EDGAR.
How now, brother Edmund! what serious contemplation are you in?
EDMUND.
I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day,
what should follow these eclipses.
EDGAR.
Do you busy yourself with that?
EDMUND.
I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily: as of
unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death, dearth,
dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and
maledictions against king and nobles; needless diffidences,
banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches,
and I know not what.
EDGAR.
How long have you been a sectary astronomical?
EDMUND.
Come, come! when saw you my father last?
EDGAR.
The night gone by.
EDMUND.
Spake you with him?
EDGAR.
Ay, two hours together.
EDMUND.
Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by word
or countenance?
EDGAR.
None at all.
EDMUND.
Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him: and at my
entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath
qualified the heat of his displeasure; which at this instant so
rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would
scarcely allay.
