O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work
To match thy goodness? My life will be too short,
And every measure fail me.
Oh good Kent, how will I ever do enough to match your goodness? My life will be too short, and every effort I make will fall short.
Kent, you're so good—how can I ever do as much as you deserve? I just don't have enough lifetime to repay you.
how am i ever gonna match your goodness i don't have enough life for this
To be acknowledg’d, madam, is o’erpaid.
All my reports go with the modest truth;
Nor more, nor clipp’d, but so.
To be recognized by you, madam, is more than enough reward. I report only what is true and modest; neither embellished nor reduced, just as it is.
That's more than enough, madam—just you knowing what I did is all I need. I only tell the honest truth, nothing added, nothing left out.
acknowledgment is enough for me just the facts, no more no less
Be better suited,
These weeds are memories of those worser hours:
I prithee put them off.
Dress in finer clothes; these ragged clothes are reminders of those worse times. Please take them off.
Put on something nicer—these rags just remind us of all the suffering you went through. Let's get you out of them.
change your clothes these remind us of the bad times
Pardon, dear madam;
Yet to be known shortens my made intent.
My boon I make it that you know me not
Till time and I think meet.
Forgive me, madam, but if I were to be recognized, it would spoil my plan. I ask only that you don't know who I am until the time is right for me.
Sorry, madam, but revealing myself right now would ruin everything I'm trying to do. I need you to not know who I really am yet—not until things work out the way I need them to.
need to stay hidden for now can't let you know who i am yet
Then be’t so, my good lord. [_To the Physician._] How does the King?
Very well then, my good lord. How is the King?
Alright, that's fine. So how's the King doing?
ok then how's the king?
Madam, sleeps still.
He's still sleeping, madam.
He's still asleep, madam.
he's still sleeping
O you kind gods,
Cure this great breach in his abused nature!
The untun’d and jarring senses, O, wind up
Of this child-changed father.
Oh merciful gods, heal this terrible damage to his nature! His senses are out of harmony and discordant—oh, restore them, wind them back up properly, this father whose mind has become as confused as a child's.
Gods, please heal what's been broken in him! His mind is all messed up and disconnected—fix those scattered, jangled thoughts. Make this father, whose mind's been turned into a child's, whole again.
gods please heal him his mind is broken fix this father's scattered thoughts
So please your majesty
That we may wake the King: he hath slept long.
With your permission, majesty, we should wake the King now—he has slept for quite a long time.
If it's okay with you, we should wake the King up now. He's been asleep for ages.
should we wake him? he's been sleeping forever
Cordelia's 'No cause, no cause' is the most analyzed brief phrase in King Lear, and for good reason: it compresses an entire philosophical position about love and debt. The conventional structure of forgiveness involves acknowledgment of wrong, expression of regret, and an act of pardon that releases the debt. Lear offers the first two: he knows what he did ('your sisters have done me wrong: you have some cause'), and he has expressed regret throughout Act 4. Cordelia skips the pardon entirely. She does not say 'I forgive you' — which would confirm the existence of a debt and the significance of the release. She says there is no cause: the framework of debt and credit does not apply to her love. This is either sainthood or a kind of absolute love that has no human equivalent, or both. The scene does not sentimentalize it — the Doctor warns that Lear is still fragile, the war is still coming — but it insists on the reality of the moment.
Be govern’d by your knowledge, and proceed
I’ the sway of your own will. Is he array’d?
Follow the course of action your medical knowledge suggests, and proceed according to your own judgment. Is he clothed in fresh garments?
Use your expertise—whatever you think is best. Is he wearing clean clothes?
do what you think is best is he dressed?
Ay, madam. In the heaviness of sleep
We put fresh garments on him.
Be by, good madam, when we do awake him;
I doubt not of his temperance.
Yes, madam. While he was deeply asleep we dressed him in fresh clothes. Please stand by when we wake him—I'm confident he'll be calm and stable.
Yes, madam. We put fresh clothes on him while he was deep asleep. Stay nearby when we wake him up—I'm sure he'll be calm about it.
yes we dressed him while he slept stay close when we wake him he'll be calm
Very well.
Very well.
Very well.
Very well.
Please you draw near. Louder the music there!
Come closer, please. Play the music louder!
Come on over here. Turn up that music!
come closer music louder
O my dear father! Restoration hang
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss
Repair those violent harms that my two sisters
Have in thy reverence made!
Oh my dear father! Let healing flow from my lips; and let this kiss repair the violent damage that my two sisters have done to your honor and dignity!
Oh Father! May this kiss bring you back to health—let my lips be your medicine. May it undo all the terrible wounds my sisters inflicted on your dignity!
oh father let this kiss heal you fix what my sisters broke
Kind and dear princess!
Noble and beloved princess!
You're so good and kind, your highness!
you're so kind
Had you not been their father, these white flakes
Did challenge pity of them. Was this a face
To be oppos’d against the warring winds?
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder?
In the most terrible and nimble stroke
Of quick cross lightning? to watch, poor perdu!
With this thin helm? Mine enemy’s dog,
Though he had bit me, should have stood that night
Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father,
To hovel thee with swine and rogues forlorn
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack!
’Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once
Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him.
If you weren't their father, these white hairs alone should have moved them to pity. Was this the face meant to endure the warring winds? To withstand the terrible and sudden stroke of lightning? To watch alone, exposed? With this thin protection? Even my enemy's dog would have sheltered that night better than you did—and yet you, poor father, were forced to take shelter in straw with pigs and desperate rogues? It's a miracle your life and sanity didn't end altogether. He's awake now; speak to him.
If you weren't their father, your white hair alone should have made them feel sorry for you. Was your face made to face violent storms and lightning? To stand alone and defenseless? Even a dog that bit me would have gotten better shelter than you did that night. And you, poor father, had to sleep in filthy straw with pigs and criminals? It's amazing you're even alive and sane. He's waking up—talk to him now.
your white hair should have moved them your face wasn't made for storms even a dog got better shelter than you miraculous you're still alive he's waking
Madam, do you; ’tis fittest.
Madam, you do it—that's most appropriate.
You should be the one to talk to him, madam—it's better coming from you.
you talk to him it's better coming from you
How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty?
How are you, my lord? How are you feeling?
How are you, your majesty? How are you doing?
how are you doing?
You do me wrong to take me out o’ the grave.
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears
Do scald like molten lead.
You're wrong to pull me from the grave. You are a blessed soul, but I am trapped on a wheel of fire, where even my own tears burn like molten lead.
Why did you pull me out of the grave? You look like you're in heaven, but I'm trapped in agony—my own tears are burning me like liquid fire.
don't pull me from the grave you're blessed but i'm in hell my tears burn like fire
Sir, do you know me?
Sir, do you recognize me?
Father, do you know who I am?
can you see who this is?
You are a spirit, I know: when did you die?
I know you're a spirit or ghost—when did you die?
You must be a ghost. When did you die?
you're a ghost when did you die?
The Doctor appears briefly but significantly in Acts 4-4 and 4-7. In an era without psychiatry, he is the play's closest approximation of a therapeutic figure: he prescribes sleep, he manages the awakening scene, he warns against overwhelming Lear with the full truth of what happened. His advice — 'trouble him no more till further settling' — acknowledges that recovery is fragile, that the reunion cannot simply repair everything. Shakespeare's handling of Lear's madness is unusually precise: it has a cause (grief, exposure, despair), a treatment (sleep, gentle music, familiar faces), and a trajectory (improvement with risk of relapse). The Doctor's caution keeps the scene from being the simple resolution it might otherwise appear to be. Lear is better, not healed. The battle is still to come.
Still, still, far wide!
Still completely wrong, completely confused!
You're still so confused! Way off!
you're still so confused
He’s scarce awake: let him alone awhile.
He's barely awake yet—let him rest for a moment.
He's only just waking up—let him be for a bit.
let him wake up give him time
Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight?
I am mightily abus’d. I should e’en die with pity,
To see another thus. I know not what to say.
I will not swear these are my hands: let’s see;
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assur’d
Of my condition!
Where have I been? Where am I? Is this daylight? I've been terribly mistreated. I would almost die of pity seeing another person in this state. I don't know what to say. I won't even swear these are really my hands—let me check. I can feel the prick of a pin. I wish I could be certain of what's happening to me!
Where was I? Where am I now? Is this really daylight? I've been treated so badly. I feel sorry for whoever else went through what I've been through. I'm confused about everything. I'm not even sure these are my own hands—let me test that. I can feel this pin. I need to know what's really going on.
where was i? where am i now? i've been tortured so confused are these even my hands?
O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o’er me.
No, sir, you must not kneel.
Look at me, sir, and hold your hands in blessing over me. No, you must not kneel.
Look at me and bless me. Don't kneel—you can't kneel to me.
look at me don't kneel you're the king
Pray, do not mock me:
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful: for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For, as I am a man, I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.
Please don't mock me. I'm a foolish, affectionate old man, eighty years old and beyond, not an hour younger. And to be honest, I fear my mind isn't what it used to be. I feel like I should recognize you and this other man, yet I have doubts. I'm mostly ignorant—I don't know where I am, I can't remember these clothes, and I don't recall where I slept last night. Don't laugh at me. Because I'm telling you plainly, I think this woman must be my daughter Cordelia.
Don't make fun of me. I'm just a silly old man of eighty, and I'm not thinking clearly. I feel like I should know you both, but I'm not sure. I'm confused about where I am, these clothes feel wrong, and I don't remember anything from last night. Please don't laugh at me. But I'm pretty sure this is my daughter Cordelia.
don't mock me i'm a confused old man of 80 i should know you both but i don't this must be cordelia
And so I am. I am.
And yes, I am. I am your Cordelia.
Yes, I am. I'm Cordelia.
it's me your daughter is here
Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray weep not:
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have some cause, they have not.
Are your tears real? Yes, they are. Please don't cry. If you had poison for me, I would drink it. I know you don't love me, because your sisters have, as I remember, wronged me. You have some reason to hate me—they don't.
Your tears are real, aren't they? Please don't cry. If you wanted to poison me, I'd let you drink it myself. I know you don't love me—your sisters have done me wrong, and they had no reason. But you do.
your tears are real please don't cry i know you hate me your sisters hurt me worse than you did
No cause, no cause.
No reason at all, no reason.
I have no reason to resent you—none.
no reason i don't hate you
Am I in France?
Have I been taken to France?
Is this France?
france?
In your own kingdom, sir.
You're in the lands you once ruled, your majesty.
You're safely in your own realm now.
you're in your kingdom
Do not abuse me.
Don't trick me.
Don't lie to me.
don't fool me im losing it already
Be comforted, good madam, the great rage,
You see, is kill’d in him: and yet it is danger
To make him even o’er the time he has lost.
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more
Till further settling.
Be comforted, madam, the great rage you see has died in him. But it would be dangerous to expect him to catch up on all the time he's lost. Ask him to go rest; don't trouble him anymore until his mind settles further.
Don't worry, madam. The anger is gone from him. But pushing him to remember everything he's lost could be harmful. Let him go rest now—don't stress him anymore until his mind gets steadier.
don't worry the anger's gone let him rest don't push him
After the visual and verbal extravagance of the storm scenes, the mad trial, the blinding, the cliff scene, and the mad speeches of 4-6, scene 4-7 is almost entirely bare. Two people, a tent, music. The language is stripped: 'And so I am, I am.' 'No cause, no cause.' 'I am old and foolish.' The simplicity is the point. The play has used enormously elaborate theatrical and poetic means to strip everything away, and what is left at the bottom is this: a father, a daughter, short sentences, real tears. The structural contrast is as deliberate as anything in the play. Shakespeare has earned the plainness.
Will’t please your highness walk?
Will you walk with me, your majesty?
Shall we take a walk, your majesty?
wanna walk?
You must bear with me:
Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish.
You'll have to put up with me. I'm asking you now to forget and forgive what I've done. I'm old and foolish.
I need you to be patient with me. Please forget and forgive me—I'm just an old fool.
be patient with me please forgive me i'm just an old fool
Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain?
Is it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was killed?
Is it really true the Duke of Cornwall was killed?
is cornwall really dead?
Most certain, sir.
Most certain, sir.
Most certain, sir.
Most certain, sir.
Who is conductor of his people?
Who now commands his people?
Who's leading his forces now?
who's in charge now?
As ’tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester.
As people say, the bastard son of Gloucester.
From what I hear, it's Gloucester's bastard son.
gloucester's bastard son
They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl of Kent
in Germany.
Reports say that Edgar, the son whom Gloucester had banished, has taken refuge with the Earl of Kent in Germany.
I hear Edgar—Gloucester's outcast son—is living in Germany under the Earl of Kent's protection.
edgar's in germany with kent
Report is changeable. ’Tis time to look about; the powers of
the kingdom approach apace.
Reports can change. It's time to pay attention; the forces of the kingdom are approaching quickly.
News keeps changing. We need to stay alert—the kingdom's armies are moving fast.
news keeps changing army's approaching fast
The arbitrement is like to be bloody.
Fare you well, sir.
The battle is likely to be bloody. Goodbye, sir.
This is going to be a bloody fight. Take care.
gonna be bloody goodbye
My point and period will be throughly wrought,
Or well or ill, as this day’s battle’s fought.
My ending and my purpose will be completely fulfilled, one way or another, depending on how today's battle goes.
How this battle ends today will be the end of me—for better or worse, that's my fate.
this battle decides everything for better or worse today's the end
The Reckoning
One of the most devastating scenes of forgiveness in all of literature. Lear has been cleaned, clothed, sedated, and brought to himself. He wakes into music, into a face he cannot quite believe is real. His first instinct is that he must have died: 'You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave.' Then the gradual recognition — 'Do not laugh at me; / For, as I am a man, I think this lady / To be my child Cordelia.' And she confirms it: 'And so I am, I am.' Then his acknowledgment: 'I know you do not love me; for your sisters have, as I do remember, done me wrong: you have some cause, they have not.' And her response — the most devastating three words in the play: 'No cause, no cause.' She does not assign cause. She does not account for or excuse or forgive. She simply removes cause from the ledger entirely. The scene is the play's counter-argument to everything that has happened. Against the cosmic indifference of 'flies to wanton boys,' against the blinding, against the storm — this: a father and a daughter, awake together in a tent, the words as simple as anything in English.
If this happened today…
Someone wakes up in a hospital room after being found in terrible condition. They don't know where they are. They see a face they thought they'd never see again — a child they treated badly, who they assumed would never come. They say: 'I know you have every reason to hate me.' And the person says, simply: 'No.' Not 'I forgive you.' Not 'it's fine.' Just: no. No cause. The ledger isn't the right instrument.