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Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND
KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND enter.

KENT
I thought the king had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.
KENT
I thought the king preferred the Duke of Albany to the Duke of Cornwall.

GLOUCESTER
It did always seem so to us. But now in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most, for equalities are so weighed that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moiety.
GLOUCESTER
We used to think so too. But the way he’s divided the kingdom recently, nobody can tell which of the dukes he favors more. He’s split the kingdom so evenly that it’s impossible to see any indication of favoritism.

KENT
(indicating EDMUND) Is not this your son, my lord?
KENT
(pointing to EDMUND) Isn’t this your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER
His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blushed to acknowledge him that now I am brazed to it.
GLOUCESTER
Yes, I’ve been responsible for his upbringing. I’ve had to acknowledge that he’s my son so many times that now I can do it without embarrassment.

KENT
I cannot conceive you.
KENT
I can’t conceive of what you mean.

GLOUCESTER
Sir, this young fellow’s mother could, whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?
GLOUCESTER
You can’t conceive? Well, this guy’s mother could conceive him all to well. She grew a big belly and had a baby for her crib before she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell something naughty?

KENT
I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.
KENT
Well, I wouldn’t want to undo the naughtiness, since the boy turned out so well.

GLOUCESTER
But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year older than this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came something saucily to the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged.—Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?
GLOUCESTER
But I have a legitimate son a few years older than this one, and I don’t love him any more than I love my bastard. Edmund may have snuck into the world a little before his time, but his mother was pretty, we had a fun time making him, and now I have to acknowledge the guy as my son.—Do you know this gentleman, Edmund?

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