OSWALD.
No, madam.
REGAN.
What might import my sister’s letter to him?
OSWALD.
I know not, lady.
REGAN.
Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter.
It was great ignorance, Gloucester’s eyes being out,
To let him live. Where he arrives he moves
All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone
In pity of his misery, to dispatch
His nighted life; moreover to descry
The strength o’ th’enemy.
OSWALD.
I must needs after him, madam, with my letter.
REGAN.
Our troops set forth tomorrow; stay with us;
The ways are dangerous.
OSWALD.
I may not, madam:
My lady charg’d my duty in this business.
REGAN.
Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you
Transport her purposes by word? Belike,
Somethings, I know not what, I’ll love thee much.
Let me unseal the letter.
OSWALD.
Madam, I had rather—
REGAN.
I know your lady does not love her husband;
I am sure of that; and at her late being here
She gave strange oeillades and most speaking looks
To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom.