Act 5, Scene 3

Original Text

*The British camp. Enter in conquest with drum and colours, Edmund, Lear, and Cordelia as prisoners, Soldiers, Captain.* EDMUND. Some officers take them away. Good guard, Until their greater pleasures first be known That are to censure them.

Modern English

*The British camp. Edmund enters victorious with drums and banners, leading Lear and Cordelia as prisoners, along with Soldiers and a Captain.* EDMUND. Officers, take them away. Guard them well until the higher authorities decide what's to be done with them.

Original Text

CORDELIA. We are not the first Who with best meaning have incurred the worst. For thee, oppressed King, I am cast down. Myself could else out-frown false Fortune's frown. Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters?

Modern English

CORDELIA. We're not the first good people to suffer the worst fate for the best intentions. It's for you, my oppressed King, that I grieve. On my own, I could stare down bad luck without flinching. Shouldn't we at least confront these daughters, these sisters?

Original Text

LEAR. No, no, no, no. Come, let's away to prison. We two alone will sing like birds i' th' cage. When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness. So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies; and hear poor rogues Talk of court news, and we'll talk with them too — Who loses and who wins, who's in, who's out — And take upon's the mystery of things As if we were God's spies. And we'll wear out In a walled prison packs and sects of great ones That ebb and flow by th' moon.

Modern English

LEAR. No, no, no, no. Come, let's go off to prison. The two of us alone will sing like birds in a cage. When you ask for my blessing, I'll kneel down and ask you to forgive me. That's how we'll live — praying, and singing, and telling old stories, and laughing at fancy courtiers. We'll listen to poor fools gossip about what's happening at court, and we'll join in too — who's losing and who's winning, who's in favour, who's out — and we'll ponder the great mysteries of the world as if we were spies sent by God himself. And we'll outlast, locked in our prison walls, all the powerful factions that rise and fall with the tides.

Original Text

EDMUND. Take them away. LEAR. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes. The good years shall devour them, flesh and fell, Ere they shall make us weep. We'll see 'em starved first. Come. *Exeunt Lear and Cordelia, guarded.*

Modern English

EDMUND. Take them away. LEAR. The gods themselves honour sacrifices like ours, Cordelia. They burn incense for people like us. I have you back — do you understand? Whoever tries to separate us will need to bring fire from heaven and smoke us out like foxes from a den. Dry your eyes. Time itself will destroy our enemies, skin and bone, before they ever make us weep. We'll watch them starve first. Come. *Lear and Cordelia exit, under guard.*

Original Text

EDMUND. Come hither, captain. Hark. Take thou this note. Go follow them to prison. One step I have advanced thee. If thou dost As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way To noble fortunes. Know thou this: that men Are as the time is. To be tender-minded Does not become a sword. Thy great employment Will not bear question. Either say thou'lt do't, Or thrive by other means. CAPTAIN. I'll do't, my lord. EDMUND. About it, and write happy when thou'st done. Mark, I say instantly, and carry it so As I have set it down. *Exit Captain.*

Modern English

EDMUND. Come here, captain. Listen carefully. Take this note. Follow them to prison. I've already given you one promotion. If you carry out what's written here, you'll be on your way to a nobleman's fortune. Understand this: men must act according to the times. Being soft-hearted doesn't suit a soldier. This assignment won't bear any questioning. Either say you'll do it or find another way to get ahead. CAPTAIN. I'll do it, my lord. EDMUND. Get to it, and count yourself lucky when it's done. Do it immediately, I say, and carry it out exactly as I've written. *The Captain exits.*

Original Text

*Flourish. Enter Albany, Goneril, Regan, Soldiers.* ALBANY. Sir, you have showed today your valiant strain, And fortune led you well. You have the captives Who were the opposites of this day's strife. I do require them of you, so to use them As we shall find their merits and our safety May equally determine.

Modern English

*Trumpets sound. Albany, Goneril, Regan, and Soldiers enter.* ALBANY. Sir, you've shown your bravery today, and fortune has smiled on you. You hold the captives who fought against us in this battle. I'm asking you to hand them over, so we can deal with them as their actions and our safety jointly require.

Original Text

EDMUND. Sir, I thought it fit To send the old and miserable King to some retention, Whose age had charms in it, whose title more, To pluck the common bosom on his side And turn our impressed lances in our eyes, Which do command them. With him I sent the Queen, My reason all the same, and they are ready Tomorrow, or at further space, t' appear Where you shall hold your session.

Modern English

EDMUND. Sir, I thought it best to send the old, wretched King into custody somewhere. His age has a way of winning sympathy, and his royal title even more so — enough to draw the common people to his side and turn our own conscripted soldiers against us. I sent the Queen with him for the same reason. They'll be ready tomorrow, or whenever you like, to appear before whatever tribunal you convene.

Original Text

ALBANY. Sir, by your patience, I hold you but a subject of this war, Not as a brother. REGAN. That's as we list to grace him. Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers, Bore the commission of my place and person, The which immediacy may well stand up And call itself your brother.

Modern English

ALBANY. Sir, if you'll pardon me, I consider you a subordinate in this war, not an equal. REGAN. That depends on how we choose to honour him. I'd have thought you'd consult our wishes before speaking so boldly. He commanded our forces and carried my full authority and commission. That direct appointment entitles him to call himself your equal.

Original Text

GONERIL. Not so hot. In his own grace he doth exalt himself More than in your addition. REGAN. In my rights, By me invested, he compeers the best. ALBANY. That were the most, if he should husband you. REGAN. Jesters do oft prove prophets. GONERIL. Holla, holla! That eye that told you so looked but a-squint.

Modern English

GONERIL. Calm down. He raises himself up by his own merits more than by any title you've given him. REGAN. Invested with my authority, he's the equal of anyone here. ALBANY. He'd be the greatest of all if he married you. REGAN. Jokers often turn out to be prophets. GONERIL. Ha! Whoever told you that was seeing things crooked.

Original Text

REGAN. Lady, I am not well, else I should answer From a full-flowing stomach. General, Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony. Dispose of them, of me. The walls is thine. Witness the world that I create thee here My lord and master. GONERIL. Mean you to enjoy him? ALBANY. The let-alone lies not in your good will. EDMUND. Nor in thine, lord. ALBANY. Half-blooded fellow, yes.

Modern English

REGAN. Lady, I'm not well, or I'd give you a proper piece of my mind. General — take my soldiers, my prisoners, my inheritance. Do what you like with them, and with me. I surrender everything. Let the whole world witness: I hereby name you my lord and master. GONERIL. You actually intend to have him? ALBANY. Whether you allow it is not your decision. EDMUND. Nor yours, my lord. ALBANY. Half-blooded bastard — yes, it is.

Original Text

REGAN. Let the drum strike and prove my title thine. ALBANY. Stay yet, hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee On capital treason, and in thy arrest This gilded serpent. For your claim, fair sisters, I bar it in the interest of my wife. 'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord, And I, her husband, contradict your banns. If you will marry, make your loves to me. My lady is bespoke. GONERIL. An interlude!

Modern English

REGAN. Sound the drum and let combat prove my claim is yours. ALBANY. Wait. Hear me out. Edmund, I arrest you for high treason — and with you in that arrest, this gilded snake. As for your claim, dear sisters, I block it on behalf of my wife. She's already secretly engaged to this lord, and I, as her husband, challenge your marriage plans. If you want to marry, come court me instead. My lady is spoken for. GONERIL. What a farce!

Original Text

ALBANY. Thou art armed, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound. If none appear to prove upon thy person Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, There is my pledge. I'll make it on thy heart, Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less Than I have here proclaimed thee. REGAN. Sick, oh, sick! GONERIL. If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine.

Modern English

ALBANY. You're armed, Gloucester. Let the trumpet sound. If no one comes forward to prove your heinous, obvious, and numerous treasons in combat, here is my glove as pledge. I swear on my life, before I eat another meal, that you are guilty of everything I've accused you of. REGAN. Sick — oh, I'm sick! GONERIL. If she isn't, then poison has lost its power.

Original Text

EDMUND. There's my exchange. What in the world he is That names me traitor, villain-like he lies. Call by the trumpet. He that dares approach, On him, on you — who not? — I will maintain My truth and honour firmly. *Enter a Herald.* ALBANY. A herald, ho! Trust to thy single virtue, for thy soldiers, All levied in my name, have in my name Took their discharge. REGAN. My sickness grows upon me. ALBANY. She is not well. Convey her to my tent.

Modern English

EDMUND. Here's my glove in answer. Whatever man alive calls me a traitor lies like the villain he is. Sound the trumpet. Whoever dares step forward — whether it's him, or you, or anyone at all — I'll defend my honour and my truth to the end. *A Herald enters.* ALBANY. A herald, come! Don't count on your soldiers — they were all enlisted in my name, and in my name I've discharged them. REGAN. I'm getting worse. ALBANY. She's unwell. Take her to my tent.

Original Text

Come hither, herald. Let the trumpet sound, And read out this. *A trumpet sounds.* HERALD. *(reads)* If any man of quality or degree within the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the trumpet. He is bold in his defence. *First trumpet.* HERALD. Again. *Second trumpet.* HERALD. Again. *Third trumpet. A trumpet answers within. Enter Edgar, armed.*

Modern English

Come here, herald. Sound the trumpet and read this out. *A trumpet sounds.* HERALD. *(reads)* If any man of rank or standing within the army will maintain against Edmund, supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a traitor many times over, let him appear by the third blast of the trumpet. The accused stands ready to defend himself. *First trumpet blast.* HERALD. Again. *Second trumpet blast.* HERALD. Again. *Third trumpet blast. An answering trumpet from offstage. Edgar enters in armour.*

Original Text

ALBANY. Ask him his purposes, why he appears Upon this call o' th' trumpet. HERALD. What are you? Your name, your quality, and why you answer This present summons? EDGAR. Know my name is lost, By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit. Yet am I noble as the adversary I come to cope. ALBANY. Which is that adversary? EDGAR. What's he that speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester? EDMUND. Himself. What say'st thou to him?

Modern English

ALBANY. Ask him why he's here, and why he answers the trumpet's call. HERALD. Who are you? Your name, your rank, and why do you answer this summons? EDGAR. My name has been destroyed, gnawed away by treason, eaten through like rotten wood. But I am as noble as the man I've come to fight. ALBANY. Which man is that? EDGAR. Who speaks for Edmund, Earl of Gloucester? EDMUND. I speak for myself. What do you have to say to me?

Original Text

EDGAR. Draw thy sword, That if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice. Here is mine. Behold, it is my privilege, The privilege of mine honours, My oath, and my profession. I protest, Maugre thy strength, place, youth, and eminence, Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor — False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father, Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince — And from th' extremest upward of thy head To the descent and dust below thy foot, A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou "no," This sword, this arm, and my best spirits are bent To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, Thou liest.

Modern English

EDGAR. Draw your sword, so that if my words offend a noble heart, your arm can answer for you. Here is mine. Look — this is my right, the right of my honour, my sworn oath, and my calling as a knight. I declare that despite your strength, your rank, your youth, your standing, despite your victory in battle and your brand-new fortune, your courage and your nerve — you are a traitor. False to your gods, your brother, and your father. A conspirator against this great and noble prince. And from the very top of your head down to the dust beneath your feet, a thoroughly vile traitor. If you deny it, this sword, this arm, and every ounce of my resolve are set to prove it on your heart — the heart I'm speaking to — that you are lying.

Original Text

EDMUND. In wisdom I should ask thy name, But since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes, What safe and nicely I might well delay By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn. Back do I toss these treasons to thy head, With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart, Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise, This sword of mine shall give them instant way Where they shall rest forever. Trumpets, speak! *Alarums. They fight. Edmund falls.*

Modern English

EDMUND. By rights, I should demand your name. But since your bearing is so handsome and soldier-like, and your speech carries a certain note of good breeding, I'll skip the formality I could safely claim under the rules of chivalry. I scorn to hide behind procedure. I throw your accusations back in your face along with the lie from hell that goes with them. These charges barely graze me as they pass, but my sword will drive them straight through to where they'll lodge forever. Trumpets, sound! *Trumpets blare. They fight. Edmund falls.*

Original Text

ALBANY. Save him, save him! GONERIL. This is practice, Gloucester. By th' law of war thou wast not bound to answer An unknown opposite. Thou art not vanquished, But cozened and beguiled. ALBANY. Shut your mouth, dame, Or with this paper shall I stop it. — Hold, sir. — Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil. No tearing, lady. I perceive you know it. GONERIL. Say if I do. The laws are mine, not thine. Who can arraign me for't? *Exit Goneril.*

Modern English

ALBANY. Don't let him die! GONERIL. This is a trick, Gloucester. By the laws of war, you weren't obligated to fight an unknown challenger. You haven't been beaten — you've been cheated and deceived. ALBANY. Shut your mouth, woman, or I'll stop it with this letter. — Wait, sir. — You, worse than words can name, read your own wickedness. Don't tear it up, my lady. I can see you recognize it. GONERIL. So what if I do? The laws belong to me, not you. Who's going to put me on trial? *Goneril exits.*

Original Text

ALBANY. Most monstrous! Oh, know'st thou this paper? EDMUND. Ask me not what I know. ALBANY. Go after her. She's desperate. Govern her. *Exit a Soldier.*

Modern English

ALBANY. Monstrous! Do you know about this letter? EDMUND. Don't ask me what I know. ALBANY. Go after her. She's out of her mind. Watch her closely. *A Soldier exits after Goneril.*

Original Text

EDMUND. What you have charged me with, that have I done, And more, much more. The time will bring it out. 'Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble, I do forgive thee. EDGAR. Let's exchange charity. I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund. If more, the more thou'st wronged me. My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us. The dark and vicious place where thee he got Cost him his eyes. EDMUND. Thou'st spoken right. 'Tis true. The wheel is come full circle. I am here.

Modern English

EDMUND. Everything you've accused me of, I've done — and more, much more. It will all come out in time. It's over, and so am I. But who are you, the man who's brought me down? If you're noble-born, I forgive you. EDGAR. Then let's forgive each other. I'm no less noble in blood than you are, Edmund. If anything more so — which makes your crimes against me worse. My name is Edgar, and I am your father's son. The gods are just, and they use our secret pleasures as instruments to punish us. The dark, sinful bed where he conceived you cost him his eyes. EDMUND. You've spoken truly. It's the truth. The wheel has come full circle. Here I am.

Original Text

ALBANY. Methought thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee. Let sorrow split my heart if ever I Did hate thee or thy father. EDGAR. Worthy prince, I know't. ALBANY. Where have you hid yourself? How have you known the miseries of your father?

Modern English

ALBANY. I thought your very walk foretold a royal nobility. I must embrace you. May sorrow break my heart if I ever hated you or your father. EDGAR. Worthy prince, I know it. ALBANY. Where have you been hiding? How did you come to know your father's sufferings?

Original Text

EDGAR. By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale, And when 'tis told, oh, that my heart would burst. The bloody proclamation to escape That followed me so near — oh, our lives' sweetness, That we the pain of death would hourly die Rather than die at once — taught me to shift Into a madman's rags, t' assume a semblance That very dogs disdained. And in this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings, Their precious stones new lost; became his guide, Led him, begged for him, saved him from despair. Never — oh, fault! — revealed myself unto him Until some half hour past, when I was armed. Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, I asked his blessing, and from first to last Told him our pilgrimage. But his flawed heart — Alack, too weak the conflict to support — 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, Burst smilingly.

Modern English

EDGAR. By tending to them, my lord. Let me tell a short story, and when it's done, I wish my heart would break. To escape the death warrant that pursued me so closely — oh, how sweet we find life, that we'd endure the agony of dying every hour rather than actually die — I learned to disguise myself in a madman's rags, to put on an appearance that even dogs would turn away from. And dressed like that, I found my father with his bleeding eye sockets, their precious jewels freshly torn out. I became his guide, led him, begged on his behalf, and saved him from despair. I never — and this was my mistake — revealed who I was until about half an hour ago, when I put on this armour. Not certain, but hoping for this very outcome, I asked for his blessing, and told him everything from beginning to end. But his damaged heart, too frail to bear the strain of being torn between two violent extremes — joy and grief — burst with a smile on his face.

Original Text

EDMUND. This speech of yours hath moved me, And shall perchance do good. But speak you on. You look as you had something more to say. ALBANY. If there be more, more woeful, hold it in, For I am almost ready to dissolve, Hearing of this.

Modern English

EDMUND. Your story has moved me, and may yet prompt me to do some good. But go on — you look as though you have more to say. ALBANY. If there's more, and it's worse, keep it to yourself. I'm on the verge of breaking down just hearing this much.

Original Text

*Enter a Gentleman with a bloody knife.* GENTLEMAN. Help, help! Oh, help! EDGAR. What kind of help? ALBANY. Speak, man. EDGAR. What means this bloody knife? GENTLEMAN. 'Tis hot. It smokes. It came even from the heart of — oh, she's dead! ALBANY. Who dead? Speak, man. GENTLEMAN. Your lady, sir, your lady; and her sister By her is poisoned. She confesses it.

Modern English

*A Gentleman enters carrying a bloody knife.* GENTLEMAN. Help, help! Oh, help! EDGAR. What kind of help? ALBANY. Speak, man. EDGAR. What's that bloody knife for? GENTLEMAN. It's still warm. It's still smoking. It came straight from the heart of — oh, she's dead! ALBANY. Who's dead? Speak, man. GENTLEMAN. Your wife, sir. Your wife. And her sister was poisoned by her. She's confessed to it.

Original Text

EDMUND. I was contracted to them both. All three Now marry in an instant. EDGAR. Here comes Kent. *Enter Kent.* ALBANY. Produce the bodies, be they alive or dead. *The bodies of Goneril and Regan are brought out.* This judgement of the heavens, that makes us tremble, Touches us not with pity. Oh, is this he? The time will not allow the compliment Which very manners urges.

Modern English

EDMUND. I was engaged to both of them. Now all three of us are joined in death at the same moment. EDGAR. Here comes Kent. *Kent enters.* ALBANY. Bring out the bodies, whether they're alive or dead. *The bodies of Goneril and Regan are carried out.* This is heaven's judgement, and it makes us tremble, but it doesn't move us to pity. Oh — is this Kent? There's no time for the courtesy that good manners would require.

Original Text

KENT. I am come To bid my King and master aye good night. Is he not here? ALBANY. Great thing of us forgot! Speak, Edmund, where's the King? And where's Cordelia? Seest thou this object, Kent? KENT. Alack, why thus?

Modern English

KENT. I've come to say a final goodnight to my King and master. Is he not here? ALBANY. A terrible oversight — the most important thing we forgot! Edmund, speak — where is the King? Where is Cordelia? Do you see this horror, Kent? KENT. God, why has it come to this?

Original Text

EDMUND. Yet Edmund was beloved. The one the other poisoned for my sake, And after slew herself. ALBANY. Even so. Cover their faces. EDMUND. I pant for life. Some good I mean to do, Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send — Be brief in it — to th' castle, for my writ Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia. Nay, send in time. ALBANY. Run, run! Oh, run! EDGAR. To who, my lord? Who has the office? Send thy token of reprieve. EDMUND. Well thought on. Take my sword. Give it the captain. EDGAR. Haste thee, for thy life. *Exit a Soldier.*

Modern English

EDMUND. And yet, Edmund was loved. One sister poisoned the other for my sake, then killed herself afterward. ALBANY. Just so. Cover their faces. EDMUND. I'm gasping for breath. Let me do one good thing in spite of my own nature. Send someone quickly — there's no time to waste — to the prison. I've issued a death warrant for Lear and for Cordelia. Hurry — send someone now. ALBANY. Run, run! Oh, run! EDGAR. Run to whom, my lord? Who's been given the order? Send your token to call it off. EDMUND. Good thinking. Take my sword. Give it to the captain. EDGAR. Run for your life! *A Soldier races out.*

Original Text

EDMUND. He hath commission from thy wife and me To hang Cordelia in the prison, and To lay the blame upon her own despair, That she fordid herself. ALBANY. The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile. *Edmund is borne off.*

Modern English

EDMUND. He has orders from your wife and me to hang Cordelia in the prison, and then to make it look like she killed herself out of despair. ALBANY. Gods, protect her! Carry him out for now. *Edmund is carried off.*

Original Text

*Enter Lear with Cordelia dead in his arms.* LEAR. Howl, howl, howl! Oh, you are men of stones. Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone forever. I know when one is dead and when one lives. She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass. If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Why, then she lives. KENT. Is this the promised end? EDGAR. Or image of that horror? ALBANY. Fall and cease.

Modern English

*Lear enters, carrying Cordelia's body in his arms.* LEAR. Howl, howl, howl! Oh, you are men made of stone. If I had your tongues and eyes, I'd use them until the sky itself cracked open. She's gone forever. I know the difference between the dead and the living. She's as dead as the ground. Someone lend me a mirror. If her breath can fog or stain the glass, then she's alive. KENT. Is this the end of the world? EDGAR. Or a picture of that horror? ALBANY. Let everything collapse and end.

Original Text

LEAR. This feather stirs. She lives! If it be so, It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows That ever I have felt. KENT. O my good master! LEAR. Prithee, away. EDGAR. 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. LEAR. A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! I might have saved her. Now she's gone forever. Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha! What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft, Gentle, and low — an excellent thing in woman. I killed the slave that was a-hanging thee. GENTLEMAN. 'Tis true, my lords. He did.

Modern English

LEAR. This feather moved. She's alive! If that's true, it's a miracle that would make up for every sorrow I've ever known. KENT. Oh, my good master! LEAR. Get away from me. EDGAR. It's noble Kent, your friend. LEAR. A plague on all of you — murderers, traitors, every one! I could have saved her. Now she's gone forever. Cordelia. Cordelia, wait just a moment. There! What are you saying? Her voice was always soft, gentle, and low — a beautiful quality in a woman. I killed the man who was hanging you. GENTLEMAN. It's true, my lords. He did.

Original Text

LEAR. Did I not, fellow? I have seen the day with my good biting falchion I would have made them skip. I am old now, And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you? Mine eyes are not o' th' best. I'll tell you straight. KENT. If Fortune brag of two she loved and hated, One of them we behold. LEAR. This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent? KENT. The same — your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?

Modern English

LEAR. Didn't I, though? There was a time when, with my good sharp sword, I'd have made them jump. But I'm old now, and all this grief has worn me down. Who are you? My eyes aren't what they used to be. Give me a moment. KENT. If Fortune could point to the two people she treated most extremely — the most blessed and the most cursed — we're looking at one of them. LEAR. Everything's going dim. Aren't you Kent? KENT. The same. Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?

Original Text

LEAR. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that. He'll strike, and quickly too. He's dead and rotten. KENT. No, my good lord. I am the very man — LEAR. I'll see that straight. KENT. — that from your first of difference and decay Have followed your sad steps. LEAR. You are welcome hither. KENT. Nor no man else. All's cheerless, dark, and deadly. Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves, And desperately are dead. LEAR. Ay, so I think.

Modern English

LEAR. He's a good man, I can tell you that much. Quick with his fists, too. He's dead and gone. KENT. No, my good lord. I am that very man — LEAR. I'll look into that soon enough. KENT. — who from the very start of your misfortunes has followed you through every painful step. LEAR. You're welcome here. KENT. No one is welcome here. Everything is bleak, dark, and fatal. Your two eldest daughters have destroyed themselves and died in desperation. LEAR. Yes, I think so.

Original Text

ALBANY. He knows not what he says, and vain is it That we present us to him. *Enter a Messenger.* EDGAR. Very bootless. MESSENGER. Edmund is dead, my lord. ALBANY. That's but a trifle here. You lords and noble friends, know our intent. What comfort to this great decay may come Shall be applied. For us, we will resign, During the life of this old majesty, To him our absolute power; you, to your rights, With boot, and such addition as your honours Have more than merited. All friends shall taste The wages of their virtue, and all foes The cup of their deservings. Oh, see, see!

Modern English

ALBANY. He doesn't understand what he's saying. It's pointless for us to try to reach him now. *A Messenger enters.* EDGAR. Completely pointless. MESSENGER. Edmund is dead, my lord. ALBANY. That hardly matters now. My lords and noble friends, hear my intentions. Whatever comfort can be brought to this ruined king will be given. As for myself, I resign all absolute power to him for as long as this old majesty lives. And to you all, your rightful lands, along with additional honours your loyalty has more than earned. Every friend will receive the reward their virtue deserves, and every enemy the punishment they've earned. Oh — look, look!

Original Text

LEAR. And my poor fool is hanged. No, no, no life? Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more. Never, never, never, never, never. Pray you, undo this button. Thank you, sir. Do you see this? Look on her. Look, her lips. Look there. Look there! *He dies.*

Modern English

LEAR. And my poor fool is hanged. No, no — no life? Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, and you have no breath at all? You'll never come back. Never, never, never, never, never. Please, undo this button. Thank you, sir. Do you see this? Look at her. Look — her lips. Look there. Look there! *He dies.*

Original Text

EDGAR. He faints! My lord, my lord! KENT. Break, heart, I prithee, break. EDGAR. Look up, my lord. KENT. Vex not his ghost. Oh, let him pass. He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer. EDGAR. He is gone indeed. KENT. The wonder is he hath endured so long. He but usurped his life.

Modern English

EDGAR. He's fainted! My lord! My lord! KENT. Break, heart. Please break. EDGAR. Look up, my lord! KENT. Don't disturb his spirit. Oh, let him go. He'd despise anyone who would stretch him out longer on the torture rack of this brutal world. EDGAR. He really is gone. KENT. The miracle is that he lasted as long as he did. He was only borrowing time.

Original Text

ALBANY. Bear them from hence. Our present business Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you twain, Rule in this realm and the gored state sustain. KENT. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go. My master calls me. I must not say no. EDGAR. The weight of this sad time we must obey. Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most. We that are young Shall never see so much, nor live so long. *Exeunt with a dead march.*

Modern English

ALBANY. Carry them all away. Our business now is nothing but grief. My dear friends, you two — rule this kingdom and hold the wounded state together. KENT. I have a journey to make, sir, and soon. My master is calling. I cannot refuse. EDGAR. We must bear the weight of this terrible time. Say what we truly feel, not what sounds proper. The oldest among us suffered the most. We who are young will never see so much sorrow, or endure so long. *They exit to the sound of a funeral march.*

King Lear

Act 5, Scene 3

Act 5, Scene 3