Corn.

Post speedily to my lord your husband; show him this letter:—the army of France is landed.—Seek out the traitor Gloster^{9 note}.

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 traitorous 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. Farewell, dear sister:—farewell, my lord of Gloster.

How now! Where's the king?

Osw.
My lord of Gloster hath 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 lord's dependants,
Are gone with him towards Dover, where they boast
To have well-armed friends.

Corn.
Get horses for your mistress.

Gon.
Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. [Exeunt Goneril, Edmund, and Oswald.

Corn.
Edmund, farewell.—Go, seek the traitor Gloster,

Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. [Exeunt other Servants.
Though well we may not pass upon his life
Without the form of justice, yet our power
Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not control. Who's there? The traitor? Re-enter Servants, with Gloster.

Reg.
Ingrateful fox! 'tis he.

Corn.
Bind fast his corky arms^{1 note}.

Glo.
What mean your graces?—Good my friends, consider
You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends.

Corn.
Bind him, I say. [Servants bind him.

Reg.
Hard, hard.—O filthy traitor!

Glo.
Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none^{2 note}.

Corn.
To this chair bind him.—Villain, thou shalt find— Regan plucks his Beard.

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 dost 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
Have you sent the lunatic 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 tied to the 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 rash boarish fangs^{3 note}
.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head^{4 note}
In hell-black night endured, would have buoy'd up,
And quench'd the stelled fires;
Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time^{5 note},
Thou should'st have said, “Good porter, turn the key,”
All cruels else subscrib'd^{6 note}: but I shall see

The winged vengeance overtake such children.

Corn.
See it shalt thou never.—Fellows, hold the chair.—
Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot.

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

Reg.
One side will mock another; the other too.

Corn.
If you see, vengeance,—

Serv.
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!

Serv.
If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean?

Corn.
My villain! [Draws and runs at him.

Serv.
Nay then, come on, and take the chance of anger. [Draws. Cornwall is wounded.

Reg.
Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus^{7 note}!

Serv.
O, I am slain!—My lord, you have one eye left
To see some mischief on him.—O! [Dies.

Corn.
Lest it see more, prevent it.—Out, vile jelly!
Where is thy lustre now?

Glo.
All dark and comfortless.—Where's my son Edmund?
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks^{8 note} 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.—
King gods, forgive me that, and prosper him!

Reg.
Go, thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
His way to Dover.—How is't, my lord? How look you?

Corn.
I have receiv'd a hurt.—Follow me, lady.
Turn out that eyeless villain:—throw this slave
Upon the dunghill.—Regan, I bleed apace:
Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm. [Exit Cornwall, led by Regan;—Servants unbind Gloster, and lead him out.

1 Serv.
I'll never care what wickedness I do^{9 note},
If this man comes to good.

2 Serv.
If she live long,
And in the end meet the old course of death,
Women will all turn monsters.

1 Serv.
Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam
To lead him where he would: his roguish madness
Allows itself to any thing.

2 Serv.
Go thou: I'll fetch some flax, and whites of eggs,
To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him^{10 note}! [Exeunt severally.

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