king lear act 1 essay

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King Lear Scenes

• King Lear: Act 1, Scene 1
• King Lear: Act 1, Scene 2
• King Lear: Act 1, Scene 3
• King Lear: Act 1, Scene 4
• King Lear: Act 1, Scene 5
• King Lear: Act 2, Scene 1
• King Lear: Act 2, Scene 2
• King Lear: Act 2, Scene 3
• King Lear: Act 2, Scene 4
• King Lear: Act 3, Scene 1
• King Lear: Act 3, Scene 2
• King Lear: Act 3, Scene 3
• King Lear: Act 3, Scene 4
• King Lear: Act 3, Scene 5
• King Lear: Act 3, Scene 6
• King Lear: Act 3, Scene 7
• King Lear: Act 4, Scene 1
• King Lear: Act 4, Scene 2
• King Lear: Act 4, Scene 3
• King Lear: Act 4, Scene 4
• King Lear: Act 4, Scene 5
• King Lear: Act 4, Scene 6
• King Lear: Act 4, Scene 7
• King Lear: Act 5, Scene 1
• King Lear: Act 5, Scene 2
• King Lear: Act 5, Scene 3

King Lear’s palace.

(Kent; Gloucester; Edmund; King Lear; Cornwall; Albany; Goneril; Regan; Cordelia; Attendants; Gloucester; France; Burgundy)

The Earls of Kent and Gloucester discuss the King’s project to divide the kingdom, remarking that it is impossible to tell which of his two sons-in-law he intends to treat best. Gloucester introduces his bastard son Edmund to Kent, making raunchy comments about him as he does so. Lear and his retinue enter. The King calls for the Duke of Burgundy and the King of France to be brought in, and while they are waiting explains that he is dividing his kingdom between his three daughters while he takes his retirement. To decide which daughter gets which portion, he asks them to tell him how much they love him. Goneril, the wife of the Duke of Albany, and Regan, the wife of the Duke of Cornwall, both speak flatteringly and are given their shares; but Cordelia, the youngest, unmarried, is unwilling to be a hypocrite and refuses to say anything. Pressed further, she makes a lukewarm declaration that enrages Lear. He disinherits her on the spot and splits the last third of the country between the elder daughters. Kent intervenes, attempting to calm Lear down, but the furious King exiles him for his pains. He informs the court that while he is giving up all political power to the two Dukes his sons-in-law, he will keep a hundred knights to serve him and go between their houses month by month, at their charge. Burgundy and France enter and are informed that Cordelia will no longer bring any dowry with her; Burgundy immediately abandons his suit, but the King of France chooses to marry her. Lear lets him take her without offering any blessing. Cordelia bids her sisters farewell. Left alone, Goneril and Regan discuss their father and his wayward temper, and agree to be on guard against him. (297 lines)

Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmund.

I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall.

It did always seem so to us; but now in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the Dukes he values most, for equalities are so weigh’d, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moi’ty.

Is not this your son, my lord?

His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge. I have so often blush’d to acknowledge him, that now I am braz’d to’t.

I cannot conceive you.

Sir, this young fellow’s mother could; whereupon she grew round-womb’d, and had indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.

But I have a son, sir, by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account. Though this knave came something saucily to the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair, there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledg’d. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?

No, my lord.

My Lord of Kent. Remember him hereafter as my honorable friend.

My services to your lordship.

I must love you, and sue to know you better.

Sir, I shall study deserving.

He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again.

Sound a sennet.

The King is coming.

Enter one bearing a coronet, then King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, and Attendants.

Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

I shall, my lord.

Exit with Edmund.

Mean time we shall express our darker purpose.

Give me the map there. Know that we have divided

In three our kingdom; and ’tis our fast intent

To shake all cares and business from our age,

Conferring them on younger strengths, while we

Unburden’d crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall,

And you, our no less loving son of Albany,

We have this hour a constant will to publish

Our daughters’ several dowers, that future strife

May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy,

Great rivals in our youngest daughter’s love,

Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn,

And here are to be answer’d. Tell me, my daughters

(Since now we will divest us both of rule,

Interest of territory, cares of state),

Which of you shall we say doth love us most,

That we our largest bounty may extend

Where nature doth with merit challenge? Goneril,

Our eldest-born, speak first.

Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter,

Dearer than eyesight, space, and liberty,

Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare,

No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor;

As much as child e’er lov’d, or father found;

A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable:

Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

What shall Cordelia speak? Love, and be silent.

Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,

With shadowy forests and with champains rich’d,

With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,

We make thee lady. To thine and Albany’s issue

Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter,

Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? Speak.

I am made of that self metal as my sister,

And prize me at her worth. In my true heart

I find she names my very deed of love;

Only she comes too short, that I profess

Myself an enemy to all other joys

Which the most precious square of sense possesses,

And find I am alone felicitate

In your dear Highness’ love.

Then poor Cordelia!

And yet not so, since I am sure my love’s

More ponderous than my tongue.

To thee and thine hereditary ever

Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom,

No less in space, validity, and pleasure,

Than that conferr’d on Goneril.—Now, our joy,

Although our last and least, to whose young love

The vines of France and milk of Burgundy

Strive to be interess’d, what can you say to draw

A third more opulent than your sisters’? Speak.

Nothing, my lord.

Nothing will come of nothing, speak again.

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave

My heart into my mouth. I love your Majesty

According to my bond, no more nor less.

How, how, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little,

Lest you may mar your fortunes.

Good my lord,

You have begot me, bred me, lov’d me: I

Return those duties back as are right fit,

Obey you, love you, and most honor you.

Why have my sisters husbands, if they say

They love you all? Happily, when I shall wed,

That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry

Half my love with him, half my care and duty.

Sure I shall never marry like my sisters,

To love my father all.

But goes thy heart with this?

Ay, my good lord.

So young, and so untender?

So young, my lord, and true.

Let it be so: thy truth then be thy dow’r!

For by the sacred radiance of the sun,

The mysteries of Hecat and the night;

By all the operation of the orbs,

From whom we do exist and cease to be;

Here I disclaim all my paternal care,

Propinquity and property of blood,

And as a stranger to my heart and me

Hold thee from this forever. The barbarous Scythian,

Or he that makes his generation messes

To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom

Be as well neighbor’d, pitied, and reliev’d,

As thou my sometime daughter.

Good my liege—

Peace, Kent!

Come not between the dragon and his wrath;

I lov’d her most, and thought to set my rest

On her kind nursery.

To Cordelia.

Hence, and avoid my sight!—

So be my grave my peace, as here I give

Her father’s heart from her. Call France. Who stirs?

Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany,

With my two daughters’ dow’rs digest the third;

Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her.

I do invest you jointly with my power,

Pre-eminence, and all the large effects

That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course,

With reservation of an hundred knights

By you to be sustain’d, shall our abode

Make with you by due turn. Only we shall retain

The name, and all th’ addition to a king;

The sway, revenue, execution of the rest,

Beloved sons, be yours, which to confirm,

This coronet part between you.

Royal Lear,

Whom I have ever honor’d as my king,

Lov’d as my father, as my master follow’d,

As my great patron thought on in my prayers—

The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.

Let it fall rather, though the fork invade

The region of my heart; be Kent unmannerly

When Lear is mad. What wouldest thou do, old man?

Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak

When power to flattery bows? To plainness honor’s bound,

When majesty falls to folly. Reserve thy state,

And in thy best consideration check

This hideous rashness. Answer my life my judgment,

Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least,

Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds

Reverb no hollowness.

Kent, on thy life, no more.

My life I never held but as a pawn

To wage against thine enemies, ne’er fear’d to lose it,

Thy safety being motive.

Out of my sight!

See better, Lear, and let me still remain

The true blank of thine eye.

Now, by Apollo—

Now, by Apollo, King,

Thou swear’st thy gods in vain.

O vassal! Miscreant!

Starts to draw his sword.

Dear sir, forbear.

Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow

Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift,

Or whilst I can vent clamor from my throat,

I’ll tell thee thou dost evil.

Hear me, recreant,

On thine allegiance, hear me!

That thou hast sought to make us break our vow—

Which we durst never yet—and with strain’d pride

To come betwixt our sentence and our power,

Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,

Our potency made good, take thy reward.

Five days we do allot thee, for provision

To shield thee from disasters of the world,

And on the sixth to turn thy hated back

Upon our kingdom. If, on the tenth day following,

Thy banish’d trunk be found in our dominions,

The moment is thy death. Away! By Jupiter,

This shall not be revok’d.

Fare thee well, King; sith thus thou wilt appear,

Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.

The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid,

That justly think’st and hast most rightly said!

To Regan and Goneril.

And your large speeches may your deeds approve,

That good effects may spring from words of love.

Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu,

He’ll shape his old course in a country new.

Flourish. Enter Gloucester with France and Burgundy, Attendants.

Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

My Lord of Burgundy,

We first address toward you, who with this king

Hath rivall’d for our daughter. What, in the least,

Will you require in present dower with her,

Or cease your quest of love?

Most royal Majesty,

I crave no more than hath your Highness offer’d,

Nor will you tender less.

Right noble Burgundy,

When she was dear to us, we did hold her so,

But now her price is fallen. Sir, there she stands:

If aught within that little seeming substance,

Or all of it, with our displeasure piec’d,

And nothing more, may fitly like your Grace,

She’s there, and she is yours.

I know no answer.

Will you, with those infirmities she owes,

Unfriended, new adopted to our hate,

Dow’r’d with our curse, and stranger’d with our oath,

Take her, or leave her?

Pardon me, royal sir,

Election makes not up in such conditions.

Then leave her, sir, for by the pow’r that made me,

I tell you all her wealth.

For you, great King,

I would not from your love make such a stray

To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you

T’ avert your liking a more worthier way

Than on a wretch whom Nature is asham’d

Almost t’ acknowledge hers.

This is most strange,

That she, whom even but now was your best object,

The argument of your praise, balm of your age,

The best, the dearest, should in this trice of time

Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle

So many folds of favor. Sure her offense

Must be of such unnatural degree

That monsters it, or your fore-vouch’d affection

Fall into taint; which to believe of her

Must be a faith that reason without miracle

Should never plant in me.

I yet beseech your Majesty—

If for I want that glib and oily art

To speak and purpose not, since what I well intend,

I’ll do’t before I speak—that you make known

It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness,

No unchaste action, or dishonored step,

That hath depriv’d me of your grace and favor,

But even for want of that for which I am richer—

A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue

That I am glad I have not, though not to have it

Hath lost me in your liking.

Better thou

Hadst not been born than not t’ have pleas’d me better.

Is it but this—a tardiness in nature

Which often leaves the history unspoke

That it intends to do? My Lord of Burgundy,

What say you to the lady? Love’s not love

When it is mingled with regards that stands

Aloof from th’ entire point. Will you have her?

She is herself a dowry.

Royal King,

Give but that portion which yourself propos’d,

And here I take Cordelia by the hand,

Duchess of Burgundy.

Nothing. I have sworn, I am firm.

I am sorry then you have so lost a father

That you must lose a husband.

Peace be with Burgundy!

Since that respects of fortune are his love,

I shall not be his wife.

Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor,

Most choice forsaken, and most lov’d despis’d,

Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon,

Be it lawful I take up what’s cast away.

Gods, gods! ’Tis strange that from their cold’st neglect

My love should kindle to inflam’d respect.

Thy dow’rless daughter, King, thrown to my chance,

Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France.

Not all the dukes of wat’rish Burgundy

Can buy this unpriz’d precious maid of me.

Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind,

Thou losest here, a better where to find.

Thou hast her, France, let her be thine, for we

Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see

That face of hers again.

Therefore be gone,

Without our grace, our love, our benison.—

Come, noble Burgundy.

Flourish. Exeunt all but France, Goneril, Regan, and Cordelia.

Bid farewell to your sisters.

The jewels of our father, with wash’d eyes

Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are,

And like a sister am most loath to call

Your faults as they are named. Love well our father;

To your professed bosoms I commit him,

But yet, alas, stood I within his grace,

I would prefer him to a better place.

So farewell to you both.

Prescribe not us our duty.

Let your study

Be to content your lord, who hath receiv’d you

At fortune’s alms. You have obedience scanted,

And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

Time shall unfold what plighted cunning hides,

Who covers faults, at last with shame derides.

Well may you prosper!

Come, my fair Cordelia.

Exeunt France and Cordelia.

Sister, it is not little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence tonight.

That’s most certain, and with you; next month with us.

You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been little. He always lov’d our sister most, and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly.

’Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.

The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look from his age to receive not alone the imperfections of long-ingraff’d condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them.

Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent’s banishment.

There is further compliment of leave-taking between France and him. Pray you let us hit together; if our father carry authority with such disposition as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.

We shall further think of it.

We must do something, and i’ th’ heat.

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Scene-by-scene.

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

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

Act 1 Scene 1

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

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

What do we Learn?

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

Act 1 Scene 2

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

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

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

Act 1 Scene 3

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

Act 1 Scene 4

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

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

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

Act 1 Scene 5

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

Things to Notice in Act 1

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

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

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

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

Act 2 Scene 1

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

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

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

Act 2 Scene 2

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

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

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

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

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

Things to Notice in Act 2

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

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

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

Act 3 Scene 1

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

Act 3 Scene 2

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

Act 3 Scene 3

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

Act 3 Scene 4

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

Act 3 Scene 5

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

Act 3 Scene 6

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

Act 3 Scene 7

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

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

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

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

Things to Notice in Act 3

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

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

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

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

Act 4 Scene 1

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

Act 4 Scene 2

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

Act 4 Scene 3

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

Act 4 Scene 4

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

Act 4 Scene 5

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

Act 4 Scene 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Act 4 Scene 7

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

Things to Notice in Act 4

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

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

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

Act 5 Scene 1

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

Act 5 Scene 2

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

Act 5 Scene 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things to Notice in Act 5

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

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

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

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

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King Lear Original Text: Act 1, Scene 1

This page contains the original text of Act 1, Scene 1 of King Lear . Shakespeare’s original King Lear text is extremely long, so we’ve split the text into one Scene per page. All Acts and Scenes are listed and linked to from the bottom of this page, along with a simple, modern English translation of King Lear .

ACT 1. SCENE 1. King Lear’s palace.

Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND

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

It did always seem so to us: but now, in the division of the kingdom, it appears not which of the dukes he values most; for equalities are so weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice of either’s moiety.

Is not this your son, my lord?

His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am brazed to it.

I cannot conceive you.

Sir, this young fellow’s mother could: whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it being so proper.

But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account: though this knave came something saucily into the world before he was sent for, yet was his mother fair; there was good sport at his making, and the whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?

No, my lord.

My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my honourable friend.

My services to your lordship.

I must love you, and sue to know you better.

Sir, I shall study deserving.

He hath been out nine years, and away he shall again. The king is coming.

Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants

Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester.

I shall, my liege.

Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND

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

Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty; Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; As much as child e’er loved, or father found; A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable; Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

[Aside] What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be silent.

Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, With shadowy forests and with champains rich’d, With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, We make thee lady: to thine and Albany’s issue Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter, Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.

Sir, I am made Of the self-same metal that my sister is, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart I find she names my very deed of love; Only she comes too short: that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys, Which the most precious square of sense possesses; And find I am alone felicitate In your dear highness’ love.

[Aside] Then poor Cordelia! And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love’s More richer than my tongue.

To thee and thine hereditary ever Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom; No less in space, validity, and pleasure, Than that conferr’d on Goneril. Now, our joy, Although the last, not least; to whose young love The vines of France and milk of Burgundy Strive to be interess’d; what can you say to draw A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.

Nothing, my lord.

Nothing will come of nothing: speak again.

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty According to my bond; nor more nor less.

How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little, Lest it may mar your fortunes.

Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you. Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry Half my love with him, half my care and duty: Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, To love my father all.

But goes thy heart with this?

Ay, good my lord.

So young, and so untender?

So young, my lord, and true.

Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower: For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate, and the night; By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist, and cease to be; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian, Or he that makes his generation messes To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom Be as well neighbour’d, pitied, and relieved, As thou my sometime daughter.

Good my liege,–

Peace, Kent! Come not between the dragon and his wrath. I loved her most, and thought to set my rest On her kind nursery. Hence, and avoid my sight! So be my grave my peace, as here I give Her father’s heart from her! Call France; who stirs? Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany, With my two daughters’ dowers digest this third: Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. I do invest you jointly with my power, Pre-eminence, and all the large effects That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course, With reservation of an hundred knights, By you to be sustain’d, shall our abode Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain The name, and all the additions to a king; The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm, This coronet part betwixt you.

Giving the crown

Royal Lear, Whom I have ever honour’d as my king, Loved as my father, as my master follow’d, As my great patron thought on in my prayers,–

The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft.

Let it fall rather, though the fork invade The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly, When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old man? Think’st thou that duty shall have dread to speak, When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour’s bound, When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom; And, in thy best consideration, cheque This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment, Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least; Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound Reverbs no hollowness.

Kent, on thy life, no more.

My life I never held but as a pawn To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to lose it, Thy safety being the motive.

Out of my sight!

See better, Lear; and let me still remain The true blank of thine eye.

Now, by Apollo,–

Now, by Apollo, king, Thou swear’st thy gods in vain.

O, vassal! miscreant!

Laying his hand on his sword

ALBANY   CORNWALL

Dear sir, forbear.

Do: Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom; Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, I’ll tell thee thou dost evil.

Hear me, recreant! On thine allegiance, hear me! Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, Which we durst never yet, and with strain’d pride To come between our sentence and our power, Which nor our nature nor our place can bear, Our potency made good, take thy reward. Five days we do allot thee, for provision To shield thee from diseases of the world; And on the sixth to turn thy hated back Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following, Thy banish’d trunk be found in our dominions, The moment is thy death. Away! by Jupiter, This shall not be revoked.

Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.

To CORDELIA

The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, That justly think’st, and hast most rightly said!

To REGAN and GONERIL

And your large speeches may your deeds approve, That good effects may spring from words of love. Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu; He’ll shape his old course in a country new.

Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with KING OF FRANCE, BURGUNDY, and Attendants

Here’s France and Burgundy, my noble lord.

My lord of Burgundy. We first address towards you, who with this king Hath rivall’d for our daughter: what, in the least, Will you require in present dower with her, Or cease your quest of love?

Most royal majesty, I crave no more than what your highness offer’d, Nor will you tender less.

Right noble Burgundy, When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; But now her price is fall’n. Sir, there she stands: If aught within that little seeming substance, Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced, And nothing more, may fitly like your grace, She’s there, and she is yours.

I know no answer.

Will you, with those infirmities she owes, Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, Dower’d with our curse, and stranger’d with our oath, Take her, or leave her?

Pardon me, royal sir; Election makes not up on such conditions.

Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me, I tell you all her wealth.

To KING OF FRANCE

For you, great king, I would not from your love make such a stray, To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you To avert your liking a more worthier way Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed Almost to acknowledge hers.

KING OF FRANCE

This is most strange, That she, that even but now was your best object, The argument of your praise, balm of your age, Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence Must be of such unnatural degree, That monsters it, or your fore-vouch’d affection Fall’n into taint: which to believe of her, Must be a faith that reason without miracle Could never plant in me.

I yet beseech your majesty,– If for I want that glib and oily art, To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend, I’ll do’t before I speak,–that you make known It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, No unchaste action, or dishonour’d step, That hath deprived me of your grace and favour; But even for want of that for which I am richer, A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue As I am glad I have not, though not to have it Hath lost me in your liking.

Better thou Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better.

Is it but this,–a tardiness in nature Which often leaves the history unspoke That it intends to do? My lord of Burgundy, What say you to the lady? Love’s not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? She is herself a dowry.

Royal Lear, Give but that portion which yourself proposed, And here I take Cordelia by the hand, Duchess of Burgundy.

Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm.

I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father That you must lose a husband.

Peace be with Burgundy! Since that respects of fortune are his love, I shall not be his wife.

Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor; Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised! Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon: Be it lawful I take up what’s cast away. Gods, gods! ’tis strange that from their cold’st neglect My love should kindle to inflamed respect. Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France: Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy Can buy this unprized precious maid of me. Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind: Thou losest here, a better where to find.

Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison. Come, noble Burgundy.

Flourish. Exeunt all but KING OF FRANCE, GONERIL, REGAN, and CORDELIA

Bid farewell to your sisters.

The jewels of our father, with wash’d eyes Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are; And like a sister am most loath to call Your faults as they are named. Use well our father: To your professed bosoms I commit him But yet, alas, stood I within his grace, I would prefer him to a better place. So, farewell to you both.

Prescribe not us our duties.

Let your study Be to content your lord, who hath received you At fortune’s alms. You have obedience scanted, And well are worth the want that you have wanted.

Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. Well may you prosper!

Come, my fair Cordelia.

Exeunt KING OF FRANCE and CORDELIA

Sister, it is not a little I have to say of what most nearly appertains to us both. I think our father will hence to-night.

That’s most certain, and with you; next month with us.

You see how full of changes his age is; the observation we have made of it hath not been little: he always loved our sister most; and with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off appears too grossly.

‘Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever but slenderly known himself.

The best and soundest of his time hath been but rash; then must we look to receive from his age, not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them.

Such unconstant starts are we like to have from him as this of Kent’s banishment.

There is further compliment of leavetaking between France and him. Pray you, let’s hit together: if our father carry authority with such dispositions as he bears, this last surrender of his will but offend us.

We shall further think on’t.

We must do something, and i’ the heat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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King Lear - Entire Play

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King Lear dramatizes the story of an aged king of ancient Britain, whose plan to divide his kingdom among his three daughters ends tragically. When he tests each by asking how much she loves him, the older daughters, Goneril and Regan, flatter him. The youngest, Cordelia, does not, and Lear disowns and banishes her. She marries the king of France. Goneril and Regan turn on Lear, leaving him to wander madly in a furious storm.

Meanwhile, the Earl of Gloucester’s illegitimate son Edmund turns Gloucester against his legitimate son, Edgar. Gloucester, appalled at the daughters’ treatment of Lear, gets news that a French army is coming to help Lear. Edmund betrays Gloucester to Regan and her husband, Cornwall, who puts out Gloucester’s eyes and makes Edmund the Earl of Gloucester.

Cordelia and the French army save Lear, but the army is defeated. Edmund imprisons Cordelia and Lear. Edgar then mortally wounds Edmund in a trial by combat. Dying, Edmund confesses that he has ordered the deaths of Cordelia and Lear. Before they can be rescued, Lear brings in Cordelia’s body and then he himself dies.

William Shakespeare, King Lear W. G. Clark, W. Aldis Wright, Ed.

("Agamemnon", "Hom. Od. 9.1", "denarius")

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• E. T. Merrill, Commentary on Catullus , 3
• Sir Richard C. Jebb, Commentary on Sophocles: Oedipus at Colonus , 4
• Dyce , addition
• Dyce , argument
• Dyce , benison
• Dyce , blank
• Dyce , champain
• Dyce , condition
• Dyce , curiosity
• Dyce , disease
• Dyce , fast
• Dyce , fork
• Dyce , generation
• Onions , Burgundy:
• Onions , Hecate
• Onions , abode
• Onions , addition
• Onions , address
• Onions , affect
• Onions , all:
• Onions , avert:
• Onions , blank
• Onions , bond
• Onions , brazed
• Onions , breath:
• Onions , challenge
• Onions , champaign:
• Onions , change
• Onions , choleric
• Onions , compliment
• Onions , conceive
• Onions , curiosity:
• Onions , dark
• Onions , deed:
• Onions , digest
• Onions , disclaim
• Onions , disease
• Onions , dishonour'd:
• Onions , dismantle:
• Onions , divest
• Onions , dower'd:
• Onions , draw
• Onions , effect
• Onions , empty-hearted:
• Onions , engraffed:
• Onions , entire
• Onions , evil
• Onions , execution
• Onions , fee
• Onions , felicitate
• Onions , fore-,
• Onions , fork:
• Onions , foulness:
• Onions , generation:
• Onions , good
• Onions , gross
• Onions , haply, happily:
• Onions , here:
• Onions , hideous:
• Onions , hit
• Onions , interess'd†:
• Onions , interest
• Onions , issue
• Onions , joy
• Onions , large
• Onions , least:
• Onions , lose
• Onions , make away,
• Onions , make
• Onions , mess:
• Onions , metal, mettle
• Onions , moiety
• Onions , monster
• Onions , sennet
• Schmidt , A
• Schmidt , Abode,
• Schmidt , Affect,

King Lear Shakescleare Translation

King Lear Translation Act 1, Scene 2

Enter EDMUND the bastard, with a letter

EDMUND enters with a letter.

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

Y ou, Nature, are my goddess, and I only serve the laws of nature. So why should I put up with the sick injustice of man-made social rules, which deprive me of rights just because I was born some twelve or fourteen months after my brother? Why call me a "bastard?" Why is a bastard inherently "worthless" when I'm as sound in my body and my mind as any legitimate child? Why do they call us "worthless," with "worthlessness," "bastard," "worthless," "worthless?" We bastards were at least conceived in a moment of passionate, stealthy lust, and so we have a stronger and fiercer nature than those shallow fools who were conceived in a dull, stale, tired marriage bed, where half-asleep couples churn out whole tribes of children. Well then, legitimate brother Edgar, I must have your land. Our father loves me just as much as he loves his legitimate son. What a fine word, "legitimate!" Well, my legitimate brother, if this letter succeeds and my plan goes well, Edmund the worthless will triumph over Edgar the legitimate. I will grow, I will prosper. Now, gods, stand up for the bastards!

Enter GLOUCESTER. EDMUND looks over his letter

GLOUCESTER enters. EDMUND looks over his letter.

Kent banished thus? And France in choler parted? And the king gone tonight, prescribed his power Confined to exhibition? All this done Upon the gad?—Edmund, how now? What news?

Has Kent really been banished like this? And the King of France has gone away angry? And King Lear has left tonight, having given up all his power except for some money and his title? All this done on the spur of the moment? Edmund, what's going on? What's the news?

[pocketing the letter] So please your lordship, none.

[Slipping the letter into his pocket] There is no news, my lord.

Everything you need for every book you read.

Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter?

Why are you being so secretive about that letter?

I know no news, my lord.

I don't have any news, my lord.

What paper were you reading?

What's that letter you were reading?

Nothing, my lord.

Nothing, my lord

No? What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of it into your pocket? The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. Let’s see. Come, if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles.

No? Why did you look so terrified and stuff it in your pocket then? If it's nothing, then there's no need to hide it. Let's see it. Come on, if it's nothing, I won't need my glasses to read it.

I beseech you, sir, pardon me. It is a letter from my brother that I have not all o'er-read. And for so much as I have perused, I find it not fit for your o'erlooking.

Please sir, forgive me. It's a letter from my brother that I haven't finished reading yet. And, judging by what I have read, it's not fit for you to look over.

Give me the letter, sir.

I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame.

I see that I'll offend you whether I keep it or give it to you. The only offensive thing is the content of the letter, as far as I can understand it.

[taking the letter] Let’s see, let’s see.

[Taking the letter] Let's see, let's see.

I hope, for my brother’s justification, he wrote this but as an essay or taste of my virtue.

I hope, for my brother's sake, that he wrote this just to test my virtue.

[reads] “This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times, keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways not as it hath power but as it is suffered. Come to me, that of this I may speak more. If our father would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue forever, and live the beloved of your brother, Edgar.” Hum, conspiracy? “'Sleep till I wake him, you should enjoy half his revenue”—my son Edgar? Had he a hand to write this, a heart and brain to breed it in? When came this to you? Who brought it?

[Reading]   "The craftiness of old men and society's custom of treating them with reverence makes life bitter for those of us in the prime of our lives, and keeps us from our inheritance until we're too old to enjoy it. I begin to see a kind of useless, foolish slavery in the oppressive power of the elderly—and they only have this power because we allow them to have it. Come visit me, so I can speak more about this. If our father should happen to go to his eternal rest, then you would enjoy half of his wealth forever, and live as my beloved brother. Edgar"   Hmm, is this a conspiracy? "If our father should happen to go to his eternal rest, then you would enjoy half of his wealth" —my son Edgar said this? How could he have a hand that would write such things, and a heart and brain to think them up? When did this letter come to you? Who brought it?

It was not brought me, my lord. There’s the cunning of it. I found it thrown in at the casement of my closet.

It wasn't brought to me, my lord. That's what's cunning about it. I found it. It had been thrown through the window of my room.

You know the character to be your brother’s?

And you're sure this is your brother's handwriting?

If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear it were his. But in respect of that, I would fain think it were not.

My lord, if the letter's contents were good, I would swear that it was his handwriting. But because of what the letter does say, I would rather believe otherwise.

It is his hand, my lord, but I hope his heart is not in the contents.

It is his handwriting, my lord. But I hope he didn't really mean what he said.

Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business?

Has he ever spoken to you about anything like this before?

Never, my lord. But I have heard him oft maintain it to be fit that, sons at perfect age and fathers declined, the father should be as ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue.

Never, my lord. But I've often heard him argue that when sons reach full maturity and their fathers grow old and feeble, the son should take care of the father, and manage his money.

O villain, villain! His very opinion in the letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, brutish villain—worse than brutish! Go, sirrah, seek him. I’ll apprehend him. Abominable villain! Where is he?

Oh, the villain, the villain! That's the same opinion he expresses in the letter! The hateful villain! The unnatural, hateful, beastly villain—worse than a beast! Go, sir , and find him. I'll arrest him. The abominable villain! Where is he?

I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please you to suspend your indignation against my brother till you can derive from him better testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain course— where if you violently proceed against him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your own honor and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life for him that he hath wrote this to feel my affection to your honor and to no other pretense of danger.

I don't know, my lord. If you can, you should restrain your anger against my brother until you can find out exactly what his intentions are. That would be a safer course. For if you immediately act violently against him and are mistaken about his purpose, then it would damage your own honor and badly hurt his loyalty to you. I would dare to bet my life that he wrote this letter only to test my love for you, and he didn't actually mean anything dangerous.

Think you so?

Do you think so?

If your honor judge it meet, I will place you where you shall hear us confer of this and by an auricular assurance have your satisfaction—and that without any further delay than this very evening.

If it would be acceptable to your sense of honor, I can hide you somewhere where you can hear us talking about the letter, and then you'll have the proof of your own hearing about his intentions. We can do it this very evening.

He cannot be such a monster—

He can't be such a monster—

Nor is not, sure.

I'm sure he isn't.

To his father, that so tenderly and entirely loves him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him out, wind me into him, I pray you. Frame the business after your own wisdom. I would unstate myself to be in a due resolution.

—to his own father, who so tenderly and completely loves him. By heaven and earth! Edmund, go find him, and gain his confidence for my sake, please. Do whatever needs to be done, and use your own common sense. I would give up anything to relieve my doubts.

I will seek him, sir, presently, convey the business as I shall find means, and acquaint you withal.

Sir, I'll find him immediately, and manage the business in the best way I can. Then I'll tell you everything.

These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide, in cities mutinies, in countries discord, in palaces treason, and the bond cracked ’twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction—there’s son against father. The king falls from bias of nature—there’s father against child. We have seen the best of our time. Machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out this villain, Edmund. It shall lose thee nothing. Do it carefully.—And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished, his offense honesty! 'Tis strange, strange.

These recent eclipses of the sun and moon are evil omens for us. Though science can explain how they happen, they are still omens, and bad things always follow eclipses. Love loses its passion, friendships fall apart, brothers become enemies, riots break out in cities, civil wars begin, treason infiltrates palaces, and the bond between fathers and sons is broken. This villainous son of mine fits the prediction of the bad omens—that's son against father. The king goes against his former nature—that's father against child. The best part of our age has passed. Schemes, emptiness, treachery, and chaos will follow us loudly to our graves. Find out the truth about this villain, Edmund. It won't damage your reputation. Just do it carefully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent has been banished, for the crime of being honest! It's strange, strange.

Exit GLOUCESTER

GLOUCESTER exits.

This is the excellent foppery of the world that when we are sick in fortune—often the surfeit of our own behavior—we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars, as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence, and all that we are evil in by a divine thrusting-on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star! My father compounded with my mother under the dragon’s tail and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows I am rough and lecherous. Fut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar—

This is the foolishness of the world, that when we are having bad luck—often because of our own excesses—we lay the blame for our disasters on the sun, the moon, and the stars, as if they forced us to be villains! As if we were fools because of the heavens' decree, or scoundrels, thieves, and traitors because of the influence of the planets, or drunkards, liars, and adulterers because the planets forced us to act that way. As if all our evil was the result of some divine compulsion! This is a good technique for avoiding blame, a trick by which a lustful man can blame his lechery on a star! My father slept with my mother under the influence of Draco, and I was born under the Big Dipper, so it naturally follows that I have a rude and lustful nature. Good God ! I would have turned out the way I am even if the most virginal star in the sky had twinkled over my conception. Edgar—

Enter EDGAR

EDGAR enters.

and pat on ’s cue 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.

And here he comes, right on cue, like the neat ending of a clichéd comedy. My role is to be falsely sad, and sigh like a crazy beggar . Oh, these eclipses are bad omens of such disasters! Fa, sol, la, mi.

How now, brother Edmund? What serious contemplation are you in?

How's it going, brother Edmund? What are you thinking about so seriously?

I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read this other day, what should follow these eclipses.

Brother, I am thinking of a prediction I read about the other day. An astrologer wrote about what will follow these eclipses.

Do you busy yourself about that?

Are you really wasting your time with such things?

I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily — as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent, death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities, divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against king and nobles, needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.

I promise you, the predictions he made keep getting worse—things like divisions among children and parents, death, famine, the breaking of old friendships, political fighting, treason and threats against kings and nobles, baseless suspicions, the banishment of friends, the desertion of troops, adultery, and I don't even know what else.

How long have you been a sectary astronomical?

How long have you been a follower of astrology?

Come, come. When saw you my father last?

Come now. When did you last see my father?

Why, the night gone by.

Why, just last night.

Spake you with him?

Did you speak with him?

Ay, two hours together.

Yes, we spent two hours together.

Parted you in good terms? Found you no displeasure in him by word or countenance?

Did you part on good terms? Did he seem displeased with you, in either his words or in his expression?

None at all.

Not at all.

Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him. And at my entreaty forbear his presence till some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him that with the mischief of your person it would scarcely allay.

Try to remember how you might have offended him. And let me advise you to avoid his presence until he has some time to let off his rage. At this moment his anger is so hot that even physically injuring you would hardly cool it down.

Some villain hath done me wrong.

Some villain has told a malicious lie about me.

That’s my fear. I pray you, have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower. And as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak. Pray ye, go. There’s my key. If you do stir abroad, go armed.

That's what I'm afraid of. But please, keep control of yourself until his rage slows down a little. And now come with me to my rooms, and at the right moment I'll bring you to hear my father speak. Please, go. There's my key. If you do go outside, arm yourself.

Armed, brother?

Arm myself, brother?

Brother, I advise you to the best. Go armed. I am no honest man if there be any good meaning towards you. I have told you what I have seen and heard—but faintly, nothing like the image and horror of it. Pray you, away.

Brother, I'm giving you the best advice I can. Arm yourself. I would be lying if I said that our father had good intentions towards you. I've told you what I've seen and heard—but only vaguely. I've toned down the horrible reality. Now please, go.

Shall I hear from you anon?

Will I hear from you soon?

I do serve you in this business.

Everything I'm doing in this business is to help you.

EDGAR exits.

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

A gullible father, and a noble brother, whose nature is so innocent of evil that he suspects no evil. My plots will easily work on his foolish honesty. I see what I must do. If I can't have lands by birthright, then let me have them through cunning. Everything that I can shape to fit my own purposes is good for me.

The Tragedy of King Lear

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