Welcome, my lord. I marvel our mild husband
Not met us on the way. Now, where’s your master?
Welcome, my lord. I'm surprised our gentle husband did not meet us on the road. Now, where is your master?
Welcome. I'm surprised our sweet-tempered husband didn't come to greet us. Where's your lord?
welcome surprised he wasnt here where's your master
Madam, within; but never man so chang’d.
I told him of the army that was landed;
He smil’d at it: I told him you were coming;
His answer was, ‘The worse.’ Of Gloucester’s treachery
And of the loyal service of his son
When I inform’d him, then he call’d me sot,
And told me I had turn’d the wrong side out.
What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;
What like, offensive.
He's inside, madam, but I've never seen a man so changed. I told him about the army that had landed; he smiled at it. I told him you were coming; his answer was, 'That's even worse.' When I told him about Gloucester's betrayal and about the loyalty his son showed, then he called me a fool and said I had gotten everything backwards. Things he should hate seem to make him happy; things he should enjoy offend him.
He's inside, but he's completely different. I told him an army had landed—he just smiled. I told him you were coming—he said 'Even worse.' When I explained about Gloucester's betrayal and his son's loyalty, he called me an idiot and said I had it backwards. He likes things he should hate and hates things he should like.
hes inside but totally changed army landed he smiled you coming 'worse' told him about gloucester he called me a fool gets it all backwards likes what he should hate
[_To Edmund._] Then shall you go no further.
It is the cowish terror of his spirit,
That dares not undertake. He’ll not feel wrongs
Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way
May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother;
Hasten his musters and conduct his powers.
I must change names at home, and give the distaff
Into my husband’s hands. This trusty servant
Shall pass between us. Ere long you are like to hear,
If you dare venture in your own behalf,
A mistress’s command. [_Giving a favour._]
Wear this; spare speech;
Decline your head. This kiss, if it durst speak,
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air.
Conceive, and fare thee well.
You're not going any further. His problem is cowardly fear—he won't act. He'll ignore insults because he won't fight back. Our plans from the road could become real. Go back, Edmund, to my brother; speed up his recruiting and command his troops. I'll take control at home and put myself in charge—let him think he's leading. This trusted servant will carry messages between us. Soon, if you're willing to act for yourself, you'll hear a command from your mistress. [Giving a favor.] Wear this; don't speak; bow your head. If this kiss could talk, it would send your spirit soaring to the heavens. Understand, and farewell.
You're not going any further. He's just too scared to actually do anything. He won't respond to insults or defend himself. What we planned could really happen. Go back to my brother, Edmund, and get his army moving. I'm taking control at home and putting my husband under my thumb. This servant will carry messages between us. Soon, if you're willing to act on your own, you might get an order from me. [Handing him a token.] Keep this, say nothing, bow your head. This kiss, if it could speak, would lift your spirit to heaven. Get what I mean? Goodbye.
don't go further he's just scared go help my brother speed up his army i'm taking charge this guy carries messages if u go for it u might hear from me wear this, shut up this kiss is everything
Yours in the ranks of death.
I'm devoted to you, even unto death.
I'm yours—I'd die for this.
yours till death
My most dear Gloucester.
O, the difference of man and man!
To thee a woman’s services are due;
My fool usurps my body.
My most beloved Gloucester. Oh, what a difference there is between one man and another! To you a woman's attention should be given; my idiot of a husband has taken my body.
My darling Gloucester. How different you are from other men! I should be with someone like you, but instead my stupid husband has claimed me.
my dear gloucester you're so different i should be with you not this fool who owns me
Madam, here comes my lord.
Madam, your master approaches.
Your husband's coming, madam.
lords coming
I have been worth the whistle.
I was once valued and called for.
There was a time when I mattered.
i used to be worth something
Albany has been largely passive in the first half of the play — Goneril's husband, present but not acting. In 4-2 he becomes the most clear-eyed moral voice among the play's major characters. His speech to Goneril — 'Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile' — has the quality of a man who has been seeing clearly but not speaking, now choosing to speak. His image of 'monsters of the deep' preying on each other is not rhetorical: he understands that what Goneril and Regan have done is not just cruel but socially destructive, that it dissolves the bonds that hold civilization together. Albany's moral clarity is, however, complicated: he was married to Goneril while all this was happening, and his failure to act earlier is part of what allowed the catastrophe to develop. The play treats him with a kind of measured respect — he is not a hero, but he sees truly.
O Goneril!
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind
Blows in your face! I fear your disposition;
That nature which contemns its origin
Cannot be bordered certain in itself.
She that herself will sliver and disbranch
From her material sap, perforce must wither
And come to deadly use.
Goneril! You're not worth the dust that the harsh wind blows in your face! I'm afraid of what you are; when nature despises its own source it cannot maintain any limits. She who cuts herself off and breaks away from her source must wither and end up bringing death.
You're worthless—less valuable than dirt! What terrifies me is what you've become. When someone turns against their own roots, there's no keeping them in bounds. A branch that cuts itself off from the tree will wither and rot.
youre worthless less than dust im afraid of what you are you turned on your roots now youll just wither
No more; the text is foolish.
Stop it; your preaching is ridiculous.
Spare me this nonsense.
stop preaching
Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile;
Filths savour but themselves. What have you done?
Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform’d?
A father, and a gracious aged man,
Whose reverence even the head-lugg’d bear would lick,
Most barbarous, most degenerate, have you madded.
Could my good brother suffer you to do it?
A man, a prince, by him so benefitted!
If that the heavens do not their visible spirits
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences,
It will come,
Humanity must perforce prey on itself,
Like monsters of the deep.
To the wicked, wisdom and goodness look wicked; only filth recognizes itself. What have you done? Tigers, not daughters, what horrors have you created? You have driven mad a father, a gracious old man whose authority even a fierce bear would respect. Most savage, most inhuman, you've destroyed him. How could even my good brother allow this? A man, a prince, who gave you everything! If heaven doesn't send down its armies to quickly punish these horrible crimes, then it will happen anyway— humanity will devour itself, like creatures from the deep.
Evil people can't recognize goodness—they only understand depravity. What did you do? You're animals, not daughters. You destroyed a kind old man whose dignity even a wild bear would respect. You're savages. How could anyone let you do this—a man who gave you everything? If heaven doesn't come down and stop you, then humanity will destroy itself like sea monsters.
evil people cant see goodness what did you do youre animals not daughters you destroyed a good old man how could he allow this heaven wont come humanity will eat itself
Milk-liver’d man!
That bear’st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs;
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning
Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know’st
Fools do those villains pity who are punish’d
Ere they have done their mischief. Where’s thy drum?
France spreads his banners in our noiseless land;
With plumed helm thy state begins to threat,
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sitt’st still, and criest
‘Alack, why does he so?’
Cowardly man! You have a face prepared to be struck, a head ready for insults; you have no wisdom in your eyes to distinguish your honor from your shame; you don't understand that fools pity villains before they're punished for their crimes. Where's your military drive? France is spreading its flags in our defenseless land; while armed troops threaten your kingdom, you, a philosophical fool, sit still and ask 'Why does he do that?'
Spineless man! You're ready to be hit and insulted. You can't tell the difference between your pride and your shame. You'd pity a criminal before they finish stealing. Where's your will to fight? France is invading, troops are threatening your kingdom, and you just sit philosophizing and asking 'Why is he doing this?'
spineless ready to be hit cant tell pride from shame you pity criminals before they finish where's your will to fight france invades and you ask why
See thyself, devil!
Proper deformity seems not in the fiend
So horrid as in woman.
Look at yourself, demon! Evil's true form doesn't look so horrible in a devil as it does in a woman.
Look at what you've become! Evil looks bad in demons, but worse in you.
look at yourself devil evil in a woman is worse
O vain fool!
O vain fool!
O vain fool!
O vain fool!
Thou changed and self-cover’d thing, for shame!
Be-monster not thy feature! Were’t my fitness
To let these hands obey my blood,
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones. Howe’er thou art a fiend,
A woman’s shape doth shield thee.
You transformed, hidden thing—how shameful! Don't make your appearance into a monster! If it were right for me to let my hands obey my rage, they'd be quick enough to break and tear your flesh and bones. However much you're a demon, a woman's body protects you from me.
You alien creature, how shameful! If I could let my anger out, I'd rip you apart. But your female body shields you from me.
you monster if i could id tear you apart but youre protected by being a woman
Marry, your manhood, mew!
Indeed, your manhood—shut it away!
Your manhood? Keep it locked up!
your manhood cage it
What news?
What news?
What news?
What news?
O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall’s dead;
Slain by his servant, going to put out
The other eye of Gloucester.
My lord, the Duke of Cornwall is dead; killed by his own servant while he was trying to blind Gloucester's other eye.
My lord, the Duke of Cornwall is dead—his own servant killed him while he was blinding Gloucester.
the dukes dead his servant killed him while blinding gloucester
Gloucester’s eyes!
Gloucester’s eyes!
Gloucester’s eyes!
Gloucester’s eyes!
The romantic/political triangle between Goneril, Edmund, and Regan is the play's most cynically presented relationship. Both sisters want Edmund; Edmund calculates between them. Goneril's aside in this scene — realizing that Regan, now widowed, is free to pursue Edmund — is startling because it reveals how deeply Goneril is compromised by desire. She is willing to lose a battle (perhaps everything) if Edmund goes to Regan. This is not passion in any ennobling sense; it is a version of the same acquisitiveness that drove her treatment of Lear. She wants Edmund as she wanted the kingdom: as something to possess. The triangle will resolve in Act 5 with extraordinary violence, but its seeds are fully visible here.
A servant that he bred, thrill’d with remorse,
Oppos’d against the act, bending his sword
To his great master; who, thereat enrag’d,
Flew on him, and amongst them fell’d him dead;
But not without that harmful stroke which since
Hath pluck’d him after.
A servant he had raised, filled with guilt, opposed what was happening and turned his sword against his master; the master, enraged, attacked him and they fought until the servant was dead; but not before dealing him a wound that has now dragged the master into death after him.
A servant this duke had raised, overcome with horror, turned his sword against his master. The master got furious and they fought. The servant died—but not before wounding the duke so badly he followed him.
a servant he raised turned his sword on him in horror they fought the servant died but wounded the duke the duke followed into death
This shows you are above,
You justicers, that these our nether crimes
So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester!
Lost he his other eye?
This shows there's justice above, you judges, that such earthly crimes can be punished so quickly! But, poor Gloucester! Did he lose his other eye?
This proves heaven's watching and punishes these crimes so fast! But what about poor Gloucester? Did they take his other eye too?
theres justice crimes punished fast but poor gloucester both his eyes
Both, both, my lord.
This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer;
’Tis from your sister.
Both, my lord. This letter, madam, urgently needs a reply; it's from your sister.
Both eyes. And this letter from your sister needs a quick answer.
both eyes letter from your sister needs fast answer
[_Aside._] One way I like this well;
But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,
May all the building in my fancy pluck
Upon my hateful life. Another way
The news is not so tart. I’ll read, and answer.
In one way I'm happy about this; but if I become a widow and Regan gets Edmund, all my plans might collapse and destroy my life. Another way to look at it: the news isn't entirely bad. I'll read it and respond.
I kind of like this news one way, but if I'm left a widow and Regan ends up with Edmund, all my schemes fall apart and wreck everything. But looking at it another way, it's not completely bad. I'll read this and write back.
ok i like this but if i'm alone and regan gets him everything falls apart other way tho not so bad i'll read and reply
Where was his son when they did take his eyes?
Where was his son when they took his eyes?
Where was his son at the time they blinded him?
where was his son when they did that
Come with my lady hither.
He came here with my lady.
He came along here with my lady, actually.
he came here w her
He is not here.
He is not present.
He's gone.
hes not here
No, my good lord; I met him back again.
No, my good lord; I met him on the way back.
No, I ran into him coming back.
no i met him on the way back
Knows he the wickedness?
Does he know what evil was done?
Does he know about the crimes?
does he know what happened
Ay, my good lord. ’Twas he inform’d against him;
And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment
Might have the freer course.
Yes, my lord. He is the one who reported his father; and he left the house on purpose so their punishment could proceed without interference.
Yes, he's the one who turned his father in. He left deliberately to let them punish him freely.
yeah he turned his dad in left the house so they could punish him
Gloucester, I live
To thank thee for the love thou show’dst the King,
And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend,
Tell me what more thou know’st.
Gloucester, I live to thank you for the love you showed the King and to avenge what was done to your eyes. Come here, friend, tell me what else you know.
I'm still alive to thank you for your loyalty to the King and to get revenge for your eyes. Come here and tell me everything you know.
im here to thank you and avenge your eyes tell me what else you know
The Reckoning
The Goneril/Edmund plot accelerates here, and Albany reveals himself as the play's clearest moral voice among the powerful characters. Goneril has contempt for her husband: he is 'milk-livered,' insufficiently ruthless, a 'moral fool' who passes judgment instead of acting. Albany's speech in response — building to his denunciation of Goneril — is controlled rage, and his image of what happens when humanity abandons its bond ('Humanity must perforce prey on itself, / Like monsters of the deep') is one of the play's central structural metaphors. The news that Cornwall is dead introduces two new complications: the power balance between the sisters shifts, and Regan is now available to pursue Edmund. Goneril's private aside at the end — she would rather lose the battle than lose Edmund to Regan — is the most direct statement of her vulnerability in the play.
If this happened today…
A powerful couple returns home after a trip. She's been running an operation against a former superior with a man she's attracted to. She sends the man back before her husband can see them together. Her husband confronts her: 'You know what you've done? You know what's been done?' He reads her the account of a brutal act they were party to. She looks at him with contempt and walks past. Then news arrives: the man on the other side died. And she thinks: his widow might go after the man I want.