Before the Duke of Albany's Palace.
 Enter GONERIL and EDMUND.

Goneril	Welcome, my lord. I marvel our mild husband
	Not met us on the way.

                              Enter OSWALD.

									Now, where's your master?

Oswald	Madam, within; but never man so changed.
	I told him of the army that was landed;
	He smiled at it. I told him you were coming;
	His answer was 'The worse'. Of Gloucester's treachery,
	And of the loyal service of his son,
	When I informed him then he called me sot,
	And told me I had turned the wrong side out.
	What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;
	What like, offensive.

Goneril	[To EDMUND.]			Then shall you go no further.
	It is the cowish terror of his spirit
	That dares not undertake; he'll not feel wrongs
	Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way
	May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
	Hasten his musters and conduct his powers.
	I must change arms at home, and give the distaff
	Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
	Shall pass between us; ere long you are like to hear,
	If you dare venture in your own behalf,
	A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech.
												[Giving a favour.
	Decline your head; this kiss, if it durst speak,
	Would stretch thy spirits up into the air.
	Conceive, and fare thee well.

Edmund	Yours in the ranks of death.

Goneril								My most dear Gloucester!
												[Exit EDMUND.
	O, the difference of man and man!
	To thee a woman's services are due;
	A fool usurps my bed.

Oswald							Madam, here comes my lord.
												[Exit.
                              Enter ALBANY.

Goneril	I have been worth the whistle.

Albany									O Goneril,
	You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
	Blows in your face. I fear your disposition:
	That nature which contemns it origin
	Cannot be bordered certain in itself.
	She that herself will sliver and disbranch
	From her material sap perforce must wither
	And come to deadly use.

Goneril	No more; the text is foolish.

Albany	Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile;
	Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
	Tigers, not daughters, what have you performed?
	A father, and a gracious agd man,
	Whose reverence even the head-lugged 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 benefitted?
	If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
	Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
	It will come
	Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
	Like monsters of the deep.

Goneril								Milk-livered man!
	That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
	Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
	Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st
	Fools do those villains pity who are punished
	Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum?
	France spreads his banners in our noiseless land,
	With plumd helm thy state begins to threat,
	Whilst thou, a moral fool, sits still, and cries
	'Alack, why does he so?'

Albany							See thyself, devil!
	Proper deformity shows not in the fiend
	So horrid as in woman.

Goneril									O vain fool!

Albany	Thou changd and self-covered thing, for shame,
	Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness
	To let these hands obey my blood,
	They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
	Thy flesh and bones; howe'er thou art a fiend,
	A woman's shape doth shield thee.

Goneril	Marry, your manhood-mew!

                            Enter a MESSENGER.

Albany	What news?

Messenger	O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead;
	Slain by his servant, going to put out
	The other eye of Gloucester.

Albany								Gloucester's eyes?

Messenger	A servant that he bred, thrilled with remorse,
	Opposed against the act, bending his sword
	To his great master; who, thereat enraged,
	Flew on him, and amongst them felled him dead;
	But not without that harmful stroke which since
	Hath plucked him after.

Albany							This shows you are above,
	You justicers, that these our nether crimes
	So speedily can venge! But O, poor Gloucester,
	Lost he his other eye?

Messenger						Both, both, my lord.
	This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
	'Tis from your sister.

Goneril	[Aside.]					One way I like this well;
	But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,
	May all the building in my fancy pluck
	Upon my hateful life. Another way,
	The news is not so tart. [Aloud.] I'll read, and answer.
												[Exit.
Albany	Where was his son when they did take his eyes?

Messenger	Come with my lady hither.

Albany								He is not here.

Messenger	No, my good lord; I met him back again.

Albany	Knows he the wickedness?

Messenger	Ay, my good lord; 'twas he informed against him,
	And quit the house on purpose that their punishment
	Might have the freer course.

Albany									Gloucester, I live
	To thank thee for the love thou showed'st the king,
	And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend;
	Tell me what more thou know'st.
												[Exeunt.
