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Analysis of William Shakespeare’s King Lear

By NASRULLAH MAMBROL on July 25, 2020 • ( 1 )

There is perhaps no play which keeps the attention so strongly fixed; which so much agitates our passions and interests our curiosity. The artful involutions of distinct interests, the striking opposition of contrary characters, the sudden changes of fortune, and the quick succession of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, and hope. There is no scene which does not contribute to the aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action, and scarce a line which does not conduce to the progress of the scene. So powerful is the current of the poet’s imagination, that the mind, which once ventures within it, is hurried irresistibly along.

—Samuel Johnson, The Plays of William Shakespeare

For its unsurpassed combination of sheer terrifying force and its existential and cosmic reach, King Lear leads this ranking as drama’s supreme achievement. The notion that King Lear is Shakespeare’s (and by implication drama’s) greatest play is certainly debatable, but consensus in its favor has gradually coalesced over the centuries since its first performance around 1606. During and immediately following William Shakespeare’s lifetime, there is no evidence that King Lear was particularly valued over other of the playwright’s dramas. It was later considered a play in need of an improving makeover. In 1681 poet and dramatist Nahum Tate, calling King Lear “a Heap of Jewels unstrung and unpolish’d,” altered what many Restoration critics and audiences found unbecoming and unbearable in the drama. Tate eliminated the Fool, whose presence was considered too vulgar for a proper tragedy, and gave the play a happy ending, restoring Lear to his throne and arranging the marriage of Cordelia and Edgar, neatly tying together with poetic justice the double strands of Shakespeare’s far bleaker drama. Tate’s bowdlerization of King Lear continued to be presented throughout the 18th century, and the original play was not performed again until 1826. By then the Romantics had reclaimed Shakespeare’s version, and an appreciation of the majesty and profundity of King Lear as Shakespeare’s greatest achievement had begun. Samuel Taylor Coleridge declared the play “the most tremendous effort of Shakespeare as a poet”; while Percy Bysshe Shelley considered it “the most perfect specimen of the dramatic art existing in the world.” John Keats, who described the play as “the fierce dispute / Betwixt damnation and impassion’d clay,” offered King Lear as the best example of the intensity, with its “close relationship with Beauty & Truth,” that is the “Excellence of every Art.” Dissenting voices, however, challenged the supremacy of King Lear . Essayist Charles Lamb judged the play to have “nothing in it but what is painful and disgusting” and deemed it “essentially impossible to be represented on a stage.” The great Shakespearean scholar A. C. Bradley acknowledged King Lear as “Shakespeare’s greatest achievement” but “not his best play.” For Bradley, King Lear , with its immense scope and the variety and intensity of its scenes, is simply “too huge for the stage.” Perhaps the most notorious dissenter against the greatness of King Lear was Leo Tolstoy, who found its fable-like unreality reprehensible and ruled it a “very bad, carelessly composed production” that “cannot evoke amongst us anything but aversion and weariness.” Such qualifications and dismissals began to diminish in light of 20thcentury history. The existential vision of King Lear has seemed even more pertinent and telling as a reflection of the human condition; while modern dramatic artistry with its contrapuntal structure and anti-realistic elements has caught up with Shakespeare’s play. Today King Lear is commonly judged unsurpassed in its dramatization of so many painful but inescapable human and cosmic truths.

King Lear is based on a well-known story from ancient Celtic and British mythology, first given literary form by Geoffrey of Monmouth in his History of the Kings of Britain (c. 1137). Raphael Holinshed later repeated the story of Lear and his daughters in his Chronicles (1587), and Edmund Spenser, the first to name the youngest daughter, presents the story in book 2 of The Faerie Queene (1589). A dramatic version— The True Chronicle History of King Leir and his three daughters, Gonerill, Ragan, and Cordella —appeared around 1594. All these versions record Lear dividing his kingdom, disinheriting his youngest daughter, and being driven out by his two eldest daughters before reuniting with his youngest, who helps restore him to the throne and bring her wicked sisters to justice. Shakespeare is the first to give the story an unhappy ending, to turn it from a sentimental, essentially comic tale in which the good are eventually rewarded and the evil punished into a cosmic tragedy. Other plot elements—Lear’s madness, Cordelia’s hanging, Lear’s death from a broken heart, as well as Kent’s devotion and the role of the Fool—are also Shakespeare’s inventions, as is the addition of the parallel plot of Gloucester and his sons, which Shakespeare adapted from a tale in Philip Sidney’s Arcadia . The play’s double plot in which the central situation of Lear’s suffering and self-knowledge is paralleled and counterpointed in Gloucester’s circumstances makes King Lear different from all the other great tragedies. The effect widens and deepens the play into a universal tragedy of symphonic proportions.

King Lear opens with the tragic turning point in its very first scene. Compared to the long delays in Hamle t and Othello for the decisive tragic blow to fall, King Lear , like Macbeth , shifts its emphasis from cause to consequence. The play foregoes nearly all exposition or character development and immediately presents a show trial with devastating consequences. The aging Lear has decided to divest himself of kingly responsibilities by dividing his kingdom among his three daughters. Although the maps of the divisions are already drawn, Lear stages a contest for his daughters to claim their portion by a public profession of their love. “Tell me, my daughters,” Lear commands, “. . . Which of you shall we say doth love us most.” Lear’s self-indulgence—bargaining power for love—is both a disruption of the political and natural order and an essential human violation in his demanding an accounting of love that defies the means of measuring it. Goneril and Regan, however, vie to outdo the other in fulsome pledges of their love, while Cordelia, the favorite, responds to Lear’s question “what can you say to draw / A third more opulent than your sisters” with the devastatingly honest truth: “Nothing,” a word that will reverberate through the entire play. Cordelia forcefully and simply explains that she loves Lear “According to my bond, no more nor less.” Lear is too blind and too needy to appreciate her fidelity or yet understand the nature of love, or the ingenuous flattery of his older daughters. He responds to the hurt he feels by exiling the one who loves him most authentically and deeply. The rest of the play will school Lear in his mistake, teaching him the lesson of humanity that he violates in the play’s opening scene.

The devastating consequences of his decision follow. Lear learns that he cannot give away power and still command allegiance from Goneril or Regan. Their avowals of love quickly turn into disrespect for a now useless and demanding parent. From the opening scene in which Lear appears in all his regal splendor, he will be successively stripped of all that invests a king in majesty and insulates a human being from first-hand knowledge of suffering and core existential truths. Urged to give up 50 of his attending knights by Goneril, Lear claims more gratitude from Regan, who joins her sister in further whittling down Lear’s retinue from 100 knights to 50, to 25, 10, 5, to none, ironically in the language of calculation of the first scene. Lear explodes:

O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man’s life is cheap as beast’s .

Lear is now readied to face reality as a “poorest thing.” Lear’s betrayal by his daughters is paralleled by the treachery of the earl of Gloucester’s bastard son, Edmund, who plots to supplant the legitimate son, Edgar, and eventually claim supremacy over his father. Edmund, one of the most calculating and coldblooded of Shakespeare’s villains, rejects all the bonds of family and morality early on in the play by affirming: “Thou, Nature, art my goddess, to thy law / My services are bound.” Refusing to accept the values of a society that rejects him as a bastard, Edmund will operate only by the laws of survival of the fittest in a relentless drive for dominance. He convinces Edgar that Gloucester means to kill him, forcing his brother into exile, disguised as Tom o’ Bedlam, a mad beggar. In the play’s overwhelming third act—perhaps the most overpowering in all of drama—Edgar encounters Lear, his Fool, and his lone retainer, the disguised Kent, whom Lear had banished in the first scene for challenging Lear’s treatment of Cordelia. The scene is a deserted heath with a fierce storm raging, as Lear, maddened by the treatment of his daughters, rails at his fate in apocalyptic fury:

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak cleaving thunderbolts, S inge my white head; and thou all-shaking thunder, Strike fl at the thick rotundity o’ th’ world, Crack nature’s mould, all germens spill at once, That makes ingrateful man.

The storm is a brilliant expressionistic projection of Lear’s inner fury, with his language universalizing his private experience in a combat with elemental forces. Beseeching divine justice, Lear is bereft and inconsolable, declaring “My wits begin to turn.” His descent into madness is completed when he meets the disguised Edgar who serves as Lear’s mirror and emblem of humanity as “unaccommodated man”—a “poor, bare, forked animal”:

Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp, Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them And show the heavens more just.

Lear’s suffering has led him to compassion and an understanding of the human needs he had formerly ignored. It is one of the rare moments of regenerative hope before the play plunges into further chaos and violence.

Act 3 concludes with what has been called the most horrifying scene in dramatic literature. Gloucester is condemned as a traitor for colluding with Cordelia and the French invasion force. Cornwall, Regan’s husband, orders Gloucester bound and rips out one of his eyes. Urged on by Regan (“One side will mock another; th’ other too”), Cornwall completes Gloucester’s blinding after a protesting servant stabs Cornwall and is slain by Regan. In agony, Gloucester calls out for Edmund as Regan supplies the crushing truth:

Out, treacherous villain! Thou call’st on him that hates thee. It was he That made the overture of thy treasons to us, Who is too good to pity thee.

Oedipus-like, Gloucester, though blind, now sees the truth of Edmund’s villainy and Edgar’s innocence. Thrown out of the castle, he is ordered to “smell / His way to Dover.”

Act 4 arranges reunions and the expectation that the suffering of both Lear and Gloucester will be compensated and villainy purged. Edgar, still posing as Poor Tom, meets his father and agrees to guide him to Dover where the despairing Gloucester intends to kill himself by jumping from its cliffs. On arriving, Edgar convinces his father that he has fallen and survived, and Gloucester accepts his preservation as an act of the gods and vows “Henceforth I’ll bear / Affliction till it do cry out itself / ‘Enough, enough,’ and die.” The act concludes with Lear’s being reunited with Cordelia. Awaking in her tent, convinced that he has died, Lear gradually recognizes his daughter and begs her forgiveness as a “very foolish, fond old man.”

The stage is now set in act 5 for a restoration of order and Lear, having achieved the requisite self-knowledge through suffering, but Shakespeare pushes the play beyond the reach of consolation. Although Edmund is bested in combat by his brother, and Regan is poisoned by Goneril before she kills herself, neither poetic nor divine justice prevails. Lear and Cordelia are taken prisoner, but their rescue comes too late. As Shakespeare’s stage directions state, “Enter Lear with Cordelia in his arms,” and the play concludes with one of the most heart-wrenching scenes and the most overpowering lines in all of drama. Lear, although desperate to believe that his beloved daughter is alive, gradually accepts the awful truth:

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all. Thou’lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never!

Lear dies with this realization of cosmic injustice and indifference, while holding onto the illusion that Cordelia might still survive (“Look on her, look, her lips / Look there, look there!”). The play ends not with the restoration of divine, political, or familial order but in a final nihilistic vision. Shakespeare pushes the usual tragic progression of action leading to suffering and then to self-knowledge to a view into the abyss of life’s purposelessness and cruelty. The best Shakespeare manages to affirm in the face of intractable human evil and cosmic indifference is the heroism of endurance. Urging his despairing father on, Edgar states in the play’s opposition to despair:

. . . Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither; Ripeness is all. Come on.

Ultimately, King Lear , more than any other drama, in my view, allows its audience to test the limits of endurance in the face of mortality and meaninglessness. It has been said that only the greatest art sustains without consoling. There is no better example of this than King Lear .

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'King Lear' Act 1: Summary of the Opening Scene

An In-Depth Look at 'King Lear' Act One, Scene One

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We take a close look at the opening on Shakespeare's "King Lear." This summary of Act One, Scene One is designed to be a study guide to help you understand, follow, and appreciate Shakespeare ’s tragedy.

Setting the Scene

The Earl of Kent, Duke of Gloucester, and his illegitimate son, Edmund, enter the King’s Court. The men discuss the division of the King’s estate—they consider which of Lear’s sons-in-law will be favored: The Duke of Albany or the Duke of Cornwall . Gloucester introduces his illegitimate son, Edmund. We also learn that he has a second son, Edgar, who is legitimate but who he loves equally.

King Lear enters with the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, and attendants. He asks Gloucester to get the King of France and the Duke of Burgundy, who both have expressed an interest in marrying Lear’s favorite daughter, Cordelia.

Lear then sets out his plan in a long speech:

"Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.— Give me the map there. Know that we have divided In three our kingdom, and ’tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, [while we Unburdened crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall And you, our no less loving son of Albany, We have this hour a constant will to publish Our daughters’ several dowers, that future strife may be prevented now.] The two great princes, France and Burgundy, Great rivals in our youngest daughter’s love, Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn And here are to be answered. Tell me, my daughters— [Since now we will divest us both of rule, Interest of territory, cares of state—] Which of you shall we say doth love us most, That we our largest bounty may extend Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril, Our eldest born, speak first."

Dividing the Kingdom

Lear explains that he will divide his kingdom into three, and he will divest the largest part of his kingdom on the daughter who professes her love most fervently. Lear believes his favorite daughter Cordelia will be most eloquent in professing her love for him and, therefore, will inherit the largest part of his kingdom.

Goneril says that she loves her father more than "eyesight, space, and liberty." Regan says she loves him more than Goneril and that she is "alone felicitate in your dear Highness’ love."

Cordelia, however, refuses to take part in the love test, saying "Nothing." She believes her sisters are simply saying what they need to say in order to get what they want. Instead of following suit, she states: "I am sure my love’s more ponderous than my tongue."

The Ramifications of Cordelia's Refusal

Lear’s pride has been knocked as his favorite daughter refuses to participate in his test. He becomes angry with Cordelia and denies her dowry. Kent tries to make Lear see sense and defends Cordelia’s actions as a true manifestation of her love, but Lear angrily banishes Kent in response.

France and Burgundy enter. Lear offers his daughter to Burgundy but explains that her worth has diminished and there is no longer a dowry.

Burgundy refuses to marry Cordelia without a dowry, but France wants to marry her anyway, proving his true love for her and establishing her as a noble character by appreciating her for her virtues alone. He says:

"Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor; Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised, Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon."

Lear then banishes his daughter to France.

Meanwhile, Goneril and Regan become nervous in witnessing their father’s treatment of his "favorite" daughter. They think his age is making him unpredictable and that they may face his wrath if they do not do something about it. They resolve to consider their options.

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King Lear - Act 1, scene 1

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Act 1, scene 1.

King Lear, intending to divide his power and kingdom among his three daughters, demands public professions of their love. His youngest daughter, Cordelia, refuses. Lear strips her of her dowry, divides the kingdom between his two other daughters, and then banishes the earl of Kent, who has protested against Lear’s rash actions. The king of France, one of Cordelia’s suitors, chooses to marry her despite her father’s casting her away. Lear tells his daughters Goneril and Regan that they and their husbands should divide his powers and revenues; he himself will keep a hundred knights and will live with Goneril and Regan by turns.

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Scene-by-scene.

Here is a more detailed look at what happens in each scene of King Lear, to help you look at the structure of the play and interrogate it. There were multiple different printed versions of King Lear and the differences between them are quite dramatic. Some scenes listed here may be different in the version you are using.

As you look at each act we’ve included some things to notice. These are important character developments, or key questions that an acting company might ask when they first go through the play together at the start of rehearsal. If you work through these as you go, they will help you to make sense of the play as well as starting to look at the text itself. It’s a good idea to have a copy of the play nearby!

Act 1 Scene 1

The play opens with the Earl of Kent and Earl of Gloucester talking about King Lear ’s plans for ‘the division of the kingdom’. Kent meets Gloucester’s illegitimate son Edmund and learns he is a year younger than Edgar , Gloucester’s ‘son by order of law’. The King and all his court arrive and King Lear announces his plan to ‘shake all cares and business from our state, / Conferring them on younger years’ and calls on his three daughters to express their love for him before he rewards them with a share of his kingdom. His two older daughters, Goneril and Regan , offer poetic speeches but his youngest and favourite daughter Cordelia refuses, declaring ‘I love your majesty / According to my bond, no more nor less’. Lear is angry and disowns Cordelia, giving her share of the kingdom to her sisters’ husbands to divide between them. Kent, out of loyalty to both Lear and Cordelia, speaks up to tell Lear he is wrong, but Lear does not listen and banishes Kent from the kingdom.

The King of France and the Duke of Burgundy, rivals to marry Cordelia, are brought in and Lear tells them that she is ‘new adopted to our hate / covered with our curse and strangered with our oath’. Hearing what has happened, Burgundy is no longer interested in marrying her but France declares ‘Thy dowerless daughter, King, thrown to my chance, / Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.’ After Lear and his court have left, Cordelia says goodbye to her sisters and leaves for France. Left alone, Goneril and Regan discuss their father’s ‘poor judgement’ and ‘unconstant starts’.

What do we Learn?

The Earl of Gloucester has two sons. Edgar is older and legitimate and Edmund is a year younger and is illegitimate.
King Lear gives up his political power and lands, with his sons-in-law ruling as regents, but he keeps the title of ‘king’.
Lear gives his older daughters Goneril and Regan half his kingdom each to rule with their husbands and surprises everyone by disinheriting and disowning his youngest daughter Cordelia.
The Earl of Kent is banished from the kingdom for publicly questioning Lear.

Act 1 Scene 2

Edmund speaks to the audience about his ‘bastardy’, asking ‘Wherefore should I / Stand in the plague of custom’. He resents the fact that he is treated differently to his brother and declares ‘Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land’. He has forged a letter from Edgar that he hopes will make his ‘invention thrive’. Gloucester arrives and believes that Edmund is trying to hide the letter from him. Gloucester insists on reading the letter and finds a plot suggesting that Edmund work with Edgar to get rid of their father and share his wealth. Edmund tells his father ‘It is his hand, my lord, but I hope his heart is not in the contents.’ This helps to convince Gloucester that Edgar is plotting against him and that ‘These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us’. When Gloucester has gone, Edmund makes fun of his father’s superstition, telling the audience ‘we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars, as if we were villains by necessity.’

Edgar then arrives and Edmund tells him that their father is very angry with him. Edgar believes ‘Some villain hath done me wrong’. When he is gone, Edmund turns once more to the audience to laugh at his ‘credulous father, and a brother noble, / Whose nature is so far from doing harms / That he suspects none’.

Edmund believes he should have the same rights and inheritance as his legitimate and older half-brother Edgar.
Gloucester believes Edmund’s story that his older son Edgar is plotting against him.
Edgar believes that his father is angry with him and that his brother Edmund is trying to help him.

Act 1 Scene 3

As he announced he would, Lear and his hundred knights are staying with Goneril before moving on to stay with Regan.
Goneril is unhappy with her father’s behaviour and instructs her servants not to obey Lear’s orders.

Act 1 Scene 4

The Earl of Kent tells the audience that he has disguised himself in order to return and serve King Lear. He introduces himself to Lear as ‘A very honest-hearted fellow.’ Lear is impressed and tells him ‘Follow me, thou shalt serve me: if I like thee no worse after dinner.’ When Oswald does not behave as Lear expects him to, Kent helps Lear to punish Oswald and Lear thanks him. Lear’s Fool then arrives and offers Kent his coxcomb ‘for taking one’s part that’s out of favour’. Through his word play and songs, the Fool suggests that Lear has been a fool to give his kingdom away, saying ‘thou hast pared thy wit o’both sides and left nothing i’th’middle.’

Goneril enters and complains to Lear about his ‘all licensed fool’ and his ‘insolent retinue’ who do ‘hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth / In rank and not-to-be endured riots.’ She asks him ‘a little to disquantify your train’. He grows angry and curses her, saying ‘Into her womb convey sterility’, and hopes that if she does have a child it teaches her ‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is / To have a thankless child.’ He sets off to stay with Regan, believing she will be ‘kind and comfortable’. When Lear has gone, Goneril calls Oswald and sends him with a letter to Regan.

Kent has defied his banishment to return in disguise and serve King Lear.
Goneril has insulted her father, telling him that she will not put up with his riotous knights in her household.
Lear has cursed his oldest daughter and set off with his followers to stay with Regan.

Act 1 Scene 5

Kent has been sent to tell Regan that Lear is on his way.
Lear is beginning to question his actions and his sanity.

Things to Notice in Act 1

Take note of how we are introduced to Lear’s family and Gloucester’s family. How do both men treat their children and what do we learn about the events leading up to the play? What has happened to each of their children and why? Make notes on the facts we discover about each character and the inferences you can make about them from suggestions in the text, looking at their actions in these early scenes.

Notice the ways in which Cordelia, Goneril and Regan each react to their father’s demands in Scene 1, looking at the claims they make in their speeches. Are you surprised by the way Goneril then treats her father in Scene 3? Does Lear deserve this treatment and are her demands/reactions unfair? Is there any truth in the claims the Fool makes in Scene 4 when he tells Lear his actions were foolish?

Note the loyalties of the characters around Lear. Both Kent and Cordelia are banished and sent away by Lear at the start of Act 1, even though they are arguably his most loyal followers. How does Kent react to his dismissal and why do you think this is?

Act 1 is important because it introduces us to all the characters - the two families of King Lear and the Earl of Gloucester. How would you describe the relationships in each of these families? What differences can you see between Lear’s three daughters, and between Gloucester’s two sons and which lines best suggest these differences?

Act 2 Scene 1

Edmund learns from a servant that Regan and Cornwall are on their way to Gloucester’s house and that there are rumours of ‘likely wars toward ’twixt the dukes of Cornwall and Albany .’ Edmund hopes Cornwall’s arrival will help his plans. He calls for his brother Edgar who has been in hiding and advises him to ‘fly this place’. He sees their father Gloucester approaching and tells Edgar ‘pardon me / In cunning I must draw my sword upon you’. As Edgar runs off, Edmund gives himself a wound to make his story about Edgar’s treachery more convincing. He then tells his father that Edgar tried to ‘Persuade me to the murder of your lordship’. Gloucester is convinced that Edgar is a ‘murderous caitiff’.

Regan and her husband arrive and sympathise with Gloucester over Edgar’s betrayal. Cornwall tells Edmund ‘For you, Edmund, / Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant / So much commend itself, you shall be ours’. Regan tells Gloucester they are visiting him for ‘needful counsel’ on dealing with the news received from her father and her sister.

Edmund has convinced his father, his brother and the Duke of Cornwall that he is trustworthy.
Regan and Cornwall have left their own home to stay at Gloucester’s house after receiving the news from Goneril and from Lear about their fall out.

Act 2 Scene 2

Oswald has arrived at Gloucester’s house and meets Kent, still disguised as ‘Caius’. Oswald does not recognise him as a follower of Lear and the two men argue. Kent hurls insults and draws his sword against Oswald for bringing ‘letters against the king’ and taking ‘vanity the puppet’s part against the royalty of her father’.

Regan, Cornwall, Gloucester and Edmund arrive and stop the fight but Kent refuses to back down saying ‘anger hath a privilege’. Cornwall calls for the stocks to punish Kent who appeals to Regan saying ‘Why, madam, if I were your father’s dog / You should not use me so’. Gloucester speaks up that ‘The king his master needs must take it ill’ but Regan and Cornwall are unconcerned. Left alone, Kent shows the audience a letter he has received from Cordelia ‘Who hath most fortunately been informed / Of my obscured course’.

Edgar tells the audience that he plans to disguise himself as a ‘Bedlam beggar’ called ‘Poor Tom’ and run away.

Lear then arrives and wakes up Kent who is still sleeping in the stocks. Lear is shocked at Kent’s treatment, complaining ’tis worse than murder / To do upon respect such violent outrage’. He is further outraged when Gloucester tells him that Regan and Cornwall will not see him. They finally appear and Lear complains to Regan that Goneril ‘hath tied / Sharp-toothed unkindness, like a vulture, here’. Regan tells her father to return to Goneril and ‘Say you have wronged her’. When Goneril herself arrives, Regan takes her hand and together they tell Lear they will look after him in their homes, but not his knights. Goneril asks ‘What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five, / To follow in a house where twice so many / Have a command to tend you?’ Lear calls his daughters ‘unnatural hags’ and walks away from the castle as a storm is brewing.

Lear has followed Regan to Gloucester’s house after leaving Goneril.
Lear expects Regan to be sympathetic to his complaints about Goneril.
Regan and Goneril are united against allowing their father to continue with the conditions he set up for them to inherit the kingdom.

Things to Notice in Act 2

Notice the importance of letters in this play. Track who sends letters to whom as you work through the play, noting what the letters are about. How important are the letters and the messengers who carry them?

Look closely at Scene 2, where Goneril’s trusted messenger Oswald and Lear’s trusted messenger ‘Caius’ (Kent) come into conflict. What impression do you get of each of these men and what is important to them? Which lines help you to form your impression?

In Act 2, we see the development of the main plot and the sub-plot - Goneril and Regan unite together against their father and Edmund successfully turns his father against his half-brother Edgar. How would you describe the similarities and differences between these two plots? Why do you think Shakespeare might have included both storylines? What connects Gloucester and Lear?

Act 3 Scene 1

Lear is alone on the heath in the middle of a storm with only the Fool for company.
Kent has told the gentleman that Cordelia is receiving news in France from spies about her sisters and events in Britain.

Act 3 Scene 2

Except for the Fool, Lear’s followers all let him walk out into the storm.
Kent has persuaded Lear to follow him to shelter.

Act 3 Scene 3

Regan and Cornwall have taken over Gloucester’s house and forbidden him from helping Lear.
Gloucester has told Edmund he has letters about French troops landing in England and that he will help the king despite the threat to his life.
Edmund plans to sabotage any plan Gloucester has to help the king and the French army who are on their way.

Act 3 Scene 4

Lear begins to consider how the poor subjects in his kingdom might feel, not having the luxuries of life that he has had.
Edgar has taken on the life of a ‘Bedlam beggar’ as he said he would.
Lear has agreed to trust Gloucester and go with him to a place of safety.

Act 3 Scene 5

Edmund has betrayed his father’s confidence by stealing his letters from France and showing them to Cornwall.
Cornwall has declared Gloucester a traitor for conspiring with France and not telling Regan or Goneril of their plans.

Act 3 Scene 6

Lear has become exhausted and confused.
Kent and Gloucester remain loyal to their king and help him despite the threats to their own lives.
Lear’s life is in danger if he does not go immediately to join Cordelia and the French forces at Dover.

Act 3 Scene 7

Regan and Goneril are angry to hear of Gloucester’s betrayal, Regan says ‘Hang him instantly’ and Goneril adds ‘Pluck out his eyes.’ Oswald arrives with news that Lear and ‘Some five- or six-and-thirty of his knights’ have gone toward Dover, where they boast / To have well-arme`d friends.’ Goneril sets off back to her house, accompanied by Edmund, while Cornwall sends servants to bring in ‘the traitor Gloucester’.

Gloucester is brought in and protests ‘Good my friends, consider you are my guests / Do me no foul play, friends’ but he is tied to a chair and interrogated. He tells Regan he has sent Lear to Dover ‘because I would not see thy cruel nails / Pluck out his poor old eyes’. In response, Cornwall gouges out one of Gloucester’s eyes but before he can take out the other eye a servant calls ‘Hold your hand, my lord’. Cornwall fights with the servant and kills him then returns to pluck out Gloucester’s remaining eye, saying ‘Out vile jelly’. Gloucester calls out for Edmund but Regan tells him it was Edmund ‘That made the overture of thy treasons to us’.

Gloucester finally realises he has trusted the wrong son. Cornwall has been hurt in the fight with his servant. Regan orders the remaining servants to ‘Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell / His way to Dover’ and then helps her bleeding husband.

Goneril, accompanied by Edmund, has gone back to her husband Albany to organise their armies against the French invasion.
Cornwall, encouraged by Regan, has gouged out both of Gloucester’s eyes as punishment for his treason.
One of Cornwall’s servants tried to stop Cornwall hurting Gloucester. Cornwall has killed the servant but is mortally injured himself.

Things to Notice in Act 3

Notice the role of letters, messages, secrets and rumours in this play. Does what the audience knows for sure shift between the beginning and end of Act 3? What about each of the characters? How does this compare to Act 2 and how has it changed?

Notice how news of invading forces from France is built up through this act. Consider how the international conflict between France and Britain might affect an audience’s understanding of the domestic story of Lear’s dysfunctional family.

Notice Lear’s journey into ‘madness’ in this act. Explore his language at the beginning of Act 3 and the end and what this suggests about his mental state.

In Act 3, the main plot and the sub plot link together – the action all moves to Gloucester’s house by the end of the act and Edmund’s betrayal is revealed. Both Lear and Gloucester go through terrible physical and mental pain as they realise they have put their trust in the wrong children. Consider the similarities and differences between their situations and how they respond. Which man do you feel greater sympathy for and why?

Act 4 Scene 1

Gloucester has realised that he did not always see clearly when he had his eyes. He now knows he was wrong to mistrust Edgar and shows more compassion for 'Poor Tom' and others like him.
Edgar, disguised as 'Poor Tom', has taken on the job of leading the blinded Gloucester to the cliffs of Dover.

Act 4 Scene 2

Edmund is on his way back to Regan, who is now a widow.
Albany is horrified at how his wife and her sister have treated King Lear and the Earl of Gloucester.

Act 4 Scene 3

The King of France has returned home and left Cordelia and his army under the leadership of a general.
Cordelia has been told all that has happened to her father since she left.
Lear feels very guilty for how he treated Cordelia.
The ‘British powers’ are now also marching towards Dover and war is imminent.

Act 4 Scene 4

Cordelia has brought an army from France to support her father, against her sisters.
Lear is somewhere in Dover, still acting erratically.

Act 4 Scene 5

Regan believes it was a mistake to let Gloucester live and thinks Edmund has set out to find and kill his father.
Regan hopes to marry Edmund and suspects her sister wants Edmund herself.
Oswald is loyal to Goneril and is now carrying messages from both sisters to Edmund.

Act 4 Scene 6

Edgar has led his blinded father to Dover, still pretending to be ‘Poor Tom’ although Gloucester recognises that his guide’s ‘voice is altered’. Despite Gloucester also recognising that ‘the ground is even’, Edgar convinces him that they are at the top of a high cliff from which ‘The fishermen that walk upon the beach /Appear like mice’. Gloucester sends his guide away with ‘another purse’.

When Gloucester falls forward, believing he is throwing himself from the cliff top, Edgar confesses that his plan may ‘may rob / The treasury of life’ and rushes to his father to check if he is still alive. He now pretends to be a passer by on the beach who saw the old man fall and declares ‘Thy life’s a miracle’. Gloucester agrees to ‘bear / Affliction till it do cry out itself /‘Enough, enough’ and die.’

At that moment King Lear joins them, behaving very oddly and ranting about his daughters. Gloucester recognises the king’s voice. Lear comments on Gloucester’s lack of eyes and tells him ‘A man may see how this world goes with no eyes. / Look with thine ears’.

Lear finally admits, ‘I know thee well enough: thy name is Gloucester’ before running off, chased by three gentlemen sent to calm him down and take him to Cordelia. Edgar learns from one of the gentleman that the opposing army are ‘Near and on speedy foot’.

Edgar tells Gloucester he is ‘A most poor man, made tame to fortune’s blows’ and begins to lead him to shelter when Oswald appears, ready to kill Gloucester. Edgar defends Gloucester and kills Oswald who dies believing Edgar is a ‘bold peasant’. He gives Edgar his purse and tells him to ‘bury my body / And give the letters which thou find’st about me / To Edmund, Earl of Gloucester’.

Edgar reads aloud the letter from Goneril to Edmund which asks Edmund to take one of the ‘many opportunities’ he will have to kill Albany so that he can marry Goneril. Edgar disposes of Oswald’s body and then leads his father away.

Gloucester wants to die by falling from the cliff top.
Edgar hopes to cure his father of his despair by pretending he has been saved from certain death by the will of the gods.
Lear is still behaving strangely.
Goneril wants her husband dead so that she can marry Edmund.

Act 4 Scene 7

Kent has been reunited with Cordelia.
Lear is safely in Cordelia’s court and is beginning to recover.

Things to Notice in Act 4

Notice the relationship building between Goneril and Edmund. What qualities does Goneril admire in Edmund compared to her husband Albany?

Notice Edgar’s forgiveness of his father’s actions towards him and his desire to help his father. Why do you think Edgar keeps his identity secret from his father throughout this act? Why do you think Shakespeare includes scene 5/6 where Gloucester believes he has fallen from the cliff top?

In Act 4, the two old men Lear and Gloucester are reunited with the children who most care about them. Review the lines where each talk about their children and consider what these lines suggest about what they have learned on their journeys in this play. How do you think the audience might be feeling by the end of Act 4 and what might they be expecting to happen next?

Act 5 Scene 1

Regan and Goneril both love Edmund but suspect that there might also be something going on between Edmund and the other sister.
Albany has a letter from Edgar revealing the truth about Edmund.
Edmund intends to stop Albany pardoning Lear and Cordelia if the British win the battle.

Act 5 Scene 2

The French forces have been defeated.
Lear and Cordelia have been taken prisoner.

Act 5 Scene 3

Edmund calls for his officers to lock up Lear and Cordelia. She tells her father ‘We are not the first / Who with best meaning have incurred the worst’ and he tells her they will live together in prison ‘As if we were God’s spies’ hearing ‘poor rogues / Talk of court news’. Edmund secretly sends his captain after them with a note to ensure that they are both put to death, telling the captain ‘to be tender-minded / Does not become a sword.’

Albany enters followed by Regan and Goneril who argue over Edmund’s position. Regan announces her intention to make Edmund her ‘lord and master’. Regan also begins to feel very ill and Goneril admits to the audience she has poisoned her sister.

Albany has Edmund arrested for ‘capital treason’, and calls Goneril a ‘gilded serpent’ for her betrayal in promising to marry Edmund if he kills her husband. A trumpet sounds and Edgar steps forward, in armour which hides his face. Edgar publicly accuses Edmund of being a traitor. Edmund and Edgar fight and Edmund is defeated. Edmund admits ‘What you have charged me with, that have I done, / And more, much more’.

Edgar reveals who he is really is and how he disguised himself as 'Poor Tom' and looked after his blinded father. Edgar describes how he finally told his father everything and ‘asked his blessing’ to fight this duel with Edmund but that ‘’Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief’ Gloucester’s heart ‘Burst smilingly’ and he died. Listening to this as he dies, Edmund says ‘This speech of yours hath moved me, / And shall perchance do good’ but they are interrupted by a gentleman who runs on with a bloody knife taken from Goneril’s heart and tells Albany that Goneril died after confessing that ‘her sister / By her is poisoned’.

Kent arrives dressed as himself again. Albany order the bodies to be brought in and Edmund says ‘Yet Edmund was beloved: / The one the other poisoned for my sake / And after slew herself.’ Edmund then confesses that the Captain ‘hath commission from thy wife and me / To hang Cordelia in the prison’ and Albany quickly dispatches men to try and save her.

Lear then enters carrying the dead body of Cordelia, crying ‘Howl, howl, howl’. Kent tries to tell Lear who he is and that his older daughters ‘have fordone themselves, / And desperately are dead’, but Albany tells him that Lear ‘knows not what he says, and vain is it / That we present us to him.’ Lear dies and Kent wonders how ‘he hath endured so long’.

Albany and Edgar are left with a kingdom to rule and to consider how they can ‘Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say’.

Goneril poisons Regan to stop her marrying Edmund.
Edgar kills Edmund in a duel.
Gloucester dies during the final battle, after Edgar reveals who he is and what has happened.
Goneril dies from a stab wound to her heart, self-inflicted because she poisoned her own sister.
Cordelia hangs on Edmund’s orders, although he tried to reverse the order at the last minute.
Lear carries in the body of Cordelia, his dead daughter. He then dies himself.

Things to Notice in Act 5

Notice how few lines Goneril and Regan are given in this last act to help the audience understand their motivations. Why do you think both are so determined to marry Edmund? What do you think of how Shakespeare kills them off and how their fates are shared with the audience?

Notice the language of honour used between Edmund and Edgar. What do their words and actions before and after the duel suggest to you about their characters?

Take note of the final speeches of the play, as the fate of the kingdom is left to Albany, Edgar and Kent. This is where some of the early printed versions of King Lear are quite different. Who do you think takes charge and what is Shakespeare saying about the kingdom and its future?

Act 5 is important because it reveals the fate of the kingdom and the central characters – here we learn of the deaths of all the main characters except for Kent, Albany and Edgar. The story of King Lear was fairly well known to Shakespeare’s audiences, but with a happier ending. Why do you think Shakespeare chooses to kill off Cordelia in this way? What effect does her death have?

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King lear summary and analysis of act i, act i summary:.

Gloucester and Kent, loyal to King Lear , objectively discuss his division of the kingdom (as Lear is preparing to step down) and to which dukes, Cornwall and Albany, they believe it will equally fall. Kent is introduced to Gloucester's illegitimate son, Edmund. Gloucester nonchalantly admits that the boy's breeding has been his charge ever since impregnating another woman soon after his legitimate son, Edgar, was born. Kent is pleased to meet Edmund. Gloucester mentions that Edmund has been nine years in military service and will return shortly.

Lear enters and sends Gloucester to find France and Burgundy, Cordelia's suitors. He then begins to discuss the partitioning of Britain he has devised to each of his three daughters and their husbands. Lear decides to ask each of his daughters to express how much they love him before he hands over their piece of the kingdom. As oldest, Goneril speaks first, expressing her love as all encompassing. Regan adds that she is enemy to other joys. Lear gives each their parcel, wishing them well. Cordelia, as the youngest and most liked daughter, is saved the choicest piece of land. However, she responds to her father's request by saying she has nothing to add. She loves only as much as her obligation entitles and will save some of her love for a husband. Lear is enraged and hurt. After giving her a few chances, he strips Cordelia of any title or relation. Kent intercedes on her behalf but he too is estranged by Lear. Kent cries that honesty will continue to be his guide in any kingdom.

Cordelia's suitors enter. Lear apprises them of Cordelia's new state of non-inheritance. Burgundy cannot accept her under the circumstances, but France finds her more appealing and takes her as his wife. Cordelia is not unhappy to leave her sisters and leaves with France. Goneril and Regan conspire to take rule away from Lear quickly as he is becoming more unreasonable.

The scene centers around Edmund, at first alone on stage, crying out against his position as bastard to the material world. He is envious of Edgar, the legitimate son, and wishes to gain what he has by forging a treasonous letter concerning Gloucester from Edgar. Gloucester enters, amazed at the events which have occurred during the last scene. He wishes to know why Edmund is hiding a letter and demands to see it. He shrewdly acts as if he is embarrassed to show it to Gloucester and continually makes excuses for Edgar's apparent behavior. Gloucester reads the letter detailing "Edgar's" call to Edmund to take their father's land from him. Edmund asks that he not make too quick a judgment before they talk to Edgar as perhaps he is simply testing Edmund. He suggests forming a meeting where Edmund can ask Edgar about his proposals while Gloucester listens in secret. Gloucester agrees, musing on the effects of nature and its predictions. He leaves directly before Edgar enters. Edmund brings up the astronomical predictions he had discussed with Gloucester and alerts Edgar that Gloucester is very upset with him, though he knows not why. Edmund offers to take Edgar back to his lodging until he can bring he and Gloucester together and advises him to go armed. Edgar leaves and Edmund notes that he will soon take his due through wit.

Scene iii reintroduces Goneril, as she is outraged by the offenses she contends Lear has been showing her since moving into her residence. He has struck Oswald for criticizing his fool, his knights are riotous and so on, she claims. Lear is out hunting. Goneril commands Oswald to allow her privacy from Lear and to treat Lear with "weary negligence". She does not want him to be happy, hoping that he will move to Regan's where she knows he will face the same contempt. She demands Oswald to treat his knights coldly as well. She leaves to write Regan.

Kent enters, disguised and hoping to serve in secret as a servant to Lear so that he can help him though he is condemned. Lear accepts to try him as a servant.Oswald comes in quickly before exiting again curtly. A knight tells Lear that Goneril is not well and that Oswald answered him curtly as well. The knight fears Lear is being treated wrongly. Lear had blamed himself for any coldness but agrees to look into a problem in Goneril's household. Lear's fool has hidden himself since Cordelia's departure so Lear sends the knight for him. Oswald reenters, showing Lear the negligence Goneril had suggested. Lear and Kent strike him, endearing Kent in Lear's eyes. Oswald exits as Fool enters. Fool persistently mocks and ridicules Lear for his actions in scene i, his mistreatment of Cordelia, trust in Goneril and Regan, and giving up of his authority. He calls Lear himself a fool, noting he has given away all other titles. The fool notes that he is punished by Lear if he lies, punished by the household if he speaks the truth, and often punished for staying silent.

Goneril harps on the trouble Lear and his retinue are causing, such as the insolence of Fool and the riotous behavior of the knights. She states that he is not showing her the proper respect and consideration by allowing these actions to occur. Lear is incredulous. Goneril continues by adding that as Lear's large, frenzied train cannot be controlled she will have to ask him to keep fewer than his hundred knights. Outraged, Lear admits that Goneril's offense makes Cordelia's seem small. As Albany enters, Lear curses Goneril with infertility or, in its stead, a thankless child. He then finds that his train has already been halved and again rages against the incredible impudence Goneril has shown him. He angrily leaves for Regan's residence. Albany does not approve of Goneril's behavior and is criticized by her for being weak. Goneril sends Oswald with a letter to her sister, detailing her fear that Lear is dangerous and should be curtailed as soon as possible.

Impatient, Lear sends the disguised Kent to bring letters to Gloucester. The Fool wisely warns that Regan will likely act no better than her sister had. He criticizes Lear for giving away his own home and place, using examples such as a snail carrying his shell. Lear recognizes he will have to subdue his fatherly instincts toward Regan as well. Fool points out that Lear has gotten old before he is wise. Lear cries out, praying that he will not go mad.

Act I Analysis:

The kingdom's division as alluded to by Kent and Gloucester is strange in that it is not mentioned in the context of Lear's daughters. The seeming arbitrariness this sheds on Lear's enactment of the love test provides a contrast through which to view the misplaced importance Lear is placing on words, appearance, and position. We will soon learn that Kent and Gloucester are two of the only men who could provide Lear with sound, sincere advice, thus endowing their original take of the situation with a greater significance. They have no problem with Lear's decision to divide the kingdom as he is old and is attempting to escape greater conflict after his death. Thus Kent's revolt against Lear's actions arises not from Lear's initial undertaking but from his reaction to Cordelia. Notice too that he does not protest when Lear asks for an estimation/competition for love from his daughters or when Goneril and Regan respond in very coarse, superficial words. He only strikes against Lear's rule when Lear does not notice the sincerity of Cordelia's words and then moves to strip her of his love and titles. This is not only foolish but hurtful and unjust.

The love test was foolish but, on the surface, harmed little. Yet, Goneril and Regan likely knew that their sister would not compete with them if their were extravagant enough in their claims of love toward their father. Of course, they did not love him with their all, but in Lear's old and insecure state, they knew he would fall for their insincerity and Cordelia would refrain from competing on such a hypocritical level. Notice the sonorous quality of the sisters' names. The two oldest have very harsh, coarse sounding names, lacking in femininity or beauty. Cordelia's name is much more melodic and feminine. This is the first constructed quality which sets her apart from her sisters. Also pay attention to the inflated verse Goneril and Regan use when addressing their father as opposed to the much harsher prose they regress to upon his exit in scene i. Their true voices are symbolized by the harsh prose we receive from them when alone, just as their names reverberate with crudeness. Cordelia however often speaks in rhyming couplets, a much more elevated form than her sisters, which allows her to be further set apart from their hypocrisy. We also note that Kent will at times, especially in his defense of Cordelia, slip into rhyming couplets. Shakespeare stresses the elevation of language to symbolize the true nature of characters, highlighting Kent and Cordelia as honorable characters.

Cordelia frequently however understates her sincerity and true affections. She is aware that her sisters speak superficially, employing terms of value and worth in expressing their love, and refuses to echo their hypocrisy, thus responding more coldly than she likely otherwise would. Her asides to the audience give an unadulterated view into her thoughts, similar to the true voices of Goneril and Regan we meet at the end of scene i. Her response "Nothing" echoes these asides instead of disguising them and illustrates to the reader how Cordelia as a character is stripped of pretense and artifice. The idea is echoed literally and symbolically in Lear's comment of scene iv, "Nothing can be made out of nothing" (I.iv.126). In the very same scene that Lear admits he has overreacted toward Cordelia, though only at this point acknowledging that Goneril's offense is greater, he perceives that truth and sincerity cannot be represented by pretense. Regardless of how well Lear has been fooled by the artifice of his older daughters, he allows the Fool to counteract his elderly need for praise and love. Not surprisingly in Shakespeare's plays, the Fool is often the least foolish, directing the lead characters to their miscues in slightly comedic or condescending ways. His singing to Lear illustrates further the use of language and the presentation of language which Shakespeare employs to distinguish between different characters' qualities or the different intentions of single characters.

King Lear is a parable, encrusted with symbolic figures and actions toward a predicted and fabled end. Suspension of disbelief must be enacted on a level as many readers are moved to question Lear's decision making and early blindness toward truth and goodness. As one critic raises, how would Kent and France recognize Cordelia's sincerity and inner beauty when her own father cannot? On a realistic level, Lear has started to regress toward dementia and old age. We know by Kent and Gloucester's loyalty toward him, that he had once been more reasonable. On the figurative and more appropriate level, Lear is a allegorical figure in a parable and must move blindly toward this character demise in order to be resurrected to honesty and the goodness his fallen daughter represents in the end. He committed a fatal and selfish human error which cannot be mended without the journey and transformation he must undergo. The story of King Lear had been kicked around in old British literature and lore, but Shakespeare appears to be the first to allow it to end as tragically as the story's course first suggests. With this in mind, Lear's life is headed in an almost inevitable downward spiral. The plot centers more around how Lear will handle this spiral and his conquering of artifice and insincerity.

Blindness is one of the most frequently employed metaphors in King Lear. Blindness will become a physical problem for Gloucester later in the play, but its metaphoric weight is used to foreshadow and heighten this development. Lear is blind to the blatant hypocrisy of his two oldest daughters from the first moment we meet him. However, unlike the implication that he was once a more noble man since he has the support of seemingly noble subcharacters, Kent and Gloucester, we are not given the impression that he ever knew well enough to previously suspect Goneril or Regan of ingratitude or dishonesty. They have obviously shown their true colors at some point before though since Cordelia responds in such a manner to alert us that she will not sink as low in hypocrisy as her sisters will. For instance, she comments, "A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue/ That I am glad I have not, though not to have it/ Hath lost me in your liking" (I.i.231-233).

Thus, although Lear has obviously favored Cordelia, he has been blind to the inherent ingratitude of his two other daughters and is foolish enough to trust them with his livelihood after more foolishly disinheriting Cordelia and exiling Kent. A good example of this is presented in the very first scene. Lear cries to Kent, "Out of my sight!" to which Kent retorts, "See better, Lear, and let me still remain/ The true blank of thine eye" (I.i.158-159). He wishes to be allowed to remain the one who could center Lear's focus. Yet even when Kent reenters the play disguised, he cannot alter the course that Lear has begun. Lear becomes increasingly blind to the truth around him. Sight, or the lack of it, is referenced a few scenes later more explicitly when Lear himself notices that he has lost sight of what is important, so to say. He cries, "Does any here know me? This is not Lear./ Does Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?" (I.iv.216-217). Kent cannot become his eyes as the tragic plot and subplot move toward blindness and disillusion.

The subplot of child betraying sibling and father eerily and intentionally mirrors the plot of children betraying father and father betraying child. Shakespeare's method of juxtaposing the two plots through the interspersing of a scene relating to the plot with a scene centered around Edmund's sinister conspiracy allows the audience to have a heightened awareness of the actions of one through the other. In both, the strong, honorable patriarch is undone by the ingratitude of at least one of his children. Both patriarchs seem to have contributed slightly to the misdeeds of their children. Gloucester directly separates his sons as legitimate and illegitimate and mentions it frequently. He also notes that he sent Edmund away, likely because of his illegitimacy, for a long period of time and plans to do so again. Stripped of property and title, one is less surprised by Edmund's move to undo his destiny. However, Shakespeare creates in the characters of Edgar and Gloucester hearts which seem honorable and trusting, making Edmund's plot to betray them more disgusting. Note that Gloucester immediately believes the letter which Edmund shows him, not at once questioning Edmund's honesty although it would be doubtful that Gloucester had any previous reason to suspect or distrust Edgar. Similarly, Edgar immediately believes Edmund when he tells him he should worry about his safety and his relationship with his father. The audience gains from these interactions that Edmund has done nothing in the past to arouse suspicion. Instead it seems that he has been waiting patiently to upset the familial balance and now hurries to do so when threatened with further military service.

But remember, we must also keep in mind that an attempt to make sense out of every encounter and character intention is not the purpose of the play. Instead, we must explore the character flaws and relationship developments as they are entwined within the parable Shakespeare is constructing and expanding. The parable's breadth is exaggerated and amplified by the doubling of themes in the plot and subplot. The demise of the father's position through betrayal by his own children was considered to be one of the cruelest, harshest offenses imaginable. This reflection of plot, for which the seeds are planted in Act I, magnifies the horrors of the tragedy. In this manner, blindness is one of the main symbolic and physical vehicles through which Shakespeare describes the horrors of ingratitude, insincerity, and hypocrisy.

Goneril is represented to the audience as one of the most evil participants in the familial crimes taking place. This character description is illustrated through the contrast Shakespeare establishes between her and her husband. Woman as the most evil of characters is not a new experiment for Shakespeare. Shortly before writing King Lear, he created a Lady Macbeth who expressed the need to sacrifice one's own children if necessary to gain more power and who urged her more weakhearted husband to kill the kindhearted King. Though in the end of Macbeth Lady Macbeth is suffering from her evil, she was still the instigator who brought about the continued evils by urging her husband to yearn for more and more power. Here, Goneril also yearns for power but does not feel the need to aim indirectly for it. Albany is basically told to stay out of her way as he is too weak to know what is best. She places more trust in her servant Oswald, it seems, as she sends him off to run her important letter to Regan whereas she pushes Albany off to the side. She manipulates how her sister will act and the manner in which they will strip Lear of his property and authority. The stories she creates of Lear's riotous knights and so on are supported by nothing in Shakespeare's text. The characters in Lear's train who speak to him are well behaved, polite, and honorable. They try to protect him and Lear himself is shown well when he places the blame for Goneril's coldness on himself instead of her and her household. Thus we exit the first Act with the knowledge of Cordelia's goodness, Lear's previous goodness and impending madness, Fool's truth telling, Edmund's plotting, and Goneril's evil. The parable is well in place.

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King Lear Questions and Answers

The Question and Answer section for King Lear is a great resource to ask questions, find answers, and discuss the novel.

"Themes of King Lear are skilfully presented through imagery and symbolism"

King Lear is rife with animal imagery, as the play is known for interrogating whether mankind is anything "more" than animal after all. Most often, animal imagery appears in the form of savage or carnivorous beasts, usually associated with Goneril...

A tragic hero moves the reader to pity,since his misfortune is greater than he deserves,and also creates fear,since his tragedy might easily befall one of us.To what extent does Lear fit the definition of a tragic hero?

Check this out:

http://bailieborocslibrary.weebly.com/blog/lear-develops-more-as-a-tragic-hero-than-gloucester-discuss

Edmund's "Up With Bastards" soliloquy in King Lear

The repetition makes Edmund sound harsh and angry.

Study Guide for King Lear

King Lear study guide contains a biography of William Shakespeare, literature essays, a complete e-text, quiz questions, major themes, characters, and a full summary and analysis.

About King Lear
King Lear Summary
King Lear Video
Character List

Essays for King Lear

King Lear literature essays are academic essays for citation. These papers were written primarily by students and provide critical analysis of King Lear.

The Heroines of Crime and Punishment, King Lear, and To the Lighthouse
Folly of the Fool
Sight and Consciousness: An Interpretive Study in King Lear
An Examination of the Inverse Tropes of Sight and Blindness in King Lear
Gender, Power, and Economics in King Lear

Lesson Plan for King Lear

About the Author
Study Objectives
Common Core Standards
Introduction to King Lear
Relationship to Other Books
Bringing in Technology
Notes to the Teacher
Related Links
King Lear Bibliography

E-Text of King Lear

King Lear E-Text contains the full text of King Lear

Persons Represented

Wikipedia Entries for King Lear

Introduction

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Important Scenes in King Lear

King Lear is widely acknowledged as one of William Shakespeare’s great tragedies. This essay will identify and analyze a couple of key scenes from the play which makes a significant contribution to the overall development of plot, its character and the theme.

Act 1 Scene 1

The very first scene from the first act is important for various reasons. Firstly, it introduces all the central characters in the play and gives an indication as to their dispositions. Of the three daughters of King Lear, the two elder ones Goneril and Regan play the roles of antagonists along with the ever conspiring illegitimate son of Gloucester, Edmund. King Lear assembles in his court his heirs-apparent and key members of the nobility as he decides to announce the details of inheritance of his Kingdom. The ensuring dialogue between King Lear and his three daughters sets the tone for subsequent developments in the plot and also captures the essence of their personalities. The King decides that whichever daughter expresses a greater love for the old King and father will inherit a larger share of the bountiful land. In this context, Goneril and Regan speak of their love for their father in poetic terms, their message ridden with hyperbole. But, the old King is in no state to decipher the veracity of their statements and feels flattered by their praise. This exchange is important for the plot of the play, as it provides key insights into the thoughts and intentions of King Lear’s daughters. In later acts and scenes, the true nature of each of the daughters would unravel much to the disappointment and anguish of the old and fragile King. Though Cordelia’s words were more restrained and devoid of exaggeration, it is she who proves the more worthy of the siblings, as she comes to the King’s rescue and protect, especially when the latter finds himself in dire need of it. The scene is also significant in respect of its introduction of Edward, the illegitimate son ofGloucester, who would mastermind a conniving scheme to undermine the fortunes of his elder brother Edgar. Hence, the first scene of the first act is important for the overall development of plot, its character and the theme.

Act 3 Scene 2

The second scene of the third act is not only a key passage for the play but also finds a place in the Shakespearean canon. Here, King Lear, disillusioned with the treatment meted out to him by his two elder daughters, finds himself without an abode. Not only is his very life threatened in these circumstances but he is also pushed to the brink of sanity by the immediately preceding events. It is in this scene that the disgruntled King, being subject to the hardships of a ravaging thunderstorm utters those powerful words of wisdom. For example, the following lines are memorable for the tragic effect they induce in the audience.

“Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call’d you children, You owe me no subscription: then let fall Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man: But yet I call you servile ministers, That have with two pernicious daughters join’d Your high engender’d battles ‘gainst a head So old and white as this. O! O! ’tis foul!”

Here, King Lear is addressing Mother Nature herself, as he tries to make sense of the chaos and destruction that is both within and without. It is important to note that the tumult of wind and rain is related to personal betrayal by one’s own children. The remains of the King’s entourage, including Edgar and the fool, provide suitable backdrop to the scene. As the King continues to pour out his grief the fool interludes with his wise observations and remarks that adds to the overall dramatic effect. Although the climax of the plot was to come much later in the play, this scene is the most impressive for its poignant depiction of personal tragedy. The scene sets the tone for the impending realization and reconciliation with the faithful of the three daughters Cordelia. The poignancy also emerges from the loyalty shown by the King’s companions, especially Kent, who serves his King incognito.

Why are Shakespeare's rulers deeply mentally anguished?
A speculation on the most valuable book lost to humanity
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Major Themes in the Play “King Lear” by William Shakespeare Essay

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Appearance versus reality

Irresponsibility, authority and order, works cited.

The theme of madness is the most powerful aspect of this tragedy. King Lear is portrayed as being insane throughout the play and his condition deteriorates towards the end (Archer, Turley, and Thomas 521). Two of his daughters recognize their father’s mental state and perhaps take advantage of the insanity to acquire power at the expense of their younger sister (Edmiston and McKibben 97). However, the two daughters attribute their father’s mental challenge to his old age. The insanity influences most of the King’s decisions as he banishes his loyal daughter and divides power between the two disloyal children (Woodford 77). The decision to disown and curse his daughter, viz. Cordelia, is uninformed, as it cannot be expected from a mentality sound individual.

Some scholars argue that both Kent and Cordelia are aware of the King’s condition right from the beginning, which explains why they remain loyal to him even as he mistreats them (Archer, Turley, and Thomas 523). The madness is connected to the trouble that befalls the King later in his helpless state as he faces all sorts of mistreatments from the two daughters whom he gives the mandate to run the kingdom. Due to his insanity, he fails to make an informed decision regarding giving away power to the self-centered daughters.

This theme stands out throughout the play as everything works against the readers’ expectations (Edmiston and McKibben 96). In the opening scenes of the play, King Lear relies on his older daughters’ faked sycophancy, and thus he rewards them with his kingdom. In addition, against the audience’s expectations, he sends away Cordelia, who is the only loyal daughter. In addition, he banishes Kent, who is one of his closest confidantes, on grounds of disloyalty. However, his two older daughters, whom he entrusts with his kingdom, are disloyal to him (Moore 181). The two daughters, whom he entrusts the kingdom, later betray him by mistreating and neglecting him in his old age.

Edmond conspires to discredit Edgar, his brother in-law, to his father (Ioppolo 139). Based on the conspiracy, his father sends Edgar away and shifts his trust on Edmond. However, Edmond is a traitor and he is only driven by jealousy to have his brother evicted so that he can gain power in the kingdom (Archer, Turley, and Thomas 529). As opposed to the expectations of his father, Edmond later causes trouble in the kingdom. The loyal characters in the play are expected to hold the best positions in the kingdom; however, they are portrayed as the poorest, while the disloyal persons hold powerful positions. Therefore, disloyalty wins over loyalty in this kingdom.

The theme of blindness stand out clearly in King Lear in relation to the physical blindness of Gloucester, who has his eye plucked off by Cornwall and Regan due to being loyal to the King (Urkowitz 136). The physical blindness is symbolic of mental blindness in decisions made by the main characters in the play. Such blindness is especially evidenced by the shortsighted decisions made by both King Lear and Gloucester in the play. The two are blind while selecting their favorite children to reward. For example, the King expels the honest child from his palace and gives leadership to the two irresponsible daughters (Edmiston and McKibben 92).

Blindness is also evidenced by the neglect concerning one’s responsibilities. For example, Gloucester is a philanderer and his behavior leads to the birth of an illegitimate child, viz. Edmund (Woodford 167). Edmund later becomes a threat to the kingdom to the extent of attempting to attain illegitimately. On his part, King Lear is blind in addressing the needs of the people that he serves as the King. He ignores the needs of the less fortunate instead of assisting them, as expected of a servant leader.

The play portrays both King Lear and Gloucester as irresponsible persons who lack the virtue of mercy (Archer, Turley, and Thomas 522). The King, in his capacity as the head of the throne, is expected to address the problems of the poor and less fortunate groups in society. Conversely, he ignores such issues. In the play, the King does not address the key issues affecting the needy. The King is self-centered and he does not exercise the servant style of leadership as expected of him. This self-centered nature of the King leads to the failure of his throne later on (Moore 182).

The irresponsible character of the King is also seen in his decision to delegate his roles and responsibilities to his irresponsible daughters, who are equally self-centered. Similarly, they do not care about the needs of the public (Edmiston and McKibben 89). In addition, the King has the responsibility of taking care of his youngest daughter. In addition, he has the responsibility of treating his daughters as equals (Woodford 113). However, due to his irresponsible character, he forces Cordelia out of his house and forgets about her. As a parent, one is supposed to take care of his/her children regardless of whether they are loyal or disloyal. However, the King is oblivious of his duties as a parent and a role model to his followers.

Just as the King has the responsibility of taking care of his daughter, Cordelia equally owes her father the duty of taking good care of him in his weak mental state (Moore 175). However, she neglects this role. On the other hand, Gloucester has the responsibility of taking care of his wife on top of remaining faithful (Archer, Turley, and Thomas 536). Husbands are expected to remain faithful to their wives. On the contrary, Gloucester’s philandering ways lead to the birth of a love child. This child later on causes problems in the kingdom by trying to rise to power illegitimately. In addition, Gloucester overlooks his responsibilities as a father by expelling one of his sons on grounds of disloyalty and dishonesty (Archer, Turley, and Thomas 521).

The theme of power is evident at the beginning of the play where King Lear is portrayed as powerful and authoritative (Ioppolo 173). The aspect of power is seen in how he conducts his business without consulting his close allies. For example, he conducts the dramatic ceremony to divide power between his two daughters in the watch of Gloucester, Kent, and others. These individuals should question the King’s decision, but they opt to remain silent and watch as the events unfold (Urkowitz 112).

Power in this tragedy is not only exercised at the national level, but also at the family level. Without consulting anyone, the King expels his youngest daughter on grounds of being disloyal to his kingship. Divine power is also evident in the play as the King seeks providential help especially after the two daughters mistreat him later in his helpless state (Edmiston and McKibben 87). The King is heard ordering divine powers to come down and take his part after having a serious quarrel with the daughters.

Finally, the theme of old age stands out towards the end of the play. Due to old age, King Lear has to give up leadership to his daughters by claiming that he does not want to go to the grave burdened (Moore 169). King Lear has the sense that old age forces one to surrender some responsibilities as a way of preparing for death. Goneril and Regan recognize their father’s old age. They argue that his madness is mainly due to his age. Seemingly, the play suggests that old age deserves respect as Lear calls upon the gods to look at his old age and intervene in overcoming his tribulations (Archer, Turley, and Thomas 518).

However, the two daughters do not respect the fact that their father is old, and thus he deserves respect. On the contrary, they insult, ridicule, and neglect him. In addition, they do not take instructions from him, which leads to the fall of the kingdom. Madness and old age stand out as the most critical factors that influence the King’s decisions (Edmiston and McKibben 87). The two factors cause the King to make uninformed decisions leading to the downfall of the kingdom soon after his retirement. The old age contributes to the severity of the King’s mental illness.

Archer, Jayne, Richard Turley, and Howard Thomas. “The Autumn King: Remembering the Land in King Lear.” Shakespeare Quarterly 63.4 (2012): 518-543. Print.

Edmiston, Brian, and Amy McKibben. “Shakespeare, rehearsal approaches, and dramatic inquiry: Literacy education for life.” English in Education 45.1 (2011): 86-101. Print.

Ioppolo, Grace. A Routledge Literary Sourcebook on William Shakespeare’s King Lear , New York: Psychology Press, 2003. Print.

Moore, Peter. “The Nature of King Lear.” English Studies 87.2 (2006): 169-190. Print.

Urkowitz, Steven. Shakespeare’s Revision of King Lear , Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014. Print.

Woodford, Donna. Understanding King Lear: A student casebook to issues, sources, and historical documents . Santa Barbara: Greenwood Publishing, 2004. Print.

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Every puny whipster. — Othello , Act V Scene 2

The Tragedy of King Lear

(complete text)

King Lear’s Palace.

The Earl of Gloucester’s Castle.

The Duke of Albany’s Palace.

Court before the Duke of Albany’s Palace. Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.

A court within the Castle of the Earl of Gloucester.

Before Gloucester’s Castle.

The open country.

Before Gloucester’s Castle; Kent in the stocks.

A heath. Storm still.

Another part of the heath. Storm still.

Gloucester’s Castle.

The heath. Before a hovel. Storm still.

Gloucester’s Castle.

A farmhouse near Gloucester’s Castle.

Gloucester’s Castle.

The heath.

Before the Duke of Albany’s Palace.

The French camp near Dover.

The French camp.

Gloucester’s Castle.

The country near Dover.

A tent in the French camp.

The British camp near Dover.

A field between the two camps. Alarum within.

The British camp, near Dover.

Act I, Scene 1

King Lear’s Palace.

Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund. [Kent and Gloucester converse. Edmund stands back.] . I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than
Cornwall. . 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 5
equalities are so weigh'd that curiosity in neither can make
choice of either's moiety. . Is not this your son, my lord? . His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often
blush'd to acknowledge him that now I am braz'd to't. 10 . I cannot conceive you. . Sir, this young fellow's mother could; whereupon she grew
round-womb'd, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she
had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? . I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so 15
proper. . But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year elder than
this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came
something saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was
his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the 20
whoreson must be acknowledged.- Do you know this noble gentleman,
Edmund? . No, my lord. . My Lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honourable
friend. 25 . My services to your lordship. . I must love you, and sue to know you better. . Sir, I shall study deserving. . He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again.
30
The King is coming.

Enter one bearing a coronet; then Lear; then the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall; next, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, with Followers. . Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. . I shall, my liege.

Exeunt [Gloucester and Edmund]. . Meantime we shall express our darker purpose.
Give me the map there. Know we have divided
In three our kingdom; and 'tis our fast intent
To shake all cares and business from our age,
Conferring them on younger strengths while we 40
Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,
And you, our no less loving son of Albany,
We have this hour a constant will to publish
Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife
May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, 45
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love,
Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,
And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters
(Since now we will divest us both of rule,
Interest of territory, cares of state), 50
Which of you shall we say doth love us most?
That we our largest bounty may extend
Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first. . Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; 55
Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;
As much as child e'er lov'd, or father found;
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable. 60
Beyond all manner of so much I love you. . What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent. . Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, 65
We make thee lady. To thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual.- What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak. . Sir, I am made
Of the selfsame metal that my sister is, 70
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short, that I profess
Myself an enemy to all other joys
Which the most precious square of sense possesses, 75
And find I am alone felicitate
In your dear Highness' love. . Then poor Cordelia!
And yet not so; since I am sure my love's
More richer than my tongue. 80 . To thee and thine hereditary ever
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom,
No less in space, validity, and pleasure
Than that conferr'd on Goneril.- Now, our joy,
Although the last, not least; to whose young love 85
The vines of France and milk of Burgundy
Strive to be interest; what can you say to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. . Nothing, my lord. . Nothing? 90 . Nothing. . Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again. . Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave
My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty
According to my bond; no more nor less. 95 . How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little,
Lest it may mar your fortunes. . Good my lord,
You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me; I
Return those duties back as are right fit, 100
Obey you, love you, and most honour you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care and duty. 105
Sure I shall never marry like my sisters,
To love my father all. . But goes thy heart with this? . Ay, good my lord. . So young, and so untender? 110 . So young, my lord, and true. . Let it be so! thy truth then be thy dower!
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun,
The mysteries of Hecate and the night;
By all the operation of the orbs 115
From whom we do exist and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
Hold thee from this for ever. The barbarous Scythian, 120
Or he that makes his generation messes
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd,
As thou my sometime daughter. . Good my liege- 125 . Peace, Kent!
Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
I lov'd her most, and thought to set my rest
On her kind nursery.- Hence and avoid my sight!-
So be my grave my peace as here I give 130
Her father's heart from her! Call France! Who stirs?
Call Burgundy! Cornwall and Albany,
With my two daughters' dowers digest this third;
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.
I do invest you jointly in my power, 135
Preeminence, and all the large effects
That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,
With reservation of an hundred knights,
By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode
Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain 140
The name, and all th' additions to a king. The sway,
Revenue, execution of the rest,
Beloved sons, be yours; which to confirm,
This coronet part betwixt you. . Royal Lear, 145
Whom I have ever honour'd as my king,
Lov'd as my father, as my master follow'd,
As my great patron thought on in my prayers- . The bow is bent and drawn; make from the shaft. . Let it fall rather, though the fork invade 150
The region of my heart! Be Kent unmannerly
When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, old man?
Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak
When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound
When majesty falls to folly. Reverse thy doom; 155
And in thy best consideration check
This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment,
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least,
Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound
Reverbs no hollowness. 160 . Kent, on thy life, no more! . My life I never held but as a pawn
To wage against thine enemies; nor fear to lose it,
Thy safety being the motive. . Out of my sight! 165 . See better, Lear, and let me still remain
The true blank of thine eye. . Now by Apollo- . Now by Apollo, King,
Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. 170 . O vassal! miscreant! . Dear sir, forbear! . Do!
Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift, 175
Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat,
I'll tell thee thou dost evil. . Hear me, recreant!
On thine allegiance, hear me!
Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow- 180
Which we durst never yet- and with strain'd pride
To come between our sentence and our power,-
Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,-
Our potency made good, take thy reward.
Five days we do allot thee for provision 185
To shield thee from diseases of the world,
And on the sixth to turn thy hated back
Upon our kingdom. If, on the tenth day following,
Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions,
The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter, 190
This shall not be revok'd. . Fare thee well, King. Since thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,
That justly think'st and hast most rightly said! 195
And your large speeches may your deeds
approve,
That good effects may spring from words of love.
Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu;
He'll shape his old course in a country new. Exit. 200

Flourish. Enter Gloucester, with France and Burgundy; Attendants. . Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. . My Lord of Burgundy,
We first address toward you, who with this king
Hath rivall'd for our daughter. What in the least 205
Will you require in present dower with her,
Or cease your quest of love? . Most royal Majesty,
I crave no more than hath your Highness offer'd,
Nor will you tender less. 210 . Right noble Burgundy,
When she was dear to us, we did hold her so;
But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands.
If aught within that little seeming substance,
Or all of it, with our displeasure piec'd, 215
And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace,
She's there, and she is yours. . I know no answer. . Will you, with those infirmities she owes,
Unfriended, new adopted to our hate, 220
Dow'r'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath,
Take her, or leave her? . Pardon me, royal sir.
Election makes not up on such conditions. . Then leave her, sir; for, by the pow'r that made me, 225
I tell you all her wealth. For you, great King,
I would not from your love make such a stray
To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you
T' avert your liking a more worthier way
Than on a wretch whom nature is asham'd 230
Almost t' acknowledge hers. . This is most strange,
That she that even but now was your best object,
The argument of your praise, balm of your age,
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time 235
Commit a thing so monstrous to dismantle
So many folds of favour. Sure her offence
Must be of such unnatural degree
That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection
Fall'n into taint; which to believe of her 240
Must be a faith that reason without miracle
Should never plant in me. . I yet beseech your Majesty,
If for I want that glib and oily art
To speak and purpose not, since what I well intend, 245
I'll do't before I speak- that you make known
It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulness,
No unchaste action or dishonoured step,
That hath depriv'd me of your grace and favour;
But even for want of that for which I am richer- 250
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue
As I am glad I have not, though not to have it
Hath lost me in your liking. . Better thou
Hadst not been born than not t' have pleas'd me better. 255 . Is it but this- a tardiness in nature
Which often leaves the history unspoke
That it intends to do? My Lord of Burgundy,
What say you to the lady? Love's not love
When it is mingled with regards that stands 260
Aloof from th' entire point. Will you have her?
She is herself a dowry. . Royal Lear,
Give but that portion which yourself propos'd,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand, 265
Duchess of Burgundy. . Nothing! I have sworn; I am firm. . I am sorry then you have so lost a father
That you must lose a husband. . Peace be with Burgundy! 270
Since that respects of fortune are his love,
I shall not be his wife. . Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor;
Most choice, forsaken; and most lov'd, despis'd!
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon. 275
Be it lawful I take up what's cast away.
Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect
My love should kindle to inflam'd respect.
Thy dow'rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France. 280
Not all the dukes in wat'rish Burgundy
Can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me.
Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind.
Thou losest here, a better where to find. . Thou hast her, France; let her be thine; for we 285
Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see
That face of hers again. Therefore be gone
Without our grace, our love, our benison.
Come, noble Burgundy.

Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, [Cornwall, Albany, Gloucester, and Attendants]. . Bid farewell to your sisters. . The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes
Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are;
And, like a sister, am most loath to call
Your faults as they are nam'd. Use well our father. 295
To your professed bosoms I commit him;
But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,
I would prefer him to a better place!
So farewell to you both. . Prescribe not us our duties. 300 . Let your study
Be to content your lord, who hath receiv'd you
At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted,
And well are worth the want that you have wanted. . Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides. 305
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
Well may you prosper! . Come, my fair Cordelia.

Exeunt France and Cordelia. . Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly 310
appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night. . That's most certain, and with you; next month with us. . You see how full of changes his age is. The observation we
have made of it hath not been little. He always lov'd our
sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her 315
off appears too grossly. . 'Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he hath ever but slenderly
known himself. . The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then
must we look to receive from his age, not alone the 320
imperfections of long-ingraffed condition, but therewithal
the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with
them. . Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this
of Kent's banishment. 325 . There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and
him. Pray you let's hit together. If our father carry authority
with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his
will but offend us. . We shall further think on't. 330 . We must do something, and i' th' heat.

Exeunt.

Act I, Scene 2

The Earl of Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter [Edmund the] Bastard solus, [with a letter]. . Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I 335
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact, 340
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality 345
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to th' creating a whole tribe of fops
Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land.
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund 350
As to th' legitimate. Fine word- 'legitimate'!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top th' legitimate. I grow; I prosper.
Now, gods, stand up for bastards! 355

Enter Gloucester. . Kent banish'd thus? and France in choler parted?
And the King gone to-night? subscrib'd his pow'r?
Confin'd to exhibition? All this done
Upon the gad? Edmund, how now? What news? 360 . So please your lordship, none.

[Puts up the letter.] . Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter? . I know no news, my lord. . What paper were you reading? 365 . Nothing, my lord. . No? What needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your
pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide
itself. Let's see. Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need
spectacles. 370 . I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother
that I have not all o'er-read; and for so much as I have
perus'd, I find it not fit for your o'erlooking. . Give me the letter, sir. . I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as 375
in part I understand them, are to blame. . Let's see, let's see! . I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote this but as
an essay or taste of my virtue. . 'This policy and reverence of age makes the world 380
bitter to the best of our times; keeps our fortunes from us
till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle
and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways,
not as it hath power, but as it is suffer'd. Come to me, that
of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I 385
wak'd him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever, and live
the beloved of your brother,
'EDGAR.'
Hum! Conspiracy? 'Sleep till I wak'd him, you should enjoy half
his revenue.' My son Edgar! Had he a hand to write this? a heart 390
and brain to breed it in? When came this to you? Who brought it? . It was not brought me, my lord: there's the cunning of it. I
found it thrown in at the casement of my closet. . You know the character to be your brother's? . If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his; 395
but in respect of that, I would fain think it were not. . It is his. . It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is not in the
contents. . Hath he never before sounded you in this business? 400 . Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit
that, sons at perfect age, and fathers declining, the father
should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. . O villain, villain! His very opinion in the letter! Abhorred
villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain! worse than 405
brutish! Go, sirrah, seek him. I'll apprehend him. Abominable
villain! Where is he? . I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend
your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him
better testimony of his intent, you should run a certain course; 410
where, if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his
purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honour and shake
in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life
for him that he hath writ this to feel my affection to your
honour, and to no other pretence of danger. 415 . Think you so? . If your honour judge it meet, I will place you where you shall
hear us confer of this and by an auricular assurance have your
satisfaction, and that without any further delay than this very
evening. 420 . He cannot be such a monster. . Nor is not, sure. . To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him.
Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him out; wind me into him, I pray
you; frame the business after your own wisdom. I would unstate 425
myself to be in a due resolution. . I will seek him, sir, presently; convey the business as I
shall find means, and acquaint you withal. . These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to
us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet 430
nature finds itself scourg'd by the sequent effects. Love cools,
friendship falls off, brothers divide. In cities, mutinies; in
countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond crack'd
'twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the
prediction; there's son against father: the King falls from bias 435
of nature; there's father against child. We have seen the best
of our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all
ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out
this villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it
carefully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent banish'd! his 440
offence, honesty! 'Tis strange. Exit. . This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are
sick in fortune, often the surfeit of our own behaviour, we make
guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if
we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; 445
knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical pre-dominance;
drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforc'd obedience of
planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine
thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whore-master man, to lay
his goatish disposition to the charge of a star! My father 450
compounded with my mother under the Dragon's Tail, and my
nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows I am rough and
lecherous. Fut! I should have been that I am, had the
maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.
Edgar- 455

and pat! he comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy. My
cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam.
O, these eclipses do portend these divisions! Fa, sol, la, mi. . How now, brother Edmund? What serious contemplation are you 460
in? . I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day,
what should follow these eclipses. . Do you busy yourself with that? . I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily: as 465
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. 470 . How long have you been a sectary astronomical? . Come, come! When saw you my father last? . The night gone by. . Spake you with him? . Ay, two hours together. 475 . Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by
word or countenance . None at all. . Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him; and at my
entreaty forbear his presence until some little time hath 480
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. . Some villain hath done me wrong. . That's my fear. I pray you have a continent forbearance till 485
the speed of his rage goes slower; and, as I say, retire with me
to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my
lord speak. Pray ye, go! There's my key. If you do stir abroad,
go arm'd. . Arm'd, brother? 490 . Brother, I advise you to the best. Go arm'd. I am no honest man
if there be any good meaning toward you. I have told you what I
have seen and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image and
horror of it. Pray you, away! . Shall I hear from you anon? 495 . I do serve you in this business.

A credulous father! and a brother noble,
Whose nature is so far from doing harms
That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty 500
My practices ride easy! I see the business.
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit;
All with me's meet that I can fashion fit. Exit.

Act I, Scene 3

The Duke of Albany’s Palace.

Enter Goneril and [her] Steward [Oswald]. . Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? 505 . Ay, madam. . By day and night, he wrongs me! Every hour
He flashes into one gross crime or other
That sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it.
His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us 510
On every trifle. When he returns from hunting,
I will not speak with him. Say I am sick.
If you come slack of former services,
You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer.

[Horns within.] . He's coming, madam; I hear him. . Put on what weary negligence you please,
You and your fellows. I'd have it come to question.
If he distaste it, let him to our sister,
Whose mind and mine I know in that are one, 520
Not to be overrul'd. Idle old man,
That still would manage those authorities
That he hath given away! Now, by my life,
Old fools are babes again, and must be us'd
With checks as flatteries, when they are seen abus'd. 525
Remember what I have said. . Very well, madam. . And let his knights have colder looks among you.
What grows of it, no matter. Advise your fellows so.
I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, 530
That I may speak. I'll write straight to my sister
To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner.

Exeunt.

Act I, Scene 4

The Duke of Albany’s Palace.

Enter Kent, [disguised]. . If but as well I other accents borrow, 535
That can my speech defuse, my good intent
May carry through itself to that full issue
For which I raz'd my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent,
If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd,
So may it come, thy master, whom thou lov'st, 540
Shall find thee full of labours.
Horns within. Enter Lear, and Attendants. . Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. How now? What art thou? . A man, sir. 545 . What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou with us? . I do profess to be no less than I seem, to serve him truly
that will put me in trust, to love him that is honest, to
converse with him that is wise and says little, to fear
judgment, to fight when I cannot choose, and to eat no fish. 550 . What art thou? . A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King. . If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a king, thou
art poor enough. What wouldst thou? . Service. 555 . Who wouldst thou serve? . You. . Dost thou know me, fellow? . No, sir; but you have that in your countenance which I would
fain call master. 560 . What's that? . Authority. . What services canst thou do? . I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious tale in
telling it and deliver a plain message bluntly. That which 565
ordinary men are fit for, I am qualified in, and the best of me
is diligence. . How old art thou? . Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor so old to
dote on her for anything. I have years on my back forty-eight. 570 . Follow me; thou shalt serve me. If I like thee no worse after
dinner, I will not part from thee yet. Dinner, ho, dinner!
Where's my knave? my fool? Go you and call my fool hither.

Steward.] 575
You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? . So please you- Exit. . What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back.
Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's
asleep. 580

How now? Where's that mongrel? . He says, my lord, your daughter is not well. . Why came not the slave back to me when I call'd him? . Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would not. 585 . He would not? . My lord, I know not what the matter is; but to my judgment
your Highness is not entertain'd with that ceremonious affection
as you were wont. There's a great abatement of kindness appears
as well in the general dependants as in the Duke himself also 590
and your daughter. . Ha! say'st thou so? . I beseech you pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; for
my duty cannot be silent when I think your Highness wrong'd. . Thou but rememb'rest me of mine own conception. I have 595
perceived a most faint neglect of late, which I have rather
blamed as mine own jealous curiosity than as a very pretence
and purpose of unkindness. I will look further into't. But
where's my fool? I have not seen him this two days. . Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the fool 600
hath much pined away. . No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you and tell my
daughter I would speak with her. Go you, call
hither my fool.
605
Steward.]
O, you, sir, you! Come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir? . My lady's father. . 'My lady's father'? My lord's knave! You whoreson dog! you
slave! you cur! 610 . I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon. . Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal?

[Strikes him.] . I'll not be strucken, my lord. . Nor tripp'd neither, you base football player? 615

[Trips up his heels. . I thank thee, fellow. Thou serv'st me, and I'll love thee. . Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences. Away,
away! If you will measure your lubber's length again, tarry; but
away! Go to! Have you wisdom? So. 620

[Pushes him out.] . Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee. There's earnest of thy
service.

Enter Fool. . Let me hire him too. Here's my coxcomb. 625

[Offers Kent his cap.] . How now, my pretty knave? How dost thou? . Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. . Why, fool? . Why? For taking one's part that's out of favour. Nay, an thou 630
canst not smile as the wind sits, thou'lt catch cold shortly.
There, take my coxcomb! Why, this fellow hath banish'd two on's
daughters, and did the third a blessing against his will. If
thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb.- How now,
nuncle? Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters! 635 . Why, my boy? . If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs myself.
There's mine! beg another of thy daughters. . Take heed, sirrah- the whip. . Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipp'd out, when 640
Lady the brach may stand by th' fire and stink. . A pestilent gall to me! . Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. . Do. . Mark it, nuncle. 645
Have more than thou showest,
Speak less than thou knowest,
Lend less than thou owest,
Ride more than thou goest,
Learn more than thou trowest, 650
Set less than thou throwest;
Leave thy drink and thy whore,
And keep in-a-door,
And thou shalt have more
Than two tens to a score. 655 . This is nothing, fool. . Then 'tis like the breath of an unfeed lawyer- you gave me
nothing for't. Can you make no use of nothing, nuncle? . Why, no, boy. Nothing can be made out of nothing. . Prithee tell him, so much the rent of his land 660
comes to. He will not believe a fool. . A bitter fool! . Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter
fool and a sweet fool? . No, lad; teach me. 665 . That lord that counsell'd thee
To give away thy land,
Come place him here by me-
Do thou for him stand.
The sweet and bitter fool 670
Will presently appear;
The one in motley here,
The other found out there. . Dost thou call me fool, boy? . All thy other titles thou hast given away; that thou wast 675
born with. . This is not altogether fool, my lord. . No, faith; lords and great men will not let me. If I had a
monopoly out, they would have part on't. And ladies too, they
will not let me have all the fool to myself; they'll be 680
snatching. Give me an egg, nuncle, and I'll give thee two
crowns. . What two crowns shall they be? . Why, after I have cut the egg i' th' middle and eat up the
meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i' 685
th' middle and gav'st away both parts, thou bor'st thine ass on
thy back o'er the dirt. Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown
when thou gav'st thy golden one away. If I speak like myself in
this, let him be whipp'd that first finds it so.
Fools had ne'er less grace in a year, 690
For wise men are grown foppish;
They know not how their wits to wear,
Their manners are so apish. . When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah? . I have us'd it, nuncle, ever since thou mad'st thy daughters 695
thy mother; for when thou gav'st them the rod, and put'st down
thine own breeches,
Then they for sudden joy did weep,
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep 700
And go the fools among.
Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach thy fool to
lie. I would fain learn to lie. . An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipp'd. . I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are. They'll have me 705
whipp'd for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipp'd for lying;
and sometimes I am whipp'd for holding my peace. I had rather be
any kind o' thing than a fool! And yet I would not be thee,
nuncle. Thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides and left nothing
i' th' middle. Here comes one o' the parings. 710

Enter Goneril. . How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on? Methinks you
are too much o' late i' th' frown. . Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for
her frowning. Now thou art an O without a figure. I am better 715
than thou art now: I am a fool, thou art nothing.
Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue. So your face
bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum!
He that keeps nor crust nor crum,
Weary of all, shall want some.- 720
That's a sheal'd peascod. . Not only, sir, this your all-licens'd fool,
But other of your insolent retinue
Do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth
In rank and not-to-be-endured riots. Sir, 725
I had thought, by making this well known unto you,
To have found a safe redress, but now grow fearful,
By what yourself, too, late have spoke and done,
That you protect this course, and put it on
By your allowance; which if you should, the fault 730
Would not scape censure, nor the redresses sleep,
Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal,
Might in their working do you that offence
Which else were shame, that then necessity
Must call discreet proceeding. 735 . For you know, nuncle,
The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long
That it had it head bit off by it young.
So out went the candle, and we were left darkling. . Are you our daughter? 740 . Come, sir,
I would you would make use of that good wisdom
Whereof I know you are fraught, and put away
These dispositions that of late transform you
From what you rightly are. 745 . May not an ass know when the cart draws the horse?
Whoop, Jug, I love thee! . Doth any here know me? This is not Lear.
Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes?
Either his notion weakens, his discernings 750
Are lethargied- Ha! waking? 'Tis not so!
Who is it that can tell me who I am? . Lear's shadow. . I would learn that; for, by the marks of sovereignty,
Knowledge, and reason, I should be false persuaded 755
I had daughters. . Which they will make an obedient father. . Your name, fair gentlewoman? . This admiration, sir, is much o' th' savour
Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you 760
To understand my purposes aright.
As you are old and reverend, you should be wise.
Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires;
Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd, and bold
That this our court, infected with their manners, 765
Shows like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel
Than a grac'd palace. The shame itself doth speak
For instant remedy. Be then desir'd
By her that else will take the thing she begs 770
A little to disquantity your train,
And the remainder that shall still depend
To be such men as may besort your age,
Which know themselves, and you. . Darkness and devils! 775
Saddle my horses! Call my train together!
Degenerate bastard, I'll not trouble thee;
Yet have I left a daughter. . You strike my people, and your disorder'd rabble
Make servants of their betters. 780

Enter Albany. . Woe that too late repents!- O, sir, are you come?
Is it your will? Speak, sir!- Prepare my horses.
Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child 785
Than the sea-monster! . Pray, sir, be patient. . Detested kite, thou liest!
My train are men of choice and rarest parts,
That all particulars of duty know 790
And in the most exact regard support
The worships of their name.- O most small fault,
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show!
Which, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature
From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all love 795
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear!
Beat at this gate that let thy folly in
And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people. . My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant
Of what hath mov'd you. 800 . It may be so, my lord.
Hear, Nature, hear! dear goddess, hear!
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful.
Into her womb convey sterility; 805
Dry up in her the organs of increase;
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen, that it may live
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her. 810
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks,
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
To laughter and contempt, that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 815
To have a thankless child! Away, away! Exit. . Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? . Never afflict yourself to know the cause;
But let his disposition have that scope
That dotage gives it. 820

Enter Lear. . What, fifty of my followers at a clap?
Within a fortnight? . What's the matter, sir? . I'll tell thee. Life and death! I am asham'd 825
That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus;
That these hot tears, which break from me perforce,
Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee!
Th' untented woundings of a father's curse
Pierce every sense about thee!- Old fond eyes, 830
Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out,
And cast you, with the waters that you lose,
To temper clay. Yea, is it come to this?
Let it be so. Yet have I left a daughter,
Who I am sure is kind and comfortable. 835
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails
She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think
I have cast off for ever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.

Exeunt [Lear, Kent, and Attendants]. . Do you mark that, my lord? . I cannot be so partial, Goneril,
To the great love I bear you— . Pray you, content.- What, Oswald, ho!
You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master! 845 . Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry! Take the fool with thee.
A fox when one has caught her,
And such a daughter,
Should sure to the slaughter,
If my cap would buy a halter. 850
So the fool follows after. Exit. . This man hath had good counsel! A hundred knights?
'Tis politic and safe to let him keep
At point a hundred knights; yes, that on every dream,
Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, 855
He may enguard his dotage with their pow'rs
And hold our lives in mercy.- Oswald, I say! . Well, you may fear too far. . Safer than trust too far.
Let me still take away the harms I fear, 860
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart.
What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister.
If she sustain him and his hundred knights,
When I have show'd th' unfitness- Steward.]
How now, Oswald? 865
What, have you writ that letter to my sister? . Yes, madam. . Take you some company, and away to horse!
Inform her full of my particular fear,
And thereto add such reasons of your own 870
As may compact it more. Get you gone,
And hasten your return. No, no, my lord!
This milky gentleness and course of yours,
Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon,
You are much more at task for want of wisdom 875
Than prais'd for harmful mildness. . How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell.
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. . Nay then- . Well, well; th' event. Exeunt. 880

Act I, Scene 5

Court before the Duke of Albany’s Palace. Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.

. Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. Acquaint my
daughter no further with anything you know than comes from her
demand out of the letter. If your diligence be not speedy, I
shall be there afore you. . I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered your letter. Exit. 885 . If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in danger of
kibes? . Ay, boy. . Then I prithee be merry. Thy wit shall ne'er go slip-shod. . Ha, ha, ha! 890 . Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; for though
she's as like this as a crab's like an apple, yet I can tell
what I can tell. . What canst tell, boy? . She'll taste as like this as a crab does to a crab. Thou 895
canst tell why one's nose stands i' th' middle on's face? . No. . Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose, that what a
man cannot smell out, 'a may spy into. . I did her wrong. 900 . Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell? . No. . Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house. . Why? . Why, to put's head in; not to give it away to his daughters, 905
and leave his horns without a case. . I will forget my nature. So kind a father!- Be my horses
ready? . Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the seven stars
are no moe than seven is a pretty reason. 910 . Because they are not eight? . Yes indeed. Thou wouldst make a good fool. . To tak't again perforce! Monster ingratitude! . If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten for being
old before thy time. 915 . How's that? . Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise. . O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!
Keep me in temper; I would not be mad!
How now? Are the horses ready? 920 . Ready, my lord. . Come, boy. . She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter

Exeunt.

Act II, Scene 1

A court within the Castle of the Earl of Gloucester.

Enter [Edmund the] Bastard and Curan, meeting. . Save thee, Curan. . And you, sir. I have been with your father, and given him
notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan his Duchess will be
here with him this night. 930 . How comes that? . Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad- I mean the
whisper'd ones, for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments? . Not I. Pray you, what are they? . Have you heard of no likely wars toward 'twixt the two Dukes 935
of Cornwall and Albany? . Not a word. . You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. Exit. . The Duke be here to-night? The better! best!
This weaves itself perforce into my business. 940
My father hath set guard to take my brother;
And I have one thing, of a queasy question,
Which I must act. Briefness and fortune, work!
Brother, a word! Descend! Brother, I say!
945
My father watches. O sir, fly this place!
Intelligence is given where you are hid.
You have now the good advantage of the night.
Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall?
He's coming hither; now, i' th' night, i' th' haste, 950
And Regan with him. Have you nothing said
Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany?
Advise yourself. . I am sure on't, not a word. . I hear my father coming. Pardon me! 955
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.
960
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion
Of my more fierce endeavour. I have seen
drunkards
Do more than this in sport.- Father, father!-
Stop, stop! No help? 965

Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches. . Now, Edmund, where's the villain? . Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out,
Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon
To stand 's auspicious mistress. 970 . But where is he? . Look, sir, I bleed. . Where is the villain, Edmund? . Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could- . Pursue him, ho! Go after. . 975
By no means what? . Persuade me to the murther of your lordship;
But that I told him the revenging gods
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend;
Spoke with how manifold and strong a bond 980
The child was bound to th' father- sir, in fine,
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion
With his prepared sword he charges home
My unprovided body, lanch'd mine arm; 985
But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits,
Bold in the quarrel's right, rous'd to th' encounter,
Or whether gasted by the noise I made,
Full suddenly he fled. . Let him fly far. 990
Not in this land shall he remain uncaught;
And found- dispatch. The noble Duke my master,
My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night.
By his authority I will proclaim it
That he which find, him shall deserve our thanks, 995
Bringing the murderous caitiff to the stake;
He that conceals him, death. . When I dissuaded him from his intent
And found him pight to do it, with curst speech
I threaten'd to discover him. He replied, 1000
'Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think,
If I would stand against thee, would the reposal
Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee
Make thy words faith'd? No. What I should deny
(As this I would; ay, though thou didst produce 1005
My very character), I'ld turn it all
To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practice;
And thou must make a dullard of the world,
If they not thought the profits of my death
Were very pregnant and potential spurs 1010
To make thee seek it.' . Strong and fast'ned villain!
Would he deny his letter? I never got him.

Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes. 1015
All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not scape;
The Duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom
May have due note of him, and of my land,
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means 1020
To make thee capable.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, and Attendants. . How now, my noble friend? Since I came hither
(Which I can call but now) I have heard strange news. . If it be true, all vengeance comes too short 1025
Which can pursue th' offender. How dost, my lord? . O madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd! . What, did my father's godson seek your life?
He whom my father nam'd? Your Edgar? . O lady, lady, shame would have it hid! 1030 . Was he not companion with the riotous knights
That tend upon my father? . I know not, madam. 'Tis too bad, too bad! . Yes, madam, he was of that consort. . No marvel then though he were ill affected. 1035
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
To have th' expense and waste of his revenues.
I have this present evening from my sister
Been well inform'd of them, and with such cautions
That, if they come to sojourn at my house, 1040
I'll not be there. . Nor I, assure thee, Regan.
Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father
A childlike office. . 'Twas my duty, sir. 1045 . He did bewray his practice, and receiv'd
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. . Is he pursued? . Ay, my good lord. . If he be taken, he shall never more 1050
Be fear'd of doing harm. Make your own purpose,
How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund,
Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant
So much commend itself, you shall be ours.
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; 1055
You we first seize on. . I shall serve you, sir,
Truly, however else. . For him I thank your Grace. . You know not why we came to visit you- 1060 . Thus out of season, threading dark-ey'd night.
Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise,
Wherein we must have use of your advice.
Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister,
Of differences, which I best thought it fit 1065
To answer from our home. The several messengers
From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend,
Lay comforts to your bosom, and bestow
Your needful counsel to our business,
Which craves the instant use. 1070 . I serve you, madam.
Your Graces are right welcome.

Exeunt. Flourish.

Act II, Scene 2

Before Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter Kent and [Oswald the] Steward, severally. . Good dawning to thee, friend. Art of this house? 1075 . Ay. . Where may we set our horses? . I' th' mire. . Prithee, if thou lov'st me, tell me. . I love thee not. 1080 . Why then, I care not for thee. . If I had thee in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make thee care for
me. . Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not. . Fellow, I know thee. 1085 . What dost thou know me for? . A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud,
shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy,
worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver'd, action-taking, whoreson,
glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; 1090
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of
good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave,
beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch;
one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deny the
least syllable of thy addition. 1095 . Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one
that's neither known of thee nor knows thee! . What a brazen-fac'd varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me!
Is it two days ago since I beat thee and tripp'd up thy heels
before the King? Draw, you rogue! for, though 1100
it be night, yet the moon shines. I'll make a sop o' th'
moonshine o' you. Draw, you whoreson cullionly barbermonger!
draw! . Away! I have nothing to do with thee. . Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against the King, and 1105
take Vanity the puppet's part against the royalty of her father.
Draw, you rogue, or I'll so carbonado your shanks! Draw, you
rascal! Come your ways! . Help, ho! murther! help! . Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat slave! 1110
Strike! . Help, ho! murther! murther!

Enter Edmund, with his rapier drawn, Gloucester, Cornwall, Regan, Servants. . How now? What's the matter? Parts . . With you, goodman boy, an you please! Come, I'll flesh ye! 1115
Come on, young master! . Weapons? arms? What's the matter here? . Keep peace, upon your lives!
He dies that strikes again. What is the matter? . The messengers from our sister and the King 1120 . What is your difference? Speak. . I am scarce in breath, my lord. . No marvel, you have so bestirr'd your valour. You cowardly
rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee. . Thou art a strange fellow. A tailor make a man? 1125 . Ay, a tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter could not have
made him so ill, though he had been but two hours at the trade. . Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? . This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spar'd
At suit of his grey beard- 1130 . Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if
you'll give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into
mortar and daub the walls of a jakes with him. 'Spare my grey
beard,' you wagtail? . Peace, sirrah! 1135
You beastly knave, know you no reverence? . Yes, sir, but anger hath a privilege. . Why art thou angry? . That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, 1140
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain
Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion
That in the natures of their lords rebel,
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks 1145
With every gale and vary of their masters,
Knowing naught (like dogs) but following.
A plague upon your epileptic visage!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, an I had you upon Sarum Plain, 1150
I'ld drive ye cackling home to Camelot. . What, art thou mad, old fellow? . How fell you out? Say that. . No contraries hold more antipathy
Than I and such a knave. 1155 . Why dost thou call him knave? What is his fault? . His countenance likes me not. . No more perchance does mine, or his, or hers. . Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain.
I have seen better faces in my time 1160
Than stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant. . This is some fellow
Who, having been prais'd for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb 1165
Quite from his nature. He cannot flatter, he!
An honest mind and plain- he must speak truth!
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain.
These kind of knaves I know which in this plainness
Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends 1170
Than twenty silly-ducking observants
That stretch their duties nicely. . Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
Under th' allowance of your great aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire 1175
On flickering Phoebus' front- . What mean'st by this? . To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I
know, sir, I am no flatterer. He that beguil'd you in a plain
accent was a plain knave, which, for my part, I will not be, 1180
though I should win your displeasure to entreat me to't. . What was th' offence you gave him? . I never gave him any.
It pleas'd the King his master very late
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; 1185
When he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure,
Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd
And put upon him such a deal of man
That worthied him, got praises of the King
For him attempting who was self-subdu'd; 1190
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again. . None of these rogues and cowards
But Ajax is their fool. . Fetch forth the stocks! 1195
You stubborn ancient knave, you reverent braggart,
We'll teach you- . Sir, I am too old to learn.
Call not your stocks for me. I serve the King;
On whose employment I was sent to you. 1200
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking his messenger. . Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour,
There shall he sit till noon. 1205 . Till noon? Till night, my lord, and all night too! . Why, madam, if I were your father's dog,
You should not use me so. . Sir, being his knave, I will. . This is a fellow of the selfsame colour 1210
Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks!

Stocks brought out. . Let me beseech your Grace not to do so.
His fault is much, and the good King his master
Will check him for't. Your purpos'd low correction 1215
Is such as basest and contemn'dest wretches
For pilf'rings and most common trespasses
Are punish'd with. The King must take it ill
That he, so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrain'd. 1220 . I'll answer that. . My sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her gentleman abus'd, assaulted,
For following her affairs. Put in his legs.-
1225
Come, my good lord, away.

Exeunt [all but Gloucester and Kent]. . I am sorry for thee, friend. 'Tis the Duke's pleasure,
Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd. I'll entreat for thee. 1230 . Pray do not, sir. I have watch'd and travell'd hard.
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle.
A good man's fortune may grow out at heels.
Give you good morrow! . The Duke 's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. Exit. 1235 . Good King, that must approve the common saw,
Thou out of heaven's benediction com'st
To the warm sun!
Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may 1240
Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
But misery. I know 'tis from Cordelia,
Who hath most fortunately been inform'd
Of my obscured course- and 'shall find time
From this enormous state, seeking to give 1245
Losses their remedies'- All weary and o'erwatch'd,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night; smile once more, turn thy wheel.

Sleeps.

Act II, Scene 3

The open country.

Enter Edgar. . I heard myself proclaim'd,
And by the happy hollow of a tree
Escap'd the hunt. No port is free, no place
That guard and most unusual vigilance 1255
Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may scape,
I will preserve myself; and am bethought
To take the basest and most poorest shape
That ever penury, in contempt of man,
Brought near to beast. My face I'll grime with filth, 1260
Blanket my loins, elf all my hair in knots,
And with presented nakedness outface
The winds and persecutions of the sky.
The country gives me proof and precedent
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, 1265
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms
Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible object, from low farms,
Poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills,
Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, 1270
Enforce their charity. 'Poor Turlygod! poor Tom!'
That's something yet! Edgar I nothing am. Exit.

Act II, Scene 4

Before Gloucester’s Castle; Kent in the stocks.

Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman. . 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
And not send back my messenger. 1275 . As I learn'd,
The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove. . Hail to thee, noble master! . Ha! 1280
Mak'st thou this shame thy pastime? . No, my lord. . Ha, ha! look! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the
head, dogs and bears by th' neck, monkeys by th' loins, and men
by th' legs. When a man's over-lusty at legs, then he wears 1285
wooden nether-stocks. . What's he that hath so much thy place mistook
To set thee here? . It is both he and she-
Your son and daughter. 1290 . No. . Yes. . No, I say. . I say yea. . No, no, they would not! 1295 . Yes, they have. . By Jupiter, I swear no! . By Juno, I swear ay! . They durst not do't;
They would not, could not do't. 'Tis worse than murther 1300
To do upon respect such violent outrage.
Resolve me with all modest haste which way
Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage,
Coming from us. . My lord, when at their home 1305
I did commend your Highness' letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress salutations; 1310
Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read; on whose contents,
They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse,
Commanded me to follow and attend
The leisure of their answer, gave me cold looks, 1315
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome I perceiv'd had poison'd mine-
Being the very fellow which of late
Display'd so saucily against your Highness-
Having more man than wit about me, drew. 1320
He rais'd the house with loud and coward cries.
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers. . Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags 1325
Do make their children blind;
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to th' poor. 1330
But for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy
daughters as thou canst tell in a year. . O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!
Hysterica passio! Down, thou climbing sorrow!
Thy element's below! Where is this daughter? 1335 . With the Earl, sir, here within. . Follow me not;
Stay here. Exit. . Made you no more offence but what you speak of? . None. 1340
How chance the King comes with so small a number? . An thou hadst been set i' th' stocks for that question,
thou'dst well deserv'd it. . Why, fool? . We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no 1345
labouring i' th' winter. All that follow their noses are led by
their eyes but blind men, and there's not a nose among twenty
but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great
wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following
it; but the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after. 1350
When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again. I
would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.
That sir which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack when it begins to rain 1355
And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly.
The knave turns fool that runs away;
The fool no knave, perdy. 1360 . Where learn'd you this, fool? . Not i' th' stocks, fool.
Enter Lear and Gloucester . Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?
They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches- 1365
The images of revolt and flying off!
Fetch me a better answer. . My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the Duke,
How unremovable and fix'd he is 1370
In his own course. . Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!
Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,
I'ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. . Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. 1375 . Inform'd them? Dost thou understand me, man? . Ay, my good lord. . The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear father
Would with his daughter speak, commands her service.
Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood! 1380
Fiery? the fiery Duke? Tell the hot Duke that-
No, but not yet! May be he is not well.
Infirmity doth still neglect all office
Whereto our health is bound. We are not ourselves
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind 1385
To suffer with the body. I'll forbear;
And am fallen out with my more headier will,
To take the indispos'd and sickly fit
For the sound man.- Death on my state! Wherefore
Should he sit here? This act persuades me 1390
That this remotion of the Duke and her
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth.
Go tell the Duke and 's wife I'ld speak with them-
Now, presently. Bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum 1395
Till it cry sleep to death. . I would have all well betwixt you. Exit. . O me, my heart, my rising heart! But down! . Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she
put 'em i' th' paste alive. She knapp'd 'em o' th' coxcombs with 1400
a stick and cried 'Down, wantons, down!' 'Twas her brother that,
in pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, Servants. . Good morrow to you both. . Hail to your Grace! 1405

Kent here set at liberty. . I am glad to see your Highness. . Regan, I think you are; I know what reason
I have to think so. If thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, 1410
Sepulchring an adultress. O, are you free?
Some other time for that.- Beloved Regan,
Thy sister's naught. O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here!
1415
I can scarce speak to thee. Thou'lt not believe
With how deprav'd a quality- O Regan! . I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope
You less know how to value her desert
Than she to scant her duty. 1420 . Say, how is that? . I cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance
She have restrain'd the riots of your followers,
'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, 1425
As clears her from all blame. . My curses on her! . O, sir, you are old!
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine. You should be rul'd, and led 1430
By some discretion that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you
That to our sister you do make return;
Say you have wrong'd her, sir. . Ask her forgiveness? 1435
Do you but mark how this becomes the house:
'Dear daughter, I confess that I am old.
Age is unnecessary. On my knees I beg
That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.' . Good sir, no more! These are unsightly tricks. 1440
Return you to my sister. . Never, Regan!
She hath abated me of half my train;
Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. 1445
All the stor'd vengeances of heaven fall
On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness! . Fie, sir, fie! . You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames 1450
Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the pow'rful sun,
To fall and blast her pride! . O the blest gods! so will you wish on me
When the rash mood is on. 1455 . No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse.
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
Thee o'er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce; but thine
Do comfort, and not burn. 'Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, 1460
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in. Thou better know'st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude. 1465
Thy half o' th' kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow'd. . Good sir, to th' purpose.

Tucket within. . Who put my man i' th' stocks? 1470 . What trumpet's that? . I know't- my sister's. This approves her letter,
That she would soon be here.
Steward.]
Is your lady come? 1475 . This is a slave, whose easy-borrowed pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.
Out, varlet, from my sight! . What means your Grace?

Enter Goneril. . Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope
Thou didst not know on't.- Who comes here? O heavens!
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway
Allow obedience- if yourselves are old,
Make it your cause! Send down, and take my part! 1485
Art not asham'd to look upon this beard?-
O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? . Why not by th' hand, sir? How have I offended?
All's not offence that indiscretion finds
And dotage terms so. 1490 . O sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold? How came my man i' th' stocks? . I set him there, sir; but his own disorders
Deserv'd much less advancement. . You? Did you? 1495 . I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me.
I am now from home, and out of that provision 1500
Which shall be needful for your entertainment. . Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
To wage against the enmity o' th' air,
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl- 1505
Necessity's sharp pinch! Return with her?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg
To keep base life afoot. Return with her? 1510
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom. . At your choice, sir. . I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad.
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell. 1515
We'll no more meet, no more see one another.
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;
Or rather a disease that's in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil,
A plague sore, an embossed carbuncle 1520
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee.
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it.
I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoot
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove.
Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure; 1525
I can be patient, I can stay with Regan,
I and my hundred knights. . Not altogether so.
I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; 1530
For those that mingle reason with your passion
Must be content to think you old, and so-
But she knows what she does. . Is this well spoken? . I dare avouch it, sir. What, fifty followers? 1535
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger
Speak 'gainst so great a number? How in one house
Should many people, under two commands,
Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible. 1540 . Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine? . Why not, my lord? If then they chanc'd to slack ye,
We could control them. If you will come to me
(For now I spy a danger), I entreat you 1545
To bring but five-and-twenty. To no more
Will I give place or notice. . I gave you all- . And in good time you gave it! . Made you my guardians, my depositaries; 1550
But kept a reservation to be followed
With such a number. What, must I come to you
With five-and-twenty, Regan? Said you so? . And speak't again my lord. No more with me. . Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd 1555
When others are more wicked; not being the worst
Stands in some rank of praise. I'll go with thee.
Thy fifty yet doth double five-and-twenty,
And thou art twice her love. . Hear, me, my lord. 1560
What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five,
To follow in a house where twice so many
Have a command to tend you? . What need one? . O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars 1565
Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady:
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st 1570
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need-
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both.
If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts 1575
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
And let not women's weapons, water drops,
Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags!
I will have such revenges on you both 1580
That all the world shall- I will do such things-
What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth! You think I'll weep.
No, I'll not weep.
I have full cause of weeping, but this heart 1585
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws
Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad!

Exeunt Lear, Gloucester, Kent, and Fool. Storm and tempest. . Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm. . This house is little; the old man and 's people 1590
Cannot be well bestow'd. . 'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest
And must needs taste his folly. . For his particular, I'll receive him gladly,
But not one follower. 1595 . So am I purpos'd.
Where is my Lord of Gloucester? . Followed the old man forth.

He is return'd. 1600 . The King is in high rage. . Whither is he going? . He calls to horse, but will I know not whither. . 'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself. . My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. 1605 . Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds
Do sorely ruffle. For many miles about
There's scarce a bush. . O, sir, to wilful men
The injuries that they themselves procure 1610
Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors.
He is attended with a desperate train,
And what they may incense him to, being apt
To have his ear abus'd, wisdom bids fear. . Shut up your doors, my lord: 'tis a wild night. 1615
My Regan counsels well. Come out o' th' storm.

Act III, Scene 1

A heath. Storm still.

Enter Kent and a Gentleman at several doors. . Who's there, besides foul weather? . One minded like the weather, most unquietly. . I know you. Where's the King? 1620 . Contending with the fretful elements;
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,
That things might change or cease; tears his white hair,
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 1625
Catch in their fury and make nothing of;
Strives in his little world of man to outscorn
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 1630
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will take all. . But who is with him? . None but the fool, who labours to outjest
His heart-struck injuries. 1635 . Sir, I do know you,
And dare upon the warrant of my note
Commend a dear thing to you. There is division
(Although as yet the face of it be cover'd
With mutual cunning) 'twixt Albany and Cornwall; 1640
Who have (as who have not, that their great stars
Thron'd and set high?) servants, who seem no less,
Which are to France the spies and speculations
Intelligent of our state. What hath been seen,
Either in snuffs and packings of the Dukes, 1645
Or the hard rein which both of them have borne
Against the old kind King, or something deeper,
Whereof, perchance, these are but furnishings-
But, true it is, from France there comes a power
Into this scattered kingdom, who already, 1650
Wise in our negligence, have secret feet
In some of our best ports and are at point
To show their open banner. Now to you:
If on my credit you dare build so far
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find 1655
Some that will thank you, making just report
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow
The King hath cause to plain.
I am a gentleman of blood and breeding,
And from some knowledge and assurance offer 1660
This office to you. . I will talk further with you. . No, do not.
For confirmation that I am much more
Than my out-wall, open this purse and take 1665
What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia
(As fear not but you shall), show her this ring,
And she will tell you who your fellow is
That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm!
I will go seek the King. 1670 . Give me your hand. Have you no more to say? . Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet:
That, when we have found the King (in which your pain
That way, I'll this), he that first lights on him
Holla the other. 1675

Exeunt [severally].

Act III, Scene 2

Another part of the heath. Storm still.

Enter Lear and Fool. . Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! 1680
You sulph'rous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' th' world,
Crack Nature's moulds, all germains spill at once, 1685
That makes ingrateful man! . O nuncle, court holy water in a dry house is better than this
rain water out o' door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters
blessing! Here's a night pities nether wise men nor fools. . Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! 1690
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters.
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness.
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no subscription. Then let fall
Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave, 1695
A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man.
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That will with two pernicious daughters join
Your high-engender'd battles 'gainst a head
So old and white as this! O! O! 'tis foul! 1700 . He that has a house to put 's head in has a good head-piece.
The codpiece that will house
Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse:
So beggars marry many. 1705
The man that makes his toe
What he his heart should make
Shall of a corn cry woe,
And turn his sleep to wake.
For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a 1710
glass.

Enter Kent. . No, I will be the pattern of all patience;
I will say nothing. . Who's there? 1715 . Marry, here's grace and a codpiece; that's a wise man and a
fool. . Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love night
Love not such nights as these. The wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark 1720
And make them keep their caves. Since I was man,
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard. Man's nature cannot carry
Th' affliction nor the fear. 1725 . Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes
Unwhipp'd of justice. Hide thee, thou bloody hand; 1730
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man of virtue
That art incestuous. Caitiff, in pieces shake
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practis'd on man's life. Close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry 1735
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man
More sinn'd against than sinning. . Alack, bareheaded?
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest. 1740
Repose you there, whilst I to this hard house
(More harder than the stones whereof 'tis rais'd,
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Denied me to come in) return, and force
Their scanted courtesy. 1745 . My wits begin to turn.
Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold?
I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious. Come, your hovel. 1750
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
That's sorry yet for thee. .
He that has and a little tiny wit-
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain- 1755
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
For the rain it raineth every day. . True, my good boy. Come, bring us to this hovel.

Exeunt [Lear and Kent]. . This is a brave night to cool a courtesan. I'll speak a 1760
prophecy ere I go:
When priests are more in word than matter;
When brewers mar their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors' tutors,
No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors; 1765
When every case in law is right,
No squire in debt nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues,
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i' th' field, 1770
And bawds and whores do churches build:
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion.
Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That going shall be us'd with feet. 1775
This prophecy Merlin shall make, for I live before his time. Exit.

Act III, Scene 3

Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter Gloucester and Edmund. . Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing! When
I desir'd their leave that I might pity him, they took from me
the use of mine own house, charg'd me on pain of perpetual 1780
displeasure neither to speak of him, entreat for him, nor any
way sustain him. . Most savage and unnatural! . Go to; say you nothing. There is division betwixt the Dukes,
and a worse matter than that. I have received a letter this 1785
night- 'tis dangerous to be spoken- I have lock'd the letter in
my closet. These injuries the King now bears will be revenged
home; there's part of a power already footed; we must incline to
the King. I will seek him and privily relieve him. Go you and
maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him 1790
perceived. If he ask for me, I am ill and gone to bed. Though I
die for't, as no less is threat'ned me, the King my old master
must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund.
Pray you be careful. Exit. . This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the Duke 1795
Instantly know, and of that letter too.
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
That which my father loses- no less than all.
The younger rises when the old doth fall. Exit.

Act III, Scene 4

The heath. Before a hovel. Storm still.

Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. . Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter.
The tyranny of the open night 's too rough
For nature to endure. . Let me alone. . Good my lord, enter here. 1805 . Wilt break my heart? . I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. . Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin. So 'tis to thee;
But where the greater malady is fix'd, 1810
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou'dst meet the bear i' th' mouth. When the mind's free,
The body's delicate. The tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else 1815
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to't? But I will punish home!
No, I will weep no more. In such a night
To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure. 1820
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all!
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that!
No more of that. . Good my lord, enter here. 1825 . Prithee go in thyself; seek thine own ease.
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in.
In, boy; go first.- You houseless poverty-
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. 1830
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en 1835
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them
And show the heavens more just. . Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom! 1840

Enter Fool [from the hovel]. . Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit. Help me, help me! . Give me thy hand. Who's there? . A spirit, a spirit! He says his name's poor Tom. . What art thou that dost grumble there i' th' straw? 1845
Come forth.

Enter Edgar [disguised as a madman]. . Away! the foul fiend follows me! Through the sharp hawthorn
blows the cold wind. Humh! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. . Hast thou given all to thy two daughters, and art thou come 1850
to this? . Who gives anything to poor Tom? whom the foul fiend hath led
through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, o'er
bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow and
halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his porridge, made him proud 1855
of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse over four-inch'd
bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five
wits! Tom 's acold. O, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from
whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity,
whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now- and there- 1860
and there again- and there!

Storm still. . What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give 'em all? . Nay, he reserv'd a blanket, else we had been all sham'd. 1865 . Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters! . He hath no daughters, sir. . Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd nature
To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. 1870
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! 'Twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters. . Pillicock sat on Pillicock's Hill. 'Allow, 'allow, loo, loo! 1875 . This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. . Take heed o' th' foul fiend; obey thy parents: keep thy word
justly; swear not; commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not
thy sweet heart on proud array. Tom 's acold. . What hast thou been? 1880 . A servingman, proud in heart and mind; that curl'd my hair,
wore gloves in my cap; serv'd the lust of my mistress' heart and
did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake
words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one that
slept in the contriving of lust, and wak'd to do it. Wine lov'd 1885
I deeply, dice dearly; and in woman out-paramour'd the Turk.
False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox
in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray
thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy foot out of brothel, thy hand 1890
out of placket, thy pen from lender's book, and defy the foul
fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind; says
suum, mun, hey, no, nonny. Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let
him trot by.

Storm still. . Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy
uncover'd body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than
this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast
no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! Here's three
on's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself; 1900
unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked
animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come, unbutton
here.

[Tears at his clothes.] . Prithee, nuncle, be contented! 'Tis a naughty night to swim 1905
in. Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher's
heart- a small spark, all the rest on's body cold. Look, here
comes a walking fire.

Enter Gloucester with a torch. . This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet. He begins at curfew, 1910
and walks till the first cock. He gives the web and the pin,
squints the eye, and makes the harelip; mildews the white wheat,
and hurts the poor creature of earth.
Saint Withold footed thrice the 'old;
He met the nightmare, and her nine fold; 1915
Bid her alight
And her troth plight,
And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee! . How fares your Grace? . What's he? 1920 . Who's there? What is't you seek? . What are you there? Your names? . Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole,
the wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when
the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets, swallows the 1925
old rat and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the
standing pool; who is whipp'd from tithing to tithing, and
stock-punish'd and imprison'd; who hath had three suits to his
back, six shirts to his body, horse to ride, and weapons to
wear; 1930
But mice and rats, and such small deer,
Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin! peace, thou fiend! . What, hath your Grace no better company? . The prince of darkness is a gentleman! 1935
Modo he's call'd, and Mahu. . Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, my lord,
That it doth hate what gets it. . Poor Tom 's acold. . Go in with me. My duty cannot suffer 1940
T' obey in all your daughters' hard commands.
Though their injunction be to bar my doors
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
Yet have I ventur'd to come seek you out
And bring you where both fire and food is ready. 1945 . First let me talk with this philosopher.
What is the cause of thunder? . Good my lord, take his offer; go into th' house. . I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban.
What is your study? 1950 . How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin. . Let me ask you one word in private. . Importune him once more to go, my lord.
His wits begin t' unsettle. . Canst thou blame him? 1955
His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent!
He said it would be thus- poor banish'd man!
Thou say'st the King grows mad: I'll tell thee, friend,
I am almost mad myself. I had a son,
Now outlaw'd from my blood. He sought my life 1960
But lately, very late. I lov'd him, friend-
No father his son dearer. True to tell thee,
The grief hath craz'd my wits. What a night 's this!
I do beseech your Grace- . O, cry you mercy, sir. 1965
Noble philosopher, your company. . Tom's acold. . In, fellow, there, into th' hovel; keep thee warm. . Come, let's in all. . This way, my lord. 1970 . With him!
I will keep still with my philosopher. . Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow. . Take him you on. . Sirrah, come on; go along with us. 1975 . Come, good Athenian. . No words, no words! hush. . Child Rowland to the dark tower came;
His word was still
Fie, foh, and fum! 1980
I smell the blood of a British man.

Exeunt.

Act III, Scene 5

Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter Cornwall and Edmund. . I will have my revenge ere I depart his house. . How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus gives way to 1985
loyalty, something fears me to think of. . I now perceive it was not altogether your brother's evil
disposition made him seek his death; but a provoking merit, set
awork by a reproveable badness in himself. . How malicious is my fortune that I must repent to be just! 1990
This is the letter he spoke of, which approves him an
intelligent party to the advantages of France. O heavens! that
this treason were not- or not I the detector! . Go with me to the Duchess. . If the matter of this paper be certain, you have mighty 1995
business in hand. . True or false, it hath made thee Earl of Gloucester.
Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our
apprehension. . If I find him comforting the King, it will stuff his 2000
suspicion more fully.- I will persever in my course of loyalty,
though the conflict be sore between that and my blood. . I will lay trust upon thee, and thou shalt find a dearer
father in my love.

Exeunt.

Act III, Scene 6

A farmhouse near Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter Gloucester, Lear, Kent, Fool, and Edgar. . Here is better than the open air; take it thankfully. I will
piece out the comfort with what addition I can. I will not be
long from you. . All the power of his wits have given way to his impatience. 2010
The gods reward your kindness!

Exit [Gloucester]. . Frateretto calls me, and tells me Nero is an angler in the
lake of darkness. Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend. . Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a 2015
yeoman. . A king, a king! . No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son; for he's a
mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman before him. . To have a thousand with red burning spits 2020
Come hizzing in upon 'em- . The foul fiend bites my back. . He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse's
health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath. . It shall be done; I will arraign them straight. 2025
Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer.
Thou, sapient sir, sit here. Now, you she-foxes! . Look, where he stands and glares! Want'st thou eyes at trial,
madam?
Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me. 2030 . Her boat hath a leak,
And she must not speak
Why she dares not come over to thee. . The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a nightingale.
Hoppedance cries in Tom's belly for two white herring. Croak 2035
not, black angel; I have no food for thee. . How do you, sir? Stand you not so amaz'd.
Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? . I'll see their trial first. Bring in their evidence.
Thou, robed man of justice, take thy place. 2040
And thou, his yokefellow of equity,
Bench by his side. You are o' th' commission,
Sit you too. . Let us deal justly.
Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? 2045
Thy sheep be in the corn;
And for one blast of thy minikin mouth
Thy sheep shall take no harm.
Purr! the cat is gray. . Arraign her first. 'Tis Goneril. I here take my oath before 2050
this honourable assembly, she kicked the poor King her father. . Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril? . She cannot deny it. . Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool. . And here's another, whose warp'd looks proclaim 2055
What store her heart is made on. Stop her there!
Arms, arms! sword! fire! Corruption in the place!
False justicer, why hast thou let her scape? . Bless thy five wits! . O pity! Sir, where is the patience now 2060
That you so oft have boasted to retain? . My tears begin to take his part so much
They'll mar my counterfeiting. . The little dogs and all,
Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see, they bark at me. 2065 . Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs!
Be thy mouth or black or white,
Tooth that poisons if it bite;
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound or spaniel, brach or lym, 2070
Bobtail tyke or trundle-tail-
Tom will make them weep and wail;
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and fairs and market 2075
towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. . Then let them anatomize Regan. See what breeds about her
heart. Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard
hearts? You, sir- I entertain you for one of my
hundred; only I do not like the fashion of your garments. You'll 2080
say they are Persian attire; but let them be chang'd. . Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile. . Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains.
So, so, so. We'll go to supper i' th' morning. So, so, so. . And I'll go to bed at noon. 2085

Enter Gloucester. . Come hither, friend. Where is the King my master? . Here, sir; but trouble him not; his wits are gone. . Good friend, I prithee take him in thy arms.
I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him. 2090
There is a litter ready; lay him in't
And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet
Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master.
If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life,
With thine, and all that offer to defend him, 2095
Stand in assured loss. Take up, take up!
And follow me, that will to some provision
Give thee quick conduct. . Oppressed nature sleeps.
This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses, 2100
Which, if convenience will not allow,
Stand in hard cure. Come, help to bear thy master.
Thou must not stay behind. . Come, come, away!

Exeunt [all but Edgar]. . When we our betters see bearing our woes,
We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
Who alone suffers suffers most i' th' mind,
Leaving free things and happy shows behind;
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip 2110
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
How light and portable my pain seems now,
When that which makes me bend makes the King bow,
He childed as I fathered! Tom, away!
Mark the high noises, and thyself bewray 2115
When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee,
In thy just proof repeals and reconciles thee.
What will hap more to-night, safe scape the King!
Lurk, lurk.

Act III, Scene 7

Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, [Edmund the] Bastard, and Servants. . Post speedily to my lord your husband, show him
this letter. The army of France is landed.- Seek out the traitor
Gloucester.

[Exeunt some of the Servants.] . Hang him instantly. 2125 . Pluck out his eyes. . Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our sister
company. The revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous
father are not fit for your beholding. Advise the Duke where you
are going, to a most festinate preparation. We are bound to the 2130
like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us.
Farewell, dear sister; farewell, my Lord of Gloucester.
How now? Where's the King? . My Lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence.
Some five or six and thirty of his knights, 2135
Hot questrists after him, met him at gate;
Who, with some other of the lord's dependants,
Are gone with him towards Dover, where they boast
To have well-armed friends. . Get horses for your mistress. 2140 . Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. . Edmund, farewell.
Go seek the traitor Gloucester,
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us.
Though well we may not pass upon his life 2145
Without the form of justice, yet our power
Shall do a court'sy to our wrath, which men
May blame, but not control.
Who's there? the traitor? . Ingrateful fox! 'tis he. 2150 . Bind fast his corky arms. . What mean, your Graces? Good my friends, consider
You are my guests. Do me no foul play, friends. . Bind him, I say.

[Servants bind him.] . Hard, hard. O filthy traitor! . Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none. . To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find-

[Regan plucks his beard.] . By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done 2160
To pluck me by the beard. . So white, and such a traitor! . Naughty lady,
These hairs which thou dost ravish from my chin
Will quicken, and accuse thee. I am your host. 2165
With robber's hands my hospitable favours
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? . Come, sir, what letters had you late from France? . Be simple-answer'd, for we know the truth. . And what confederacy have you with the traitors 2170
Late footed in the kingdom? . To whose hands have you sent the lunatic King?
Speak. . I have a letter guessingly set down,
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart, 2175
And not from one oppos'd. . Cunning. . And false. . Where hast thou sent the King? . To Dover. 2180 . Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charg'd at peril- . Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that. . I am tied to th' stake, and I must stand the course. . Wherefore to Dover, sir? . Because I would not see thy cruel nails 2185
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister
In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs.
The sea, with such a storm as his bare head
In hell-black night endur'd, would have buoy'd up
And quench'd the steeled fires. 2190
Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain.
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time,
Thou shouldst have said, 'Good porter, turn the key.'
All cruels else subscrib'd. But I shall see
The winged vengeance overtake such children. 2195 . See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair.
Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot. . He that will think to live till he be old,
Give me some help!- O cruel! O ye gods! . One side will mock another. Th' other too! 2200 . If you see vengeance- . Hold your hand, my lord!
I have serv'd you ever since I was a child;
But better service have I never done you
Than now to bid you hold. 2205 . How now, you dog? . If you did wear a beard upon your chin,
I'ld shake it on this quarrel. . What do you mean? . My villain! Draw and fight. 2210 . Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger. . Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus?
She takes a sword and runs at him behind. . O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left
To see some mischief on him. O! He dies. 2215 . Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly!
Where is thy lustre now? . All dark and comfortless! Where's my son Edmund?
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature
To quit this horrid act. 2220 . Out, treacherous villain!
Thou call'st on him that hates thee. It was he
That made the overture of thy treasons to us;
Who is too good to pity thee. . O my follies! Then Edgar was abus'd. 2225
Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him! . Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell
His way to Dover.
How is't, my lord? How look you? . I have receiv'd a hurt. Follow me, lady. 2230
Turn out that eyeless villain. Throw this slave
Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace.
Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm.

Exit [Cornwall, led by Regan]. . I'll never care what wickedness I do, 2235
If this man come to good. . If she live long,
And in the end meet the old course of death,
Women will all turn monsters. . Let's follow the old Earl, and get the bedlam 2240
To lead him where he would. His roguish madness
Allows itself to anything. . Go thou. I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs
To apply to his bleeding face. Now heaven help him!

Exeunt.

Act IV, Scene 1

The heath.

Enter Edgar. . Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd,
Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst,
The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune,
Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear. 2250
The lamentable change is from the best;
The worst returns to laughter. Welcome then,
Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace!
The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst
Owes nothing to thy blasts. 2255

But who comes here?
My father, poorly led? World, world, O world!
But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee,
Life would not yield to age. 2260 . O my good lord,
I have been your tenant, and your father's tenant,
These fourscore years. . Away, get thee away! Good friend, be gone.
Thy comforts can do me no good at all; 2265
Thee they may hurt. . You cannot see your way. . I have no way, and therefore want no eyes;
I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen
Our means secure us, and our mere defects 2270
Prove our commodities. Ah dear son Edgar,
The food of thy abused father's wrath!
Might I but live to see thee in my touch,
I'ld say I had eyes again! . How now? Who's there? 2275 . O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at the worst'?
I am worse than e'er I was. . 'Tis poor mad Tom. . And worse I may be yet. The worst is not
So long as we can say 'This is the worst.' 2280 . Fellow, where goest? . Is it a beggarman? . Madman and beggar too. . He has some reason, else he could not beg.
I' th' last night's storm I such a fellow saw, 2285
Which made me think a man a worm. My son
Came then into my mind, and yet my mind
Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more since.
As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods.
They kill us for their sport. 2290 . How should this be?
Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow,
Ang'ring itself and others.- Bless thee, master! . Is that the naked fellow? . Ay, my lord. 2295 . Then prithee get thee gone. If for my sake
Thou wilt o'ertake us hence a mile or twain
I' th' way toward Dover, do it for ancient love;
And bring some covering for this naked soul,
Who I'll entreat to lead me. 2300 . Alack, sir, he is mad! . 'Tis the time's plague when madmen lead the blind.
Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure.
Above the rest, be gone. . I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have, 2305
Come on't what will. Exit. . Sirrah naked fellow- . Poor Tom's acold. I cannot daub it further. . Come hither, fellow. . And yet I must.- Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed. 2310 . Know'st thou the way to Dover? . Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor Tom hath been
scar'd out of his good wits. Bless thee, good man's son, from
the foul fiend! Five fiends have been in poor Tom at once: of
lust, as Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of 2315
stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of mopping and
mowing, who since possesses chambermaids and waiting women. So,
bless thee, master! . Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues
Have humbled to all strokes. That I am wretched 2320
Makes thee the happier. Heavens, deal so still!
Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man,
That slaves your ordinance, that will not see
Because he does not feel, feel your pow'r quickly;
So distribution should undo excess, 2325
And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? . Ay, master. . There is a cliff, whose high and bending head
Looks fearfully in the confined deep.
Bring me but to the very brim of it, 2330
And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear
With something rich about me. From that place
I shall no leading need. . Give me thy arm.
Poor Tom shall lead thee. 2335

Exeunt.

Act IV, Scene 2

Before the Duke of Albany’s Palace.

Enter Goneril and [Edmund the] Bastard. . Welcome, my lord. I marvel our mild husband
Not met us on the way.
Now, where's your master? 2340 . Madam, within, but never man so chang'd.
I told him of the army that was landed:
He smil'd at it. I told him you were coming:
His answer was, 'The worse.' Of Gloucester's treachery
And of the loyal service of his son 2345
When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot
And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out.
What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive. . Then shall you go no further. 2350
It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
That dares not undertake. He'll not feel wrongs
Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way
May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother.
Hasten his musters and conduct his pow'rs. 2355
I must change arms at home and give the distaff
Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us. Ere long you are like to hear
(If you dare venture in your own behalf)
A mistress's command. Wear this. 2360
Spare speech.
Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air.
Conceive, and fare thee well. . Yours in the ranks of death! Exit. 2365 . My most dear Gloucester!
O, the difference of man and man!
To thee a woman's services are due;
My fool usurps my body. . Madam, here comes my lord. Exit. 2370

Enter Albany. . I have been worth the whistle. . O Goneril,
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face! I fear your disposition. 2375
That nature which contemns it origin
Cannot be bordered certain in itself.
She that herself will sliver and disbranch
From her material sap, perforce must wither
And come to deadly use. 2380 . No more! The text is foolish. . Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile;
Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd?
A father, and a gracious aged man, 2385
Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick,
Most barbarous, most degenerate, have you madded.
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
A man, a prince, by him so benefited!
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits 2390
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
It will come,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep. . Milk-liver'd man! 2395
That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st
Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum? 2400
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land,
With plumed helm thy state begins to threat,
Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest
'Alack, why does he so?' . See thyself, devil! 2405
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid as in woman. . O vain fool! . Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame!
Bemonster not thy feature! Were't my fitness 2410
To let these hands obey my blood,
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones. Howe'er thou art a fiend,
A woman's shape doth shield thee. . Marry, your manhood mew! 2415

Enter a Gentleman. . What news? . O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall 's dead,
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The other eye of Gloucester. 2420 . Gloucester's eyes? . A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse,
Oppos'd against the act, bending his sword
To his great master; who, thereat enrag'd,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead; 2425
But not without that harmful stroke which since
Hath pluck'd him after. . This shows you are above,
You justicers, that these our nether crimes
So speedily can venge! But O poor Gloucester! 2430
Lost he his other eye? . Both, both, my lord.
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer.
'Tis from your sister. . One way I like this well; 2435
But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life. Another way
The news is not so tart.- I'll read, and answer. Exit. . Where was his son when they did take his eyes? 2440 . Come with my lady hither. . He is not here. . No, my good lord; I met him back again. . Knows he the wickedness? . Ay, my good lord. 'Twas he inform'd against him, 2445
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
Might have the freer course. . Gloucester, I live
To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the King,
And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend. 2450
Tell me what more thou know'st.

Exeunt.

Act IV, Scene 3

The French camp near Dover.

Enter Kent and a Gentleman. . Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back know you the
reason? 2455 . Something he left imperfect in the state, which since his
coming forth is thought of, which imports to the kingdom so much
fear and danger that his personal return was most required and
necessary. . Who hath he left behind him general? 2460 . The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far. . Did your letters pierce the Queen to any demonstration of
grief? . Ay, sir. She took them, read them in my presence,
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down 2465
Her delicate cheek. It seem'd she was a queen
Over her passion, who, most rebel-like,
Sought to be king o'er her. . O, then it mov'd her? . Not to a rage. Patience and sorrow strove 2470
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen
Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears
Were like, a better way. Those happy smilets
That play'd on her ripe lip seem'd not to know
What guests were in her eyes, which parted thence 2475
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief,
Sorrow would be a rarity most belov'd,
If all could so become it. . Made she no verbal question? . Faith, once or twice she heav'd the name of father 2480
Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart;
Cried 'Sisters, sisters! Shame of ladies! Sisters!
Kent! father! sisters! What, i' th' storm? i' th' night?
Let pity not be believ'd!' There she shook
The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 2485
And clamour moisten'd. Then away she started
To deal with grief alone. . It is the stars,
The stars above us, govern our conditions;
Else one self mate and mate could not beget 2490
Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? . No. . Was this before the King return'd? . No, since. . Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' th' town; 2495
Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers
What we are come about, and by no means
Will yield to see his daughter. . Why, good sir? . A sovereign shame so elbows him; his own unkindness, 2500
That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her
To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights
To his dog-hearted daughters- these things sting
His mind so venomously that burning shame
Detains him from Cordelia. 2505 . Alack, poor gentleman! . Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? . 'Tis so; they are afoot. . Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear
And leave you to attend him. Some dear cause 2510
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile.
When I am known aright, you shall not grieve
Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you go
Along with me. Exeunt.

Act IV, Scene 4

The French camp.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, Cordelia, Doctor, and Soldiers. . Alack, 'tis he! Why, he was met even now
As mad as the vex'd sea, singing aloud,
Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow weeds,
With harlocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo flow'rs,
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow 2520
In our sustaining corn. A century send forth.
Search every acre in the high-grown field
And bring him to our eye. What can man's
wisdom
In the restoring his bereaved sense? 2525
He that helps him take all my outward worth. . There is means, madam.
Our foster nurse of nature is repose,
The which he lacks. That to provoke in him
Are many simples operative, whose power 2530
Will close the eye of anguish. . All blest secrets,
All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth,
Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate
In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him! 2535
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life
That wants the means to lead it.

Enter Messenger. . News, madam.
The British pow'rs are marching hitherward. 2540 . 'Tis known before. Our preparation stands
In expectation of them. O dear father,
It is thy business that I go about.
Therefore great France
My mourning and important tears hath pitied. 2545
No blown ambition doth our arms incite,
But love, dear love, and our ag'd father's right.
Soon may I hear and see him!

Exeunt.

Act IV, Scene 5

Gloucester’s Castle.

Enter Regan and [Oswald the] Steward. . But are my brother's pow'rs set forth? . Ay, madam. . Himself in person there? . Madam, with much ado.
Your sister is the better soldier. 2555 . Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? . No, madam. . What might import my sister's letter to him? . I know not, lady. . Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. 2560
It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out,
To let him live. Where he arrives he moves
All hearts against us. Edmund, I think, is gone,
In pity of his misery, to dispatch
His nighted life; moreover, to descry 2565
The strength o' th' enemy. . I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. . Our troops set forth to-morrow. Stay with us.
The ways are dangerous. . I may not, madam. 2570
My lady charg'd my duty in this business. . Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you
Transport her purposes by word? Belike,
Something- I know not what- I'll love thee much-
Let me unseal the letter. 2575 . Madam, I had rather- . I know your lady does not love her husband;
I am sure of that; and at her late being here
She gave strange eyeliads and most speaking looks
To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom. 2580 . I, madam? . I speak in understanding. Y'are! I know't.
Therefore I do advise you take this note.
My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd,
And more convenient is he for my hand 2585
Than for your lady's. You may gather more.
If you do find him, pray you give him this;
And when your mistress hears thus much from you,
I pray desire her call her wisdom to her.
So farewell. 2590
If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor,
Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. . Would I could meet him, madam! I should show
What party I do follow. . Fare thee well. Exeunt. 2595

Act IV, Scene 6

The country near Dover.

Enter Gloucester, and Edgar [like a Peasant]. . When shall I come to th' top of that same hill? . You do climb up it now. Look how we labour. . Methinks the ground is even. . Horrible steep. 2600
Hark, do you hear the sea? . No, truly. . Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect
By your eyes' anguish. . So may it be indeed. 2605
Methinks thy voice is alter'd, and thou speak'st
In better phrase and matter than thou didst. . Y'are much deceiv'd. In nothing am I chang'd
But in my garments. . Methinks y'are better spoken. 2610 . Come on, sir; here's the place. Stand still. How fearful
And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low!
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
Show scarce so gross as beetles. Halfway down
Hangs one that gathers sampire- dreadful trade! 2615
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen that walk upon the beach
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge 2620
That on th' unnumb'red idle pebble chafes
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong. . Set me where you stand. 2625 . Give me your hand. You are now within a foot
Of th' extreme verge. For all beneath the moon
Would I not leap upright. . Let go my hand.
Here, friend, is another purse; in it a jewel 2630
Well worth a poor man's taking. Fairies and gods
Prosper it with thee! Go thou further off;
Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. . Now fare ye well, good sir. . With all my heart. 2635 . . Why I do trifle thus with his despair
Is done to cure it. . O you mighty gods! He kneels.
This world I do renounce, and, in your sights,
Shake patiently my great affliction off. 2640
If I could bear it longer and not fall
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills,
My snuff and loathed part of nature should
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him!
Now, fellow, fare thee well. 2645
He falls . . Gone, sir, farewell.-
And yet I know not how conceit may rob
The treasury of life when life itself
Yields to the theft. Had he been where he thought, 2650
By this had thought been past.- Alive or dead?
Ho you, sir! friend! Hear you, sir? Speak!-
Thus might he pass indeed. Yet he revives.
What are you, sir? . Away, and let me die. 2655 . Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air,
So many fadom down precipitating,
Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg; but thou dost breathe;
Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound.
Ten masts at each make not the altitude 2660
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell.
Thy life is a miracle. Speak yet again. . But have I fall'n, or no? . From the dread summit of this chalky bourn.
Look up a-height. The shrill-gorg'd lark so far 2665
Cannot be seen or heard. Do but look up. . Alack, I have no eyes!
Is wretchedness depriv'd that benefit
To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort
When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage 2670
And frustrate his proud will. . Give me your arm.
Up- so. How is't? Feel you your legs? You stand. . Too well, too well. . This is above all strangeness. 2675
Upon the crown o' th' cliff what thing was that
Which parted from you? . A poor unfortunate beggar. . As I stood here below, methought his eyes
Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses,Horns whelk'd and wav'd like the enridged sea. 2680
It was some fiend. Therefore, thou happy father,
Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours
Of men's impossibility, have preserv'd thee. . I do remember now. Henceforth I'll bear
Affliction till it do cry out itself 2685
'Enough, enough,' and die. That thing you speak of,
I took it for a man. Often 'twould say
'The fiend, the fiend'- he led me to that place. . Bear free and patient thoughts.
Enter Lear, mad, . 2690
But who comes here?
The safer sense will ne'er accommodate
His master thus. . No, they cannot touch me for coming;
I am the King himself. 2695 . O thou side-piercing sight! . Nature 's above art in that respect. There's your press
money. That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper. Draw me
a clothier's yard. Look, look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece
of toasted cheese will do't. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it 2700
on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well flown, bird! i'
th' clout, i' th' clout! Hewgh! Give the word. . Sweet marjoram. . Pass. . I know that voice. 2705 . Ha! Goneril with a white beard? They flatter'd me like a dog,
and told me I had white hairs in my beard ere the black ones
were there. To say 'ay' and 'no' to everything I said! 'Ay' and
'no' too was no good divinity. When the rain came to wet me
once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would 2710
not peace at my bidding; there I found 'em, there I smelt 'em
out. Go to, they are not men o' their words! They told me I was
everything. 'Tis a lie- I am not ague-proof. . The trick of that voice I do well remember.
Is't not the King? 2715 . Ay, every inch a king!
When I do stare, see how the subject quakes.
I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause?
Adultery?
Thou shalt not die. Die for adultery? No. 2720
The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly
Does lecher in my sight.
Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son
Was kinder to his father than my daughters
Got 'tween the lawful sheets. 2725
To't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers.
Behold yond simp'ring dame,
Whose face between her forks presageth snow,
That minces virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name. 2730
The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to't
With a more riotous appetite.
Down from the waist they are Centaurs,
Though women all above.
But to the girdle do the gods inherit, 2735
Beneath is all the fiend's.
There's hell, there's darkness, there's the sulphurous pit;
burning, scalding, stench, consumption. Fie, fie, fie! pah, pah!
Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my
imagination. There's money for thee. 2740 . O, let me kiss that hand! . Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. . O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world
Shall so wear out to naught. Dost thou know me? . I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny at me? 2745
No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not love. Read thou this
challenge; mark but the penning of it. . Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. . I would not take this from report. It is,
And my heart breaks at it. 2750 . Read. . What, with the case of eyes? . O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, nor no
money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse
in a light. Yet you see how this world goes. 2755 . I see it feelingly. . What, art mad? A man may see how the world goes with no eyes.
Look with thine ears. See how yond justice rails upon yond
simple thief. Hark in thine ear. Change places and, handy-dandy,
which is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen a 2760
farmer's dog bark at a beggar? . Ay, sir. . And the creature run from the cur? There thou mightst behold
the great image of authority: a dog's obeyed in office.
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! 2765
Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back.
Thou hotly lusts to use her in that kind
For which thou whip'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener.
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, 2770
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks;
Arm it in rags, a pygmy's straw does pierce it.
None does offend, none- I say none! I'll able 'em.
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power
To seal th' accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes 2775
And, like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now!
Pull off my boots. Harder, harder! So. . O, matter and impertinency mix'd!
Reason, in madness! 2780 . If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester.
Thou must be patient. We came crying hither;
Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air
We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee. Mark. 2785 . Alack, alack the day! . When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of fools. This' a good block.
It were a delicate stratagem to shoe
A troop of horse with felt. I'll put't in proof, 2790
And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law,
Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

Enter a Gentleman [with Attendants]. . O, here he is! Lay hand upon him.- Sir,
Your most dear daughter- 2795 . No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even
The natural fool of fortune. Use me well;
You shall have ransom. Let me have a surgeon;
I am cut to th' brains. . You shall have anything. 2800 . No seconds? All myself?
Why, this would make a man a man of salt,
To use his eyes for garden waterpots,
Ay, and laying autumn's dust. . Good sir- 2805 . I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What!
I will be jovial. Come, come, I am a king;
My masters, know you that? . You are a royal one, and we obey you. . Then there's life in't. Nay, an you get it, you shall get it 2810
by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa!

Exit running. [Attendants follow.] . A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch,
Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter
Who redeems nature from the general curse 2815
Which twain have brought her to. . Hail, gentle sir. . Sir, speed you. What's your will? . Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? . Most sure and vulgar. Every one hears that 2820
Which can distinguish sound. . But, by your favour,
How near's the other army? . Near and on speedy foot. The main descry
Stands on the hourly thought. 2825 . I thank you sir. That's all. . Though that the Queen on special cause is here,
Her army is mov'd on. . I thank you, sir

Exit [Gentleman]. . You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me;
Let not my worser spirit tempt me again
To die before you please! . Well pray you, father. . Now, good sir, what are you? 2835 . A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows,
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows,
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand;
I'll lead you to some biding. . Hearty thanks. 2840
The bounty and the benison of heaven
To boot, and boot!

Enter [Oswald the] Steward. . A proclaim'd prize! Most happy!
That eyeless head of thine was first fram'd flesh 2845
To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor,
Briefly thyself remember. The sword is out
That must destroy thee. . Now let thy friendly hand
Put strength enough to't. 2850

[Edgar interposes.] . Wherefore, bold peasant,
Dar'st thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence!
Lest that th' infection of his fortune take
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. 2855 . Chill not let go, zir, without vurther 'cagion. . Let go, slave, or thou diest! . Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor voke pass. An chud
ha' bin zwagger'd out of my life, 'twould not ha' bin zo long as
'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near th' old man. Keep out, 2860
che vore ye, or Ise try whether your costard or my ballow be the
harder. Chill be plain with you. . Out, dunghill!

They fight. . Chill pick your teeth, zir. Come! No matter vor your foins. 2865

[Oswald falls.] . Slave, thou hast slain me. Villain, take my purse.
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body,
And give the letters which thou find'st about me
To Edmund Earl of Gloucester. Seek him out 2870
Upon the British party. O, untimely death! Death!

He dies. . I know thee well. A serviceable villain,
As duteous to the vices of thy mistress
As badness would desire. 2875 . What, is he dead? . Sit you down, father; rest you.
Let's see his pockets; these letters that he speaks of
May be my friends. He's dead. I am only sorry
He had no other deathsman. Let us see. 2880
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not.
To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts;
Their papers, is more lawful. Reads the letter.
'Let our reciprocal vows be rememb'red. You have many
opportunities to cut him off. If your will want not, time and 2885
place will be fruitfully offer'd. There is nothing done, if he
return the conqueror. Then am I the prisoner, and his bed my
jail; from the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply the
place for your labour.
'Your (wife, so I would say) affectionate servant, 'Goneril.' 2890
O indistinguish'd space of woman's will!
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life,
And the exchange my brother! Here in the sands
Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified
Of murtherous lechers; and in the mature time 2895
With this ungracious paper strike the sight
Of the death-practis'd Duke, For him 'tis well
That of thy death and business I can tell. . The King is mad. How stiff is my vile sense,
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling 2900
Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract.
So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs,
And woes by wrong imaginations lose
The knowledge of themselves.

A drum afar off. . Give me your hand.
Far off methinks I hear the beaten drum.
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. Exeunt.

Act IV, Scene 7

A tent in the French camp.

Enter Cordelia, Kent, Doctor, and Gentleman. . O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work 2910
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short
And every measure fail me. . To be acknowledg'd, madam, is o'erpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth;
Nor more nor clipp'd, but so. 2915 . Be better suited.
These weeds are memories of those worser hours.
I prithee put them off. . Pardon, dear madam.
Yet to be known shortens my made intent. 2920
My boon I make it that you know me not
Till time and I think meet. . Then be't so, my good lord. How, does the King? . Madam, sleeps still. . O you kind gods, 2925
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
Th' untun'd and jarring senses, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father! . So please your Majesty
That we may wake the King? He hath slept long. 2930 . Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed
I' th' sway of your own will. Is he array'd?

Enter Lear in a chair carried by Servants. . Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep
We put fresh garments on him. 2935 . Be by, good madam, when we do awake him.
I doubt not of his temperance. . Very well.

Music. . Please you draw near. Louder the music there! 2940 . O my dear father, restoration hang
Thy medicine on my lips, and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made! . Kind and dear princess! 2945 . Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Had challeng'd pity of them. Was this a face
To be oppos'd against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke 2950
Of quick cross lightning? to watch- poor perdu!-
With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog,
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn, 2955
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all.- He wakes. Speak to him. . Madam, do you; 'tis fittest. . How does my royal lord? How fares your Majesty? 2960 . You do me wrong to take me out o' th' grave.
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead. . Sir, do you know me? 2965 . You are a spirit, I know. When did you die? . Still, still, far wide! . He's scarce awake. Let him alone awhile. . Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight,
I am mightily abus'd. I should e'en die with pity, 2970
To see another thus. I know not what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands. Let's see.
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assur'd
Of my condition! . O, look upon me, sir, 2975
And hold your hands in benediction o'er me.
No, sir, you must not kneel. . Pray, do not mock me.
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less; 2980
And, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have 2985
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For (as I am a man) I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia. . And so I am! I am! 2990 . Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray weep not.
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have some cause, they have not. 2995 . No cause, no cause. . Am I in France? . In your own kingdom, sir. . Do not abuse me. . Be comforted, good madam. The great rage 3000
You see is kill'd in him; and yet it is danger
To make him even o'er the time he has lost.
Desire him to go in. Trouble him no more
Till further settling. . Will't please your Highness walk? 3005 . You must bear with me.
Pray you now, forget and forgive. I am old and foolish.

Exeunt. Manent Kent and Gentleman. . Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain? . Most certain, sir. 3010 . Who is conductor of his people? . As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester. . They say Edgar, his banish'd son, is with the Earl of Kent
in Germany. . Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the powers of 3015
the kingdom approach apace. . The arbitrement is like to be bloody.
Fare you well, sir. . My point and period will be throughly wrought,
Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought. Exit. 3020

Act V, Scene 1

The British camp near Dover.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, Edmund, Regan, Gentleman, and Soldiers. . Know of the Duke if his last purpose hold,
Or whether since he is advis'd by aught
To change the course. He's full of alteration
And self-reproving. Bring his constant pleasure. 3025

[Exit an Officer.] . Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. . Tis to be doubted, madam. . Now, sweet lord,
You know the goodness I intend upon you. 3030
Tell me- but truly- but then speak the truth-
Do you not love my sister? . In honour'd love. . But have you never found my brother's way
To the forfended place? 3035 . That thought abuses you. . I am doubtful that you have been conjunct
And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers. . No, by mine honour, madam. . I never shall endure her. Dear my lord, 3040
Be not familiar with her. . Fear me not.
She and the Duke her husband!
Enter, with Drum and Colours, Albany, Goneril, Soldiers. . I had rather lose the battle than that sister 3045
Should loosen him and me. . Our very loving sister, well bemet.
Sir, this I hear: the King is come to his daughter,
With others whom the rigour of our state
Forc'd to cry out. Where I could not be honest, 3050
I never yet was valiant. For this business,
It toucheth us as France invades our land,
Not bolds the King, with others whom, I fear,
Most just and heavy causes make oppose. . Sir, you speak nobly. 3055 . Why is this reason'd? . Combine together 'gainst the enemy;
For these domestic and particular broils
Are not the question here. . Let's then determine 3060
With th' ancient of war on our proceeding. . I shall attend you presently at your tent. . Sister, you'll go with us? . No. . 'Tis most convenient. Pray you go with us. 3065 . O, ho, I know the riddle.- I will go.
enter Edgar . . If e'er your Grace had speech with man so poor,
Hear me one word. . I'll overtake you.- Speak. 3070

Exeunt [all but Albany and Edgar]. . Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.
If you have victory, let the trumpet sound
For him that brought it. Wretched though I seem,
I can produce a champion that will prove 3075
What is avouched there. If you miscarry,
Your business of the world hath so an end,
And machination ceases. Fortune love you! . Stay till I have read the letter. . I was forbid it. 3080
When time shall serve, let but the herald cry,
And I'll appear again. . Why, fare thee well. I will o'erlook thy paper.

Exit [Edgar].

Enter Edmund. . The enemy 's in view; draw up your powers.
Here is the guess of their true strength and forces
By diligent discovery; but your haste
Is now urg'd on you. . We will greet the time. Exit. 3090 . To both these sisters have I sworn my love;
Each jealous of the other, as the stung
Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take?
Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd,
If both remain alive. To take the widow 3095
Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril;
And hardly shall I carry out my side,
Her husband being alive. Now then, we'll use
His countenance for the battle, which being done,
Let her who would be rid of him devise 3100
His speedy taking off. As for the mercy
Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia-
The battle done, and they within our power,
Shall never see his pardon; for my state
Stands on me to defend, not to debate. Exit. 3105

Act V, Scene 2

A field between the two camps. Alarum within.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, the Powers of France over the stage, Cordelia with her Father in her hand, and exeunt. Enter Edgar and Gloucester. . Here, father, take the shadow of this tree
For your good host. Pray that the right may thrive.
If ever I return to you again,
I'll bring you comfort. 3110 . Grace go with you, sir!

Exit [Edgar].

Alarum and retreat within. Enter Edgar, . Away, old man! give me thy hand! away!
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en. 3115
Give me thy hand! come on! . No further, sir. A man may rot even here. . What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure
Their going hence, even as their coming hither;
Ripeness is all. Come on. 3120 . And that's true too. Exeunt.

Act V, Scene 3

The British camp, near Dover.

Enter, in conquest, with Drum and Colours, Edmund; Lear and Cordelia as prisoners; Soldiers, Captain. . Some officers take them away. Good guard
Until their greater pleasures first be known
That are to censure them. 3125 . We are not the first
Who with best meaning have incurr'd the worst.
For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down;
Myself could else outfrown false Fortune's frown.
Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters? 3130 . No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison.
We two alone will sing like birds i' th' cage.
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down
And ask of thee forgiveness. So we'll live,
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 3135
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues
Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too-
Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out-
And take upon 's the mystery of things,
As if we were God's spies; and we'll wear out, 3140
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones
That ebb and flow by th' moon. . Take them away. . Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia,
The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? 3145
He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven
And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes.
The goodyears shall devour 'em, flesh and fell,
Ere they shall make us weep! We'll see 'em starv'd first.
Come. Exeunt . 3150 . Come hither, Captain; hark.
Take thou this note . Go follow them to prison.
One step I have advanc'd thee. If thou dost
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way
To noble fortunes. Know thou this, that men 3155
Are as the time is. To be tender-minded
Does not become a sword. Thy great employment
Will not bear question. Either say thou'lt do't,
Or thrive by other means. . I'll do't, my lord. 3160 . About it! and write happy when th' hast done.
Mark- I say, instantly; and carry it so
As I have set it down. . I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats;
If it be man's work, I'll do't. Exit. 3165

Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Soldiers. . Sir, you have show'd to-day your valiant strain,
And fortune led you well. You have the captives
Who were the opposites of this day's strife.
We do require them of you, so to use them 3170
As we shall find their merits and our safety
May equally determine. . Sir, I thought it fit
To send the old and miserable King
To some retention and appointed guard; 3175
Whose age has charms in it, whose title more,
To pluck the common bosom on his side
And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes
Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen,
My reason all the same; and they are ready 3180
To-morrow, or at further space, t' appear
Where you shall hold your session. At this time
We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend;
And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd
By those that feel their sharpness. 3185
The question of Cordelia and her father
Requires a fitter place. . Sir, by your patience,
I hold you but a subject of this war,
Not as a brother. 3190 . That's as we list to grace him.
Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers,
Bore the commission of my place and person,
The which immediacy may well stand up 3195
And call itself your brother. . Not so hot!
In his own grace he doth exalt himself
More than in your addition. . In my rights 3200
By me invested, he compeers the best. . That were the most if he should husband you. . Jesters do oft prove prophets. . Holla, holla!
That eye that told you so look'd but asquint. 3205 . 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 3210
My lord and master. . Mean you to enjoy him? . The let-alone lies not in your good will. . Nor in thine, lord. . Half-blooded fellow, yes. 3215 . Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. . Stay yet; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee
On capital treason; and, in thine attaint,
This gilded serpent . For your claim, fair
sister, 3220
I bar it in the interest of my wife.
'Tis she is subcontracted to this lord,
And I, her husband, contradict your banes.
If you will marry, make your loves to me;
My lady is bespoke. 3225 . An interlude! . 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 3230
heart,
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less
Than I have here proclaim'd thee. . Sick, O, sick! . If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine. 3235 . There's my exchange . What in the world
he is
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies.
Call by thy trumpet. He that dares approach,
On him, on you, who not? I will maintain 3240
My truth and honour firmly. . A herald, ho! . A herald, ho, a herald! . Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers,
All levied in my name, have in my name 3245
Took their discharge. . My sickness grows upon me. . She is not well. Convey her to my tent.

Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound, 3250
And read out this. . Sound, trumpet! A trumpet sounds. . 'If any man of quality or degree within the lists of
the army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester,
that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound 3255
of the trumpet. He is bold in his defence.' . Sound! First trumpet. . Again! Second trumpet. . Again! Third trumpet.

Trumpet answers within.

Enter Edgar, armed, at the third sound, a Trumpet before him. . Ask him his purposes, why he appears
Upon this call o' th' trumpet. . What are you?
Your name, your quality? and why you answer 3265
This present summons? . Know my name is lost;
By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit.
Yet am I noble as the adversary
I come to cope. 3270 . Which is that adversary? . What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester? . Himself. What say'st thou to him? . Draw thy sword,
That, if my speech offend a noble heart, 3275
Thy arm may do thee justice. Here is mine.
Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours,
My oath, and my profession. I protest-
Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence,
Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, 3280
Thy valour and thy heart- thou art a traitor;
False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father;
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince;
And from th' extremest upward of thy head
To the descent and dust beneath thy foot, 3285
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou 'no,'
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent
To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak,
Thou liest. . In wisdom I should ask thy name; 3290
But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes,
What safe and nicely I might well delay
By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn.
Back do I toss those treasons to thy head; 3295
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart;
Which- for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise-
This sword of mine shall give them instant way
Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak!

Alarums. Fight. [Edmund falls.] . Save him, save him! . This is mere practice, Gloucester.
By th' law of arms thou wast not bound to answer
An unknown opposite. Thou art not vanquish'd,
But cozen'd and beguil'd. 3305 . Shut your mouth, dame,
Or with this paper shall I stop it. - . Hold, sir.
Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil.
No tearing, lady! I perceive you know it. 3310 . Say if I do- the laws are mine, not thine.
Who can arraign me for't? . Most monstrous!
Know'st thou this paper? . Ask me not what I know. Exit. 3315 . Go after her. She's desperate; govern her.

[Exit an Officer.] . What, you have charg'd me with, that have I done,
And more, much more. The time will bring it out.
'Tis past, and so am I.- But what art thou 3320
That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble,
I do forgive thee. . Let's exchange charity.
I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund;
If more, the more th' hast wrong'd me. 3325
My name is Edgar and thy father's son.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to scourge us.
The dark and vicious place where thee he got
Cost him his eyes. 3330 . Th' hast spoken right; 'tis true.
The wheel is come full circle; I am here. . Methought thy very gait did prophesy
A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee.
Let sorrow split my heart if ever I 3335
Did hate thee, or thy father! . Worthy prince, I know't. . Where have you hid yourself?
How have you known the miseries of your father? . By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale; 3340
And when 'tis told, O that my heart would burst!
The bloody proclamation to escape
That follow'd me so near (O, our lives' sweetness!
That with the pain of death would hourly die
Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift 3345
Into a madman's rags, t' assume a semblance
That very dogs disdain'd; and in this habit
Met I my father with his bleeding rings,
Their precious stones new lost; became his guide,
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair; 3350
Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him
Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd,
Not sure, though hoping of this good success,
I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last
Told him my pilgrimage. But his flaw'd heart 3355
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support!)
'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief,
Burst smilingly. . This speech of yours hath mov'd me,
And shall perchance do good; but speak you on; 3360
You look as you had something more to say. . If there be more, more woful, hold it in;
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this. . This would have seem'd a period 3365
To such as love not sorrow; but another,
To amplify too much, would make much more,
And top extremity.
Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man,
Who, having seen me in my worst estate, 3370
Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding
Who 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms
He fastened on my neck, and bellowed out
As he'd burst heaven; threw him on my father;
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him 3375
That ever ear receiv'd; which in recounting
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life
Began to crack. Twice then the trumpets sounded,
And there I left him tranc'd. . But who was this? 3380 . Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise
Followed his enemy king and did him service
Improper for a slave.

Enter a Gentleman with a bloody knife. . Help, help! O, help! 3385 . What kind of help? . Speak, man. . What means that bloody knife? . 'Tis hot, it smokes.
It came even from the heart of- O! she's dead! 3390 . Who dead? Speak, man. . Your lady, sir, your lady! and her sister
By her is poisoned; she hath confess'd it. . I was contracted to them both. All three
Now marry in an instant. 3395

Enter Kent. . Here comes Kent. . Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead.

This judgement of the heavens, that makes us tremble 3400
Touches us not with pity. O, is this he?
The time will not allow the compliment
That very manners urges. . I am come
To bid my king and master aye good night. 3405
Is he not here? . Great thing of us forgot!
Speak, Edmund, where's the King? and where's Cordelia?

Seest thou this object, Kent? 3410 . Alack, why thus? . Yet Edmund was belov'd.
The one the other poisoned for my sake,
And after slew herself. . Even so. Cover their faces. 3415 . I pant for life. Some good I mean to do,
Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send
(Be brief in't) to the castle; for my writ
Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia.
Nay, send in time. 3420 . Run, run, O, run! . To who, my lord? Who has the office? Send
Thy token of reprieve. . Well thought on. Take my sword;
Give it the Captain. 3425 . Haste thee for thy life. . He hath commission from thy wife and me
To hang Cordelia in the prison and
To lay the blame upon her own despair
That she fordid herself. 3430 . The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile.

[Edmund is borne off.]

Enter Lear, with Cordelia [dead] in his arms, [Edgar, Captain, and others following]. . Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stone.
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so 3435
That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!
I know when one is dead, and when one lives.
She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking glass.
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,
Why, then she lives. 3440 . Is this the promis'd end? . Or image of that horror? . Fall and cease! . This feather stirs; she lives! If it be so,
It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows 3445
That ever I have felt. . O my good master! . Prithee away! . 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. . A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! 3450
I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for ever!
Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha!
What is't thou say'st, Her voice was ever soft,
Gentle, and low- an excellent thing in woman.
I kill'd the slave that was a-hanging thee. 3455 . 'Tis true, my lords, he did. . Did I not, fellow?
I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion
I would have made them skip. I am old now,
And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you? 3460
Mine eyes are not o' th' best. I'll tell you straight. . If fortune brag of two she lov'd and hated,
One of them we behold. . This' a dull sight. Are you not Kent? . The same- 3465
Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius? . He's a good fellow, I can tell you that.
He'll strike, and quickly too. He's dead and rotten. . No, my good lord; I am the very man- . I'll see that straight. 3470 . That from your first of difference and decay
Have followed your sad steps. . You're welcome hither. . Nor no man else! All's cheerless, dark, and deadly.
Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves, 3475
And desperately are dead. . Ay, so I think. . He knows not what he says; and vain is it
That we present us to him. . Very bootless. 3480

Enter a Captain. . Edmund is dead, my lord. . That's but a trifle here.
You lords and noble friends, know our intent.
What comfort to this great decay may come 3485
Shall be applied. For us, we will resign,
During the life of this old Majesty,
To him our absolute power; you to your
rights;
With boot, and such addition as your honours 3490
Have more than merited.- All friends shall taste
The wages of their virtue, and all foes
The cup of their deservings.- O, see, see! . And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, 3495
And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,
Never, never, never, never, never!
Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir.
Do you see this? Look on her! look! her lips!
Look there, look there! He dies. 3500 . He faints! My lord, my lord! . Break, heart; I prithee break! . Look up, my lord. . Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him
That would upon the rack of this tough world 3505
Stretch him out longer. . He is gone indeed. . The wonder is, he hath endur'd so long.
He but usurp'd his life. . Bear them from hence. Our present business 3510
Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you
twain
Rule in this realm, and the gor'd state sustain. . I have a journey, sir, shortly to go.
My master calls me; I must not say no. 3515 . The weight of this sad time we must obey,
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
The oldest have borne most; we that are young
Shall never see so much, nor live so long.

Exeunt with a dead march.

THE END

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Sutton Foster and Michael Urie Reunite in the Zany ‘Once Upon a Mattress’

The hit Encores! production has transferred to Broadway, with a cast fiercely dedicated to entertaining its audience.

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A man in light blue medieval garb and a woman in a yellow dress dance while surrounded by other actors onstage.

By Elisabeth Vincentelli

Princess Winnifred and Prince Dauntless are goofy and playful characters. In most musicals, they would provide comic relief from the main story line. But in “Once Upon a Mattress,” it’s the funny people who rule, both literally and figuratively.

All the more so since Winnifred and Dauntless are played by Sutton Foster and Michael Urie in symbiotic performances that are highly controlled and precise while maintaining the appearance of off-the-cuff abandon.

And with the rest of the cast mostly following suit, it is refreshing to see actors so actively dedicating themselves to entertaining their audience. This kind of unabashed reveling in the joys of strutting your stuff appears to be in demand, too, judging by the recent success of “Oh, Mary!” and “Cats: The Jellicle Ball.”

The family-friendly “Once Upon a Mattress,” which premiered in 1959, is a good fit for the Encores! series — which stages shows that are rarely revived and presented this one in January . Now the production has transferred, with some changes in the supporting cast, to the Hudson Theater on Broadway.

Like many Encores! entries, Mary Rodgers and Marshall Barer’s variation on the Hans Christian Andersen tale “The Princess and the Pea” would probably struggle to crack anybody but a tween’s Top 10 list of the best musicals ever.

Also like many of those entries, “Once Upon a Mattress” turns out to be surprisingly sturdy in the right hands. Rodgers’s music is zingy and Barer’s lyrics often deploy sneakily enjoyable wordplay (“I lack a lass; alas! Alack!”). Just as important, the book by Barer, Jay Thompson and Dean Fuller is engineered to let gifted comic actors run loose — it is no coincidence that Carol Burnett originated the role of Winnifred.

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Michael Urie, center left, as Prince Dauntless and Sutton Foster as Princess Winnifred in the family-friendly musical "Once Upon a Mattress" at the Hudson Theater.
What is the most pivotal scene in King Lear, and why is it crucial to
Share Cite. The most important scene inKing Learis Scene 4 of Act 2. This is where Lear confronts both of his ungrateful daughters, Goneril and Regan, and realizes that, rather than loving him as ...

Literary Theory and Criticism

Analysis of William Shakespeare’s King Lear

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William Shakespeare

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'King Lear' Act 1: Summary of the Opening Scene

Setting the Scene

Dividing the Kingdom

The Ramifications of Cordelia's Refusal

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King Lear - Act 1, scene 1

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Act 1 Scene 1

What do we Learn?

Act 1 Scene 2

Act 1 Scene 3

Act 1 Scene 4

Act 1 Scene 5

Things to Notice in Act 1

Act 2 Scene 1

Act 2 Scene 2

Things to Notice in Act 2

Act 3 Scene 1

Act 3 Scene 2

Act 3 Scene 3

Act 3 Scene 4

Act 3 Scene 5

Act 3 Scene 6

Act 3 Scene 7

Things to Notice in Act 3

Act 4 Scene 1

Act 4 Scene 2

Act 4 Scene 3

Act 4 Scene 4

Act 4 Scene 5

Act 4 Scene 6

Act 4 Scene 7

Things to Notice in Act 4

Act 5 Scene 1

Act 5 Scene 2

Act 5 Scene 3

Things to Notice in Act 5

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by William Shakespeare

Act I Analysis:

King Lear Questions and Answers

Study Guide for King Lear

Essays for King Lear

Lesson Plan for King Lear

E-Text of King Lear

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Important Scenes in King Lear

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