GONERIL.
This is mere practice, Gloucester:
By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer
An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish’d,
But cozen’d and beguil’d.
ALBANY.
Shut your mouth, dame,
Or with this paper shall I stop it. Hold, sir;
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil.
No tearing, lady; I perceive you know it.
[Gives the letter to Edmund.]
GONERIL.
Say if I do, the laws are mine, not thine:
Who can arraign me for’t?
[Exit.]
ALBANY.
Most monstrous! O!
Know’st thou this paper?
EDMUND.
Ask me not what I know.
ALBANY.
[To an Officer, who goes out.] Go after her; she’s desperate; govern her.
EDMUND.
What you have charg’d me with, that have I done;
And more, much more; the time will bring it out.
’Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou
That hast this fortune on me? If thou’rt noble,
I do forgive thee.
EDGAR.
Let’s exchange charity.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more, the more thou hast wrong’d me.
My name is Edgar and thy father’s son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us:
The dark and vicious place where thee he got
Cost him his eyes.