ALBANY

Oh Gonoril, you are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face, I fear your disposition That nature which contemnes it origin Cannot be bordered certain in it self, She that her self will sliver and disbranch From her material sap, perforce must wither, And come to deadly use. Wisdom and goodness, to the vild seem vild, Filths savour but themselves, what have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what have you performed? A father, and a gracious aged man Whose reverence even the head-lugd 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 beniflicted, If that the heavens do not their visible spirits Send quickly down to tame the vild offences, it will come Humanly must perforce pray on it self Like monsters of the deep. See thy self devil, proper deformity seems not in the fiend, so horid as in woman. Thou changed, and self-covered thing for shame Bemonster not thy feature, were't my fitness To let these hands obey my blood, They are apt enough to dislecate and tear Thy flesh and bones, how ere thou art a fiend, A woman's shape does shield thee. What news. Gloucesters eyes? This shows you are above your Justices, That these our neither crimes so speedily can venge. But Oh poor Gloucester lost he his other eye. Where was his son when they did take his eyes. He is not here. Knows he the wickedness. Gloucester I live to thank thee for the love thou shewedst the King, And to revenge thy eyes, come hither friend, Tell me what more thou knowest. Our very loving sister well bemet For this I hear the King is come to his daughter With others, whom the rigour of our state Forced to cry out, where I could not be honest I never yet was valiant, for this business It touches us, as France invades our land Not bolds the King, with others whom I fear, Most joust and heavy causes make oppose. Let us then determine with the ancient of war on our proceedings. I'll overtake you, speak. Stay till I have read the letter. Why fare thee well, I will overlook the paper. We will greet the time. Sir you have showed to day your valiant strain, And Fortune led you well you have the captives That were the opposites of this days strife, We do require then of you, so to use them, As we shall find their merits, and our safety May equally determine. Sir by your patience, I hold you but a subject of this war, not as a brother. The let alone lies not in your good will. Half blooded fellow, yes. Stay yet, hear reason, Edmund I arrest thee On capital treason, and in thine attaint, This gilded Serpent, for your claim fair sister I bore it in the interest of my wife, 'Tis she is subcontracted to this Lord And I her husband contradict the banes, If you will marry, make your love to me, My Lady is bespoke, thou art armed Gloucester, If none appear to prove upon thy head, Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, There is my pledge, isle prove it on thy heart Ere I taste bred, thou art in nothing less Then I have here proclaimed thee. A Herald ho. Trust to thy single virtue, for thy soldiers All levied in my name, have in my name took their discharge. She is not well, convey her to my tent, Come hither Herald, let the trumpet found, And read out this. Ask him his purposes why he appears Upon this call oth' trumpet. Which is that adversary? Save him, save him, Stop your mouth dame, or with this paper shall I stople it, thou worse then any thing, read thine own evil, nay no tearing Lady, I perceive you know't. Most monstrous knowest thou this paper? Go after her, she's desperate, govern her. Me thought thy very gate did prophecy, A royal nobleness I must embrace thee. Let sorrow split my heart if I did ever hate thee or thy father. Where have you hid your self? How have you known the Misery's of your father? If there be more, more woeful, hold it in, For I am almost ready to dissolve, hearing of this, But who was this. What kind of help, what means that bloody knife? Who man, speak? Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead, This Justice of the heavens that makes us tremble, Touches us not with pity. Oh 'tis he, the time will not allow The compliment that very manners urges. My Lord, I am guiltless as I am ignorant.