Corn.
How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither,
Which I can call but now, I have heard strange news.

Reg.
If it be true, all vengeance comes too short,
Which can pursue th' offender. How does my lord?

Glo.
O Madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd.

Reg.
What, did my father's godson seek your life?
He whom my father nam'd? Your Edgar?

Glo.
O lady, lady, Shame would have it hid.

Reg.
Was he not companion with the riotous Knights,
That tend upon my father?

Glo.
I know not, Madam. 'Tis too bad, too bad.

Edm.
Yes, Madam, he was of that consort.

Reg.
No marvel then, though he were ill affected;
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
To have th' expence and waste of his revenues.
I have this present evening from my sister
Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions,
That if they come to sojourn at my house,
I'll not be there.

Corn.
Nor I, I assure thee, Regan.
Edmund, I hear, that you have shewn your father
A child-like office.

Edm.
'Twas my duty, Sir.

Glo.
He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd
This hurt you see striving to apprehend him.

Corn.
Is he pursu'd?

Glo.
Ay, my good lord.

Corn.
If he be taken, he shall never more
Be fear'd of doing harm. Make your own purpose,
How in my strength you please. As for you, Edmund,

Whose virtue and obedience in this instance
So much commends itself, you shall be ours;
Natures of such deep Trust we shall much need:
You we first seize on.

Edm.
I shall serve you, Sir,
Truly, however else.

Glo.
I thank your Grace.

Corn.
You know not why we came to visit you—

Reg.
Thus out of season ^{1 note}

Glo.
I serve you, Madam.
Your Graces are right welcome. [Exeunt.

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