ALBANY.
Thou art arm’d, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound:
If none appear to prove upon thy person
Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons,
There is my pledge. [Throwing down a glove.]
I’ll make it on thy heart,
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
Than I have here proclaim’d thee.
REGAN.
Sick, O, sick!
GONERIL.
[Aside.] If not, I’ll ne’er trust medicine.
EDMUND.
There’s my exchange. [Throwing down a glove.]
What in the world he is
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies.
Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach,
On him, on you, who not? I will maintain
My truth and honour firmly.
ALBANY.
A herald, ho!
Enter a Herald.
Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers,
All levied in my name, have in my name
Took their discharge.
REGAN.
My sickness grows upon me.
ALBANY.
She is not well. Convey her to my tent.
[Exit Regan, led.]