranks and stand on your Award,
To Night repose you, and i'th' Morn we'll give
The Sun a Sight that shall be worth his Rising. [Exeunt.

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