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

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 names 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 whistling.

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 aged 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 benefited!

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 plumed 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 changed 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. — 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 showedst the king,

And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend:

Tell me what more thou know'st. Exeunt.