Gon.
Welcome my Lord, I marvel our mild Husband
Not met us on the way. Now, where's your Master?

Stew.
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. Of Gloster's Treachery,
And of the Loyal service of his Son,
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me Sot,

And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out:
What most he should dislike, seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive.

Gon.
Then shall you go no further.
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 Names at home, and give the Distaff
Into my Husband's hands. This trusty Servant
Shall pass between us: e'er long you are like to hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,
A Mistresses command. Wear this; spare Speech,
Decline your Head. This Kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy Spirits up into the Air:
Conceive, and fare thee well.

Bast.
Yours in the ranks of Death.

Gon.
My most dear Gloster. [Exit Bastard.
Oh, the difference of Man, and Man!
To thee a Woman's services are due,
My Fool usurps my Body.

Stew.
Madam, here comes my Lord. Enter Albany.

Gon.
I have been worth the whistle.

Alb.
Oh Gonerill,
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your Face.

Gon.
Milk-liver'd Man,
That bear'st a Cheek for blows, a Head of wrongs,
Who hast not in thy brows an Eye discerning
Thine honour, from thy suffering.

Alb.
See thy self, Devil:
Proper deformity seems not in the Fiend
So horrid as in Woman.

Gon.
Oh vain Fool. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
Oh my good Lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead,
Slain by his Servant, going to put out
The other Eye of Gloster.

Alb.
Gloster's Eyes?

Mes.
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.

Alb.
This shews you are above,
You Justices, that these our neither crimes
So speedily can venge. But O poor Gloster!
Lost he his other Eye?

Mes.
Both, both, my Lord.
This Letter, Madam, craves a speedy Answer:
'Tis from your Sister.

Gon.
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. Another way
The News is not so tart. I'll read, and answer. [Exit.

Alb.
Where was his Son, when they did take his Eyes?

Mes.
Come with my Lady hither.

Alb.
He is not here.

Mes.
No, my good Lord, I met him back again.

Alb.
Knows he the wickedness?

Mes.
Ay, my good Lord, 'twas he inform'd against him,
And quit the House of purpose, that their punishment
Might have the freer course.

Alb.
Gloster, I live
To thank thee for the love thou shew'dst the King,
And to revenge thine Eyes. Come hither Friend,
Tell me what more thou know'st. [Exeunt.

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