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If you will marry, make your loues to me,
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My Lady is bespoke
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Gon. An enterlude
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Alb. Thou art armed Gloster,
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Let the Trumpet sound:
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If none appeare to proue vpon thy person,
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Thy heynous, manifest, and many Treasons,
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There is my pledge: Ile make it on thy heart
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Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing lesse
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Then I haue heere proclaim'd thee
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Reg. Sicke, O sicke
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Gon. If not, Ile nere trust medicine
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Bast. There's my exchange, what in the world hes
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That names me Traitor, villain-like he lies,
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Call by the Trumpet: he that dares approach;
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On him, on you, who not, I will maintaine
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My truth and honor firmely.
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Enter a Herald.
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Alb. A Herald, ho.
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Trust to thy single vertue, for thy Souldiers
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All leuied in my name, haue in my name
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Tooke their discharge
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Regan. My sicknesse growes vpon me
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Alb. She is not well, conuey her to my Tent.
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Come hither Herald, let the Trumpet sound,
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And read out this.
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A Trumpet sounds.
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Herald reads.
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If any man of qualitie or degree, within the lists of the Army,
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will maintaine vpon Edmund, supposed Earle of Gloster,
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that he is a manifold Traitor, let him appeare by the third
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sound of the Trumpet: he is bold in his defence.
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1 Trumpet.
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Her. Againe.
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2 Trumpet.
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Her. Againe.
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3 Trumpet.
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Trumpet answers within.
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Enter Edgar armed.
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Alb. Aske him his purposes, why he appeares
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Vpon this Call o'th' Trumpet
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Her. What are you?
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Your name, your quality, and why you answer
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This present Summons?
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Edg. Know my name is lost
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By Treasons tooth: bare-gnawne, and Canker-bit,
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Yet am I Noble as the Aduersary
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I come to cope
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Alb. Which is that Aduersary?
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Edg. What's he that speakes for Edmund Earle of Gloster?
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Bast. Himselfe, what saist thou to him?
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Edg. Draw thy Sword,
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That if my speech offend a Noble heart,
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Thy arme may do thee Iustice, heere is mine:
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Behold it is my priuiledge,
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The priuiledge of mine Honours,
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My oath, and my profession. I protest,
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Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence,
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Despise thy victor-Sword, and fire new Fortune,
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Thy valor, and thy heart, thou art a Traitor:
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False to thy Gods, thy Brother, and thy Father,
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Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious Prince,
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And from th' extremest vpward of thy head,
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To the discent and dust below thy foote,
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A most Toad-spotted Traitor. Say thou no,
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This Sword, this arme, and my best spirits are bent
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To proue vpon thy heart, where to I speake,
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Thou lyest
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Bast. In wisedome I should aske thy name,
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But since thy out-side lookes so faire and Warlike,
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And that thy tongue (some say) of breeding breathes,
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What safe, and nicely I might well delay,
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By rule of Knight-hood, I disdaine and spurne:
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Backe do I tosse these Treasons to thy head,
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With the hell-hated Lye, ore-whelme thy heart,
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Which for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise,
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This Sword of mine shall giue them instant way,
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Where they shall rest for euer. Trumpets speake
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