treasons to thy head;With the hellhated lie o’erwhelm thy heart;
Which,—for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise,—
This sword of mine shall give them instant way,
Where they shall rest for ever.—Trumpets, speak!
[Alarums. They fight. Edmund falls.]
Alb.
Save him, save him!
Gon.
This is mere practice, Gloster:
By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer
An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish’d,
But cozen’d and beguil’d.
Alb.
Shut your mouth, dame,
Or with this paper shall I stop it:—Hold, sir;
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil:—
No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it.
[Gives the letter to Edmund.]
Gon.
Say if I do,—the laws are mine, not thine:
Who can arraign me for’t?
Alb.
Most monstrous!
Know’st thou this paper?
Gon.
Ask me not what I know.
[Exit.]
Alb.
Go after her: she’s desperate; govern her.
[To an Officer, who goes out.]
Edm.
What, you have charg’d me with, that have I done;
And more, much more; the time will bring it out:
‘Tis past, and so am I.—But what art thou
That hast this fortune on me? If thou’rt noble,
I do forgive thee.
Edg.
Let’s exchange charity.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more, the more thou hast wrong’d me.
My name is Edgar, and thy father’s son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us:
The dark and vicious place where thee he got
Cost him his eyes.
Edm.
Thou hast spoken right; ‘tis true;
The wheel is come full circle; I am here.
Alb.
Methought thy very gait did prophesy
A royal nobleness:—I must embrace thee:
Let sorrow split my heart if ever I
Did hate thee or thy father!
Edg.
Worthy prince, I know’t.
Alb.
Where have you hid yourself?
How have you known the miseries of your father?
Edg.
By nursing them, my lord.—List a brief tale;—
And when ‘tis told, O that my heart would burst!—
The bloody proclamation to escape,
That follow’d me so near,—O, our lives’ sweetness!
That with the pain of death we’d hourly die
Rather than die at once!)—taught me to shift
Into a madman’s rags; to assume a semblance
That very dogs disdain’d; and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,
Led him, begg’d for him, sav’d him from despair;
Never,—O fault!—reveal’d myself unto him
Until some half hour past, when I was arm’d;
Not sure, though hoping of this good success,
I ask’d his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw’d heart,—
Alack, too weak the conflict to support!—
‘Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly.
Edm.
This speech of yours hath mov’d me,
And shall perchance do good: but speak you on;
You look as you had something more to say.
Alb.
If there be more, more woeful, hold it in;
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this.
Edg.
This would have seem’d a period
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too much, would make much more,
And top extremity.
Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man
Who, having seen me in my worst estate,
Shunn’d my abhorr’d society; but then, finding
Who ‘twas that so endur’d, with his strong arms
He fastened on my neck, and bellow’d out
As he’d burst heaven; threw him on my father;
Told
