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.

[Wounds his arm]

Of my more fierce endeavour: I have seen drunkards

Do more than this in sport. Father, father!

Stop, stop! No help?

[Enter GLOUCESTER, and Servants with torches]