Corn.

Post speedily to my Lord your Husband, shew him this Letter, the Army of France is landed; seek out the Traitor Gloster.

Reg.

Hang him instantly.

Gon.

Pluck out his Eyes.

Corn.

Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our Sister Company; the revenges we are bound to take upon your traiterous Father, are not fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke where you are going, to a most festinate Preparation; we are bound to the like. Our Posts shall be swift, and intelligent betwixt us. Farewel dear Sister, farewel my Lord of Gloster.

Stew.
My Lord of Gloster had convey'd him hence.
Some five or six and thirty of his Knights,
Hot Questrists after him, met him at Gate,
Who, with some other of the Lords dependants,
Are gone with him toward Dover; where they boast
To have well armed Friends.

Corn.
Get Horses for your Mistress.

Gon.
Farewel, sweet Lord, and Sister. [Exeunt.

Corn.
Edmund farewel: go seek the Traitor Gloster,
Pinion him like a Thief, bring him before us:
Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of Justice; yet our power
Shall do a court'sie to our wrath, which Men
May blame, but not controul. Enter Gloster Prisoner, and Servants.
Who's there? the Traitor?

Reg.
Ingrateful Fox! 'tis he.

Corn.
Bind fast his corky Arms.

Glo.
What mean your Graces?
Good my Friends, consider you are my Guests:
Do me no foul play, Friends,

Corn.
Bind him I say. [They bind him.

Reg.
Hard, hard; O filthy Traitor!

Glo.
Unmerciful Lady, as you are, I'm none.

Corn.
To this Chair bind him,
Villain, thou shalt find.

Glo.
By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done
To pluck me by the Beard.

Reg.
So white, and such a Traitor?

Glo.
Naughty Lady,
These Hairs which thou do'st ravish from my Chin
Will quicken and accuse thee. I am your Host,
With Robbers hands, my hospitable favours
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do?

Corn.
Come, Sir, what Letters had you late from France?

Reg.
Be simple answer'd, for we know the truth.

Corn.
And what Confederacy have you with the Traitors
Late footed in the Kingdom?

Reg.
To whose hands
You have sent the Lunatick King? speak.

Glo.
I have a Letter guessingly set down
Which came from one that's of a neutral Heart,
And not from one oppos'd.

Corn.
Cunning—

Reg.
And false.

Corn.
Where hast thou sent the King?

Glo.
To Dover.

Reg.
Wherefore to Dover?
Wast thou not charg'd at peril?—

Corn.
Wherefore to Dover? Let him answer that.

Glo.
I am ty'd to th' Stake,
And I must stand the Course.

Reg.
Wherefore to Dover?

Glo.
Because I would not see thy cruel Nails
Pluck out his poor old Eyes; nor thy fierce Sister,
In his Anointed Flesh, stick boarish phangs.
The Sea, with such a storm as his bare Head,
In Hell-black-night indur'd, would have buoy'd up
And quench'd the Steeled fires:
Yet poor old Heart, he holp the Heav'ns to rain.
If Wolves had at thy Gate howl'd that stern time,
Thou shouldst have said, good Porter turn the Key;
All Cruels else subscribe: but I shall see
The winged Vengeance overtake such Children.

Corn.
See't shalt thou never. Fellows hold the Chair.
Upon these Eyes of thine, I'll set my foot. [Gloster is held down while Cornwall treads out one of his Eyes.

Glo.
He that will think to live, 'till he be old,
Give me some help,—O cruel! O you gods!

Reg.
One side will mock another; th' other too.

Corn.
If you see Vengeance—

Ser.
Hold your hand, my Lord:
I have serv'd you ever since I was a Child:
But better service have I never done you,
Than now to bid you hold.

Reg.
How now, you Dog?

Ser.
If you did wear a Beard upon your Chin,
I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?

Corn.
My Villain! [Fight, in the scuffle Cornwall is wounded.

Ser.
Nay then come on, and take the chance of anger.

Reg.
Give me thy Sword. A Peasant stand up thus? [Kills him.

Ser.
Oh, I am slain—my Lord, you have one Eye left
To see some mischief on him. Oh— [Dies.

Corn.
Lest it see more, prevent it; Out vild gelly:
Where is thy luster now? [Treads out the other Eye.

Glo.
All dark and comfortless—
Where's my Son Edmund?

Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of Nature
To quit this horrid act.

Reg.
Out treacherous Villain,
Thou call'st on him that hates thee: It was he
That made the Overture of thy Treasons to us:
Who is too good to pity thee.

Glo.
O my follies! then Edgar was abus'd.
Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him.

Reg.
Go thrust him out at Gates, and let him smell
His way to Dover. [Exit with Gloster.
How is't my Lorld? How look you?

Corn.
I have receiv'd a hurt; follow me, Lady—
Turn out that Eyeless Villain; throw this Slave
Upon the Dunghil—Regan, I bleed apace,
Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm. [Exeunt.

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