’Tis strange that they should so depart from home,
And not send back my messenger.
’Tis strange that they should so depart from home, And not send back my messenger.
’Tis strange that they should so depart from home, And not send back my messenger.
’Tis strange that they should so depart
As I learn’d,
The night before there was no purpose in them
Of this remove.
As I learn’d, The night before there was no purpose in them Of this remove.
As I learn’d, The night before there was no purpose in them Of this remove.
As I learn’d, The night before there was
Hail to thee, noble master!
Hail to thee, noble master!
Hail to thee, noble master!
Hail to thee, noble master!
Ha! Mak’st thou this shame thy pastime?
Ha! Mak’st thou this shame thy pastime?
Ha! Mak’st thou this shame thy pastime?
Ha! Mak’st thou this shame thy pastime?
No, my lord.
No, my lord.
No, my lord.
No, my lord.
Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the
heads; dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and
men by the legs: when a man is overlusty at legs, then he
wears wooden nether-stocks.
Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the heads; dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs: when a man is overlusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks.
Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied by the heads; dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by the loins, and men by the legs: when a man is overlusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether-stocks.
Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses a
What’s he that hath so much thy place mistook
To set thee here?
What’s he that hath so much thy place mistook To set thee here?
What’s he that hath so much thy place mistook To set thee here?
What’s he that hath so much thy place mi
It is both he and she,
Your son and daughter.
It is both he and she, Your son and daughter.
It is both he and she, Your son and daughter.
It is both he and she, Your son and daug
No.
No.
No.
No.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
No, I say.
No, I say.
No, I say.
No, I say.
I say, yea.
I say, yea.
I say, yea.
I say, yea.
No, no; they would not.
No, no; they would not.
No, no; they would not.
No, no; they would not.
Yes, they have.
Yes, they have.
Yes, they have.
Yes, they have.
By Jupiter, I swear no.
By Jupiter, I swear no.
By Jupiter, I swear no.
By Jupiter, I swear no.
By Juno, I swear ay.
By Juno, I swear ay.
By Juno, I swear ay.
By Juno, I swear ay.
They durst not do’t.
They could not, would not do’t; ’tis worse than murder,
To do upon respect such violent outrage:
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way
Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage,
Coming from us.
They durst not do’t. They could not, would not do’t; ’tis worse than murder, To do upon respect such violent outrage: Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage, Coming from us.
They durst not do’t. They could not, would not do’t; ’tis worse than murder, To do upon respect such violent outrage: Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way Thou mightst deserve or they impose this usage, Coming from us.
They durst not do’t. They could not, wou
My lord, when at their home
I did commend your highness’ letters to them,
Ere I was risen from the place that show’d
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post,
Stew’d in his haste, half breathless, panting forth
From Goneril his mistress salutations;
Deliver’d letters, spite of intermission,
Which presently they read; on those contents,
They summon’d up their meiny, straight took horse;
Commanded me to follow and attend
The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks:
And meeting here the other messenger,
Whose welcome I perceiv’d had poison’d mine,
Being the very fellow which of late
Display’d so saucily against your highness,
Having more man than wit about me, drew;
He rais’d the house with loud and coward cries.
Your son and daughter found this trespass worth
The shame which here it suffers.
My lord, when at their home I did commend your highness’ letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that show’d My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, Stew’d in his haste, half breathless, panting forth From Goneril his mistress salutations; Deliver’d letters, spite of intermission, Which
My lord, when at their home I did commend your highness’ letters to them, Ere I was risen from the place that show’d My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, Stew’d in his haste, half breathless, panting forth From Goneril his mistress salutations; Deliver’d letters, spite of intermission, Which
My lord, when at their home I did commen
Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind,
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne’er turns the key to th’ poor.
But for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy
daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way. Fathers that wear rags Do make their children blind, But fathers that bear bags Shall see their children kind. Fortune, that arrant whore, Ne’er turns the key to th’ poor. But for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters as th
Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way. Fathers that wear rags Do make their children blind, But fathers that bear bags Shall see their children kind. Fortune, that arrant whore, Ne’er turns the key to th’ poor. But for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughters as th
Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild geese
O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!
_Hysterica passio_, down, thou climbing sorrow,
Thy element’s below! Where is this daughter?
O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! _Hysterica passio_, down, thou climbing sorrow, Thy element’s below! Where is this daughter?
O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! _Hysterica passio_, down, thou climbing sorrow, Thy element’s below! Where is this daughter?
O, how this mother swells up toward my h
With the earl, sir, here within.
With the earl, sir, here within.
With the earl, sir, here within.
With the earl, sir, here within.
Follow me not; stay here.
Follow me not; stay here.
Follow me not; stay here.
Follow me not; stay here.
Made you no more offence but what you speak of?
Made you no more offence but what you speak of?
Made you no more offence but what you speak of?
Made you no more offence but what you sp
None.
How chance the King comes with so small a number?
None. How chance the King comes with so small a number?
None. How chance the King comes with so small a number?
None. How chance the King comes with so
An thou hadst been set i’ the stocks for that question,
thou hadst well deserved it.
An thou hadst been set i’ the stocks for that question, thou hadst well deserved it.
An thou hadst been set i’ the stocks for that question, thou hadst well deserved it.
An thou hadst been set i’ the stocks for
Why, fool?
Why, fool?
Why, fool?
Why, fool?
We’ll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there’s no
labouring i’the winter. All that follow their noses are led by
their eyes but blind men; and there’s not a nose among twenty
but can smell him that’s stinking. Let go thy hold when a great
wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following
it; but the great one that goes upward, let him draw thee after.
When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I
would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.
That sir which serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:
The knave turns fool that runs away;
The fool no knave perdy.
We’ll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there’s no labouring i’the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and there’s not a nose among twenty but can smell him that’s stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck wit
We’ll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there’s no labouring i’the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and there’s not a nose among twenty but can smell him that’s stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck wit
We’ll set thee to school to an ant, to t
Where learn’d you this, fool?
Where learn’d you this, fool?
Where learn’d you this, fool?
Where learn’d you this, fool?
Not i’ the stocks, fool.
Not i’ the stocks, fool.
Not i’ the stocks, fool.
Not i’ the stocks, fool.
Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary?
They have travell’d all the night? Mere fetches;
The images of revolt and flying off.
Fetch me a better answer.
Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary? They have travell’d all the night? Mere fetches; The images of revolt and flying off. Fetch me a better answer.
Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary? They have travell’d all the night? Mere fetches; The images of revolt and flying off. Fetch me a better answer.
Deny to speak with me? They are sick? th
My dear lord,
You know the fiery quality of the Duke;
How unremovable and fix’d he is
In his own course.
My dear lord, You know the fiery quality of the Duke; How unremovable and fix’d he is In his own course.
My dear lord, You know the fiery quality of the Duke; How unremovable and fix’d he is In his own course.
My dear lord, You know the fiery quality
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion!
Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester,
I’d speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, I’d speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! Fiery? What quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, I’d speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.
Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! Fie
Well, my good lord, I have inform’d them so.
Well, my good lord, I have inform’d them so.
Well, my good lord, I have inform’d them so.
Well, my good lord, I have inform’d them
Inform’d them! Dost thou understand me, man?
Inform’d them! Dost thou understand me, man?
Inform’d them! Dost thou understand me, man?
Inform’d them! Dost thou understand me,
Ay, my good lord.
Ay, my good lord.
Ay, my good lord.
Ay, my good lord.
The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear father
Would with his daughter speak, commands, tends, service,
Are they inform’d of this? My breath and blood!
Fiery? The fiery Duke, tell the hot Duke that—
No, but not yet: maybe he is not well:
Infirmity doth still neglect all office
Whereto our health is bound: we are not ourselves
When nature, being oppress’d, commands the mind
To suffer with the body: I’ll forbear;
And am fallen out with my more headier will,
To take the indispos’d and sickly fit
For the sound man. [_Looking on Kent._]
Death on my state! Wherefore
Should he sit here? This act persuades me
That this remotion of the Duke and her
Is practice only. Give me my servant forth.
Go tell the Duke and’s wife I’d speak with them,
Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me,
Or at their chamber door I’ll beat the drum
Till it cry sleep to death.
The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands, tends, service, Are they inform’d of this? My breath and blood! Fiery? The fiery Duke, tell the hot Duke that— No, but not yet: maybe he is not well: Infirmity doth still neglect all office Whereto our healt
The King would speak with Cornwall; the dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands, tends, service, Are they inform’d of this? My breath and blood! Fiery? The fiery Duke, tell the hot Duke that— No, but not yet: maybe he is not well: Infirmity doth still neglect all office Whereto our healt
The King would speak with Cornwall; the
I would have all well betwixt you.
I would have all well betwixt you.
I would have all well betwixt you.
I would have all well betwixt you.
O me, my heart, my rising heart! But down!
O me, my heart, my rising heart! But down!
O me, my heart, my rising heart! But down!
O me, my heart, my rising heart! But dow
Lear's speech beginning 'O, reason not the need' is the play's philosophical center. He has just been told, in effect, that he doesn't need any servants because Goneril's and Regan's households already provide for him. His response is not just hurt feelings — it's an argument.
His point: the measure of human life is not bare survival. 'Our basest beggars are in the poorest thing superfluous' — even the most wretched person has something beyond absolute necessity. Strip everything beyond pure need and human life becomes animal life. He illustrates this with Regan herself: she's wearing fine clothes that barely keep her warm. Are those 'needed'? By the daughters' logic, no. But stripping them would not make her more human — it would humiliate her.
The argument is correct. Dignity, ceremony, relationship, the right to have what you've chosen to have — these are what separate human life from mere existence. The daughters' arithmetic (fifty, twenty-five, ten, five, one, none) treats people as if they were inventory. Lear's speech refuses that logic.
But here's the irony the play builds in: Lear is making this argument at the moment when he is about to be turned out to survive on the heath. He will encounter, in the storm, a man (Edgar as Poor Tom) who has genuinely been stripped to nothing. Meeting that man will teach Lear what his speech only argues for abstractly. 'Is man no more than this?' will be his question in 3-4. He doesn't know the answer yet. He's about to find out.
Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put ’em
i’ the paste alive; she knapped ’em o’ the coxcombs
with a stick and cried ‘Down, wantons, down!’ ’Twas
her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse buttered his hay.
Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put ’em i’ the paste alive; she knapped ’em o’ the coxcombs with a stick and cried ‘Down, wantons, down!’ ’Twas her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse buttered his hay.
Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put ’em i’ the paste alive; she knapped ’em o’ the coxcombs with a stick and cried ‘Down, wantons, down!’ ’Twas her brother that, in pure kindness to his horse buttered his hay.
Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to
Good morrow to you both.
Good morrow to you both.
Good morrow to you both.
Good morrow to you both.
Hail to your grace!
Hail to your grace!
Hail to your grace!
Hail to your grace!
I am glad to see your highness.
I am glad to see your highness.
I am glad to see your highness.
I am glad to see your highness.
Regan, I think you are; I know what reason
I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad,
I would divorce me from thy mother’s tomb,
Sepulchring an adultress. [_To Kent_] O, are you free?
Some other time for that.—Beloved Regan,
Thy sister’s naught: O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth’d unkindness, like a vulture, here.
Regan, I think you are; I know what reason I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother’s tomb, Sepulchring an adultress. [_To Kent_] O, are you free? Some other time for that.—Beloved Regan, Thy sister’s naught: O Regan, she hath tied Sharp-tooth’d unkindness
Regan, I think you are; I know what reason I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother’s tomb, Sepulchring an adultress. [_To Kent_] O, are you free? Some other time for that.—Beloved Regan, Thy sister’s naught: O Regan, she hath tied Sharp-tooth’d unkindness
Regan, I think you are; I know what reas
I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope
You less know how to value her desert
Than she to scant her duty.
I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope You less know how to value her desert Than she to scant her duty.
I pray you, sir, take patience. I have hope You less know how to value her desert Than she to scant her duty.
I pray you, sir, take patience. I have h
Say, how is that?
Say, how is that?
Say, how is that?
Say, how is that?
I cannot think my sister in the least
Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance
She have restrain’d the riots of your followers,
’Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end,
As clears her from all blame.
I cannot think my sister in the least Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance She have restrain’d the riots of your followers, ’Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, As clears her from all blame.
I cannot think my sister in the least Would fail her obligation. If, sir, perchance She have restrain’d the riots of your followers, ’Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, As clears her from all blame.
I cannot think my sister in the least Wo
My curses on her.
My curses on her.
My curses on her.
My curses on her.
O, sir, you are old;
Nature in you stands on the very verge
Of her confine: you should be rul’d and led
By some discretion, that discerns your state
Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you,
That to our sister you do make return;
Say you have wrong’d her, sir.
O, sir, you are old; Nature in you stands on the very verge Of her confine: you should be rul’d and led By some discretion, that discerns your state Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you, That to our sister you do make return; Say you have wrong’d her, sir.
O, sir, you are old; Nature in you stands on the very verge Of her confine: you should be rul’d and led By some discretion, that discerns your state Better than you yourself. Therefore I pray you, That to our sister you do make return; Say you have wrong’d her, sir.
O, sir, you are old; Nature in you stand
Ask her forgiveness?
Do you but mark how this becomes the house?
‘Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;
Ask her forgiveness? Do you but mark how this becomes the house? ‘Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;
Ask her forgiveness? Do you but mark how this becomes the house? ‘Dear daughter, I confess that I am old;
Ask her forgiveness? Do you but mark how
Good sir, no more! These are unsightly tricks:
Return you to my sister.
Good sir, no more! These are unsightly tricks: Return you to my sister.
Good sir, no more! These are unsightly tricks: Return you to my sister.
Good sir, no more! These are unsightly t
She hath abated me of half my train;
Look’d black upon me; struck me with her tongue,
Most serpent-like, upon the very heart.
All the stor’d vengeances of heaven fall
On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones,
You taking airs, with lameness!
She hath abated me of half my train; Look’d black upon me; struck me with her tongue, Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. All the stor’d vengeances of heaven fall On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, You taking airs, with lameness!
She hath abated me of half my train; Look’d black upon me; struck me with her tongue, Most serpent-like, upon the very heart. All the stor’d vengeances of heaven fall On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, You taking airs, with lameness!
She hath abated me of half my train; Loo
Fie, sir, fie!
Fie, sir, fie!
Fie, sir, fie!
Fie, sir, fie!
You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty,
You fen-suck’d fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
To fall and blast her pride!
You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, You fen-suck’d fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, To fall and blast her pride!
You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, You fen-suck’d fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, To fall and blast her pride!
You nimble lightnings, dart your blindin
O the blest gods!
So will you wish on me when the rash mood is on.
O the blest gods! So will you wish on me when the rash mood is on.
O the blest gods! So will you wish on me when the rash mood is on.
O the blest gods! So will you wish on me
No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse.
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give
Thee o’er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce; but thine
Do comfort, and not burn. ’Tis not in thee
To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train,
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes,
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt
Against my coming in. Thou better know’st
The offices of nature, bond of childhood,
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude;
Thy half o’ the kingdom hast thou not forgot,
Wherein I thee endow’d.
No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse. Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give Thee o’er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce; but thine Do comfort, and not burn. ’Tis not in thee To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, And, in conclusion, to oppose the
No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse. Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give Thee o’er to harshness. Her eyes are fierce; but thine Do comfort, and not burn. ’Tis not in thee To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, And, in conclusion, to oppose the
No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curs
Good sir, to the purpose.
Good sir, to the purpose.
Good sir, to the purpose.
Good sir, to the purpose.
Who put my man i’ the stocks?
Who put my man i’ the stocks?
Who put my man i’ the stocks?
Who put my man i’ the stocks?
What trumpet’s that?
What trumpet’s that?
What trumpet’s that?
What trumpet’s that?
I know’t, my sister’s: this approves her letter,
That she would soon be here.
I know’t, my sister’s: this approves her letter, That she would soon be here.
I know’t, my sister’s: this approves her letter, That she would soon be here.
I know’t, my sister’s: this approves her
This is a slave, whose easy borrowed pride
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows.
Out, varlet, from my sight!
This is a slave, whose easy borrowed pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. Out, varlet, from my sight!
This is a slave, whose easy borrowed pride Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. Out, varlet, from my sight!
This is a slave, whose easy borrowed pri
What means your grace?
What means your grace?
What means your grace?
What means your grace?
Who stock’d my servant? Regan, I have good hope
Thou didst not know on’t. Who comes here? O heavens!
Who stock’d my servant? Regan, I have good hope Thou didst not know on’t. Who comes here? O heavens!
Who stock’d my servant? Regan, I have good hope Thou didst not know on’t. Who comes here? O heavens!
Who stock’d my servant? Regan, I have go
The stripping of Lear's retinue in 2-4 looks like a spontaneous escalation — one sister outbidding the other in cruelty. But it was planned. The planning started in 1-3, when Goneril told Oswald to treat Lear's household with contempt and wrote a letter to Regan. It continued when Regan and Cornwall left their home to go to Gloucester's neutral castle. It culminated when Regan took Goneril's hand as the sisters stood together before Lear.
The 'auction' of knights — fifty, twenty-five, ten, five, one, none — has the quality of a rehearsed scene. Regan knows to underbid Goneril so that Lear chooses Goneril, then Goneril can cut below Regan's offer, and so on. The practical result (zero retainers) was the goal from the beginning, in 1-3, when Goneril said 'we must do something, and i' the heat.'
What makes this cruelty different from ordinary villainy is its systemic quality. Neither daughter acts from passion or impulse — they act from strategy. Goneril plans several moves ahead; Regan executes without hesitation. Together they are more effective than either would be alone. The play uses this coordination as its darkest vision of what children can become when they are raised to see parents as power to be managed rather than people to be loved.
Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended?
All’s not offence that indiscretion finds
And dotage terms so.
Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended? All’s not offence that indiscretion finds And dotage terms so.
Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended? All’s not offence that indiscretion finds And dotage terms so.
Why not by the hand, sir? How have I off
O sides, you are too tough!
Will you yet hold? How came my man i’ the stocks?
O sides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold? How came my man i’ the stocks?
O sides, you are too tough! Will you yet hold? How came my man i’ the stocks?
O sides, you are too tough! Will you yet
I set him there, sir: but his own disorders
Deserv’d much less advancement.
I set him there, sir: but his own disorders Deserv’d much less advancement.
I set him there, sir: but his own disorders Deserv’d much less advancement.
I set him there, sir: but his own disord
You? Did you?
You? Did you?
You? Did you?
You? Did you?
I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
If, till the expiration of your month,
You will return and sojourn with my sister,
Dismissing half your train, come then to me:
I am now from home, and out of that provision
Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. If, till the expiration of your month, You will return and sojourn with my sister, Dismissing half your train, come then to me: I am now from home, and out of that provision Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. If, till the expiration of your month, You will return and sojourn with my sister, Dismissing half your train, come then to me: I am now from home, and out of that provision Which shall be needful for your entertainment.
I pray you, father, being weak, seem so.
Return to her, and fifty men dismiss’d?
No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose
To wage against the enmity o’ the air;
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,
Necessity’s sharp pinch! Return with her?
Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took
Our youngest born, I could as well be brought
To knee his throne, and, squire-like, pension beg
To keep base life afoot. Return with her?
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter
To this detested groom.
Return to her, and fifty men dismiss’d? No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enmity o’ the air; To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, Necessity’s sharp pinch! Return with her? Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took Our youngest born, I could as well be brought To
Return to her, and fifty men dismiss’d? No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose To wage against the enmity o’ the air; To be a comrade with the wolf and owl, Necessity’s sharp pinch! Return with her? Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took Our youngest born, I could as well be brought To
Return to her, and fifty men dismiss’d?
At your choice, sir.
At your choice, sir.
At your choice, sir.
At your choice, sir.
I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad:
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell:
We’ll no more meet, no more see one another.
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter;
Or rather a disease that’s in my flesh,
Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil,
A plague sore, or embossed carbuncle
In my corrupted blood. But I’ll not chide thee;
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it:
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove:
Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure:
I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
I and my hundred knights.
I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad: I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: We’ll no more meet, no more see one another. But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; Or rather a disease that’s in my flesh, Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil, A plague sore, or embossed carbu
I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad: I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: We’ll no more meet, no more see one another. But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; Or rather a disease that’s in my flesh, Which I must needs call mine. Thou art a boil, A plague sore, or embossed carbu
I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad:
Not altogether so,
I look’d not for you yet, nor am provided
For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister;
For those that mingle reason with your passion
Must be content to think you old, and so—
But she knows what she does.
Not altogether so, I look’d not for you yet, nor am provided For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; For those that mingle reason with your passion Must be content to think you old, and so— But she knows what she does.
Not altogether so, I look’d not for you yet, nor am provided For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; For those that mingle reason with your passion Must be content to think you old, and so— But she knows what she does.
Not altogether so, I look’d not for you
Is this well spoken?
Is this well spoken?
Is this well spoken?
Is this well spoken?
I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers?
Is it not well? What should you need of more?
Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger
Speak ’gainst so great a number? How in one house
Should many people, under two commands,
Hold amity? ’Tis hard; almost impossible.
I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers? Is it not well? What should you need of more? Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger Speak ’gainst so great a number? How in one house Should many people, under two commands, Hold amity? ’Tis hard; almost impossible.
I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers? Is it not well? What should you need of more? Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger Speak ’gainst so great a number? How in one house Should many people, under two commands, Hold amity? ’Tis hard; almost impossible.
I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty follo
Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance
From those that she calls servants, or from mine?
Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance From those that she calls servants, or from mine?
Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance From those that she calls servants, or from mine?
Why might not you, my lord, receive atte
Why not, my lord? If then they chanc’d to slack ye,
We could control them. If you will come to me,—
For now I spy a danger,—I entreat you
To bring but five-and-twenty: to no more
Will I give place or notice.
Why not, my lord? If then they chanc’d to slack ye, We could control them. If you will come to me,— For now I spy a danger,—I entreat you To bring but five-and-twenty: to no more Will I give place or notice.
Why not, my lord? If then they chanc’d to slack ye, We could control them. If you will come to me,— For now I spy a danger,—I entreat you To bring but five-and-twenty: to no more Will I give place or notice.
Why not, my lord? If then they chanc’d t
I gave you all,—
I gave you all,—
I gave you all,—
I gave you all,—
And in good time you gave it.
And in good time you gave it.
And in good time you gave it.
And in good time you gave it.
Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
But kept a reservation to be followed
With such a number. What, must I come to you
With five-and-twenty, Regan, said you so?
Made you my guardians, my depositaries; But kept a reservation to be followed With such a number. What, must I come to you With five-and-twenty, Regan, said you so?
Made you my guardians, my depositaries; But kept a reservation to be followed With such a number. What, must I come to you With five-and-twenty, Regan, said you so?
Made you my guardians, my depositaries;
And speak’t again my lord; no more with me.
And speak’t again my lord; no more with me.
And speak’t again my lord; no more with me.
And speak’t again my lord; no more with
Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour’d
When others are more wicked; not being the worst
Stands in some rank of praise.
Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour’d When others are more wicked; not being the worst Stands in some rank of praise.
Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour’d When others are more wicked; not being the worst Stands in some rank of praise.
Those wicked creatures yet do look well-
Hear me, my lord:
What need you five-and-twenty? Ten? Or five?
To follow in a house where twice so many
Have a command to tend you?
Hear me, my lord: What need you five-and-twenty? Ten? Or five? To follow in a house where twice so many Have a command to tend you?
Hear me, my lord: What need you five-and-twenty? Ten? Or five? To follow in a house where twice so many Have a command to tend you?
Hear me, my lord: What need you five-and
What need one?
What need one?
What need one?
What need one?
O, reason not the need: our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous:
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man’s life is cheap as beast’s. Thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear’st
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,—
You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need!
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man,
As full of grief as age; wretched in both!
If it be you that stirs these daughters’ hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger,
And let not women’s weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man’s cheeks! No, you unnatural hags,
I will have such revenges on you both
That all the world shall,—I will do such things,—
What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be
The terrors of the earth. You think I’ll weep;
No, I’ll not weep:— [_Storm and tempest._]
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws
Or ere I’ll weep.—O fool, I shall go mad!
O, reason not the need: our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous: Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man’s life is cheap as beast’s. Thou art a lady; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear’st Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true
O, reason not the need: our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous: Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man’s life is cheap as beast’s. Thou art a lady; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear’st Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true
O, reason not the need: our basest begga
Let us withdraw; ’twill be a storm.
Let us withdraw; ’twill be a storm.
Let us withdraw; ’twill be a storm.
Let us withdraw; ’twill be a storm.
This house is little: the old man and his people
Cannot be well bestow’d.
This house is little: the old man and his people Cannot be well bestow’d.
This house is little: the old man and his people Cannot be well bestow’d.
This house is little: the old man and hi
’Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest
And must needs taste his folly.
’Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest And must needs taste his folly.
’Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest And must needs taste his folly.
’Tis his own blame; hath put himself fro
For his particular, I’ll receive him gladly,
But not one follower.
For his particular, I’ll receive him gladly, But not one follower.
For his particular, I’ll receive him gladly, But not one follower.
For his particular, I’ll receive him gla
So am I purpos’d.
Where is my lord of Gloucester?
So am I purpos’d. Where is my lord of Gloucester?
So am I purpos’d. Where is my lord of Gloucester?
So am I purpos’d. Where is my lord of Gl
Followed the old man forth, he is return’d.
Followed the old man forth, he is return’d.
Followed the old man forth, he is return’d.
Followed the old man forth, he is return
The King is in high rage.
The King is in high rage.
The King is in high rage.
The King is in high rage.
Whither is he going?
Whither is he going?
Whither is he going?
Whither is he going?
He calls to horse; but will I know not whither.
He calls to horse; but will I know not whither.
He calls to horse; but will I know not whither.
He calls to horse; but will I know not w
’Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.
’Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.
’Tis best to give him way; he leads himself.
’Tis best to give him way; he leads hims
My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
My lord, entreat him by no means to stay.
My lord, entreat him by no means to stay
Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds
Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about
There’s scarce a bush.
Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about There’s scarce a bush.
Alack, the night comes on, and the high winds Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about There’s scarce a bush.
Alack, the night comes on, and the high
O, sir, to wilful men
The injuries that they themselves procure
Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors.
He is attended with a desperate train,
And what they may incense him to, being apt
To have his ear abus’d, wisdom bids fear.
O, sir, to wilful men The injuries that they themselves procure Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors. He is attended with a desperate train, And what they may incense him to, being apt To have his ear abus’d, wisdom bids fear.
O, sir, to wilful men The injuries that they themselves procure Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors. He is attended with a desperate train, And what they may incense him to, being apt To have his ear abus’d, wisdom bids fear.
O, sir, to wilful men The injuries that
Shut up your doors, my lord; ’tis a wild night.
My Regan counsels well: come out o’ the storm.
Shut up your doors, my lord; ’tis a wild night. My Regan counsels well: come out o’ the storm.
Shut up your doors, my lord; ’tis a wild night. My Regan counsels well: come out o’ the storm.
Shut up your doors, my lord; ’tis a wild
The Reckoning
Lear arrives at Gloucester's castle to find Kent in the stocks. He cannot believe it — his first response is denial. Gloucester admits it was Cornwall and Regan. Regan appears, cold from the start; Goneril arrives to join her. Together, they reduce Lear's retinue in a kind of auction of cruelty: fifty knights, says Regan. Twenty-five, says Goneril. Ten, says Regan. Five. One. None. Lear's response — 'O, reason not the need' — is the play's most important speech about what it means to be human. He runs out into the gathering storm. Both daughters remain inside, indifferent to the weather. The storm begins.
If this happened today…
The retired CEO arrives at the second daughter's office to find that his EA has been locked in a storage room all night, per the first daughter's instructions. The second daughter appears and says: maybe twenty people on your team. The first daughter arrives: actually ten. Twenty. Ten. Five. Zero. Whatever you need, you have nothing. The CEO's CFO watches this happen and has no power to stop it. The CEO walks out into a rainstorm with his jester. Both daughters go back upstairs.