Albany. Sir, by your patience I hold you but a subject of this war, Not as a brother. Regan. That's as we list to grace him. And call itself your brother. In his own grace he doth exalt himself, More than in your addition. Regan. In my rights By me invested, he compeers the best. Albany. That were the most, if he should husband you. Regan. Jesters do oft prove prophets. Goneril. 55 60 Holla, holla! 65 The eye that told you so look'd but a-squint. 52. by your patience: by your leave; an expression of apology for an interruption. 53. subject: one to obey not command during (of) this war. 54. brother: equal. list: desire. grace: honour as with a title. 58. immediacy: nearness. 59. hot: hasty in speech. 61. addition: title given by Regan. 62. compeers: stand equal to. Something in Edmund's manner, as he answers Albany concerning the prisoners, seems presumptuous; and, as Albany has read the letter handed to him by Edgar (V. I:30) and, consequently knows of Edmund's evil conspiracy with Goneril, now is the time for accusation and punishment before the case becomes more difficult to handle. Therefore, Gloucester asserts his superior authority. Regan is touchy at the slight given to her favourite, and feels herself in a position to speak openly of Edmund, since her husband is dead and Goneril, in the presence of Albany, not likely to advance her own desires. In this, however, she has not reckoned upon the strength of Goneril's passion. Stung by jealousy and regardless of her husband, whom she despises for his weakness, Goneril declares that Edmund in himself is of greater worth than can be gained through any title in Regan's power to bestow. In the heat of this quarrel, Regan is driven to an openness that will surely result in a clear issue; and, in Albany's presence, she thinks her sister will be helpless. Regan. Lady, I am not well; else I should answer From a full flowing stomach. General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine. Witness the world that I create thee here My lord and master. Goneril. Mean you to enjoy him? Albany. The let-alone lies not in your good will. Edmund. Nor in thine, lord. Albany. Half-blooded fellow, yes. Regan. Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. 67. From...stomach: in bold anger. The stomach was regarded the special seat of anger; and to have stomach was to have courageous desire. General: the title by which she addresses Edmund. 69. walls are thine: a figure of complete surrender. 72. To forbid their union lies not in Goneril's power. 73. Half-blooded: here equivalent to bastard. 74. By force of arms prove that I am indeed your wife. 70 Goneril, always aggressive and prompt in action, has poisoned Regan without her knowledge. Regan begins to feel the effect of the poison; but does not realize what has happened. Boldly she declares Edmund to be her husband, exercising her power as a princess to bestow herself upon whom she will. Goneril, watching the effect of the poison, asks her question (71) in mocking glee. Albany can restrain himself no longer but sternly tells his wife that the relations between Regan and Edmund are none of her business (72); while Edmund, who has been watching the quarrel in silence to see what course policy would mark out for him, decides that he can delay no longer, and openly sides with Regan, telling Albany that the matter does not concern him any more than it does Goneril. This Albany denies, while Regan, rejoicing to have gained an open statement from Edmund, seeks to have him still further commit himseif by an act of military defiance of Albany. Albany. Stay yet; hear reason. On capital treason; and, in thy arrest This gilded serpent. Edmund, I arrest thee 75 For your claim, fair sister, I bar it in the interest of my wife; 'T is she is sub-contracted to this lord, And I, her husband, contradict your bans. If you will marry, make your loves to me; My lady is bespoke. Goneril. An interlude. 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. I'll prove it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less Than I have here proclaim'd thee. Regan. Sick, Oh, sick! Goneril. If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine. world he is What in the That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. Albany. A herald, ho! Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, Took their discharge. My sickness grows upon me. Albany. She is not well. Convey her to my tent. (Exit Regan, led.) 80 85 90 * 95 |