King Lear Modern Translation: Act 1, Scene 1

The courtiers were gathered in the great hall of the royal palace. The Duke of Gloucester had welcomed the King of France and the Duke of Burgundy, who waited in a nearby apartment to be called in. They had come to woo the king's youngest daughter, Cordelia, and King Lear was about to announce his decision. The elderly Gloucester had brought his son, Edmund, and they were chatting to the Duke of Kent while they waited.

'I have always thought that the King prefers the Duke of Albany to the Duke of Cornwall,' Kent was saying.

'It always seemed so to us,' said Gloucester. 'But now, in dividing up his kingdom, it's not clear which of the dukes he values more. Their share of the kingdom is so well balanced that neither can be said to be preferred.'

'Is this your son, my lord?' said Kent, acknowledging the handsome young man, who stood quietly beside his father.

'I was responsible for his conception,' laughed Gloucester. 'I've been embarrassed to admit it so many times that I'm brazened to it now.'

Kent looked at the young man. 'I can't conceive of that,' he said.

Gloucester laughed. 'Sir this young fellow's mother could! Whereupon she got pregnant and, sir, had a son for her cradle before she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?'

'I can't wish the fault undone, the result of it being so handsome,' said Kent.

'But I have a legitimate son, sir, about a year older than this one, though I don't love him any more because of that. Although this rascal sprang so cheekily into the world before he was sent for, I have to admit that his mother was beautiful. We had great fun making him and the whoreson has to be acknowledged. Do you know this noble gentleman, Edmund?'

'No, my lord,' said Edmund.

Gloucester introduced him formally. 'My lord of Kent,' he said. 'Remember him from now on as my honourable friend.'

Edmund bowed. 'At your service, my lord,' he said.


Kent offered his hand. 'I have to honour you,' he said as they shook hands. 'And I'd like to get to know you.'

'Sir, I'll do my best to deserve that,' Edmund said.

'He's been abroad for nine years and he'll be off again soon,' said Gloucester. Then he looked round because the room had become silent. 'The King is coming,' he said.

Trumpeters announced the King's arrival with a flourish and in he came, followed by his daughters, Goneril, with her husband, the Duke of Albany: Regan and her husband, the Duke of Cornwall: and the youngest, Cordelia.

Lear was old and frail and his walk was unsteady as he passed the assembled courtiers and went to the throne. His daughters and their husbands took their places around him. A long table with a map of the kingdom on it had been prepared for this occasion.

Lear nodded at Gloucester. 'Fetch the Lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester,' he said.

Gloucester bowed. 'I shall, my liege,' and he went out to where the visiting princes waited.

'Meanwhile, we'll explain our deeper purpose,' said Lear. 'Give me that map there.'

Servants lifted the table and brought it closer to him.

Lear addressed the court: 'You should know that we have divided our kingdom into three,' he began. 'And it is our express intention to shake off all cares and responsibilities from our old age and give them to younger strengths, while we crawl unburdened toward death. Our son of Cornwall, and you, our no less loving son of Albany, we have decided to make public our daughters' various dowries so that future strife can be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, great rivals for our youngest daughter's love, have been at our court as suitors for a long time, and are going to have their answers here today.' He turned his head to where his daughters sat. 'Tell me, my daughters - since we will now shed our throne, our lands, and the cares of responsibility - which of you shall we say, does love us most? So that we may extend out greatest generosity where natural affection most clearly lies. Goneril, our eldest child, speak first.'

Goneril stood up. She went to her father and kissed him. Then she half turned and spoke, both to him and to the court. 'Sir, I love you more than words can express. Dearer than eye-sight, space and freedom. Beyond what can be valued rich or rare: no less than life itself, with all its grace, health, beauty and honour, as much as a child ever loved or father ever enjoyed. A love that takes the breath away and renders speech inadequate. Beyond everything, I love you.'

Cordelia watched with concern. What was she going to say when her turn came? Just love and be silent was all she could do.


Lear raised his hand and held it above the map. Goneril went closer to the table. 'All of these lands, all the way from this line to that,' he said, moving his hand over the map, 'with its shady forests, fertile fields, all its rivers and wide meadows, we make you lady of. This is your and Albany's descendents' forever.' He smiled as she kissed him and returned to her seat. He beamed at Regan. 'What does our second daughter, our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall, say? Speak.'

Regan rose. She, too, went over to her father and kissed him. Then, also addressing the court, she began: 'I am made of the same metal as my sister and value myself at her worth. I find that she has articulated the feelings of love that come from the depths of my own heart. I find, however, that she doesn't go far enough in that I profess myself unable to take any pleasure in whatever the senses can offer and find that I get pleasure only from the enjoyment of your dear Highness' love.'

Cordelia knew she wouldn't be able to say the things her sisters had. She felt sorry for herself for a moment but then she pulled herself together: she was sure her love ran deeper than her tongue could express. 'To you and yours forever,' Lear was saying, 'is this extensive third of our beautiful kingdom, no less in size, no less valuable, no less pleasant than that conferred on Goneril.' He looked up, straight into Cordelia's eyes. He smiled. 'Now, our joy: although our last born, not our least: for whose young love the vineyards of France and the milk of Burgundy compete. What can you say to attract a third more valuable than your sisters? Speak.'

Cordelia stood up. All eyes were on her.

'Nothing, my lord,' she said.

Lear stared at her, puzzled. 'Nothing?'

'Nothing.'

Lear's eyes widened. His voice was slightly raised as he tried to control his growing anger. 'Nothing will come of nothing. Speak again.'

'Unhappy as I am, I can't express in words the things that are in my heart. I love your Majesty according to my duty as a daughter. No more, no less.'

Lear half rose. His other two daughters rushed to support him, helping him to his feet, where he stood, glaring at Cordelia. 'What, what, Cordelia? Mend your speech a little or it might spoil your fortunes!'

'My dear lord,' she said, 'You have conceived me, brought me up and loved me. I return those duties accordingly - obey you, love you, and honour you entirely. Why do my sisters have husbands if they say they love you exclusively? If it happens that I should marry, that man who has my hand in marriage will have half my love, half my care and duty. Certainly, I'll never marry like my sisters to love my father totally.'

'Is this from your heart?' said Lear.

'Yes, my dear lord.'

'So young and so hard-hearted?'

'So young, my lord, and honest.'


'So be it,' he said curtly. 'Let your honesty be your dowry. By the sacred beams of the sun: the mysteries of Hecate and the night: by all the workings of the planets that govern our lives and deaths, I here disclaim my parental love, my kinship and blood relationship, and regard you as a stranger to my heart and to me forever. The barbarous Scythian, or those who eat their offspring to satisfy their appetites, will be as well received, pitied and given comfort as you, my sometime daughter.'

Kent went forward. 'My liege,' he said.

'Silence, Kent!' Lear's eyes were burning. His face was red. 'Don't come between the dragon and his wrath! I loved her the most and planned to spend my retirement in her loving care. Get out of my sight! So my grave will be my only peace as I hereby separate her from her father's heart. Call the king of France. No-one stirs? Call Burgundy! Cornwall and Albany, add this third to my two daughters' dowries.' He pointed to Cordelia's portion on the map. 'Let pride, which she calls frankness, find her a husband. I invest you jointly with my power, authority and all the trappings of majesty. Ourself will live with each of you in alternate months, attended by a hundred knights, maintained at your expense. We'll retain only the name and all the respect that's due to a king. The influence, taxation and all the other administrative matters, beloved sons, will be yours. To confirm that, this coronet is divided between you.'

An official presented a coronet on a purple cushion. Kent ignored the ceremony and tried again. 'Royal Lear, whom I've always honoured as my king, loved as my father, followed as my master, mentioned in my prayers as my great patron.'

'The bow is bent and drawn,' interrupted Lear. 'Get out of the way of the arrow.'

'Let it loose, rather,' said Kent, 'even if it pierces my heart. Kent has to be impolite when Lear is mad. What do you think you're doing, old man? Do you really think that duty will be afraid to speak out when power falls for flattery? Honour demands straight talk when royalty stoops to folly. Keep hold of your kingdom and rethink it rationally: put a stop to this appalling recklessness. I'll stake my life on it: your youngest daughter doesn't love you least, nor are those whose simple expression makes no hollow echoes empty hearted.'

Lear's breathing was alarmingly laboured as his anger seemed to overwhelm him. 'Kent! On your life! No more!'

'I've never thought of my life as anything more than a poor pawn to be used against your enemies: nor do I fear to lose it in the interests of your safety.'

'Out of my sight!'

'See better, Lear,' Kent said , 'and let me be, as I always have been, watchful on your behalf.'

The old king looked as though he was going to explode. 'Now, by Apollo..'

'Now, by Apollo, King.' Kent shook his head. 'You invoke your gods in vain.'

'Oh you slave! Criminal!' Lear's hand went to the hilt of his sword and his two sons-in law sprang up in alarm, with expressions of concern.

'That's right,' said Kent. 'Kill your doctor and give the fee to the foul disease. Withdraw your gift or while I still have enough breath to speak I'll insist that you're doing the wrong thing.'


'Hear me, traitor,' said Lear. 'On your oath of allegiance, hear me! Since you have tried to make us break our vow, which we have never dared to do before, and because you have, with great arrogance, tried to come between our sentence and our power to make it, which we cannot tolerate, either personally or officially, to confirm our power, take your reward. We give you five days to make your plans to shield yourself from the harshness of the world, and on the sixth, to turn your hated back on our kingdom. If on the tenth day following that, your banished presence is found in our dominions, that moment is your death. Away! By Jupiter, this will not be revoked!'

Kent bowed. 'Farewell, King. If that's what you want, freedom lives elsewhere and banishment is here.' He bowed to Cordelia. 'May the gods shelter you, young woman. Your thinking is right and you've spoken the truth.' He turned and looked at Goneril and Regan. 'May your actions live up to your fine speeches so that some good may come from your words of love.' He bowed to the courtiers. 'And so, oh princes, Kent bids you all adieu. He'll continue to be his old self in a new country.' He walked through the shocked silent ranks of noblemen and left the great hall.

Everyone stood, awestruck, as the king returned to his seat and glowered at them all. A flourish of trumpets pierced the silence and Gloucester, accompanied by the two visiting princes, entered.

'Here are France and Burgundy, my noble lord,' said Gloucester.

The young princes took up their place and waited for the king's verdict as to which one should have his beautiful daughter.

'My Lord of Burgundy,' Lear began , 'we address you, who have competed against this king for our daughter, first. What is the minimum you will accept as a dowry before withdrawing your suit?'

'Most royal Majesty,' said Burgundy, 'I want no more than your Highness has offered. I know you won't offer less.'

'Right noble Burgundy,' replied Lear, 'when she was dear to us we considered her valuable, but now her price has fallen. Sir, there she stands. If anything about that seemingly unremarkable object, or all of it, together with our displeasure, appeals to your Grace, she's there, and she is yours.'

'I'm speechless,' said Burgundy.

'Will you, with all her imperfections - friendless, newly disowned by us, our curse for a dowry, and estranged with our oath - take her or leave her?'

'Pardon me, royal Sir,' said Burgundy, 'decisions aren't made in such conditions.'

'Then leave her, sir, because I'm telling you in the name of the God who made me, that's all her wealth.'

Burgundy stared at Lear, then at Cordelia then at Lear again. He shook his head slowly. Lear turned to France.

'As for you, great king,' he said, 'I wouldn't distance myself from your friendship by making such a mistake as to marry you to someone I hate. I therefore beg you to redirect your liking to something more worthy than a wretch who Nature is almost ashamed to acknowledge hers.'

'It's very strange,' said France, 'that she who just a moment ago, was your most precious possession, the subject of your praise,comfort of your old age - the best, the dearest - should, in a trice, do something so monstrous as to destroy so many levels of affection. It's clear that her offence must either be so terribly unnatural as to make a monster of her or your former declarations of love for her are suspect. To believe that of her would take a miracle that I can't imagine.'


Cordelia approached her father and knelt before him. 'I would only ask your Majesty,' she said, 'as I lack the glib and oily art of saying things I don't mean, favouring deeds before words, that you state publicly that it isn't some vicious behaviour - no murder or nastiness, no unchaste act - that has deprived me of your grace and favour. Rather, it's for lacking something that I'm all the richer for being without - an eye always alert for favours and the kind of tongue I'm glad I don't have, though not having it has lost me your affection.'

'Better you had never been born than not to have pleased me better,' said Lear.

'Is that all it is?' said France. 'A natural reticence that often stops one from speaking one's thoughts? My Lord of Burgundy, what do you say to the lady? Love isn't love when it's confused with considerations that have nothing to do with it. Will you have her? She is a dowry in herself.'

Burgundy stroked his beard. 'Royal King,' he said, addressing Lear. 'Just give me what you yourself proposed and I'll take Cordelia by the hand - Duchess of Burgundy.'

'Nothing,' said Lear. 'I have sworn. I am firm.'

Cordelia stood up and went back to her place. She waited for Burgundy's response.

'I'm sorry, then,' he said. 'As you've lost a father in this way, you must also lose a husband.'

She nodded. 'Don't worry about it, Burgundy,' she said. 'Since you're in love with respectability and wealth, I won't be your wife.'

France stepped forward. 'Fairest Cordelia,' he said, ' rich in being poor: most wanted in being forsaken, and most loved being despised. I hereby take you and your virtues for myself. If it's lawful I will take up what's been cast away. Ye gods, it's ironic that my love should be fired up by their coldest indifference. Your dowerless daughter, King, thrown my way by chance, is queen of me, of all I have and of fair France. Not all the dukes of insipid Burgundy could buy this underpriced but priceless virgin from me. Bid them farewell, Cordelia, cruel as they are. You lose here, to find better elsewhere.'

Lear was glaring at them. 'You have her, France. She's yours, because we have no such daughter, nor shall we ever see that face of hers again: so be gone, without our goodwill, our friendship or our blessing.' He rose shakily. 'Come, noble Burgundy.'

He led the procession of courtiers, including Cornwall, Albany and Gloucester, leaving Goneril and Regan, staring after them.

'Say goodbye to your sisters,' said France.

Cordelia faced them. 'Treasures of our father,' she said, 'Cordelia leaves you in tears. I know you for what you are, but because I'm your sister I'm reluctant to call a spade a spade. Love our father well. I commit him to your professed hearts. Alas, if I were still in favour with him I wouldn't allow him near you. So farewell to you both.'

'Don't tell us what our duty is,' said Regan.

'You concentrate on pleasing your husband, who has taken you in as a beggar,' said Goneril. 'You have been disobedient and fully deserve what's happened to you.'

'Time will reveal what cunning deceit hides,' said Cordelia. 'Those who conceal evil are eventually exposed. Good luck to you.'

'Come my beautiful Cordelia,' said France, and he led her away.

Goneril and Regan turned away. 'Sister,' said Goneril. I need to talk to you about something that concerns us both. I think our father intends to leave tonight.'

'That's certain,' said Regan, 'and with you. Next month he'll come to us.'

'Look at how unstable he's become in his old age,' said Goneril. 'We're seeing examples of it all the time. He always loved our sister most. The poor judgment he's shown in casting her off shows it all too clearly.'

'It's his age,' said Regan 'But then he's never been able to control himself.'

Goneril nodded. 'Even when he was at his best he was rash. So we can expect to see the effects, not only of his naturally unstable condition, but also the disorganised eccentricity that comes with feeble and bad-tempered old age.'

'We're likely to get more erratic incidents from him like Kent's banishment,' said Regan.

'And look at the way he dismissed France,' said Goneril. 'I suggest we join forces. If our father is going to carry authority in the way he has been doing, this latest abdication will just be a problem for us.'

'We'll have to give it some thought.'

'We must do something,' said Goneril, 'And immediately.'

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 1, Scene 2

Edmund paced the floor of the great hall in his father’s castle. He held a letter, which he had written himself, copying his brother’s handwriting and signature. He was harbouring some very strong feelings as he paced. He went and stood before the huge mirror that dominated one end of the hall. He nodded. Nature was his guide and it was her laws he followed. Why should he have to put up with the stupidity of convention and let the idiosyncrasies of an old fashioned society deprive him of his rights, just because he was some twelve or fourteen months younger than his brother? Why should he have to carry the stigma of “bastard”: why should he accept that he was inferior? He half turned and looked at himself in the mirror. His body was as compact, his mind as intelligent, and his figure as good as the son of his father’s legal wife was. Why did they brand people like him with the word “inferior”? With inferiority? Bastardy? Inferior, inferior? — They had stronger constitutions and were more red–blooded as a result of the lust and passion that accompanied their conception than a whole tribe of fops conceived between bedtime and morning in a boring, tedious matrimonial bed had.

So, legitimate Edgar. He would have his brother’s inheritance. Their father loved the bastard Edmund as much as the legitimate Edgar. Fine word, “legitimate”! Well then, legitimate brother, if this letter proved effective and his plot succeeded, Edmund the bastard was going to oust the legitimate. He raised his arm and made a fist in the mirror. Grow! Prosper! Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

The Duke of Gloucester walked into the hall, talking to himself. He was shaking his head and tutting: ‘Kent banished like that!’ he said. ‘And France departed in anger! And the king gone tonight, his power reduced to ceremony. All done on the spur of the moment!’ He looked up and saw his son. ‘Edmund! Hello. What news?’

Edmund flashed the letter so that his father should see it then made a show of slipping it hastily into his pocket. ‘May it please your lordship, none,’ he said.

Gloucester pointed to his son’s pocket. ‘Then why are you trying so hard to hide that letter?’

‘I have no news, my lord.’

‘What was that you were reading?’

‘Nothing, my lord.’


‘No? Then why the great hurry to shove it in your pocket? Something that’s nothing has no need to hide itself. Let’s see it. Come: if it’s nothing I won’t need spectacles.’

‘I beg of you, sir, excuse me. It’s a letter from my brother that I haven’t finished reading, and from what I’ve seen so far I don’t think it’s fit for your eyes.’

Gloucester put his hand out. ‘Give me the letter, sir.’

Edmund frowned. ‘I’ll offend you either to give it to you or withhold it. The contents, as far as I can follow them, are offensive.’ He half extracted the letter then stopped.

‘Let’s see, let’s see!’ Gloucester snatched it.

Edmund stepped back. ‘To be fair to my brother, I hope that he wrote this to test my loyalty.’

Gloucester had put his glasses on. He opened the letter and read aloud. ‘This custom of revering old men leaves a bitter taste in the mouths of young men. It keeps our fortunes from us till we’re too old to enjoy them. I’m beginning to find it’s a useless and stupid slavery to be controlled by an old tyrant who rules, not because he’s powerful, but because we’re willing to put up with it. Come to me so that I can explain it further. If our father would sleep till I awakened him you would enjoy half his wealth forever and live to be beloved of your brother. Edgar.’

Gloucester looked up at Edmund. His features expressed enormous conflict. ‘Hmm!’ he exclaimed. ‘Conspiracy? “Sleep till I awakened him you would enjoy half his wealth?” My son Edgar! Could he have done this? Has he got the heart and mind to instigate it? When did you get this? Who brought it to you?’

‘It wasn’t brought to me, my lord. That’s the cunning of it. It was thrown in through the window of my room.’

‘Are you sure this is your brother’s handwriting?’

Edmund appeared to choose his words carefully: ‘If the contents were good, my lord, I would dare swear it was his, but in respect of those contents I’d like to think it isn’t.’

Gloucester studied the letter. He nodded. ‘It is his,’ he said.

‘It is his hand, my lord, but I hope his heart isn’t in the contents.’

‘Has he ever sounded you out in this business before?’

‘Never, my lord,’ said Edmund. ‘But I’ve often heard him maintain that it would be more suitable for sons, on reaching maturity, and fathers fallen into decline, the father should be in the custody of the son and the son should manage his affairs.’

‘Oh villain, villain!’ Gloucester shook the letter. ‘That’s exactly what he says in here. Despicable villain! Unnatural, unspeakable, brutish villain! Worse than an animal! Go, sirrah, look for him. I’ll arrest him. Abominable villain. Where is he?’


‘I’m not sure, sir. If you could manage to contain your indignation against my brother till you can get a better picture of his intentions, it would be better because if you’re mistaken and over–react it would greatly damage your honour and shake his loyalty to the core. I’d stake my life on his loyalty: I think he’s written this to test my affection for your honour, and without any harmful intention.’

Gloucester’s eyes appealed desperately to his son: ‘Do you think so?’

‘If your honour thinks it appropriate, I will place you where you can hear us discuss this and by hearing for yourself, settle it in your mind, and we can do this without any further delay — this evening.’

‘He can’t be such a monster…’ said Gloucester.

Edmund put his arm around his father’s shoulders. I’m sure he isn’t.’

There were tears in Goucester’s eyes as he accepted his son’s embrace. ‘…to his own father, who loves him so tenderly and entirely. Heaven and earth!’ He clenched his fist. ‘Edmund, find him. Let me hear this. You decide how to do it. I’d give everything I have to be assured of his innocence.’

‘I’ll look for him straight away, sir, do my best to arrange things, and keep you fully informed.’

Gloucester shook his head vigorously. ‘These recent eclipses of the sun and moon don’t bode well for us,’ he said, ‘though wise men can explain it away as this or that, nevertheless we still have to suffer the consequences. Love cools, friendship dwindles, brothers are divided — riots in cities, civil wars in countries, treason in palaces and the bond between father and son broken. This villain of mine falls into that mould — son against father. The king goes against his own nature: there’s father against child. Our best years are behind us. Plots, hypocrisy, treachery and chaos follow us distressingly to our graves. Investigate this villain, Edmund — you won’t lose anything by it — do it discreetly. And the noble and loyal Kent banished! His offence, honesty! It’s strange.’ He patted Edmund’s back and stumbled away, shaking his head. Edmund knew where his brother was and he made his way there. What his father had been saying was typical of the stupidity of the people around him: that when something bad happened, often as a result of our own extravagant behaviour, we blame it on the sun, the moon, the stars, as though we can’t help being villains — fools because heaven has commanded us to be fools: knaves, thieves and traitors because of the position of the spheres at our birth: forced to be drunkards, liars and adulterers by the stars, and all the evil in us thrust on us by divine intervention. What a wonderful evasion by a lecher to blame his goat–like disposition on a star! His father mated with his mother under the Dragon’s tail and he was born under the influence of Ursa Major, so it followed that he was rough and lecherous! Rubbish! He would have been exactly the same if the most chaste star in the firmament had twinkled over his bastardy!

And here was his brother, where he knew he would be — as predictable as the ending of a familiar comedy. Edmund’s role was to affect a deep melancholy, with a sigh like that of a Tom of Bedlam — a lunatic beggar. He sighed deeply, and looking very sad, exclaimed: ‘Oh, these eclipses are predicting terrible disorder!’

‘Hello, brother Edmund!’ said Edgar. ‘What deep thoughts are bothering you?’

‘I’m thinking, brother, about a prediction I read the other day concerning what’s going to happen as a result of these eclipses.’


‘Are you really spending your time thinking about such things?’

‘I promise you,’ said Edmund, ‘the consequences he writes about are unpleasant, such as unnaturalness between child and parent: death, famine, and the end of old friendships: civil wars: threats and ill will towards king and noblemen: unnecessary suspicions, banishment of friends, desertion of soldiers, marriage breakups, and I don’t know what else.’

Edgar looked uncomprehendingly at his brother, then he laughed. ‘Since when have you been a student of Astrology?’

‘When did you last see my father?’ said Edmund, not responding to his brother’s light manner.

‘Last night.’ Edgar raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

‘Did you speak to him?’

‘Yes, for a full two hours.’

‘Did you part on friendly terms? Was there anything about the way he spoke or looked to suggest displeasure?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘Try and think how you may have offended him and, I beg you, avoid him until his anger has subsided because at the moment his fury is such that if he sees you it will hardly cool down.’

‘Some villain has done me wrong,’ said Edgar.

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ said Edmund. ‘I beg you to keep your distance until he’s calmed down. And, as I say, come back with me to my lodgings and then, when the time is right, I’ll take you to where you can overhear what my lord says. Please, go. Here’s my key. And if you do go out, go armed.’

‘Armed brother?’

‘Brother, I’m giving you the best advice,’ said Edmund. ‘If there’s any good will towards you I’m no honest man. I’ve told you what I’ve seen and heard, but I’ve played it down — nothing like the real horror of it. Please, go now.’

‘Will I hear from you soon?’

‘I’m on your side in this business,’ said Edmund.

He watched his brother’s back. He sneered: a gullible father and a noble brother, whose nature was so far from evil that he doesn’t suspect it in others. Edmund would be able to ride easily on his brother’s foolish honesty. It was a very simple matter: if he couldn’t have property through inheritance he would have it by using his intelligence. As far as he was concerned anything that suited his purposes was appropriate.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 1, Scene 3

Goneril’s steward, Oswald, was complaining to his lady about her father’s behaviour. The King had been staying with Goneril for some months and he was really getting on her nerves.

She looked at her steward in astonishment. ‘Did my father actually hit my gentleman for rebuking his fool?’ she said.

‘Yes madam.’

She sighed loudly. ‘He offends me night and day ,’ she snapped. ‘Not an hour goes by without him committing some annoying offence or other that upsets us all. I won’t tolerate it. His knights are getting riotous and he himself complains about every little thing. When he gets back from hunting I won’t talk to him. Tell him I’m sick. If you’re less respectful than you have been till now it will be alright. I’ll take the responsibility for it.’

There was the sound of horns and barking dogs. ‘He’s coming madam: I can hear him,’ said Oswald.

‘Be as offhand with him as you like,’ she said, ‘both you and your fellow servants. I want to bring it to a head. If he doesn’t like it let him go to my sister. I know that she and I are in agreement that we’re not going to give in. Silly old man, still wanting to hang on to those powers that he’s given away! I do declare, old fools are babies again and have to be put right when they are wrong. Don’t forget what I said.’

‘I won’t madam.’

‘Be frosty towards his knights, all of you. Don’t worry about the consequences. Tell your fellow servants to do that. I want to use that to bring matters to a head, and I’m going to so that I’ll have an excuse to speak out. I’ll write to my sister to do the same. Go and prepare for dinner.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 1, Scene 4

Ignoring his banishment, Kent had disguised himself as a working man and was waiting, now, in the yard outside the King’s quarters at the Duke of Albany’s palace. The King and his knights were returning from their hunt and entering the yard. If he could assume a different accent as well, and so change his voice, he may just be able to pull off the scheme he’d disguised himself for. Well now, Kent, he told himself, if you can serve the one who’s condemned you it may happen that your master, whom you love, will find that you’re a loyal servant.

Two knights were helping the King to dismount. He stood, breathless for a moment, then barked at a servant: ‘Don’t keep me waiting a jot for dinner. Go and get it ready!’

The servant ran off and Lear began walking slowly to the door. Kent got in his way, standing right in front of him. Lear stopped.

‘Well now! Who are you?’ he said.

‘A man, sir.’ Kent sounded like the working man he appeared to be.

‘What are you claiming? What do you want from us?’

‘I claim to be nothing other than I appear to be,’ said Kent. ‘To serve any man loyally who’ll put his trust in me, to love him who is honest, to converse with him who is wise and says little, to fight when I have no alternative, and to eat no fish.’

‘What are you?’

‘An honest–hearted fellow, and as poor as the king.’

Lear laughed. ‘If you are as poor as a subject as he is as a king, that’s quite poor. What do you want?’

‘A job.’

‘With whom?’


‘You.’

‘Do you know me, my man?’

‘No, sir, but there’s something about you that makes me want to call you master.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Authority.’

Lear nodded. ‘What services can you offer?’

‘I can keep your secrets, ride, run, ruin a good joke in telling it, and deliver a plain message bluntly. I’m good at those things that ordinary men are fit for: and my best quality is diligence.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Not so young, sir, as to love a woman for singing, nor so old as to dote on her for anything. I’m forty–eight.’

Lear motioned him aside. ‘Follow me: you can be my servant. If I like you no less after dinner I won’t let you go yet. Hey! Dinner! Dinner! Where’s my page? My fool?’ He snapped his fingers at the page, who had come running to him. ‘Go and get my fool.’

The table was set and the knights were standing behind their chairs. Lear made his way to the top of the table. The steward, Oswald, who had been supervising the servants, was walking towards the door. Lear whistled.

‘Hey, you! You, sirrah. Where’s my daughter?’ He grabbed Oswald’s sleeve.

Oswald looked down his arm at the king’s hand. ‘If you don’t mind,’ he said. He pulled himself free and continued walking towards the door.

Lear watched him, open–mouthed. Then, ‘What did the fellow just say?’ He indicated a knight. ‘Call the clodpole back. ‘

The knight hurried after Oswald.

‘Where’s my fool huh?, said Lear. ‘ I think the world’s asleep.’ The knight who had gone after Oswald came back. ‘Well?’ demanded Lear. ‘Where’s that mongrel?’

‘He says, my lord, your daughter is not well.’

Lear’s face was red. ‘Why didn’t the slave come back to me when I called him?’

‘Sir,: said the knight, ‘he answered me in the rudest manner that he wouldn’t.’


‘He wouldn’t!’

‘My lord,’ said the knight, ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but in my opinion your Highness isn’t being treated with the same respectful ceremony you’re used to. There’s a distinct cooling off among the servants as well as in the duke himself and your daughter.’

‘Ha! Is that so?’

‘I beg you to excuse me, my lord, if I’m mistaken. My duty won’t allow me to be silent when I think your Highness is being wronged.’

Lear shook his head. ‘You’re only confirming my own observation. I’ve seen a hint of neglect lately. I’ve put it down to my own sensitivity rather than an actual intention to be discourteous. I’ll carry on observing. But where’s my fool? I haven’t seen him for two days.’

‘Since my young lady went to France, sir, the fool has been pining away,’ said the knight.

‘Enough of that,’ said Lear. ‘I’m very aware of it.’ He called to an attendant. ‘Go and tell my daughter I want to talk to her.’ He snapped his fingers at another attendant. ‘You! Go and bring my fool here.’

The attendants left, more slowly than usual. Oswald appeared in the doorway.

‘Oh, you, sir,’ called Lear.

Oswald looked at him with his eyebrows raised.

‘You,’ said Lear. ‘Come here, sir!’

Oswald strolled over and stood facing him, his arms folded.

‘Who am I, sir?’ said Lear.

‘My lady’s father,’ said Oswald.

‘My lady’s father!’ Rage welled up in Lear. ‘My lord’s knave! You whoreson dog! You slave! You mongrel!’
Oswald smiled. ‘I’m none of those things, my lord, if you don’t mind.’ He looked Lear straight in the eyes.
Lear advanced. ‘Are you bandying looks with me, you rascal?’ He struck the steward across the face with the back of his hand.

‘I won’t be struck, my lord,’ said Oswald.

Kent had been standing close to the king and he stretched out his foot and tripped Oswald up as he turned to go. ‘Or tripped either you unutterable oaf,’ he said, as Oswald fell to the floor.

‘I thank you, fellow,’ said Lear. ‘You can be my servant: I’ll look after you.’


‘Come on, sir, get up and go!’ said Kent. He took hold of Oswald’s wrist and pulled him to his feet. ‘I’ll show you what’s what! Off you go, off you go! If you want to be stretched out on your back again, stay. But go.’ Oswald stared at him. ‘Haven’t you got any sense?’ roared Kent. He raised his arm and Oswald took off. ‘That’s the way!’ Kent called after him.

‘Now, my friendly fellow,’ said Lear. ‘Thank you.’ He handed Kent a coin. ‘Here’s something for you.’

Lear’s fool, dressed in motley, was coming towards them. He had seen the whole thing.

‘Let me hire him too,’ he said. He took his jester’s cap off and offered it to Kent. ‘Here’s my coxcomb.’

‘Hello, my pretty knave,’ said Lear. ‘How are you?’

The fool ignored him. ‘Sir, you had better take my coxcomb,’ he told Kent.

‘Why, Fool?’

‘Why? For taking the side of someone who’s out of favour. No, if you can’t go the way the wind is blowing you’ll catch a cold instead. So here: take my coxcomb.’ He indicated Lear with a movement of his head. ‘Why, this fellow has banished two of his daughters and unintentionally blessed the third. If you work for him you’ll need to wear my coxcomb. Hello Nuncle. I wish I had two coxcombs and two daughters.’

‘Why my boy?’ said Lear.

‘If I gave them everything I had I’d keep my coxcombs for myself. Here’s mine. Beg your daughters for another.’

Lear was only half joking when he responded: ‘Watch out, sirrah, the whip.’

‘The truth is a dog that’s sent to his kennel,’ said the fool. ‘He’s whipped. Whereas flattery, the mongrel bitch, is allowed to stand, stinking, in front of the fire.’

‘It’s unbearable,’ muttered Lear.

‘Sir, I’ll tell you something,’ said the fool.

‘Do.’


‘Listen carefully, Nuncle:
Have more than you show,
Speak less than you know,
Lend less than you owe,
Ride more than you go,
Learn more than that you’re told,
Give less than you hold,
Give up drink and your whores
And stay more indoors,
And you will have more
Than two tens to a score.’

‘This is nothing, Fool,’ said Lear.

‘Then it’s like the worthless advice of an unpayed lawyer: you get it for nothing. Can’t you make use of nothing, Nuncle?’

‘Why no, boy. Nothing can be made out of nothing.’

The fool turned to Kent. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Tell him. That’s how much his income amounts to. He won’t believe a fool.’

‘A bitter fool!’ exclaimed Lear.

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

‘No lad.’ Lear laughed indulgently. ‘You tell me.’

The fool bowed:
‘Whoever counselled thee
To give away your land
Come place him here by me
And you for him there stand:
The sweet and bitter fool
Will instantly appear,
The one in motley here,
The other standing there!’ He pointed at Lear.

‘Are you calling me a fool, boy?’ said Lear.

The fool nodded sadly. ‘You’ve given all your other titles away. You were born with that one.’

‘He’s not a complete fool, my lord,’ said Kent.

‘No, indeed,’ agreed the fool. ‘Lords and great men won’t let me be. If I had the monopoly on folly they would want their share of my profits. And ladies, too — they wouldn’t let me have all the folly for myself: they’d be snatching. Nuncle, give me an egg and I’ll give you two crowns.’

‘And what two crowns would they be?’ said Lear.


‘Well. After I’ve cut the egg in half and eaten the yolk, the two eggshells. When you chopped your crown in the middle and gave both halves away you carried your donkey over the mud on your back like in the saying. You had very little brain in your bald crown when you gave your golden one away. If I’m speaking like one with my title whip the man who discovers that.
Fools haven’t had it so bad in a year
Because wise men have turned foolish:
So they don’t know how their skills to wear
When wise men’s are so mulish.’

‘Since when have you been so full of songs, sirrah?’ said Lear.

‘I’ve become used to it, Nuncle, ever since you made your daughters your mothers: when you gave them a cane and pulled down your own trousers.
Then they for sudden joy did weep,
And I for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo–peep,
And go the fools among.

Please, Nuncle, employ a schoolmaster to teach your fool how to lie. I’d like to learn how to lie.’

‘If you lie, sirrah, we’ll have you whipped!’

‘I’m amazed that you and your daughters are related,’ said the fool. ‘They’ll have me whipped for speaking the truth — you’d have me whipped for lying, and sometimes I’m whipped for holding my tongue. I’d rather be anything than a fool. And yet I wouldn’t want to be you, Nuncle. You have pared your brain on both sides and left nothing in the middle. Here comes one of the parings,’ he said as Goneril approached.

‘Hello daughter,’ said Lear. ‘What’s that expression for? You’ve been frowning too much lately.’

The fool got between them. ‘You were a fortunate fellow when you didn’t have to care about her frowning. Now you’re a zero without a number. I’m superior to you now: I’m a fool: you are nothing.’

Goneril was giving the fool dark looks, her frown deepening.

‘Yes, indeed,’ he said. ‘I’ll hold my tongue: that’s what your face is telling me to do, although you’re not saying it.
Shh, shh
He that keeps nor crust nor crumb
Weary of all, shall want some’

He pointed to Lear. ‘He’s a shelled pea–pod.’ Seeing Goneril’s face becoming even darker he placed his finger across his lips and ran and hid behind his master.

Goneril drew herself up and faced her father square on. ‘It’s not only, sir, your outspoken fool, but others among your insolent retinue, who are quarreling and bickering all the time, and breaking out into grotesque and intolerable rioting. Sir, I had thought that by drawing your attention to it we would be able to sort it out, but now I’m beginning to fear that, by what you yourself have been saying and doing, you are allowing this behaviour and even encouraging it. If that’s so you couldn’t expect to escape censure: nor would repercussions be slow in coming, in the interests us all. That would be embarrassing in other circumstances , but they would have to come.’

The fool peeped out from behind Lear. ‘Because you know, Nuncle:
The hedge–sparrow fed the cuckoo so long
That it had its head bit off by its young.
So out went the candle and we were in darkness.’

Lear glared at Goneril. ‘Are you our daughter?’ he said.

Goneril tossed her head. ‘I wish you would use your common sense, which I know you have, and that you’d abandon these temperamental moods which have begun to change your personality.’

The fool came out from behind Lear and crouched between father and daughter. ‘Perhaps a fool can tell when the cart draws the horse,’ he said. ‘Gee–up, Jug, I love you!’

Lear looked around desperately at the silent assembly. ‘Does anyone here know me?’ he said. ‘This isn’t Lear. Does Lear walk like this? Speak like this? Where are his eyes? Either he’s losing his mind or his senses are dulled. What? Awake? It can’t be. Is there anyone here who can tell me who I am?’

The fool put his hand up. ‘Lear’s shadow,’ he said.

‘I want to know,’ said Lear, ignoring the fool. ‘Because on the evidence of my sanity, knowledge and reason I would swear I had daughters.’

‘Who are determined to make an obedient father of you,’ said the fool.

Lear bowed his head to Goneril in mock courtesy. ‘Your name, fair gentlewoman?’ he said.

Goneril wasn’t amused, merely irritated. ‘These histrionics, sir, are very much like your other new antics,’ she said. ‘I would like you to understand me clearly. You are old and respected so you should be wise. You’re retaining a hundred knights and squires here: such disorderly men, so debauched and disrespectful, that this court resembles a rowdy inn because of their behaviour: their eating, drinking and whoring makes it more like a tavern or a brothel than a respectable palace. It’s shameful and requires an immediate solution. So allow yourself to be requested by one who will otherwise just take the thing she requests — to reduce the size of your following a little and keep, as your remaining following, men more suited to your age, who can behave better and make sure that you do too.’

Lear couldn’t contain himself. ‘Hell and devils!’ he exclaimed. ‘Saddle my horses! ‘Get my troop together!’ He turned back to Goneril. ‘You degenerate bastard!’ he said. ‘I won’t trouble you. I still have another daughter left.’

‘You hit my people,’ said Goneril, ‘and your disorderly rabble make servants of their betters.’

The Duke of Albany came in and walked towards them.

‘God help him who repents too late,’ Lear was saying. He saw Albany. ‘Oh sir,’ he said. ‘So you’re here, are you? Is this your doing? Tell me, sir?’ Tears streamed down his cheeks. ‘Prepare my horses,’ he instructed his servants. ‘Oh, ingratitude! You marble–hearted fiend! More hideous when you show yourself in a child than in any sea monster!’

Albany was confused and concerned. He took Lear’s arm. ‘Really, sir,’ he said, ‘calm down.’

Lear shook himself free. He turned on Goneril. ‘Horrible vulture, you’re lying! My followers are men of great distinction, who know their duty well and jealously guard their reputation. Oh how such a small defect showed itself so hugely in Cordelia! It wrenched my whole being apart as though it had been on a rack, drew all the love from my heart and replaced it with bitterness.’ He pounded his head with his fist. ‘Oh Lear, Lear, Lear! Beat at this gate that let your folly in and your judgment out.’ He turned and faced the watching knights. ‘Go, go, my people.’

Albany put his hand up to stop them as they began to leave. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I am as innocent as I am ignorant of what has upset you.’

‘That may be true, my lord,’ said Lear. He turned back to Goneril. ‘Hear, Nature, hear!’ he exclaimed. ‘Dear goddess, hear! Change you mind if you had intended to make this creature fruitful. Make her sterile! Dry up her womb and never let a baby spring from her hateful body to honour her. If she must spawn, make her child malicious so that it will live to be a nasty and cruel torment to her. Let it stamp wrinkles in her young brow, cut channels in her cheeks with constant tears and turn all her maternal concern and care into mockery and contempt, so that she may feel how sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child! Let’s go!’ he called to his followers as he rushed out of the room, tears flowing profusely.

‘Now, by the gods we worship,’ said Albany, ‘what started this?’

‘Don’t bother yourself to find out about it,’ said Goneril. ‘Just let his old age follow the course that dotage sets.’

Lear stormed in again. ‘What?’ he shouted. ‘Fifty of my followers at a stroke! Within a fortnight!’
‘What do you mean, sir?’ said Albany.

Not taking his eyes of Goneril he said: ‘I’ll tell you. Life and death, I’m ashamed that you have the power to shake my manly dignity like this, as if these hot tears that burst from me could make you worthy of causing them. Storms and fogs upon you! May the raw wounds of a father’s curse pierce all your senses! Foolish old eyes, if you don’t stop this weeping I’ll pluck you out and cast you with all those tears into the mud. Has it come to this? Ha! So be it. I have another daughter who, I am sure, is kind and comforting. When she hears about this she’ll scratch your wolfish face with her nails. You’ll find that I’ll resume the role that you think I’ve cast off forever!’ He staggered out again.

‘Did you hear that?’ said Goneril.

‘For all the great love I have for you, Goneril, I can’t take your side…’ began Albany.

‘Stop,’ interrupted Goneril. ‘Oswald! Come here! You, sir,’ she said to the fool, ‘more villain than fool, get going, after your master.’

The fool pretended to be terrified. ‘Nuncle Lear! Nuncle Lear! Wait. Take the fool with you!
A fox, when one has caught her,
And such a daughter,
Should surely go for slaughter,
If my cap would buy a halter.
So the Fool chases after…’
He ran off after Lear.

‘This man has been well advised,’ said Goneril. ‘A hundred knights! What a good idea, and how safe, to let him keep a hundred armed knights! Oh yes, so that on every dream, each rumour, every fantasy, each complaint: for anything he doesn’t like, he can support his senility with their power and put our lives in danger. Oswald! I say!’

‘Well you may be worrying about nothing,’ said Albany.

‘Safer not to be too trusting,’ she said. ‘I prefer to eliminate the dangers that concern me than live continually in their shadow. I know him well. I’ve written to my sister, telling her what he said. If she supports him and his hundred knights after I’ve explained the unsuitability … Oh, Oswald. Have you written that letter to my sister?’

‘Yes madam.’

‘Take some of your staff and ride to her. Give her a full account of my special fear. Add some reasons of your own to make it more convincing. Go on now, and come back as fast as you can.’

When he had gone she turned back to her unconvinced husband. ‘No, no, my lord,’ she said. ‘This milky attitude and behaviour of yours, although I don’t condemn it, yet, — forgive me — you are much more criticized for your naïvety than praised for your dangerous tolerance.’

‘I don’t know to what extent you’re right,’ he said. ‘Sometimes, when we try to make things better we make them worse.’

She shrugged. ‘Alright, then…’

‘Well,’ he said. ‘We’ll see how it turns out.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 1, Scene 5

Lear was packed, dressed and ready to leave. ‘Go ahead of us to Gloucester with this letter,’ he told Kent. ‘Don’t tell my daughter anything that you know other than what may come out of her questions about the letter. If you don’t hurry I’ll be there before you.’

Taking the hint, Kent moved fast. ‘I won’t sleep, my lord, till I’ve delivered your letter,’ he called over his shoulder.

The fool watched him and laughed. ‘If a man’s brains were in his heels wouldn’t they be in danger of chilblains?’

‘Yes boy,’ said Lear. He was answering the fool but the tension within him was unbearable.

‘Then cheer up,’ said the fool. ‘With your intelligence you’ll never have to wear soft slippers.’

That made Lear laugh, a forced, bitter laugh.

‘You’ll see,’ said the fool. ‘Your other daughter will be kind. Although she’s as similar to this one as a crab apple is to a crab, I know what I know.’

‘What do you know boy?’

‘She will taste the same. Do you know why one’s nose is in the middle of one’s face?’

‘No.’

‘Why, to keep one’s eyes on either side of one’s nose, so that what a man can’t smell out he can look into.’
Lear wasn’t listening. ‘I did her wrong…’ he said under his breath.

‘Do you know how an oyster makes its shell?’ demanded the fool.

‘No.’

‘Nor do I. But I know why a snail has a house.’


‘Why?’ said Lear.

‘To put his head into, of course: not to give it away to his daughters and leave himself without protection.’

‘I’ll forget myself,’ said Lear. ‘So kind a father,’ he muttered. ‘Are my horses ready?’

‘Your asses are doing it now,’ said the fool. ‘The reason why the Pleiades are no more than seven stars is a good one.’

‘Because they aren’t eight?’

‘Yes indeed. You’d make a good fool.’

Lear shook his head. ‘To take it back again,’ he muttered. ‘Monstrous ingratitude!’

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

‘What do you mean?’

‘You shouldn’t have got old before you were wise.’

Lear groaned. ‘Oh don’t let me go mad: not mad, sweet heaven. Keep me sane. I don’t want to be mad!’ One of the knights was coming towards them. ‘Well? Are my horses ready?’

‘Ready, my lord.’

‘Come boy.’

The fool, skipping after him, grinned.
‘She that’s a maid now, and laughs at my departure,
Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 2, Scene 1

Edmund encountered a young lord he knew as he made his way towards his brother’s hiding place in his father’s castle.’God save you, Curan,’ he said.

‘And you, sir,’ said Curan. ‘I’ve just been with your father, and I’ve informed him that the Duke of Cornwall and his duchess, Regan, will be here with him tonight.’

Edmund was surprised. ‘How did that come about?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Curan. ‘Have you heard the news that’s going about? I mean the whispered rumours, because it’s only idle gossip at the moment.’

‘No,’ said Edmund. ‘Please. Tell me.’

‘Haven’t you heard rumours of war between the Dukes of Cornwall and Albany?’

‘Not a word.’

‘You may do, then, in time. Goodbye, sir.’

The Duke coming there that night! Things were getting better and better. Fantastic! This fitted his scheme perfectly. His father had hidden himself to overhear his brother and he had a tricky operation to perform. He stopped at the foot of the staircase that led to Edgar’s hiding place. This had better work.

‘Brother,’ he called. ‘A word. Descend, brother. I say!’

A door opened. Edmund knew where his father was hiding — behind a huge pillar — and he went and stood in front of it. When Edgar approached, smiling, Edmund put on an agitated manner.

‘Oh sir, run from this place,’ he whispered. ‘Our father knows where you’re hiding. You have the advantage of darkness. Have you being saying things about the Duke of Cornwall? He’s on his way here right now, in the night, in a great hurry, and Regan’s with him. Have you said anything in his favour against the Duke of Albany? Think.’


‘I’m sure of it — not a word,’ said Edgar.

‘I can hear my father coming,’ said Edmund. ‘Excuse me: I have to pretend to draw my sword on you. You draw too, make as if to defend yourself. Make it realistic. Surrender!’ he shouted. ‘Come to my father. Light there! Fly, brother,’ he whispered. ‘Torches, torches! So, farewell,’ he whispered as Edgar turned and ran.
Edmund cut his arm. Some blood pouring from him would be convincing evidence of his fierce struggle. He had seen drunkards do more than this in fun. ‘Father! Father!’ he bellowed. ‘Stop, stop! Will no–one help me?’ Gloucester stepped from behind the pillar and joined Edmund as some servants appeared with torches. ‘Now, Edmund,’ he said, ‘where’s the villain?’

Edmund displayed his wounded arm. ‘He was standing here in the dark, his sharp sword out, mumbling of evil spells, and doing obeisance to the moon to gain her favour.’

‘But where is he?’

‘Look, sir, I’m bleeding.’

‘Where is the villain, Edmund?’

‘Fled this way, sir.’ Edmund pointed. ‘When he couldn’t…’

‘Pursue him!’ Gloucester told the servants. ‘Hurry. Go after him. Couldn’t what?’

‘Persuade me to murder your lordship,’ said Edmund. ‘I told him the vengeful gods vent all their thunder on parricides. I mentioned the strong and complex bond that ties a child to its father. Sir, in short, seeing how bitterly opposed I was to his unnatural scheme, he lunged at my defenceless body with his naked sword and wounded my arm. But when he saw the energy with which I responded to the challenge, aroused by the rightness of the cause, or perhaps startled by the noise I made, he suddenly ran away.’

‘No matter how far he flies, as long as he’s in this land he’ll be caught,’ said Gloucester. ‘And caught, killed! The noble Duke, my master, my worthy lord and patron, is coming here tonight. I’ll use his authority to proclaim that he who finds him will be rewarded for bringing the murderous coward to the stake. For anyone who shelters him, death!’

‘When I tried to dissuade him from his intention and found that he was determined to do it, with angry words I threatened to expose him,’ said Edmund. He replied, “You penniless bastard! Do you think that if it was your word against mine anyone would believe you? No, I’d deny it all. Absolutely. Even if you were to produce my own handwriting. I’d say it was your scheme and that you had proposed it. The world would have to be very stupid not to see the advantage of my death to you — enough to make you seek it.” ‘

‘Oh, the strange and uncompromising villain!’ exclaimed Gloucester. ‘He said he would deny his letter did he? He’s not my child!’


There was a trumpet call. ‘Listen,’ said Gloucester. ‘The Duke’s trumpets. I don’t know why he’s come. ‘I’ll block all the gates: the villain won’t escape. The Duke must grant me that. I’ll send a picture of him far and wide, too, so that the whole kingdom will know what he looks like. And, concerning my lands, loyal and natural boy, I’ll find a way for you to inherit them.’

They went out to meet Cornwall and Regan.

Greetings,my noble friend!’ said Cornwall. ‘Since I arrived a moment ago I’ve heard strange news.’

‘If it’s true, no vengeance is adequate to punish the offender,’ said Regan. ‘How are you, my lord?’

‘Oh madam, my old heart is broken: it’s broken.’

‘What! Did my father’s godson seek your life? The one my father named? Your Edgar?’

Tears rolled down Gloucester’s cheeks. ‘Oh, lady, lady, I’m so ashamed.’

‘Wasn’t he one of the riotous knights who served my father?’

‘I don’t know, madam, it’s too terrible, too terrible.’

‘Yes, madam,’ said Edmund, ‘he was one of them.’

‘It’s no wonder that he was disloyal, then,’ said Regan. ‘They’ve put him up to plotting the old man’s death so that they can squander his wealth. Just this very evening my sister has informed me about them and with such warnings that if they come to stay at my house I won’t be there.’

‘Nor I, Regan, I assure you,’ said Cornwall. ‘Edmund, I hear that you’ve been looking after your father.’

‘It was my duty, sir,’ said Edmund.

‘He exposed his plot, and received the wound you can see, trying to arrest him,’ said Gloucester. Cornwall nodded. ‘Is he being pursued?’

‘Yes, my good lord.’

‘If he’s captured you won’t have to fear him again,’ said Cornwall. ‘Make whatever plans you like, using my resources as you please. And you, Edmund, whose virtue and obedience is so commendable at this moment, you’ll be one of our people. We need such trustworthy people, so we’re seizing upon your services.

Edmund bowed. ‘I will serve you loyally, sir, above everything.’

‘I thank you on his behalf, your Grace,’ said Gloucester.

‘You don’t know why we came to visit you…’ began Gloucester


‘… so unexpectedly,’ said Regan, ‘weaving our way through the dark night. Matters, noble Gloucester, of some importance, requiring your advice. Our father has written to us — and so has our sister — of quarrels, and I thought it best to deal with it away from home. The messengers are waiting for their instructions. Our good old friend, cheer up, and give us your much valued advice about these matters. They require instant action.’

Gloucester bowed. ‘Your servant, madam. Your Graces are most welcome.’ he led the way indoors.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 2, Scene 2

Kent arrived at Gloucester’s castle and handed his horse over to the stable attendants. Oswald and his attendants were riding towards the castle. Oswald drew up and called to Kent.

‘Good evening, friend. Are you a a servant here?’

‘Aye,’ said Kent.

‘Where can we put our horses?’

‘In the mud,’ said Kent.

‘Please, if you have any respect for me, tell me.’

‘I don’t have any respect for you.’

‘Well then, I don’t care about you either,’ said Oswald.

‘If there’s any more lip from you I’ll make you care about me,’ said Kent.

‘Why are you abusing me?’ said Oswald. ‘I don’t even know you.’ He dismounted.

‘Fellow, I know you,’ said Kent.

‘What do you know about me?’

‘You’re a knave, a rascal, an eater of rotten meat: a low–life, vain, shallow, beggarly, overdressed, filthy, shabby knave: a lily–livered, officious whoreson: a conceited, out–and–out, complete rogue: one who thinks that being a pimp is a good profession but is nothing more than a mixture of knave, beggar, coward, pimp, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch — one whom I will beat until you shriek if you deny one syllable of what you are!’


‘Well! What a monstrous fellow you are, to badmouth someone you don’t know and who doesn’t know you,’ said Oswald. He turned to remount his horse.

‘What a brazen–faced rascal you are!’ said Kent. ‘Denying you know me! Is it two days since I tripped you up and beat you in front of the king? Draw, you rogue: although it’s night–time the moon is shining. I’ll make you a thing through which the moon will shine,’ He drew his sword. ‘you whoreson, miserable fraud, draw!’
Oswald screamed: ‘Get away! I’ll have nothing to do with you.’

He tried desperately to grab the reins of his horse but Kent pulled him away and turned him round.
‘Draw, you rascal,’ he insisted. ‘You’ve come here with letters against the king and you side with that vain nobody against her royal father. Draw, you rogue, or I’ll really roast your shanks. Draw, you rascal! Come on!’

Oswald was terrified. He looked around desperately then opened his mouth. ‘Help! Ho! Murder! Help!’
Kent flung his sword down and started beating him with his fists. ‘Fight, you scum.’ Oswald fell over. ‘Get up, you rogue. Get up, you affected slave. Fight!’

Oswald lay on the ground screaming. ‘Help! Murder! Murder!

Edmund appeared, his rapier drawn. ‘Hey! What’s going on?’ he shouted. ‘Stop!’

‘I’ll take you on too, young fellow–me–lad, if you like,’ said Kent. ‘Come on, I’ll show you. Come on, my lad.’

The news of the disturbance had reached the ears of the great ones and they came rushing towards the fighting men.

‘Weapons!’ exclaimed Gloucester. ‘Fighting! ‘What’s this?’

‘No more, upon your lives,’ said Cornwall. ‘The next one to strike dies.’

Some attendants pulled Kent back and stood, holding him.

‘What’s this about?’ said Cornwall.

‘They’re messengers from our sister and the king,’ said Regan.

‘What’s the quarrel? Speak!’ said Cornwall.

Oswald got up slowly and brushed himself off. ‘I’m out of breath,’ he said.

‘No wonder,’ said Kent. ‘Your courage has been over–active. You cowardly rascal, you’re not real: a tailor made you.’

‘You’re a weird fellow,’ said Cornwall. ‘A tailor make a man?’


‘A tailor, sir. A stone mason or a painter couldn’t have done such a bad job of it, even if they’d been in the trade for only two years.’

‘Anyway, tell me, how did your quarrel start?’

‘This ancient ruffian, sir,’ said Oswald, ‘whose life I have spared because of his grey beard ….’

‘You whoreson zed, you unnecessary letter!’ fumed Kent. ‘My lord, if you’ll allow me, I’ll grind this useless villain into mortar and plaster the wall of a john with him. Spare my grey beard you wagtail?’ He tried to raise his arm and the servants tightened their grip.

‘Quiet, sirrah,’ said Cornwall. ‘You coarse rogue. Haven’t you got any respect?’

‘Yes, sir, but anger takes first place.’

‘Why are you so angry?’ said Cornwall.

‘Because such a slave as this should wear a sword but wear no honesty. Smiling villains like these often gnaw like rats through the holy cords of love that are too tight to be severed in any other way. They facilitate the wild passions of their masters: they pour oil on fire: they chill their dejected moods: they deny, affirm and turn like weathercocks with every wind blown by their masters. They know nothing other than how to follow like dogs.’

Oswald smirked, and winked at Cornwall.

‘Damn your smirking face!’ yelled Kent. ‘Are you laughing at me as though I were a fool? Goose!. If I caught you on Salisbury plain I’d drive you cackling home to Winchester!’

‘What? Are you mad, old fellow?’ said Cornwall.

‘How did you fall out?’ said Gloucester. ‘Tell us that.’

‘No enemies harbour such hatred as I and such a knave.’

‘Why do you call him a knave? What’s he done?’

‘I don’t like his face.’

‘Or mine, or his, or hers probably,’ said Gloucester.

‘Sir, it’s my practice to be blunt. I have to admit that I’ve seen better faces in my time than any that sit on the shoulders before me now.’


‘This is a fellow who, having once been praised for bluntness, affects an insolent roughness, but he gets it all wrong,’ said Cornwall. ‘He cannot flatter: oh no, he must speak the truth. If people accept that so be it, if not, oh well, that’s just his manner. I know this kind of rogue. Behind this so–called bluntness they harbour more craftiness and more corrupt purposes than twenty simple bootlickers who do as they’re told.’ Kent took his cap off and bowed exaggeratedly. ‘Sir, in all good faith, in sincere honesty, begging your greatness’ pardon, whose power, like the flames that flicker on the surface of the sun…’ Conrwall interrupted him. ‘What are you up to?’

Kent continued, with real sincerity this time: ‘Changing my manner of speaking, which you disapprove of so much. I can tell you, sir, I’m no flatterer: he who tricked you with plain speaking was a blunt rogue. That’s something I’ll never be even though I’d risk incurring your displeasure by refusing to be.’

Cornwall turned to Oswald. ‘What did you do to him?’

‘Nothing,’ said Oswald. ‘Very recently the King, his master, decided to hit me because he had misconstrued something. Whereupon, he – ‘ pointing at Kent — ‘in support of him, pandering to his rage, tripped me from behind. Being down, he insulted me, abused me and, making himself out to be the big man, got acknowledgement and was praised by the King for attacking an innocent and defenceless man. And to finish this brave campaign he drew on me here again.’

‘All rogues and cowards like him think they’re superior to Ajax in courage,’ said Kent.

‘Bring the stocks!’ exclaimed Cornwall. ‘You stubborn old rascal, you old braggart, we’ll teach you.’

‘Sir, I am too old to learn,’ said Kent. ‘Don’t call for your stocks for me. I serve the king, on whose business I was sent to you. You would be showing little respect, over–reaching yourself, personally insulting my master, by placing his messenger in the stocks.’

‘Bring the stocks!’ insisted Cornwall. ‘Upon my honour, he’ll sit there till noon!’

‘Till noon?’ said Regan. ‘Till night, my lord, and all night too.’

‘Why, madam,’ said Kent, ‘if I were your father’s dog you wouldn’t abuse me like that.’

‘Sir, you being his stooge, I will,’ she said. ‘This is the very sort of fellow our sister speaks of.’

The cart with the stocks on it was being driven out of a barn and it trundled up to them.

‘Come, bring the stocks, said Regan.

Gloucester had said nothing while this was going on and now he put his hand on Cornwall’s shoulder. ‘Let me plead with your Grace not to do this,’ he said. ‘He’s very much out of order and the good King, his master, will reprimand him for it. The undignified punishment you’re proposing is for the lowest and most discredited wretches for petty thieving and minor offences. The King will take it as an insult that his messenger should be shackled like this.’

‘I’ll take the responsibility,’ said Cornwall.

Regan tossed her head. ‘My sister may be much more offended by the way her gentleman has been abused and assaulted for carrying out her business. Put his legs in.’


They didn’t have to force Kent into the stocks. He smiled round at them all, climbed on to the cart and positioned himself, even placing his feet in the holes himself. They started walking towards the castle doors. Gloucester hung back and Cornwall called to him.

‘Let’s go my lord.’ He, Regan and Edmund entered the castle.

‘I’m sorry about this, friend,’ Gloucester told Kent. ‘It’s the Duke’s whim and everyone knows that his temperament won’t allow any contradiction. I’ll plead on your behalf.’

‘Please don’t, sir,’ said Kent. ‘I’ve travelled a long way and gone without sleep. I’ll sleep some of the time away and for the rest I’ll whistle. Even a good man’s luck can run out. Good morning to you.’

‘The Duke’s to blame for this. It’s not nice.’ Gloucester walked away, shaking his head sadly.

Left to himself Kent reflected on matters. The good king should have remembered the old proverb — from the frying pan into the fire. It had been a long day. He wished the moon would come out again so that he would be able to use its light to read a letter he had received. He knew it was from Cordelia, who had most fortunately been informed of his disguise. He knew that she would find the time to bring some healing to this terrible state of affairs. He glanced down at his feet then looked away. His weary and heavy eyes should take this opportunity of not looking at these shameful stocks. Good night, Fortune. Smile once more and turn your wheel! On that thought he fell asleep.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 2, Scene 3

Edgar had taken refuge in a wood. He had heard himself proclaimed an outlaw and gone to the wood, escaping the hunt by hiding in a convenient hollow tree. No gates or doors were safe. There was no place that wasn’t tightly guarded, with re–inforcements, in order to capture him. While he knew that he could escape he would have to be on his guard. He intended to assume the disguise of the lowest and most wretched kind of man that poverty had ever dragged down to the level of an animal. He would smear his face with filth, wear a loincloth, allow his hair to become matted, and face the elements with nakedness. He had seen many mad beggars around the countryside, who shouted and stuck pins, wooden splinters, nails and sprigs of rosemary into their cold and numb bare arms then used that horrible spectacle to extort charity from humble farms, poor villages, sheep farms and mills. Sometimes they used lunatic curses, sometimes prayers. He imitated a crazy beggar: ‘Poor Turlygod! Poor Tom!’ he said out loud. There was at least some life for him in that. As Edgar he had nothing.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 2, Scene 4

Lear’s coach pulled up in front of Gloucester’s castle, where the cart on which Kent sat, his legs secured in the stocks, stood. The King had gone to Cornwall’s castle and found that they were not there. So he had decided to go to Gloucester. One of his knights had gone before to let Gloucester know that he was coming and he came out now to tell Lear what was happening.

‘It’s strange that they should leave home like that and not send my messenger back to tell me,’ said Lear.

‘As I understand it,’ said the knight, ‘they had no intention of going anywhere the evening before.’

Lear got out and began walking towards the castle doors.

‘Greetings, noble master,’ called Kent as the King passed him.

Lear was taken aback as he recognised his servant. ‘Ha!’ he exclaimed, ‘is this humiliation habitual with you?’

‘No, my lord,’ said Kent.

The fool giggled. ‘He’s wearing constricting garters. Horses are tied by their heads, dogs and bears by their necks, monkeys by the waist and men by the legs. When a man gets out of hand then he has to wear wooden stockings.’

‘Who has so mistaken your position that he has placed you here?’ said Lear.

‘It is both he and she,’ said Kent. ‘Your son and your daughter.’

‘No!’

‘Yes!’

‘No, I say!

‘I say aye!’

‘No, no, they wouldn’t!’

‘Yes, yes, they have.’

‘By Jupiter, I swear no!’

‘By Jupiter, I swear aye.’

‘They wouldn’t dare do it,’ said Lear. ‘They could not — would not — do it. It’s worse than murder to do such outrageous violence to the King’s man. Tell me briefly what you did to deserve, or how they could have imposed, this treatment coming, as you did, from me.’

‘My lord, when I delivered your Highness’ letters to them at their home, no sooner had I risen from my knees than a stinking messenger, anxious in his haste, half breathless, came panting out salutations from his mistress, Goneril. Ignoring the fact that I was in the middle of business with them he delivered some letters, which they immediately read. Acting on their contents they summoned their servants and mounted their horses without delay. They ordered me to follow and await an answer whenever it suited them to give one, and gave me cold looks. So when I met the other messenger here — whose welcome, I could see, had poisoned mine — I recognised him as that same fellow who recently behaved so insolently towards your Highness. Having more courage than sense I drew. He woke the whole household with his loud, cowardly cries. Your son and daughter found this offence worthy of the shame I’m now suffering.’

‘Winter isn’t over if the wild geese fly that way,’ said the fool.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind,
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne’er turns the key to the poor
But in spite of that you’ll have more income from your daughters than you can count in one year.’

Lear put his hand up to his throat. ‘Oh how this smothering sensation wells up towards my heart,’ he moaned. ‘This choking! Down, you climbing sorrow — your place is down below. Where is this daughter?’

‘With the Earl, sir. Indoors.’

‘Don’t follow me,’ said Lear, starting towards the doors. ‘Wait here.’

‘Did you commit no other offences than the one you mentioned?’ said the knight.

‘None. But why has the king got so few with him?’


The fool laughed. ‘If you’d been put in the stocks for that question you’d have well deserved it.’

‘Why, Fool?’ said Kent.

‘We’ll have to send you to school with the ant,’ said the fool. ‘To teach you that you can’t gain by working for a lost cause. All who follow their noses are guided by their eyes except blind men, and there’s not a nose among twenty of them that can’t smell a man who stinks. Let go of a huge wheel when it’s running down a hill lest you break your neck trying to keep up with it. Let it draw you when it’s going upwards, though. When a wise man gives you better advice give me mine back again. I wouldn’t want anyone except knaves to follow it, since a fool gives it.
That man who serves and seeks for gain,
And follows but for form,
Will pack when it begins to rain,
And leave thee in a storm.
But I will tarry: the Fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly.
The knave turns fool that runs away:
The fool no knave: perdy!’

‘Where did you learn this, Fool?’ said Kent.

The fool grinned. ‘Not in the stocks.’

Lear came striding towards them, followed by a fawning Gloucester. ‘Refused to speak to me!’ exclaimed Lear. ‘They are sick? They’re tired? They’ve travelled all night? Mere excuses, the symptoms of revolt and abandonment. Bring me a better answer.’

‘My dear lord,’ said Gloucester. ‘You know the fiery temperament of the Duke — how obstinate and determined he is about having his own way.’

Lear threw his head back and roared: ‘Vengeance! Plague! Death! Confusion! “Fiery!” What do you mean “temperament”? I wish to talk to the Duke of Cornwall and his wife!’

‘Well my good lord,’ said Gloucester, ‘I have informed them of that.’

‘Informed them! Do you understand me, man?’

‘Yes, my good lord.’


Lear went close to Gloucester and spoke slowly, right into his face. ‘The King wishes to speak to Cornwall. The dear father wishes to speak to his daughter — insists on her obedience. Have they been informed of that? My breath and blood! Fiery! The fiery Duke! Tell the hot tempered Duke that –‘ He stopped. ‘No, but not yet. Maybe he’s unwell. Illness does make us neglect the duties we have no difficulty performing when we’re fit. We’re not ourselves when we’re under the weather: our minds then suffer with our bodies. I’ll control myself and restrain my impetuous inclination to mistake the indisposed and ill for the healthy man.’ He stood, drawing huge breaths to calm himself. But then he caught sight of Kent in the stocks. ‘Death on my rank!’ he stormed. ‘Why’s he sitting there? This act persuades me that this aloofness of the Duke and his wife is deliberate. Get my servant out of there! Go and tell the Duke and his wife that I want to talk to them. Right now! At once! Tell them to come out and listen to me or I’ll beat a drum at their bedroom door until they feel they’ll never be able to sleep again!’

Gloucester went off, shaking his head anxiously: ‘I’d like all to be well between you,’ he muttered.

Lear clutched his chest. ‘Oh me! My heart, my rising heart! But, down!’

‘Shout at it, Nuncle,’ said the fool, ‘as the cockney did at the eels when she put them live into the fish paste. She hit them over the head with a stick and cried: “Down, playful creatures, down!” It was her brother who, out of pure kindness to his horse, buttered his hay,’

Gloucester was coming back, followed by Cornwall and Regan.

Lear smiled. ‘Good morning to you both,’ he called to them.

Cornwall strode forward, signalling as he did so, to the servants, to release Kent. He stopped and bowed to Lear. ‘Hail to your Grace.’

Regan came up behind her husband and smiled at her father. ‘I am glad to see your Highness,’ she said, curtseying.

Regan, I think you are,’ said Lear. ‘I have good reason for thinking so. If you weren’t glad I would separate myself from your mother’s grave because it would be holding an adulteress.’

Kent was approaching. ‘Oh, are you free?’ said Lear. ‘We’ll talk about this some other time.’

Kent nodded and left them. Lear turned back to his daughter. ‘Beloved Regan, your sister’s not worth it. Oh Regan, she’s stabbed me here with her sharp–toothed unkindness..’ — beating his chest — ‘… like a vulture that’s been tied there. I can scarcely tell you: you wouldn’t believe the depraved manner with which… Oh, Regan!’

‘Oh come on, sir, be patient,’ she said. ‘I’m hoping it’s that you’re undervaluing her rather than that she’s fallen short of her duty.’

‘What’s that?’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I can’t imagine for a moment that my sister would fail in her duty. If she has indeed restrained the wildness of your followers it would be on such grounds and for such good reasons as to clear her from all blame.’

Lear stared at her in disbelief. Then, ‘My curses on her!’ he exclaimed.

Regan tutted. ‘Oh sir, you are old. You are right at the end of your life. You should be advised and guided by some mature person who knows you better than you know yourself. So I beg you to go back to our sister and tell her that you’ve wronged her.’

‘Ask her forgiveness?’ said Lear. ‘Do you think that’s appropriate to my royal state?’. He knelt down and clasped his hands in an exaggerated attitude of prayer. ‘ “Dear daughter, I confess that I am old: old men are a nuisance. On my knees I beg you for clothes, bed and food.” ‘


Regan tossed her head. ‘Good sir, stop this,’ she said. ‘These are unseemly tricks. Go back to my sister.’
‘Never, Regan, she’s deprived me of half my retinue, given me black looks and lashed me with her tongue, serpent–like, on my very heart. May all the stored–up vengeance of heaven drop on her ungrateful head. Strike her unborn children, you infectious winds, with lameness!’

‘For shame, sir, for shame!’ exclaimed Cornwall.

‘You quick lightning, aim your blinding flames into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, you fen fogs sucked up by the powerful sun by falling on her and destroying her beauty!’

‘Oh, the blessed gods!’ exclaimed Regan, ‘That’s how you’ll curse me when the mood takes you!’

‘No, Regan, you’ll never have my curse. Your tender–hearted nature won’t allow harshness. Her eyes are hostile but yours are comforting and don’t smolder. You don’t have it in you to begrudge me my pleasures, to cut off my retinue, to exchange hasty words, to reduce my following and, finally, to bolt the door against me. You understand better the duties of a child, good manners, dues of gratitude. You haven’t forgotten the half of the kingdom that I gave you.’

‘Good sir,’ she said, ‘get to the point.’

‘Who put my man in the stocks?’

A trumpet sounded and Cornwall scoured the horizen. ‘Who’s trumpet is that?’

‘I know it,’ said Regan. ‘It’s my sister’s. It confirms her letter, that she’d be here soon.’ Oswald was approaching. ‘Is your lady here?’ said Regan.

When Lear saw Oswald he was filled with anger. ‘This is the slave whose arrogant manner depends on the fickle patronage of she whom he follows. Get out of my sight, rogue!’

‘What does your Grace mean?’ said Cornwall.

‘Who put my servant in the stocks? Regan, I’m sure you didn’t know about it. Who’s this?’ He flinched as Goneril’s coach drew up and she got out. ‘Oh heavens, if you love old men: if your gracious power values obedience: if you yourselves are old, make this your cause: intervene and take my side.’ He glared at Goneril. ‘Aren’t you ashamed to look upon this beard?’ The sisters greeted each other with affection. ‘Oh Regan,’ he said. ‘Will you take her hand?’

‘Why not my hand, sir?’ said Goneril ‘How have I offended? Something isn’t offensive just because someone says so and because old men call it that.’

Lear put his hand on his chest. ”Oh sides, you are too tough! Are you still intact? How did my man come to be in the stocks?’

‘I put him there, sir,’ said Cornwall, ‘but his misconduct deserved worse.’

‘You! Did you?’


‘Please, sir,’ said Regan, ‘being weak, act accordingly. If you will return with my sister and stay with her till the end of your month — dismissing half your followers — then you can come to me. I’m away from home at present and not in a position to entertain you properly.’

‘Return to her? And fifty men dismissed? No, I’d rather reject all shelter and choose to fight the elements: be the companion of the wolf and the owl, feel the sharp pinch of deprivation. Return with her? I would rather kneel before the throne of the passionate France, who took our youngest–born without a dowry, and like a petty squire, beg a pension of him to keep the wolf from the door. Return with her! Persuade me instead to be the slave and underling to this detested servant!’ He pointed at Oswald.

‘Suit yourself, sir,’ said Goneril, yawning.

Lear appealed to her. ‘I beg of you, daughter,’ he said, ‘don’t make me go mad. I won’t trouble you, my child. Farewell. We won’t meet any more: we won’t see each other any more.’ There were tears in his eyes. He sobbed quietly then his anger returned. ‘But you’re still my flesh and blood — my daughter. Or rather, a disease that’s in my flesh, which I have to acknowledge mine. You’re a boil, a plague–sore, a swollen carbuncle in my corrupted blood. But I won’t curse you. Let shame choose its own time, I won’t summon it. I’m not calling on Jove to hurl his thunder, nor tell tales about you to him, whose judgment is supreme. Improve when you can: be better at your leisure: I can be patient. I can stay with Regan. I and my hundred knights.’
‘Not quite,’ said Regan. ‘I wasn’t expecting you yet, nor am I prepared for a fitting welcome. Listen, sir, to my sister. Any reasonable person listening to you will excuse you on the grounds of your old age and therefore… but she knows what she’s doing.’

‘Is this a reasonable thing to say?’ said Lear.

‘I dare say it is, sir,’ she said. ‘What? Fifty followers? Isn’t that enough? Why should you need more? Yes, or even so many, since both the expense and the danger argue against such a large number? How could so many people live in harmony in one house under two masters. It’s hard — almost impossible.’

‘Why couldn’t you, my lord, be looked after by her servants, or mine?’ said Goneril.

‘Why not, my lord?’ said Regan. ‘If they then happened to fall short of their duties to you we could correct them. If you want to come to me, because now I perceive a danger, I would ask you to bring only twenty–five: I won’t accommodate or recognise any more.’

‘I gave you everything…’ began Lear.

‘And it took you a long time,’ retorted Regan.

‘… made you the guardians of my kingdom, and my trustees, but with the condition that I should keep a following of such a number. What? Do I have to come to you with twenty–five? Regan, is that what you said?’

‘And I repeat it, my lord: no more with me.’

‘Wicked creatures look better when compared with others that are more wicked,’ said Lear. ‘Not being the worst is some measure of praise.’ He turned to Goneril. ‘I’ll go with you. Your fifty is twice twenty–five. Your love is twice hers.’

‘Listen, my lord,’ said Goneril. ‘Why do you need twenty–five, ten or five to look after you in a house where twice as many have orders to wait on you?’

‘Why do you need one?’ said Regan.

‘Oh don’t argue about the need! Even our meanest beggars have things they can do without. If you don’t grant man more than he needs then his life would be no better than an animal’s. You are a lady. If you dress only to be warm, why then, there’d be no need for the gorgeous fashionable clothes you wear, that barely keep you warm. But true need…’ He stopped in mid sentence and raised his hands to his head. ‘Heaven give me patience — the patience I need! You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, as full of grief as I am of age — wretched in both! If it’s you that is stirring these daughters’ hearts against their father, don’t make me such a fool as to bear it tamely: fill me with noble anger and don’t let the weapons of women — tears — stain my man’s cheeks! No, you unnatural hags — I’ll take such revenge on you both that the whole world will… I will do such things — I don’t know what they are yet, but they will be earth–shattering. You think I’ll weep! No, I won’t weep. I’ve got every reason for weeping, but this heart will shatter into a hundred thousand fragments before I’ll weep. Oh Fool, I’m going mad!’ He staggered off.

‘Let us go inside,’ said Cornwall. ‘There’s going to be a storm.’

‘This is a small house,’ said Regan. ‘The old man and his people can’t be properly accommodated.:

‘It’s his own fault,’ said Goneril. ‘He’s upset himself and has to take the consequences of such folly.’

‘Regarding himself, I’ll gladly take him, but not one follower,’ said Regan.

‘That’s my position too,’ said Goneril. ‘Where is my Lord of Gloucester?’

‘He followed the old man,’ said Cornwall. ‘Here he is, coming back.’

‘The King is in a terrible rage,’ said Gloucester.

‘Where’s he going?’ said Cornwall.

‘He’s called for his horses. I don’t know where he’s going.’

‘It’s best to let him have his own way. He’s his own master.’

Goneril nodded. ‘My lord, by no means beg him to stay.’

‘Alas,’ said Gloucester. ‘It will be night eventually and the bleak winds are blustering harshly. There’s hardly a bush for miles around.’

‘Oh sir,’ said Regan, ‘Wilful men have to learn from their destructive actions. Shut your doors. He’s attended by such a desperate mob and it would be wise to be be on guard against whatever they may provoke him into doing.’

‘Shut your doors, my lord,’ said Cornwall. ‘It’s a wild night. My Regan’s giving you good advice. Come out of the storm.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 3, Scene 1

Gloucester’s castle was situated on the edge of a vast heath. Kent had begun his search for the King there. The storm that had threatened during Lear’s encounter with his daughters had broken and the heath had been transformed into a wild, noisy and wet hell, with blinding lightning and deafening thunderclaps. The rain came down in cutting sheets, blown about by a screaming gale.

It would be impossible to find the King in these conditions but, unusually for such a wild night, there was someone out here with him. Kent struggled toward the dim figure and managed to reach him.

‘Who’s there, besides foul weather?’ he shouted.

The man shouted back. ‘Someone just as disturbed as the weather!’

Kent could see the man’s face, now. It was the knight who had accompanied the king in his coach. ‘I know you,’ he said. ‘Where’s the king?’

‘He’s trying to cope with the angry elements,’ said the knight. ‘He’s telling the wind to blow the earth into the sea, or raise the swollen waters above the coast, that things might change or disappear. He’s tearing his white hair, which the sudden gusts catch with eyeless rage in their fury and think nothing of it. He struggles in his pathetic human state to out–storm the to–and–fro thrusting of the wind and rain. On this particular night, when even the famished mother bear will take cover, and the lion and the starving wolf are keeping their fur dry, he runs, bareheaded, and shouts out recklessly to the tempest.’

‘But who is with him?’

‘No–one, except the fool, who’s working hard to laugh off his master’s deeply felt injuries.’


Kent nodded. ‘Sir, I do know you,’ he said, ‘ and because of that I’ll confide something important in you. There is a rift between Albany and Cornwall, although they’ve been able to conceal it with deceitfulness. They have servants — as which great ones don’t? — who seem no less than they appear but are spies supplying France with intelligence about our kingdom: either the quarrels and plottings of the Dukes or the rough way both of them have handled the kind old King — or something more sinister, of which those are only the outward signs. But there’s no doubt that an army is coming to this divided kingdom from France who, knowing too well how unguarded we are, has already established a secret foothold in our best ports and are on the point of showing themselves in their full power. Now, as for you, if you trust me enough to speed to Dover you will find some men who will thank you for delivering an honest account of the unnatural and maddening sorrow that the King has got cause to complain of. I am a gentleman of high rank and good breeding and as a result of my information and judgment I offer this commission to you.’

‘I’d like to talk about this a bit more,’ said the knight.

‘No, don’t, said Kent. ‘For confirmation that I’m more than my outward appearance suggests open this purse and remove the contents.’

The knight opened the purse and found a ring there.

‘If you see Cordelia — and I have no doubt that you will — show her this ring and she’ll tell you who this fellow who’s unknown to you at present, is. Fie on this storm. I’m going to find the King.’

‘Give me your hand,’ said the knight. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Just one more thing, the most important of all: that when we have found the King — you go that way, I’ll this — whoever finds him first, give the other a shout.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 3, Scene 2

The storm had worsened. The wind punished the bushes mercilessly and the rain drenched everything until the whole world was sodden. Visibility was very poor and Lear and the Fool could find no shelter. Lear braced his body against the elements and tried to shout above their roaring.

‘Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks. Rage! Blow you cataracts and hurricanes: spout till you have drenched our steeples and drowned their weathercocks! You sulphurous and mind–blowing lightning flashes, heralds of oak–splitting thunderbolts! Singe my white head! And you, all–shaking thunder: flatten the roundness of the world. Crack Nature’s moulds, spill in an instant the seeds from which ungrateful man grows!’

The Fool went close to him and yelled in his ear: ‘Oh Nuncle, humility in a dry house is better than this drenching out of doors. Good Nuncle, go in and ask a blessing of your daughters. This night spares neither wise men nor fools.’

Lear continued to shake his fists at the storm. ‘Rumble your bellyful!’ he shouted. ‘Spit, fire! Spout, rain! Neither rain, wind, thunder or fire are my daughters, I don’t accuse you, you natural elements, of cruelty! I never gave you a kingdom or called you my children. You owe me nothing. So vent your pleasure. Here I stand, your slave, a poor, infirm, weak and despised old man. Nevertheless, you’re still servile lackeys if you want to join up with two pernicious daughters to use your celestial forces against a head as old and white as this. Oh, it’s detestable!’

‘He who has a house to put his head in has got sound brains,’ said the Fool.
‘The cod–piece that will house
Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse:
So beggars marry many.
The man who makes his toe
What he his heart should make,
Shall of a corn cry woe,
And turn his sleep to wake.
There has never yet been a beautiful woman who didn’t admire herself in a mirror.’


Kent had seen their dim shapes and was making towards them.

‘No,’ muttered Lear. ‘I will be the model of patience. I will say nothing.’

‘Who’s there?’ called Kent.

‘To be sure,’ answered the Fool, ‘here’s graciousness and vulgarity: that is to say, a wise man and a fool.’

Alas, sir, is it you?’ said Kent. ‘Even nocturnal animals hate nights like this. The enraged skies terrify even those wild nocturnal creatures and make them keep to their caves. Since I’ve been a grown man I don’t remember having seen such sheets of fire, such peals of horrid thunder, such groans or roaring wind and rain. Man wasn’t made to endure such suffering and fear.’

‘Let the great gods who are making this dreadful turmoil over our heads seek out their enemies now!’ exclaimed Lear. ‘Tremble you wretch, whose secret crimes have as yet gone unpunished. Hide yourself, you bloody murderer, you perjurer, and you just as villainous incestuous man. Rogue! Shake yourself to pieces. You’ve given the impression of being a man under cover of convenient hypocrisy. Well–hidden crimes, expose yourselves and beg these dreadful dispensers of vengeance for mercy. I am a man more sinned against than sinning.’

Kent shook his head at his master’s state. ‘Alack, bare–headed!’ he exclaimed. ‘My gracious lord, there is a shed near here. It will afford you some friendly protection from the storm. Rest there while I return to that cruel house — harder–hearted than the stones of which it’s made, which just a while ago, denied me access when I was enquiring after you — to force them to show you that courtesy they have so far refused you.’

‘My mind is starting to go,’ said Lear. ‘Come on, my boy.’ He put his arms out to the Fool, who rushed into his embrace. ‘How are you, my boy? Are you cold? I’m cold myself.’ He nodded at Kent. ‘Where is this straw, my fellow? Need is a strange thing — it can make worthless things precious. Come on then: your shed. Poor Fool and knave. There’s still a part of my heart that feels sorry for you.’

The Fool began singing:
‘He that has and a little tiny wit,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
though the rain it raineth every day.’

‘True, my boy,’ said Lear. ‘Come,’ he told Kent, ‘take us to this shed.’


The Fool watched them go. This was a good night for cooling the lust of a frisky wench. He would follow them but he would utter a prophesy before he went.
When priests are more in word than matter:
When brewers mar their malt with water:
When nobles are their tailors’ tutors:
No heretics burned, but wenches suitors:
When every case in law is right:
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight:
When slanders do not live in tongues:
Nor cut–purses come not to throngs:
When usurers tell their gold i’ th’ field:
and bawds and whores do churches build:
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion:
then comes the time, who lives to see’t,
That going shall be used with feet.

One day in the future Merlin would make that prophecy. The Fool was born long before the magician’s time.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 3, Scene 3

Gloucester looked for, and found, Edmund. He carried a torch, as though about to go out.

‘Oh dear, oh dear, Edmund,’ he said. ‘I don’t like this unnatural behaviour. When I asked them for permission to take pity on him they took possession of my house. They ordered me on pain of their permanent displeasure, not to talk about him, nor plead on his behalf, nor in any way sustain him.’

‘How savage and unnatural that is!’ exclaimed Edmund.

‘Shhh! Quiet, don’t say anything,’ said Gloucester. ‘There is some division between the Dukes, and something even worse. I’ve received a letter tonight — it’s too dangerous to talk about it, I’ve locked it in my bedroom. These wrongs the king is now suffering will be fully avenged. Part of an army has already landed. We must take the King’s side. I’m going to look for him and secretly give him aid. Go and keep the Duke busy so that he won’t notice what I’m doing. If he asks for me tell him I’m ill and gone to bed. Even if I die for it, as has been threatened, the King, my old master, must be given relief. Some strange things are going to happen, Edmund. I beg you, be careful.’

When he had gone Edmund stood for a while. The kindness, which his father had been forbidden to perform, had to be related to the Duke at once. And the letter too. That should be worth something to him: it would gain for him what his father was going to lose — nothing less than everything. The young rise when the old fall.

He went off to find Cornwall.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 3, Scene 4

When they arrived at the broken–down, doorless, shack, Kent, who had been leading them, stood aside. ‘Here is the place, my lord,’ he said. ‘Enter, my dear lord. The harshness of an unsheltered night is too much for anyone to endure.’ He took Lear’s arm. Lear shook him off roughly.

‘Leave me alone,’ he said.

‘My dear lord, go in,’ Kent said. The storm was raging with renewed vigour.

Lear refused. ‘Do you want to break my heart?’ he said.

Kent’s tears joined the raindrops that pounded his face. ‘I’d rather break my own,’ he said. ‘My dear lord, go in.’

Lear said: ‘You think it’s something of great significance that this dramatic storm is soaking us to the skin. It is — to you. But when there’s a greater suffering the lesser is hardly felt. You’d want to avoid a bear but if your flight lay toward the roaring sea you’d meet the bear face to face. When you don’t have anything on your mind you’re sensitive to physical pain. This storm in my mind obliterates all feeling other than my mental anguish — filial ingratitude. Isn’t it as though my mouth should bite the hand that lifts food to it? But I will punish that severely. No, I won’t weep any more. To shut me out on a night like this!’ He stepped back, turned and shook his fist at the storm. ‘Pour on. I’ll endure it!’ he shouted. He turned back to Kent, pleading. ‘On a night like this! Oh Regan, Goneril, your old, kind, father, whose honest heart gave you everything!’ He grabbed Kent’s sleeve. ‘Oh that way leads to madness. Let me put that out of my mind. No more of that!’

Kent tried again. ‘My dear lord, go in here.’

‘Please, you go in,’ said Lear. ‘Look after your own comfort. This storm won’t allow me to think about things that would be more painful. But I’ll go in.’ He reached out and gripped the Fool’s arm. ‘In boy,’ he said. ‘You first.’ He looked out at the storm again. ‘You homeless poor,’ he began, then turned back to the Fool and urged him to go in. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Get in there. I’ll pray and then I’ll sleep.’

The Fool did as he had been told but Lear ignored Kent’s continuing efforts to induce him into the hovel. ‘Poor naked wretches,’ he continued, ‘wherever you are, that endure the pelting of this pitiless storm, how shall your bare heads and thin bodies, your tattered and torn raggedness, protect you from weather like this? Oh I have taken too little notice of this. Take medicine, you great ones! Expose yourself and feel what wretches feel so that you might share your wealth and show the Heavens to be more just.

A voice from inside the hovel wailed pitifully: ‘Fathom and a half! Fathom and a half! Poor Tom!’

The Fool came rushing out, terrified. ‘Don’t come in here, Nuncle. There’s a ghost in there. Help me! Help me!’ he cried.

Kent reached out to the Fool. ‘Give me your hand,’ he said. He leant towards the door and shouted as loudly as he could: ‘Who’s there?’

‘A spirit, a spirit!’ cried the Fool. ‘He says his name’s Poor Tom.’

Kent went to the door then and stuck his head in. ‘Who are you, grumbling there in the straw?’ he demanded. ‘Come out!’

Edgar emerged, wearing only a loincloth. ‘Go away,’ he whined. ‘the foul fiend follows me. The cold winds blow through the sharp hawthorn.’ He looked Lear up and down. ‘Hmm,’ he said, go to your bed and warm yourself.’

Lear stared at the madman, appalled. ‘Did you give everything to your daughters?’ he said, ‘and have you come to this?’

Edgar shrunk away from him. He said: ‘who gives anything to Poor Tom? Whom the foul fiend has led through fire and flame, through ford and whirlpool, over bog and quagmire: that has put knives under his pillow and hung nooses from his balconies. It’s put rat poison in his porridge, instilled pride into his heart, ridden a bay trotting horse across narrow bridges and chased his own shadow, taking it for a traitor. Bless your five wits!’ He hugged himself and moaned: ‘Tom’s a–cold. Oh, do–de–do–de–do–de.’ He stood up and raised his hand like a priest. ‘Bless you against whirlwinds, shooting stars and all evil things.’ He shrunk back again. ‘Do poor Tom a favour, who the foul fiend is tormenting. I could catch him now.’ He reached out and grasped the air, as though trying to catch an insect.’ ‘Now!’ Then again — ‘and there — and there again — and there!’

No–one said anything for a moment, while the storm raged on unabated. Lear stared at Edgar. ‘What! Have his daughters brought him to this? Could you save nothing? Did you have to give them all?’

‘No, he kept a blanket or we would all have been embarrassed,’ said the Fool.

Lear shook his head sadly. ‘May all the plagues that hang menacingly in the air over men’s faults fall on your daughters,’ he said.

There were tears in his eyes and Kent put his hand gently on his shoulder. ‘He has no daughters, sir,’ he said.

Lear turned on him. ‘Death to you traitor! Nothing could bring a man down so low but his cruel daughters! Is it the latest fashion that fathers should endure such sufferings of their flesh? How apt the punishment is! It was this flesh that begot those pelican daughters.’

‘Pillicock sat on Pillicock hill,’ the fool began, singing the old rhyme, and Edgar came in as a chorus with ‘Alow, alow, loo, loo.’

‘This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen,’ the fool said.


‘Beware of the foul fiend,’ wailed Edgar. ‘Obey your parents. Keep your word. Don’t swear. Don’t sin with another man’s wife. Don’t covet fancy clothes…’ he shivered. ‘Tom’s a–cold.’

‘What were you?’ said Lear.

‘A ladies’ man, proud in heart and mind,’ Edgar said. ‘I curled my hair, wore ladies’ gloves in my hat, satisfied the lust in my mistress’ heart, and went all the way with her. I swore as many oaths as I spoke words and openly broke them. I was one who’s dreams were full of lustful acts and I woke to perform them. I loved wine deeply, gambling dearly, and, regarding women, I out–loved the Turkish sultan. I was deceitful, I listened to gossip, I was violent, a hog in laziness, a fox in stealth, a wolf in greediness, a dog in madness, a lion in ruthlessness. Don’t let the creaking of shoes or the sound of rustling silks arouse your weak heart: keep your feet out of brothels, your hand out of petticoats, your signature from moneylenders’ books, and defy the foul fiend. The cold wind blows through the hawthorn bushes.’ he imitated the sound of the thin wind blowing through the thorny leaves. The he stopped and appeared to see something in front of him. ‘The devil my boy, boy! Shhhhhhhh Let him trot by.’

Lear was still looking at him with great intensity. ‘You’d be better off in a grave than expose your naked body to this extreme weather,’ he said. ‘Is man no more than this? Look at him. You owe the silkworm nothing for its silk, nor the beast for its hide, the sheep for its wool, nor the cat for its perfume. Ha! There are three of us here who are touched by sophistication — you are the genuine thing. Man in his basic form is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as you are.’

Lear got up, suddenly and began tearing his clothes off and throwing them down on the ground. ‘Off, off, you borrowed things!’ he cried. ‘Come, unbutton here!’

‘Please, Nuncle, stop!’ exclaimed the fool. ‘It’s a terrible night to go swimming in.’ He saw a light coming towards them. ‘Now a little fire in a large field is like an old lecher’s heart,’ he said. ‘A small spark of life with all the rest of his body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.’

Edgar covered his face with his arms and moaned softly: ‘This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins at the curfew and walks about until the first cock–crow. He gives cataracts, squints eyes, and makes harelips: mildews the ripening wheat, and hurts the poor creatures of the earth.’

Than he started singing:
‘Saint Withold three times paced his wood,
He met the demon and her brood,
He stopped her dead,
Whacked her over the head,
and “Be off with you witch, be off!” ‘

‘How is Your Grace?’ Kent asked the King.

‘Who’s that?’ said Lear? trying to see through the rain.

‘Who’s there?’ shouted Kent. ‘What are you looking for?’


‘Who are you there?’ called Gloucester. ‘Your names?’

Edgar was still hugging himself, seemingly detached from his surroundings. ‘Poor Tom, who eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall–newt and the water newt,’ he moaned. When the foul fiend rages he’s so alarmed that he eats cow–dung as salad, swallows dead rats and dead dogs, drinks the scum of stagnant pools, who is whipped from tax to tax, put in the stocks, and imprisoned — who’s had three suits and six shirts, a horse to ride and weapons to wear. But mice and rats and such small deer
Have been Tom’s food for seven long year.
Beware of my demon stalker!’ He shook his finger as though reprimanding someone: ‘Shut up, Smulkin, shut up, you fiend!’

Gloucester had been watching Edgar’s display and he shook his head. ‘What, has Your Grace no better company?’

‘The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman,’ said Edgar. ‘Modo, he’s called, and Mahu.’

‘Human beings have become so degenerate, my lord,’ said Gloucester, ‘that they hate their parents now.’

‘Poor Tom’s a–cold,’ wailed Edgar.

Gloucester took Lear’s arm. ‘Come in with me,’ he said. ‘My sense of duty can’t go as far as to obey all your daughters’ harsh orders. ‘Though their instructions are to lock my doors and let this pitiless night deal with you I’ve ventured to look for you and take you to where warmth and food are waiting,’

Lear shook Gloucester’s hand off. ‘First let me consult this philosopher.’ He caught Edgar’s eye. ‘What is the cause of this thunder?’ he said.

‘My dear lord, take his offer,’ Kent urged. ‘Go into the house.’

‘I’ll have a word with this learned scholar,’ Lear said. ‘What’s your subject?’

‘How to defend myself against the fiend, and how to kill vermin.’

Lear went close to Edgar. ‘Let me ask you one word in private.’

Kent put his hand on Gloucester’s shoulder. ‘Beg him once more to go in, my lord. His mind is unravelling.’

‘Can you blame him?’ Gloucester shouted above the hellish noise of a renewed volley of thunderclaps. ‘His daughters are determined to kill him. Ah that good Kent — he said this would happen, poor banished man. You say the King is going mad. I’ll tell you, friend, I’m almost mad myself. I had a son, now disowned by me. He sought my life — recently, very recently. I loved him, friend. No father loved his son more. Quite frankly, the grief of it has crazed my mind. What a night this is!’ He went to where Lear was, shouting in Edgar’s ear. ‘I implore Your Grace…’


Lear looked round. ‘I beg your pardon, sir.’ Then to Edgar — ‘Noble philosopher, please join us.’

‘Tom’s a–cold,’ said Edgar.

‘In, fellow, there,’ said Gloucester, pointing to the door. ‘Into the hovel. Keep yourself warm.’

‘Come, let’s all go in,’ Lear said.

‘This way, my lord,’ Kent said.

Lear put his arm around Edgar. ‘With him,’ he said. ‘I want to be with my philosopher.’

Gloucester went to separate them but Kent stopped him. ‘Humour him, my dear lord,’ he said. ‘Let him take the fellow.’

‘Take him in then,’ said Gloucester.

‘Come on then, sirrah,’ Kent said. ‘Come in with us.’

‘Come good Athenian,’ said Lear, his arm still around Edgar.

Edgar opened his mouth. ‘Don’t speak, don’t speak. Shhhhhh.’ said Gloucester.

Edgar ignored him. ”Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
His word was still: “Fie, fo and fum,
I smell the blood of a British Man.” ‘

They all crouched and entered the shed.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 3, Scene 5

Cornwall waved the letter that he had just read.

‘I’ll have my revenge before I leave his house, ‘he snarled.

‘I don’t want to think about the criticism I may get for putting loyalty before my filial feelings,’ said Edmund.

‘I can see now that it wasn’t only your brother’s evil disposition that made him seek your father’s death: he was provoked by a fatal flaw in his nature.’

‘What bad luck it is that I have to feel guilty about being loyal!’ exclaimed Edmund. ‘This is the letter he mentioned, which proves that he’s spying for France. Oh heavens! I wish that this treason wasn’t happening, nor that I was the one who detected it.’

‘Come with me to the Duchess,’ said Cornwall.

‘If the contents of this letter are true you’ve got some serious business to conduct,’ Edmund said.

‘True or false, it has made you the Earl of Gloucester. Find out where your father is so that we can apprehend him.’

It occurred to Edmund that if he could discover his father helping the King it would make the Duke even more suspicious. ‘I’ll persevere in my path of loyalty,’ he told Cornwall. ‘Even though this conflict of interest is very painful.’

‘I have confidence in you,’ Cornwall said, ‘and you’ll find me a more loving father.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 3, Scene 6

The storm raged: the wind blew viciously through the broken windows of the shack and the rain poured through its broken roof but there was a corner that was relatively dry and Lear huddled there with Edgar and the Fool.

‘This is better than the open air,’ Gloucester said. ‘Be grateful. ‘I’ll make it more comfortable with whatever I can find. I won’t be long.’

Kent nodded towards the King. ‘His reason has given way to passion,’ he said.

Gloucester sighed. He shook his head then made to leave.

‘The gods reward your kindness!’ Kent called after him.

‘Frateretto is calling me and telling me that Nero is an angler in the lake of Hell,’ said Edgar. He grasped the Fool’s arm. ‘Pray, innocent one, and beware the foul fiend.’

‘Tell me Nuncle,’ said the Fool, ‘is a madman a gentleman or a rich man?’

‘A king, a king!’ exclaimed Lear.

‘No,’ the Fool said. ‘He’s a rich man who has a gentleman for a son because it’s only a mad rich man who would see his son become a gentleman before he does.’

Lear muttered to himself: ‘… to have a thousand demons with red–hot pokers come hissing towards them…’

Edgar suddenly began writhing and trying to grab his back. ‘The foul fiend is biting my back!’ he shouted.

‘Anyone who has faith in the tameness of a wolf, a horse’s health, a boy’s love, or a whore’s promise is mad,’ the Fool said.

Lear clamped his jaw in a gesture of firm resolution. ‘I’ll do it!’ he said. ‘I’ll prosecute them right now.
Come sit here, most learned judge,’ he told Edgar. ‘You, wise sir, sit here,’ he told the Fool. ‘Now, you she foxes!’


Edgar got up. He pointed at Lear. ‘Look how he stands and glares!’ He shook his finger at an imaginary witness. ‘Are you showing off before the judge, madam?’ He began singing: ‘Come o’er the bourn, Bessy, to me…’

The Fool continued the song: ‘Her boat has a leak,
And she must not speak
Why she dares not come over to you!’

Edgar laughed hysterically. ‘The foul fiend haunts poor Tom with the voice of a nightingale.’ He rubbed his stomach. ‘Hoppendance is screaming in Tom’s belly for two pickled herrings. Stop croaking, black angel — I haven’t got any food for you.’

Kent knelt beside Lear. He pulled some old sacks that lay on the floor beside them towards the King. ‘How are you, sir? Don’t be so dismayed. Would you like to lie down and rest on these cushions?’

‘I want their trial first,’ said Lear. ‘Bring in the witnesses!’ He nodded at the naked Edgar. ‘You, robed judge, take your position. And you’ — to the Fool — ‘ his learned friend, take your place on the bench beside him.’ To Kent, ‘You are a judge as well. Sit too.’

Edgar sat down on the pile of sacks and looked around with a show of pomposity. ‘Let us conduct this trial justly.’ He started singing:
‘Are you sleeping or awake you jolly shepherd?
Your sheep are in the corn:
And with one blast of your whistling mouth
Your sheep will know no harm.’

He tried to whistle: ‘Purr.’ He gave up: ‘The cat is grey.’

Lear pointed at a non–existent figure standing before them. ‘Charge her first. It’s Goneril. I hereby take my oath before this honourable assembly: she kicked the poor King, her father.’

‘Come here, mistress.’ The Fool spoke sternly. ‘Is your name Goneril?’

‘She can’t deny it,’ said Lear.

The Fool peered into the darkness in front of him. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, ‘I took you for a stool.’ He giggled.

‘And here’s another,’ Lear said. ‘Her ugly looks show what stuff her heart is made of.’ His eyes suddenly darted towards the entrance. ‘Stop her there!’ he shouted. ‘Arms, arms, sword, fire! There’s corruption in this place!’ He looked furiously at Edgar. ‘False judge! Why have you let her escape?’

‘Bless your five wits,’ said Edgar.

Tears were running down Kent’s cheeks. ‘Oh pity,’ he muttered. He touched Lear’s shoulder. ‘Sir, where is the self discipline you’ve prided yourself on?’


Edgar felt that his own tears were threatening to expose him.

‘Even the little dogs…, said Lear. He leant forward and mimed patting some imaginary dogs. ‘Tray, Blanch and Sweetheart — see? They’re barking at me.’

‘Tom will get rid of them,’ said Edgar. ‘Get away, you curs!
Whether your mouth is black or white,
With teeth that poison if they bite:
Mastiff, greyhound, mongrel grim,
Hound or spaniel, bitch or him,
Bobtail tyke or dragging tail:
Tom will make him weep or wail:
For, with throwing thus my head,
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled.
Do, de, de, de. Shhhhh! Come, let’s go to wakes and fairs and market towns. Poor Tom needs a drink.’

‘Then let them dissect Regan to see what’s festering around her heart,’ said Lear. ‘Is there any physical cause that makes these hearts hard? You, sir!’ — to Edgar — ‘I’ll make you one of my hundred. Though I don’t like the fashion of your clothes. ‘You will tell me that they’re Persian, but change them.’

Kent tried again. ‘Now, my dear lord, lie here and rest for a while.’

Lear heard him this time and lay down on the sacks. He yawned and stretched. ‘Don’t make any noise,’ he said. ‘Make no noise. Draw the curtains. That’s right. We’ll go to supper in the morning.’

‘And I’ll go to bed at nine,’ the Fool said.

They dropped into silence. Lear fell asleep.

Gloucester came into the hovel. Kent got up.

‘Come here, friend,’ Gloucester said. ‘Where is the King, my master?’

Kent indicated the sleeping form. ‘Here, sir. But don’t trouble him: his mind has gone.’

‘I beg of you, good friend, take him in your arms. I’ve overheard a plot to assassinate him. There’s a litter ready. Lie him on it and drive to Dover, friend, where you’ll find both welcome and protection. Pick your master up. If you delay half an hour his life, and yours and everyone’s who supports him will be lost. Pick him up, pick him up, and follow me. I’ll direct you to immediate help.’


Kent looked tenderly at his king. ‘You’re getting relief from your oppression in sleep,’ he said softly. ‘This sleep may have soothed your jagged nerves which, if things don’t get better, will be hard to cure.’ He beckoned the Fool. ‘Come, help carry your master. You mustn’t stay behind.’

Come,’ said Gloucester. ‘Come, let’s go.’

They lifted Lear and followed Gloucester.

Edgar, left alone, sank down again on to the sacks and sighed. When we saw our betters suffering such wretchedness it made our own miseries seem mild by comparison. Those who suffer alone are prey to the imagination and become unhappy and miserable. But the mind can get relief when grief and suffering are shared. How light and tolerable his miseries seemed now when he saw the King breaking beneath a burden that only made him bend. The King was suffering from his relationship with his children as he was suffering from his relationship with his father. He addressed himself aloud: ‘Tom, away! Take notice of the rumours of great events. Discard your disguise when the false accusations that have brought you down have been cleared up and you’ve been reconciled to your father. Whatever more may happen tonight, may the King escape to safety! Stay in hiding for the time being.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 3, Scene 7

Cornwall had called Goneril, Regan and Edmund to a council to deal with the problem of Gloucester. ‘Send someone to my lord your husband at once,’ he said. ‘Show him this letter. The French army has landed.’ He turned to some waiting servants. ‘Go and find the traitor Gloucester.’

Regan said: ‘Hang him instantly!’

Goneril said: ‘Blind him!’

‘Leave him to my displeasure,’ Cornwall said. ‘Edmund, go with our sister. The revenge we intend to take on your traitorous father is not fit for you to watch.’ He turned to Goneril. ‘Advise the Duke, when you get back, to prepare for war. We’ll do the same. Our messengers will keep the information going fast between us. Farewell, dear sister.’ To Edmund, ‘Farewell my Lord of Gloucester.’

Oswald came in. ‘Well?’ Cornwall said. ‘Where’s the King?’

‘My Lord of Gloucester has taken him away,’ said Oswald. ‘Some thirty–five or six of his knights, urgently searching for him, met him at the gate and, with some more of the Lord Gloucester’s men, they took him towards Dover, where they claim to have well–armed friends.’

‘Get horses for your mistress,’ said Cornwall.

‘Farewell sweet lord, and sister,’ said Goneril.

Cornwall bowed. He shook Edmund’s hand. ‘Edmund, farewell,’ he said.

Goneril left with Edmund and Oswald.

‘Go and look for the traitor Gloucester,’ Cornwall told some servants. ‘Tie him up like a thief and bring him to us.’

Cornwall paced thoughtfully while Regan kept looking out of the window at the raging storm, the lightening flashing up the woods beyond the castle keep.


‘Though we can’t pass a sentence of death without due process of law we can nevertheless vent our anger on him,’ Cornwall said. ‘People may condemn it but they can’t do anything about it.’

At last there were torches moving towards the castle.

‘Ungrateful fox!’ exclaimed Regan. ‘It’s him.’

Conrnwall’s men brought him in and stood him before their master.

‘Tie his withered arms up,’ Cornwall instructed the servants, who hesitated, looking at each other uncertainly.

‘What do your Graces mean?’ said Gloucester. ‘My dear friends, consider. You’re my guests. Don’t hurt me, friends.’

‘Tie him up, I say!’ demanded Cornwall, and the servants set about it.

‘Tighter, tighter!’ screeched Regan. ‘Oh you filthy traitor!’

‘Merciless lady that you are.’ Gloucester spoke defiantly. ‘I’m not!’

‘Tie him to this chair.’ Cornwall pushed him on to the chair. ‘Villain, you will find…’

Regan stood in front of Gloucester and yanked his beard.

‘By the kind gods, that’s disrespectful, to pull my beard!’ exclaimed Gloucester, struggling against the efforts to tie him to the chair.

Regan shuffled the hairs from her fingers. ‘So white and such a traitor!’ she exclaimed.

‘Unworthy lady, these hairs that you’ve snatched from my chin will come to life and accuse you. I am your host. You shouldn’t abuse my hospitality with robbers’ hands. What are you going to do?’

‘Come, sir.’ Cornwall pulled up another chair and straddled it, facing his prisoner. ‘What letters have you received recently from France?’

‘The straight truth: we know everything,’ said Regan.

‘And what contact have you had with the traitors who’ve just landed in the kingdom?’ Cornwall said.

‘Who have you sent the lunatic King to?’ said Regan. ‘Tell us!’

‘I had a letter written in a kind of questioning way, from someone who’s not on anyone’s side — not from an enemy.’

‘Cunning!’ accused Cornwall.

‘And a lie!’ exclaimed his wife.


Where have you sent the King?’ Cornwall demanded.

‘To Dover.’

‘Why to Dover? Weren’t you told to your peril…’

‘Why to Dover?’ interrupted Regan. ‘Let him answer that.’

‘I’m tied to the stake and I have to endure it,’ muttered Gloucester between his teeth.

Regan advanced threateningly. ‘Why to Dover?’

‘Because I couldn’t bear to see your cruel nails pluck out his poor old eyes, nor your fierce sister stick her boarish fangs into his anointed flesh. The seas themselves would have risen up and quenched the stars’ fires if faced with such a storm as his bare head endured in this hell–black night. Yet, poor old man, he joined the heaven in its rage. If wolves had howled at your gate at that dreadful time you would have said, “Good porter, unlock the gate.” All other cruel creatures have at least that much compassion but I will see divine vengeance overtake such children as you are.’

‘See it you never will!’ Regan beckoned the servants. ‘Fellows, hold the chair. I’ll stamp my foot on those eyes of yours!’

Gloucester, feeling the violence coming his way, began to struggle. ‘Any one of you who hopes to live to be old help me!’

Cornwall pushed the chair over so that Gloucester lay on his back, still bound to it. He lifted his foot and brought it down hard on Gloucester’s face, grinding the heel of his boot in Gloucester’s eye.’

Gloucester yelped as the blood flowed. ‘Oh, cruel! Oh gods!’

‘One side will make a mockery of the other,’ said Regan. ‘The other too.’

Cornwall raised his foot again. ‘If you see vengeance…’

He was interrupted by one of the servants, who had had enough. ‘Hold your hand, my lord,’ he said, coming between Cornwall and the moaning Gloucester. ‘I’ve served you ever since I was a child but I’ve never done you better service than now, in telling you to stop.’

‘What, you dog!’ Regan tried to push him away.

The man glared at her. ‘If you were a man I’d shake your beard over this,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’ she said.

Cornwall drew his sword. ‘You villain!’


‘Alright then,’ the servant said. Come on and take your chance against my anger.’ He drew his sword.

The fight was short and vicious and within a few seconds Cornwall lay wounded on the floor. Regan ran to another servant. ‘Give me your sword!’ She snatched it out of the man’s scabbard. ‘A peasant to rebel like this?’ She rushed at the servant standing over Cornwall and plunged the sword into his back.

The man fell forward across the dying Cornwall. ‘Oh, I’m killed,’ he said. He strained himself to turn and look at Gloucester. ‘My lord, you have one eye left to see him die. Oh!’ Then he fell back and lay still.

‘In case it sees more I’ll prevent it,’ said Regan. She leant over and sank her nails into Gloucester’s remaining eye and pulled it out. ‘Out, vile jelly!’ she cried. She threw the eyeball on to the floor and crunched it beneath her foot. ‘Where is your lustre now?’

Gloucester groaned. ‘All dark and comfortless. Where’s my son Edmund? Edmund, kindle all the sparks of nature to revenge this horrid act!’

‘Nonsense, treacherous villain!’ exclaimed Regan. ‘You’re calling on someone who hates you. It was he who reported your treason to us. He’s too good to pity you!’

‘Oh, my follies!’ Gloucester cried. ‘Then Edgar’s been abused. Kind gods, forgive me for that and make him prosper!’

‘Go and throw him out at the gates,’ Regan told a servant. ‘Let him smell his way to Dover.’

One of them untied Gloucester and dragged him out. Regan went to her husband. ‘How are you, my lord. How are you feeling?’ She helped him up.

‘I’ve received a wound,’ he gasped. ‘Follow me, lady. ‘Turn that eyeless villain out. And throw this slave…’ — he kicked the dead servant — ‘on the dunghill. Regan, I’m bleeding badly. This injury has come at the wrong time. Give me your arm.’ He limped off, helped by Regan.

The two remaining servants looked at each other, dazed. ‘I don’t care what wickedness I do if this man comes to any good,’ one of them said.

‘If she has a long life and dies of old age all women will turn into monsters,’ the other said.

‘Let’s follow the old Earl and get the lunatic to guide him where he wants to go,’ the first one said. ‘His madness allows him to do whatever he likes.’

‘You go,’ the other said. ‘I’ll fetch some flax and whites of eggs to make a plaster for his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him!’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 4, Scene 1

It was better this way. The storm had blown itself out and Edgar wandered around in the vicinity of the hut, deep in thought. It was better to be openly despised than subjected to flattery — that was far worse. The most lowly and dejected victim of ill fortune could still hope, and so didn’t live in fear. The worst thing was to fail to appreciate the good things but when one was at rock–bottom matters could only improve. So he welcomed the formless air that embraced him. His thoughts went to the King. The man those elements had made such a wretch of owed nothing to their fierce winds, however.

Someone was coming.

Was that his father, led by an old peasant? Oh world, world, world! We would never age and die if it weren’t for your erratic behaviour.

He crept closer and crouched down so that he could hear what they were saying.

‘Oh my dear lord,’ the old man was saying. ‘I’ve been your tenant and your father’s tenant these eighty years.’

‘Away, go away,’ Gloucester said. He made a feeble shooing gesture. ‘Good friend, be gone. Your help can do me no good at all. And they may hurt you.’

‘You can’t see your way,’ the old man said.

‘I have no way, and so I don’t need any eyes. I stumbled when I saw. Prosperity usually makes us feel secure so setbacks teach us something. Ah, dear son Edgar, the object of your abused father’s anger, if I could only live to see you by touching you I’d say I had my eyes back.’

Edgar stood up.

‘Hello!’ the old man called. ‘Who’s there?’

Edgar was weeping. Oh gods! Who could ever say that one had hit rock–bottom? He was lower than he had ever been.

The old man came close. ‘It’s poor mad Tom,’ he said.

And he may sink even lower, he thought. It wasn’t the lowest while one could still tell oneself it was the lowest.

The old man put his hand on Edgar’s shoulder. ‘Fellow, where are you off to?’

‘Is it a beggar man?’ said Gloucester.

‘Madman and beggar, too,’ the old man said.

‘He must have some reason or he wouldn’t be able to beg,’ Gloucester said. ‘In last night’s storm I saw a fellow like this, which made me think that man is no more than a worm. My son came into my mind even though I was feeling anger towards him. I have had new information since then. To the gods we are like flies are to naughty boys: they kill us just for fun.’

Edgar could see the state of his father’s face now, and he wondered what had happened. This wasn’t the right situation in which to pretend to be an idiot — it was unfair to both.

‘Bless you master!’ he said.

‘Is that the naked fellow?’ Gloucester said.

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Then I would beg you to go now,’ Gloucester said. ‘If, in your concern for me, you catch up with us a mile or two from here, on the road to Dover, do it because of our long association. And bring some clothes for this naked soul, whom I’ll ask to guide me.’

The old man was reluctant. ‘Alas, sir, he’s mad.’

‘It’s a sign of our fallen times that madmen lead the blind.’ When the old man hesitated Gloucester insisted. ‘Do as I tell you, or if not, do as you like. Above all, go!’

‘I’ll bring him the best clothes I’ve got — no matter what the consequences are.’ The old man left them.

‘Sirrah!’ Gloucester felt about at the air around him. ‘Naked fellow!’

‘Poor Tom’s a–cold,’ wailed Edgar. He couldn’t keep it up. But he had to.

‘Come here fellow.’

‘Bless your sweet eyes. They’re bleeding.’

‘Do you know the way to Dover?’


‘All the ways — stile and gate, bridle path and foot–path. Poor Tom has been scared out of his wits. Bless you, laddie, from the foul fiend! Five demons have been in Poor Tom at the same time. Obidicut, the lustful one: Hoberdidance, the prince of dumbness: Mahu, of theft: Modo, of murder: Flibbertigibbet, of face–pulling: who have all since possessed chambermaids and serving wenches. So, bless you, master.’

Gloucester untied his purse from around his waist. ‘Here, take this purse,’ he said, ‘you who have been brought right down by fortune’s worst strokes. My wretchedness is worse than yours. May the heavens continue to deal in that way. May the man who has too much and is too self–indulgent — who abuses your bounty and refuses to see things because he doesn’t himself experience them — feel your immediate power! Distributing what you give us more evenly would remedy excess, giving each man enough. Do you know Dover?’

‘Yes, master.’

‘There is a cliff whose high and bowed head looks fearfully into the churning sea below. Just take me to the very edge of it and I’ll remedy your misery with something valuable that I have on me. I won’t need any guide from there.’

‘Give me your arm,’ said Edgar. ‘Poor Tom will guide you.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 4, Scene 2

When Goneril and Edmund arrived at the gates of Goneril’s castle they got out of the coach and waited for the servants whose job it was to escort them through to the palace.

‘Welcome, my lord,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised that my mild–mannered husband didn’t meet us on the way.’ Oswald appeared and she snapped: ‘Where’s your master?’

‘Madam, he’s indoors, but never has a man changed so much,’ Oswald said. ‘I told him about the army that’s landed. He smiled at it. I told him you were coming. His reply was, “so much the worse for that!” When I told him about Gloucester’s treachery, and about the loyal services of his son he called me a cretin and told me I had got it inside out. The things he should most frown at seem pleasing to him, and what he should like, offensive.’

Goneril’s face showed her anger. She turned to Edmund. ‘Then you mustn’t come in,’ she told him. ‘It’s the cowardliness of his nature — it won’t allow him to engage: he will never commit himself. But the hopes we talked about on the way here may still come to fruition. Go back, Edmund, to my brother : speed up his recruitment and take charge of his army. I’ll have to swap our marriage roles and give my husband the spinning–wheel. This trusty servant will go between us. Soon you will receive a mistress’ command, if you dare to take the opportunity of doing yourself a favour.’ She removed a chain from which hung a locket with her picture in it from around her neck. ‘Wear this.’ He opened his mouth and she put her fingers over his lips. ‘Shh Don’t say anything. Lower your head.’ She placed the chain around his neck then kissed him. ‘This kiss, if it dared to speak, would boost your spirits to the skies. Think about me, and goodbye.’

Edmund took her hand and kissed it. ‘Yours to the death,’ he whispered.

‘My dearest Gloucester,’ she said softly.

He got back into the carriage. Goneril watched it disappear. She sighed. Oh what a difference there was between one man and another. Edmund deserved what a woman had to give. She had a fool in her bed!

Oswald’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Madam, here comes my lord,’ he said as he started walking back to the palace.

Goneril glared at her husband. ‘You once thought I was worth taking some trouble about!’


‘Oh Goneril!’ he exclaimed. ‘You aren’t worth the dust that the harsh wind blows in your face! I don’t trust you. One can’t have confidence in a person who can do that to a parent. A woman who insists on cutting herself off from the trunk of the family tree must necessarily wither and die.’

‘Enough!’ she said. ‘Your sermon is stupid.’

‘Wisdom and goodness seem vile to the vile,’ he persisted. ‘Filth can appreciate only filth. What have you done? Tigers, not daughters: what do you think you’re doing? A father and a gracious elderly man, whose reverence even a captive bear would respond to. You have driven him mad in the most barbarous and degenerate way. How could my good brother have allowed you to do it? A man — a prince — who owed him so much! If the gods don’t send their angels down soon to punish these vile offences what will happen is that human beings will eat each other like monsters of the sea.’

‘Lily–livered man!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve got a cheek for slapping, a head for taking punches. You can’t tell the difference between what you can tolerate and how much you’re prepared to suffer. You don’t understand that only fools pity those villains who are punished before they’ve committed their crimes. Where are your military preparations? France is raising his flag in our unprotesting land: military defeat threatens your country while you, a moral fool, just sit there crying. “Alas, why is he doing that?” ‘

‘Take a look at yourself, devil!’ he exclaimed. ‘Depravity is an even worse spectacle in a woman than in the devil!’

‘Oh, you ridiculous fool!’

Albany was finding it hard to control himself in the face of his wife’s scornful sneer. ‘You changed and self–deceiving thing! For shame! Stop that monstrous sneering. If I were to let my hands obey my anger they would break your bones and tear your flesh from them. However fiendish you are your woman’s form protects you.’

‘Really! As for your manhood…’

A messenger interrupted them and Albany turned and snapped: ‘What news!’

‘Oh my dear lord, the Duke of Cornwall’s dead: killed by his servant as he was about to put Gloucester’s other eye out.’

‘Gloucester’s eyes!’ exclaimed Albany.

The messenger told him what had happened: ‘One of his own servants, overwhelmed by his shocked feelings, objected to it and raised his sword against his great master who, enraged by that, flew at him and struck him dead, but not before the man had given him a mortal wound that eventually killed him.’

Albany faced upwards. ‘This shows that you are up there, you judges, who can avenge our earthly crimes so speedily! But oh, poor Gloucester! Did he lose his other eye?’

‘Both, both, my lord.’ The messenger gave Goneril a letter. ‘This letter, madam, requires a speedy answer. It’s from your sister.’


Goneril’s mind was in turmoil. In one way she liked what was happening. However, Regan was a widow now and if Goneril’s Edmund was there it may bring the structure of her dreams crashing down. But looking at it another way it wasn’t such bad news. ‘I’ll read it and give you my answer,’ she told the messenger and walked to the palace door.

‘Where was his son when they took his eyes out?’ said Albany.

‘On his way here with my lady,’ the messenger said.

Albany looked around. ‘He isn’t here,’ he said.

‘No, my dear lord, I met him on his way back.’

‘Does he know about this wickedness?’

‘Yes, my good lord. It was he who informed against him, and he left the house on purpose so that their punishment could be more freely performed.’

Albany made a silent vow. He would live to thank him for the love he had shown the King, and to revenge his eyes. He turned and began walking back to the palace. ‘Come with me, friend,’ he said. ‘Tell me what more you know.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 4, Scene 3

Kent was in the French camp near Dover. He had found the gentleman he had sent to give a true account of the events surrounding the King.

‘Do you know why the King of France has suddenly gone back to his kingdom?’ he said.

‘He had some unfinished business back home that came to the forefront since coming here: it was something with such threatening implications that his personal attendance was vital and necessary.’

‘Who has he left here in charge?’

‘The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far.’

‘Did your letters move the Queen to any demonstration of grief?’

‘Yes sir,’ the gentleman said. ‘She took them and read them in my presence, and every now and then a large tear trickled down her delicate cheek. It struck me that she was a queen over her emotions which, like rebels, battled to be king over her.’

‘Oh, then it moved her.’ Kent nodded.

‘Not to anger. Self control and sorrow contested each other as to which should express her better. You have seen sunshine and rain at the same time: her smiles and tears were like that, but more beautiful. The happy little smiles that played on her rosy lips seemed unaware of those visitors in her eyes, which fell from them like pearls dropping from diamonds. To cut a long story short, sorrow would be a precious commodity if it became everyone as it became her.’

‘Did she ask any questions?’

‘Oh yes.’ The gentleman nodded vigorously. ‘Once or twice she breathed the name “father”, as though it were pressing on her heart: cried “Sisters! Sisters! Disgrace to their sex! Sisters! Kent! Father! Sisters! What! In the storm! In the night? In the name of pity, I don’t believe it!” And at that she allowed her holy tears to fall from her heavenly eyes then, her storm damped, she went off to deal with her grief alone.’

Kent’s eyes were moist as he listened. ‘It is the stars,’ he said. ‘The stars above us are responsible for our characters. Otherwise two parents couldn’t beget such different offspring. You haven’t spoken to her since?’

‘No.’

‘Was that before the King returned?’

‘No, since.’

‘Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear’s in the town. Sometimes, in his more rational moments, he remembers why we’ve come to Dover, and won’t in any circumstances consent to see his daughter.’

‘Why, dear sir?’

‘A great shame elbows him away. His own unkindness — depriving her of his blessing: turning her out to the mercy of foreign lands: giving her dowry to his pitiless daughters — these things sting his mind so venomously that burning shame keeps him away from Cordelia.’

‘Alas, poor man,’ the gentleman said.

‘You haven’t heard anything of the armies of Albany and Cornwall?’

‘Yes,’ the gentleman said. ‘They’re on the march.’

‘Well, sir,’ said Kent, ‘I’ll take you to our master, Lear, and leave you to look after him. I’m going to be tied up in some important business for a while. When you find out who I am you won’t be sorry you’ve helped me. Please. Come with me.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 4, Scene 4

Cordelia called the camp doctor to the royal tent.

‘Alas,’ she said, ‘it’s he. He was found, just now, as mad as the vexed sea, singing aloud. He wore a crown of fumiter and ditch weeds — burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo–flowers, darnel, and all the worthless weeds that grow among our life–giving corn. Send a company out,’ she told an officer. ‘Search every acre of the crop–filled field and bring him to our sight.’

The officer left to carry our her instructions and she sighed. ‘What can human knowledge do to restore his lost senses? I would give all I own to the man who can help him.’

‘There is a way, madam,’ the doctor said. ‘Sleep is the healing nurse of Nature and he’s lacking that. There are many herbal remedies that have the power of putting his pain to sleep.’

‘May all the blessed secrets and unknown remedies of the earth grow from my tears,’ she said. ‘Be helpful and remedial in the dear man’s distress! Look, look for him lest this uncontrolled rage kills him.’

A messenger was shown in. ‘News, madam,’ he said. ‘The British forces are marching this way.’

‘We knew that already,’ she said. ‘We’ve already made our preparations in anticipation. Oh, dear father, it’s your business that I’m conducting. That’s why my royal lord, France, has taken pity on my sad and pleading tears. It isn’t swollen ambition that has roused us to war, but love, dear love, and our aged father’s rights. May I soon hear and see him!’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 4, Scene 5

Regan had taken up permanent residence in Gloucester’s castle, using it as her headquarters. Oswald had come from Goneril to keep her informed of how things were going in his mistress’ section of the kingdom.

‘But have my brother’s troops set out?’ Regan was saying.

‘Yes madam,’ said Oswald.

‘And he’s gone in person?’

Oswald smiled. ‘Madam, with a great deal of fuss about it. Your sister is the better soldier.’

‘And Lord Edmund didn’t speak to your lord when he was there?’

‘No, madam.’

Oswald had been holding a letter all this time and Regan had been eying it.

‘What’s in my sister’s letter to him?’ she said.

‘I don’t know, lady.

‘Well, he’s gone away on some serious business. It was stupid to let Gloucester live once he had been blinded: wherever he goes he turns everyone’s heart against us. I think Edmund’s gone to put him out of his misery, and also to determine the strength of the enemy.’

‘I must go after him, madam, with my letter.’

‘Our troops are leaving tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Stay with us — the roads are dangerous.’

‘I can’t, madam. My lady has given me a special mission to do this.’


‘Why should she write to Edmund? Couldn’t you just have delivered her message by word? Probably… something… I don’t know what… I’d be very much obliged to you… Let me open the letter.’

‘Madam, I’d rather…’

Regan’s eyes pleaded. She put her hand on his arm. ‘I know your lady doesn’t love her husband,’ she said. ‘I’m sure about that: and when she was last here she was casting knowing glances and most significant looks at most noble Edmund. I know she’s taken you into her confidence.’

‘I, madam!’

‘I know what I’m talking about.’ Regan didn’t take her eyes off the letter. ‘She has. I know it. I therefore advise you to listen carefully. My husband is dead: Edmund and I have discussed this, and he’s more appropriate for me than he is for your lady. I think you understand me.’ She took a ring off her finger and gave it to Oswald. ‘If you find him please give him this. And when your mistress has heard what I’ve told you I would like you to advise her to be reasonable. So goodbye then. If you should happen to hear of that blind traitor, there’s promotion for the one who cuts him off.’

‘I wish I could encounter him madam,’ he said. ‘I’d show where my loyalties lie.’

‘Goodbye,’ Regan said.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 4, Scene 6

Gloucester and Edgar were approaching Dover. Edgar had managed to get some clothes from a peasant: anyone seeing them would have taken them for a couple of rustics. They moved slowly, Edgar helping his father across the sandy fields. Gloucester stopped.

‘When will we get to the top of that hill?’

‘You’re climbing it now,’ Edgar said. ‘See how we’re labouring.’

‘I think the ground is even,’ the old man said.

‘Horribly steep,’ said Edgar. ‘Listen, can you hear the sea?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well, I suppose your other senses are growing imperfect because of the pain in your eyes.’

‘That may be so, actually,’ Gloucester said. ‘I think your voice has changed and you’re speaking with more sophistication than you did before.’

‘You’re very much mistaken,’ said Edgar. ‘I haven’t changed at all, except for my clothes.’
‘I think you’re better spoken.’

‘Come on, sir.’ Edgar took his father’s hand and pulled him gently. ‘This is the place. Stand still.’

Edgar had stopped in the middle of a field — flat for as far as the eye could see. ‘How terrifying and dizzying it is to cast one’s eyes so far down!’ he said. ‘The crows and jackdaws that fly between here and the bottom look hardly as big as beetles. Halfway down there’s a man clinging to the cliff–side, gathering sea pickle. What a dreadful job! He appears to me no bigger than the size of his head. The fishermen walking on the beach look like mice and that tall anchored ship out there is reduced to the size of her lifeboat, her lifeboat to the size of a buoy, almost too small to see. From this height we can’t hear the murmuring breakers that chafe the millions of useless pebbles. I won’t look anymore in case it makes me dizzy and the blur causes me to topple headlong down.’


‘Help me to where you’re standing,’ Gloucester said.

‘Give me your hand.’ Edgar drew his father towards him. ‘You are now within a foot of the extreme verge. I wouldn’t jump about for all that lies beneath the moon.’

‘Let go my hand.’ Gloucester untied a small bag from around his waist. ‘Here, friend — it’s another purse. In it there’s a jewel worth something to a poor man. May fortune bring you the enjoyment of it. Go further off. Say farewell and let me hear you leaving.’

‘Well goodbye, good sir,’ said Edgar.

‘With all my heart.’

Edgar started walking. He stopped when he was a short distance away from the distressed old man and watched him. He didn’t like seeing his father in such a state of misery but the reason he was allowing it to continue was so that he could help him and make things better for him.

Gloucester knelt down. He clasped his hands together and turned his face to the sky. ‘Oh you mighty gods! I renounce this world and in your sight shuffle off my great suffering without complaint. Even if I could bear it any longer and not fall into a quarrel with your great unchallengeable decrees the wick and butt–end of my loathesome life would burn itself out. If Edgar is alive, oh bless him!’ He struggled to his feet. He turned and called: ‘Now, fellow, fare you well!’

‘Gone, sir. Farewell,’ Edgar called.

Gloucester stood, swaying for a moment, then he took a step and made a movement as though throwing himself forward, and he fell frontwards on to the ground.

Edgar started walking slowly towards him. It was interesting how one could delude oneself into death when the will to live has evaporated. If the old man had been where he thought he was (on the edge of a high cliff) all thought would be past. Was he alive or dead? ‘Hey, you sir,’ he said loudly. ‘Friend! Can you hear me sir? Say something.’ When Gloucester lay silent and unmoving, his face pressed against the ground, Edgar thought for a moment that he may indeed have died. He shook the old man, who stirred and moaned. He was recovering. Edgar changed his voice again, making it more coarse, and assumed a local accent, conveying the idea that he was a fisherman from the beach at the foot of the cliff. ‘Who are you, sir?’

‘Go away and let me die,’ moaned Gloucester.

‘If you had been anything other than gossamer, feathers or air, after falling from such a height you would have shattered like an egg! But you are breathing, and intact. You’re not bleeding, you can speak and you’re in good shape. The masts of ten ships wouldn’t be enough to measure the height you’ve fallen. It’s a miracle you’ve survived. Say something more.’

‘Have I fallen or not?’


‘From the very top of this chalky cliff,’ Edgar said. ‘Look up there. One can’t even hear the shrill–voiced lark from here. Just look up!’

Gloucester shook his head. ‘Alas, I have no eyes! Is wretchedness deprived of the benefit of ending itself by death? There was at least some comfort when misery could deflect the tyrant’s rage and frustrate his high ambitions.’

Edgar started helping him to his feet. ‘Give me your arm. Up, so. How are you doing? Can you feel your legs? Ah, you’re standing.’

‘Too well, too well,’ Gloucester said.

‘This is amazing,’ said Edgar. ‘What was that thing that left you on the edge of the cliff?’

‘A poor unfortunate beggar.’

‘As I stood here below I thought his eyes were two full moons: he had a thousand noses and horns that twisted and waved like the writhing sea. It was some fiend. Therefore, you lucky old man, it’s obvious that the righteous gods, honoured for performing the impossible, have preserved you.’

‘I remember now,’ said Gloucester. ‘From now on I’ll bear my suffering until it cries out “enough, enough” and lets me die. The thing you’re talking about — I thought it was a man. It often said “the fiend, the fiend.” He led me to that place.’

‘Try and forget about it,’ Edgar told him.

A man, dressed in tatters with wild flowers projecting from the gaps in the rags and woven into his untrimmed beard and hair, was coming towards them — slowly, tacking across the field.

‘Who’s this coming here?’ said Edgar. ‘A sane man would never walk around like this.’

The man laughed. ‘No,’ he said, decisively. ‘They could never get me for counterfeiting. I am the King himself!’

Edgar recognised him and he was filled with pity. ‘Oh, what a heart–breaking sight!’

Lear pointed at him. ‘Nature is above art in that respect,’ he said. ‘Take your King’s shilling!’ He assumed the posture of a general on the battlefield. ‘That fellow is handling his bow like a scarecrow. Draw that bowstring out a full yard!’ He looked down at his feet and began jumping about. ‘Look, look, a mouse!’ he shouted. ‘Sh! Sh! This piece of toasted cheese will do it!’ He tore a piece of cheese off an imaginary chunk and threw it down. ‘There’s my gauntlet. I’ll challenge a giant as well. Bring out the pike men!’ He moved his head as though watching a flying arrow. ‘Oh, well done, bird. In the bull’s eye, in the bull’s eye. Whtttt!’ He looked directly at Edgar. ‘Give the password.’

‘Sweet marjoram,’ Edgar said.

‘Pass.’ Lear stepped aside as though to allow them to pass.


‘I know that voice,’ said Gloucester.

Lear peered at the pathetic figure before him — ragged, thin, pale, with empty, bloody eye–sockets. ‘Ah!’ he exclaimed. ‘Goneril with a white beard! They flattered me like a dog, and told me I had the white hairs in my beard before the black ones were there. Saying “yes” and “no” to everything I said! “Yes” and “no” isn’t good theology. Once when the rain came down to drench me and the wind to make me shiver, when the thunder wouldn’t stop when I ordered it to, that’s where I discovered them — that’s where I smelt them out. Go on, they are not men of their words. They told me I was invincible. It’s a lie, I am not immune to illness.’

‘I remember that tone of voice very well,’ Gloucester said. ‘Aren’t you the King?’

‘Yes, every inch a king! When I focus my attention on a man just watch him quake!’ Lear pointed to an imaginary figure. ‘I pardon that man’s life. What was your crime? Adultery? You shall not die. Die for adultery! Never: the wren goes to it, and the small golden fly lechers before my very eyes. Let copulation thrive! Because Gloucester’s bastard son was kinder to his father than my daughters conceived between legitimate sheets. Get down to it, lust, right on! I need more soldiers. Look at that pure–looking woman whose face suggests snow, who looks so virtuous, who shakes her head in disapproval at any mention of sex. Neither polecat nor stallion go at it with such sexual appetite. From the waist down they are Centaurs although they’re women above. The gods control us only to the belt, below it it all belongs to the devil.’ A look of horror came into Lear’s eyes. ‘There’s hell!’ he cried. ‘There’s darkness. There is the sulphurous pit — burning, scalding. Stench, decay — ugh, ugh, ah, ugh arrrr! Give me an ounce of perfume, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination. Here’s money for you.’

He sank to the ground. Gloucester went down on his knees. He felt around and found the King’s hand. ‘Let me kiss that hand,’ he said.

Lear withdrew the hand. ‘Let me wipe it first — it smells of death.’ He wiped his hand exaggeratedly on his ragged tunic.

‘Oh what a wrecked man!’ exclaimed Gloucester. ‘This great world will come to an end just like this. Do you know me?’

Lear peered at his face. ‘I remember your eyes well enough,’ he said. ‘Are you squinting at me? No, do your worst, blind Cupid — I won’t love again.’ He unrolled an imaginary scroll. ‘Read this challenge. Just look at the way it’s written.’

‘If the letters shone out like suns I wouldn’t be able to see them.’

Edgar looked on sadly. If anyone had told him about this he wouldn’t have believed it — it was breaking his heart.

‘Read!’ Lear said.

‘What, with only holes for eyes?’

‘Oh ho!’ Lear shook his finger in reprimand. ‘Is that what you’re up to? No eyes in your head and no money in your purse? Your eyes are in a heavy state and your purse in a light one and yet you can see how the world works.’


‘I see it by feeling.’

‘What! Are you mad? A man may see how the world works without eyes! Look with your ears. See how that magistrate over there reprimands that humble thief. A word in your ear. Change places and — see if you can tell — which one is the magistrate and which the thief? You’ve seen a farmer’s dog bark at a beggar?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And the wretch run away from the cur? You see the great image of Authority in that. A dog’s obeyed in office.’ He stopped to admonish another imaginary character in his private drama. ‘You rascally constable — hold your blood–soaked hand! Why are you lashing that whore? Flay the skin off your own back: you’re lusting hotly to do to her what you’re whipping her for! The major offender hangs the minor one. Small offences show more obviously through tattered clothes: robes and furred gowns hide everything. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice breaks without making a dent: cover it with rags and the tiny spear of a pigmy pierces it. No–one sins. No–one, I tell you, no–one. I’ll guarantee them. Take that from whence it comes, friend, from me, who has the power to silence all accusers. Get some glass eyes and, like a vile politician, pretend to see the things that you can’t.’ He sat up and addressed an imaginary servant. ‘Now, now, now, now. Pull off my boots. Harder, harder, that’s it.’

It all struck Edgar as being a combination of sense and absurdity. It was reason in madness.

Lear touched one of Gloucester’s eye sockets gently. ‘If you want to weep for your misfortune take my eyes,’ he said softly. ‘I know you well enough — your name is Gloucester. You must be patient. We came here crying: you know that the first time we smell the air we wail and cry. I’ll preach to you. Listen.’

Gloucester cried without tears. Lear continued. ‘When we’re born we cry because we’ve come to this great stage of fools.’ He looked about on the ground as though searching for something then spoke: ‘This is a good block.’ He kicked the tree stump then climbed up and stood precariously on its flat surface. ‘It would be a good idea to shoe a troop of horses with felt. I’ll try it. And when I have stolen up on these sons–in–law, then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!’

The officer Cordelia had sent to find him approached them with a group of soldiers. Lear jumped down and held his hands out as though to surrender.

‘Here he is,’ the officer said. ‘Get hold of him. Sir, your most dear daughter…’

‘No rescue?’ said Lear. ‘What! A prisoner! I have always been unlucky. Treat me well. You’ll get a ransom. Get me to a doctor: I’m cut to the brain.’

‘You shall have anything you want,’ the officer said.

‘No followers? All by myself? Why this would turn a man to salt, to use his eyes for garden watering cans. , yes, to lay the dust of autumn. I will die in high style, like a bridegroom showing off. What! I’ll be jovial. Come, come, I am a king, masters. Do you know that?’


‘You are a monarch and we obey you,’ the gentleman said.

‘Then there’s still hope,’ said Lear. ‘Come on, if you want it you’ll have to run for it. Sa, sa, sa, sa!’ He ran off like a child and the soldiers chased after him.

The officer watched. He sighed. It would be a most pitiful sight in the meanest wretch: beyond words in a king. He spoke under his breath: ‘You have one daughter who redeems nature from the universal curse which her two sisters have invoked on her.’

The officer had ignored Edgar and Gloucester until now, but now he looked at them.

‘Greetings, sir,’ said Edgar.

‘Sir, to you, too,’ the officer replied. ‘How can I help you?’

‘Have you heard anything, sir, of a coming battle?’

‘Certainly,’ the officer said. ‘It’s common knowledge. Everyone who has his hearing has heard of it.’

‘But, if you don’t mind my asking, how near is the other army?’

‘Very near, and advancing fast. We’ll see the main body at any time.’

‘Thank you, sir, that’s all.’

‘Though the Queen is here for a special purpose, her army has moved on.’

Edgar bowed. ‘Thank you, sir.’

They could see Lear in the distance. He had stopped and the soldiers were keeping him company. The officer set off towards them.

Gloucester was praying to the merciful gods to take his life. He prayed that he wouldn’t be tempted to take his own life again before they willed it. Edgar put his had on his shoulder. ‘Well prayed, old man,’ he said.

‘Now, dear sir, who are you?’ Gloucester said.

‘A very poor man, bowed by misfortune, who because I have suffered deep sorrows, am disposed towards pity. Give me your hand: I’ll take you to some shelter.’

‘Hearty thanks, and in addition to that may you receive the bounty of heaven.’

Someone else was coming. He was riding along the path towards Dover and when he saw them he drew his horse up. Then he left the path and came towards them. When he was within a few yards he stopped. He let out a whoop. ‘This man carries a reward for his life!’ he exclaimed. ‘What luck!’ Ignoring Edgar, he jumped from his horse and grabbed Gloucester by the shoulders. ‘That eyeless head of yours was created only to make my fortune. Say your prayers, you wretched old traitor.’ He drew his sword. ‘The sword is out that will destroy you.’ He stepped back and withdrew his arm, making ready to thrust.

Gloucester pushed his chest out. He ripped the front of his gown to reveal his flesh. ‘Now put some force into your friendly hand,’ he said.

Edgar stepped in front of him. The assailant addressed him angrily: ‘What do you think you doing, you impertinent peasant, defending a declared traitor? Go, before your association with him brings the same fate.’

Edgar took his father’s arm and began moving him away.

‘Let go his arm,’ the assailant threatened.

‘Oil nat let go zir, without better reason,’ said Edgar.

The man pointed his sword at him. ‘Let go, slave, or you die!’

‘Good gentleman, go your gait and let poor volk pass,’ said Edgar. ‘If oi cud ha’ bin cheated out of moi loif oi’d ave lost it a vortnight ago.’

The man took a step closer and Edgar came in front of his father again. ‘Nay come not near the old man,’ he said. ‘Keep away, oi tell you or oi’ll try which is ‘arder — your ‘ead or my stick. Oi’ll be plain with you.’

‘Get away you shitpile!’ the man said.

‘Oi’ll pick your teeth, zir. Oi aint scared of your sword strokes.’

The assailant made a thrust at Edgar, who raised his stick and vigorously beat off the attack. The man tried again and once again met with stiff resistance. Then Edgar landed a powerful blow to the man’s head. He fell down, blood flowing profusely. He lay on the ground, moaning. Edgar recognised him as Goneril’s servant, Oswald.

‘Wretch,’ he gasped. ‘You’ve killed me. Villain, take my purse. If you have ever hoped to thrive, bury my body and give the letters you’ll find on me to Edmund, Earl of Gloucester. Look for him among the English party.’ He lay back, grimacing. ‘What a bad time to die! Death!’ He lay still, his eyes staring.

‘I know you well,’ Edgar said. ‘A scurrilous villain, as obliging to the vices of your mistress as evil could desire.’

‘What, is he dead?’ said Gloucester.

‘Sit down and rest, father. Let’s have a look at these pockets: the letters that he mentioned may do me some good.’ He started searching through the pockets. ‘Yes, he’s dead. I’m only sorry he didn’t have some other executioner.’ He found a letter. ‘Let’s see. If you don’t mind, dear wax’ — breaking the seal — ‘it’s quite acceptable — we rip our enemies’ hearts out to find out what’s in their minds: ripping open their letters is more acceptable.’ He opened the letter and read: ‘Don’t forget our reciprocal vows. You have many opportunities to cut him off. If you really want this you will find that there will be enough time and opportunity. If he returns the victor nothing will have been achieved: I would be his prisoner and his bed my gaol. Save me from that loathesome intimacy and take his place for your trouble. Your wife, as I would like to be: affectionate lover: Goneril.

Oh, infinite span of woman’s lust! A plot against her virtuous husband’s life and to replace him with my brother!’ He gave Oswald’s body a little kick. ‘I’ll cover you up here in this unsanctified burial place of murderous lechers. When the time is right I’ll show this disgraceful letter to the targeted Duke. It’s lucky for him that I can tell him both about your death and the business you were engaged in.’

He began covering the body with branches and leaves. Gloucester watched him. ‘The King is mad,’ he said. ‘How stubborn my mind is that I should resist that and be so painfully conscious of my great distress. It would be better if I were mad: then my thoughts would be severed from my griefs and I would lose my pain in fantasies that would have no real meaning.’

Give me your hand,’ Edgar said. ‘I think I can hear drum beats in the distance. Come, father: I’ll leave you with a friend.’

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 4, Scene 7

Kent had revealed himself to Cordelia and they were in the royal tent in the French camp. The gentleman who had carried messages for Kent and the doctor who was caring for Lear were also present.

‘Oh, you saintly Kent!’ Cordelia said. ‘How could I ever match your goodness in all my life and work? My life will be too short and I will fail by every measure.’

‘Acknowledgement is overpayment, madam,’ said Kent. ‘Everything I’ve reported to you is the plain truth — no more no less, exactly that.’

‘Go and dress more appropriately,’ she said. ‘Those clothes are reminders of the recent bad times. Please take them off.’

‘If you don’t mind, dear madam, to be recognised now would impede my plans. I’d consider it a favour if you didn’t give me open recognition until I think the time is right.’

‘All right then, my dear lord,’ she said. ‘Doctor, how is the King?’

‘Madam, he’s still sleeping,’ the doctor told her.

‘Oh you kind gods,’ she said, ‘cure this great rift in his abused soul. Tune the discordant and jarring mind of this vulnerable old man.’

‘Will Your Majesty allow us to wake the King up? He’s slept for a long time.’

‘Use your own discretion and do what you think best,’ she told him. ‘Is he dressed?’

The doctor signalled to some attendants to bring the King in.

‘Yes, madam,’ the gentleman said. ‘We put new clothes on him while he was fast asleep.’

‘Be at his side, dear madam, when we wake him up,’ the doctor said. ‘I’m sure he’ll be calm.’

‘Very well,’ she said.


The doctor had arranged for some musicians to attend the awakening and he nodded to them. They began to play soft music. Four attendants came into the tent, carrying the sleeping Lear on a long chair.

‘Come nearer,’ the doctor told Cordelia. ‘Play louder there!’ he instructed the musicians.

Cordelia knelt beside her father. ‘Oh my dear father!’ she said. ‘May my lips convey their medicine and let this kiss cure the violent injury that my sisters have given to you.’ She kissed his forehead gently.

‘Kind and loving Princess,’ Kent said.

‘Even if you hadn’t been their father these white hairs should have elicited pity from them. Was this a face to be attacked by the violent winds? To withstand the deep booming thunder? To be in the middle of the quick lightning flashes? To be alone in the middle of the night with only a flimsy head–covering? My enemy’s dog, even if he had bitten me, would have spent that night in front of my fire. And, poor father, did you have to slum it with pigs and homeless down–and–outs in bits of foul–smelling straw? Alas, alas, it’s a wonder that your life and sanity didn’t collapse all together. He’s waking up. Speak to him.’

The doctor whispered: ‘Madam, it’s best if you do.’

Cordelia stroked Lear’s hair. ‘How is my royal lord?’ she said softly. ‘How is Your Majesty?’ Lear groaned. He opened his eyes, groaned again, then closed them.’You wrong me by taking me out of the grave,’ he said. ‘You re a soul in heaven, but I am bound to a wheel of fire, in hell. My own tears scald like molten lead.’

She continued stroking his hair. ‘Sir, do you know me?’ she said.

‘You are a spirit, I know. Where did you die?’

Cordelia looked round at the doctor. ‘Still, still not right.’

‘He’s not fully awake yet,’ the doctor said. ‘Leave him alone a while.’

They watched as Lear came to full consciousness. His eyes opened and he looked around. ‘Where have I been?’ he said. ‘Where am I? Is it daylight?’ He shut his eyes again. ‘I’ve been so wrong.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I would die of pity seeing someone else in this state. I don’t know what to say.’ He held his hands close to his eyes and examined them. ‘I wouldn’t swear these are my hands,’ he said. ‘Let’s see. He withdrew one of the pins that held his robe together and jabbed it into his arm. He flinched. ‘I felt that pin–prick. I wish I knew what was going on.’

‘Oh look at me, Sir,’ Cordelia cried.

Lear sat up. He slid his feet slowly off the chair and on to the floor. He stood up shakily and looked at Cordelia.

‘And hold your hand over me in blessing,’ she said.


Lear sank to his knees.

‘No, sir,’ she said. ‘You must not kneel!’

‘I beg of you,’ he said, ‘do not mock me. I am a very foolish old man — over eighty years of age, no more no less. And to be honest with you, what I fear is that I’m not in my right mind. I feel I should know you, and this man, but I’m unsure, because I have no idea of what this place is, and try as I might, I can’t remember these clothes, nor do I know where I lodged last night. Don’t laugh at me but, as sure as I’m a man, I think this lady is my child, Cordelia.’

Tears ran down Cordelia’s cheeks. She flung herself into her father’s arms: ‘And so I am, I am!’

‘Are your tears wet?’ he kissed her cheek. ‘Yes, they are. Please don’t cry. If you have poison for me I’ll drink it. I know you don’t love me because your sisters have , as I do remember, done me wrong. You have some cause. They have not.’

Cordelia shook her head. ‘No cause, no cause.’

‘Am I in France?’ said Lear.

‘In your own kingdom, sir’ said Kent.

‘Do not mock me,’ Lear said.

The doctor put his hand on the weeping Queen’s shoulder. ‘Be comforted, madam,’ he said. ‘The great disorder in his soul has subsided. And yet it’s dangerous to make him remember the things he can’t. Don’t trouble him again till he’s more settled.’

Cordelia took he father’s arm. ‘Would Your Highness like to walk?’

‘You’ll have to be patient with me,’ said Lear, beginning to walk slowly. ‘Please now, forget and forgive. I am old and foolish.’

Kent and the gentleman were left alone.

‘Is it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was killed like that?’ the gentleman said.

‘Definitely,’ Kent said.

‘Who has taken command of his people?’

‘They say it’s the bastard son of Gloucester.’

The gentleman nodded. ‘They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent in Germany.’


‘There are always new rumours. It’s time to prepare. The armies of the kingdom are on their way.’

‘The battle is likely to be bloody. Farewell, sir.’

The gentleman went off to make his preparations. As Kent went on his way to make his own preparations he couldn’t help thinking that this was a turning point in his life — everything would depend on the outcome of the coming battle.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 5, Scene 1

Edmund was giving instructions to an officer. Regan paced. They were in the British camp near Dover.

‘Find out from the Duke whether he’s holding to his last plan or whether anything’s happened to make him change it. He’s unreliable and insecure. Bring his latest plan.’

The officer saluted and left. Regan turned impatiently.

‘Something must have happened to our sister’s man.’

‘Most likely,’ Edmund agreed.

Regan went close to him and placed her hand on his coat. ‘Now, sweet lord,’ she said. ‘You know that it’s my intention to favour you. Tell me the truth, the real truth — do you love my sister?’

‘In an honourable way.’

Regan stood back and looked at him from beneath her eyelashes. ‘But have you ever found my brother’s way to the forbidden place?’

Edmund smiled. ‘The thought of that worries you.’

‘I have a strong idea that you have got very close to her, been intimate — gone all the way.’

‘No, on my honour, madam!’ he protested.

‘I can’t stand her, my dear lord: don’t be intimate with her.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said. There was a drum beat. ‘She’s here, with her husband, the Duke.’

As Goneril approached with her husband and some officers, she was concerned about Edmund’s association with her sister. As far as she was concerned she would rather lose the battle than have Regan come between her and Edmund.


Edmund and Regan came out to greet them and Albany bowed to Regan. ‘Our very loving sister, greetings,’ he said. Then, to Edmund: ‘Sir, this is what I’ve heard: the King has gone to his daughter, with others whom our harsh rule has driven away. I’ve never been able to stand dishonesty. Regarding this business, I’m involved only because France is invading our country, not to confront the King and others whose just grievances, I’m afraid, force them to oppose us.’

Edmund bowed. ‘Sir, you speak nobly.’

‘Why are you even talking about this!’ Regan snapped.

‘Unite against the enemy,’ said Goneril. ‘These domestic and private quarrels are irrelevant here.’

‘Then let’s confer with the experienced military advisers about our tactics,’ said Albany.

‘I’ll come straight to your tent,’ Edmund said.

Regan wasn’t going to stand by and let Edmund be alone with Goneril. ‘Sister, are you coming with us?’ she said.

‘No.’

‘I think it would be best,’ said Regan. ‘Please come with us.’

Goneril glared at her sister. She knew exactly what she was up to. ‘All right, then, I’ll go,’ she said ungraciously.

Before they could leave they were confronted by a peasant, who spoke directly to Albany. It was Edgar, still in disguise.

‘If your Grace has no objection to talking to such a poor man let me have a word.’

Albany motioned the others on. ‘I’ll catch up with you,’ he said, and they moved on.

‘Before you fight the battle open this,’ Edgar said, giving him a letter. ‘If you win sound the trumpet to call me. I may seem humble but I can produce a champion who will confirm what is stated in there. If you’re defeated all your business with the world will be over and everything will be pointless. Good luck!’

‘Stay till I’ve read the letter,’ Albany called after him.

Edgar turned. ‘I was forbidden to,’ he said. ‘When the time comes just tell the herald to sound the trumpet and I’ll appear again.’

‘Why, farewell. I’ll read your letter.’

Before he could open the letter Edmund came back. ‘The enemy’s in view,’ he said. ‘Get your troops together.’ He handed Albany a document. ‘This is our spies’ estimate of their strength and numbers. But you must hurry now.’

‘We’ll be ready,’ Albany said as he left.


Edmund went off to muster his army but he wasn’t thinking about the battle ahead. He had sworn his love to both these sisters and each was suspicious of the other, just like those who have been stung are suspicious of the adder. The question was, which one should he take? Both? One? Or neither? Neither could be enjoyed if both remained alive. If he took the widow it would exasperate and infuriate her sister, Goneril. But, with her husband still alive, he wouldn’t find it easy to carry out his side of the bargain. Well anyway, he would use the husband as a figurehead for the battle. When that was over, if she wanted to she could find a quick way to get rid of him. As for the mercy that Albany was intending for Lear and Cordelia, when the battle was over and those two were in their power, they were never going to see his pardon. He speeded up his pace. His best approach was to act, not debate.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 5, Scene 2

The sounds of an impending battle rang across the plain. The two armies were positioning themselves. Edgar led Gloucester away from the battlefield to a field to the side of it.

‘Here father,’ he said. ‘Use the shadow of this tree as a resting place. Pray that the right side wins. If I ever return to you it will be with good news.’

‘Grace go with you, sir,’ Gloucester called as Edgar returned to the battlefield. He leant back against the tree. He heard the start of the battle — the shouting, the trumpets — he smelt the dust that rose — as the two sides fought desperately for supremacy, and then footsteps running towards him.

It was Edgar. ‘Let’s go, old man,’ he shouted, grabbing Gloucester and wrenching him to his feet. ‘Give me your hand. ‘Come on, let’s go! King Lear has lost and he and his daughter have been taken. Give me your hand. Come on!’

The old man was resisting, digging his heels in. ‘No further, sir,’ he said. ‘This is as good a place as any to die.’

‘What! Dejected again?’ Edgar tugged harder. ‘Men have to endure their deaths just as they have to endure their births. Being prepared is everything. Come on!’

‘And that’s also true,’ said Gloucester, allowing Edgar to lead him away.

King Lear Modern Translation: Act 5, Scene 3

Edmund entered the English camp, with drums beating and flags flying in celebration of the British victory. He gazed down from his horse at the two heavily guarded royal prisoners, who had been brought there.

‘Some officers take them away,’ he said. ‘Guard them well — until we know what those who will decide their fate want to do with them.’

Cordelia held her father’s hand. This was surely a mistake. ‘We aren’t the first to suffer the worst after having had the best of intentions,’ she told him. ‘I’m depressed on your behalf, as a suffering king. If it were only me I could have faced up to ill–fortune. Do you want to see these daughters and these sisters?’ Lear shook with emotion. ‘No, no, no, no!’ he cried. ‘Come, let’s be off to prison. We two, alone, will sing like birds in a cage. When you ask me for a blessing I’ll kneel down and ask your forgiveness. And that’s how we’ll live. And we’ll pray, and sing, and tell each other stories about things that happened in olden times, and laugh at courtiers covered with decoration, and listen to ordinary people gossiping about court news. And we’ll gossip with them too — who loses and who wins: who’s in, who’s out — and we’ll solve the mysteries of existence as if we were God’s spies. And in an enclosed prison we’ll outlast the packs and sectors of great ones who come and go monthly.’

Edmund was becoming impatient: ‘Take them away!’ he said.

Lear put his arms around his daughter. ‘The gods themselves honour such sacrifices as you have made, Cordelia,’ he said. She buried herself in his embrace and sobbed. ‘Have I made you cry?’ He stroked her hair. ‘Whoever separates us now will have to use a burning torch from heaven and drive us apart with fire. Wipe your eyes. Time will decay them before they will make us weep. We’ll see them starve first. Come.’

The guards led them away and Edmund dismounted and beckoned to one of his officers.

‘Come here, Captain: listen.’ He held a note out to the officer. Then, lowering his voice, he gave his instructions: ‘Take this. Go and follow them to prison. I’ve already given you a rung up the ladder. If you follow these instructions it will lead you to glory. Understand that men should take advantage of the opportunities offered them. To be tender–hearted doesn’t become a soldier. This important assignment doesn’t admit debate. Either say you’ll do it or you can go and find your fortune elsewhere.’

The captain took no time at all to make his decision. He would do it.

‘Jump to it then,’ said Edmund, ‘and enjoy the satisfaction of completing it. Listen. I’m saying immediately, and do it precisely according to my instructions.’

‘I’m not a horse,’ the officer replied. ‘If it’s a man’s job I’ll do it.’

Albany, Goneril and Regan joined Edmund, now, in the British camp, as victors, with their banners, trumpets and drums. They all entered the royal tent and Goneril called for refreshments.

Albany approached Edmund and addressed him formally. ‘Sir, you’ve shown your valiant heritage today, and you’ve had some luck. You are in possession of the captives who were our antagonists in today’s battle. I require them of you, to do with them what their deserts and our security shall equally determine.

‘Sir,’ said Edmund, ‘I thought it fitting that I should send the old and unhappy King to some guarded sanctuary. His age has a particular power, and even more so, his title, which could win the hearts of the common people and turn the weapons of our conscripted soldiers against us. I sent the Queen with him, for the same reason, and they will be ready tomorrow, or at a later time, to appear wherever you intend to hold your trial. At the moment we are sweating and bleeding: friend has lost friend. Even the best of victories can, in the heat of the moment, be cursed by the feelings of injured parties. The case of Cordelia and her father requires a more appropriate place.

Albany bristled. ‘Look here, sir,’ he said. ‘I regard you as a subject in this war, not as an equal.’

Almost before he had finished the sentence Regan burst out with: ‘His rank is up to us to decide. I think our opinion might have been sought before you said so much. He led our armies and acted with the authority of my rank and person. In that capacity he may well stand up and call himself your equal.’

Goneril turned on her. ‘Not so fast,’ she said. ‘He’s elevated more in his own right than because of any rank you’ve given him.’

‘In representing me he ranks with the highest,’ retorted Regan.

‘That would only be the case if he were your husband,’ said Albany.

‘Those who speak in jest often speak prophesies,’ said Regan.

‘Well I never!’ exclaimed Goneril. ‘That’s straight talking all right!’

Regan turned on her. ‘Madam,’ she said, ‘I am not well, otherwise I’d blast you out of sight!’

She smiled at Edmund. ‘General,’ she said, ‘take my soldiers, my prisoners, my inheritance. Do whatever you like with them…’ She took his arm and glared at Goneril — ‘… and me. I’m all yours. Let the world witness that I hereby pronounce you my lord and master!’


‘Do you intend to have him?’ said Goneril.

‘It’s not your business,’ Albany snapped.

‘Nor yours, lord,’ said Edmund.

‘Oh yes it is, bastard!’ said Albany.

Regan took both Edmund’s hands and looked up at him. ‘Let the drum sound and proclaim my title yours.’

‘Just a minute,’ said Albany. ‘Wait till you hear this! Edmund, I arrest you for capital treason. And your accomplice — this gilded serpent.’ — pointing at Goneril. ‘As for your claim, fair sister, I deny it in favour of my wife: she’s the one who’s sub–contracted to this lord, and I, her husband, contradict your banns. If you want to marry make your proposal to me — my lady is spoken for.’

Goneril turned away. ‘So dramatic,’ she said dismissively.

Albany was adamant, however. ‘You’re still wearing your armour, Gloucester,’ he said. ‘Let the trumpet sound. If no–one appears to try your heinous, undeniable many treasons, here is my challenge!’ He threw his gauntlet down at Edmund’s feet. ‘I’ll prove with your life before I ever eat anything again, that you are nothing other than what I’ve proclaimed you to be.’

Regan moaned suddenly. She put her hand to her heart. ‘I’m sick — oh, I’m sick!’

Goneril looked on, satisfied with the effect of her work on Regan’s drink. If her sister hadn’t been sick to the death she wouldn’t ever have trusted poison again!

Ignoring Regan, Edmund faced the angry Albany. ‘Here’s my response,’ he said coldly, throwing his gauntlet down too. ‘I don’t care how exalted he is who labels me “traitor”: he lies like a villain. Instruct the trumpeter. Whoever dares to come forward, I will steadfastly defend my honour against him, against you — against anyone.’

Albany signalled to one of his aids to write the challenge then he went to the door and instructed the guards: ‘A herald there!’

Edmund echoed him: ‘A herald there, a herald!’

‘You will have to depend on your personal valour,’ said Albany, ‘because your soldiers, all levied in my name, have taken their discharge from me.’

In the heat of the moment they had both forgotten about Regan, who was clutching her throat, now, and having difficulty breathing. ‘It’s getting worse,’ she gasped.

Albany told an officer to have her taken to his tent. Two officers supported her between them and took her away as the herald arrived.


‘Come here herald,’ said Albany. ‘Let the trumpet sound and read this out.’

The herald took the document from the officer who had written it.

An officer at the entrance called out an order: ‘Sound — trumpet!’

The trump sounded and the herald loudly issued the challenge, reading from Albany’s document: ‘If any man of any high birth or rank, enlisted in the army will maintain that Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, is a multifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet. He will vigorously defend himself.’

The officer gave another order: ‘Sound!’ There was no response. ‘Again,’ the officer ordered. No response to the second trumpet call. ‘Sound!’ the officer shouted and the third trumpet sounded.

They waited. The silence in the camp was profound. Then another trumpet sounded in the distance. They waited and soon a knight in full armour, with visor down, rode into the camp. It was Edgar. He dismounted and waited to be acknowledged. Albany instructed the herald to ask the knight what his intentions were and why he had appeared on the trumpet call.

The herald asked him formally and Edgar replied: ‘Know that my name has been lost, destroyed b y the gnawing tooth and canker–bite of treason. And yet I am as noble as the adversary I have come to fight.’

‘Who is that adversary?’ said Albany.

‘Who speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester?’

Edmund stepped forward. ‘Himself,’ he said. ‘What do you have to say to him?’

The brothers faced each other.

‘Draw your sword so that if what I have to say offends a noble heart your valour may do you justice,’ Edgar said. He drew his own sword. ‘Here is mine. Drawing it is the privilege of my position, my vows and my knightly rank. I proclaim you — notwithstanding your strength, position, youth and eminence, despite your victorious sword and brilliant new fortune, your bravery and courage — to be a traitor, who has betrayed his gods, his brother and his father. You have conspired against this exalted, illustrious prince: you are, from the very top of your head to the dust below your feet, a most toad–spotted traitor. If you deny it this sword, this arm, and all my energy are strained to prove to your heart, to which I’m addressing myself, that you lie.’

Edmund matched his brother’s chivalric formality: ‘Wisdom tells me I should ask your name, but because you appear so good and valiant and because your speech shows evidence of breeding, although I could, within the rules of chivalry, postpone this encounter, I disdain to do that. I toss these accusations of treason back in your face, together with the hateful charge that you’re lying. Though right now they glance by, scarcely bruising, this sword of mine will guide them to where they will stick for ever. Trumpets, speak!’


Trumpets sounded the start of the combat and the brothers began, each trying to land a wounding blow in the other with their broadswords. It was a long and testing fight and they both began to drag with exhaustion, neither one being able to gain an advantage, they were so equally matched. But eventually, Edgar managed to get his foot behind Edmund’s leg and he pushed him over, where he lay, on his back, at the mercy of the heavy sword that came down, piercing his breast–plate with its weight and force. He groaned and Edgar stepped back and raised the sword again.

‘Save him! Save him!’ cried Albany.

Goneril knelt down beside Edmund. ‘This is deception, Gloucester.’ She spoke sharply. ‘According to military law you’re not bound to respond to an unknown enemy. You’re not defeated but cheated and deceived!’

‘Shut your mouth woman or I’ll stop it with this letter!’ exclaimed Albany. He held a letter up in front of her face — the letter that Edgar had found on Oswald’s body. ‘Hold back, sir,’ he told Edgar. He shook the letter in Goneril’s face. ‘You unspeakable…! Read you own evil.’

She tried to snatch it from him and he pulled it out of her reach. ‘No snatching lady. I see you know what it is.’

‘What if I do?’ she said. ‘The laws are mine. Who can prosecute me for it?’

‘Oh monstrous!’ Albany exclaimed. ‘Do you know this letter?’

‘Don’t ask me what I know!’ she screamed. She ran towards the royal tent.

Albany snapped his fingers at an officer. ‘Follow her. She’s desperate. Keep her under control.’

Some officers had removed Edmund’s helmet and others were trying to remove the breast section of his armour, which was impeding his breathing. He lay on the ground, wincing, while a red patch around him grew. Edgar stood over him, still fully armoured. Albany stood beside him.

‘I have done those things you have accused me of,’ Edmund told Albany. ‘And more — much more. It will all come out in time. ‘It’s all over for me now. He turned his head painfully and spoke to the mysterious stranger. ‘But who are you who has this advantage over me? If you’re noble I forgive you.’

‘Let’s exchange love,’ said Edgar. ‘I am no less in breeding than you are, Edmund. If I’m more than that then you’ve wronged me even more.’ He paused for a moment to ease his helmet off and when he had done that and handed to an officer he looked down at his dying brother. ‘My name is Edgar, and I’m your father’s son. The gods are just and use the vices we indulge ourselves in as the instruments of their torture. The dark and vicious act of adultery out of which you were conceived cost him his eyes.’

‘You’re right,’ gasped Edmund. ‘It’s true. The wheel of fortune has come full circle and I’m at the bottom again.

Albany shook Edgar’s hand. ‘I thought the way you walked told of a royal nobility,’ he said. ‘I welcome you. May sorrow break my heart if I ever hated you or your father.’

‘Noble prince, I know,’ said Edgar.

‘Where have you hidden yourself?’ Albany said. ‘How did you know about your father’s suffering?’


‘By soothing them, my lord. Listen to a brief tale, and once it’s told, oh, how I wish my heart would burst! The need to escape the threat of violence that was following me so closely — oh, how wonderful this life is that we suffer the pain of death hourly rather than have a sudden death — taught me to disguise myself in the rags of a madman and assume an identity that even dogs held in contempt. And in these clothes I met my father with those bleeding rings that had just lost their precious gems. I became his guide: I led him, begged for him, raised his spirits. I never revealed myself to him until about a half and hour ago, when I was armed up. Not sure of this victory, although hoping for it, I asked his blessing and told him of my mission from beginning to end. But his injured heart, alas, too weak to support the conflict between the two extremes of passion — joy and grief — burst with happiness.’

Edmund’s eyes were filled with tears. He reached up weakly and took his brother’s hand. ‘This speech of yours has moved me,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it will do some good. Go on, you look as though you have more to say.’

‘If there is more that’s even sadder, keep it in, because I’m about to dissolve in tears as I listen,’ Albany said.

‘This would seem a concluding moment to those who can’t cope with sorrow,’ Edgar said. ‘To elaborate would make you more sad and it would be going too far. While I was crying my heart out a man arrived who, having seen me at my worst moment, would normally have avoided my repulsive company, but seeing who it was that was suffering so profoundly, he placed his strong arms around my neck and bellowed out as if to burst the heavens. He flung himself on my father and told the most piteous tale of Lear and himself that anyone had ever heard. In recounting it his grief overwhelmed him and the strings of life began to loosen. The trumpets sounded twice, then, and I left him there unconscious.’

‘But who was that?’ said Albany.

‘It was Kent, sir, the banished Kent who, disguised, followed the king who had banished him, serving him even better than a slave would.’

Edgar’s account was interrupted by the arrival of a distraught officer waving a bloodstained knife. ‘Help, help. Some help, oh!’ he shouted.

‘What kind of help?’ said Edgar.

The officer tried to speak but he was overwhelmed by his emotions.

‘Speak, man,’ said Albany.

‘What’s the meaning of this bloody knife?’ said Edgar.

‘It’s hot — it’s steaming.’ The officer had difficulty in getting it out. ‘It came from the heart of… Oh, she’s dead!’ he exclaimed, unable to believe what he was reporting.

‘Who’s dead?’ Albany was losing patience with this officer. ‘Speak man!’

The officer finally managed to say it. ‘Your wife, sir, your wife. And her sister has been poisoned by her. She confessed it.’

Edmund made an effort to speak through his pain. ‘I was contracted to them both. All three of us are now marrying in a single moment.’

Albany made no comment. They were all silent. Then Edgar said: ‘Here comes Kent.’

Albany said: ‘Bring the bodies, whether alive or dead.’ The officer went off and Albany nodded. ‘This judgment of the heavens, awesome as it is, doesn’t move me to pity.’ He acknowledged Kent with a gesture. ‘Oh is this he? This isn’t the right time for conventional courtesies.’

‘I have come to say farewell to my King and master,’ said Kent. ‘Isn’t he here?’

Albany’s eyes opened wide. ‘We forgot all about such an important thing! Tell us, Edmund. Where’s the King? And where’s Cordelia?’

Some soldiers brought the bodies of Goneril and Regan and put them on the ground beside Edmund.

‘Do you see this spectacle, Kent?’ said Albany.

‘Alas!’ exclaimed Kent. ‘How did this happen?’

Edmund raised himself to look at the sisters. ‘So Edmund really was loved after all,’ he said. ‘The one poisoned the other for love of me and then killed herself.’

‘Exactly right,’ said Albany. ‘Cover their faces.’

‘I’m breathing my last,’ gasped Edmund. ‘I want to do some good in spite of myself. Send quickly — hurry up — to the castle, because Lear and Cordelia are under the death sentence from me. Come on, get to them in time!’ ‘Run, run!’ exclaimed Albany, looking at no–one in particular. ‘Oh, run!’

‘Who, my lord?’ said Edgar. ‘Who are you sending?’

Albany pointed to an officer.

‘Give him your reprieve warrant,’ said Edgar.

‘Good thinking,’ said Edmund. ‘Take my sword as the token. Give it to the captain.’

The officer took Edmund’s sword and ran.

‘Hurry, on your life!’ Edmund called after him. Then he lay back. A tear rolled down his cheek. ‘He had an order from your wife and me to hang Cordelia in the prison and announce that despair caused her to commit suicide.’

‘The gods protect her!’ exclaimed Albany. ‘Take him away for now.’

The soldiers lifted the armoured Edmund with difficulty and carried him away.

Edmund and Albany waited for the officer to return with the news that he had prevented Cordelia’s death. When he came back the King was with him, staggering, carrying the dead Cordelia in his arms. He lay her on the ground and sank down beside her.

‘Howl, howl, howl!’ he cried. ‘Oh, you are men of stone! If I had your tongues and eyes I’d use them to crack heaven’s roof! She’s gone for ever. I know when someone is dead and when someone’s alive. She’s as dead as earth. Lend me a mirror. If her breath mists or stains the glass, why, then she lives!’

Kent, Albany and Edgar looked on with emotion. It was as though the end of the world had come, or something very like it. The heavens could just as well have fallen and ended everything.

Lear looked about on the ground and found a small feather. He held it beneath Cordelia’s nose. ‘The feather moves!’ he exclaimed. ‘She’s alive! If so it’s a stroke of luck that cancels all the sorrow I’ve ever felt.’
Kent knelt beside the grief–stricken King. ‘Oh my dear master!’ he said.

Lear looked at him with fear in his eyes. ‘Go away! Please!’

Edgar tried to explain who he was. ‘It’s the noble Kent, your friend,’ he said gently.

Lear’s eyes b lazed. ‘To hell with you!’ he shouted. ‘Murderers, traitors, all of you! I could have saved her: now she’s gone for ever!’ He hugged the lifeless body of his daughter. ‘Cordelia, Cordelia,’ he moaned. ‘Stay awhile.’ He put his ear to her lips and listened. ‘Ha! What’s did you say? Her voice was always soft, gentle and low — an excellent thing in a woman. I killed the wretch who was hanging you!’

The officer nodded. ‘It’s true, my lords: he did.’

A smile passed across Lear’s features. ‘Didn’t I just, fellow!’ he said. ‘I’ve seen the day when, with my keen sharp sword, I would have made them jump! I am old now, and my ailments impede me. Who are you? My eyes are not as good as they should be, I’ll tell you straight…’

Kent shook his head. ‘If Fortune should brag about two men she loved and hated we are looking at one of them now.’

‘… my sight is dull,’ continued Lear. ‘Aren’t you Kent?’

‘The same!’ Kent said joyfully. ‘Your servant, Kent. Where is your servant, Caius?’

‘Ah, he’s a good fellow, I can tell you that,’ said Lear. ‘He’ll fight, and quickly too!’ Then he looked down sadly. ‘He’s dead and rotten.’

‘No, my dear lord,’ said Kent, ‘I am the very man…’

‘I’ll deal with that in a minute,’ said Lear.

‘… who has followed you from the beginning of your misfortunes,’ Kent said.

‘You are welcome here,’ said Lear, still bewildered.

‘Kent nodded vigorously. ‘The very man. Everything is cheerless, dark and deadly. Your eldest daughters have done themselves in and have met a desperate end.’

Lear wasn’t listening. He was still staring at Cordelia. ‘Yes, I think so,’ he muttered.

‘He doesn’t know what he’s saying,’ said Albany. ‘There’s no point in talking to him.’

‘Absolutely pointless,’ agreed Edgar.

An officer arrived to tell them that that Edmund was dead.

‘That’s a minor issue here,’ said Albany. ‘Lords and noble friends, know our intentions. We will give whatever comfort we can to this noble ruin. For ourself, we will resign absolute power to this old majesty during the remainder of his life. As for you ‘ — indicating Edgar and Kent — ‘take up your rightful places and, in addition, the lands and titles that your noble deeds have more than merited. All friends will know the rewards of their loyalty and all foes punished according to their deserts. Oh look, look!’

Lear had lain Cordelia’s body on the ground and he was kneeling beside her and looking up at the sky and shouting out his anger to the gods. ‘And my poor child is hanged! No, no, no, life! Why should a dog, or a horse, or a rat have life, and you no breath at all? You’ll not come again — never, never, never, never, never!’ His face was red and he looked as though he was choking. He tugged at his collar. ‘Please, undo this button.’ Albany helped him and the collar fell loose. Lear smiled. ‘Thank you, sir.’ He looked down at Cordelia again. ‘Do you see this? Look at her. Look, her lips. Look there, look there!’ He took a deep breath and then, without warning, fell on top of Cordelia’s body.

‘He’s fainted!’ exclaimed Edgar. He shook Lear. ‘My lord, my lord!’

Kent put his hand on Edgar’s shoulder. ‘Let his heart break. Please, break!’

Edgar was still shaking him. ‘Wake up, my lord!’

Kent took Edgar’s arm and turned him away from the pitiful spectacle. ‘Don’t trouble his departing soul,’ he said. ‘Let him pass. Only someone who hated him would stretch him any longer on the rack of this tough world.’

Lear lay completely still.

‘He’s indeed gone,’ said Edgar.

‘The wonder of it is that he endured for so long,’ Kent said. ‘He lived longer than he should have.’

‘Take them away,’ said Albany. ‘Universal mourning is now our present concern. Friends of my soul,’ he told Kent and Edgar, ‘you two will rule in this kingdom and support this wounded state.’ Kent shook his head. ‘I have to go on a journey soon, sir. My master is calling me. I must not say no.’ Edgar shook Albany’s hand. ‘We must respond to the problems of these sad times,’ he said, ‘and speak what we feel and not what we ought to say. The oldest have borne the greatest burden. We who are young shall never see as much nor live as long.’

The royal bodies were lifted and the three noblemen and their officers followed in a sad procession.