Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter:
The tyranny of the open night’s too rough
For nature to endure.
Here is the place, my lord. Good my lord, go inside. The cruelty of the open night is too harsh for human nature to endure.
This is the place, my lord. Please go inside. The open night is too cruel and harsh for anyone to survive out here.
here's the place go inside the open night is too harsh
Let me alone.
Let me alone.
Let me alone.
Let me alone.
Good my lord, enter here.
Please, my lord, go inside here.
My lord, I beg you to take shelter in this place.
get inside now please
Wilt break my heart?
Will you break my heart?
Are you going to break my heart?
are you breaking my heart?
I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter.
I would rather break my own heart. Good my lord, please go inside.
I'd rather break my own heart. Please, my lord, go inside.
i'd rather break my own heart please go in
Thou think’st ’tis much that this contentious storm
Invades us to the skin: so ’tis to thee,
But where the greater malady is fix’d,
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou’dst shun a bear;
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea,
Thou’dst meet the bear i’ the mouth. When the mind’s
free,
The body’s delicate: the tempest in my mind
Doth from my senses take all feeling else
Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude!
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand
For lifting food to’t? But I will punish home;
No, I will weep no more. In such a night
To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure:
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril!
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that;
No more of that.
You think this contentious storm that soaks us is a great thing. It is to you. But where the greater wound is fixed, the lesser wound is hardly felt. You would flee from a bear, but if your escape led toward the raging sea, you would meet the bear in its mouth. When the mind is free, the body is delicate. But the tempest in my mind takes from my senses all feeling except what beats there—filial ingratitude! Is it not as if this mouth should tear this hand for lifting food to it? But I will punish severely. No, I will weep no more. On such a night to shut me out! Pour on! I will endure. On such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril! Your old kind father, whose open heart gave everything—O, that way madness lies. Let me avoid that. No more of that.
You think this storm soaking us is a big deal. Maybe it is to you. But when the bigger wound is in here, the smaller wound doesn't matter. You'd run from a bear, but if your escape route was toward a raging sea, you'd meet that bear head-on. When your mind is at peace, your body feels every little pain. But the storm inside my mind has taken away all my senses except what's breaking my heart—my children's ingratitude! It's like my mouth tearing off the hand that feeds it. I'm going to make them pay. No, I won't cry anymore. On a night like this to throw me out! Come on, rain! I can take it. On a night like this! O Regan, Goneril! Your old father who gave you everything—no, I can't think about that or I'll go mad. Let me not go there.
you think this storm is bad but my inside is worse when your mind is broken body pain doesn't matter like my mouth tearing the hand that feeds it my daughters' ingratitude is killing me on a night like this they threw me out i'll endure i won't cry i can't think about it or i'll go mad
Good my lord, enter here.
Please, my lord, go inside here.
My lord, you need to get into shelter right away.
you gotta get inside
Prithee go in thyself; seek thine own ease:
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder
On things would hurt me more. But I’ll go in.
Please go inside yourself to find comfort. This tempest won't allow me to think about things that would hurt me more. But I will go inside.
You go inside and get comfortable. This storm is actually keeping me from thinking about things that would hurt even more. But I'll go in.
you go inside & get comfortable this storm keeps me from painful thoughts but i'll go in
[_To the Fool._] In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty,
Nay, get thee in. I’ll pray, and then I’ll sleep.
Go inside, boy; you go first. Poor houseless wretch, get inside. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep.
Get inside, boy, go ahead of me. You poor homeless thing, get in there. I'm gonna pray and then get some sleep.
go inside first boy poor homeless thing get in i'll pray then sleep
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop’d and window’d raggedness, defend you
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta’en
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them
And show the heavens more just.
Poor, naked, homeless people, wherever you are, who suffer the beating of this merciless storm, how will your exposed heads and starving bodies, your tattered, torn rags, protect you from weather like this? Oh, I have cared too little about this! You rich and proud, take your medicine; expose yourself to feel what the wretched feel, so you can share your excess with them and prove to heaven you are just.
You poor, naked, homeless people out there, wherever you are, beaten down by this cruel storm—how can your exposed heads and hungry bodies, your torn-up rags, possibly protect you from weather like this? Oh, I've cared way too little about people like you! You rich and proud, take your medicine; go out and feel what it's like to be wretched, so you can give your excess to the poor and show heaven you actually care.
poor homeless ppl suffering in storm how do u survive i havent cared enough rich ppl expose urselves feel what wretched feel
[_Within._] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom!
Nine feet deep, nine feet deep! Poor Tom!
Nine feet down, nine feet down! Poor Tom!
falling deeper and deeper im poor tom im drowning
Come not in here, nuncle, here’s a spirit.
Help me, help me!
Don't come in here, uncle, there's a spirit here. Help me, help me!
Uncle stay back! There's something supernatural in this place! I need help now!
uncle no! ghost here! help!!!
Give me thy hand. Who’s there?
Give me your hand. Who is there?
Take my hand. Identify yourself.
grab my hand who are you?
A spirit, a spirit: he says his name’s poor Tom.
A spirit, a spirit! He says his name is poor Tom.
It's a phantom, a specter! He tells me his name is poor Tom.
supernatural being here says name is poor tom
Lear's phrase 'unaccommodated man' is the play's most searching philosophical formulation. 'Accommodation' in the period meant not just housing but everything that makes human life human: shelter, clothing, food, social structure, title, law, love. To be 'unaccommodated' is to be stripped of all of it. What Lear sees in Poor Tom is not a madman but a proof: this is what remains when everything is removed. The 'poor, bare, forked animal' is the human truth beneath the social construction. This insight connects to Renaissance debates about the nature of humanity — is human dignity inherent, or is it constructed? Lear's answer in this scene is disturbing: it seems constructed, borrowed, easily stripped away. But the play will not rest there. The question of what remains — what, if anything, is left after the stripping — is what the last two acts are about.
What art thou that dost grumble there i’ the straw?
Come forth.
What are you that grumbles there in the straw? Come out.
What are you grumbling about in that straw? Come out here.
what are you grumbling about? come out
madman.
A madman.
He's a madman.
madman
Away! the foul fiend follows me! Through the sharp hawthorn blows the
cold wind. Humh! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.
Away! The foul devil follows me! Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. Go to your cold bed and warm yourself.
Get away! The devil is after me! The cold wind blows through the sharp thorns. Go to your cold bed and try to warm yourself.
the devil follows me! cold wind through hawthorn go to your cold bed try to warm yourself
Didst thou give all to thy two daughters?
And art thou come to this?
Did you give everything to your two daughters? And have you come to this state?
Did you give everything to your two daughters? And now look at you.
did you give everything to your daughters? and now you're here?
Who gives anything to poor Tom? Whom the foul fiend hath led
through fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, o’er
bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives under his pillow and
halters in his pew, set ratsbane by his porridge; made him proud
of heart, to ride on a bay trotting horse over four-inched
bridges, to course his own shadow for a traitor. Bless thy five
wits! Tom’s a-cold. O, do, de, do, de, do, de. Bless thee from
whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some charity,
whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and
there,—and there again, and there.
Who gives anything to poor Tom? The foul fiend has led me through fire and flame, through fords and whirlpools, over bogs and swamps. He has laid knives under my pillow and halters in my church pew, set rat poison by my food. He has made me proud to ride on a horse over narrow bridges, to chase my own shadow thinking it a traitor. Bless your five senses! Tom is freezing. Bless you from whirlwinds, curses, and plague. Help poor Tom, whom the foul fiend vexes. There could I have him now, and there, and there again, and there.
Who gives anything to poor Tom? The devil has driven me through fire and flames, through rivers and whirlpools, through swamps and mud. He's put knives under my pillow and ropes in my church, poison in my food. He's made me crazy enough to ride horses over dangerous bridges, to chase my own shadow as if it betrayed me. God bless your senses! I'm freezing. God protect you from curses and sickness. Help poor Tom—the devil won't stop tormenting me. I can see him here, there, and everywhere.
who helps poor tom? the devil drove me through fire & floods put knives under my pillow & poison in my food made me chase my own shadow i'm freezing bless you help me the devil torments me
What, have his daughters brought him to this pass?
Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give ’em all?
What, have his daughters brought him to this state? Could you not save anything? Did you give them everything?
What, did his daughters do this to him? You couldn't keep anything? You gave them absolutely everything?
his daughters did this? you gave them everything? you kept nothing?
Nay, he reserv’d a blanket, else we had been all shamed.
No, he kept a blanket, or else we would all have been shamed.
No, he kept one blanket, or we'd all be completely naked and ashamed.
he kept one blanket or we'd all be naked & shamed
Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air
Hang fated o’er men’s faults light on thy daughters!
Now may all the plagues that hang fated in the air over men's sins fall on your daughters!
May all the sickness and curses that float in the air waiting for sinners fall on your daughters!
may all plagues hanging over sinners fall on your daughters!
He hath no daughters, sir.
He has no daughters, sir.
This man has no daughters whatsoever, sir.
he's got no daughters
Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu’d nature
To such a lowness but his unkind daughters.
Is it the fashion that discarded fathers
Should have thus little mercy on their flesh?
Judicious punishment! ’twas this flesh begot
Those pelican daughters.
Death and betrayal! Nothing but unkind daughters could have brought human nature so low. Is it the custom that abandoned fathers should have so little mercy on their own bodies? This is just punishment! This flesh created those cruel daughters.
Death and betrayal! Nothing but his cruel daughters could have reduced him to this state. Is it normal for thrown-out fathers to torture their own bodies like this? This is punishment for creating those cruel children!
nothing but cruel daughters could do this is it normal for thrown-out fathers to torture their own bodies? this flesh created cruel daughters
Pillicock sat on Pillicock hill,
Alow, alow, loo loo!
The small creature sat on the hill, down, down, loo loo.
A creature sitting on the hill, down, down, loo loo.
sitting on the hill down down loo loo
This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
This freezing night will turn all of us into fools and madmen.
This freezing night is going to make us all lose our minds.
this cold night turns us all mad
Take heed o’ th’ foul fiend: obey thy parents; keep thy word
justly; swear not; commit not with man’s sworn spouse; set not
thy sweet-heart on proud array. Tom’s a-cold.
Beware of the foul fiend. Obey your parents. Keep your word honestly. Do not swear oaths. Do not commit adultery. Do not let your beloved care about fancy clothing. Tom is freezing.
Watch out for the devil. Obey your parents. Keep your promises. Don't swear. Don't cheat on someone's spouse. Don't let your love get obsessed with fancy clothes. I'm freezing.
watch out for the devil obey your parents keep your word don't commit adultery don't care about fancy clothes i'm cold
What hast thou been?
What have you been?
What were you before?
what were you?
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair;
wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of my mistress’ heart, and
did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake
words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven. One that
slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it. Wine loved
I deeply, dice dearly; and in woman out-paramour’d the Turk.
False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox
in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray
thy poor heart to woman. Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand
out of plackets, thy pen from lender’s book, and defy the foul
fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: says
suum, mun, nonny. Dolphin my boy, boy, sessa! let him trot by.
A servant, proud in heart and mind. I curled my hair, wore ribbons in my cap, served the lust of my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with her. I swore as many oaths as I spoke words, and broke them all. I slept thinking about lust, and woke to perform it. I loved wine deeply, dice dearly, and outdid even the Turk in taking many lovers. False of heart, quick to listen to lies, bloody of hand. A hog in laziness, a fox in stealth, a wolf in greed, a dog in madness, a lion in preying on others. Do not let the sound of shoes or the rustling of silk betray your poor heart to women. Keep your feet out of brothels, your hand out of women's pockets, your signature off lenders' documents, and defy the foul fiend. Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind. Tom is freezing.
I was a servant who was proud and thought highly of myself. I curled my hair, wore fancy decorations, did whatever my mistress wanted, and slept with her. I swore promises constantly and broke every one. I went to sleep thinking about sex and woke up to do it. I drank wine obsessively, loved gambling, and had more affairs than anyone. I was a liar, easily fooled, violent, lazy as a pig, sneaky as a fox, greedy as a wolf, crazy as a dog, brutal as a lion. Don't let the sound of fancy clothes distract you from women—they'll trap you. Stay away from brothels, keep your money, don't sign contracts, and resist the devil. The cold wind still blows. I'm freezing.
i was a proud servant curled my hair wore fancy stuff slept with my mistress swore promises & broke them all loved wine & gambling & affairs was a liar, violent, greedy, sneaky don't let women trap you stay away from brothels & money lenders the cold wind still blows
Edgar as Poor Tom is performing madness — he chose the role deliberately, having heard 'the basest and most poorest shape that ever penury in contempt of man brought near to beast.' But as the scene progresses, the performance and the reality begin to bleed into each other. He sees his father. He watches Lear approach genuine madness. His own lines become harder to parse as fiction or truth — the fiends he names, the suffering he describes, the cold he claims. What does it cost Edgar to watch this scene from inside the fiction? The play gives him almost no private asides here; we watch him from the outside, unable to tell where Edgar ends and Tom begins. This ambiguity is deliberate. In a play about the inadequacy of seeming, Edgar's disguise is the most extreme version of the problem.
Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer with thy uncovered
body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than this? Consider
him well. Thou owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no
wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here’s three on’s are
sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself: unaccommodated man is no more
but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you
lendings! Come, unbutton here.
You would be better off dead than facing this extreme weather with your naked body. Is this all humans are? Look at him carefully. You owe nothing to worms—no silk. You owe nothing to beasts—no hide. To sheep—no wool. To cats—no perfume. Look, three of us here are dressed and civilized! But you are the thing itself—unaccommodated man is nothing but a poor, bare, two-legged animal like you. Off, off with your borrowed clothes! Come, let me unbutton them.
You'd be better off dead than standing out here in your underwear in this terrible weather. Is this all humans are? Look at him. You don't owe worms silk coverings, beasts don't have hides, sheep don't have wool, cats don't have perfume. We three are all pretending to be civilized, but you're the real thing—just a naked, bare animal. That's all humans are without our costumes. Off with these clothes! Let me take them off.
you'd be better off dead than naked in this weather is this all we are? we owe worms nothing you're just a bare naked animal that's what humans really are off with my clothes
Prithee, nuncle, be contented; ’tis a naughty night to swim
in. Now a little fire in a wild field were like an old lecher’s
heart, a small spark, all the rest on’s body cold. Look, here
comes a walking fire.
Please, uncle, be satisfied. This is a terrible night for swimming. A little fire in an open field would be like an old lecherous man's heart—a small spark while all the rest of his body is cold. Look, here comes a walking fire.
Uncle, please calm down. This is not a good night to go swimming. A small fire in the middle of a field would be like an old man chasing women—just a tiny hot spot while everything else is cold. Look, there's some light coming.
uncle please calm down this is a terrible night a fire in a field is like an old lecher's heart small spark rest cold look there's light coming
This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins at curfew, and walks
till the first cock; he gives the web and the pin, squints the eye, and
makes the harelip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the poor creature
of earth.
Swithold footed thrice the old;
He met the nightmare, and her nine-fold;
Bid her alight and her troth plight,
And aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!
This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet. He begins at curfew and walks until dawn. He causes webs in the eye and pins, squints the eyes, and creates harelips. He mildews the white wheat and hurts poor earthly creatures. Swithold went three times around him. He met the nightmare demon and her nine companions. He told her to go away and pledge her word, and he cried 'Begone, witch, begone!'
This is the evil demon Flibbertigibbet. He starts working at curfew and walks until the sun comes up. He causes eye diseases, makes people cross-eyed, gives them harelips, mildews crops, and hurts animals. Swithold went three times around him. He met the nightmare demon and her nine companions. He told her to get away and made her swear an oath, and he yelled 'Get away, witch!'
this is flibbertigibbet the demon works from curfew to dawn causes eye diseases & harelips mildews crops & hurts animals swithold sent the nightmare demon away
How fares your grace?
How are you, your majesty?
How are you doing, my lord?
how are you?
torch.
A torch.
A torch approaches.
torch coming
What’s he?
What’s he?
What’s he?
What’s he?
Who’s there? What is’t you seek?
Who is there? What do you seek?
Identify yourself. What brings you here?
who's that? what do you need?
What are you there? Your names?
Who are you? What are your names?
Tell me who you are and what you're called.
state your names & identities
Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the
wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the
foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat
and the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the standing pool;
who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stocked, punished,
and imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts
to his body,
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear.
But mice and rats and such small deer,
Have been Tom’s food for seven long year.
Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend!
Poor Tom, who eats swimming frogs, toads, tadpoles, newts, and water plants. In his madness, when the foul fiend rages, he eats cow dung for vegetables. He swallows old rats and dead dogs, drinks the green scum of standing pools. He has been whipped from parish to parish, put in stocks, punished, and imprisoned. He has had three suits to his back, six shirts to his body, a horse to ride, and a weapon to wear. But for seven years, mice and rats and small animals have been Tom's only food. Beware my followers. Peace, Smulkin. Peace, fiend!
Poor Tom eats swimming frogs, toads, tadpoles, newts. When the devil gets to him, he even eats cow dung. He swallows dead rats and dead dogs, drinks the slime from ponds. He's been beaten and imprisoned in every parish. He used to have three suits, six shirts, a horse, and weapons. But for seven years all he's had to eat are mice, rats, and tiny animals. Watch out for my devil. Quiet, devil. Quiet!
poor tom eats frogs & toads when the devil gets him he eats cow dung swallows dead rats & dogs drinks pond scum beaten in every parish used to have suits & a horse now just eats rats for 7 years
What, hath your grace no better company?
What, does your majesty have no better company?
What, surely you can find better company than this, my lord?
surely you have better company?
The prince of darkness is a gentleman:
Modo he’s call’d, and Mahu.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman. He is called Modo and Mahu.
The devil is actually a gentleman. He goes by Modo and Mahu.
the devil is a gentleman called modo & mahu
Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vile
That it doth hate what gets it.
Our human flesh and blood has become so wretched that it hates what creates it—our parents.
Our human nature has become so twisted that children hate the parents who gave them life.
humans are so wicked children hate what created them
Poor Tom’s a-cold.
Poor Tom is freezing.
I'm freezing cold.
i'm freezing
Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer
T’obey in all your daughters’ hard commands;
Though their injunction be to bar my doors,
And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you,
Yet have I ventur’d to come seek you out,
And bring you where both fire and food is ready.
Come inside with me. My duty will not allow me to obey all your daughters' harsh commands. Though they have ordered me to bar my doors and let this tyrannical night destroy you, I have risked coming to seek you out and bring you where there is both fire and food ready.
Come inside with me. I can't follow all the cruel orders your daughters gave me. They told me to lock my doors and let the storm destroy you, but I've risked everything to come find you and bring you where there's warmth and food.
come with me i can't obey your daughters' orders they told me to lock you out but i risked everything to find you there's fire and food inside
First let me talk with this philosopher.
What is the cause of thunder?
First let me talk with this philosopher. What causes thunder?
I must speak with this wise man before we go. Tell me, what creates thunder?
gotta talk to this scholar what makes thunder?
Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house.
Please, my lord, accept his offer and go into the house.
My lord, please take his offer and go inside.
please accept his offer & go inside
The Fool has fewer and fewer lines as Act 3 progresses, and in 3-4 he is almost entirely silent after Edgar appears. Something about the genuine madness he witnesses defeats the comic function entirely. He cannot out-joke this; he cannot make Lear laugh at Poor Tom. His last line in the scene is a practical warning: 'this is a naughty night to take off's clothes.' After this, he will have one more significant exchange in 3-6, and then he simply vanishes from the play with no farewell, no exit, no acknowledgment. The Fool's disappearance — unmarked, unexplained — is one of Shakespeare's most haunting structural choices. His function (making truth bearable through comedy) has become impossible. He is not killed; he just ceases to be present. The play moves on without him.
I’ll talk a word with this same learned Theban.
What is your study?
I'll speak a word with this learned Greek. What is your area of study?
Let me talk to this learned scholar for a moment. What do you study?
let me talk to this learned scholar what do you study?
How to prevent the fiend and to kill vermin.
How to prevent the fiend and how to kill parasites.
How to stop the devil and how to kill pests.
how to stop the devil how to kill vermin
Let me ask you one word in private.
Let me speak with you quietly, just between us.
I need to have a private word with you.
private conversation needed
Importune him once more to go, my lord;
His wits begin t’unsettle.
Urge him once more to go inside, my lord. His mind is beginning to break.
Please try one more time to get him to go inside, my lord. He's starting to lose his mind.
try to get him inside his mind is breaking
Canst thou blame him?
His daughters seek his death. Ah, that good Kent!
He said it would be thus, poor banish’d man!
Thou sayest the King grows mad; I’ll tell thee, friend,
I am almost mad myself. I had a son,
Now outlaw’d from my blood; he sought my life
But lately, very late: I lov’d him, friend,
No father his son dearer: true to tell thee,
Can you blame him? His daughters are trying to kill him. Ah, that good Kent! He said it would come to this, poor banished man. You say the King is growing mad. I'll tell you, friend, I am almost mad myself. I had a son, now cast out and disowned. He sought my life just recently, very recently. I loved him, friend. No father ever loved a son more dearly. And truly,
Can you blame him? His daughters want him dead. That good Kent was right when he said it would come to this, even though they banished him. You say the King is going mad. Well, I'm almost mad myself. I had a son they cast out of the family. He tried to kill me just lately. I loved that boy more than anything. No father ever loved a son more. The truth is,
can you blame him? his daughters want him dead kent was right about all this the king is going mad i'm almost mad too i had a son they cast out he tried to kill me i loved him more than anything
The grief hath craz’d my wits. What a night’s this!
I do beseech your grace.
Grief has driven me mad. What a terrible night this is! I beg your pardon, your grace.
Grief has made me crazy. What a horrible night this is! Your grace, I'm begging you.
grief broke my mind terrible night i beg u sire
O, cry you mercy, sir.
Noble philosopher, your company.
Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. Noble philosopher, please join us.
I apologize, sir. Distinguished scholar, will you accompany us?
sorry sir come with us
Tom’s a-cold.
Tom’s a-cold.
Tom’s a-cold.
Tom’s a-cold.
In, fellow, there, into the hovel; keep thee warm.
Inside, fellow, into the shelter. Keep yourself warm.
Go on inside the shelter and keep warm.
go inside the shelter keep warm
Come, let’s in all.
Come, let's all go inside.
Everyone, let's get into the shelter now.
everyone go inside now
This way, my lord.
Come in this direction, your majesty.
Follow me, sire. Come this direction.
follow me
With him;
I will keep still with my philosopher.
With him. I will stay with my philosopher.
I'll go with him. I want to stay with my philosopher.
i'll stay with my philosopher
Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow.
Good my lord, calm him. Let him stay with the fellow.
My lord, please calm him. Let him keep the philosopher with him.
calm him let him keep the philosopher
Take him you on.
You take him with you then.
Why don't you take him along with you.
take him w you
Sirrah, come on; go along with us.
Sir, come on. Go along with us.
Come along now. Travel with us to shelter.
move it come with us
Come, good Athenian.
Come, good Athenian.
Come, good Athenian.
Come, good Athenian.
No words, no words, hush.
No more words, no more words. Be quiet.
Don't talk, just be quiet.
be quiet
Child Rowland to the dark tower came,
His word was still—Fie, foh, and fum,
I smell the blood of a British man.
Young Rowland came to the dark tower. His word was still: Shame, foul, and I smell the blood of a British man.
Young Rowland came to the dark tower. And his word was: Ugh, yuck, I smell blood of a Brit.
rowland came to the dark tower his word: i smell the blood of a british man
The Reckoning
This is the scene where the play reaches its human bedrock. The hovel on the heath contains four kinds of suffering: Lear's rage and grief, the Fool's exhausted loyalty, Kent's helpless watch, and Edgar's performed madness alongside real fear. When Lear sees Poor Tom — naked, starving, apparently mad — he asks the question the play has been building toward: 'Is man no more than this?' The encounter with 'unaccommodated man' — the human being stripped of all civilized addition, all rank, all clothing — is Lear's shattering recognition. He tries to remove his own clothes: he wants to reduce himself to the same bare state, to meet Edgar at the point of pure humanity. This is simultaneously madness and a form of sanity. The Fool is almost silent in this scene. Gloucester arrives with a torch. The scene's final image — a blind man leading a mad king toward shelter — summarizes the entire play.
If this happened today…
Someone in the worst night of their life refuses to come inside out of the rain. A friend says: there's shelter — come in. The person says: being wet doesn't hurt as much as thinking. They go in anyway, and inside they find a homeless person in the worst state imaginable — shivering, barely clothed, apparently lost to everything. And the person in grief looks at the homeless person and says: 'Oh. That's what we are. Under all of it. That's the truth.' And starts trying to take their own coat off.