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William Macready [1857], King Lear. A Tragedy, in five acts, by William Shakespeare (Thomas Hailes Lacy [etc.], London) [word count] [S41000].
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Scene III. —The Duke of Albany's Palace. Enter Goneril and Edmund, L.; Oswald meeting them, R. 2 E.

Goneril.
Welcome, my lord: I marvel, our mild husband
Not met us on the way:—Now, where's your master?

Oswald.
Madam, within; but never man so chang'd:
I told him of the army that was landed;
He smil'd at it: I told him, you were coming;
His answer was, “The worse.”
What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive.

Goneril.
Then shall you go no farther. (to Edmund)
It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs,
Which tie him to an answer: Our wishes, on the way,
May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
Hasten his musters and conduct his powers:
I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us.
Wear this; (giving a ring) spare speech;
Conceive, and fare thee well.

Edmund.
Yours in the ranks of death.

Goneril.
My most dear Gloster! Exit Edmund, L.
O, the difference of man, and man!
To thee a woman's services are due;
My fool usurps my body.

Oswald.
Madam, here comes my lord.
Exit, L.

-- 58 --

Enter Albany, R. 2 E.

Goneril.
I have been worth the whistle.

Albany.
O Goneril!
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face.—What have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would lick,
Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded.
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
A man, a prince, by him so benefitted?

Goneril.
Milk-liver'd man!
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs:
Where's thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sitt'st still, and cry'st,
“Alack! why does he so?”

Albany.
See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid, as in woman.

Goneril.
O, vain fool!
Enter a Messenger, L.

Albany.
What news?

Messen.
O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead:
Slain by his servant, who interposed his arm to save
The eyes of Gloster.

Albany.
Gloster's eyes!

Messen.
A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse
Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword
To his great master; who, thereat enrag'd,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead;
But not without that harmful stroke which since
Hath pluck'd him after.

Albany.
This shows you are above,
Yon justiciers, that these our nether crimes
So speedily can venge!—But, O, poor Gloster!
Lost he his other eye?

Messen.
Both, both, my lord. (gives letter to Goneril)
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
'Tis from your sister.

-- 59 --

Goneril. (aside)
One way I like this well;
But being widow, and my Gloster with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life: I'll read, and answer.
Exit, L.

Albany.
Where was his son, when they did take his eyes?

Messen.
Come with my lady hither.

Albany.
He is not here.

Messen.
No, my good lord; I met him back again.

Albany.
Knows he the wickedness?

Messen.
Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him,
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
Might have a freer course.

Albany.
Gloster, I live
To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king,
And to revenge thine eyes.—Come hither, friend;
Tell me what more thou knowest. Exeunt, R. Re-enter Goneril and Oswald, L.
It was sad ignorance Gloster's eyes being out,
To let him live: where he arrives he'll move
All hearts against us. It were well dispatch
His nighted life. Take this note. (gives letter)
With all speed seek out lord Edmund, to his
Own hand give this: so fare you well,
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
Preferment falls on him, that cuts him off.
Exeunt Goneril, R. 2 E., Steward, L. 2 E.
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William Macready [1857], King Lear. A Tragedy, in five acts, by William Shakespeare (Thomas Hailes Lacy [etc.], London) [word count] [S41000].
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