REGAN.
Our sister’s man is certainly miscarried.
EDMUND.
’Tis to be doubted, madam.
REGAN.
Now, sweet lord,
You know the goodness I intend upon you:
Tell me but truly, but then speak the truth,
Do you not love my sister?
EDMUND.
In honour’d love.
REGAN.
But have you never found my brother’s way
To the forfended place?
EDMUND.
That thought abuses you.
REGAN.
I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
And bosom’d with her, as far as we call hers.
EDMUND.
No, by mine honour, madam.
REGAN.
I never shall endure her, dear my lord,
Be not familiar with her.
EDMUND.
Fear not,
She and the Duke her husband!