Act 5. Scene III - Page 2

charms in it, whose title more,
To pluck the common bosom on his side,
An turn our impress'd lances in our eyes
Which do command them. With him I sent the queen;
My reason all the same; and they are ready
To-morrow, or at further space, to appear
Where you shall hold your session. At this time
We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend;
And the best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed
By those that feel their sharpness:
The question of Cordelia and her father
Requires a fitter place.

ALBANY
Sir, by your patience,
I hold you but a subject of this war,
Not as a brother.

REGAN
That's as we list to grace him.
Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded,
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers;
Bore the commission of my place and person;
The which immediacy may well stand up,
And call itself your brother.

GONERIL
Not so hot:
In his own grace he doth exalt himself,
More than in your addition.

REGAN
In my rights,
By me invested, he compeers the best.

GONERIL
That were the most, if he should husband you.

REGAN
Jesters do oft prove prophets.

GONERIL
Holla, holla!
That eye that told you so look'd but a-squint.

REGAN
Lady, I am not well; else I should answer
From a full-flowing stomach. General,
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony;
Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine:
Witness the world, that I create thee here
My lord and master.

GONERIL
Mean you to enjoy him?

ALBANY
The let-alone lies not in your good will.

EDMUND
Nor in thine, lord.

ALBANY
Half-blooded fellow, yes.

REGAN
[To EDMUND] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine.

ALBANY
Stay yet; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee
On capital treason; and, in thine attaint,
This gilded serpent

Pointing to Goneril

For your claim, fair sister,
I bar it in the interest of my wife:
'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord,
And I, her husband, contradict your bans.
If you will marry, make your loves to me,
My lady is bespoke.

GONERIL
An interlude!

ALBANY
Thou art arm'd, Gloucester: let the trumpet sound:
If none appear to prove upon thy head
Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,
There is my pledge;

Throwing down a glove

I'll prove it on thy heart,
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
Than I have here proclaim'd thee.

REGAN
Sick, O, sick!

GONERIL
[Aside] If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine.

EDMUND
There's my exchange:

Throwing down a glove

what in the world he is