1

King Lear
by
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Contents: Pg:
1. Act I scene I: King Lear’s Palace 2
2. Act I scene II: The Earl of Gloucester’s Castle 7
3. Act I scene III: The Duke of Albany’s Palace 10
4. Act I scene IV: A hall in the same 11
5. Act I scene V: Court before the same 16
6. Act II scene I: A court within Gloucester's Castle  17
7. Act II scene II: Before Gloucester's castle 19
8. Act II scene III: The open country 22
9. Act II scene IV: Before Gloucester’s Castle; Kent in the stocks 23
10. Act III scene I: A health 28
11. Act III scene II: Another part of the heath 29
12. Act III scene III: Gloucester’s Castle 31
13. Act III scene IV: The heath before a hovel 32
14. Act III scene V: Gloucester’s Castle 35
15. Act III scene VI: A farmhouse near Gloucester’s Castle 36
16. Act III scene VII: Gloucester’s castle 38
17. Act IV scene I: The heath 40
18. Act IV scene II: Before Albany's palace 42
19. Act IV scene III: The French camp near Dover 44
20. Act IV scene IV: The French camp 45
21. Act IV scene V: Gloucester's castle 46
22. Act IV scene VI: The country near Dover 47
23. Act IV scene VII: A tent in the French camp 52
24. Act V Scene I: The British camp near Dover 54
25. Act V scene II: A field between the two camps 56
26. Act V Scene III: The British camp near Dover 57
27. Analysis 63
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Act I

SCENE I
King Lear's Palace

[Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund. Kent and Gloucester converse. Edmund stands back.]
Earl of Kent: I thought the King had influenced the Duke of Albany more than the Duke of
Cornwall.
Earl of Gloucester: That has always seemed so to us; but now, as the Kingdom is divided, it's
unclear which of the Dukes he values the most, for equalities are so weighed that curiosity in
neither can choose who will receive the majority.
Earl of Kent: Isn't this your son, my lord?
Earl of Gloucester: His breeding, sir, has been in my charge. In the past, I have blushed at
recognizing him, but now I'm brazen about it.
Earl of Kent: I can’t fathom you.
Earl of Gloucester: Sir, this young fellow's mother could; whereupon she grew round-wombed,
and had, indeed, sir, a son for her cradle, before she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a
fault?
Earl of Kent: I can't wish the fault away because the issue is so serious.
Earl of Gloucester: But, sir, I have a son-in-law, a few years older than this, which isn't dearer
to me. Though this knave came into the world a little saucily before he was summoned, his
mother was fair; there was good sport in his making. The crime must be acknowledged. Do you
know this noble gentleman, Edmund?
Edmund:  [comes forward] No, my lord.
Earl of Gloucester: My Lord of Kent. I'll always remember him as my friend.
Edmund: My services to your lordship.
Earl of Kent: I must fall in love with you and sue to get to know you better.
Edmund: Sir, I'll study diligently.
Earl of Gloucester: He's been missing for nine years, and he'll be lost again. [Sound of a
sennet.] The King is coming.
[Enter one bearing a coronet; then Lear; then the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall; next, Goneril,
Regan and Cordelia, with followers.]
Lear: Gloucester, attends the Lords of France and Burgundy.
Earl of Gloucester: Yes, my lord.
[Exeunt Gloucester and Edmund].
Lear: In the meantime, we'll speak of our darker purpose. Give me the map there. Our kingdom
has been divided into three parts. Our aim is to pass on all the care and business of our years to
younger generations. Both our son Cornwall and our equally loving son Albany have a constant
desire to publish our daughters' several dowers, so that future strife may be prevented. The
princes of France and Burgundy are our daughters' fierce rivals in love, long at court; and here
they are to be answered. Tell me, my daughters, which of you, shall we say, loves us the most
now that we are free of rule, territorial interest, and state care? Wherever nature challenges us
with merit, we may find our most valuable wealth. Goneril, our eldest-born, speaks first.
Goneril: Sir, I love you more than words can describe; dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty;
beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; no less than life, with grace, health, beauty, and honor;
as much as a child has ever desired, or a father found; a love that makes breath poor, and speech
 3

unable. You are the love I have beyond all manner of love.

Cordelia: [aside] What shall Cordelia say? Love, and be silent.
Lear: We make my lady of all these bounds, even from this line to this, with their shadowy
forests and rich champaigns, with plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads. This is a perpetual
issue for you and Albany. What did our second daughter, our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall,
say? Speak.
Regan: Sir. I'm made of the same metal that my sister is, and you should value me at her
worth. In my sincere heart, I find she names my very deed of love; but she falls short, and I
profess myself an enemy to all other joys which the most precious square of sense possesses; and
I find I'm alone felicitated in your dear Highness' love.
Cordelia: [aside] Then poor Cordelia! And yet not so, since I am sure my love is richer than my
tongue.
Lear: This ample third of our fair kingdom will always be yours, no less in space, validity, and
pleasure than that bestowed on Goneril. We're greatly honored to be your joy. We are the last
among all the others, whose young love is wooed by the grapevines of France and the milk of
Burgundy. What can you say to attract a woman more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
Cordelia: Nothing, my lord.
Lear: Nothing?
Cordelia: Nothing.
Lear: Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again.
Cordelia: As miserable as I am, I can’t force my heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty
according to my bond; no more nor less.
Lear: How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a bit, lest it hurt your fortunes.
Cordelia: My lord, you begat, you bred; you loved me; I return to those duties, since they are
fitting; I obey and love you. Most of all, I honor you. Why do my sisters' husbands live with us if
they say they love you all? Hopefully, when I shall wed, that lord whose hand must take my
plight shall carry half my love with him, half my care and duty. Unlike my sisters, I'll never
marry, so I'll always appreciate my father.
Lear: But how do you feel about this?
Cordelia: Ay, well done, my lord.
Lear: So young and so untender?
Cordelia: So young, my Lord, and true.
Lear: Let it be so. Then be thy truth and 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 from whom we do exist and
cease to be, here, I refuse all my paternal care, propinquity, and property of blood; and as a
stranger to my heart and me, hold thee from this forever. My barbarous Scythian or he who
makes his generation a mess just to satisfy his appetite, shall be just as well neighbored, pitied,
and relieved in my bosom as you, my sometime daughter.
Earl of Kent: Good, my lord.
Lear: Peace, Kent! Come between the dragon and his wrath. Her nursery was my favorite, and I
decided to rest there. Hence, avoid my site! Let my grave be my peace; for here I give her
father's heart! Call France! Who stirs? Call Burgundy! Let Cornwall and Albany, with my two
daughters' dowers, digest this third; let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. You're
invested in my power, preeminence and all the positive effects that come with majesty. We shall
occupy your abode by turns, with you to support a reservation of a hundred knights. Nonetheless,
we retain the name and all the additions. You shall have sway, revenue and execution over the
 4

rest, beloved sons; which shall be confirmed between you.

Earl of Kent: Royal Lear, whom I have ever honored as my king, loved as my father, followed
as my master, and prayed for in my prayers.
Lear: The bow is bent and drawn; it has a shaft.
Earl of Kent: Let it fall, though the fork invades the region of my heart! Be Kent unmannerly
when Lear is mad. What would you do, old man? Does duty fear speak when power bows to
flattery? Honor is bound when majesty falls to folly. Reverse your destiny by stopping this
hideous rashness. Answer my life, my judgment. Neither your youngest daughter nor those
without hollow hearts whose low sound reverberates in the air love you the least.
Lear: Kent, on thy life, no more!
Earl of Kent: My life I never held, but as a pawn to fight thine enemies; nor did I fear losing it;
thy safety being the motive.
Lear: Out of my sight!
Earl of Kent: See better, Lear, and let me remain the true blank of your eye.
Lear: Now by Apollo.
Earl of Kent: Now by Apollo, King, thou swears to thy gods in vain.
Lear: Oh vassal! Miscreant! [Lays his hand on his sword.]
Duke of Albany: [with Cornwall] Dear sir, forbear!
Earl of Kent: Do! A foul disease is rewarded for the death of a physician. Or, while my throat is
clamoring, I'll tell you that you do evil.
Lear: Hear me, recreatant! Hear me on thy allegiance! It's our reward for attempting to break our
vow, which we fear breaking. Also, we are trying to come between our sentence and our power,
which neither nature nor place could bear. Our power has made us rich. On five days, we give
you provisions to shield you from the diseases of the world; and on the sixth, we turn your head
back upon our kingdom. If on the tenth day following, your banished trunk is found in our
dominions, that moment is your death. Away! Jupiter may not revoke this.
Earl of Kent: King, farewell. Since you'll appear in this manner, freedom lives here, and
banishment is here. [To Cordelia]  Take the gods to their dear shelter, maid, who thinks and
speaks most rightly! [To Regan and Goneril]  And your actions confirm your large speeches, so
that positive effects may spring from words of love. Thus Kent, Oh Princes, bids you all adieu;
he'll shape his old course in a completely different country. [Exeunt.]
[Flourish. Enter Gloucester, with France and Burgundy as attendants.]
Earl of Gloucester: Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
Lear: My Lord of Burgundy, I begin with you, who have competed with this king for our
daughter. Will you at least take a dowry with her, or will you cease your quest for love?
Duke of Burgundy: Most Royal Majesty, I crave no more than what your highness has offered;
nor will you tender less.
Lear: Right noble Burgundy, when she was dear to us, we held her so; but now her price has
fallen. Sir, there she stands. She's there, and she's yours, if there is anything within that small,
seeming substance. If all of it can be considered your Grace, then she's there, and she's yours.
Duke of Burgundy: I know no answer.
Lear: Will you, with those infirmities she owes, unfriended, newly adopted to our hate, dowered
with our curse, and strangers with our oath, take her or leave her?
Duke of Burgundy: Pardon me, royal sir. Elections aren't held under such conditions.
Lear: Then leave her, sir; for by the power that made me, I'll tell you all her wealth. [To France]
For you, great King, I wouldn't stray from your love to match you where I despise; therefore, I
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beseech you to direct your affections to a worthy cause rather than on a wretch whom nature is
ashamed to almost acknowledge.
King of France: This is most strange, that she, who even now was your favorite object, the
argument of your praise, the balm of your age, beloved, dearest, should in this trice of time
commit a thing so monstrous as to dismantle so many folds of favor. She must be guilty of such
an unnatural act that your fore-vouched affection is tainted; and for me to believe in her must be
a faith made impossible by reason, without a miracle.
Cordelia: Certainly, it remains to be asked of your Majesty, if I wish this art to express only
what I intend to say, I'll make sure, before I say anything, that you inform me that there is no
smear, no murther, no foulness, no unchaste action or dishonorable step that's deprived me of
your grace or favor; but even the absence of a tongue I wish I had, though I shall not have it, has
taken me into my position.
Lear: It would have been better if you hadn't been born than if you hadn't pleased me.
King of France: Is it only nature's tardiness, which frequently leaves history unspoken, that it
intends to do? What do you think of the lady, My Lord of Burgundy? When it's mixed with
aloofness, love doesn't love. Will you have her? She herself is a dowry.
Duke of Burgundy: Royal Lear, here's your portion, and I take Cordelia's hand. Duchess of
Burgundy.
Lear: Nothing! I've sworn; I'm firm.
Duke of Burgundy: I'm sorry, then. You have so lost a father that you must lose a husband.
Cordelia: Peace be with Burgundy! I won't be his wife because he loves the respect of fortune.
King of France: Cordelia, you are the wealthiest, while also being the poorest; the most
desirable while also being despised; and the most loved while also being despised! Your virtues
are admirable here. I take what's left behind, if it's legal. Gods, gods! It's odd that despite their
coldest neglect, my love elicits such a deep sense of respect. The King, thy dowerless daughter,
reigns over us, us, and our fair France, which has been thrown into my lot. Not all the dukes in
Wet Burgundy can afford to buy my unpriced, precious maid. Cordelia bids them farewell,
though unkind. I lost it here. A better place to find it.
Lear: Thou hast her, France; let her be thine; for we have no such daughter; nor shall we ever
see that face of hers again. Therefore, be lost without our grace, our love, our support. Come,
noble Burgundy.
[Flourish, Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, Cornwall, Albany, Gloucester, and Attendants.]
King of France: Bid farewell to your sisters.
Cordelia: The jewels of our father, Cordelia, leave you with washed eyes. I know you are and,
like a sister, am most loath to call your faults as they are named. Use our father well. I commit
him to your professed bosoms; but, alas, standing within his grace, I would prefer he go
somewhere better! So, farewell to you both.
Goneril: Prescribe for us our duties.
Regan: Let your study be to please your Lord, who's given you alms. Your desire has been
scanned, and you deserve it.
Cordelia: Time will reveal what pampered cunning conceals. Who covers their faults, shames,
and derides them? Well, may you prosper.
King of France: Come, my lovely Cordelia.
[Exeunt France and Cordelia.]
Goneril: Sister. I have a lot to say about something that almost directly affects us both. I think
our father will come tonight.
 6

Regan: That's likely, and with you; next month with us.

Goneril: You see how his age is full of changes? We've made many observations about it. What
poor judgment has he now shown by casting our sister away? It appears grossly wrong.
Regan: It is the infirmity of his age, but he has always known himself.
Goneril: The finest and soundest of his time has been rash, so we must expect from his age not
only the imperfections of long-ingraffed condition, but also the unruly waywardness that infirm
and choleric years bring with them.
Regan: Such inconsistent starts are we pleased to have from him as this of Kent's banishment.
Goneril: The French leave him with a further compliment. Let me pray for you. Let's hit it
together. We won't be offended if our father carries authority with such dispositions as his.
Regan: We'll consider it further.
Goneril: We must do something, and I'll take the heat.
[Exeunt.]
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SCENE II
The Earl of Gloucester's Castle

[Enter Edmund with a letter].

Edmund: Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law I'm bound. Wherefore, should I stand in the
plague of custom, and permit the curiosity of nations to deprive me, because I am some twelve or
fourteen moonshines lag of a brother? Why? Wherefore base? When my dimensions are as
compact, my mind as generous, and my shape as true as an honest madam's issue, why brand
them with the base? With baseness? Bastardy? Base, base? There's no greater lusty stealth in
nature than those that create a whole tribe of fops between waking and sleeping, within a dull,
stale, tired bed. Well then, Edgar, I must have your land. Our father's love is for the fool
Edmund, as well as for the son. That's a fine word, "legal"! Well, my legitimate, if this letter
speeds and my invention prosper, Edmund, the base, will reach the top. I grow and I
prosper. Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
[Enter Gloucester.]
Earl of Gloucester: Kent banished thus? And France in cholera parted? Is the King departed
tonight? Do you subscribe to his power? Confined to an exhibition? Does the group handle all
this? Edmund, how now? What's the news?
Edmund: So please, your lordship, none.
[Puts up the letter.]
Earl of Gloucester: Why did I so earnestly seek your permission to post that letter?
Edmund: I have no news, my Lord.
Earl of Gloucester: What paper were you reading?
Edmund: Nothing, my lord.
Earl of Gloucester: No? What do you need then, that terrible dispatch of it? The quality of
nothing can be hidden. Let's see. Come, if it is nothing, I shall not need spectacles.
Edmund: I beseech you, sir, pardon me. A letter from my brother that I haven't read all the way
through. From what I've read, I deem it unworthy of your attention.
Earl of Gloucester: Give me the letter, sir.
Edmund: Either to detain him or to give him up will offend me. The contents, as I understand
them, are to blame.
Earl of Gloucester: Let's see, let's see!
Edmund: I hope, for my brother's sake, he didn't write this as an essay or an explanation of my
virtue.
Earl of Gloucester: [reads] "This policy and reverence of age make the world bitter to the glory
of our times; it keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness can’t relish them. In the oppression of
a tyranny, I find idle and fond, because it sways not as it has power, but as it suffers. Come to
me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till, I woke him, you should enjoy
half his earnings forever and live the beloved life of your brother, Edgar. Hum! Conspiracy?
'Sleep till I wake him. You should enjoy half his revenue." My son, Edgar, did he have a hand to
write this? Can it be bred with a heart and a brain? When happened to you? Who brought it?
Edmund: It wasn't brought to me, my lord; that's the cunning of it. I found it thrown in the top
of my closet.
Earl of Gloucester: Do you know that character is your brother?
Edmund: If the matter were right, my lord, I'd swear it were his; but for that, I would faint, think
it wasn't.
 8

Earl of Gloucester: It's his.

Edmund: My Lord, it's his hand; but I hope that his heart isn't in it.
Earl of Gloucester: Has he never sounded like you in this business?
Edmund: Never, my lord. I have heard him insist that with sons at an ideal age, and fathers
declining, the father should be a ward of the son, who would manage its revenue.
Earl of Gloucester: Oh villain, villain! It's his opinion in the letter! An abhorred villain! An
unnatural, detested, brutish villain! Worse than brutish! You, Sirrah, seek him. I'll apprehend
him. The Abominable villain! Where is he?
Edmund: I don't know you well, my lord. If you wish to suspend your anger against my brother
until you have better insight into his motives, you should follow a certain course of action. If you
violently pursued him, mistaking his purpose, you would seriously damage your honor and
shatter his obedience. It's written for him to understand my love for you and not for any other
reason.
Earl of Gloucester: Think you so?
Edmund: If your honor should judge it suitable, I shall position you whereby you'll hear us
confer on this and receive your satisfaction and that without further delay than this evening.
Earl of Gloucester: He can't be such a monster.
Edmund: Nor is it, sure.
Earl of Gloucester: To his father, who 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
wisdom. I don't claim to be in a position of resolution.
Edmund: I'll seek him, sir, immediately; I shall find means, and let you know about it.
Earl of Gloucester: These late eclipses of the sun and moon portend no good for us. Though the
wisdom of nature can reason thus and thus, nature finds itself scourged by the results. Love
cools, friendships fall apart, brothers divide. In cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces,
treason; and the bond broken between son and father. Using the prediction: the son turns on the
father; the king is defeated by nature's bias; the father turns against the child. We have seen the
peaks of our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all other ruinous disorders follow us
disquietly to our graves. Discover this villain, Edmund; you'll gain nothing by doing so. And the
noble and loyal Kent was banished! His offense: honesty! It's strange. [Exeunt.]
Edmund: This is the excellent irony of the world, that, when we suffer in fortune, often from the
excess of our behavior, we ascribe what we suffer to the sun, moon, and stars as if they were
villains by necessity; fools by divine compulsion; knaves, thieves, and teachers by planetary
dominance; and drunkards, liars, and adulterers by divine thrusting. Quite an audacious move by
the prostitute, to lay the goatish disposition of a star to the charge! My father and mother were
under the Dragon's Tail, and my birthplace is Ursa Major, so it follows that I am rough and
lecherous. Fut! I should have been what I am, had the first star in the firmament twinkled in my
bastardizing. Edgar [Enter Edgar.] And pat! He comes, like the catastrophe of the old comedy.
My cue is villainous melancholy, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. Oh, these eclipses do portend
these divisions! Fa, sol, la, mi.
Edgar: How now, brother Edmund? In what serious contemplation are you?
Edmund: I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read the other day: what should follow these
eclipses?
Edgar: Do you spend much time on that?
Edmund: I promise you, the effects he writes of succeeding unhappily are: death, dearth,
dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in the state, menaces, and valediction against the king
 9

and nobles; needless differences, the banishment of friends, the dissipation of cohorts, nuptial
breaches, and I don't know what else.
Edgar: How long have you been an astronomer?
Edmund: Come, come! When did you last see my father?
Edgar: The night passed by.
Edmund: What did you say to him?
Edgar: Ay, two hours together.
Edmund: Did you leave on good terms? I found no displeasure in his words or countenance.
Edgar: None.
Edward: Think yourself as to where you may have offended him; and refrain from his presence
until he's cooled down from the heat of his displeasure, which at this moment may scarcely be
allayed by the mischief of your person.
Edgar: Some villain has done me wrong.
Edmund: That's my fear. Let me ask you to have a continental forbearance until the speed of his
rage slows; and, as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from which I'll bring you to hear my
Lord. Pray ye, go! There's my key. If you do cause trouble abroad, be armed.
Edgar: Armed, brother?
Edmund: Brother, I advise you to the finest of my ability. Go armed. In any case, I'm not being
honest. I have told you what I've seen and heard, but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of
it. Pray you away!
Edgar: Shall I hear from you soon?
Edmund: I'm here to serve you in this business. [Exeunt Edgar.] A credulous father! I have a
nobleman whose nature prohibits him from doing harm, on whose foolish honesty my practices
rest easy! I see the business. Rather than by birth, let me alight by wit. Everything I meet, I can
fit in. 
[Exeunt.]
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SCENE III
The Duke of Albany's Palace
 
[Enter Goneril and Oswald].
Goneril: Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding his fool?
Oswald: Ay, madam.
Goneril: Day and night, he wrongs me! Every hour, he flashes into one gross crime or another
that sets us all at odds. I'll not endure it. His knights are riotous, and he himself reproaches us for
every trifle. When he returns from hunting, I won't speak with him. Say I'm sick. If you lack the
previous services, you'll do well; I'll answer for it.
[Horns within.]
Oswald: He's coming, madam; I hear him.
Goneril: Put on what weary negligence you please, you and your fellows. I'd like it to come to a
question. Let him talk to our sister, whose mind and mine are one and not to be overruled. An old
man who still manages those he's given away! Old fools are once again babes and must be
treated with flattery when abused. Remember what I said?
Oswald: Very well, madam.
Goneril: Let the knights of his army have colder looks among you. What comes out of it, no
matter? Advise your colleagues so. On these occasions, I'll grow, so that I may speak. I'll write to
my sister immediately to ask her to hold my course. Prepare dinner.
[Exeunt.]
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SCENE IV
A hall in the same
 
[Enter Kent, disguised].
Earl of Kent: If I borrow other accents, which may make my speech defuse, and my positive
intent may carry through itself to that full issue for which I raised my likeness. Now, banished,
Kent, if thou canst serve where thou are condemned, so may it happen that thy master, whom
thou love, shall find thee full of labors. [Horns within] [Enter Lear, Knights, and Attendants.]
Lear: Let me not stay a jot for dinner; get it ready. [Exeunt an Attendant.] How now? What art
thou?
Earl of Kent: A man, sir.
Lear: What dost thou profess? What wouldst thou do with us?
Earl of Kent: I pledge to never be less than I seem, to serve him with all, to love him who's
honest, to converse with him who's wise and says little, to fear judgment; to fight when I can’t
decide, and to eat no fish.
Lear: What art thou?
Earl of Kent: Was a very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the King.
Lear: If thou be'st as poor for a subject as he's for a king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst
thou do?
Earl of Kent: Service.
Lear: Who would you serve?
Earl of Kent: You.
Lear: Dost thou know me, fellow?
Earl of Kent: No, sir; but you have that look in your countenance, which I would fan call your
master.
Lear: What's that?
Earl of Kent: Authority.
Lear: What services can you offer?
Earl of Kent: I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, tell a curious tale in telling it, and deliver a
plain message bluntly. That which ordinary men are fit for, I'm qualified for; and the finest
quality of me is diligence.
Lear: How old art thou?
Earl of Kent: 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.
Lear: Follow me; thou shalt serve me. I won't part with you until I like you no worse after
dinner. Dinner, ho, dinner! Where's my knave? My fool? Let's call my fool over here. [Exeunt an
attendant. Enter Oswald] You, you, Sirrah, where's my daughter?
Oswald: So please you. [Exeunt.]
Lear: What does the fellow there say? Call the Clotpoll back. [Exeunt a Knight.] Where's my
fool, ho? The world is asleep. [Enter Knight] How now? Where's that mongrel?
Knight: He says, "My lord, your daughter is not well."
Lear: Why did the slave not come back to me when I called him?
Knight: Sir, he answered me most kindly. He wouldn't.
Lear: He wouldn't?
Knight: My lord, I know what the matter is, but it appears to me that your highness isn't treated
with the ceremonious affection you were used to. For dependents, the duke himself, and your
 12

daughter, there's less kindness.

Lear: Ha! So, sayest thou so?
Knight: I beseech you to pardon me, my lord, if I am mistaken; for my duty can’t be silent when
I think your highness is wrong.
Lear: Thou remember me of your own conception. There's been a slight neglect of late, which
I've attributed more to my personal jealousy than to any unkind intention. I'll look further into it.
But where's my fool? I haven't seen him for two days.
Knight: Since my young lady's entry into France, sir, the fool is pining away.
Lear: No more of that; I've taken note. Go ahead and tell my daughter I'll speak with
her. [Exeunt Knight.] Go you, call me my fool. [Exeunt an Attendant. Enter Oswald.] Oh, you,
sir, you! Come you hither, sir. Who am I, sir?
Oswald: My lady's father.
Lear: "My lady's father"? My lord's knave! You whoreson dog! You slave! You cur!
Oswald: I'm none of these. I beseech your pardon.
Lear: Do you look at me, you rascal?
[Strikes him.]
Oswald: I'll not be struck, my lord.
Earl of Kent: Are you a rugby player?
[Trips up his heels.]
Lear: I thank you, fellow. You serve me, and I'll love you.
Earl of Kent: Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you the differences. Away, away! If you measure
your lubber's length again, tarry, but hurry! Go to! Do you have wisdom? So.
[Pushes him out.]
Lear: Now, my friendly knave, I thank you. Your service is sincere. [Gives money.]
[Enter Fool.]
Fool: Let me hire him too. Here's my coxcomb.
[Offers Kent his cap.]
Lear: How are you, my pretty knave? How dost thou?
Fool: Sirrah, you were right to take my coxcomb.
Earl of Kent: Why, fool?
Fool: Why? Taking a position that's out of favor. Nay, thou shalt not smile as the wind sits; thou
shalt catch a cold shortly. There, take my coxcomb! Why, this fellow hath banished two of his
daughters, and made the third a blessing against his will. If you follow him, you'll need to wear
my coxcomb. How now, nuncle? I would love to have two coxcombs and two daughters!
Lear: Why, my boy?
Fool: If I gave them all my life, I'd keep my coxcombs to myself. There's mine! Another of your
daughters.
Lear: Take heed, Sirrah, the whip.
Fool: Truth is a dog that has to be kenneled; he must be whipped out, so the lady of the brach
may stand by the fire and stink.
Lear: A pestilent gall to me!
Fool: Sirrah, I'll teach you a speech.
Lear: Do.
Fool: Mark it, nuncle. Have more than thou show, speak less than thou know, lend less than thou
owe, ride more than you go, learn more than thou trow, set less than thou throw; leave thy drink
and thy and keep in a-door and thou shalt have more than two tens to a score.
 13

Earl of Kent: This is nothing, fool.

Fool: Then, it's like the breath of an unfed lawyer. You gave me nothing for it. Can you make
use of nothing, nuncle?
Lear: Why, no, boy. Nothing can be made of nothing.
Fool: [to Kent] Prithee tells him that most of the rent on his land comes from him. He won't
believe a fool.
Lear: A bitter fool!
Fool: Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet fool?
Lear: No, lad; teach me.
Fool: That lord that counseled thee to give away your land; come place him here by me; do thou
obey him. The sweet and bitter fool will presently appear; the one in motley here; the other
exposed there.
Lear: Dost thou call me a fool, boy?
Fool: All the other titles you've given away, titles you were born with.
Earl of Kent: This isn't altogether foolish, my lord.
Fool: No, faith; lords and wise men won't let me. If I had a monopoly, they would've been part
of it. And ladies, they won't let me have all the fools to myself; they'll snatch. Give me an egg,
nuncle and I'll give you two crowns.
Lear: What two crowns should they be?
Fool: Why, after I have cut the egg in the middle and eaten up the meat, are there still two
crowns of the egg? By giving away both parts of thy crown, you bore thine over the ground. You
had no value in your golden crown if you gave it away. If I am speaking the truth, he who first
finds it must be whipped. [Sings] Fools have no less grace in a year; for wise men have grown
foppish; they know not how to wear their wits and their manners are so apish.
Lear: When were you likely to be so full of songs, Sirrah?
Fool: I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou mad thy daughters thy mother, for when thou gave
them the rod, and put down thine own breeches, [Sings] then they, for sudden joy, did weep; and
I, for sorrow, sang, that such a king should play bo-peep and play the fools among. My prince,
keep a schoolmaster who can teach your fool to lie. I would like to learn to lie.
Lear: If you lie, Sirrah, we'll whip you.
Fool: I marvel at the kinship you and your daughters share. They'll have me whipped for
speaking the truth; they'll have me whipped for lying, and sometimes I'm whipped for holding
my peace. I would rather be anything but a fool! And yet I wouldn't be the one, nuncle. You've
used your wit on both sides and left nothing in the middle. Here's one of the parings.
[Enter Goneril.]
Lear: How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on? Methinks you came too late to the
frown.
Fool: Thou was a fellow when thou had no need to care about her frowning. Now you are an Oh
without a figure. I'm better than you are now. I am a fool. You're nothing. [To Goneril] Yes, of
course, I'll hold my tongue. So, your face tells me, even if you say nothing. Mom, mom! He that
keeps no crust nor crum, weary of all, shall want some. [Points at Lear] That's a shelled peascod.
Goneril: Not only, sir, is this your all-licensed fool, but other members of your insolent retinue
do hourly carp and quarrel, breaking forth in rank and not-to-be-endured riots. By making it
known to you, I had hoped to elicit a satisfactory resolution; however, after hearing what you've
said and done, I grow trembling in fear, lest you should protect this course by your allowance, in
which case the fault wouldn't escape censure, nor the solution sleep, which, in the tender of
 14

wholesome wealth, might in their working do you that injurious offense which would otherwise
be that stigma, which calls for an ingenuous manifestation.
Fool: For you know. Nuncle, the hedge-sparrow, fed the cuckoo for so long that it had its head it
off by its young. So out with the candle, and we were left dark.
Lear: Are you, our daughter?
Goneril: Come, sir. I want you to use that apt wisdom that I understand you possess and let go
of these dispositions that have changed you from what you were destined to be.
Fool: Won't you know when the cart leads the horse? Whoop, Jug, I love you!
Lear: Does anyone here know me? This isn't Lear. Doth Lear walk thus? So, to speak? Where
are his eyes? A decline in perception or loss of discernment. Ha! Waking? It is not so! Who is it
that can tell me who I am?
Fool: Lear's shadow.
Lear: I would learn that, for, by the marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should be
falsely persuaded that I had daughters.
Fool: Which they'll make an obedient father of.
Lear: What's your name, fair lady?
Goneril: This admiration, sir, is evident in your other clever pranks. I ask you to understand my
motives. As you are old and reverend, you should be wise. Here do you keep a hundred knights
and squires; men so disordered, so debossed, so arrogant, that this our court, infected with their
manners, looks like a riotous inn. Epicurism and lust make it more like a tavern or a brothel than
a graced palace. The shame itself calls for a quick remedy. Then she begs someone else to take
the thing, to disqualify you. The rest shall still depend on such men as may suit your age, who
know themselves and you.
Lear: Darkness and devils! Saddle my horses! Call my train together! Degenerate, I'll not
trouble thee; yet I have left a daughter.
Goneril: Your disordered rabble makes servants of their betters.
[Enter Albany.]
Lear: Woe to him who repents too late! Oh, sir, are you coming? Is it your will? Speak, sir!
Prepare my horses. Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, more hideous when thou show there's
a child than the sea monster!
Duke of Albany: Pray, sir, be patient.
Lear: [to Goneril] Detested kite, thou lie! For they are men of the finest and rarest parts.
Soldiers know and love my trains. Oh, your fault, how unsightly you were in Cordelia! Which,
like an engine, wrenched my frame of nature from its fixed place; drew from my heart all love;
and added to the gall. Oh, Lear, Lear, Lear! Strikes his head at this gate that let thy folly
in [Strikes his head.] and thy dear judgment is out! Let's go, my people.
Duke of Albany: My lord, I'm guiltless, as I am ignorant of what's moved you.
Lear: It may be so, my lord. Hear, nature, hear! Dear goddess, listen! Suspend thy purpose if
you did intend to make this creature fruitful. From her womb, convey sterility; dry up in her the
organs of growth; and from her derogatory body, never spring a babe to honor her! Suppose she
must teem, create her child from her spleen, that it may live to torment her. Let it stamp wrinkles
in her brow of youth, with cadent tears and fret channels in her cheeks, turn all her mother's pains
and benefits into laughter and contempt, that she may feel how sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
to have a thankless child! Away, away! [Exeunt.]
Duke of Albany: Now, gods that we adore, from where comes this?
Goneril: Don't desire to know the cause but allow his disposition to expand as he grows older.
 15

[Enter Lear.]
Lear: What, fifty of my followers are clapping? Within a fortnight?
Duke of Albany: What's the matter, sir?
Lear: I'll tell you. [To Goneril] Life and death! It's very embarrassing that you have the power to
shake the foundations of my manhood. Those tears, which must fall from my eyes, should make
you valuable. Blasts and fog upon thee! The unending woundings of a father's curse pierce every
pour of your being! Weep for this cause. I'll pluck you out, and cast you with the waters that you
lost, to temper clay. Yes, has it come to this? Let it be so. Yet I have left a daughter, who I'm
sure is kind and comfortable. When she shall hear this from you, with her nails, she'll flay thy
wolfish visage. Thou shalt find that I'll regain the form which thou do think I have cast off
forever; thou shalt, I warrant thee.  
[Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Attendants].
Goneril: Do you see that, my lord?
Duke of Albany: I can’t be so partial, Goneril, to the profound love I bear you.
Goneril: Pray for you, content. What, Oswald, ho! [To the Fool] You, sir, are more a knave than
a fool, after your master!
Fool: Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry! Take the fool with you. When she's caught, if my cap
would buy a halter, she should go to slaughter. So, the fool follows suit. 
[Exeunt]
Goneril: This man is receiving wise counsel! A hundred knights? We should let him keep a
hundred knights at his disposal, yes. This is so that on every dream, buzz, fancy, complaint, or
dislike, he may guard his honor with their power, and keep our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say!
Duke of Albany: Well, you may fear pushing too far.
Goneril: Safer than trusting too much. Let me remove the harm. I fear, not fear losing it. I know
his heart. What he hath said, I have written, my sister. She sustains him and his hundred knights,
even though I have shown myself unfit. [Enter Oswald] What now, Oswald? Have you written
that letter to my sister?
Oswald: Yes, madam.
Goneril: Let's go to the horse! Inform her fully of my fear and add to it such reasons of your
own as may make it more compact. Get you out of here and hasten your return. [Exeunt
Oswald.] No, no! My lord! It's true that your mildness and course aren't condemned; yet you're
more at risk for lack of wisdom than praised for harmful mildness.
Duke of Albany: How far your eyes may penetrate, I can’t tell. Striving to be better, we often
ruin what's good.
Goneril: Nay then...
Duke of Albany: Well, well, the event. 
[Exeunt.]
 16

SCENE V
Court before the same
 
[Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool]
Lear: Take these letters to Gloucester before you leave. Don't tell my daughter anything else
than what came out of the letter. If your diligence isn't prompt, I'll be there before you.
Earl of Kent: I won't sleep, my lord, till I've delivered your letter. [Exeunt.]
Fool: If a man's brains were in his heels, was he not in danger of kibes?
Lear: Ay, boy.
Fool: Then I promise to be merry. Thy wit shall never go slip-shod.
Lear: Ha, ha, ha!
Fool: You must see that your other daughter uses you well; for though she is like a crab, she is
like an apple; yet I'm able to discern between them.
Lear: What can you tell me, boy?
Fool: She'll taste like a crab to a crab. Canst thou tell why one's nose stands in the middle of
one's face?
Lear: No.
Fool: Why, to keep one's eyes off either side's nose, so that what a man can’t smell out, he may
spy into.
Lear: I did her wrong.
Fool: Can you tell how an oyster makes its shell?
Lear: No.
Fool: Nor do I either; but I can tell why a snail has a house.
Lear: Why?
Fool: To put his head in and not to give it to his daughters and to leave his horns bare.
Lear: I'll forget my nature. So, kind of a father! Are my horses ready?
Fool: Your asses are dead. It's pretty obvious why the seven stars are only seven.
Lear: Because they aren't eight?
Fool: Yes, indeed. You would make a funny fool.
Lear: To try again perforce! Monster ingratitude!
Fool: If you were my fool, nuncle, I would’ve had you have beaten for being old before your
time.
Lear: How's that?
Fool: Thou should not have been old till thou had been wise.
Lear: Oh, let me not be mad! Not mad! Sweet heaven! Keep me in good spirits; I won't be
mad! [Enter a Gentleman.] How now? Are the horses ready?
Gentleman: Ready, my lord.
Lear: Come, boy.
Fool: She who's a maid now, and laughs at my departure, shall not be made for long, unless
things are cut shorter.
[Exeunt.]
 17

ACT II
 
SCENE I
A court within Gloucester's Castle
 
[Enter Edmund and Curan, meeting]
Edmund: Save thee, Curan.
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 evening.
Edmund: How came that?
Curan: Nay, I don't know. In the news abroad, I mean the whispered ones, for these are merely
ear-kissing arguments.
Edmund. Not I. Please, what are they?
Curan: Have you heard of any wars between the dukes of Cornwall and Albany?
Edmund: Not a word.
Curan: You may do so at any time. Fare you well, sir. [Exeunt.]
Edmund: Will the Duke be here tonight? The better! Best! This weaves its way into my
business. My father has set guard to take my brother; and I have one thing, a queasy question,
about which I must act. Briefness and fortune, work! Brother, a word! Descend! Brother, I
say! [Enter Edgar.] My father watches. Oh, sir, fly this place! Where you are hidden is known.
You now have the benefit of the night. Have you spoken against the Duke of Cornwall? He's on
his way, in the night, in haste, and Regan is with him. Have you heard about his party's
opposition to the Duke of Albany? Advise yourself.
Edgar: I'm sure it's not a word.
Edmund: I hear my father is coming. Pardon me! In cunning, I must draw my sword upon you.
You seem to have defended yourself; now give up. Yield! Come before my father. Light, ho,
here! Fly, brother. Torches, torch! So, farewell. [Exeunt Edgar.] Some blood drawn on me
would beget the opinion of my fiercer endeavor. [Stabs his arm.] I've seen drunkards do more
than this in sport. Father, father! Stop! Stop! No help?
[Enter Gloucester, and Servants with torches.]
Earl of Gloucester: Now, Edmund, where's the villain?
Edmund: Here he stood in the dark, his sharp sword out, mumbling wicked charms, conjuring
the moon to stand as an auspicious mistress.
Earl of Gloucester: But where is he?
Edmund: Look, sir, I bleed.
Earl of Gloucester: Where is the villain, Edmund?
Edmund: Fle this way, sir. When he couldn't.
Earl of Gloucester: After him, ho! Get after it. [Exeunt some Servants]. By no means, what?
Edmund: Persuade me of your Lordship's love; but when I told him that the gods bent all their
thunder, they spoke of the bond that bound the child to his father that was manifold and
strong. As he fell, he lunged at my body with his sword in a falling motion; but when he saw my
most frightened spirits, armed to the quarrel's right, roused by the noise I made, suddenly he fled.
Earl of Gloucester: Let him fly far. It shall remain uncaught and be ignored. The noble Duke,
my master, my worthy arch, and patron, comes tonight. By his authority, I'll proclaim that he
who finds him shall deserve our thanks for bringing the murderous caitiff to the stake; he that
conceals him, death.
 18

Edmund: When I dissuaded him from his intention and found him pliable to do it, I threatened
to expose him with curt words. He replied, "Thou unpossessing bastard, dost thou think, if I
should stand against thee, would the repose of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee give thy words
faith? No, what I should deny (as this I would; ay, though thou didst produce my very character),
I'd turn it all over to your suggestion, plot, and damned practice; and thou must make a dullard of
the world if they did not think the profits of my death were very pregnant and potential spurs to
make thee seek it."
Earl of Gloucester: A powerful and fastidious villain! Would he deny his letter? I never got
him. [Tucket within.] Hark, the Duke's trumpets! I don't know why he came. All ports I'll bar; the
villain shall not escape; the duke must grant me that. Besides, his picture I'll send far and near,
that all the kingdom may take note of him. You'll be a capable, loyal, and natural son of this land
if I let you.
[Enter Cornwall, Regan and Attendants.]
Duke of Cornwall: How are you, my noble friend? Since I came here (which I now call home),
I've heard strange news.
Regan: If this is true, all vengeance that falls short can be pursued. How are you, my Lord?
Earl of Gloucester: Oh Madam, that heart is cracked; it's cracked!
Regan: What, did my father's godson seek your life? Is he named after my father? Your Edgar?
Earl of Gloucester: Oh lady, lady, shame would have it hidden!
Regan: Was he not a companion of the riotous knights that came to my father?
Earl of Gloucester: I do know, madam. 'It is too bad, too bad!
Edmund: Yes, madam, he was with that consort.
Regan: No wonder, then, that he was ill-affected. 'Tis they have put him on the old man's death,
to have the expense and waste of his revenues. My sister told me about them this evening. I've
also been warned with such cautions that, if they come to stay with me, I won't be there.
Duke of Cornwall: Nor do I assure you, Regan. Edmund, I hear that you've shown your father a
childlike office.
Edmund: It was my duty, sir.
Earl of Gloucester: He betrayed his law practice, and he was wounded as a result.
Duke of Cornwall: Is he being pursued?
Earl of Gloucester: Ay, my kind lord.
Duke of Cornwall: If he is taken, he shall never more be feared for harm. I'll help you
accomplish your purpose with my strength. You, Edmund, whose virtue, and obedience merit so
much praise at this moment, shall be ours. To build such deep trust, we'll need you to embrace it.
Edmund: I'll serve you, sir, regardless.
Earl of Gloucester: For him, I thank your Grace.
Duke of Cornwall: You know why we came to visit you?
Regan: Thus, out of season, threading dark-eyed night. There are occasions, noble Gloucester, of
some import when we need your advice. Our father and sister wrote of differences, which I
thought it best to answer from our home. Several messengers attended the dispatch. You are a
good old friend, and we seek your advice on our business, which cries for immediate action.
Earl of Gloucester: I serve you, madam. Your Graces are right; you're welcome.
[Exeunt. Flourish.]
 19

SCENE II
Before Gloucester's castle
 
[Enter Kent and Oswald, successively.]
Oswald: Good morning to you, friend. Art of this house?
Earl of Kent: Ay.
Oswald: Where may we set our horses?
Earl of Kent: In the mire.
Oswald: Prithee, if you love me, tell me.
Earl of Kent: I don't love you.
Oswald: Why do I not care about you?
Earl of Kent: If I had you in Lipsbury Pinfold, I would make you care for me.
Oswald: Why do you use me this way? I know that you do.
Earl of Kent: Fellow, I know thee.
Oswald: What do you know me for?
Earl of Kent: A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly,
three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a Lily-livered, action-taking,
whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable finical rogue a one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that
would be a bawd in way of loyal service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar,
coward, and mongrel ; one whom I'll beat into clamorous whining if thou thy addition.
Oswald: Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, railing at one that's neither known of you nor
knows you!
Earl of Kent: What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny, thou know me! How long ago did I
beat you and trip you up before the King? [Draws his sword.] Draw me, you rogue! For, though
it is night, the moon shines. I'll make a sop of the moonshine for you. Draw, you whoreson-
cullionly barbermonger! Draw!
Oswald: Away! I have nothing to do with you.
Earl of Kent: Draw, you rascal! You come with letters against the King and intend to take
Vanity the puppet's place in her father's royalty. I'll carbonade your shanks! Draw, you rascal!
Come to your senses!
Oswald: Help, ho! Murther! Help!
Earl of Kent: Strike, you slave! Stand, rogue! Stand, you neat slave! Strike! [Beats him.]
Oswald: Help, ho! Murther! Murther!
[Enter Gloucester, Cornwall, Regan, Servants, and Edmund, with his rapier drawn.]
Edmund: How now? What's the matter? Parts [of them].
Earl of Kent: With you, young man, please! Come on, I'll flesh you! Come on, young master!
Earl of Gloucester: Weapons? Arms? What's the matter here?
Duke of Cornwall: Keep the peace in your lives! He dies, and that strikes again. What is the
matter?
Regan: The messengers of our sister and the king.
Duke of Cornwall: What's your difference? Speak.
Oswald: I'm short of breath, my lord.
Earl of Kent: No wonder, you've proven your valor. Cowardly rascal, nature disowns thee; a
tailor-made you.
Duke of Cornwall: You are a strange fellow. Does a tailor make a man?
Earl of Kent: Ay, a tailor, sir. A stonecutter or a painter couldn't have made him so ill if he had
 20

only worked two hours.

Duke of Cornwall: Speak up, how did your quarrel develop?
Oswald: This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared at the suit of his gray beard.
Earl of Kent: Thou whoreson zed! That unnecessary letter! My lord, if you'll give me leave, I'll
drag this unbolted villain into mortar and daub the walls of Jake with him. "Spare my grey
beard," will you?
Duke of Cornwall: Peace, Sirrah! Do you know you have no reverence?
Earl of Kent: Yes, sir, but anger has a privilege.
Duke of Cornwall: Why are you angry?
Earl of Kent: That such a slave as this should wear a sword, should be one who wears no
honesty. The smiling rogues as these often bite the sacred cords at their joins, which are difficult
to undo; they calm every passion in their lords' hearts which brings oil to fire and snow to their
colder moods; they renege, affirm, and change their halcyon leeks with every gale and vary of
their masters, not knowing (like dogs), but following. A plague upon your epileptic visage!
Smile at my speeches, as if I were a fool. If I, had you upon Sarum Plain, I'd drive you cackling
home to Camelot.
Duke of Cornwall: What, are you mad, old fellow?
Earl of Gloucester: How did you fall out? Say that.
Earl of Kent: No one has more antipathy than I, and I'm such a knave.
Duke of Cornwall: Why dost thou call him a knave? What was his fault?
Earl of Kent: His face doesn't look like mine.
Duke of Cornwall: No more does mine, or his or hers.
Earl of Kent: Sir, I am a plain person. I've seen better faces in my time than those that stand on
any shoulder that I see before me at this instant.
Duke of Cornwall: This is some fellow who, despite his praise for bluntness, does take on a
saucy roughness and constricts his clothing accordingly. He can’t flatter him! An honest mind
and plain. He must speak the truth! They'll take it, so if not, he's plain. Those types of knaves
have more craft, I know, and possess more corrupt ends than twenty silly-ducking observers who
do their duties well.
Earl of Kent: Sir. I grant you this allowance of your vast influence, which is like the flames of
radiant fire on the flickering visage of Phoebus.
Duke of Cornwall: What do you mean by this?
Earl of Kent: To step outside my dialect, which you make so much of. I know, sir. I am no
flatterer. In a plain accent, he beguiled you like a plain knave, which I, for one, shall not be,
though I may win your displeasure if I am entreated to.
Duke of Cornwall: What was the offense you gave him?
Oswald: I never gave him any. It pleased the King, his master, very late to strike at me, upon his
mistake; when he, conjunct, and flattering his displeasure, tripped me behind; being down,
insulted, railed and put upon him such a deal of man that worthied him, got praise from the King
for him attempting who was self-subdued; and, in the fleshment of this dread exploit, drew on
me here again.
Earl of Kent: Among these rogues and cowards, only Ajax is their fool.
Duke of Cornwall: Get the stocks! You are stubborn, ancient knave, you reverent braggart, we'll
teach you.
Earl of Kent: Sir. I'm too old to learn. Call off your stocks for me. I serve the King; in whose
service I was sent to you. You shall show no respect, nor show malice against the grace and
 21

person of my master, stocking his messenger.

Duke of Cornwall: Get the stocks! He shall sit until noon in honor of my life and honor.
Regan: Till noon? Till night, my Lord, and all night!
Earl of Kent: Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, you shouldn't use me so.
Regan: Sir, being his knave, I will.
Duke of Cornwall: This is a fellow of the same color as the one our sister speaks of. Come, take
away the stocks!
[Stocks brought out.]
Earl of Gloucester: I beg your grace not to do so. This is his chief fault, and the wise King, his
master, will check him on it. I think your low correction for pilfering is a shame, given that most
common trespasses are punished. As much as the King values his messenger, he must feel guilty
about having him restrained like this.
Duke of Cornwall: I'll answer that.
Regan: My sister may receive much harsher treatment than my sister, having her man abused
and assaulted for following her affairs. Put it in his legs. [Kent is put in stocks.]  Come, my gentle
lord, away.
[Exeunt all but Gloucester and Kent.]
Earl of Gloucester: I'm sorry for you, friend. Duke's disposition, known to all, won't be rubbed
nor stopped. I'll beg your pardon.
Earl of Kent: Don't pray, sir. I've watched and traveled hard. Some time I shall sleep out; the
rest I'll whistle. A wise man's fortune may follow him. Give you good morning!
Earl of Gloucester: It'll be regrettable; it was the duke’s fault. 
[Exeunt.]
Earl of Kent: From the Good King, who must approve the common saw, thou art out of
heaven's benediction to the warm sun! By your comfortable beams, I may read this letter.
Miracles rarely happen without misery. Tired and overwatched, please don't witness this
shameful lodging. It's Cordelia, who's learned of my obscure course [reads] "will find time from
this enormous state, seeking to give their remedies." Good night, Fortune. Smile once more. Turn
the wheel.
[Sleeps.]
 22

SCENE III
The open country
 
[Enter Edgar]
Edgar: I heard myself proclaim, and in the happy hollow of a tree, escaped the hunt. There's no
free port, no place apart from the most unusual vigilance, where it isn't guarded. If I can escape,
I'll preserve myself; and I thought that in contempt of man, I should take the base and poorest
form possible. My face will be grimed with filth; I'll blanket my loins, tie all my hair in knots
and with my exposed nakedness, I'll face the winds and persecutions of the sky. The country
gives me proof and precedent of Bedlam beggars who, with roaring voices, strike in their
numbed and mortified bear arms pins, wooden pricks, nails, and sprigs of rosemary; and with
this horrible object, from low farms, poor pelting villages, sheepcotes, and mills, sometimes with
lunatic bans, sometimes with prayers, enforce their charity. "Poor Turlygod! Poor Tom!" That's
something completely different! Edgar, I have nothing. 
[Exeunt.]
 23

SCENE IV
Before Gloucester's Castle, Kent in the stocks
 
[Enter Lear, Fool and Gentleman.]
Lear: 'Tis strange that they should so depart home, and not send back my messenger.
Gentleman: As I learned the night before, there was no point in removing this.
Earl of Kent: Hail to thee, noble master!
Lear: Ha! Makes thou, this shameful pastime?
Earl of Kent: No, my lord.
Fool: Ha, ha!" Look! He wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the head, dogs, and bears by the
neck; monkeys by the loins; and men by the legs. If he's not too fond of his legs.
Lear: What has been taken from thy place to set, you here?
Earl of Kent. It's both he and she, your son and daughter.
Lear: No.
Earl of Kent: Yes.
Lear: No, I say.
Earl of Kent: I say, yeah.
Lear: No, no, they wouldn't!
Earl of Kent: Yes, they have.
Lear: By Jupiter, I swear no!
Earl of Kent: By Juno, I swear!
Lear: They must not do it. They wouldn't, and couldn't, do that. It's more horrific than murder to
do so despite such a violent outrage. Count on me to resolve this with all modest haste; or they'll
force us to adopt this usage.
Earl of Kent: My Lord, when I was at their home, I did recommend your highness' letters to
them. I rose from the place where I stood kneeling, and a half-breathless messenger brought
Goneril his mistress' greetings; delivered letters, despite the intermission; they read the contents
of the letters, then summoned my horse, mounted it, told me to follow their sounds, gave me cold
looks; then met another messenger, whose welcome I perceived to have been tainted, having
been the very man who had displayed so saucily against me drew. A loud and cowardly cry
shook the house. The shame suffered by your son and daughter is worth the trespass they
committed.
Fool: It's not over yet if the wild geese fly that way. Fathers that wear rags make their children
blind; but fathers that bear bags shall see their children kind. Fortune, that arrant, ne'er turns the
key to the poor. But for all this, thou shalt have as many colors for thy daughters as thou canst
tell in a year.
Lear: Oh, how her heart swells! Hysterica passio! Down, climb sorrow! Your element is below!
Where is this daughter?
Earl of Kent: Sir, here I am.
Lear: Follow me not; stay here. [Exeunt.]
Gentleman: No offense, but what do you mean?
Earl of Kent: None. How come the King has such a small number?
Fool: Thou had well deserved it.
Earl of Kent: Why, fool?
Fool: We'll send you to school with an ant to teach you to do nothing in the winter. Those who
follow their noses are led by their eyes; but they're blind and not one of twenty can smell a
 24

stinking man. Let go of your hold when a massive wheel runs down a hill, lest it break your neck
by following it; but the great one that's upward, let him draw you after. Give me yours again
when a wise man gives you better counsel. Only fools should do it since a fool offers it. That sir,
who serves and seeks for gain, and follows form, will pack when it begins to rain and leave you
in the storm. But I'll tarry; the fool will stay, while the wise man will fly. The knave turns into a
fool and runs away; the fool is no knave, perdy.
Earl of Kent: Where did you learn this, fool?
Fool. Not in the stocks, fool.
[Enter Lear and Gloucester]
Lear: Did they deny speaking with me? They're sick? Are they weary? They traveled all night.
Images of revolt and flight! Please give me a better answer.
Earl of Gloucester: My dear Lord, you know the fiery quality of the duke; how unremovable
and fixed he is in his course.
Lear: Vengeance! Plague! Death! Confusion! Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloucester,
Gloucester, I would speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
Earl of Gloucester: Well, my right lord, I have informed them.
Lear: I informed them. Do you understand me, man?
Earl of Gloucester: Ay, my kind lord.
Lear: The King would speak with Cornwall; he would sit with his daughter and speak,
commanding her service. Are they informed of this? My breath and blood! Fiery? The fiery
Duke? Tell the hot Duke, "No, but not yet!" He isn't well. Infirmity ignores all the offices of
health. We aren't ourselves when nature, being oppressed, commands the mind to suffer from the
body. I'll forbear and have fallen out with my headier will to take the indisposed and sickly fit for
the sound man. Death to my state! Therefore, should he sit here? It is this act that convinces me
that this remotion of the duke is a purely practical act. Give me my servant forth. Tell the Duke
and his wife that I would speak with them now, presently. Let them hear me, or at their chamber
door. I'll pound the drum until it cries sleep to death.
Earl of Gloucester: I hope all is well between you. [Exeunt.]
Lear: Oh my, my heart, my rising heart! But down!
Fool: Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put 'em in the paste. She knapped
them off with a stick and cried, "Down, wantons, down!" It was her brother who, in pure
kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.
[Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester and the Servants.]
Lear: Good morning to you both.
Duke of Cornwall: Hail to your grace!
[Kent here's set at liberty.]
Regan: I'm glad to see your highness.
Lear: Regan. I think you're; I know why I have to think so. I would divorce you from the tomb
of your mother, burying an adulteress beneath it. [To Kent] Oh, are you free? Some other time
for that. Beloved Regan, your sister's naught. Oh, Regan, you've tied unkindness like a
vulture! [Lays his hand on his heart]. I can't speak to you. Oh, Regan!
Regan: I pray for your patience, sir. I hope you value her dessert more than she does her duty.
Lear: Say, how is that?
Regan: I can’t imagine my sister failing her obligation. If she restrained the riots of your
followers, it is on such ground, and to such a wholesome end, as to clear her from all blame.
Lear: My curses on her!
 25

Regan: Oh, sir, you're old! Nature in you stands on the very verge of her confinement. Someone
who knows your state better than you should rule and lead you. Thus, I pray that you return to
our sister, saying you have wronged her.
Lear: Ask her for forgiveness? Do you see how this becomes the house? "Dear daughter, I
confess that I am old. [Kneels.] Age is unnecessary. On my knees, I beg that I be given clothing,
a bed, and food."
Regan. No more, kindly sir! These are unsightly tricks. Return to my sister.
Lear: [rises] Never, Regan! She hath cut off half my train; looked black upon me; struck me
with her snake-like tongue upon the very heart. All the stored vengeance of heaven falls on her
ungrateful head! Strike her young bones, you lame!
Duke of Cornwall: Fie, sir, fie!
Lear: You nimble lightning, dart your blinding flames into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
your fen-sucked fogs, drawn by the powerful sun to fall and blast her pride!
Regan: Oh, the blest of gods! So will you wish me luck when I get a rash?
Lear: No, Regan; thou shalt never have my curse. Your soft heart shall not yield to harshness.
Her eyes are fierce, but they comfort, not burn. Your opposition to my entrance isn't in you. It
isn't in you to grudge my pleasures, to treat me short shrift, to bandy hasty words, and, finally, to
cut off my train. Thou shalt better know the offices of nature, the bond of childhood, the effects
of courtesy, the dues of gratitude. You haven't forgotten half of the kingdom I gave you.
Regan: Good sir, to the point.
[Tucket within.]
Lear: Who put my man in the stocks?
Duke of Cornwall: What trumpet is that?
Regan: I know my sister's. This confirms her letter, that she would soon be here. [Enter
Oswald.] Does your lady come?
Lear: This is a slave whose easy-borrowed pride dwells in the fickle grace of the woman he
follows. Out, varlet, from my sight!
Duke of Cornwall: What does your grace mean?
[Enter Goneril.]
Lear: Who supplied my servant? I hope you didn't know, Regan. Who came here? Oh heavens!
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway allows obedience, if you are old, make it your cause!
Send it down and take my part! [To Goneril] Are we not ashamed to look at this beard? Oh,
Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand?
Goneril: Why not by the hand, sir? How have I been offended? To find and use indiscreet terms
isn't a crime.
Lear: Oh no, you're too tough! Will you hold on? How come my man is in the stocks?
Duke of Cornwall: I set him there, sir; but his disorders deserved much less advancement.
Lear: You? Did you?
Regan: I pray for you, father. You seem weak. If, at the end of your month, you'll return and
stay with my sister, dismissing half your train, then come to me. I am now away from home and
without the supplies necessary for your entertainment.
Lear: Can you return to her and dismiss the fifty men? No, rather, I abjure all roofs, and choose
to fight the enmity of the and, to be a comrade with the wolf and owl, necessity's sharp pinch!
Come back with her? Hot-blooded France, take my eldest daughter as you will, and I'll kneel
before his throne, begging for a decent pension to keep the base life afoot. Return with her?
Persuade me to be a slave and servant to this detested groom.
 26

[Points at Oswald.]
Goneril: At your choice, sir.
Lear: I pray, daughter, you don't make me mad. My child, I won't trouble you. Farewell. We'll
no longer meet or see one another. But you're my flesh, my blood, my daughter; or rather, a
disease that's in my flesh, which I must call mine. You are a boil, a plague sore, an embossed
carbuncle in my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide you. Let shame come when it will. I don't call
it that. I do not bid the Thunder-bearer shoot, nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. I can be
patient. I can stay with Regan and my hundred knights.
Regan: Not altogether so. I haven't looked for you, nor have I provided an appropriate welcome.
Give ear, sir, to my sister; for those that mix reason and passion must be content to think you old.
She knows what she does.
Lear: Is this well-spoken?
Regan: I dare avouch for it, sir. What, fifty followers? Is it not well? What do you need more of?
So many, so that both charge and danger speak against them? How can many people, under two
commands, hold amity? 'It is difficult, almost impossible.
Goneril: Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance from those that she calls servants, or
from mine?
Regan: Why not, my lord? If they chanced to slack off, we could control them. If you will come
to me (for now I spy a danger), I entreat you to bring only five-and-twenty. I'll no longer give
notice or place.
Lear: I gave you all.
Regan: And in good time you gave it!
Lear: I have appointed you my guardians, my depositaries, but with a reservation to be followed
by a number. What, must I come to you with five-and-twenty, Regan? So, you said, you said so?
Regan: And speak to me again, my lord. No more with me.
Lear: Those wicked creatures do seem exalted when others are more wicked; not being the most
wicked is an honor. [To Goneril] I'll come with you. Although thou art fifty, thou art twenty-five
times her love.
Goneril: Hear me, my lord. Do you have five-and-twenty, ten, or five needs in a house where
twice as many have the authority to tend to you?
Regan: What do I need?
Lear: Oh, the reason isn't needed! The smallest things are our lowest beggars. Allow nature to
do more than it can. Man's life is as cheap as a beast's. If only to keep you warm, you would be
gorgeous. But nature doesn't care what you wear, even if it keeps you warm. But for true need,
God, give me patience! That patience I need! You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, as full
of grief, as age, wretched in both. If it, is you that stirs these daughters' hearts against their father,
fool me not so much as 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'll have such revenge on
you both, that all the world shall know that I'll do such things. What they are yet, I don't know;
but they shall be the terrors of the earth! Do you think I'll weep? No, I'll not weep. I have full
cause to weep; but this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, or I'll weep. Oh fool, I'll
go mad!
[Exeunt Lear, Gloucester, Kent, and Fool. Storm and tempest.]
Duke of Cornwall: Let us withdraw; it'll be a storm.
Regan: This house is small; the old man and his people can’t be well cared for.
Goneril: It's his fault; he's put himself to rest and must taste his folly.
 27

Regan: I'll receive him gladly, but not with one follower.
Goneril: So am I purposed? Where's my Lord of Gloucester?
Duke of Cornwall: Followed the old man forth. [Enter Gloucester.] He's returned.
Earl of Gloucester: The King is in a high rage.
Duke of Cornwall: Where is he heading?
Earl of Gloucester: He calls to the horse; but will I know where?
Duke of Cornwall: It's wise to give him a way; he leads himself.
Goneril: My Lord, enjoin him to stay by all means.
Earl of Gloucester: Ah, the night comes on, and the bleak wind ruffles sorely. For many miles
around, not a bush.
Regan: Oh, sir, to willful men, the injuries they cause are their teachers. Shut your doors. There's
a desperate train following him, and he's apt to be abused by them and wisdom urges him to fear
what they do.
Duke of Cornwall: Shut up your doors, my lord; it's a wild night. My Regan counsels well.
Come out of the storm.
[Exeunt.]
 28

ACT III

SCENE I
A health

[Enter Kent and a Gentleman at several doors.]

Earl of Kent: Who's there, besides foul weather?
Gentleman: One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
Earl of Kent: I know you. Where's the King?
Gentleman: Contending with the fretful elements; bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, or
swell the curled waters above the main, that things might change or cease; tears his white hair,
which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 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 heep their fur dry,
unbonneted he runs, and bids what will take all.
Earl of Kent: But who is with him?
Gentleman: None but the fool, who labors to outjest his heart-struck injuries.
Earl of Kent: Sir, I do know you, and dare upon the warrant of my note commend a dear thing
to you. There is division (Although yet the face of it be covered with mutual cunning) 'twixt
Albany and Cornwall; who have (as who have not, that their talented stars throned 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, 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, 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 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 this office to you.
Gentleman: I will talk further with you.
Earl of Kent: No, do not. For confirmation that I am much more than my out-wall, open this
purse and take 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.
Gentleman: Give me your hand. Have you no more to say?
Earl of Kent: 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.
[Exeunt, severally]
 29

SCENE II
Another part of the heath
 
[Enter Lear  and Fool.]
Lear: Blow, wind and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! Your cataracts and hurricanes, spout till
you've drenched our steeples and drowned! You sulfurous and thought-executing fires, vaunt-
couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
strikes flat; the thick rotundity of the world, cracks; Nature's molds, all germans spill at once and
that makes an ungrateful man!
Fool: Oh, no, holy water in a dry house is better than this rainwater out the door. In, and ask for
your daughter's blessing! Here's a night for neither wise nor fools.
Lear: Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! Spout, rain! No rain, wind, thunder, or fire for my
daughters. I tax you, your elements, with unkindness. Let it be your horrible pleasure that I never
owed you a kingdom, called, "you children." Here I stand, your slave, a poor, infirm, weak, and
despised old man. Yet you're called servile ministers, who bring two pernicious daughters to
your valiant fight against an old and white head like this! Oh! Oh, it's foul!
Fool: He who has a house to put his head in has a handsome headpiece. So, beggars marry many.
He who makes his toe what his heart should be, shall cry from a corn and will awake from his
sleep. For there was never a fair woman, but she created mouths in a glass.
[Enter Kent.]
Lear: No. I'll be the model of patience; I'll say nothing.
Earl of Kent: Who's there?
Fool: Marry, here's grace and a codpiece; that's a wise man and a fool.
Earl of Kent: Alas, sir, are you here? Things that love, love, not such nights as these. The
wrathful skies gallow wanderers and force them to remain in caves. Since I was a man, such
sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
remember hearing. Man's nature can’t bear this affliction, nor the fear.
Lear: Let the mighty gods that keep this dreadful pudder over our heads find their enemies now.
Fear, you wretched one, whose crimes are unpunished. Hide thee, the bloody hand; the perjurer;
the incestuous man of virtue. Caitiff, in pieces, shakes that undercover and convenient hold on a
man's life. Close your pent-up guilt, hide your continents, and cry out for these dreadful
summoners' grace. I am a man more sinned against than sinning.
Earl of Kent: Alack, bareheaded? Gracious, my lord, close by is a house; some friendship will
help you against the tempest. Repose you there, while I return to this difficult house (more
difficult than the stones with which it was built, which still refuses to let me in) and force their
scanty courtesy upon them.
Lear: My wits began to turn. Come on, my boy. How are you, my boy? Is art cold? I have a cold
myself. Where is this straw, my friend? Our necessities can make ugly things beautiful; it is an
art. Come to your hovel. Poor fool and knave. I have a part of my heart that's sorry for you.
Fool: [sings] He that has a small wit about the wind and the rain must be content with his lot, for
the rain rains every day.
Lear: True, my obedient boy. Come, bring us to this hovel.
[Exeunt Lear and Kent].
Fool: This is a brave night to cool a courtesan. As I leave, I prophesy: When priests are more
concerned with the word than with the body; when brewers mix water in their malt; when nobles
tutor tailors, when heretics aren't burned. But wench's suitors; when all law cases are right;
 30

neither squire nor poor knight in debt; when usurers tell their gold on the field, and bawds and
whores walk the churchyards; then Albion will be in chaos. It's then, that he who lives to see that
going shall use his feet. Merlin shall fulfill this prophecy, for I exist before his time.
[Exeunt.]
 31

SCENE III
Gloucester's Castle
 
[Enter Gloucester and Edmund.]
Earl of Gloucester: Alack, alack, Edmund. I don't like this unnatural deal! When I asked for
their leave so that I might consider him, they took from me using my own house. They charged
me, on pain of perpetual displeasure; neither to speak of him, entreat for him nor in any way
sustain him.
Edmund: Most savage and unnatural!
Earl of Gloucester: Leave; say nothing. The dukes are divided, and it's more serious than that. I
received a letter this evening that it is dangerous to speak. I have locked the letter in my closet.
King Baldwin's injury at home will be repaid; part of a power is already at work; we must serve
the King. I'll relieve him. Please continue to tell the duke that my charity is not for him. If he
asks me, I'll be tired and need to rest. The King, my old master, must be relieved even if I die.
No one else threatens me. There's something odd about you, Edmund. I pray you're careful.
[Exeunt.]
Edmund: This will be revealed soon, as well as that letter. It seems fair and will win me back all
that my father lost. The young rise when the old die.
[Exeunt.]
 32

SCENE IV
The heath before a hovel
 
[Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool.]
Earl of Kent: Here's the place, my lord. Good my lord, enter. The tyranny of open night is too
harsh for Dor to endure.
Lear: Let me be alone.
Earl of Kent: Okay, my Lord, enter here.
Lear: Will you break my heart?
Earl of Kent: I'd rather break my own arm. Good my lord, enter.
Lear: Thou fanciest invading us like a violent storm. So, it is with you; but where the more
serious illness has been treated, the lesser illness isn't felt. Thou shalt shun a bear; but if thy
flight lies toward the raging sea, thou shalt meet the bear in the mouth. When the mind is free,
the body is delicate. The tempest in my mind robs me of all feelings and preserves what beats
there. Filial ingratitude. Isn't it fair that this mouth should tear this hand apart for picking food up
too? But I'll punish you! No, I'll no longer cry. Such a night to shut me out! Pour on; I'll endure.
On such a night as this, Oh Regan, Goneril! Your old kind father, whose kind heart gave it all!
Oh, that's the way madness works; let me shun that! No more of that.
Earl of Kent: Okay, my Lord, enter here.
Lear: Take time to go within yourself; seek your own ease. This storm won't give me time to
contemplate things that would hurt me more. But I'll go in. [To the Fool] Come on, boy; come
first. Get in, your houseless poor. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. [Exeunt Fool] Poor naked
wretches, wherever you are, that bide the pelting of this pitiless storm; how shall your houseless
heads and unfed sides, your looped and blinded raggedness, defend you from seasons such as
these? I haven't taken proper care of this! Make physical efforts to feel what wetches feel to
shake off the extravagance for them and show the heavens more justice.
Edgar: [within] Fathom and half! Fathom and half! Poor Tom!
[Enter Fool from the hovel].
Fool: Come not in here, nuncle; here's a spirit. Help me, help me!
Earl of Kent: Give me your hand. Who's there?
Fool. A spirit, a spirit! He says his name is Tom, the poor man.
Earl of Kent: What is it that you grumble about in the straw? Come forth.
[Enter Edgar, disguised as a madman].
Edgar: Away! The foul fiend follows me! Through the sharp hawthorn blows the chilly wind.
Hum! Go to your cold bed, and warm yourself.
Lear: Hast thou given all to thy two daughters, and come to this?
Edgar: Who gives anything to poor Tom? To whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and
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 of heart, to ride on a bay
trotting horse over four-inch bridges, to take his own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five wits!
Tom's cold. Oh, do de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, star-blasting and taking! Do
poor Tom some charity; the foul fiend vexes him. I could have him now and again and again!
[Storm still.]
Lear: What, have his daughters brought him to this? Could you save nothing? Did you give
them all?
Fool: No, he reserved a blanket, or else we would've all been shamed.
 33

Lear: Now all the plagues that follow men's faults upon thine daughters!
Earl of Kent: He hath no daughters, sir.
Lear: Death, traitor! Nothing could have subdued nature to such a lowness but his unkind
daughters. Is it the fashion that discarded fathers should have a bit of mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! It was this flesh that produced those pelican daughters.
Edgar: Pillicock sat on Pillicock's Hill. Allow, allow, loo, loo!
Fool: This chilly night will turn us all into fools and madmen.
Edgar: Take heed of the foul fiend; obey your parents; keep your word justly; swear not;
commit not with man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweetheart in a proud array. Tom's cold.
Lear: What have you been doing?
Edgar: A servingman, proud in heart and mind, who curled my hair, wore gloves in my cap,
served the lust of my mistress' heart and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as
I spoke words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven; one who slept in the contriving of
lust, and woke to do it. The wine, dice, and a woman out-paramoured the Turk in my eyes. False
of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; a hog in sloth, a fox in stealth, a wolf in greediness, a dog
in madness, a lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray your poor
heart to a woman. Keep thy foot out of the brothel, thy hand out of the locker and thy pen out of
the bank's book and defy the foul fiend. Still, through the hawthorn blows the chilly wind; it
says, suum, mun, hey, no, nonny. Dolphin, my boy, my boy, Sessa! Let him trot by.
[Storm still.]
Lear: Why would you rather endure this extreme of the skies with your uncovered body than to
be at peace in your grave? Is man not much more than this? Think of him well. The worm has no
silk; the beast no hide; the sheep no wool, and the cat no perfume. Ha! Here are three things that
are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself; the unaccommodated man is no more than such a
poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! Come on, unbutton it here.
[Tears at his clothes.]
Fool: Prithee, nuncle, be content! It is a naughty thing to swim in. Now a small fire in a wild
field was like an old lecher's heart, a small spark, all the rest of the body cold. Look here comes a
walking fire.
[Enter Gloucester with a torch.]
Edgar: This is the foul spirit, Flibbertigibbet. Starting at curfew, he walks until the first clock.
As he makes the Web and pin, squints the eye, and makes the harelip, he mildews the wheat and
harms the poor creature of the earth. He met the nightmare three times; he met the witch nine
times; he set her alight and let her wretch be and he anointed thee, Witches!
Earl of Kent: How are you?
Lear: What's he doing?
Earl of Kent: Who's there? What is't do you seek?
Earl of Gloucester: What are you doing? Your names?
Earl of Gloucester: Is there no better company?
Edgar: The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman! Modo, he's called, and Mahu.
Earl of Gloucester: Our flesh and blood have grown so vile, my lord, that it does hate what gets
it.
Edgar: Poor Tom's cold.
Earl of Gloucester: Step in with me. My duty can’t ask you to obey all your daughters' difficult
commands. Suppose they tell me to bar my doors and let the night engulf you. However, I've
come to seek you out and bring you to where fire and food are ready for you.
 34

Lear: First, let me talk with this philosopher. What is the cause of thunder?
Earl of Kent: Okay, my lord, take his offer; go into the house.
Lear: I'll speak to the same Theban. What's your study?
Edgar: How to prevent the fiend and kill vermin.
Lear: Let me ask you one thing in private.
Earl of Kent: My Lord, allow him to leave. His wits begin to unsettle him.
Earl of Gloucester: Canst thou blame him? [Storm still.] His daughters sought his death. That's
terrific, Kent! He said it would be like this: poor banished man! Did you say the king is growing
mad? I'll tell you, friend, I'm almost mad myself. I had a son, now outlawed by my blood. My
life is in his hands, but it's getting late. I loved him as a friend and his son as a son. My grief has
crazed my wits. What a night it was! I beseech your grace.
Lear: Ah, cry for mercy, sir. Noble philosopher, your company.
Edgar: Tom's cold.
Earl of Gloucester: In, fellow, there, into the hovel; keep thee warm.
Lear: Come on, let's do it all.
Earl of Kent: This way, my lord.
Lear: With him! I'll stay with my philosopher.
Earl of Kent: Well, my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.
Earl of Gloucester: Take him on.
Earl of Kent: Sirrah, come on; come along with us.
Lear: Come, loyal Athenians.
Earl of Gloucester: No words, no words! Hush.
Edgar: To the dark tower: his word was still fi, foh and fum! I smell the blood of a British man.
[Exeunt.]
 35

SCENE V
Gloucester's Castle
 
[Enter Cornwall and Edmund.]
Duke of Cornwall: I'll have my revenge before I depart his house.
Edmund: My lord, I may be censured for showing such loyalty; which is a thought, I fear.
Duke of Cornwall: I now perceive it wasn't only your brother's evil disposition that made him
seek his death, but a provoking merit, set at work by a reproveable badness in himself.
Edmund: How malicious is my fortune that I must repent to be just? The letter the spoke of,
approving him for the advantages of France, is this one. Oh heavens! It wasn't my treason!
Duke of Cornwall: Come with me to the Duchess.
Edmund: If the matter of this paper is certain, you have mighty business in hand.
Duke of Cornwall: True or false, it hath made you Earl of Gloucester. Seek out where your
father is, so that he may be ready for our apprehension.
Edmund: [aside] If I find him comforting the King, it'll increase his suspicion more fully.
Though the conflict between loyalty and blood is painful, I'll persevere.
Duke of Cornwall: I have faith in you, and thou shalt find a dearer father in my love.
[Exeunt.]
 36

SCENE VI
A farmhouse near Gloucester's Castle
 
[Enter Gloucester, Lear, Kent, Fool, and Edgar.]
Earl of Gloucester: This is better than the open air; take it, thankfully. I'll find comfort in
whatever I can. I won't be far from you.
Earl of Kent: All the power of his wits has given way to his impatience. The gods reward your
kindness!
[Exeunt Gloucester].
Edgar: Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness. Beware,
innocent, of the foul fiend.
Fool: Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman is a gentleman or a yeoman.
Lear: A king, a king!
Fool: No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman for his son; for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son
as a gentleman before him.
Lear: To have a thousand red-burning spits come hizzing in upon 'em.
Edgar: The foul fiend bites my back.
Fool: He's mad that he trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse's health, a boy's love or a fraud's
oath.
Lear: It shall be done; I'll arrange them straight. [To Edgar] Come sit down here, most learned
judge. [To the Fool] Thou, wise sir, sit here. Now, you she-foxes!
Edgar: Look where he stands and glares! Want’st, do thou eye at trial, madam? Come over the
bridge. Bessy, to me.
Fool: Her boat has a leak, and she must not speak about why she dares not come over to you.
Edgar: The foul fiend haunts poor Tom with the voice of a nightingale. Hoppedance cries in
Tom's belly for two white herrings. Croak not, black angel; I have no food for thee.
Earl of Kent: How are you, sir? Stand, you are not so amazed. Will you lie down and
rest upon the cushions?
Lear: I'll see their trial first. Bring in their evidence. [To Edgar] Thou, robed man of justice,
take thy place. [To the Fool] And thou, his yokefellow of equity, sit by his side. [To Kent] You
are on the commission, so sit down too.
Edgar: Let us deal justly. How wake thou, jolly shepherd? Thy sheep are in the corn; and for
one blast of thy minikin's mouth, thy sheep shall take no harm. Purr! The cat is gray.
Lear: Arraign her first. 'Tis Goneril. Before this honorable assembly, I take my oath. She kicked
the poor King, her father.
Fool: Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril?
Lear: She can’t deny it.
Fool: Cry for mercy. I took you for a joint stool.
Lear: And here's another, whose warped looks proclaim what store her heart is made of. Stop
her there! Arms, arms! Sword! Fire! There's a lot of corruption happening right now! Why hast
thou let her escape?
Edgar: Bless thy five wits!
Earl of Kent: Oh, pity! Where is the patience now that you have so often boasted of retaining?
Edgar: [aside] My tears begin to affect my counterfeiting so much that my tears will mar it.
Lear: See, the dogs, trays. Blanch and Sweetheart bark at me.
Edgar: Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs! You and thy mouth can become
 37

poisonous when you bite; mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim, hound or spaniel, brach or lym,
bobtail tyke, or trundle-tail-Tom will make them weep and wail; for I throw my head thus and all
the dogs leap the hatch and flee. Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes, fairs, and market
towns. Poor Tom, your horn is dry.
Lear: Then let them anatomize Regan. See what breeds in her heart. Is there any reason for these
difficult hearts? [To Edgar] You, sir, I entertain you for one of my hundred; however, I don't like
the fashion of your garments. You'll say they're Persian attire but let them be changed.
Earl of Kent: Good lord, lie here and rest awhile.
Lear: Make no noise. Make no noise; draw the curtains. So, so, so. We'll go out for supper in the
morning. So, so, so.
Fool: And I'll go to bed at noon.
[Enter Gloucester.]
Earl of Gloucester: Come on, friend. Where is the king, my master?
Earl of Kent: Here, sir, trouble him; not; his wits are lost.
Earl of Gloucester: My friend, I pray you take him in your arms. I have overheard a plot to kill
him. There's a litter ready; lay him in it and drive towards Dover, friend, where you'll find both
welcome and protection. Take your master's life. If you linger for half an hour, you and those
who offer to defend him face a certain loss. Take it up, take it! Follow me; that will at least help
you to act quickly.
Earl of Kent: Oppressed nature sleeps. Your rest may yet have cured your aching senses, and if
convenience doesn't allow, they may still need to be cured. [To the Fool] Come, help to bear the
master. You must not stay behind.
Earl of Gloucester: Come, come, away!
[Exeunt all but Edgar].
Edgar: When our betters see us bearing our woes, we scarcely think of our miseries as our foes.
It is he who suffers most in his mind, leaving free things and happy shows behind, but this
suffering passes when grief bears mates and fellowship. How light and portable my pain is, when
that which makes me bend makes the King bow. He had children like me! Tom, away! Mark the
high noises, and beware when a false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee, in thy just
proof repeals and reconciles thee. What will happen later tonight? Safe scape the King! Lurk,
lurk. 
[Exeunt.]
 38

SCENE VII
Gloucester's Castle
 
[Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund, and  Servants.]
Duke of Cornwall: [to Goneril] Send this letter soon to your lord and husband. Show him this
letter. The French army has landed. Seek out the traitor, Gloucester.
[Exeunt some of the Servants.]
Regan: Hang him instantly.
Goneril: Pluck out his eyes.
Duke of Cornwall: Leave him to my displeasure. Stay connected with our sister company,
Edmund. The revenge we're bound to take upon your traitorous father isn't fit for your beholding.
Inform the Duke where you are planning to make the most festive preparations. We're bound to
like it. Our posts will be swift and intelligent. Farewell, dear sister; farewell, my Lord of
Gloucester. [Enter Oswald.] How now? Where's the King?
Oswald: My Lord of Gloucester hath sent him. Some five or six and thirty of his knights, hot
questrists after him, met him at the gate; who, with some other of the lord's dependants, marched
with him towards Dover, where they boast of having well-armed friends.
Duke of Cornwall: Get horses for your mistress.
Goneril: Farewell, sweet Lord and sister.
Duke of Cornwall: Edmund, farewell. [Exeunt Goneril, Edmund, and Oswald.] Go seek the
traitor Gloucester; pin him like a thief and bring him before us. [Exeunt other Servants.] Though
we may not pass upon his life without the form of justice, yet our power shall do a courtesy to
our wrath. This is because men may blame, but not control. [Enter Gloucester, brought in by two
or three.] Who's there? The traitor?
Regan: Ingrateful fox! It was him.
Duke of Cornwall: Bind fast his corky arms.
Earl of Gloucester: What do you mean, your graces? I'm pleased to have you as my guests. No
foul play here, friends.
Duke of Cornwall: Bind him, I say.
[Servants bind him.]
Regan: Hard, hard. Oh, filthy traitor!
Earl of Gloucester: As unmerciful as you are, I'm none of your business.
Duke of Cornwall: Tie him to this chair. Villain, thou shalt find.
[Regan plucks his beard.]
Earl of Gloucester: By the kind gods, you pluck my beard.
Regan: So white, and such a traitor!
The Earl of Gloucester: Naughty lady, I accuse you of ripping those hairs off my chin. I'm your
host. My hospitality can’t be ruffled by a robber's hand. What will you do?
Duke of Cornwall: Come, sir, what letters have you had from France?
Regan: Be direct, for we know the truth.
Duke of Cornwall: And what confederacy have you with the traitors of the kingdom?
Regan: To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? Speak.
Earl of Gloucester: I have a letter, guessingly written, that came from someone of a neutral
heart and not from one opposed.
Duke of Cornwall: Cunning.
Regan: And false.
 39

Duke of Cornwall: Where hast thou sent the King?

Earl of Gloucester: To Dover.
Regan: Wherefore to Dover? Were thou not charged at peril?
Duke of Cornwall: Why Dover? Let him first answer that.
Earl of Gloucester: I'm tied to the stake, and I must succeed.
Regan: Wherefore to Dover, sir?
Earl of Gloucester: Because I wouldn't see your cruel nails pluck out his poor old eyes, nor
your fierce sister in his anointed flesh stick out boarish fangs. On that hell-black day, the sea,
with a storm like that, would have buoyed him up and quenched his steeled fires. Yet, poor old
heart, he begs the heavens to rain. If wolves had howled at your gate at that stern time, you
should have said, "Good porter, turn the key." Everyone else did. But I shall see the vengeance of
the winged overtake such children.
Duke of Cornwall: See thou never. Fellows hold the chair. Then I'll set foot upon thy eyes.
Earl of Gloucester: Give me some help! Oh, cruel! Oh, ye gods!
Regan: One side will mock the other. The others too!
Duke of Cornwall: If you see vengeance.
Servant 1: Hold your hand, my lord! I have served you ever since I was a child, but better
service has never been done to you than now to bid you hold.
Regan: How are you now, dog?
Servant 1: If you did wear a beard on your chin, I'd shake it in this quarrel.
Regan: What do you mean?
Duke of Cornwall: My villain! Draw and fight.
Servant 1: Okay, come on, take the chance of anger.
Regan: Give me your sword. A peasant stands and takes a sword and runs at him from behind.
Servant 1: Oh, I'm slain! He may have one eye left to see something mischievous. Oh! He dies.
Duke of Cornwall: Make it visible, prevent it. Get out, vile jelly! Where's your luster now?
Earl of Gloucester: All dark and comfortless! Where's my son Edmund? Edmund, ignite all the
sparks of nature to stop this awful act.
Regan: Out, you treacherous villain! Call on him who hates you. It was he who told us of your
treason; he's too kind to pity you.
Earl of Gloucester: Oh, my follies! Then Edgar was abused. Kind gods, forgive me that, and
prosper him!
Regan: Go thrust him out at the gates, and let him smell his way to Dover. [Exeunt one with
Gloucester.] How are you, my lord? How do you look?
Duke of Cornwall: I've been hurt. Follow me, lady. Turns out that eyeless villain. Put this slave
on the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace. Untimely comes this hurt. Give me your arm.
[Exeunt Cornwall, led by Regan].
Servant 2: I don't care what wickedness I commit if this man turns out well.
Servant 3: If she lives long enough to meet the old course of death, then every woman will
become a monster.
Servant 2: Let's follow the old Earl and let the bedlam lead him. In his roguish madness,
anything is possible.
Servant 3: Go thou. I'll fetch some flax and the whites of eggs to apply to his bleeding face.
Now heaven help him!
[Exeunt.]
 40

ACT IV

SCENE I
The heath

[Enter Edgar.]
Edgar: Yet better thus, and known to be considered, then still considered, and flattered. Even
worse, the lowest and most rejected thing in fortune is fully alive and continues to live without
fear. Lamentably, the situation has returned to laughter. Welcome then, unsubstantial air that I
embrace! Those you have blown down to the depths owe nothing to you. [Enter Gloucester, led
by an old man.] But who came here? My father poorly led. World, world, Oh world! But for
those strange mutations that make us hate you, life wouldn't yield to age.
Old Man: Oh, my gracious lord. I've been your tenant, and your father's tenant, for these four
score years.
Earl of Gloucester: Away, get thee away! Good friend, be well. Your comforts can do me no
good at all; they may hurt.
Old Man: You can’t see your way.
Earl of Gloucester: I had no way and therefore wanted no eyes; I stumbled when I saw. Our
means keep us safe, and our faults prove our value. Ah, son, the food of your abused father's
wrath! Could I still see you in my touch? I'd say I had eyes again!
Old Man: So how now? Who's there?
Edgar: [aside] Oh gods! Who can't say "I am at my most difficult"? I'm angrier than ever
before.
Old Man: It's a mad Tom.
Edgar: [aside] And it may be yet to come. The nightmare is over when we can say, "This is the
end."
Old Man: Fellow, where goes?
Earl of Gloucester: Is it a beggarman?
Old Man: Madman and beggar too.
Earl of Gloucester: He had some reason, or else he couldn't beg. Last night's storm I saw a
fellow like that, which made me think a man was a worm. When my son entered my mind, my
mind was not yet friends with him. I've heard more since. We are to the gods as flies are to
wanton boys. They kill us for our sport.
Edgar: [aside] How should this be? Bad is the trade that must play the fool to sorrow, angering
itself and others. Bless thee, master!
Earl of Gloucester: Is that the naked fellow?
Old Man: Ay, my lord.
Earl of Gloucester: Then prithee get thee down. If for my sake, you'll overtake us, a mile or two
on the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love; and bring some covering for this naked soul,
whom I'll entreat to lead me.
Old Man: Ah, sir, he's mad!
Earl of Gloucester: It is a time of plague when madmen lead the blind. Do as I bid you, or
rather, do as you please. depart.
Old Man: I'll bring him the most suitable pair that I have. Come on, that's what it'll do. [Exeunt.]
Earl of Gloucester: Sirrah, naked fellow.
Edgar: Poor Tom's cold. [Aside] I can’t elaborate.
 41

Earl of Gloucester: Come on, fellow.

Edgar: [aside] And yet I must. Bless your sweet eyes; they bleed.
Earl of Gloucester: Do you know the way to Dover?
Edgar: Both stile and gate, horse path and footpath. Poor Tom, he's been scared out of his mind.
The foul fiend blesses thee, honest man's son! Poor Tom has had five friends at once: Obidicut,
the god of lust; Hobbididence, the king of dumbness; Mahu, a thief; Modo, a killer; and
Flibbertigibbet, a mopper, who since possesses chambermaids and waiting women. So, bless
thee, master!
Earl of Gloucester: Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues have sealed. I'm
humbled by all the strokes. That I am wretched makes you happy. Heavens, deal so still! Let the
unnecessary and lustful be the ones who slave to your ordinance; for they won't see it. Due to
your power not being felt immediately, distribution should undo excess, and each person has
enough. Do you know Dover?
Edgar: Ah, master.
Earl of Gloucester: There's a cliff who’s high and bending head looks fearfully into the depths.
You do bear some misery, but I'll soothe it with something rich about me. From that point on, I'll
have no more need.
Edgar: Give me your arm. Poor Tom will lead you.
[Exeunt.]
 42

SCENE II
Before Albany's palace
 
[Enter Goneril and Edmund.]
Goneril: Welcome, my lord. I marveled that our mild husband hadn't met us on the way. [Enter
Oswald.] Now, where's your master?
Oswald: Madam, within, but never a man, so changed. I told him about the army that had
landed. He smiled at it. Upon hearing you were coming, he said, "The result." of Gloucester's
treachery and the loyal service of his son. Then he called me and informed me I had turned the
wrong side out. What he should dislike most seems pleasant to him; it's almost offensive.
Goneril: [to Edmund] Don't push it. It is the cowish terror of his spirit that he dares not
undertake. A wrong will bind him to an answer. Wishes along the way may be effective. Back,
Edmund, to my brother. He gathers and conducts his power. I must change arms at home and
give the distaff into my husband's hands. This trusted servant shall pass between us. Your
mistress will soon command you if you venture on her behalf. Wear this. [Gives a favor.] Spare
speech. Decline your head. This kiss, if it could talk, would lift your spirits into the air.
Conceive, and fare thee well.
Edmund: Is in the ranks of death! [Exeunt.]
Goneril: My most dear Gloucester! Oh, the difference between man and man! You, my fool,
usurp my body.
Oswald: Madam, here comes my Lord. [Exeunt.]
[Enter Albany.]
Goneril: I've earned this whistle.
Duke of Albany: Oh Goneril, you aren't worth the dust that the rude wind blows in your face! I
fear your disposition. Nature that questions its origin can’t be defined as certain. As she slivers
and distils from her sap, she'll wither and become of deadly use.
Goneril: No more! The text is foolish.
Duke of Albany: Wisdom and goodness are vile to the vile; filthy savor only themselves. What
have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what have you done? His reverence would move even the
head-lugged bear, the most barbarous, most degenerate man, and he would make you mad. Could
my kind brother allow you to do it? A man, a prince, benefited from him! If the heavens don't
send their visible spirits soon to tame these vile offenses, they'll come. Humanity must perforce
prey on itself, like monsters of the deep.
Goneril: Milk-livered man! That bear a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; who hast in thy
brows, an eye discerning thine honor from thine suffering; that not knowing fools, pity those
villains who have been punished before they've done their mischief. Where's your drum? As he
flies his banners in our quiet land, with plumed helm, the threat of his state becomes clear and as
thou, a moral fool, sits still and criests' alack, why?
Duke of Albany: See thyself, serpent! Deformity in the fiend is not so horrifying as in women.
Goneril: Oh, vain fool!
Duke of Albany: Changed and covered up! Bemonster, not your feature! If it weren't for my
ability to let these hands obey my blood, they would be apt enough to dislocate and tear your
flesh and bones. However, if you are a foe, a woman's shape protects you.
Goneril: Marry, your manhood mew!
[Enter a Gentleman.]
Duke of Albany: What news?
 43

Gentleman: Oh, my honorable lord, the Duke of Cornwall is dead, slain by his servant. He was
about to cut off Gloucester's other eye.
Duke of Albany: Gloucester's eyes?
Gentleman: An enraged servant, thrilled with remorse, brutally opposed the act, bending his
sword against his venerable master. In the end, he killed him, but not before having that stroke
which has crippled him since.
Duke of Albany: You justicers, this shows that you are above the law! But oh, poor Gloucester!
Lost his other eye?
Gentleman: Both, my lord. This letter, madam, demands a quick answer. It is from your sister.
Goneril: [aside] One way I like this well; 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
it and answer. [Exeunt.]
Duke of Albany: Where was his son when they took his eyes off?
Gentleman: Come with my lady here.
Duke of Albany: He isn't here.
Gentleman: No, my gracious Lord. I met him again.
Duke of Albany: He knows the wickedness?
Gentleman: Ay, my kind lord. It was he who informed against him, and left the house, so that
their punishment might have a freer course.
Duke of Albany: Gloucester. I live to thank you for the love you showed the King, and to take
revenge on your eyes. Come hither, friend. Tell me what else you know.
[Exeunt.]
 44

SCENE III
The French camp near Dover

[Enter Kent and a Gentleman.]

Earl of Kent: Why has the King of France suddenly turned back to you to ask the reason?
Gentleman: In the state he left something imperfect, which has since been rediscovered and
brings so much fear and danger to the kingdom, that it was most necessary and urgent that he
return.
Earl of Kent: Who has he left behind him, general?
Gentleman: The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.
Earl of Kent: Did your letters pierce the Queen with any demonstration of grief?
Gentleman: Oh, sir. She took them, read them in my presence and now and then a tear rolled
down her delicate cheek. A queen over her passion, who, like a rebel, aspired to be king over her.
Earl of Kent: Oh, so it moved her?
Gentleman: Not in a rage. Her true self was a blend of patience and sorrow. At the same time,
you saw sunshine and rain, her smiles, and tears. It was as if those happy smiles on her lips didn't
know what guests were in her eyes, which parted then like diamonds from pearls. Should
everyone become sorrowful, it would be rare and cherished by all.
Earl of Kent: Did she have any verbal questions?
Gentleman: Faith, once or twice, heaved the name of her father pantingly forth, as if it pressed
her heart; she cried, "Sisters, sisters!" The shame of ladies! Sisters! Kent! Father! Sisters! What,
in the storm? Is it late at night? Let pity not be believed!" There she shook the holy water from
her heavenly eyes, and the clamor moistened. Then, suddenly, she started to deal with grief
alone.
Earl of Kent: It is the stars. The stars above us, govern our conditions; otherwise, one mate
couldn't have had such different issues. Have you spoken to her since?
Gentleman: No.
Earl of Kent: Was this before the King returned?
Gentleman: No, since.
Earl of Kent: Well, sir, there's the poor, distressed Lear in town, who sometimes remembers
what we've done and won't allow us to see his daughter.
Gentleman: Good sir, why?
Earl of Kent: Sovereign shame rivets him; his unkindness, having expelled her from his
benediction, given her to foreign casualties, and given her dear rights to his daughter's whelps,
these things sting his mind so venomously it prevents him from speaking to Cordelia.
Gentleman: Ah, poor gentleman!
Earl of Kent: Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers, did you not hear?
Gentleman: Yes, they're afoot.
Earl of Kent: Well, sir. I'll take you to our master; Lear and leave you to attend to him. Some
dear cause will ensnare me for a while in concealment. Once you know me well, you won't regret
lending me this acquaintance. I hope you'll join me.
[Exeunt.]
 45

SCENE IV
The French camp
 
[Enter, with drum and colors, Cordelia, Doctor, and Soldiers.]
Cordelia: Alack, 'tis he! Why, he is met even now as mad as the vexed sea, singing aloud,
crowned with rank fumiter and furrow weeds, with harlocks, hemlocks, nettles. Also, cuckoo
flowers, darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow in our sustaining corn. A century sends
forth. Search every acre of the high-grown field until you find him. [Exeunt an  Officer.] What
can a man's wisdom be in restoring his bereaved sense? That helps him see my full worth.
Doctor: There's a meaning, madam. Our foster nurse of nature is rest, which he lacks. I intend to
unleash many simple operatives upon him whose power will close his eyes to pain.
Cordelia: All the best secrets, all you unpublished virtues of the earth, spring from my tears! Be
an ally to the brave man in his distress! Seek, seek for him! He's free to allow his untamed rage
to destroy his life.
[Enter Messenger.]
Messenger: News, madam. The British troops are marching forward.
Cordelia: It's been known before. Our preparation is a result of them. Oh, dear father, it's your
business that I go about. Therefore, France, I have pitied you. We're moved by love, by dear
love, and by our aged father's right. Soon I'll hear and see him!
[Exeunt.]
 46

SCENE V
Gloucester's castle
 
[Enter Regan and Oswald]
Regan: What about my brother's slides?
Oswald: Ay, madam.
Regan: Himself in person there?
Oswald: Madam, with much ado. Your sister is the better soldier.
Regan: Lord Edmund, speak only with your Lord at home.
Oswald: No, madam.
Regan: What might my sister's letter to him mean?
Oswald: I don't know, lady.
Regan: Faith, he's in trouble. It was sheer ignorance, with Gloucester's eyes open, to let him live.
All hearts turn against us when he arrives. Edmund is off, in pity of his misery, to end his night
life and to descry the strength of the enemy.
Oswald: I must follow him, madam, with my letter.
Regan: Our troops leave tomorrow. Stay with us. The way is dangerous.
Oswald: I may not, madam. This business is my duty, according to my lady.
Regan: Why should she write to Edmund? Might you not be able to convey her intent by word?
I have no idea what it is, but I love you a lot. Let me unseal the letter.
Oswald: Madam, I'd rather.
Regan: On her late arrival here, your lady gave strange looks to Noble Edmund, as if she didn't
love her husband at all. I know you are in her heart.
Oswald: Me, madam?
Regan: I speak with understanding. Y'are! I know that. Thus, I advise you to take note of this.
My lord is dead; Edmund and I've talked and he's more convenient for my hand than for your
lady's. You may gather more. When you find him, I pray you'll give him this. And when your
mistress hears about you, I pray she'll use her wisdom. So, farewell. If you do get a chance to
hear from that blind traitor, preference falls on him and cuts him off.
Oswald: Would I be able to meet him, madam? I should show what party I follow.
Regan: Fare thee well. 
[Exeunt.]
 47

SCENE VI
The country near Dover
 
[Enter Gloucester and Edgar, like peasants].
Earl of Gloucester: When shall I reach the top of that hill?
Edgar: You can climb up it now. Look at how we labor.
Earl of Gloucester: the ground is even.
Edgar: It's a horrible steep. Hark, do you hear the sea?
Earl of Gloucester: No, truly.
Edgar: Why, then, do your other senses seem imperfect with your eyes in anguish?
Earl of Gloucester: So, may it be. I think your voice has changed and you use better words and
matter more than before.
Edgar: You're much deceived. I've changed nothing else but my clothes.
Earl of Gloucester: I think you're better spoken.
Edgar: Come on, sir; this is the place. Stand still. How fearful and dizzy it is to cast one's eyes
so low! The crows and choughs that wing the midway air show aren't as gross as beetles.
Halfway down, hangs one that gathers vampires! A dreadful trade! He seems no more substantial
than his head. The fishermen on the beach look like mice; the anchoring bark looks like a, and
the buoys appear almost too small to see. The murmuring surge that stirs countless pebble chafes
can’t be heard so high. I'll not look further, lest my brain twist and my deficient sight fall.
Earl of Gloucester: Tell me where you stand.
Edgar: Give me your hand. You are now within a foot of the extreme verge. Would I not leap
upright for all under the moon?
Earl of Gloucester: Let go of my hand. Here, a friend is another purse; in it, a jewel well worth
a poor man's taking. Fairies and gods prosper with you! Be thou further off; bid me farewell and
let me hear you off.
Edgar: Now fare you well, sir.
Earl of Gloucester: With all my heart.
Edgar: [aside]. What should I do with his despair?
Earl of Gloucester: Oh, you mighty gods! He kneels. This world I do renounce, and, in your
sight, shake off my severe affliction. If I could bear it longer and not fall into conflict with your
mighty opposeless wills, my snuff would be able to burn itself out. If Edgar lives, God bless him!
Now then, fellow, fare thee well. He falls [forward and swoons].
Edgar: Gone, sir. Farewell. And yet, I don't know how conceit may rob the Treasury of life
when life itself yields to theft. Having thought of the past, had he been where he thought? Alive
or dead? Sir or friend, you! Hear you, sir? Speak! Thus, he might indeed pass. Yet he revives.
What are you, sir?
Earl of Gloucester: Come, and let me die.
Edgar: Had thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, so much fluffy down precipitating, thou
wouldst shiver like an egg, but thou have heavy substance; most men don't; speak; art sound. Ten
masts at each, not the altitude to which you have plunged. Your life is a miracle. Speaking yet
again.
Earl of Gloucester: But have I fallen or not?
Edgar: From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. Look up "a-height." So far, the shrill-
gorged lark hasn't been seen or heard. Don't look up.
Earl of Gloucester: Ah, I have no eyes! Does wretchedness lack that benefit of death to end
 48

itself? There was some comfort when misery could beguile the tyrant's rage and frustrate his
proud will.
Edgar: Give me your arm. So, how is that? Feeling your legs? You stand.
Earl of Gloucester: Too well, too well.
Edgar: This is above all odd. At the top of the cliff, what parted you?
Earl of Gloucester: A poor, unfortunate beggar.
Edgar: As I stood here below, I thought his eyes were two full moons; he had a thousand noses
and horns that whelked and waved like the enridged sea. It was some fiend. You should,
therefore, believe that the clearest gods, who honor men's impossibility, have protected you.
Earl of Gloucester: I do remember now. Henceforth, I'll bear affliction till it does cry out,
"Enough, enough," and die. The thing you mention, I took it for a man. Often, he would say,
"The fiend, the fiend." He led me there.
Edgar: Think free and patiently. Enter Lear, mad [fantastically dressed in weeds]. But who
came here? The safer sense will never accommodate his master in this way.
Lear: No, they can’t touch me for coming; I am the King himself.
Edgar: Oh, thou side-piercing sight!
Lear: Nature's art is 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. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove it to a giant. Bring up the brown bills.
Oh, well flown, bird! In the power, in the clout! Hewgh! Give it the word.
Edgar: Sweet marjoram.
Lear: Pass.
Earl of Gloucester: I know that voice.
Lear: Ha! Goneril with a white beard? They flattered me like a dog and told me I had white
hairs in my beard where the black ones were, to say "ay" and "no" to everything I said! "Ouch"
and "no" weren't divine. When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter,
when the thunder wouldn't quiet at my bidding, there I found 'em. I smelt 'em out. They aren't
men of their words! They told me I was everything. It is a lie that I'm not ague-proof.
Earl of Gloucester: The trick of that voice I do well to remember. Is it not the King?
Lear: Ay, every bit a king! You'll see how the subject quakes when I stare. I pardon that man's
life. What was your cause? Adultery? Thou shalt not die. Did you die of adultery? No, there's no
wren, and there's no goldfly in my sight. Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's son was kinder to
his father than my daughters got between the lawful sheets. To't, luxury, pell-mell! I lack
soldiers, so behold, yonder, a simpering dame, whose face between her fork’s presages snow,
that minces virtue and does shake the head to hear of pleasure's name. Neither the fitchew nor the
soiled horse is put to pasture with a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist, they're centaurs,
like the ladies above. But to the girdle do the gods inherit; beneath is all the fiends. There's hell,
there's darkness; there's the sulfurous pit; burning, scalding, stench, consumption. Fie, fie, fie!
Pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet, a trustworthy apothecary, to sweeten my imagination.
There's money for you.
Earl of Gloucester: Oh, let me kiss that hand!
Lear: Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.
Earl of Gloucester: Oh, a ruined piece of nature! This magnificent world will be for naught. Do
you know me?
Lear: I remember your eyes well. Dost, thou squint at me. No, do your part, blind Cupid! I'll
never love. Take note of the writing in this challenge.
 49

Earl of Gloucester: Were all the letters sun? I couldn't see one.

Edgar: [aside] I wouldn't take this from the report. It is, and my heart breaks at it.
Lear: Read.
Earl of Gloucester: What is the matter with the eyes?
Lear: Oh, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your head, and no money in your pocket? Your
eyes are heavy; your purse is light. Yet you see how this world works.
Earl of Gloucester: I see it feelingly.
Lear: What, you're mad? A man may see how the world works with no eyes. Look with your
ears. See the justice shown to that simple thief. Hark in thine ear. Change places and, handy
dandy, who is justice, which is the thief? Hast thou seen a farmer's dog barking at a beggar?
Earl of Gloucester: Ay, sir.
Lear: And did the creature run from the cur? There thou might behold the finest image of
authority: a dog being obeyed in an office. Hold thy bloody hand! Why dost thou lash that? Strip
yourself off. It is for this purpose that you whip her. The user hangs the cozener. Through
tattered clothes, small vices do appear; robes and furred gowns hide them all. Plate sin with gold,
and the sword of justice will break it; arm it in rags; and a pygmy's straw does pierce it. None
does offend, none. I say none! I'll be able to handle them. Take that from me, my friend, who has
the power to seal the accuser's lips. Like a scurvy politician, you see things you aren't able to.
Now, now, now, now! Pull off my boots. Harder, harder! So.
Edgar: Oh, matter and impertinence mixed! The reason is madness!
Lear: If thou wilt weep for my fortunes, take my eyes. I know you well enough; your name is
Gloucester. You must be patient. We came here crying. You know, the first time we smell the
air, we wail and cry. I'll preach to you. Mark.
Earl of Gloucester: Alack, alack the day!
Lear: We cry when we are born, proclaiming that we have reached this elevated level of
foolishness. This is a good block. It was a delicate art to shoe a troop of horses with felt. I'll put
it in proof and when I have stolen from these sons-in-law, I'll kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

[Enter a Gentleman with Attendants].

Gentleman: Oh, here he is! Lay your hand upon him. Your most dear daughter.
Lear: No rescue? What, a prisoner? In fact, I am a natural fool of fortune. Use me well; you
shall have ransom. My brain is cut; I need a surgeon.
Gentleman: You shall have anything.
Lear: No seconds? all by myself? Why, this would make a man a man of salt, to use his eyes for
garden waterpots, ay, and laying fall dust.
Gentleman: Good sir.
Lear: I'll die bravely, like a smug bridegroom. What! I'll be jovial. Come, come, I am a king; my
masters, do you know that?
Gentleman: You're king, and we'll obey you.
Lear: Then there's life in it. Nay, if you get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa, sa, sa!
[Exeunt running.] [Attendants follow.]
Gentleman: A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, speaking of a king! It's thy daughter who
redeems nature from the general curse brought about by Twain.
Edgar: Hail, gentle sir.
Gentleman: Sir, speed you. What's your will?
Edgar: Do you heard about a battle?
 50

Gentleman: Most sure and vulgar. All of us hear that, which distinguishes sound.
Edgar: But, to your knowledge, how far is the other army?
Gentlemen: Near and moving quickly. Hourly thoughts are the main theme.
Edgar: I thank you, sir. That's all.
Gentleman: The Queen is in town on special duty, but her army has moved on.
Edgar: I thank you, sir.
[Exeunt Gentleman].
Earl of Gloucester: You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me; let not my foul spirit tempt
me again to die before you, please!
Edgar: Well, pray for you, father.
Earl of Gloucester: Now, kindly, sir, what are you doing?
Edgar: The poorest man, made tame to fortune's blows, is pregnant with sympathy and pity by
the art of knowing and feeling sorrows. Give me your hand; I'll lead you to some bidding.
Earl of Gloucester: Hearty thanks. Heaven's bounty and gift to boot!
[Enter Oswald]
Oswald: A proclaimed prize! Most happy! My fortunes have been raised by that eyeless head of
thine. Thou old unhappy traitor, remember briefly. The sword is out and must destroy you.
Earl of Gloucester: Now let your friendly hand be strong enough to finish.
[Edgar interposes.]
Oswald: Wherefore, bold peasant, dare thou support a published traitor? Thus, don't let the
infection of his fortune take a hold on you. Let go of his arm.
Edgar: Don't let me leave, Zir, without Vurther's consent.
Oswald: Let go, slave, or thou shalt die!
Edgar: Well, gentleman, keep walking and let poor Voke pass. She had been zwagered out of
my life, and not by so much as a fortnight. No, don't come near the old man. Let's see if either
your companion or my ball will be hardened. Be plain with you.
Oswald: Out, dunghill!
[They fight.]
Edgar: Chill out, pick your teeth, zir. Come! No matter what your sources are.
[Oswald falls.]
Oswald: Slave, you have slain me. Take my purse, villain. If you live, bury my body, and give
the letters that you find about me to Edmund, Earl of Gloucester. Seek him out among the British
party. Oh, sudden death! Death!
[He dies.]
Edgar: I know you well. Like a true villain, as dedicated to the vices of his mistress as badness
would desire.
Earl of Gloucester: What, is he dead?
Edgar: Father, sit down and rest. Check out his pockets; the letters he mentions may be mine.
He's dead. I am only sorry that he didn't have a deathman. Let us see. Don't blame us; we only
leave a gentle wax. To know our enemies' minds, we'd rip out their hearts; their papers are more
lawful. Read the letter. "Let our mutual vows be remembered. You have them all. Opportunities
to cut him off. If you do not want it, time and place will be provided. No harm is done if he
returns to the conqueror. Then I am your prisoner, and his bed is my prison; deliver me from its
unbearable heat, and let your hands work there. "Your (wife, as I would say) affectionate servant,
Goneril. Oh, the indistinct lines of a woman's will! A plot against her virtuous husband's life and
the exchange of my brother! Here in the sands, thou 'll rake up the post unsanctified by
 51

murtherous lechers; and in the mature time of this ungracious paper strike, the sight of the death-
practiced Duke. It is best for him that I know about his death and business.
Earl of Gloucester: The King is mad. It is so difficult to stand up and feel the pain that I feel
stiff as a stick. Better yet, I was distracted. Then my griefs will be divided from my thoughts, and
woes caused by wrong imaginations will lose their grasp on reality.
[A drum aa faroff.]
Edgar: Give me your hand. Far off, I hear the beaten drum. Come, father, I'll bestow you with a
friend. 
[Exeunt.]
 52

SCENE VII
A tent in the French camp
 
[Enter Cordelia, Kent, Doctor, and Gentleman.]
Cordelia: Dear Kent, how shall I live and work to match your goodness? My life will be too
short, and every measure will fail me.
Earl of Kent: I acknowledge that you are overpaid, madam. All my reports follow modest truth,
so it is. So, it is. Nor more nor less, but so.
Cordelia: Better suited. These weeds are memories of those worsening hours. I prithee put them
off.
Earl of Kent: Excuse me, ma'am. Having yet to be known limits my goal. By my luck, you
won't know me until we meet.
Cordelia: Then be it so, my kind lord. [To the Doctor] How's it going, King?
Doctor: Madam, sleeps still.
Cordelia: Oh, you kind gods, heal this deep breach in his abused nature! Oh, wind up this child-
changed father!
Doctor: Can we wake the King? He had slept long.
Cordelia: Your knowledge governs and follow your own will. Is he arrayed?
[Enter Lear in a chair carried by Servants.]
Gentleman: Oh, madam. In the heaviness of sleep, we put fresh clothes on him.
Doctor: Be by, sir madam, when we wake him up. I doubt not of his temperance.
Cordelia: Very well.
[Music].
Doctor: Please draw near. Louder the music there!
Cordelia: Oh, my dear father, restoration, let this kiss repair the violent harms between my two
sisters caused by your reverence!
Earl of Kent: Kind and dear princess!
Cordelia: Had you not been their father, these white flakes would have challenged your pity.
Should this face be exposed to the wind? To stand against the dark thunder. What is the most
terrible and nimble lightning bolt? To watch. Poor perdu! With this thin helm? My enemy's dog,
though he had bitten me, should have stood that night against my fire; and was thou fain, poor
father, to hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn, in short, and musty straw? Alack, alack! It is
a wonder that your life didn't end at once. He wakes up. Speak to him.
Doctor: Madam, do you; 'tis the fittest.
Cordelia: How are you, my lord? How fares Your Majesty?
Lear: You did me wrong by taking me out of the grave. Thou art a soul in bliss; but I'm bound
upon a wheel of fire, so that my own tears do scald like molten lead.
Cordelia: Sir, do you know me?
Lear: You are a spirit, I know. When did you die?
Cordelia: Still, still, far, and wide!
Doctor: He's barely awake. Let him be alone for a while.
Lear: Where have I been? Where am I? During the day, I'm severely abused. I would even die if
I saw another like this. I don't know what to say. I won't swear that these are my hands. Let's see.
I feel this pinprick. Will I be assured of my condition?
Cordelia: Oh, look upon me, sir, and hold your hands in benediction over me. No, sir, you must
not kneel.
 53

Lear: Please, don't mock me. I am a very foolish and fond old man, four score and upward, not
an hour more nor less; and, to put it plainly, I fear I'm not in my right mind. Though I know you
and this man, I'm doubtful. Since I am still unaware of where I am, I don't remember where I
stayed last night, nor do I recall what I wore. Don't laugh at me, for (as I am a man) I think this
lady is my child, Cordelia.
Cordelia: And so, I am! I am!
Lear: Are your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray not to weep. If you have poison for me, I'll drink it. I
know you don't love me, because your sisters have, as I do remember, done me wrong. You have
some cause, they haven't.
Cordelia: No cause, no cause.
Lear: Am I in France?
Earl of Kent: In your kingdom, sir.
Lear: Don't abuse me.
Doctor: Be comforted, please ma'am. The deep rage you see in him has died, and yet it is a
danger to him even after the time he's lost. I want him to get in. Trouble him no more until the
matter is settled.
Cordelia: Won't your highness walk?
Lear: You must bear with me. I pray for you now, I forget, and I forgive. I'm old and foolish.
[Exeunt.  Manent Kent and Gentleman.]
Gentleman: Sir, is it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?
Earl of Kent: Most certainly, sir.
Gentleman: Who is the conductor of his people?
Earl of Kent: Is the son of Gloucester.
Gentleman: They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.
Earl of Kent: The report is changeable. It's time to look around; the powers of the kingdom are
gaining ground.
Gentleman: Arbitration is like a bloodbath. Fare you well, sir. [Exeunt.]
Earl of Kent: My point and period will be thoroughly wrought, for the better or ill, as this day's
battle is fought.
[Exeunt.]
 54

ACT V
 
SCENE I
The British camp near Dover
 
[Enter, with drum and colors, Edmund, Regan, Gentleman, and Soldiers.]
Edmund: I want to know whether the duke maintains his last purpose, or if he must change it,
since he is advised by all to do so. He's full of alteration and self-reproach. Brings his constant
pleasure.
[Exeunt an  Officer.]
Regan: Our sister's husband has miscarried.
Edmund: It is to be doubted, madam.
Regan: Now, sweet lord, you know the goodness I intend for you? Tell me honestly, but then
speak the truth. Do you not love my sister?
Edmund: In honor of love.
Regan: But have you never found my brother's way to the fended place?
Edmund: That thought abuses you.
Regan: I'm doubtful that you've been married to or bosom with her, as far as we can call her.
Edmund: No, by my honor, madam.
Regan: I'll never endure her. Dear Lord, you aren't familiar with her.
Edmund: Fear me not. She and the Duke, her husband.
[Enter, with drum and colors, Albany, Goneril, Soldiers.]
Goneril: [aside] I would rather lose the battle than have that sister loosen him and me.
Duke of Albany: Our very loving sister. The King has come to his daughter, as has another, who
was forced to cry out under the rigors of our state. Where I couldn't be honest, I wasn't brave.
This business touches us as France invades our land, not boldly the king, with others whom, I
fear, most just and heavy causes make us oppose.
Edmund: Sir, you speak nobly.
Regan: Why is this the reason?
Goneril: In the end, we must combine against this enemy; for domestic and particular broils
aren't at issue.
Duke of Albany: Let's then decide how we'll proceed with the ancient war.
Edmund: I shall see you shortly at your tent.
Regan: Sister, you'll go with us?
Goneril: No.
Regan: It's most convenient. I pray you come with us.
Goneril: [aside] Oh, ho, I know the riddle. I'll go. 
[As they are going out, enter Edgar, disguised].
Edgar: If ever your grace spoke to a man so poor, please hear me.
Duke of Albany: I'll overtake you. Speak.
[Exeunt all but Albany and Edgar].
Edgar: Before you fight the battle, read this letter. If you have victory, let the trumpet sound for
those who brought it. Wretched though I seem, I can produce a champion that will prove what's
said there. If you miscarry, your business in the world has end, and machination ceases. Fortune
loves you!
Duke of Albany: Keep sitting till I have read the letter.
 55

Edgar: I forbade it. When time shall allow, let the Herald cry, and I'll appear again.
Duke of Albany: Why have you survived? I'll look over your paper.
[Exeunt Edgar] [Enter Edmund.]
Edmund: The enemy is in vogue; draw up your powers. Here's the closest guess of their true
strength and force by diligent discovery, but hurry!
Duke of Albany: Let's welcome the time. [Exeunt.]
Edmund: To both these sisters, I've sworn my love; each of them jealous of the other. Which of
them should I take? Both? One? Or neither? Neither can be enjoyed if both remain alive. It
angers and exasperates her sister Goneril, that I should take the widow; and I'm not able to do so
since her husband is alive. Next, we'll use his face for battle. When it's done, let him devise a fast
takeoff. Lear and Cordelia will never see his pardon, as the battle is over, and the state depends
upon me to defend it, not to debate it. 
[Exeunt.]
 56

SCENE II
A field between the two camps
 
[Enter, with drum and colors, the Powers of France over the stage. Cordelia with her father in
her hand, and exeunt. Enter Edgar and Gloucester.]
Edgar: Here, father, take the shadow of this tree as a host. Pray that the right may thrive. When I
return to you again, I'll bring you comfort.
Earl of Gloucester: Grace be with you, sir!
[Exeunt Edgar] [Alarum and retreat within. Enter Edgar.]
Edgar: Away, old man! Give me your hand! Away! King Lear and his daughter have lost. Give
me your hand! Come on!
Earl of Gloucester: No further, sir. A man may not even here.
Edgar: What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure their going forward even as they come
back; ripeness is all. Come on.
Earl of Gloucester: And that's true too. 
[Exeunt.]
 57

SCENE III
The British camp near Dover
 
[Enter, in conquest, with drum and colors. Edmund; Lear and Cordelia as prisoners; Soldiers,
Captain.]
Edmund: Some officers took them away. They guard until their true pleasures are first known to
those who are to censure them.
Cordelia: We aren't the first people who, with sincere intentions, have suffered a loss. The
oppressed king has cast me down; otherwise, I couldn't outsmirk falsehood. Fortune's frown.
Should we not see these daughters and these sisters?
Lear: No, no, no, no! Come on, let's get into prison. We alone will sing like birds in a cage.
When thou ask me for a blessing, I'll kneel and ask for your forgiveness. So, we'll live and pray
and sing and tell old tales and laugh at gilded butterflies and hear poor rogues talk of court news.
We'll talk to them, too. Who loses and who wins; who's in and who's out? And take upon the
mystery of things as if we were God's spies; and we'll wear out, in a walled prison, packs and
sects of mighty ones that ebb and flow by the moon.
Edmund: Take them away.
Lear: Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, the gods themselves offer incense. Have I caught you?
He those parts us shall bring a brand from heaven and fire us, just like foxes. Wipe your eyes.
The fruitful years shall devour them, flesh, and blood, before they shall make us weep! We'll see
if they starve first. Come.
[Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded].
Edmund: Come hither, Captain; hark. Take this note [gives a paper]. Go follow them to prison.
One step further, I have advanced. If thou do as this instructs thee, thou shalt make thy way to
noble fortunes. Men are as the times are. Being tender-minded doesn't become a sword. Your
skill can’t be questioned. Either say you'll do it or thrive by other means.
Captain: I'll do it, my lord.
Edmund: What is it? When it's all over, write happy. Mark it, I say, instantly, and carry it as I
have set it down.
Captain: I can’t draw a cart or eat dried oats; if it is a man's work, I'll do it. 
[Exeunt. Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan and the Soldiers.]
Duke of Albany: Sir, you've shown today your valiant strain, and fortune has led you well. You
have captives who were the opposites of today's strife. They're required of you, so use them as
you discover their merits and as we consider our safety.
Edmund: Sir, I thought it best to send the old and miserable King to some retention, and to
appoint a guard, whose age and title have charms, to pluck the common bosom on his side, and
to turn our impressed lances into our eyes, which do direct them. With him, I sent the Queen, for
the same reason; they're ready to appear tomorrow, or later, wherever you hold your session. At
this time, we sweat and bleed; the friend has lost his friend; and the fiercest quarrels, in the heat,
are cursed by those that feel their sharpness. The question of Cordelia and her father deserves its
own place.
Duke of Albany: Sir, with your patience, I hold you as a subject, not as a brother.
Regan: That's as we prepare to grace him. You might have been asking for our pleasure before
you spoke this far. Our leader bore the commission of my place and person, and as such may
stand and call himself your brother.
Goneril: Not so hot! His grace exalts him more than your addition.
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Regan:  He competes with the elite.

Goneril: That was the right reason to marry you.
Regan: Jesters do often prove prophets.
Goneril: Holla, holla! That eye that told you so looked asquint.
Regan: Lady, I'm not, well; ideally, I should answer from a full stomach. Take thou my soldiers,
prisoners, and patrimony; dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine. Witness the world that I
created for you here, my lord and master.
Goneril: So you enjoyed him?
Duke of Albany: The issue isn't your goodwill.
Edmund: Nor in you, Lord.
Duke of Albany: Half-blooded fellow, yes.
Regan: [to Edmund] Let the drum strike and prove my title, tyrant.
Duke of Albany: Stay yet; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee for capital treason; and, in thine
attaint, this gilded serpent [points to Goneril]. I'll bar your claim, fair sister, in the interest of my
wife. 'Tis she is subcontracted to this Lord, and I, her husband, contradict your banes. If you
decide to marry, make your love to me; my lady is custom-made.
Goneril: An interlude!
Duke of Albany: Thou art armed, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound. In case no evidence proves
your heinous, manifest, and numerous crimes, here's my pledge [throws down a glove]! I'll prove
it to you. It is in nothing less than this that thou art, before I even taste bread.
Regan: Sick, oh, sick!
Goneril: [aside] If not, I'll never trust medicine.
Edmund: Here's my exchange [throws down a glove]. What in the world is he that calls me a
traitor, a villain-like figure? He lies. Call with thy trumpet. Who gets close to him, to you, and
who doesn't? I'll uphold my truth and honor.
Duke of Albany: A herald, ho!
Edmund: A herald? Ho, a herald!
Duke of Albany: Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, all levied in my name, have in my
name taken their discharge.
Regan: My fatigue is growing upon me.
Duke of Albany: She isn't well. Convey her to my tent. [Exeunt Regan, led. Enter the
Herald.] Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound and read out this.
Captain: Sound the trumpet! A trumpet sounds.
Herald: [reads] "If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon
Edmund, the supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the
third sound of the trumpet. He's bold in his defense."
Edmund: Sound! First trumpet.
Herald: Again! Second trumpet.
Herald: Again! Third trumpet.
[Trumpet answers within. Enter Edgar, armed with the third sound of a trumpet before him.]
Duke of Albany: Ask him what his purpose is, and why he appears at this call of the trumpet.
Herald: What are you? Your name, your quality? And why do you answer the present
summons?
Edgar: Know that my name is lost; by treason's tooth, bare-gnawed and canker-bit. Yet I'm
noble as the adversary I've come to accept.
Duke of Albany: Which of those adversaries is that?
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Edgar: Who is it that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester?

Edmund: Himself. What sayest thou to him?
Edgar: Draw thy sword; that if my speech offends a noble heart, thy arm may do thee justice.
Here's mine. It is the privilege of my honor, oath, and profession. I protest your strength, youth,
place and eminence. Despite your victor, sword and fire-new fortune, your valor, and your heart,
you are a traitor; dalse to your gods, your brother, and your father; conspiring against this high
and illustrious prince; and from the extremest upward of your head to the descent and dust
beneath your feet, a most toad-spotted traitor. You must refuse, for this sword, this arm; and my
guiding spirits are bent upon proving that thou lies, not just in my words, but in my heart, too.
Edmund: If I spoke uprightly of you, I would ask you for your name, but since your appearance
is so fair and warlike, and your tongue reeks of breeding, I disdain and spurn what I might delay
by the knighthood rule. As I cast those treasons from your head, the lie your heart hates
overwhelms you; for they still drift by and don't bruise. Through this sword of mine they'll find a
way to rest forever. Trumpets, speak!
[Alarums. Fight. Edmund falls.]
Duke of Albany: Save him, save him!
Goneril: This is mere practice, Gloucester. By the law of arms, you weren't bound to answer an
unknown opposite. You aren't defeated, but cowed and beguiled.
Duke of Albany: Shut your mouth, dame, or with this paper, shall I stop it? [Shows her letter to
Edmund.] [To Edmund]. Hold on, sir. [To Goneril] Thou art worse than any name; read thine
own evil. No tears, lady! You know it.
Goneril: If I do, the laws are mine, not yours. Can I be prosecuted for it?
Duke of Albany: Most monstrous! Do you know this paper?
Goneril: Don't ask what I know; ask me. 
[Exeunt.]
Duke of Albany: Run after her. She's desperate; govern her.
[Exeunt an Officer.]
Edmund: What do you charge me with? I have done that and more, much more. Time will bring
it out. It's passed, and so am I. But who art thou that hast this fortune upon me? I forgive you if
you are noble.
Edgar: Let's exchange charity. I'm no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; if more, the more
thou hast wronged me. My name is Edgar, and I'm your father's son. The gods are just, and they
scourge us for our pleasant vices. The dark and vicious place where he got lost cost him his eyes.
Edmund: Thou hast spoken right; it's true. The wheel comes full circle; I'm here.
Duke of Albany: I thought your very gait predicted your nobleness as a royal. I must embrace
you. Let sorrow split my heart if I hated thee, or your father!
Edgar: Worthy prince, I know.
Duke of Albany: Where have you been hiding? How have you known the miseries of your
father?
Edgar: By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale; and when it's told, oh, that my heart would
burst! It plagued me so near (Oh, how sweet our lives! To die hourly rather than all at once!) and
this caused me to dress in rags and assume a form even dogs detested; and so, I met my father
with his bleeding rings, the precious stones long since lost, and became his guide, led him,
pleaded for him, rescued him; yet, I didn't (my mistake!) once expose myself. But his
flawed heart (alas, too weak from conflict) bursts with two extremes of joy and grief as he
smiles.
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Edmund: This speech of yours has moved me, and I shall speak to you later; you look as if you
have something more to say.
Duke of Albany: If there be more, more woful, hold it in; for I am almost ready to dissolve at
the hearing of this.
Edgar: It would have seemed a period of love, not sorrow; but if it were amplified too much, it
would have seemed far more and to the extreme. In the clamor, there came a man who, upon
seeing me in my most miserable state, shunned my abhorred company; but then, finding out who
endured so much, he fastened on my neck, crying. Burst heaven; threw him on my father and
related the most piteous story of Lear and him, that ever an ear could conceive; and with his
words, the strings of life began to break. Twice, the trumpets sounded, leaving him tranced.
Duke of Albany: But who was this?
Edgar: Kent, sir, the banished Kent, who in disguise followed his enemy king and did him
service improper for a slave.
[Enter a Gentleman with a bloody knife.]
Gentleman: Help, help! Oh, help!
Edgar: What kind of help?
Duke of Albany: Speak, man.
Edgar: What does that bloody knife mean?
Gentleman: It's hot; it smokes. Oh, even from her heart! She's dead!
Duke of Albany: Who's dead? Speak, man.
Gentleman: Your lady, sir, your lady! She confessed to it.
Edmund: I was contracted to them both. All three are now married in an instant.
[Enter Kent.]
Edgar: Here comes Kent.
Duke of Albany: Produce their bodies, living or dead. [Exeunt Gentleman.] This judgment of
the heavens, which makes us tremble, doesn't touch us with pity. Oh, is this him? Time won't
allow us to compliment proper manners.
Earl of Kent: I come to bid my king and master farewell. Is he not here?
Duke of Albany: Wonderful thing most of us forgot! Speak, Edmund, where's the King? And
where's Cordelia? [The bodies of Goneril and Regan are brought in.] See thou this object, Kent?
Earl of Kent: Ah, why now?
Edmund: Yet Edmund was beloved. The one who poisoned me for my sake, and then slew
herself.
Duke of Albany: Even so, cover their faces.
Edmund: I pant for life. Some things I mean to do, despite my own nature. Send a brief note to
the castle, as my writing is about Lear and Cordelia. Nay, send it in time.
Duke of Albany: Run, run, oh, run!
Edgar: To whom, my lord? Who has the office? Send the token of reprieve.
Edmund: Well, think on it. Take my sword; give it to the captain.
Duke of Albany: Haste thee for your life.
[Exeunt Edgar.]
Edmund: He hath received a commission from your wife and me to hang Cordelia in prison and
to lay the blame upon her despair that she fordid herself.
Duke of Albany: The Gods defend her! Bear with him for a while.
[Edmund is borne off.] [Enter Lear, with Cordelia in his arms. Edgar, Captain, and others
following].
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Lear: Howl, howl, howl, howl! Oh, you stone men. Had I your tongue and eyes, I'd use them so
that heaven's vault should crack. She's gone forever! I know when one is dead and when one is
living. She's dead as the earth. Lend me a looking glass. If her breath mists or stains the stone,
then she lives.
Earl of Kent: Is this the promised end?
Edgar: Or an image of that horror?
Duke of Albany: Fall and cease!
Lear: This feather stirs; she lives! If it is so, it is a chance to redeem all the sorrows that I've
experienced.
Earl of Kent: Oh, my beloved master!
Lear: Prithee away!
Edgar: 'Tis noble Kent, your friend.
Lear: A plague upon you, murderers and traitors all! I might have saved her, but now she's been
lost forever! Cordelia, Cordelia! Stay a bit while. Ha! What is it that you say? Her voice was
always soft, gentle, and low and an excellent trait in a woman. I killed the slave that was
shackling you.
Captain: It's true, my lords, he did.
Lear: Did I not, fellow? I have seen the day. I could’ve made them skip if I had my most
powerful falchion. I'm old now, and they spoil me. Who are you? My eyes aren't the sharpest. I'll
tell you straight.
Earl of Kent: If fortune boasts of two, she loved and two she hated, we see.
Lear: This is a dull sight. Are you from Kent?
Earl of Kent: The same as your servant, Kent. Where's your servant Caius?
Lear: He's a pleasant fellow. I can tell you that. He'll strike, and quickly, too. He's dead and
rotten.
Earl of Kent: No, my righteous lord; I am the one.
Lear: I'll see that straight.
Earl of Kent: That from the very beginning of your life, difference and decay have followed
you.
Lear: You're welcome here.
Earl of Kent: Nor any man else! It's all grim, dark and deadly. Your eldest daughters have
forgiven themselves and are desperately dead.
Lear: Ay, so I think.
Duke of Albany: He knows not what he says; and it's vain that we present ourselves to him.
Edgar: Very bootless.
[Enter the Captain.]
Captain: Edmund is dead, my lord.
Duke of Albany: That's a trifle. Lords and friends, you know our intent. We shall apply what
comfort we can to this decay. We'll give up our absolute power to him during the life of the old
king; [to Edgar and Kent], they get their rights; with a boot and such additions as your honors
truly deserve. All friends shall taste the wages of their virtue, and all foes shall drink the cup of
their deservings. Oh, see, see!
Lear: And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, or a rat have life,
and you have no breath at all? Never, never, never, never, never! I beg you to undo this button.
Thank you, sir. Do you see this? Look at her! Look at her lips! Look there, look there!
[He dies.]
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Edgar: He faints! My lord, my lord!

Earl of Kent: Break, heart; I pray break!
Edgar: Look up, my lord.
Earl of Kent: Don't vex his ghost. Oh, let him pass! He hates him because that would, in this
tough world, stretch him out longer.
Edgar: He's no more.
Earl of Kent: The wonder is that he's endured so long. He took over his life.
Duke of Albany: Bring them here. Our primary business is general woe. [To Kent and
Edgar] Friends of my soul, you men rule in this realm, and the gods sustain.
Earl of Kent: I have a journey, sir. It'll be shortly. My master calls me; I must not say no.
Duke of Albany: We must obey, speak what we feel, not what we should say. The oldest have
borne the most; we who are young shall never see so much, nor live so long.
[Exeunt with a dead march.]
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Analysis
 
King Lear is a play about blindness: blindness to others' motivations; blindness to one's true
nature; blindness to the emptiness of power and privilege and blindness to the importance of
selfless love. Lear's only desire is to enjoy a comfortable, carefree old age. However, he fails to
see the role his absolute power has played in shaping his relationship with his daughters, whom
he expects to take care of him. Once he loses his power, Lear gains insight into his nature and
realizes his shortcomings, admitting "my eyes are not the finest." (V.iii) Tragically, this self-
knowledge comes too late, at a point when Lear has forfeited the power that might have enabled
him to change his fate. He finally sees the world as it is but is powerless to do anything about it.
He dies after saying the final words, "look there, look there," (V.iii), a literal command that the
others look at Cordelia. but also, a symbolic plea that the survivors view themselves, and the
world, more accurately.
The play opens with a glimpse of the subplot that mirrors the main action. Gloucester explains
that he has two sons, one legitimate and one illegitimate, but he tries to love them equally. They
discuss Lear's plans to divide his kingdom, suggesting that he has already decided to share
equally among his daughters. Also, they say that his love test is just a show and won't determine
anything. Lear then announces his intention to divide his kingdom, admitting that Cordelia is his
favorite. He expects all three daughters to try to outdo each other with declarations of their love,
for which he'll reward them with portions of land. But Cordelia refuses to flatter him and
humiliates him publicly with her disobedience. Enraged by Cordelia's stubbornness, Lear
disowns her and divides the kingdom between the remaining two daughters. Lear's inability to
understand that despite Cordelia's reluctance to flatter her father publicly, she loves him most is
the tragic mistake that incites the action of the rest of the play.
The audience understands that Lear's other two daughters, the deceitful Goneril and Reagan, are
the antagonists to Lear's desire to hold onto his power. The rising action of the play sees these
two characters actively thwarting their father and hastening his downfall. After dividing his
kingdom between Goneril and Regan, Lear continues to demand that his daughters care for him,
hoping to retain the privileges of the crown without the responsibilities. Lear has never
recognized the role power plays in his family, so he expects his daughters to treat him exactly as
they did when he was their king. Instead, Regan and Goneril treat Lear according to his newly
acquired status as a powerless old man. Lear is deprived not only of the loving care he expected
from his daughters, but also of his attendant knights, and finally, even of the shelter of their
roofs. Meanwhile, the subplot reverses the structure of the main plot: while Lear mistakenly
believes that power plays no role in his family. Edmund is all too aware of the role power plays
in his. Angry that his illegitimate status makes him powerless, Edmund schemes to banish Edgar
and take his place as Gloucester's heir.
In keeping with its mirrored plot and subplot, King Lear has two simultaneous climaxes
where a protagonist comes into direct conflict with an antagonist. For Lear, this moment comes
when he's denied shelter by his daughters and forced to wander in the storm, a reversal of fortune
that drives him mad. He tries to make the storm obey him; and the result is that he is deprived of
the few comforts he's left. Lear spends much of the storm talking with Edgar, who's disguised as
a mad beggar called "Poor Tom" and helps Lear see that, as king, he failed to care enough for the
poor and downtrodden people of his kingdom. Meanwhile, Edmund triggers the climax of the
subplot when he reveals to Cornwall that Gloucester has tried to help Lear. As a result,
Gloucester is blinded, stripped of his title, and banished from his home. The climax of the
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subplot confirms the vision of the main plot: raw, violent power is a potent force stronger even
than the love of families. Edmund has achieved his goal because he understands this truth and is
prepared to act on it.
In his madness and suffering, Lear learns how fragile and temporary his former power was. In
the play's climax, this insight allows him to be reconciled with Cordelia. He no longer demands
that his daughter treat him like a king. He's happy to be treated as a "foolish, fond old man"
(IV.vii) so long as Cordelia loves him. He imagines that in prison, he and Cordelia will be
sustained not by power, but by their mutual love for one another: "We two alone will sing like
birds in the cage" (V.iii). Edgar, still disguised as Poor Tom, meets his blinded father,
Gloucester, who intends to commit suicide. Both men are so damaged by political power that it's
crushed them—Edgar forced to hide, Gloucester suicidal and unable to see—that their father and
son are unable to be truly reconciled. Edgar doesn't reveal his true identity to Gloucester, and he
has to trick his father into surviving his suicide attempt. Edgar's deception suggests that true
reconciliation is impossible when families are torn apart by power. This undermines Lear's
reconciliation with Cordelia and foreshadows the terrible denouement of the play, in which both
families will be destroyed.
The play's denouement involves the deaths of many of the characters, most of them violent.
Edgar kills his brother Edmund. Edgar also unintentionally kills his father, who's overcome by
the discovery that his son has survived and forgives him. Edgar is restored to power as the new
Duke of Gloucester, but like Edmund, he's had to destroy his family to do it. Lear's family is also
destroyed. Regan, Goneril, Cordelia, and finally Lear himself all die. The central theme of the
denouement was Cordelia's death. Even though Edmund reverses his orders to have Cordelia and
Lear killed, his decision comes too late. This truth echoes the fatalism of the entire play; a
mistake, once made, can't be undone, just as Lear can't undo his fatal mistake of giving the
wrong daughters his kingdom. In the play's final scene, Lear carries Cordelia's body on stage,
howling with grief. Lear has finally learned to love his daughter without asking for anything in
return, only to have her taken from him. All Lear's suffering has been for nothing.