| Gentleman: Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea… | Or swell the curled waters ‘bove the main, /That things might change or cease. |
| Lear: Blow winds and crack your cheeks!…And thou, all-shaking thunder | Strike flat the thick rotundity o’the world |
| Lear: Crack nature’s moulds, | all germens spill at once |
| Lear: A poor, infirm, | weak and despised old man. |
| Lear: I am a man | More sinned against than sinning. |
| Fool: Then shall the realm of Albion | Come to great confusion. |
| Edmond: The younger rises | when the old doth fall. |
| Lear: Wilt break my heart? Kent: | I had rather break mine own. |
| Lear: this tempest will not… | give me leave to ponder |
| Lear: Poor naked wretches…O, I have ta’en/ Too little care of this… | Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel |
| Lear: pelican | daughters. |
| Fool: This cold night | will turn us all to fools and madmen. |
| Edgar: One that slept in the | contriving of lust and waked to do it. |
| Lear: Off, off, you lendings, | come, unbutton here. |
| Kent: How fares your grace? Lear: | What’s he? |
| Gloucester: Our flesh and blood, | my lord, is grown so vile |
| Gloucester: The grief hath | crazed my wits. |
| Lear: Is there any cause in nature | that makes these hard hearts? |
| Fool: And I’ll go | to bed at noon |
| King Lear: I will arraign | them straight |
| Lear: And here’s another whose warped looks proclaim | What store her heart is made on. |
| Edgar: Bless thy | five wits. |
| Kent: trouble him not; | his wits are gone. |
| Cornwall: Seek out the | traitor Gloucester |
| Regan: Hang | him instantly. |
| Gonerill: Pluck out | his eyes! |
| Regan: (Regan plucks | Gloucester’s beard) |
| Regan: the lunatic | King |
| Gloucester: I would not see thy cruel nails | Pluck out his poor old eyes |
| Gloucester: The winged | vengeance overtake such children |
| Gloucester: Where’s my son Edmond?… Regan: | Thou call’st on him that hates thee. |
| Regan: Go, thrust him out at gates | and let him smell/ His way to Dover. |
| Third servant: Women will all | turn monsters. |
| Lear: My wits | begin to turn. |
King Lear Act 3 quotes
July 11, 2019