I thought the king had | more affected the Duke of Albany than Cornwall |
Conferring | them on younger strengths |
Our | daughters’ several dowers |
Which of | you shall we say doth love us most? |
Dearer | than eyesight, space, liberty |
Here I | disclaim all my paternal care |
Come not | between the dragon and his wrath |
When majesty | falls to folly – Kent |
Her price | is fallen |
You have so | lost a father that you must lose a husband |
For we have no | such daughter, nor shall we ever see that face of hers again |
Time shall | unfold what plighted cunning hides |
Why brand | they us with base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? |
Our father’s love is | to the bastard Edmund as to th’ legitimate. Fine word, ‘legitimate’! |
I grow, | I prosper |
O, villain | villain! … Unnatural, detested, brutish |
I am better than | thou art now, I am a fool, thou art nothing |
The hedge | sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, that it’s had it head bit off by it young |
“asham’d” | “shake my manhood” |
these | hot tears |
Thou should’st | not have been old till thou had’st been wise |
your purpos’d low | low correction is such as basest and contemned’st wretches |
O how | this mother swells up toward my heart |
Cry to it | nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put ’em i’th’ paste alive |
You should | be rul’d and led |
I will preserve | myself… to take the basest and most poorest shape |
Poor Tom! | That’s something yet: Edgar I nothing am |
If you do | love old men… send down and take my part |
thou art a | boil, a plague-sore, or embossed carbuncle |
What should | you need of more? – Regan |
O reason | not the need! |
Allow not | nature more than nature needs, man’s life is as cheap as beast’s |
Stirs these | daughters’ hearts against their father |
let not | women’s weapons, water-drops, stain my man’s cheeks! |
I will do | such things… they shall be the terrors of the earth |
the heart shall | break into a hundred thousand flaws |
Tis’ his own | blame… and must needs taste his folly – Goneril |
A heath | A storm, with thunder and lightning |
This scatter’d | kingdom – Kent |
Blow, winds, | And crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! |
you elements, | with unkindness… I never gave you kingdom, call’d you children |
servile | ministers |
I am a | man more sinn’d against than sinning |
The younger | rises when the old doth fall – Edmund |
Most savage | and unnatural – Edmund |
the tempest in | my mind doth from my senses take all feeling else |
O, I have | ta’en too little care of this |
Expose | thyself to feel what wretches feel |
Man is | no more but such a poor, bare forked animal |
I’ll go to | bed at noon |
He childed | as I father’d |
Pluck | out his eyes |
I’ll fetch some | flax and whites of eggs to apply to his bleeding face |
As flies | to wanton boys, are we to th’ gods, they kill us for their sport |
Bless thy | sweet eyes, they bleed – Edgar |
Tigers, | not daughters – Albany |
Thou art a fiend, | a woman’s shape doth shield thee – Albany |
Holy water | from heavenly eyes |
Sunshine | and rain |
Smiles | and tears |
Dog | hearted daughters |
Burning | shame detains him from Cordelia |
Crown’d with | rank fumier and furrow-weeds |
O dear father! | It is thy business that I go about |
No blown ambition doth | our arms incite, but love |
Enter Gloucester | and Edgar dressed like a peasant |
Fie, fie | fie! pah, pah! |
I am a king, | masters, know you that? |
Come not near | th’old man: keep out – Edgar |
Restoration | hang thy medicine on my lips |
Thou art | a soul in bliss |
We two | alone will sing like birds i’th’ cage |
A brand | from heaven |
Let’s | exchange charity |
I am no | less in blood than thou art, Edmund |
The gods are just, | and of our pleasant vices make instruments to plague us |
The wheel | is come full circle |
Twixt two | extremes of passion, joy and grief |
Some good I mean | to do despite of mine own nature |
The gods | defend her |
Enter Lear, | with Cordelia (dead) in his arms |
Mine eyes | are not o’ th’ best |
All friends | shall taste… the cups of their deservings – Albany |
Why should a dog, | a horse, a rat, have life and thou no breath at all? |
This tough | world – Kent |
Never, never, | never, never, never! |
If Edgar | live, O bless him |
Thy life’s | a miracle |
A most | poor man, made tame to fortune’s blows |
you have | many opportunities to cut him off (Albany) |
If I could bear it longer | and not fall quarrel with your great opposeless wills |
my… | loathed part of nature should burn itself out |
it was | some fiend |
the clearest gods, who make | them honours of men’s impossibilities have preserved thee |
I am even | the natural fool of fortune – Lear |
King Lear Quotes
July 15, 2019