THE TRAGEDY OF KING LEAR

LEAR, King of Britain.
GONERIL, Lear's oldest daughter.
REGAN, Lear's second daughter.
CORDELIA, Lear's youngest daughter.
DUKE of ALBANY, married to Goneril.
DUKE of CORNWALL, married to Regan.
KING of FRANCE.
DUKE of BURGUNDY.
EARL of GLOUCESTER.
EDGAR, Gloucester's older son.
EDMUND, Gloucester's younger illegitimate son.
EARL of KENT.
FOOL.
OSWALD, Goneril's steward.
CURAN, a courtier.
OLD MAN, Gloucester's tenant.
Physician.
An officer working for Edmund.
Gentleman, attendant to Cordelia.
A herald.
Servants to Cornwall.

Knights serving the King, Officers, Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants.

Enter Kent, Gloucester and Edmund.

KENT.
I thought the King preferred the Duke of Albany over Cornwall.

GLOUCESTER.
It always seemed that way to us; but now, with the kingdom divided, it’s unclear which Duke he values more, since the qualities are balanced in such a way that neither curiosity can choose between their parts.

KENT.
Is this not your son, my lord?

GLOUCESTER.
I’ve paid for his upbringing, sir; I’ve been so embarrassed to admit it that now I’m totally over it.

KENT.
I can't understand you.

GLOUCESTER.
Sir, this young man's mother could; as a result, she became pregnant and actually had a son in her cradle before she had a husband for her bed. Do you notice a problem?

KENT.
I can't wish the mistake away, especially since the result is so fitting.

GLOUCESTER.
But I have a son, sir, by law, who is some years older than this one, and he isn’t any more valuable to me: even though this little brat showed up a bit too early, his mother was lovely; there was quite the story behind his conception, and the scoundrel needs to be recognized. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?

EDMUND.
No, sir.

GLOUCESTER.
My Lord of Kent: think of him as my respected friend from now on.

EDMUND.
I'm at your service, my lord.

KENT.
I really want to love you and get to know you better.

EDMUND.
Sir, I will study deserving.

GLOUCESTER.
He’s been away for nine years, and he’ll be leaving again. The King is coming.

Sennet inside.

Enter Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia and Attendants.

LEAR.
Meet with the lords of France and Burgundy,
Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER.
Sure thing, my lord.

[Exit Gloucester and Edmund.]

LEAR.
Meanwhile, let’s share our true intentions.
Bring me the map. Know that we have divided
Our kingdom into three: and it’s our firm intention
To let go of all responsibilities and concerns of our age;
Handing them off to younger minds while we
Unburdened, crawl towards death. Our son of Cornwall,
And you, our equally beloved son of Albany,
Right now we intend to announce
The dowries of our daughters, to prevent any future conflicts
From arising. The princes, France and Burgundy,
Great competitors for our youngest daughter’s affection,
Have long been making their romantic advances at our court,
And it’s time to respond. Tell me, my daughters,—
Since we are ready to give up our power,
The claims to land, the responsibilities of state,—
Which of you can say you loves us the most?
So that we can give our greatest rewards
Where nature deserves to be matched with merit.—Goneril,
Our eldest born, you speak first.

GONERIL.
Sir, I love you more than words can express;
Dearer than sight, freedom, and space;
Worth more than anything valuable, precious, or rare;
No less than life itself, with grace, health, beauty, and honor;
As much as any child has ever loved or any father has found;
A love that leaves me breathless and speechless;
In every way, I love you more than I can say.

CORDELIA.
[Aside.] What should Cordelia say? Love, and stay quiet.

LEAR.
Of all these lands, from this point to that,
With dark forests and fertile fields,
With plenty of rivers and broad meadows,
We make you the lady: to you and Albany’s children
Let this be forever.—What does our second daughter,
Our beloved Regan, wife of Cornwall, say? Speak.

REGAN.
Sir, I am just as strong as my sister,
And value myself at her worth. In my true heart,
I see that she recognizes my genuine love;
The only thing is, she falls a bit short, because I say
I am an enemy to all other pleasures
That the finest things in life can offer,
And I realize I am only truly happy
In your dear highness’ love.

CORDELIA.
[Aside.] Then poor Cordelia,
But not really; because I know my love’s
Heavier than my words.

LEAR.
To you and your descendants, may this large third of our beautiful kingdom always belong;
No less in size, value, and enjoyment
Than what is given to Goneril.—Now, our joy,
Although the least and the last; to whose youthful love
The vineyards of France and the milk of Burgundy
Aspire to be connected; what can you say to create
A third that is more generous than your sisters'? Speak.

Nothing, my lord.

LEAR.
Anything?

Nothing.

LEAR.
You won't get anything from nothing: say it again.

CORDELIA.
I'm unhappy, and I can't express
My feelings openly: I love you, your majesty, As I’m obligated to; nothing more, nothing less.

LEAR.
How, how, Cordelia? Fix your words a bit,
So you don’t ruin your chances.

CORDELIA.
My lord,
You have given me life, raised me, loved me: I
Return those duties back as is right,
Obey you, love you, and honor you the most.
Why do my sisters have husbands if they claim
They love you all? Perhaps, when I marry,
That man who takes my hand will share
Half my love with him, half my care and duty:
I’m sure I will never marry like my sisters,
To love my father completely.

LEAR.
But does your heart agree with this?

Sure thing, my lord.

LEAR.
So young and so unkind?

CORDELIA.
So young, my lord, and genuine.

LEAR.
Let it be, then your truth will be your gift:
For, by the holy light of the sun,
The secrets of Hecate and the night;
By all the forces of the stars,
From which we come into existence and fade away;
Here I renounce all my fatherly duties,
Kinship and the blood ties,
And as a stranger to my heart and me
I banish you from this forever. The savage Scythian,
Or anyone who treats his offspring like leftovers
To satisfy his cravings, will be as much a friend,
Someone to care for and help,
As you, my once beloved daughter.

KENT.
My lord,—

LEAR.
Enough, Kent!
Don’t get in the way of the dragon and his anger.
I loved her the most and planned to rely on her caring nature.
[To Cordelia.] Get out of my sight!
May my grave be my peace, as I take
Her father’s heart away from her! Call France. Who’s moving?
Call Burgundy! Cornwall and Albany,
With my two daughters’ dowries, handle this third:
Let pride, which she calls honesty, marry her.
I give you both my power,
Authority, and all the great things
That come with being royal. I, myself, will visit monthly,
With the expectation of a hundred knights,
To be supported by you during my time here.
We will only keep
The title and all that comes with being a king; the control,
Income, and executing the rest,
Beloved sons, will be yours; to confirm this,
Share this crown between you.

[Crowning someone.]

KENT.
King Lear,
Whom I've always respected as my king,
Loved as my father, followed as my master,
And remembered in my prayers as my great patron.—

LEAR.
The bow is pulled back; use the arrow.

KENT.
Let it happen instead, even if the fork intrudes
Into my heart: let Kent be rude
When Lear is losing his mind. What are you going to do, old man?
Do you really think that duty will hesitate to speak
When those in power bow to flattery? To be straightforward is honorable
When greatness sinks into foolishness. Change your mindset;
And with your best judgment, control
This terrible impulsiveness: stake my life on your decision,
Your youngest daughter doesn’t love you any less;
And those who seem empty inside, whose soft voices
Echo without depth.

LEAR.
Kent, for your own sake, stop it.

KENT.
I never saw my life as anything more than a tool
To use against your enemies; I’m not afraid to lose it,
Since your safety is what really matters.

LEAR.
Get out of my sight!

KENT.
Look clearer, Lear; and let me continue to be
The true spot in your vision.

LEAR.
Now, by Apollo,—

KENT.
Now by Apollo, King,
You swear your gods in vain.

LEAR.
O vassal! Villain!

[i]Laying his hand on his sword.[/i]

ALBANY and CORNWALL.
Dear sir, stop!

KENT.
Kill your doctor, and give the payment
To the awful disease. Take back your gift,
Or, while I can shout from my throat,
I’ll tell you that you’re doing wrong.

LEAR.
Listen to me, coward! On your loyalty, hear me!
Since you’ve tried to make us break our vows,
Which we’ve never dared to do, and with forced arrogance
To come between our words and our power,
Which neither our nature nor our status can accept,
Having established our strength, take your punishment.
We give you five days to prepare,
To protect you from the disasters of the world;
And by the sixth day, turn your hated back
On our kingdom: if, on the following day,
Your banished self is found in our territory,
It will mean your death. Now go! By Jupiter,
This will not be undone.

KENT.
Farewell, King: since you choose to show yourself like this,
Freedom is gone, and exile is here.
[To Cordelia.] May the gods take you to their safe haven, dear maid,
You who think rightly and have spoken the truth!
[To Goneril and Regan.] And may your grand speeches be matched by your actions,
So that good results may come from words of love.
Thus Kent, O princes, says goodbye to you all;
He will follow his old path in a new country.

[Leave.]

Flourish. Re-enter Gloucester, with France, Burgundy and Attendants.

CORDELIA.
Here’s France and Burgundy, my esteemed lord.

LEAR.
My Lord of Burgundy,
We first turn to you, who along with this king
Has competed for our daughter: what will you require
as a present dowry for her,
or will you give up your pursuit of love?

BURGUNDY.
Most royal majesty,
I ask for nothing more than what your highness has offered,
Nor will you give less.

LEAR.
Noble Burgundy,
When she was precious to us, we valued her so;
But now her worth has dropped. Sir, there she is:
If there’s anything in that seemingly small presence,
Or all of it, that, because of our displeasure,
Is still good enough for you,
She’s here, and she’s yours.

BURGUNDY.
I have no answer.

LEAR.
Will you, with her weaknesses that she has,
Unfriended, now accepted into our hatred,
Cursed by us, and bound by our promise,
Take her or leave her?

BURGUNDY.
Excuse me, your royal highness;
An election doesn't take place under these circumstances.

LEAR.
Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me,
I tell you all her wealth. [To France] For you, great king,
I wouldn't stray from your love like this
To match you with someone I despise; therefore, I beg you
To redirect your affection to someone more deserving
Than to a worthless person whom nature is almost ashamed
To acknowledge as her own.

FRANCE.
This is really strange,
That she, who just moments ago was your greatest treasure,
The reason for your admiration, the comfort of your life,
The best and the dearest, should in such a short time
Do something so outrageous, to tear apart
So many layers of favor. Surely her wrongdoing
Must be so unnatural
That it makes her a monster, or your previously stated love
Is tainted; to believe that of her
Would require a kind of faith that reason alone, without a miracle,
Should never establish in me.

CORDELIA.
I still beg you, your majesty,
If I lack that smooth and slick way
To talk and not mean what I say; since I fully intend,
I’ll do it before I say it,—that you make it clear
It’s not a wicked stain, murder, or wrongdoing,
No inappropriate act or dishonorable step,
That has made me lose your grace and favor;
But simply for lacking that for which I am richer,
A quietly pleading eye, and such a tongue
As I’m glad I don’t have, though not having it
Has cost me your approval.

LEAR.
It would have been better if you had never been born than not to have made me happier.

FRANCE.
Is this all there is?—a delay in nature
That often leaves history untold?
What do you think, Lord of Burgundy?
What do you say about the lady? Love isn’t truly love
When it’s mixed with feelings that are
Detached from the main issue. Will you take her?
She is a prize in herself.

BURGUNDY.
Royal King,
Just give me the part you promised,
And here I take Cordelia by the hand,
Duchess of Burgundy.

LEAR.
Nothing: I’ve made my vow; I’m resolute.

BURGUNDY.
I’m sorry, then, you’ve already lost a father
So now you have to lose a husband.

CORDELIA.
Peace be with Burgundy!
Since that respect for fortune is his love,
I will not be his wife.

FRANCE.
Most beautiful Cordelia, you’re so rich, yet poor;
So cherished but abandoned; and so loved, yet despised!
I claim you and your virtues here:
If it’s allowed, I’ll take what’s been discarded.
Gods, gods! It’s strange that from their complete neglect
My love should grow to such passionate respect.
The king’s daughter, without a dowry, thrown into my hands,
Is queen of us, ours, and our fair France:
Not even all the dukes of watery Burgundy
Could ever buy this priceless girl from me.
Say goodbye to them, Cordelia, even though it’s cruel:
You may lose here, but you’ll find something better elsewhere.

LEAR.
You have her, France: let her be yours; we
Don’t have such a daughter, nor will we ever see
Her face again. So be gone
Without our approval, our love, our blessing.
Come, noble Burgundy.

[Flourish. Exit Lear, Burgundy, Cornwall, Albany, Gloucester and Attendants.]

FRANCE.
Say goodbye to your sisters.

CORDELIA.
I leave you with our father's jewels, my eyes washed with tears.
Cordelia knows what you are;
And like a sister, I'm reluctant to point out
Your faults as they truly are. Love our father well:
I trust him to your claimed hearts:
But still, if I were in his favor,
I would choose a better place for him.
So goodbye to you both.

REGAN.
Don’t tell us our duties.

GONERIL.
Focus on making your lord happy, who has taken you in
Out of the kindness of fate. You’ve fallen short in obedience,
And you truly deserve the lack that you’ve experienced.

CORDELIA.
Time will reveal what hidden deceit conceals:
Those who cover up their flaws will ultimately face shame.
You may do well.

FRANCE.
Come, my lovely Cordelia.

[Exit France and Cordelia.]

GONERIL.
Sister, I have a lot to discuss about what affects us both. I believe our father will leave tonight.

REGAN.
That’s definitely true, and with you; next month with us.

GONERIL.
You can see how full of changes his age is; we’ve noticed it quite a bit: he has always loved our sister the most, and how poorly he has now rejected her is glaringly obvious.

REGAN.
It's just his old age: yet he's always had a limited understanding of himself.

GONERIL.
The best and most reasonable of his time has only been impulsive; so we should expect from his age not just the flaws of a long-established character, but also the unpredictable stubbornness that comes with weak and irritable years.

REGAN.
We can expect unpredictable actions from him, like Kent’s banishment.

GONERIL.
There’s more flattery in saying goodbye between France and him. Please, let’s agree on this: if our father holds power with the attitude he has, this final submission of his will only upset us.

REGAN.
We'll think about it some more.

GONERIL.
We need to act quickly, while the emotions are still high.

[Exit.]

Enter Edmund with a note.

EDMUND.
You, Nature, are my goddess; I’m bound to your law.
So why should I
Put up with the plague of tradition and let
The curiosity of nations hold me back?
Just because I’m about twelve or fourteen moons
Behind my brother? Why a bastard? Why base?
When my body is just as well-formed,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true
As any honest woman’s offspring? Why do they label us
As base? As inferior? As bastards? Base, base?
Who, in the lively act of nature, have
More substance and fierce quality
Than those who lie in a dull, stale, tired bed
Creating a whole bunch of fools
Born between sleep and wake? Well then,
Legitimate Edgar, I want your land:
Our father’s love is for the bastard Edmund
Just as much as for the legitimate: what a fine word: legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter works,
And my plans succeed, Edmund the bastard
Will surpass the legitimate. I’m growing, I’m thriving.
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

Enter Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER.
Kent's been banished like this! And France left angry!
And the King is gone tonight! His power restricted!
Confined to show! All this happened
Just like that!—Edmund, what’s going on?

EDMUND.
So, please your lordship, none.

[Posting the letter.]

GLOUCESTER.
Why are you so determined to hide that letter?

EDMUND.
I have no news, my lord.

GLOUCESTER.
What article were you reading?

Nothing, my lord.

GLOUCESTER.
No? Then why did you quickly shove it into your pocket? Nothing doesn’t have to hide itself like that. Let’s see. Come on, if it’s really nothing, I won’t need my glasses.

EDMUND.
I ask you to forgive me, sir. It's a letter from my brother that I haven't read completely; and from what I have read, I don't think it's suitable for you to see.

GLOUCESTER.
Hand me the letter, sir.

EDMUND.
I’ll upset someone, whether I hold it back or share it. The details, as far as I understand them, are at fault.

GLOUCESTER.
Let's check it out!

EDMUND.
I hope, for my brother’s sake, he wrote this as just an essay or a way to showcase my character.

GLOUCESTER.
[Reads.] "This way of thinking and respect for age makes the world harsh for the best of our times; it keeps our fortunes away from us until we’re too old to appreciate them. I'm starting to feel a pointless and foolish bondage in the oppression of old tyranny; it doesn’t rule with power but only as it’s allowed. Come to me, so I can talk about this more. If our father would sleep until I wake him, you would receive half his fortune forever and be the favorite of your brother EDGAR.”
Hmm! A conspiracy? “Sleep until I wake him, and you'd get half his fortune.” —My son Edgar! Could he have written this? Does he have a heart and mind to conceive it? When did this happen? Who brought it to you?

EDMUND.
It wasn't brought to me, my lord, that's the clever part. I found it tossed in at the window of my room.

GLOUCESTER.
You recognize this character as your brother’s?

EDMUND.
If the situation were good, my lord, I would certainly swear it was his; but considering that, I would rather believe it wasn't.

GLOUCESTER.
It’s his.

EDMUND.
It's his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart isn't in what it says.

GLOUCESTER.
Has he never brought this up with you before?

EDMUND.
Never, my lord. But I've often heard him say that when sons are grown and fathers are older, the father should act like a guardian to the son, while the son manages his finances.

GLOUCESTER.
Oh, what a villain! Just his thoughts in that letter! Horrible villain! Unnatural, despicable, brutish villain! Even worse than brutish! Go, you there, find him; I’ll catch him. Abominable villain, where is he?

EDMUND.
I’m not sure, my lord. If you could hold off your anger toward my brother until you have clearer proof of his intentions, it would be wise. If you jump to conclusions and go after him aggressively, thinking he means harm when he doesn’t, it could really damage your reputation and undermine his loyalty. I’d stake my life on the fact that he wrote this to gauge my loyalty to you, and not for any other reason.

GLOUCESTER.
You really think so?

EDMUND.
If you think it's appropriate, I'll put you in a position where you can listen to us discuss this, and you'll be assured in a way that satisfies you, without any more delay than this evening.

GLOUCESTER.
He can't be that much of a monster.

EDMUND.
It definitely is not.

GLOUCESTER.
To his father, who loves him so tenderly and completely. Good heavens! Edmund, go find him; connect me with him, please: handle the situation however you see fit. I would give up my status to reach a proper decision.

EDMUND.
I’ll look for him, sir, right away; I’ll handle the business as I find the opportunity and let you know.

GLOUCESTER.
These recent eclipses of the sun and moon don’t bode well for us: even though nature can explain it this way or that, it still suffers from the consequences. Love fades, friendships dissolve, brothers turn against each other: in cities, there’s chaos; in countries, division; in palaces, betrayal; and the connection between father and son breaks down. This villain of mine fits the description; there’s son against father: the King strays from his nature; there’s father against child. We’ve seen the best of our times. Schemes, deceit, betrayal, and all kinds of destructive troubles follow us uneasily to our graves. Find this villain, Edmund; it won’t cost you anything; do it carefully.—And the noble and true-hearted Kent has been banished! His crime? Honesty! It’s strange.

[Leave.]

EDMUND.
This is the ridiculous nonsense of the world: when we're struggling, often because of our own bad choices, we blame our misfortunes on the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we're forced to be villains, made fools by some heavenly pressure; crooks, thieves, and traitors because of some cosmic influence; drunks, liars, and cheaters because of some planetary force; and all our wrongdoings are someone else's fault. It's a clever way for dishonest people to shift the blame to the stars. My father made a deal with my mother during a chaotic time, and I was born under the Great Bear, so it seems I'm rough and lustful. Nonsense! I would still be who I am, even if the most virtuous star in the sky had been watching over my birth.

Enter Edgar.

Pat! He’s coming, like a disaster from an old comedy: my role is all about villainous sadness, with a sigh like Tom o’Bedlam.—Oh, these eclipses really signal these separations! Fa, sol, la, mi.

EDGAR.
Hey there, brother Edmund, what are you thinking about so seriously?

EDMUND.
I’m thinking, brother, about a prediction I read the other day, about what is supposed to happen after these eclipses.

EDGAR.
Are you worried about that?

EDMUND.
I promise you, the things he writes about end badly: like the unnatural rift between a child and a parent; death, scarcity, the end of long-standing friendships; divisions in the state, threats and curses against the King and nobles; unnecessary distrust, the exile of friends, the scattering of alliances, marital issues, and who knows what else.

EDGAR.
How long have you been an astronomy enthusiast?

EDMUND.
Come on! When did you last see my dad?

EDGAR.
Last night.

EDMUND.
Did you talk to him?

EDGAR.
Yeah, two hours together.

EDMUND.
Did you part on good terms? Did you find any displeasure in him, either in his words or in his demeanor?

EDGAR.
Not at all.

EDMUND.
Think about how you might have upset him; and for my sake, avoid being around him until he has cooled off a bit. Right now, he is so angry that your presence would hardly help calm him down.

EDGAR.
Someone has wronged me.

EDMUND.
That’s what I’m worried about. I hope you can hold on until his anger calms down; and, like I said, come back with me to my place, from where I’ll take you to hear my lord speak: please, go; here’s my key. If you go out, make sure you’re armed.

EDGAR.
Armed, bro?

EDMUND.
Brother, I'm giving you my best advice; I’m not being honest if I don’t have good intentions for you. I've shared what I've seen and heard, but it's only a shadow of the true terror of it. Please, just go!

EDGAR.
Will I hear from you soon?

EDMUND.
I'm here to help you with this.

[Exit Edgar.]

A gullible father! And a noble brother,
Whose nature is so far from causing harm
That he doesn’t suspect anyone; on whose naive honesty
My schemes go smoothly! I understand how this works.
Let me, if not by ancestry, gain land through my cleverness;
Everything aligns with me that I can shape to fit.

[Leave.]

Enter Goneril and Oswald.

GONERIL.
Did my dad hit my guy for blaming his fool?

OSWALD.
Yes, ma'am.

GONERIL.
Day and night, he wrongs me; every hour
He commits one ridiculous crime or another,
That puts us all at odds; I can’t take it:
His knights are out of control, and he criticizes us
Over every little thing. When he gets back from hunting,
I won’t talk to him; just say I’m sick.
If you don’t fulfill your previous duties,
You’ll be fine; I’ll take the blame for it.

Horns inside.

OSWALD.
He's on his way, ma'am; I can hear him.

GONERIL.
Do whatever careless thing you want,
You and your friends; I want it to be questioned:
If he doesn't like it, let him go to our sister,
Whose thoughts and mine are all in sync,
Not to be overridden. What a silly old man,
Who still wants to control those powers
That he’s already given up! Honestly,
Old fools are like babies again; and must be treated
With criticism as compliments, when they’re being misused.
Remember what I said.

OSWALD.
Sure thing, ma'am.

GONERIL.
And let his knights have colder stares around you;
What comes of it doesn't matter; just let your friends know;
I want to create some situations, and I will,
So I can speak. I’ll write right to my sister
To stay on my path. Get ready for dinner.

[They exit.]

Enter Kent, in disguise.

KENT.
If I can take on other accents,
That might ease my speech, my good intentions
Could lead to the outcome
For which I shaped my identity. Now, banished Kent,
If you can serve while you’re stuck here,
Then may it be that your master, whom you love,
Will find you full of effort.

Horns sound inside. Enter King Lear Knights, and Attendants.

LEAR.
Don’t let me wait at all for dinner; go get it ready.

[Exit a Staff Member.]

What's up! Who are you?

KENT.
A guy, sir.

LEAR.
What do you want? What do you want from us?

KENT.
I can honestly say I'm exactly what I appear to be; I will sincerely serve whoever trusts me; I will love those who are honest; I will engage with those who are wise and speak only a little; I will fear judgment; I will fight when I have no other option; and I won't eat fish.

LEAR.
What are you?

KENT.
A truly honest guy, and as broke as the King.

LEAR.
If you're as poor in character as he is in power, you're poor enough. What do you want?

KENT.
Service.

LEAR.
Who would you serve?

KENT.
You.

LEAR.
Do you know me, friend?

KENT.
No, sir; but you have something in your expression that I would like to call master.

LEAR.
What’s that?

KENT.
Authority.

LEAR.
What services can you provide?

KENT.
I can give good advice, ride, run, mess up a story when telling it, and deliver a straightforward message directly. I'm capable of what regular people are suited for, and my greatest quality is hard work.

LEAR.
How old are you?

KENT.
I’m not so young that I’d fall for a woman just because she can sing, nor so old that I’d obsess over her for any reason at all: I’m forty-eight years old.

LEAR.
Follow me; you’ll serve me. If I like you just as much after dinner, I won’t let you go yet. Dinner, hey, dinner! Where’s my servant? My fool? Go and bring my fool here.

[Leave the Attendant.]

Enter Oswald.

You, hey you, where's my daughter?

OSWALD.
So please you,—

[Leave.]

LEAR.
What does that guy say? Call the idiot back.

[Exit a Knight.]

Where's my fool? Hey, I think the world is asleep.

Re-enter Knight.

Hey, where’s that mutt?

KNIGHT.
He says, my lord, your daughter isn't doing well.

LEAR.
Why didn’t the servant come back to me when I called him?

KNIGHT.
He told me very clearly that he wouldn't.

LEAR.
He wouldn't?

KNIGHT.
My lord, I’m not sure what’s going on, but it seems to me that you’re not receiving the same warm treatment you used to. There's a noticeable drop in kindness from both the Duke and your daughter, as well as among those who follow you.

LEAR.
Ha! you say that?

KNIGHT.
I ask for your forgiveness, my lord, if I'm wrong; for I cannot stay silent when I believe your highness is being wronged.

LEAR.
You’re just reminding me of my own thoughts: I’ve noticed a slight lack of attention lately, which I’ve more blamed on my own jealous curiosity than on any real intent to be unkind. I’ll investigate it further. But where’s my fool? I haven’t seen him in the last two days.

KNIGHT.
Since my lady went to France, sir, the fool has really withered away.

LEAR.
Enough of that; I’ve got it. Go tell my daughter I want to speak with her.

Exit Attendant.

Go, get my fool here.

[Another attendant exits.]

Re-enter Oswald.

O, you, sir, come here, sir: who am I, sir?

OSWALD.
My lady's dad.

LEAR.
My lady’s father! my lord’s servant: you worthless scoundrel! you slave! you coward!

OSWALD.
I am none of those, my lord; I ask for your forgiveness.

LEAR.
Are you throwing looks at me, you scoundrel?

Hitting him.

OSWALD.
I won't be hit, my lord.

KENT.
Nor did you stumble, you lowly football player.

Tripping over his feet.

LEAR.
Thank you, my friend. You serve me, and I’ll love you for it.

KENT.
Come on, sir, get up, let’s go! I’ll show you the difference: let’s go, let’s go! If you want to see how long you are again, wait; but let’s go! Do you have any sense? Good.

[Pushes Oswald out.]

LEAR.
Now, my good friend, thank you: this shows you're serious about your service.

Giving Kent cash.

Enter Fool.

FOOL.
Let me hire him too; here’s my silly hat.

[Giving Kent his hat.]

LEAR.
What's up, my cute little rascal, how are you doing?

FOOL.
Hey, you should probably wear my fool's cap.

KENT.
Why, idiot?

FOOL.
Well, it's because I'm standing up for someone who's not in favor. If you can't smile when things are going well, you'll end up getting burned soon enough: here, take my fool's cap. This guy has sent away two of his daughters and forced the third one into a blessing against her will; if you follow him, you'll definitely have to wear my fool's cap. Hey there, uncle! I wish I had two fool's caps and two daughters!

LEAR.
Why, my dude?

FOOL.
If I gave them all my money, I’d still keep my fools to myself. Here’s mine; ask another of your daughters.

Pay attention, sir, the whip.

FOOL.
Truth is like a dog that must be kept in the kennel; it has to be driven away when the Lady Brach can stand by the fire and stink.

LEAR.
A harmful annoyance to me!

FOOL.
Hey, I'll teach you a speech.

LEAR.
Do.

FOOL.
Listen up, Dad:
    Have more than you show,
    Say less than you know,
    Lend less than you owe,
    Travel more than you walk,
    Learn more than you think,
    Settle for less than you throw away;
    Leave your drink and your fling,
    And stay indoors,
    And you’ll have more
    Than twenty total.

KENT.
This is nothing, idiot.

FOOL.
Then it's like the breath of a pro bono lawyer; you didn't give me anything for it. Can you do anything with nothing, uncle?

LEAR.
Why, no, kid; you can't create something from nothing.

FOOL.
[to Kent.] Please tell him, this is how much the rent of his land is: he won’t believe a fool.

LEAR.
A bitter idiot.

FOOL.
Do you know the difference, my boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet one?

LEAR.
No, kid; teach me.

FOOL.
That lord who advised you
to give away your land,
Bring him here to me,
You should stand for him.
The sweet and bitter fool
will show up soon;
The one in colorful clothes here,
the other found over there.

LEAR.
Are you calling me a fool, kid?

FOOL.
All your other titles you've given away; the ones you were born with.

KENT.
This isn’t totally foolish, my lord.

FOOL.
No way, seriously; lords and important people won’t allow it; if I had a monopoly, they’d all want a share, and the ladies too, they won’t let me keep all the fun to myself; they’ll be grabbing. Uncle, give me an egg, and I’ll give you two crowns.

LEAR.
What two crowns will they be?

FOOL.
You know, after I cut the egg in half and eat the inside, I’m left with the two halves of the shell. When you split your crown in half and gave both pieces away, you really carried your burden through the mud: you had little sense in your bald head when you gave away your golden one. If I’m being myself in this, let whoever finds it to be true be punished.
[Singing.]
   Fools have never had less grace in a year;
     For wise men have become silly,
   And don’t know how to handle their intellect,
     Their manners are so foolish.

LEAR.
When did you used to be so full of songs, man?

FOOL.
I've been using it, uncle, ever since you made your daughters your mothers; because when you gave them the rod and pulled down your own pants,
[Singing.]
   Then they cried for sudden joy,
     And I sang for sorrow,
   That such a king should play hide and seek,
     And act like a fool.
Please, uncle, hire a teacher who can teach your fool to lie; I really want to learn how to lie.

LEAR.
If you lie, we’ll have you whipped.

FOOL.
I wonder what kind of people you and your daughters are: they'll have me punished for telling the truth; you'll have me punished for lying; and sometimes I get punished just for staying silent. I’d rather be anything than a fool: but I wouldn't want to be you, uncle: you’ve trimmed your wit so much that there’s nothing left in the middle: here comes one of the scraps.

Enter Goneril.

LEAR.
What’s going on, daughter? Why the scowl? I think you’ve been frowning a bit too much lately.

FOOL.
You were a charming guy when you didn’t have to worry about her scowling. Now you’re just a zero: I'm better than you are right now. I’m a fool, and you’re nothing. [To Goneril.] Yes, really, I’ll keep quiet. Your expression tells me to, even though you’re not saying anything. Shh, shh,
     He who doesn’t have any bread or crumbs,
     Tired of everything, will end up wanting something.
[Pointing to Lear.] That’s a hollow peapod.

GONERIL.
Not only, sir, is this your totally unfiltered fool,
But others in your arrogant group
Are constantly complaining and arguing; breaking out
In outrageous and unbearable chaos. Sir,
I had hoped that by bringing this to your attention,
I would find a safe solution; but now I’m worried,
From what you've said and done too late,
That you support this behavior and let it continue,
Which if you do, the blame
Won't go unpunished, nor will the solutions be ignored,
Which, in the interest of a healthy community,
Could end up causing you the kind of trouble
That would otherwise be shameful, and then necessity
Will demand careful action.

FOOL.
For you know, uncle,
   The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo for so long
   That it got its head bitten off by its young.
So out went the candle, and we were left in the dark.

LEAR.
Are you our kid?

GONERIL.
Come on, sir,
I wish you would use that good judgment
I know you have; and set aside
These behaviors that lately have changed you
From who you really are.

FOOL.
Can't a fool tell when the cart is being pulled by the horse? Hey, Jug! I love you!

LEAR.
Does anyone here know me? This is not Lear;
Does Lear walk like this? Speak like this? Where are his eyes?
Either his mind is fading, his perception
Is dulled. Ha! Am I awake? It can't be!
Who can tell me who I am?

FOOL.
Lear's ghost.

LEAR.
I would understand that; because by the signs of authority, knowledge, and reason, I would be wrongly convinced that I had daughters.

FOOL.
Which will make them a compliant father.

LEAR.
What's your name, lovely lady?

GONERIL.
This admiration, sir, is just like your other new antics. I really urge you to understand my intentions clearly: as you are old and respected, you should be wise. Here you keep a hundred knights and squires; men who are so disordered, debauched, and bold that our court, tainted by their behavior, feels more like a chaotic inn. Hedonism and lust make it resemble a tavern or a brothel instead of a dignified palace. The shame itself calls for immediate action. So, I ask you, on behalf of someone who will otherwise take what she wants, to reduce your entourage a bit; and for the remaining ones, let them be men who are appropriate for your age, who know themselves and you.

LEAR.
Darkness and devils!
Saddle my horses; gather my crew.
You worthless bastard! I won’t bother you:
But I still have a daughter.

GONERIL.
You hit my people; and your chaotic mob
makes servants of those better than them.

Enter Albany.

LEAR.
Oh, how regret comes too late!—
[To Albany.] Oh, sir, are you here?
Is this what you want? Speak, sir.—Get my horses ready.
Ingratitude, you heartless monster,
You’re even more monstrous when you show up in a child
Than a sea creature!

ALBANY.
Please, sir, be patient.

LEAR.
[to Goneril.] Despicable creature, you’re lying.
My followers are exceptional men,
Who know all their duties well;
And they firmly uphold
The honor of their name. Oh, such a minor mistake,
How badly you behaved in front of Cordelia!
It completely tore my heart apart;
It took all my love away,
And filled it with bitterness. Oh Lear, Lear, Lear!
[Gripping his head.] Slam at this door that let your foolishness in
And your good judgment out! Go, go, my people.

ALBANY.
My lord, I’m innocent because I don’t know
What has caused you to act this way.

LEAR.
It might be true, my lord.
Listen, nature, listen; dear goddess, listen!
Put your plans on hold, if you intended
To make this woman fertile!
Send sterility into her womb!
Dry up her reproductive organs;
And from her unworthy body may no child
Ever be born to honor her! If she must bear,
Create her child from malice, so it can live
And be a twisted, unnatural torment to her!
Let it leave wrinkles on her youthful brow;
With falling tears carve channels in her cheeks;
Turn all her pains and sacrifices
Into laughter and scorn; so she can feel
How much sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is
To have an ungrateful child! Away, away!

[Log out.]

ALBANY.
Now, gods that we worship, where is this coming from?

GONERIL.
Don't stress yourself trying to understand it more;
Just let his nature take its course
That old age allows him.

Re-enter Lear.

LEAR.
What, fifty of my followers all at once?
In just two weeks?

ALBANY.
What's wrong, sir?

LEAR.
I’ll tell you. [To Goneril.] Life and death! I’m ashamed
That you have the power to shake my masculinity like this;
That these hot tears, which spill from me against my will,
Should mean anything to you. Curse you with all my being!
The painful wounds of a father’s curse
Pierce every sense around you! Old, loving eyes,
If you cry over this again, I’ll tear you out,
And throw you into the waters that you shed
To mold clay. Ha! So be it.
I have another daughter,
Who I know is kind and comforting:
When she hears about this from you, with her nails
She’ll tear your wolfish face apart. You’ll see
That I’ll take back the form you think
I’ve given up forever.

[Exit Lear, Kent and Attendants.]

GONERIL.
Did you notice that?

ALBANY.
I can't be that biased, Goneril,
To the deep love I have for you,—

GONERIL.
Please, calm down. What, Oswald, hey!
[To the Fool.] You, sir, more of a jerk than a fool, following your master.

FOOL.
Hey, Uncle Lear, Uncle Lear, wait up and take the fool with you.
A fox once caught,
And such a daughter,
Should definitely be taken out,
If my cap could get a noose;
So the fool follows along.

[Log out.]

GONERIL.
This man has received solid advice.—A hundred knights!
It’s smart and safe to let him keep
A full hundred knights: yes, so with every dream,
Every whisper, every whim, every complaint, every annoyance,
He can protect himself with their strength,
And keep our lives in his hands. Oswald, I say!

ALBANY.
Well, you might be worrying too much.

GONERIL.
Better to be cautious than to trust too much:
Let me take away the dangers I worry about,
Not fear being taken advantage of: I know his heart.
What he has said, I’ve written to my sister:
If she supports him and his hundred knights,
When I’ve shown how unfit he is,—

Re-enter Oswald.

How's it going, Oswald!
So, did you write that letter to my sister?

OSWALD.
Yes, ma'am.

GONERIL.
Take some people with you and get on your horse:
Tell her everything I'm really worried about;
And also include your own reasons
To make it more convincing. Hurry up and go;
And make sure to come back quickly.

[Exit Oswald.]

No, no, my lord!
This soft gentleness and attitude of yours,
While I don't criticize it, I must say,
You are much more at fault for lacking wisdom
Than you are praised for being overly gentle.

ALBANY.
I can’t say how far your eyes can see:
In trying to improve, we often ruin what's good.

GONERIL.
No then,—

ALBANY.
Well, well; the event.

[Exit.]

Enter Lear, Kent and Fool.

LEAR.
You go ahead to Gloucester with these letters: inform my daughter only as much as she asks about from the letter. If you're not fast, I'll get there before you.

KENT.
I won't rest, my lord, until I’ve delivered your letter.

[Log out.]

FOOL.
If a man's brains were in his heels, wouldn't they be at risk of getting bunions?

LEAR.
Yeah, kid.

FOOL.
So please, be happy; your wit won’t go to waste.

LEAR.
Haha!

FOOL.
You'll see your other daughter will treat you well, because even though she’s as different from this one as a crab is from an apple, I know what I know.

LEAR.
What can you tell me, boy?

FOOL.
She’ll taste just like a crab does to another crab. Can you explain why one’s nose is in the middle of their face?

No.

FOOL.
Well, to keep an eye on both sides, if a man can't figure something out by smell, he can still look into it.

I messed up with her.

FOOL.
Can you tell how an oyster makes its shell?

LEAR.
Nope.

FOOL.
Me neither; but I can explain why a snail has a shell.

LEAR.
Why?

FOOL.
Why, to put it in his head; not to give it away to his daughters and leave his horns without a cover.

LEAR.
I'll put aside who I am. What a caring father! Are my horses ready?

FOOL.
Your fools are all around them. The reason why the seven stars are just seven is a pretty good reason.

LEAR.
Because they're not eight?

FOOL.
Yes, you would make a great fool.

LEAR.
To take it again by force!—Monster ingratitude!

FOOL.
If you were my fool, uncle, I’d have you beaten for being old before your time.

LEAR.
How's that?

FOOL.
You shouldn't have gotten old until you were wise.

LEAR.
Oh, please don’t let me go crazy, sweet heaven!
Keep me calm; I don’t want to lose my mind!

Enter Gentleman.

How's it going? Are the horses ready?

SIR.
Ready, my lord.

LEAR.
Come here, kid.

FOOL.
The girl who's a virgin now and laughs at my leaving
Won't be a virgin for long if things don't change quickly.

[Exit.]

Enter Edmund and Curan, as they meet.

EDMUND.
Save yourself, Curan.

CURAN.
And you, sir. I've been with your father and informed him that the Duke of Cornwall and his Duchess Regan will be here with him tonight.

EDMUND.
How does that happen?

CURAN.
No, I don’t know. You've heard the rumors going around; I mean the ones whispered quietly, as they are still just talk meant for close ears?

EDMUND.
Not me: please, what are they?

CURAN.
Have you heard of any possible wars between the two dukes of Cornwall and Albany?

EDMUND.
Silence.

CURAN.
You may be able to do that in time. Take care, sir.

[Log out.]

EDMUND.
Is the Duke here tonight? Great! Just what I need!
This is going to work out perfectly for my plans.
My father has set a guard to catch my brother;
And there's something I need to deal with, something tricky,
That I have to take care of. Let's be quick and lucky!
Brother, I need to talk to you, come down here, brother, I said!

Enter Edgar.

My father is watching: Oh sir, get out of here;
You'll get information about where you're hiding;
You now have the cover of night on your side.
Haven't you said anything bad about Duke Cornwall?
He’s on his way here now, at night, in a rush,
And Regan's with him: have you said nothing
That might go against Duke Albany?
Think about it.

EDGAR.
I’m sure of it, not a single word.

EDMUND.
I hear my father approaching—excuse me;
I have to cleverly pull my sword on you:
Draw it: pretend to defend yourself: now fight well.
Surrender: go before my father. Lights, over here!
Run, brother. Torches, torches!—So long.

[Exit Edgar.]

Some blood drawn from me would create a stronger opinion
Of my more intense effort: [Wounds his arm.]
I've seen drunk people
Do more than this for fun. Dad, Dad!
Stop, stop! No help?

Enter Gloucester and servants with flashlights.

GLOUCESTER.
Now, Edmund, where's the bad guy?

EDMUND.
Here he stood in the dark, his sharp sword drawn,
Mumbling wicked spells, calling on the moon
To be a favorable guide.

GLOUCESTER.
But where is he now?

EDMUND.
Look, sir, I'm bleeding.

GLOUCESTER.
Where's the villain, Edmund?

EDMUND.
He ran this way, sir. When there was no way he could,—

GLOUCESTER.
Chase him! Go after him.

[Servants exit.]

—By no means what?

EDMUND.
Convince me to kill your lord;
But I warned him that the vengeful gods
Direct all their wrath against murderers of their own kin;
I spoke about the deep and powerful bond
Between a child and a parent; in short,
Seeing how completely opposed I was
To his unnatural intention, he charged at me
With his ready sword, targeting my defenseless body,
But when he saw my spirits fully alert,
Fired up for the fight, ready to confront him,
Or maybe just scared by the commotion I caused,
He suddenly ran away.

GLOUCESTER.
Let him go far away;
He won’t stay hidden in this land;
And when he's found—he'll be dealt with. The noble Duke, my master,
My great supporter and protector, is coming tonight:
With his authority, I will announce it,
That whoever finds him will earn our gratitude,
Bringing the murderous coward to justice;
Anyone who hides him will face death.

EDMUND.
When I tried to talk him out of his plans,
And saw he was determined to go through with it, using harsh words
I threatened to expose him: he responded,
‘You worthless bastard! Do you really think,
If I were to stand against you, that any trust,
Virtue, or worth in you
Would make your words credible? No: whatever I should deny
I would deny this too; even if you showed
My true character, I’d twist it all
To fit your scheme, plot, and wicked intentions:
You’d have to be a fool to think
That no one would see the clear benefits of my death
As strong and convincing reasons
For you to pursue it.

GLOUCESTER.
Oh, what a strange and twisted villain!
Would he really deny his letter, he said? I never received it from him.

[Stuck inside.]

Listen, the Duke’s trumpets! I don’t know why he’s coming.
I’ll block all exits; the villain won’t escape;
The Duke has to agree with me on that: besides, I’ll
Send his picture everywhere, so everyone in the kingdom
Can recognize him; and for my loyal and true boy,
I’ll find a way to make you capable.

Enter Cornwall, Regan and Guests.

CORNWALL.
Hey there, my noble friend! Since I arrived here,
Which I can really only say just now, I've heard some strange news.

REGAN.
If it’s true, all revenge falls short
When it comes to punishing the offender. How are you, my lord?

GLOUCESTER.
Oh madam, my old heart is broken, it’s broken!

REGAN.
What, did my father's godson try to kill you?
The one my father named? Your Edgar?

GLOUCESTER.
Oh lady, lady, shame should keep it hidden!

REGAN.
Wasn't he one of the wild knights who hang out with my dad?

GLOUCESTER.
I don't know, ma'am; it's just too awful, too awful.

EDMUND.
Yes, ma'am, he was part of that group.

REGAN.
It's no wonder he's in a bad mood:
They've made him responsible for the old man's death,
Just to get their hands on his money.
This evening, my sister filled me in on everything;
And with such warnings
That if they decide to stay at my place,
I won't be around.

CORNWALL.
I assure you, Regan, neither did I.
Edmund, I've heard that you've done something childish for your father.

EDMUND.
It was my responsibility, sir.

GLOUCESTER.
He revealed his scheme; and received
This injury you see, trying to catch him.

CORNWALL.
Is he being followed?

GLOUCESTER.
Yes, my good lord.

CORNWALL.
If he gets caught, he’ll never be able to do harm again: follow your own goals,
However you like with my power. As for you, Edmund,
Whose goodness and loyalty shine through right now,
You will be one of us:
We’ll need people with such deep trust;
You are the first one we’ll take.

EDMUND.
I will serve you, sir, honestly, in every way I can.

GLOUCESTER.
Thank you for him, Your Grace.

CORNWALL.
Do you not know why we came to see you?

REGAN.
So, out of season, navigating the dark of night:
There are important matters, noble Gloucester, that we need
Your advice on.
Our father has written, and so has our sister,
About some disagreements, which I thought it best
To address from our home; the various messengers
Here are ready to go. Our good old friend,
Find some comfort for yourself; and share
Your necessary advice for our situation,
Which requires immediate attention.

GLOUCESTER.
I’m here for you, ma'am:
You’re very welcome.

[Leave the stage. Flourish.]

Enter Kent and Oswald, separately.

OSWALD.
Good morning to you, friend: are you from this house?

KENT.
Yeah.

OSWALD.
Where should we park our horses?

KENT.
I'm stuck in the mud.

OSWALD.
Please, if you love me, tell me.

KENT.
I don't love you.

OSWALD.
Then I don’t care about you.

KENT.
If I had you in the Lipsbury pinfold, I would make you care for me.

OSWALD.
Why are you treating me like this? I don’t know you.

KENT.
I know you.

OSWALD.
What do you know me for?

KENT.
A con artist; a scoundrel; a scavenger; a low-class, arrogant, shallow, broke, filthy, worse-than-useless creep; a cowardly, self-serving, lecherous, vain little crook; a worthless, inherited servant; someone who would be a pimp under the guise of good service, and is nothing but a mix of a scammer, beggar, coward, sycophant, and the offspring of a mutt: someone I will turn into a whimpering mess if you deny even the slightest part of what you've said.

OSWALD.
Why are you such a terrible person, criticizing someone you don’t even know and who doesn’t know you?

KENT.
What a bold-faced jerk you are to deny that you know me! It's only been two days since I tripped you up and beat you in front of the King. Draw your weapon, you scoundrel: even though it's nighttime, the moon is shining; I'll make a mess of you in this moonlight: draw, you worthless, cowardly barber!

[Unsheathing his sword.]

OSWALD.
Get lost! I want nothing to do with you.

KENT.
Draw, you scoundrel: you come with letters against the King and take the side of vanity against the authority of her father: draw, you sneak, or I’ll cut you up—draw, you rascal; come on!

OSWALD.
Help! Murder! Help!

KENT.
Hit me, you loser; stop, you scoundrel, stop; you clever servant, hit me!

Hitting him.

OSWALD.
Help! Murder!

Enter Edmund, Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, and Servants.

EDMUND.
Hey! What's going on? Let's talk!

KENT.
With you, good man, if you don’t mind: come on, I’ll toughen you up; let’s go, young master.

GLOUCESTER.
Weapons! Arms! What’s going on here?

CORNWALL.
Stay calm, I swear, anyone who strikes again will die. What’s going on?

REGAN.
The messengers from our sister and the King.

CORNWALL.
What's your difference? Speak up.

OSWALD.
I can hardly catch my breath, my lord.

KENT.
No wonder you’ve worked up your courage. You cowardly scoundrel, nature has abandoned you; a tailor created you.

CORNWALL.
You're a strange guy: can a tailor really create a man?

KENT.
Yeah, a tailor, sir: a stonecutter or a painter couldn't have messed him up so badly, even if they'd only been in the business for two years.

CORNWALL.
Tell me, how did your argument start?

OSWALD.
This old troublemaker, sir, whose life I’ve spared because of his gray beard,—

KENT.
You worthless scoundrel! You pointless letter! My lord, if you’ll allow me, I’ll turn this unhinged villain into dust and use him to plaster the walls of a restroom. Spare my gray beard, you coward?

CORNWALL.
Quiet down, you!
You filthy lowlife, don't you have any respect?

KENT.
Yes, sir; but anger has its own right.

CORNWALL.
Why are you angry?

KENT.
It's ridiculous that someone like this gets to wear a sword,
When they have no integrity. These deceitful smiley types,
Like rats, often gnaw at the sacred ties
That are too tangled to break; they smooth over every emotion
That rebel in their lords’ nature;
They add fuel to the fire, ice to their colder moods;
They change sides, make promises, and shift their loyalties
With every breeze and change in their masters,
Knowing nothing, like dogs, but just following.
Curse your twitching face!
You think my words are foolish, don’t you?
You idiot, if I had you out on Sarum plain,
I’d send you clucking back to Camelot.

CORNWALL.
What, are you crazy, old friend?

GLOUCESTER.
What happened? Just let me know.

KENT.
No differences create more hostility
Than between me and that scoundrel.

CORNWALL.
Why do you call him a villain? What has he done wrong?

KENT.
His face doesn't like me.

CORNWALL.
No longer does mine, or his, or hers.

KENT.
Sir, it's my job to be straightforward:
I've seen better faces in my time
Than the ones I see on anyone here
Before me right now.

CORNWALL.
This is a guy
Who, having been praised for being straightforward, puts on
A sassy roughness and forces a style
That’s completely unlike him: he can’t flatter,
He’s honest and straightforward, he has to speak the truth!
If they can handle it, fine; if not, he’s just being real.
I know people like this who, beneath their plainness,
Hide more cunning and more corrupt intentions
Than twenty fawning sycophants
Who carefully play their roles.

KENT.
Sir, honestly and truly,
With your impressive presence in mind,
Whose influence is like a bright flame
On flickering Phoebus’ forehead,—

CORNWALL.
What does this mean?

KENT.
To step away from my speech, which you criticize so much. I know, sir, I’m not one to flatter: the person who tricked you with a straightforward tone was just a simple crook; as for me, I won't be that, even if it means earning your disapproval to ask me to do so.

CORNWALL.
What did you do to upset him?

OSWALD.
I never gave him anything:
It pleased the King, his master, recently
To go after me because he misunderstood;
When he, colluding and feeding his anger,
Tripped me from behind; once I was down, he insulted me, yelled
And put on such a show of strength,
That he earned praise from the King
For taking on someone who was already defeated;
And, in the aftermath of this terrifying act,
He came after me again.

KENT.
None of these swindlers and cowards
But Ajax is the only one who looks foolish.

CORNWALL.
Bring out the stocks!
You stubborn old fool, you arrogant bragger,
We’ll show you.

KENT.
Sir, I’m too old to learn:
Don’t call your attendants for me: I serve the King;
I was sent to you on his behalf:
You’ll show little respect, demonstrate too much hostility
Against the dignity and character of my master,
By mistreating his messenger.

CORNWALL.
Bring out the stocks!
As long as I'm alive and have honor, he will stay there until noon.

REGAN.
Until noon! Until nighttime, my lord; and all night long too!

KENT.
Well, ma'am, if I were your father's dog,
You shouldn't treat me like this.

REGAN.
Sir, since I'm his servant, I will.

Stocks released.

CORNWALL.
This is a guy of the same color
Our sister talks about. Come on, grab the stocks!

GLOUCESTER.
Please, I urge you not to do that:
His mistakes are serious, and the good King he serves
Will reprimand him for it: your intended low punishment
Is what the most despicable and disdained criminals
Receive for petty thefts and everyday offenses.
The King will surely be upset
That his messenger, who is so undervalued,
Should be treated this way.

CORNWALL.
I’ll respond to that.

REGAN.
My sister might take it even worse,
To have her man mistreated and attacked,
For looking out for her interests. Put in his legs.

Kent is put in stocks.

CORNWALL.
Come on, my good lord.

[Everyone exits except Gloucester and Kent.]

GLOUCESTER.
I feel for you, my friend; it’s the Duke’s decision,
Whose temperament, as everyone knows,
Can’t be changed or halted; I’ll speak on your behalf.

KENT.
Please don’t, sir: I’ve been watching and traveling hard;
Soon I will sleep outside, the rest I’ll whistle.
A good man’s luck can fade away:
Have a good morning!

GLOUCESTER.
The Duke is at fault here: this will be taken poorly.

[Log out.]

KENT.
Good King, you must agree with the common saying,
You come from heaven’s blessing
To the warm sun.
Come closer, you beacon to this world,
So that I can read this letter in your comforting light. Almost nothing sees miracles
Except for suffering. I know it’s from Cordelia,
Who has very fortunately been told
About my difficult situation. And I’ll find time
In this massive chaos, trying to find
Solutions for these losses. All tired and sleep-deprived,
Take advantage, heavy eyes, don’t look
At this shameful place.
Fortune, good night: smile again, turn your wheel!

He’s sleeping.

Enter Edgar.

EDGAR.
I heard myself declared,
And by the happy hollow of a tree
I escaped the hunt. No port is safe, no place
That watch and unusual vigilance
Does not interfere with my capture. While I may get away,
I will keep myself safe: and I plan
To take on the lowest and most miserable form
That ever poverty, in contempt of man,
Brought close to beast: I’ll cover my face with dirt,
Wrap my lower body in a blanket; tie my hair in knots,
And with my nakedness, face
The winds and assaults of the sky.
The country provides me with evidence and examples
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with loud voices,
Strike their numb and battered bare arms
With pins, wooden sticks, nails, and sprigs of rosemary;
And with this horrible sight, from lowly farms,
Poor struggling villages, sheep pens, and mills,
Sometimes with mad chants, sometimes with prayers,
They demand charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom,
That’s something still: Edgar is nothing.

[Log out.]

Enter Lear, Fool, and Gentleman.

LEAR.
It's strange that they would leave home like this,
And not send my messenger back.

GENTLEMAN.
As I heard,
The night before, they had no reason
For this move.

KENT.
Hail to you, noble master!

LEAR.
Ha! Are you making a joke out of this shame?

KENT.
No, my lord.

FOOL.
Ha, ha! He wears some harsh garters. Horses are tied by their heads; dogs and bears by their necks, monkeys by their waists, and men by their legs. When a man is too eager about legs, he then wears wooden pants.

LEAR.
Who messed up so badly that they put you here?

KENT.
It's both him and her,
Your son and daughter.

LEAR.
No.

KENT.
Yep.

LEAR.
No way, I say.

KENT.
I agree.

LEAR.
No, they wouldn't.

KENT.
Yes, they have.

LEAR.
I swear, no way.

KENT.
I swear by Juno.

LEAR.
They wouldn't dare to do it.
They could not, would not do it; it’s worse than murder,
To commit such a violent act out of obligation:
Tell me, quickly and respectfully, why
You might deserve this treatment or why they force it on you,
Coming from us.

KENT.
My lord, when I was at their home,
I delivered your letters to them,
Before I even got up from where I knelt,
A sweaty messenger rushed in,
Breathless and panting, bringing greetings from Goneril,
He handed over letters without any delay,
Which they read right away; based on those,
They gathered their followers, quickly mounted their horses;
They ordered me to follow and wait
For their response; they gave me cold glares:
And then I ran into the other messenger,
Whose greeting I could tell had poisoned mine,
Being the same guy who recently
Spoke so boldly against your highness,
Fueled by more bravado than sense, I drew my sword;
He raised a ruckus with loud and cowardly shouts.
Your son and daughter found this offense worth
The embarrassment it brings here.

FOOL.
Winter isn’t over yet, if the wild geese are flying that way.
  Fathers who wear rags
    Do make their children blind,
  But fathers who have money
    Will see their children kind.
  Fortune, that shameless whore,
  Never helps the poor.
But despite all this, you’ll have as many troubles for your daughters as you can count in a year.

LEAR.
Oh, how this mother swells up in my heart!
Hysterical passion, hold down, you rising sadness,
Your place is below! Where is this daughter?

KENT.
The earl is here with us, sir.

LEAR.
Don't follow me; stay here.

[Leave.]

GENTLEMAN.
Did I offend you in any way other than what you've mentioned?

KENT.
None.
Why does the King come with such a small group?

FOOL.
If you had been put in the stocks for that question, you would have fully deserved it.

KENT.
Why, idiot?

FOOL.
We'll send you to school with an ant, to teach you that there’s no work in winter. Everyone who follows their instincts is led by blind judgment, and there isn’t a person among twenty who can’t smell someone who’s rotten. Let go when a big wheel rolls down a hill, or it might break your neck trying to chase it; but the big one that goes uphill, let it pull you along. When a wise person gives you better advice, give me mine back: I prefer to have only fools follow it, since a fool is the one giving it.
That guy who serves and looks for profit,
And follows just for show,
Will bail when it starts to rain,
And leave you in the storm.
But I will stay; the fool will stick around,
And let the wise man leave:
The scoundrel turns fool by running away;
The fool is not a scoundrel, that’s for sure.

KENT.
Where did you learn this, fool?

FOOL.
Not in the stocks, fool.

Enter Lear and Gloucester.

LEAR.
Refusing to talk to me? Are they sick? Are they tired?
Have they traveled all night? Just excuses;
The signs of rebellion and running away.
Get me a better answer.

GLOUCESTER.
My dear lord,
You know how passionate the Duke is;
How stubborn and set he is
In his own way.

LEAR.
Revenge! misery! death! chaos!
Fiery? What do you mean? Come on, Gloucester, Gloucester,
I need to talk to the Duke of Cornwall and his wife.

GLOUCESTER.
Well, my good lord, I've let them know.

LEAR.
Informed them! Do you understand me, man?

GLOUCESTER.
Yes, my good lord.

LEAR.
The King wants to talk to Cornwall; the loving father
Wants to talk to his daughter. Are they aware of this? My gosh!
Fiery? Tell the angry Duke that—
No, not yet: maybe he’s not feeling well:
Illness often makes us neglect our duties
That our health depends on: we aren’t ourselves
When our bodies are under pressure and force the mind
To deal with the pain: I'll hold back;
And I’ve gotten into conflict with my more impulsive side,
Taking the unwell and sickly condition
For the healthy man. [Looking at Kent.]
Death to my position! Why
Should he sit here? This situation convinces me
That this dismissal of the Duke and her
Is just a ploy. Get my servant here.
Go tell the Duke and his wife I need to speak with them,
Right away: tell them to come out and listen to me,
Or at their door I’ll make a racket
Until it lulls them to sleep.

GLOUCESTER.
I hope everything is good between you.

[Leave.]

LEAR.
Oh me, my heart, my beating heart! But calm down!

FOOL.
Shout at it, Dad, like the cockney did to the eels when she put them in the paste alive; she whacked them on the heads with a stick and shouted ‘Down, wantons, down!’ It was her brother who, just out of kindness to his horse, buttered his hay.

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Gloucester, and Servants.

LEAR.
Good morning to you both.

CORNWALL.
Greetings, your grace!

[Kent is now free.]

REGAN.
I'm glad to see you, your highness.

LEAR.
Regan, I believe you’re right; I know why I think so: if you aren’t happy, I would separate myself from your mother’s grave, burying an unfaithful woman. [To Kent] Oh, are you available? Some other time for that.—Dear Regan, your sister is terrible: oh Regan, she has brought sharp cruelty, like a vulture, here.

[Points to his heart.]

I can hardly talk to you; you won’t believe
How twisted a nature—Oh Regan!

REGAN.
Please, sir, be patient. I hope
You understand her worth less
Than she understands her responsibilities.

LEAR.
What's that about?

REGAN.
I can't believe my sister would ever fail her duty. If, sir, perhaps
She has kept your followers in check,
It's for that reason, and for such a good purpose,
That it absolves her of any blame.

Cursed be her name.

REGAN.
Oh, sir, you're getting old;
Nature has you on the brink
Of her limits: you should be guided and directed
By some wisdom that understands your situation
Better than you do. So I ask you,
That you apologize to our sister;
Just admit you’ve done her wrong, sir.

LEAR.
Should I ask her for forgiveness?
Do you see how this reflects on the family?
‘Dear daughter, I admit that I’m old;
[Kneeling.]
Age doesn’t matter: I’m on my knees begging
That you’ll grant me clothes, a place to sleep, and something to eat.’

REGAN.
Enough already! These are ugly tricks:
Go back to my sister.

LEAR.
[Getting up.] Never, Regan:
She has reduced my followers by half;
Gave me a dirty look; hurt me with her words,
Like a snake, right to the heart.
All the stored-up punishments of heaven fall
On her ungrateful head! May you strike her young bones,
You who take airs, with lameness!

CORNWALL.
Shame on you, sir!

LEAR.
You quick lightnings, shoot your blinding flames
Into her contemptuous eyes! Infect her beauty,
You swampy mists, pulled in by the powerful sun,
To drop and ruin her pride!

REGAN.
Oh, the blessed gods!
So you'll wish that on me when you're feeling impulsive.

LEAR.
No, Regan, you'll never have my curse.
Your gentle nature won't allow
You to turn to cruelty. Her eyes are fierce, but yours
Bring comfort, not pain. It's not in you
To begrudge my happiness, to cut off my followers,
To throw around harsh words, to limit my needs,
And, ultimately, to block me from entering. You know better
The duties of family, the bond of childhood,
The impact of kindness, the debts of gratitude;
You haven't forgotten your part of the kingdom
That I gave to you.

REGAN.
Hey, let's get to the point.

LEAR.
Who put my guy in the stocks?

Stay inside.

CORNWALL.
What trumpet is that?

REGAN.
I know it, my sister's: this confirms her letter,
That she will be here soon.

Enter Oswald.

Is your woman here?

LEAR.
This is a servant, whose borrowed confidence
Rests in the unreliable favor of the one she follows.
Get out, fool, from my sight!

CORNWALL.
What does your grace mean?

LEAR.
Who hired my servant? Regan, I really hope
You didn’t know about it. Who is this? Oh my God!

Enter Goneril.

If you love older men, and your charm can persuade obedience, then since you’re also older, make this your mission; step up and support me! [To Goneril.] Aren’t you embarrassed to look at this beard? Oh Regan, will you take her by the hand?

GONERIL.
Why not just say it to my face, sir? How have I done something wrong?
Not everything that someone finds careless
Is truly an offense, despite what old age calls it.

LEAR.
Oh, come on, you’re being too harsh!
Are you going to stop? How did my guy end up in the stocks?

CORNWALL.
I put him there, sir: but his own issues
Deserved much less recognition.

LEAR.
Did you?

REGAN.
Please, father, if you're feeling weak, let it show.
If you’ll come back and stay with my sister
after a month,
leaving half your entourage behind, then come to me:
I am away from home right now, and I don't have enough supplies
for your visit.

LEAR.
Go back to her, and send away fifty men?
No, I’d rather reject all buildings and choose
To fight against the harshness of the elements;
To be a companion to the wolf and owl,
Driven by desperate need! Go back with her?
Why, I could just as easily be made to kneel
Before the throne of that hot-headed France,
Who took our youngest child without a dowry,
And beg like a squire for a pension
To keep this lowly life going. Go back with her?
Convince me instead to be a servant and pack animal
To this hated groom.

[Pointing at Oswald.]

GONERIL.
It's your choice, sir.

LEAR.
Please, daughter, don’t drive me crazy:
I won’t bother you, my child; goodbye:
We won’t see each other again.
But you are still my flesh and blood, my daughter;
Or more like a disease in my flesh,
That I have to call my own. You are a boil,
A plague sore, or a nasty carbuncle
In my corrupted blood. But I won’t scold you;
Let shame come when it wants, I won’t summon it:
I don’t tell the thunder to strike,
Nor do I share your stories with the high heavens:
Fix yourself when you can; improve at your own pace:
I can be patient; I can stay with Regan,
I and my hundred knights.

REGAN.
Not entirely so,
I didn’t expect you yet, nor am I ready
For your proper welcome. Listen, sir, to my sister;
For those who mix reason with your emotions
Must be okay with thinking you’re old, and so—
But she knows what she’s doing.

LEAR.
Is this well said?

REGAN.
I can definitely say it, sir: what, fifty followers?
Is that really necessary? Why do you need more?
Yes, or that many, since both expense and danger
Argue against such a large group? How in one house
Could so many people, under two commands,
Get along? It’s tough; nearly impossible.

GONERIL.
Why can't you, my lord, accept help
From those she refers to as servants, or from my own?

REGAN.
Why not, my lord? If they happen to loosen their grip on you,
We could manage them. If you come to me,—
Because I see a threat now,—I ask you
To bring just twenty-five: I won’t accept or pay attention to more than that.

LEAR.
I gave you everything,—

REGAN.
And you gave it at the right moment.

LEAR.
I made you my guardians and entrusted my things to you;
But I had a condition to be met
With a specific number. What, do I have to come to you
With twenty-five, Regan, did you say that?

REGAN.
And say it again, my lord; don’t say anything more to me.

LEAR.
Those evil beings still seem attractive
When others are even more evil; not being the worst
gives them some level of respect.
[To Goneril.] I’ll go with you:
Your fifty is still double twenty-five,
And you love her twice as much.

GONERIL.
Listen to me, my lord:
What do you need twenty-five for? Ten? Or five?
To stay in a house where twice that many
Are here to take care of you?

What does one need?

LEAR.
Oh, don’t try to justify the need: our most desperate beggars
Have more than what they really require:
Nature shouldn’t give more than what it needs,
A person’s life is worth as little as an animal’s. You’re a lady;
If just staying warm were enough to be considered beautiful,
Then nature doesn’t need what you wear,
Which hardly keeps you warm. But, for real necessity,—
You heavens, grant me that patience, patience I crave!
You see me here, gods, as a poor old man,
Filled with sorrow as much as age; miserable in both!
If it’s you that stirs these daughters’ hearts
Against their father, don’t fool me so much
As to endure it calmly; ignite me with noble anger,
And don’t let tears, the weapons of women,
Stain my manly cheeks! No, you unnatural witches,
I will take such revenge on both of you
That the whole world shall know,—I will do such things,—
What those things are, I don’t know yet; but they will be
The terrors of the earth. You think I’ll cry;
No, I won’t cry:— [Storm and tempest.]
I have every reason to cry; but this heart
Will shatter into a hundred thousand pieces
Before I’ll shed a tear.—Oh, fool, I’m going to go mad!

[Exit Lear, Gloucester, Kent and Fool.]

CORNWALL.
Let’s step back; it’s going to be a storm.

REGAN.
This house is small: the old man and his family
Can't really be accommodated well.

GONERIL.
It’s his own fault; he’s distanced himself from peace
And has to face the consequences of his foolishness.

REGAN.
For what he specifically wants, I’ll gladly accept him,
But not a single follower.

GONERIL.
That's my plan.
Where is my lord Gloucester?

Enter Gloucester.

CORNWALL.
He followed the old man out; he has returned.

GLOUCESTER.
The King is super angry.

CORNWALL.
Where is he going?

GLOUCESTER.
He calls for a horse; but I don't know where he plans to go.

CORNWALL.
It's better to let him go; he knows his own path.

GONERIL.
My lord, please do not ask him to stay.

GLOUCESTER.
Oh no, the night is coming, and the strong winds
Are really stirring things up; for many miles around
There’s hardly a bush.

REGAN.
Oh, sir, for stubborn people,
The harm they cause themselves
Must be their teachers. Close your doors.
He’s with a reckless crowd,
And whatever they might provoke him to, being likely
To twist his ear, wisdom says to be afraid.

CORNWALL.
Close your doors, my lord; it’s a wild night.
My Regan gives good advice: come in from the storm.

[Exit.]

A storm with thunder and lightning. Enter Kent and a Guy, separately.

KENT.
Who's there, other than bad weather?

GENTLEMAN.
He's as changeable as the weather, really restless.

KENT.
I know you. Where's the King?

GENTLEMAN.
Struggling against the restless forces of nature;
He wishes for the wind to blow the land into the ocean,
Or for the waves to rise above the sea,
So that everything might change or come to an end; he tears at his white hair,
Which the wild gusts, filled with blind fury,
Snatch away and destroy;
He tries in his small human world to mock
The back-and-forth battling of the wind and rain.
On this night, when even the bear with her cubs would settle down,
The lion and the starving wolf
Keep their fur dry, while he, hatless, runs,
And lets whatever happens take its course.

KENT.
But who’s with him?

GENTLEMAN.
Only a fool tries to make jokes out of the pain in his heart.

KENT.
Sir, I know who you are;
And I dare to trust you with something important based on my insights.
There is a split,
Even though it’s still hidden
Under mutual deceit, between Albany and Cornwall;
Both of whom, like many others, have their ambitions
Set high; with servants who appear no different,
But are actually spies for France, informing them
About our situation. What we’ve observed,
Whether in the scheming of the Dukes;
Or the harsh control both have imposed
On the old King; or something deeper,
Which might just be the surface of a greater issue;—
But the truth is, a force from France is
Entering this fragmented kingdom; they’re already,
Aware of our carelessness, have a covert presence
In some of our key ports, and are ready
To reveal their open flag.—Now to you:
If you can trust my word enough
To hurry to Dover, you will find
Some who will appreciate your efforts
In reporting how unnatural and maddening the King’s sorrow
Has become.
I am a man of noble blood and upbringing;
And with some understanding and confidence,
I offer this task to you.

Gentleman.
I'll talk to you later.

KENT.
No, don’t.
To prove that I’m much more
Than just my appearance, open this purse and take
What’s inside. If you see Cordelia,
And I’m sure you will, show her this ring;
She’ll tell you who your companion is
That you don’t know yet. Damn this storm!
I’ll go find the King.

GENTLEMAN.
Give me your hand: do you have nothing else to say?

KENT.
A few words, but they mean more than everything said so far:
When we find the King, with your help
I’ll take this path; whoever finds him first
Call the others.

[Exit.]

Storm continues. Enter Lear and Fool.

LEAR.
Blow, winds, and tear your cheeks! Rage! Blow!
You torrents and hurricanes, pour down
Until you've soaked our steeples and drowned the roosters!
You fiery blasts that carry out execution,
Heralds of thunder that split the oaks,
Burn my white hair! And you, all-shaking thunder,
Flatten the thick roundness of the world!
Break nature’s molds, let all that creates ungrateful man spill out at once!

FOOL.
Oh uncle, having holy water in a dry house is better than this rainwater outside. Good uncle, come inside and ask your daughters for their blessing: tonight shows no mercy to either wise men or fools.

LEAR.
Roar like a beast! Spit fire! Pour down rain!
Neither rain, wind, thunder, nor fire are my daughters;
I don’t blame you, elements, for being unkind.
I never gave you a kingdom, called you my children;
You don’t owe me anything: so unleash
Your terrible fury. Here I stand, your servant,
A poor, frail, weak, and despised old man:
Yet I still call you obedient servants,
Who will join forces with two wicked daughters
To wage your fierce battles against a head
As old and white as mine! Oh! Oh! it’s disgraceful!

FOOL.
Anyone with a roof over their head is doing pretty well.
The codpiece that will cover
Before the head has anything,
The head and he will be plagued:
So beggars marry a lot.
The man who lets his toe
Control what his heart should decide
Will end up crying over a corn,
And turn his dreams into worries.
For there has never been a beautiful woman who didn't pout at her reflection.

LEAR.
No, I will be the example of all patience;
I won't say a word.

Enter Kent.

KENT.
Who's there?

FOOL.
Well, here’s some style and a codpiece; that’s a smart guy and a fool.

KENT.
Oh no, sir, is that you? Things that thrive in the night
Don’t love nights like these; the angry skies
Drive away even the stragglers of the dark,
And force them to hide in their caves. In my lifetime,
I’ve never heard such sheets of fire, such horrific thunder,
Such howls of raging wind and rain.
Human nature can’t handle
This suffering or the fear.

LEAR.
Let the great gods,
Who keep this horrific chaos over us,
Expose their enemies now. Tremble, you wretch,
Who carry hidden crimes within you
That justice has never punished. Hide, you bloody hand;
You perjurer, and you false pretender to virtue
Who are incestuous. Coward, shake apart
You who have plotted against lives under,
A deceitful and convenient appearance:
Intense guilt, burst forth from your hidden depths, and cry
For these terrifying summons for mercy. I am a man
More wronged than wrongdoer.

KENT.
Oh no, without my hat!
My lord, there’s a little hut nearby;
It can offer you some shelter from the storm:
Rest there while I go to this harsh place,—
Harder than the stones it's built from;
They just told me, when I asked for you,
That I couldn’t come in,—I’ll go back and make them
Be a little more polite.

LEAR.
I'm starting to lose my mind.
Come on, my boy. How are you, my boy? Are you cold?
I'm cold too. Where's this straw, my friend?
It's strange how our needs can make worthless things feel valuable. Come on, let's go to your hovel.
Poor fool and idiot, there's a part of me that still feels sorry for you.

FOOL.
[Singing.]
   He who has just a bit of wit,
     With heigh-ho, the wind and the rain,
   Must be okay with the luck he's got,
     Even though it rains every day.

LEAR.
That's right, kid. Come on, take us to this dump.

[Exit Lear and Kent.]

FOOL.
This is a bold night to calm a classy woman. Before I leave, I’ll share a prophecy:
When priests talk more than they act;
When brewers ruin their malt with water;
When nobles become their tailors’ teachers;
No heretics burned, but lovers of women;
When every legal case is just;
No squire in debt, nor any poor knight;
When gossip doesn’t spread;
Nor thieves gather in groups;
When moneylenders count their gold in the fields;
And pimps and prostitutes build churches,
Then the land of Albion
Will fall into great chaos:
Then comes the time, for those who live to see it,
That walking will be done with feet.
This prophecy will be made by Merlin; for I exist before his time.

[Log out.]

Enter Gloucester and Edmund.

GLOUCESTER.
Oh no, Edmund, I really don’t like this unnatural behavior. When I asked for permission to show him pity, they took away my right to my own home; they ordered me, under threat of lasting anger, not to speak about him, plead for him, or support him in any way.

EDMUND.
So savage and unnatural!

GLOUCESTER.
Listen, don’t say anything. There’s a rift between the Dukes, and something even worse: I got a letter tonight—it’s risky to discuss. I’ve locked the letter away in my room; the King is suffering greatly, and he’ll seek revenge. There’s already a part of an army on the move: we need to support the King. I’ll talk to him privately and help him out: you go and keep the Duke engaged so he doesn’t notice my kindness toward him. If he asks for me, I’ll say I’m sick and went to bed. If I have to pay the price for this, and it seems that I might, the King, my old master, will need assistance. Something strange is happening, Edmund; please be cautious.

[Leave.]

EDMUND.
This kindness, I forbid you to mention; the Duke
Will know about it right away, along with that letter.
This seems like a worthy act, and it must lead me
To what my father loses, which is everything:
The younger takes over when the older falls.

[Log out.]

Storm continues. Enter Lear, Kent and Fool.

KENT.
This is the spot, my lord; please, my lord, come in:
The harshness of the open night is too much
For nature to handle.

LEAVE ME ALONE.

KENT.
My lord, please come in.

LEAR.
Will you break my heart?

KENT.
I’d rather break my own. Please, my lord, come in.

LEAR.
You think it's a lot that this fierce storm
is hitting us hard: it is for you,
but where the bigger problem lies,
the smaller one is hardly felt. You’d run from a bear;
but if your escape is toward the raging sea,
you’ll run right into the bear’s mouth. When the mind’s
clear, the body gets weak: the storm in my mind
takes away all other feelings
except for what’s pounding inside me. Filial ingratitude!
Is it not like this mouth would tear this hand
for feeding it? But I will keep it real;
No, I won’t cry anymore. To be shut out on a night
like this! Bring it on; I will endure:
On a night like this! Oh Regan, Goneril!
Your old loving father, who gave everything,
Oh, that way leads to madness; let me avoid that;
No more of that.

KENT.
My lord, please come in.

LEAR.
Please go inside; take care of yourself:
This storm won’t let me think
About things that would hurt me more. But I’ll go in.
[To the Fool.] You go in first, kid. You with no home,
Come on, get inside. I’ll pray, and then I’ll sleep.

Fool enters.

Poor homeless people, wherever you are,
Enduring the relentless pounding of this merciless storm,
How will your exposed heads and empty bellies,
Your tattered clothes and broken shelter, protect you
From seasons like this? Oh, I’ve been careless about this!
Take away your luxury;
Experience the suffering of the needy,
So you can reduce your excess for them
And show the heavens to be more fair.

EDGAR.
[Inside.] Depth and a half, depth and a half! Poor Tom!

The Fool runs out from the hovel.

FOOL.
Don’t come in here, uncle, there’s a ghost.
Help me, help me!

KENT.
Give me your hand. Who's there?

FOOL.
A spirit, a spirit: he says his name's poor Tom.

KENT.
Who are you that’s complaining there in the straw?
Step forward.

Enter Edgar, pretending to be crazy.

EDGAR.
Get away! The nasty spirit is after me! The cold wind is blowing through the sharp hawthorn. Hmph! Go to your cold bed and warm yourself.

LEAR.
Did you give everything to your two daughters?
And have you come to this?

EDGAR.
Who gives anything to poor Tom? The one the ugly fiend has led through fire and flames, across rivers and whirlpools, over bogs and muddy ground; who has had knives placed under his pillow and nooses in his pew, who found poison next to his porridge; who has gotten proud enough to ride a bay trotting horse over four-inch bridges, to chase his own shadow as if it were a traitor. Bless your five senses! Tom’s cold. Oh, do, de, do, de, do, de. Bless you from whirlwinds, star explosions, and danger! Please do some charity for poor Tom, who is tormented by the foul fiend. There I could find him now, and there,—and there again, and there.

Storm is ongoing.

LEAR.
What, did his daughters bring him to this point?
Could you save nothing? Did you give them everything?

FOOL.
No, he saved a blanket; otherwise, we would all have been embarrassed.

LEAR.
Now all the disasters that hang in the air
Fated to strike because of people's mistakes fall on your daughters!

KENT.
He doesn't have any daughters, sir.

LEAR.
Death, you traitor! Nothing could have brought nature
Down to such a low point but his ungrateful daughters.
Is it the norm that rejected fathers
Should receive so little compassion from their own flesh?
What a fair punishment! It was this flesh that gave birth
To those selfish daughters.

EDGAR.
Pillicock sat on Pillicock Hill,
Low, low, loo loo!

FOOL.
This cold night will make us all foolish and crazy.

EDGAR.
Listen to the wicked spirit: obey your parents; keep your promises; don’t swear; don’t get involved with another man's wife; don’t dress up your lover too extravagantly. Tom is cold.

LEAR.
What have you been?

EDGAR.
A servant, proud in heart and mind; who curled my hair; wore gloves in my cap; fulfilled my mistress's desires, and engaged in secret acts with her; swore as many oaths as I spoke words, and broke them under the watchful sky. One who slept while plotting lust, and woke to carry it out. I loved wine deeply, gambled dearly; and in women, outdid even the Turks. Deceitful at heart, eager to listen, violent in action; lazy like a pig, sly like a fox, greedy like a wolf, mad like a dog, fierce like a lion. Don’t let the creaking of shoes or the rustling of silks expose your weak heart to a woman. Keep your feet away from brothels, your hands out of shady places, your pen off lenders' books, and stand against the foul fiend. The cold wind still blows through the hawthorn: says suum, mun, nonny. Dolphin my boy, boy, enough already! Let him trot by.

Storm is still ongoing.

LEAR.
Why, you'd be better off in your grave than to face the harshness of the sky with your bare body. Is man really just this? Think about it. You owe the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! Here’s three of us who are sophisticated! You are just the raw thing: unrefined man is nothing more than a poor, naked, flawed creature like you are. Off, off with your add-ons! Come, let’s strip this off.

Rips off his clothes.

FOOL.
Please, uncle, be satisfied; it’s a terrible night to be out on the water. A little fire in a wild field is like an old man's heart—just a tiny spark, while the rest of him is cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.

EDGAR.
This is the creepy fiend Flibbertigibbet: he starts at curfew and walks until the first rooster crows; he messes with the web and the pin, squints the eye, and creates a harelip; he ruins the white wheat and harms the poor creatures of the earth.
   Swithold footed thrice the old;
   He met the nightmare, and her nine-fold;
     Bid her land and her promise bind,
   And get lost, witch, get lost!

KENT.
How is your grace?

Enter Gloucester with a flashlight.

LEAR.
What is he?

KENT.
Who’s there? What do you want?

GLOUCESTER.
What are you doing there? What are your names?

EDGAR.
Poor Tom; who eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and the water; who, in the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, eats cow dung for salads; swallows the old rat and the ditch dog; drinks the green sludge of the standing pool; who is whipped from one village to another, and punished, tortured, and imprisoned; who has had three suits to wear, six shirts on his body,
    a horse to ride, and a weapon to carry.
    But mice and rats and such small creatures,
    have been Tom's food for seven long years.
Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, you fiend!

GLOUCESTER.
What, don’t you have better company?

EDGAR.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman:
He's called Modo, and Mahu.

GLOUCESTER.
Our flesh and blood, my lord, has become so corrupt
That it hates what produces it.

EDGAR.
Poor Tom is cold.

GLOUCESTER.
Come with me: I can't ignore my duty
To obey all your daughters' harsh orders;
Even if they tell me to shut my doors,
And let this ruthless night take over you,
I’ve still taken the chance to find you,
And bring you to a place where there's both heat and food ready.

LEAR.
First, let me talk to this philosopher.
What's the cause of thunder?

KENT.
Please, my lord, accept his offer; go inside the house.

LEAR.
I need to have a word with this wise Theban.
What do you study?

EDGAR.
How to stop the monster and get rid of pests.

LEAR.
Can I ask you something in private?

KENT.
Pester him again to leave, my lord;
He’s starting to lose his mind.

GLOUCESTER.
Can you blame him?
His daughters want him dead. Ah, that good Kent!
He predicted this outcome, poor banished man!
You say the King is going crazy; I’ll tell you, my friend,
I’m almost losing my mind too. I had a son,
Now cut off from my blood; he tried to kill me
Not long ago, very recently: I loved him, friend,
No father loves his son more: to be honest with you,

Storm persists.

The grief has driven me to madness. What kind of night is this?
I sincerely ask for your help.

LEAR.
Oh, I beg your pardon, sir.
It's an honor to have you here, noble philosopher.

EDGAR.
Tom's cold.

GLOUCESTER.
Come in, my friend, and take a seat in the hovel; stay warm.

LEAR.
Come on, let's go in.

KENT.
This way, my lord.

LEAR.
With him;
I will stay quiet with my philosopher.

KENT.
Please, my lord, calm him down; let him take the guy.

GLOUCESTER.
Take him with you.

KENT.
Hey, come on; hang out with us.

LEAR.
Come on, good Athenian.

GLOUCESTER.
Silence, no words, hush.

EDGAR.
Child Rowland came to the dark tower,
His words were clear—Fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.

[They exit.]

Enter Cornwall and Edmund.

CORNWALL.
I will get my revenge before I leave his house.

EDMUND.
How, my lord, I might get judged for this, with nature giving in to loyalty, makes me uneasy to think about.

CORNWALL.
I now realize it wasn't just your brother's bad character that led him to seek his death; it was an irritating talent, fueled by some unacceptable flaws in himself.

EDMUND.
How cruel is my fate, that I have to regret being fair! This is the letter he mentioned, which shows he’s aware of France’s advantages. Oh, what a pity that this betrayal exists; or that I’m not the one who exposes it!

CORNWALL.
Come with me to the Duchess.

EDMUND.
If the topic of this document is clear, you have important work to do.

CORNWALL.
True or false, it has made you the Earl of Gloucester. Find out where your father is so he can be prepared for us to capture him.

EDMUND.
[Aside.] If I catch him reassuring the King, it will only deepen his suspicion. I'll stick to my path of loyalty, even though it creates a painful conflict with my own blood.

CORNWALL.
I will put my trust in you; and you will find a more loving father in my affection.

[Exit.]

Enter Gloucester, Lear, Kent, Fool, and Edgar.

GLOUCESTER.
This is better than being outside; accept it gratefully. I'll add some comfort with whatever I can: I won't be gone long.

KENT.
All the strength of his intelligence has been overtaken by his impatience:— the gods repay your kindness!

[Exit Gloucester.]

EDGAR.
Frateretto calls me and tells me Nero is fishing in the lake of darkness. Please, be innocent and watch out for the evil spirit.

FOOL.
Please, uncle, tell me if a madman is a gentleman or a farmer.

LEAR.
A king, a king!

FOOL.
No, he’s a farmer who has a gentleman for a son; because he’s a crazy farmer who sees his son as a gentleman before him.

LEAR.
To have a thousand red-hot stakes
Come hissing in at them.

EDGAR.
The nasty demon is biting my back.

FOOL.
He’s a fool to trust in the gentleness of a wolf, a horse’s well-being, a boy’s affection, or a prostitute’s promise.

LEAR.
It will be done; I'll bring them in right away.
[To Edgar.] Come, sit here, wise judge;
[To the Fool.] You, clever sir, sit here. Now, you cunning ladies!—

EDGAR.
Look at him standing there, glaring! Do you want to see him at the trial, madam?
  Come over here, Bessy, to me.

FOOL.
Her boat has a leak,
And she can't say
Why she doesn't dare to come over to you.

EDGAR.
The nasty spirit torments poor Tom with the sound of a nightingale. Hoppedance is screaming in Tom’s stomach for two white herring. Don’t croak, black angel; I have no food for you.

KENT.
How are you, sir? Don't look so stunned;
Do you want to lie down and relax on the cushions?

LEAR.
I’ll review their trial first. Bring in their evidence.
[To Edgar.] You, dressed as a judge, take your place.
[To the Fool.] And you, his partner in fairness,
Sit by his side. [To Kent.] You’re on the commission,
You sit too.

EDGAR.
   Let’s be fair.
   Are you asleep or awake, cheerful shepherd?
     Your sheep are in the corn;
   And for just one sound from your tiny mouth,
     Your sheep will be fine.
Purr! The cat is gray.

LEAR.
Charge her first; it's Goneril. I swear before this honorable group that she kicked her poor father, the King.

FOOL.
Come here, miss. Is your name Goneril?

LEAR.
She can't deny it.

FOOL.
Sorry, I thought you were just a stool.

LEAR.
And here’s another one, whose twisted looks show
What her heart is really made of. Stop her right there!
Weapons, weapons! Sword! Fire! Corruption everywhere!
False judge, why did you let her escape?

EDGAR.
Bless your five senses!

KENT.
Oh, what a shame! Sir, where is the patience now
That you often claimed to have?

EDGAR.
[Aside.] My tears are getting in the way of my act so much
That they're ruining my disguise.

LEAR.
The little dogs and all,
Trey, Blanch, and Sweetheart, look—they're barking at me.

EDGAR.
Tom will throw his head at them. Get lost, you mutts!
Be your mouth black or white,
A bite that poisons if it fights;
Mastiff, greyhound, or nasty mongrel,
Hound or spaniel, brach or him,
Or bobtail or trundle-tail,
Tom will make them cry and wail;
For, by throwing my head like this,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all run off.
Come on, let’s head to wakes, fairs, and market towns. Poor Tom, your horn is dry.

LEAR.
Then let them examine Regan; see what's going on in her heart. Is there anything in nature that creates these cold hearts? [To Edgar.] You, sir, I consider one of my hundred; I just don’t like the style of your clothes. You’ll say they’re Persian; but they need to be changed.

KENT.
Now, my lord, lie down and take a break for a bit.

LEAR.
Be quiet, be quiet; pull the curtains.
Alright, alright. We'll have dinner in the morning.

FOOL.
And I’ll go to bed at noon.

Enter Gloucester.

GLOUCESTER.
Come here, friend;
Where is my master, the King?

KENT.
Here, sir; but don’t bother him, he’s lost his mind.

GLOUCESTER.
Good friend, please pick him up;
I’ve overheard a plot to kill him;
There’s a stretcher ready; put him on it
And head towards Dover, where you’ll find
Both safety and shelter. Pick up your master;
If you delay for even half an hour, his life,
Along with yours and anyone else who tries to protect him,
Will be at serious risk. Hurry, hurry;
And follow me, I’ll help you get there quickly.

KENT.
Overwhelmed nature is at rest.
This rest could still heal your injured muscles,
Which, if it’s not convenient,
Will remain in tough condition. Come, help carry your master;
[To the Fool.] You can’t be left behind.

GLOUCESTER.
Come on, let's go!

[Exit Kent, Gloucester and the Fool carrying Lear.]

EDGAR.
When we see those above us dealing with our troubles,
We hardly consider our hardships to be enemies.
Whoever suffers alone, suffers the most in their mind,
Leaving behind free things and joyful sights:
But then the mind often skips over much suffering
When grief has companions and shares the burden.
How light and manageable my pain feels now,
When what makes me bend also makes the King bow;
He acted like a child just as I took on the role of a father! Tom, go away!
Pay attention to the loud sounds; and let yourself be revealed,
When false beliefs, whose wrong thoughts corrupt you,
In your rightful proof, reject and accept you.
What will happen more tonight, as long as the King is safe!
Hide, hide.

[Sign out.]

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund and Servants.

CORNWALL.
Quickly send this letter to my lord your husband: the French army has landed. Find the traitor Gloucester.

[Some of the servants exit.]

REGAN.
Hang him right now.

GONERIL.
Take out his eyes.

CORNWALL.
Leave him to my anger. Edmund, stay with our sister: the revenge we're about to take on your treacherous father isn't something you should see. Let the Duke know where you're headed; we need to prepare quickly. We’ll keep each other informed and up to date. Goodbye, dear sister, goodbye, my lord of Gloucester.

Enter Oswald.

What's up! Where's the King?

OSWALD.
My lord of Gloucester has taken him away:
About thirty-five or thirty-six of his knights,
Eagerly searching for him, met him at the gate;
Who, along with some of the lord’s followers,
Have gone with him toward Dover: where they claim
To have well-armed allies.

CORNWALL.
Get horses for your lady.

GONERIL.
Goodbye, dear lord and sister.

CORNWALL.
Edmund, goodbye.

[Exit Goneril, Edmund and Oswald.]

Go find the traitor Gloucester,
Catch him like a criminal, bring him to us.

[Other Servants exit.]

Though we might not judge his life fairly
Without a proper sense of justice, our anger
Will at least allow us to take some action that people
Can criticize, but can’t stop. Who’s there? The traitor?

Enter Gloucester and Servants.

REGAN.
Ungrateful fox! It’s him.

CORNWALL.
Tie up his corky arms.

GLOUCESTER.
What do you mean, your majesties?
My dear friends, remember that you are my guests.
Don't betray me, friends.

CORNWALL.
Tie him up, I say.

Servants tie him up.

REGAN.
Difficult, difficult. O filthy traitor!

GLOUCESTER.
You’re cold-hearted, but I’m not.

CORNWALL.
Tie him to this chair. You’ll see, villain—

[Regan pulls on his beard.]

GLOUCESTER.
By the kind gods, it's really low to pull me by the beard.

REGAN.
So pale, and such a backstabber!

GLOUCESTER.
Naughty lady,
These hairs you’re pulling from my chin
Will come back to haunt you. I’m your host:
You shouldn't mess with my hospitality like this. What are you going to do?

CORNWALL.
Come on, sir, what letters did you recently get from France?

REGAN.
Just give a straightforward answer, because we know the truth.

CORNWALL.
And what alliance do you have with the traitors,
Recently active in the kingdom?

REGAN.
Who did you give the crazy King to?
Tell me.

GLOUCESTER.
I have a letter that seems to be written down,
Which came from someone who is neutral,
And not from someone who is against us.

CORNWALL.
Sly.

REGAN.
And untrue.

CORNWALL.
Where have you sent the King?

GLOUCESTER.
To Dover.

REGAN.
Why are you going to Dover? Weren't you warned it was dangerous,—

CORNWALL.
Why go to Dover? Let him explain that first.

GLOUCESTER.
I'm tied to the stake, and I have to face what's coming.

Regan.
Why are we going to Dover, sir?

GLOUCESTER.
I couldn’t bear to see your cruel hands
Tear out his poor old eyes; nor your fierce sister
Sink her savage fangs into his anointed flesh.
The sea, with a storm as fierce as the hellish night
He endured, would have lifted him up
And extinguished those stars;
Yet, poor old heart, he helped the heavens to rain.
If wolves had howled at your gate during that harsh time,
You should have said, ‘Good porter, turn the key.’
All other cruelties accepted: but I will see
Divine vengeance catch up with such children.