EDGAR.
I am sure on’t, not a word.
EDMUND.
I hear my father coming:—pardon me;
In cunning I must draw my sword upon you:
Draw: seem to defend yourself: now quit you well.
Yield: come before my father. Light, ho, here!
Fly, brother. Torches, torches!—So farewell.
[Exit Edgar.]
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion
Of my more fierce endeavour: [Wounds his arm.]
I have seen drunkards
Do more than this in sport. Father, father!
Stop, stop! No help?
Enter Gloucester and Servants with torches.
GLOUCESTER.
Now, Edmund, where’s the villain?
EDMUND.
Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
To stand auspicious mistress.
GLOUCESTER.
But where is he?
EDMUND.
Look, sir, I bleed.
GLOUCESTER.
Where is the villain, Edmund?