Act III, Scene vii: A Room in Gloster's Castle.
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| | Corn.: | |
| | Post speedily to my lord your husband, show him this letter:— | |
| | the army of France is landed.—Seek out the traitor Gloster. | |
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[Exeunt some of the Servants.]
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| | Reg.: | |
| | Hang him instantly. | |
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| | Gon.: | |
| | Pluck out his eyes. | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | How now! Where's the king? | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | Get horses for your mistress. | |
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| | Gon.: | |
| | Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. | |
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[Exeunt Goneril, Edmund, and Oswald.]
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| | Go seek the traitor Gloster, | |
| | Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. | |
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| | 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? | |
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[Re-enter servants, with Gloster.]
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| | Reg.: | |
| | Ingrateful fox! 'tis he. | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | Bind fast his corky arms. | |
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| | Glou.: | |
| | What mean your graces?—Good my friends, consider | |
| | You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends. | |
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| | Reg.: | |
| | Hard, hard.—O filthy traitor! | |
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| | Glou.: | |
| | Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none. | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | To this chair bind him.—Villain, thou shalt find,— | |
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[Regan plucks his beard.]
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| | Glou.: | |
| | By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done | |
| | To pluck me by the beard. | |
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| | Reg.: | |
| | So white, and such a traitor! | |
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| | Glou.: | |
| | Naughty lady, | |
| | These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin | |
| | Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host: | |
| | With robber's hands my hospitable favours | |
| | You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | Come, sir, what letters had you late from France? | |
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| | Reg.: | |
| | Be simple-answer'd, for we know the truth. | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | And what confederacy have you with the traitors | |
| | Late footed in the kingdom? | |
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| | Reg.: | |
| | To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? | |
| | Speak. | |
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| | Glou.: | |
| | I have a letter guessingly set down, | |
| | Which came from one that's of a neutral heart, | |
| | And not from one oppos'd. | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | Where hast thou sent the king? | |
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| | Reg.: | |
| | Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charg'd at peril,— | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that. | |
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| | Glou.: | |
| | I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course. | |
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| | Reg.: | |
| | Wherefore to Dover, sir? | |
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| | Glou.: | |
| | Because I would not see thy cruel nails | |
| | Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister | |
| | In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. | |
| | The sea, with such a storm as his bare head | |
| | In hell-black night endur'd, 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, | |
| | Thou shouldst have said, 'Good porter, turn the key.' | |
| | All cruels else subscrib'd:—but I shall see | |
| | The winged vengeance overtake such children. | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | See't shalt thou never.—Fellows, hold the chair. | |
| | Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot. | |
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[Gloster is held down in his chair, while Cornwall plucks out oneof his eyes and sets his foot on it.]
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| | Glou.: | |
| | He that will think to live till he be old, | |
| | Give me some help!—O cruel!—O ye gods! | |
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| | Reg.: | |
| | One side will mock another; the other too! | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | If you see vengeance,— | |
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| | First 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. | |
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| | First Serv. | |
| | If you did wear a beard upon your chin, | |
| | I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean? | |
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[Draws, and runs at him.]
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| | First Serv. | |
| | Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger. | |
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[Draws. They fight. Cornwall is wounded.]
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| | Reg.: | |
| | Give me thy sword[to another servant.]—A peasant stand up thus? | |
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[Snatches a sword, comes behind, and stabs him.]
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| | First Serv. | |
| | O, I am slain!—My lord, you have one eye left | |
| | To see some mischief on thim. O! | |
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| | Corn.: | |
| | Lest it see more, prevent it.—Out, vile jelly! | |
| | Where is thy lustre now? | |
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[Tears out Gloster's other eye and throws it on the ground.]
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| | Glou.: | |
| | All dark and comfortless.—Where's my son Edmund? | |
| | Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature | |
| | To quit this horrid act. | |
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| | 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. | |
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| | Glou.: | |
| | O my follies! Then Edgar was abus'd.— | |
| | Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him! | |
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| | Reg.: | |
| | Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell | |
| | His way to Dover.—How is't, my lord? How look you? | |
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| | 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. | |
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[Exit Cornwall, led by Regan; Servants unbind Gloster and leadhim out.]
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| | Second Serv. | |
| | I'll never care what wickedness I do, | |
| | If this man come to good. | |
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| | Third Serv. | |
| | If she live long, | |
| | And in the end meet the old course of death, | |
| | Women will all turn monsters. | |
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| | Second Serv. | |
| | Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam | |
| | To lead him where he would: his roguish madness | |
| | Allows itself to anything. | |
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| | Third Serv. | |
| | Go thou: I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs | |
| | To apply to his bleeding face. Now heaven help him! | |
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