Good dawning to thee, friend: art of this house?
Good morning to you, friend: are you from this household?
Good morning, friend—are you from around here?
morning are u from this place
Ay.
Ay.
Ay.
Ay.
Where may we set our horses?
Where can we put our horses?
Where can we leave our horses?
where can we put the horses
I’ the mire.
In the mud.
In the mud.
in the mud
Prithee, if thou lov’st me, tell me.
Please, if you care about me, tell me.
Come on, if you like me, just tell me.
please just tell me
I love thee not.
I don't like you.
I can't stand you.
hate u
Why then, I care not for thee.
Well then, I don't care about you.
Fine then, I don't care about you either.
ok so i don't care bout u
If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee care for me.
If I had you somewhere I could get hold of you, I would make you respect me.
If I had you alone, I'd make you regret it.
if i could get u alone i'd make u sorry
Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not.
Why do you treat me this way? I don't know you.
Why are you treating me like this? I don't even know you.
why u doing this i don't even know u
Fellow, I know thee.
Man, I know exactly who you are.
Oh, I know you alright.
yeah i know u
What dost thou know me for?
What do you think you know about me?
What's your angle—what do you think you figured out?
what u figure bout me
A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud,
shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy,
worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking, whoreson,
glass-gazing, super-serviceable, finical rogue;
one trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of
good service, and art nothing but the composition of a
knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel
bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining, if thou
deniest the least syllable of thy addition.
You're a rogue; a scoundrel; someone who eats scraps; a base, arrogant, shallow, miserable, low-class, hundred-pound, disgusting, worsted-stocking rogue; a cowardly, litigious, immoral, self-absorbed, overeager, fussy troublemaker; a pathetic servant who would become a brothel keeper for wages, and you're nothing but a mixture of rogue, beggar, coward, pimp, and the son and heir of a mixed-breed female dog: someone I will beat into crying and wailing, if you deny even the smallest insult I call you.
You're a complete fraud—a scum bag who eats other people's leftovers, a pathetic, arrogant, shallow, broke, disgusting loser in cheap stockings. You're a spineless liar, a show-off with no real guts, and you'd pimp yourself out for a paycheck. You're basically a thief, a beggar, a coward, and a traitor, born of a dog. If you deny any of that, I'll beat you until you can't stop crying.
you're a total fraud & loser spineless & pathetic i'll beat u til u cry
Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail on one that’s
neither known of thee nor knows thee?
What a monstrous fellow you are, to rail and criticize at someone you don't know and who doesn't know you!
Who do you think you are, ranting at a complete stranger?
ranting at someone u don't know
What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou knowest me! Is
it two days ago since I tripped up thy heels and beat thee before
the King? Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon
shines; I’ll make a sop o’ the moonshine of you: draw, you
whoreson cullionly barber-monger, draw!
What a shameless servant you are, to deny you know me! Is it only two days since I kicked you over and beat you in front of the King? Draw your sword, you criminal: for although it's night, the moon shines; I'll make a puddle of the moonlight out of you: draw, you dishonorable, cowardly barber's thug, draw!
You've got some nerve pretending you don't know me! I beat you senseless in front of the King just two days ago! Draw your sword, you pathetic thug—yeah, it's night, but the moon gives plenty of light. I'll cut you to pieces with the moonlight. Come on, you pathetic lackey, fight me!
u knew me 2 days ago i beat u in front the king draw ur sword coward
Away! I have nothing to do with thee.
Leave me alone! I want nothing to do with you.
Get away from me! I'm not fighting you.
leave me alone
Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against the King; and
take vanity the puppet’s part against the royalty of her father:
draw, you rogue, or I’ll so carbonado your shanks:—draw, you rascal;
come your ways!
Fight me, you scoundrel: you came here with letters from the vain princess against the dignity of her father; draw your sword, you rogue, or I'll slash your legs to ribbons—fight me, you scoundrel; let's go!
Draw your sword, you jerk—you're here with letters from that spoiled princess against her father the King. Fight me, or I'll hack your legs to pieces!
draw ur sword u're backing that spoiled princess i'll cut u up
Help, ho! murder! help!
Help! Murder! Help me!
Help! Murder! Somebody help me!
help murder help
Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat slave, strike!
Strike, you servant; stand, you rogue, stand your ground; you tidy wretch, strike!
Come on, hit me! Don't run, you coward! Fight back!
fight don't run coward
Help, ho! murder! murder!
Help! Murder! Murder!
Help! Murder! Somebody help me!
murder save me help
Gloucester and Servants.
Gloucester and Servants.
Gloucester and his servants.
gloucester & servants enter
The stocks were a specific legal punishment in Elizabethan England: physical restraint in public, typically used for petty criminals, vagrants, and minor offenders. They were associated with public humiliation rather than serious crime — a punishment calibrated to shame, not destroy.
Gloucester understands exactly why Cornwall's order is extraordinary, and he says so: the stocks are 'such as basest and contemptedest wretches for pilfering and most common trespasses are punished with.' A king's messenger is not a petty thief. To treat him as one is to insult his master. The political logic is clear: how you treat someone's representative tells you how you regard the person they represent.
Regan and Cornwall know this. The stocks are not a disproportionate reaction to Kent's behavior — they are a precisely calibrated message to Lear. You matter so little to us that we will put your man in the stocks and dare you to respond. It is the first direct act of aggression against Lear's dignity since the 'my lady's father' of 1-4.
The Fool's response, when he sees Kent in the stocks, is characteristic: 'Ha, ha, he wears cruel garters.' The comedy doesn't hide the horror. It makes it bearable enough to witness.
How now! What’s the matter? Part!
What's going on here? What's the problem? Separate!
What's happening? Stop fighting!
what's going on stop fighting
With you, goodman boy, if you please: come, I’ll flesh ye; come
on, young master.
I'll fight you, young man, if you're ready: come on, I'll give you a taste of real combat; come on, boy.
I'll fight you too, boy, if you want. Let me show you what real combat is like.
i'll fight u 2 kid i'll show u real combat
Weapons! arms! What’s the matter here?
Weapons! Get your weapons! What's happening here?
Weapons! Get armed! What's going on?
get weapons what's happening
Keep peace, upon your lives, he dies that strikes again. What is the
matter?
Stop this violence, on pain of death; anyone who strikes again dies. What is the cause of this?
Stop it now, both of you—anyone who throws another punch dies. What started this?
stop now or die what started this
The messengers from our sister and the King.
These are the messengers from our sister and the King.
They've been sent here from our sister and the King.
sister & king sent these guys
What is your difference? Speak.
What's your disagreement? Explain.
What's your problem? Talk.
what's the problem speak
I am scarce in breath, my lord.
I'm barely able to catch my breath, my lord.
I can hardly breathe, my lord.
can't breathe
No marvel, you have so bestirr’d your valour. You cowardly
rascal, nature disclaims in thee; a tailor made thee.
No wonder you're out of breath from all that effort. You cowardly scoundrel, nature refuses to claim you; a tailor must have made you.
That's hilarious—worn out from all that fighting. You pathetic coward, you're not even human; you were tailored together from scraps.
lol out of breath from fighting u're not even human a tailor made u
Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man?
You're a peculiar person: can a tailor make a man?
That's absurd—can a tailor actually create a man?
tailor can't make a man lol
Ay, a tailor, sir: a stonecutter or a painter could not have
made him so ill, though he had been but two years at the trade.
Yes, a tailor, sir: even a stonecutter or painter couldn't have made him so badly, even if they'd only been at it for two years.
Yeah, a tailor made him—badly. A stonecutter or painter couldn't have done a worse job, even as beginners.
yeah a tailor made him even a stonecutter couldn't do worse
Speak yet, how grew your quarrel?
Go on, explain how your argument started.
Well, how did you two end up fighting?
how did this start
This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared at suit of his grey
beard,—
This old thug, sir, whose life I spared only because of his gray beard—
This old brute, sir, and I only haven't killed him because he's got gray hair—
this old thug i spared him just cuz he's old
Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you’ll
give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar and
daub the walls of a jakes with him. Spare my grey beard, you wagtail?
You disgraceful fool! You're like an unnecessary letter! My lord, if you allow me, I will beat this disreputable scoundrel into powder and use him to plaster the bathroom walls. Should I spare my gray beard out of politeness to you?
You're like the letter Z—completely useless! My lord, let me beat this creep to pieces and paint the bathroom walls with him. Am I supposed to spare my gray hair for your sake?
u're pointless like z let me beat him 2 dust
Peace, sirrah!
You beastly knave, know you no reverence?
Be silent! You beastly knave, do you know no reverence?
Shut up! You disgusting brute, where's your sense of decency?
shut up u gross
Yes, sir; but anger hath a privilege.
Yes, sir; but anger allows me to speak freely.
Yes, sir; but anger lets me say what I think.
yeah but anger gives me freedom
Why art thou angry?
Why are you so angry?
Why are you so furious?
why r u so mad
That such a slave as this should wear a sword,
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these,
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain
Which are too intrince t’unloose; smooth every passion
That in the natures of their lords rebel;
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods;
Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks
With every gale and vary of their masters,
Knowing naught, like dogs, but following.
A plague upon your epileptic visage!
Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool?
Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain,
I’d drive ye cackling home to Camelot.
That such a worthless man should wear a sword when he has no honest character. Parasites like this, like rats, often bite through the sacred bonds that hold people together, which are too tightly interwoven to break; they smooth over every passion that in their master's nature rebels; they bring oil to fire, snow to colder moods; they deny, affirm, and turn their falcon-like beaks with every wind and shift of their master's wishes, knowing nothing, like dogs, but how to follow. A plague on your convulsive face! Do you smile at my speeches as if I were a fool? Goose, if I had you on Salisbury Plain, I would drive you honking home to Camelot.
A scoundrel like this shouldn't be allowed to carry a sword—he's got no real character. Guys like him are like rats that bite through the strongest bonds between people. They smooth things over whenever their boss gets upset. They feed his anger, cool his rage, whatever he needs—they just flip and flop with whatever wind blows. They act like dogs, just following without thinking. Your face makes me sick—you're twitching like you're having a seizure. Do you seriously think I'm an idiot? If I caught you on an open field, I'd chase you all the way back to your castle like a goose.
this coward shouldn't have a sword he's like a rat biting sacred bonds he just follows like a dog u make me sick
What, art thou mad, old fellow?
Are you crazy, old man?
Are you out of your mind, old man?
r u insane
How fell you out? Say that.
How did you two come into conflict? Tell us.
How did this start? Tell me.
how did it start
No contraries hold more antipathy
Than I and such a knave.
No two opposites are more contrary than I am to such a scoundrel.
I've never hated anything more than I hate this guy.
i hate him more than anything
Why dost thou call him knave? What is his fault?
Why do you call him a scoundrel? What has he done wrong?
Why are you calling him a scoundrel? What did he do?
why's he a scoundrel what did he do
His countenance likes me not.
I don't like the way he looks.
His appearance doesn't appeal to me.
his face is gross
No more perchance does mine, or his, or hers.
Perhaps my face isn't pleasing to you either, or his, or hers.
Maybe you don't like how I look either, or he does, or she does.
maybe u don't like my face either
Sir, ’tis my occupation to be plain:
I have seen better faces in my time
Than stands on any shoulder that I see
Before me at this instant.
Sir, it is my job to speak plainly: I have seen better-looking people in my time than anyone I see standing in front of me right now.
Sir, I'm just a straight talker: I've seen better-looking people in my life than anyone here right now.
i'm just honest i've seen better looking ppl
This is some fellow
Who, having been prais’d for bluntness, doth affect
A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb
Quite from his nature: he cannot flatter, he,
An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth!
An they will take it, so; if not, he’s plain.
These kind of knaves I know which in this plainness
Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends
Than twenty silly-ducking observants
That stretch their duties nicely.
This is one of those men who, having been praised for being blunt, now affects a rude rudeness and strains his natural manner: he can't flatter, no, an honest mind and plain speaking, he must tell the truth! If they accept it, fine; if not, then he's blunt. I know these kinds of scoundrels who hide more trickery and corrupted goals under this bluntness than twenty ridiculous, bowing servants who work at their duties carefully.
This is the type of guy who got praised for being blunt once, and now he's overcompensating, acting unnecessarily rude and going against his real nature. He can't flatter anyone—oh no, he's too honest, too blunt, he must tell the truth! If people like it, great; if not, he's still blunt. I've seen guys like this before—they hide way more manipulation and corruption under all that fake honesty than you'd get from twenty brown-nosers working their tails off.
he's fake blunt trying too hard to be rude hiding corruption
Kent's sustained insult of Oswald is one of the funniest passages in the play — and one of the most philosophically serious. At first it looks like simple comic relief: the blunt soldier can't stop insulting the fussy steward. But the content of the insult is specific and deliberate.
Each of Kent's accusations targets a different dimension of Oswald's failure. The financial insults (hundred-pound, three-suited, worsted-stocking) strip his pretensions to gentlemanly status. The behavioral insults (glass-gazing, superserviceable) identify his vanity and his excessive eagerness to please. The moral insults (knave, coward, pandar) describe what his service actually amounts to: enabling his mistress's worst impulses without moral resistance.
What Kent is describing is not just a bad man. He's describing a type: the perfect instrument, the person whose identity is entirely constituted by his employer's will. Oswald has no values that aren't Goneril's values. He has no loyalties that aren't her loyalties. He would 'be a bawd in way of good service' — he would act as a pimp if that served her interests.
This is what Kent finds intolerable: not the personal rudeness, but the moral nullity. A man with no independent moral center who will do absolutely anything for his mistress is more dangerous than an outright villain. At least villains have their own agenda.
Sir, in good faith, in sincere verity,
Under th’allowance of your great aspect,
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire
On flickering Phoebus’ front,—
Sir, in good faith, in sincere truth, under the permission of your great authority, whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire on the flickering brow of Phoebus—
Sir, honestly, under your mighty authority, your power shines like the sun's bright rays—
sir with respect u shine bright like sun
What mean’st by this?
What do you mean by this?
What are you getting at?
what do u mean
To go out of my dialect, which you discommend so much. I know,
sir, I am no flatterer: he that beguiled you in a plain accent
was a plain knave; which, for my part, I will not be, though I
should win your displeasure to entreat me to’t.
To speak differently than the plain way you disapprove of so much. I know, sir, I am no flatterer: whoever tricked you with plain, honest words was an honest scoundrel; which, for my part, I will not be, even if I should lose your favor by refusing to be so.
To talk different than the straight way you hate so much. Look, I'm not a flatterer, sir: anyone who fooled you with honest talk was at least honest. I won't pretend like that, even if it costs me your good opinion.
i'm not a flatterer i won't fake it for u
What was the offence you gave him?
What did you do to offend him?
What did you do to piss him off?
what'd u do 2 him
I never gave him any:
It pleas’d the King his master very late
To strike at me, upon his misconstruction;
When he, compact, and flattering his displeasure,
Tripp’d me behind; being down, insulted, rail’d
And put upon him such a deal of man,
That worthied him, got praises of the King
For him attempting who was self-subdu’d;
And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit,
Drew on me here again.
I never did anything to him: It pleased the King, his master, very recently to attack me, based on his misunderstanding; when he, in agreement with that, and flattering his anger, tripped me from behind; being down, insulted me, ranted against me and acted so aggressively toward me, that this seemed worthy of him, earned him the King's praise for attacking someone who had already surrendered; and, fired up from this daring exploit, attacked me again here.
I didn't do anything to him: The King just decided recently to beat me up because he misunderstood something. This guy agreed with the King, played up his anger, and kicked me when I was down, then insulted me and acted all tough. The King actually praised him for attacking someone who was already defeated. Now fired up from that, he's attacking me again.
i did nothing king beat me this guy kicked me down king praised him 4 it
None of these rogues and cowards
But Ajax is their fool.
All these rogues and cowards, and Ajax would be their fool.
These rogues and cowards would make even Ajax look foolish.
these cowards would make a fool of even ajax
Fetch forth the stocks!
You stubborn ancient knave, you reverent braggart,
We’ll teach you.
Bring out the stocks! You stubborn old scoundrel, you so-called honored boaster, we'll teach you.
Fetch the stocks! You stubborn old fool, you pompous braggart, we'll show you!
get the stocks we'll teach u old man
Sir, I am too old to learn:
Call not your stocks for me: I serve the King;
On whose employment I was sent to you:
You shall do small respect, show too bold malice
Against the grace and person of my master,
Stocking his messenger.
Sir, I'm too old to learn new lessons: don't put me in stocks: I serve the King; on whose authority I was sent to you: You show little respect and display too much aggressive malice against the dignity and person of my master, putting his messenger in stocks.
Sir, I'm too old to be taught lessons: don't put me in stocks: I serve the King, and he sent me here to you. You're showing huge disrespect to the King by putting his messenger in chains.
i serve the king his messenger shouldn't b in stocks
Fetch forth the stocks!
As I have life and honour, there shall he sit till noon.
Bring out the stocks! By my life and honor, he will sit there until noon.
Fetch the stocks! I swear, he'll sit there until noon.
get the stocks he'll sit there til noon
Till noon! Till night, my lord; and all night too!
Until noon! Until night, my lord; and all night as well!
Till noon? Till night, my lord, and through the whole night too!
til night & all night 2
Why, madam, if I were your father’s dog,
You should not use me so.
Why, madam, if I were even your father's dog, you shouldn't treat me this way.
Madam, even if I were your father's dog, you wouldn't treat me like this.
even a dog gets better treatment
Sir, being his knave, I will.
Sir, since you are his servant, I will.
Sir, since you're his servant, I will.
you're his servant i will
This is a fellow of the selfsame colour
Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks!
This is a man of the same type our sister described. Come, bring the stocks away!
This is the same kind of guy our sister told us about. Come on, bring the stocks!
he's like sister said get the stocks
Let me beseech your grace not to do so:
His fault is much, and the good King his master
Will check him for’t: your purpos’d low correction
Is such as basest and contemned’st wretches
For pilferings and most common trespasses,
Are punish’d with. The King must take it ill
That he, so slightly valued in his messenger,
Should have him thus restrained.
Please, your grace, don't do this: His fault is great, but the good King his master will punish him for it: your intended punishment is such as the lowest and most despised wretches for theft and most common crimes are punished with. The King will take it badly that he, valued so lightly in his messenger, should have him thus restrained.
Please, your grace, don't do this. Yes, he was wrong, but the King will punish him. This kind of punishment is for thieves and common criminals. The King will be furious that you're treating his messenger this way.
don't do this king will b furious this is 4 thieves
I’ll answer that.
I’ll answer that.
I’ll answer that.
I’ll answer that.
My sister may receive it much more worse,
To have her gentleman abus’d, assaulted,
For following her affairs. Put in his legs.
My sister may take it even worse, to have her servant treated badly, attacked, for following her orders. Put his legs in the stocks.
My sister will be even more upset if we let her servant get beat up like this. Put his legs in the stocks.
sister will b mad if we hurt her messenger
Come, my good lord, away.
Come, my lord, let's go.
Come on, let's leave.
let's go
I am sorry for thee, friend; ’tis the Duke’s pleasure,
Whose disposition, all the world well knows,
Will not be rubb’d nor stopp’d; I’ll entreat for thee.
I'm sorry for you, friend; it is the Duke's wish, whose nature, everyone knows well, cannot be changed or stopped; I'll ask for your release.
I feel bad for you, friend. The Duke wants this, and you know his character—he won't budge. But I'll try to help you.
sorry man duke won't listen but i'll try 2 help
Pray do not, sir: I have watch’d, and travell’d hard;
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I’ll whistle.
A good man’s fortune may grow out at heels:
Give you good morrow!
Please don't, sir: I have watched through the night and traveled hard; some time I will sleep, the rest I'll whistle through. Even a good man's luck may wear thin. Have a good day!
Please don't bother, sir. I've been awake and traveling hard. I'll sleep some, whistle through the rest. Even a good man's luck runs out. Have a good day!
don't bother i'll sleep & whistle good luck runs out
The Duke’s to blame in this: ’twill be ill taken.
The Duke is to blame for this: it will be viewed badly.
The Duke's making a mistake here. This will backfire.
duke's wrong this will blow up
Good King, that must approve the common saw,
Thou out of heaven’s benediction com’st
To the warm sun.
Approach, thou beacon to this under globe,
That by thy comfortable beams I may
Peruse this letter. Nothing almost sees miracles
But misery. I know ’tis from Cordelia,
Who hath most fortunately been inform’d
Of my obscured course. And shall find time
From this enormous state, seeking to give
Losses their remedies. All weary and o’erwatch’d,
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold
This shameful lodging.
Fortune, good night: smile once more, turn thy wheel!
Good King, you prove the old saying: when you leave heaven's blessing you fall into the warm sun. Come here, you light to this lower world, so by your warm rays I can read this letter. Only in hardship do people see miracles. I know this is from Cordelia, who has been fortunately told about my hidden journey. She will find time, even from this crisis, to give help to those who suffer loss. I'm exhausted and sleep-deprived; let my tired eyes close and not see this shameful place. Fortune, good night: turn your wheel of luck once more!
Good King, so that's the old saying—when you leave heaven behind, you fall into the hot sun. Come on, you light of this world, shine so I can read this letter. People only see miracles when they're miserable. This has to be from Cordelia—she must know where I am. Even with everything falling apart, she'll find a way to help people who lost everything. I'm so tired. Let me close my eyes and not look at this awful place. Fortune, good night—spin your wheel and give me a break!
king shine so i can read must b from cordelia even in crisis she helps i'm so tired fortune turn 4 me once
The Reckoning
Kent (as Caius) arrives at Gloucester's castle carrying Lear's letter for Regan. He meets Oswald, Goneril's steward, arriving with a letter from Goneril. Kent despises Oswald on sight — and says so at exhausting, virtuosic length. When he draws his sword, Cornwall and Regan emerge and shut it down. Cornwall puts Kent in the stocks as punishment. Gloucester protests, appalled — a king's messenger in the stocks is an insult to the king. Cornwall doesn't care. Regan agrees. Kent is left overnight in the stocks, where he reads a letter from Cordelia and waits for morning.
If this happened today…
A CEO's most loyal COO shows up at a regional office to deliver a message. He runs into the head of communications for the CEO's elder daughter — a man he's seen before and recognized as a sycophantic political operator. He stops the man in the parking lot and delivers a four-paragraph verbal evisceration of his character, class origins, and professional ethics. When they start to escalate physically, the daughter's husband comes out and has the COO put in a storage closet overnight — while reminding everyone that he has the authority to do this now. The COO sits in the dark reading a text message from the youngest daughter and waiting for morning.