My unprovided body, lanc’d mine arm;
But when he saw my best alarum’d spirits,
Bold in the quarrel’s right, rous’d to the encounter,
Or whether gasted by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled.
Glou.
Let him fly far;
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
And found—dispatch’d.—The noble duke my master,
My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight:
By his authority I will proclaim it,
That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks,
Bringing the murderous coward to the stake;
He that conceals him, death.
Edm.
When I dissuaded him from his intent,
And found him pight to do it, with curst speech
I threaten’d to discover him: he replied,
‘Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think,
If I would stand against thee, would the reposal
Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee
Make thy words faith’d? No: what I should deny
As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce
My very character, I’d turn it all
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice:
And thou must make a dullard of the world,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potential spurs
To make thee seek it.
Glou.
Strong and fast’ned villain!
Would he deny his letter?—I never got him.
[Trumpets within.]
Hark, the duke’s trumpets! I know not why he comes.—
All ports I’ll bar; the villain shall not scape;
The duke must grant me that: besides, his picture
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
May have due note of him; and of my land,
Loyal and natural boy, I’ll work the means
To make thee capable.
[Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants.]
Corn.
How now, my noble friend! since I came hither,—
Which I can call but now,—I have heard strange news.
Reg.
If it be true, all vengeance comes too short
Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord?
Glou.
O madam, my old heart is crack’d,—it’s crack’d!
Reg.
What, did my father’s godson seek your life?
He whom my father nam’d? your Edgar?
Glou.
O lady, lady, shame would have it hid!
Reg.
Was he not companion with the riotous knights
That tend upon my father?
Glou.
I know not, madam:—
It is too bad, too bad.
Edm.
Yes, madam, he was of that consort.
Reg.
No marvel then though he were ill affected:
‘Tis they have put him on the old man’s death,
To have the expense and waste of his revenues.
I have this present evening from my sister
Been well inform’d of them; and with such cautions
That if they come to sojourn at my house,
I’ll not be there.
Corn.
Nor I, assure thee, Regan.—
Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father
A childlike office.
Edm.
‘Twas my duty, sir.
Glou.
He did bewray his practice; and receiv’d
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him.
Corn.
Is he pursu’d?
Glou.
Ay, my good lord.
Corn.
If he be taken, he shall never more
Be fear’d of doing harm: make your own purpose,
How in my strength you please.—For you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
So much commend itself, you shall be ours:
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need;
You we first seize on.
Edm.
I shall serve you, sir,
Truly, however else.
Glou.
For him I thank your grace.
Corn.
You know not why we came to visit you,—
Reg.
Thus out of season, threading dark-ey’d night:
Occasions, noble Gloster, of some poise,
Wherein we must have use of your advice:—
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
Of differences, which I best thought it fit
To answer from our home; the several messengers
From hence attend despatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow
Your needful counsel to our business,
Which craves the instant use.
Glou.
I serve you, madam:
Your graces are right welcome.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. Before Gloster’s Castle.
[Enter Kent and Oswald, severally.]
Osw.
Good dawning to thee, friend: art of this house?
Kent.
Ay.
Osw.
Where may we set our horses?
Kent.
I’ the mire.
Osw.
Pr’ythee, if thou lov’st me, tell me.
Kent.
I love thee not.
Osw.
Why then, I care not for thee.
Kent.
If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.
Osw.
Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.
Kent.