Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural dealing. When I
desired their leave that I might pity him, they took from me the
use of mine own house; charged me on pain of perpetual displeasure,
neither to speak of him, entreat for him, or any way sustain him.
Alas, Edmund, I don't like this unnatural treatment. When I asked for permission to show mercy to the King, they took away my control of my own house and threatened me with their permanent displeasure if I speak about him, ask for his forgiveness, or help him in any way.
Alas, Edmund, I don't like what's happening here. When I tried to get permission to show the King some mercy, they took control of my own house and told me if I ever talk about him, ask for anything for him, or help him, I'll face their permanent anger.
i don't like this i asked to help the king they took my house from me they said if i help him they'll be mad forever
Edmund's aside at the end of 3-3 is compact to the point of being almost abstract: 'This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me that which my father loses — no less than all of it.' The language is transactional, as if Edmund is running a ledger. His father's property, position, and safety are assets that can be transferred by a single act of disclosure. Edmund does not appear to feel what most people would feel at this moment — the crossing of a final boundary. He is consistent with his soliloquy in Act 1: he has rejected filial obligation as a social fiction. Nature is his goddess; power is its reward. Gloucester's mercy toward Lear is, from Edmund's perspective, simply Gloucester making a fatal error. Edmund's job is to profit from it.
Most savage and unnatural!
That is most savage and unnatural!
That's absolutely savage and unnatural!
that's so savage & unnatural!
Go to; say you nothing. There is division between the Dukes,
and a worse matter than that: I have received a letter this
night;—’tis dangerous to be spoken;—I have locked the letter
in my closet: these injuries the King now bears will be revenged
home; there’s part of a power already footed: we must incline to
the King. I will look him, and privily relieve him: go you and
maintain talk with the Duke, that my charity be not of him
perceived: if he ask for me, I am ill, and gone to bed. If I
die for it, as no less is threatened me, the King my old master
must be relieved. There is some strange thing toward, Edmund;
pray you be careful.
Say nothing. There is division between the Dukes, and something worse than that. I received a letter tonight—dangerous to speak of—and I have locked it away. The wrongs the King now bears will be avenged completely. There are already troops arriving. We must support the King. I will find him secretly and help him. You continue talking with the Duke so he doesn't know I'm helping him. If he asks for me, say I'm ill and in bed. Even if it costs me my life, as I'm threatened, the King my old master must be helped. Something strange is happening, Edmund. Please be careful.
Don't say a word. There's fighting between the Dukes, and something even worse is happening. I got a letter tonight—it's dangerous to even talk about—so I locked it away. The King is going to get revenge for what's been done to him. There are already soldiers landing. We need to stand with the King. I'm going to secretly find him and help him. You keep the Duke talking so he doesn't figure out I'm helping. If he asks where I am, tell him I'm sick in bed. Even if they threaten to kill me—and they have—I have to help the King, my old master. Something strange is about to happen, Edmund. Be very careful.
say nothing dukes are divided i got a dangerous letter soldiers are already landing we must help the king i'll secretly find him you keep duke talking if he asks say i'm sick i'll help the king even if they kill me something strange is coming
Gloucester has just been deceived by Edmund about Edgar — he banished his loyal son on Edmund's fabricated evidence. Now he turns to Edmund again, this time to confide the most dangerous information he possesses. The dramatic cruelty is exquisite: Gloucester cannot know that Edmund is the wrong person to trust, because Edmund's manipulation of him over Edgar was so complete. He sees Edmund as the loyal son. In fact, the scene stages two kinds of blindness simultaneously: the outer blindness that is about to happen to Gloucester (physically, in 3-7) and the inner blindness that has already happened (his inability to see Edmund as he is). Both are versions of the same failure of sight. The play will force Gloucester to reach the truth about Edgar and Edmund only after the physical blinding — sight restored through its absence.
This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the Duke
Instantly know; and of that letter too.
This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me
That which my father loses, no less than all:
The younger rises when the old doth fall.
This forbidden act of kindness, and the letter too, the Duke shall know instantly. This seems like a fair reward coming to me, and must bring me everything my father loses, nothing less than all his estate. The younger rises when the old one falls.
I'm going to tell the Duke right away about your forbidden charity and that letter. This looks like something I deserve to be rewarded for—it's going to get me everything your father is about to lose, everything. The young rise up when the old fall down.
i'm telling the duke everything about your forbidden charity & the letter i deserve to be rewarded i'll get everything your father loses the young rise when the old fall
The Reckoning
A brief, lethal scene. Gloucester — moved by Lear's suffering, appalled by the treatment of an old man cast out in a storm — makes the decision that will cost him his eyes. He confides in Edmund, of all people: the son whose very existence proves Gloucester's earlier sin, the son who has just successfully displaced Edgar. The audience watches in horror as Gloucester trusts the one person in the world who will destroy him. Edmund's aside at the end is chilling in its efficiency: no hesitation, no guilt visible, just calculation. 'The younger rises when the old doth fall.' The catastrophe is already set in motion before Gloucester leaves the room.
If this happened today…
A manager, troubled by what's being done to someone who has been pushed out, tells a colleague in confidence: 'I've heard from people who want to put things right — I'm going to help.' The colleague nods sympathetically. As soon as the manager leaves, he picks up his phone. He's going straight to the people who pushed the man out. He's going to use this information to advance himself.