The Fifth Desk · Canonical Evaluation
Act I · The Map
William Shakespeare · a tragedy in five acts · twenty-six scenes · 25,142 spoken words · in the conflated text of the Quarto (1608) and the Folio (1623)
Mode
Tragedy of state and family; the chronicle history turned against its own sources
Mythos
The folktale love-test, three daughters and the youngest true; Fortune’s wheel; the Last Judgment called up and withheld
Phase
One fall from the throne to the heath and the prison, made twice, in two families; the storm at the centre
Presentation
Drama; five acts and twenty-six scenes, about three-quarters verse by words, in a text conflated from the Quarto of 1608 and the Folio of 1623
Register
From the ceremonial verse of the love-test to the Fool’s jingles, Tom’s catalogue prose and the monosyllables of the end
Scale
A kingdom in partition, two families, one storm, one old man
Governing Proposition
A king who asks his daughters to measure their love gives his kingdom to the two who can, and is stripped on a heath of everything power had lent him until he stands beside a naked beggar. The play’s wager is that what a person needs cannot be reasoned, and that the man who learns it learns it too late to be saved by it.
Act II · The Essay
Movement I
“Give me the map there.” The play opens on a king dividing his kingdom in three and asking a question no answer can meet: “Which of you shall we say doth love us most?” Goneril answers in the ceremonial style, “Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter”, and Regan outbids her. The youngest, asked what she can say to draw “A third more opulent than your sisters”, says “Nothing, my lord.” Lear turns the word back on her, “Nothing?”, and then gives it its law: “Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again.” She will love him “According to my bond; no more nor less.” Love asked to measure itself has become a contract, and the contract breaks in one scene.
Kent, who tells the king to his face what he has done, is banished for it: “See better, Lear, and let me still remain / The true blank of thine eye.” France takes the dowerless daughter. In the next scene the play sets a second family going beside the first. Edmund, Gloucester’s bastard, prays to another nature, “Thou, Nature, art my goddess; to thy law / My services are bound”, and forges a letter in his brother’s name: “Now, gods, stand up for bastards!” One father has misread his children by their words; the other misreads his by a letter. From here the two stories run side by side, and neither is subordinate.
By the fourth scene the gift is being taken back. Goneril wants the hundred knights reduced, and the king who gave everything away finds that the self he kept was made of what he gave. “Doth any here know me? This is not Lear.” “Who is it that can tell me who I am?” The Fool answers in two words: “Lear’s shadow.” He has said it already in prose: “Now thou art an O without a figure. I am better than thou art now: I am a fool, thou art nothing.” The word that broke the first scene is spoken twenty times in the first act, and once in the last.
Movement II
The second act takes away what the first gave. Kent, in disguise as a servant, is set in the stocks for beating Goneril’s steward and goes to sleep there: “Fortune, good night; smile once more, turn thy wheel.” Edgar, proclaimed a traitor on his brother’s word, chooses “the basest and most poorest shape / That ever penury, in contempt of man, / Brought near to beast”, the Bedlam beggar, and leaves the stage with his own name cancelled: “Edgar I nothing am.” The scene is 153 words long, the second shortest in the play. The man who will lead his blind father to Dover has made himself nothing first.
Then the daughters bargain. Goneril has already cut his hundred knights to fifty. Regan will take him only if he brings “but five-and-twenty”. Goneril asks, “What need you five-and-twenty, ten, or five”, and Regan finishes the count: “What need one?” Lear answers with the play’s principle: “O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars / Are in the poorest thing superfluous. / Allow not nature more than nature needs, / Man’s life is cheap as beast’s.” A love that could be measured has become a retinue that can be counted, and the counting ends at nothing. Thirteen of the play’s nineteen uses of “need” and its forms fall in this act.
He cannot finish the answer. The threat that follows breaks off before it finds its object: “What they are yet, I know not; but they shall be / The terrors of the earth!” He will not weep, “this heart / Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws / Or ere I’ll weep”, and the speech ends where the next act begins: “O fool, I shall go mad!” The storm breaks as he goes. Cornwall’s comment is practical, “Let us withdraw; ’twill be a storm”, and Regan gives the order the act ends on: “Shut up your doors.”
Movement III
The storm has no long scene. Its seven scenes cut between the heath and the castle interiors. “Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!” Lear commands the weather and then releases it from blame: “I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness. / I never gave you kingdom, call’d you children”. The arithmetic of the play puts its centre here. Word 12,571 of 25,142 falls in Kent’s report of the night: “Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never / Remember to have heard.” A few lines later Lear gives his own verdict: “I am a man / More sinn’d against than sinning.”
At the hovel he stays outside to pray, and not for himself. “Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are, / That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm”. He finds the fault his own: “O, I have ta’en / Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; / Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel”. Then the naked man comes out of the straw. Edgar, as poor Tom, is the “houseless poverty” the king has just prayed for, and Lear sees in him the answer to the question of the first act: “Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings!” He calls the beggar “this philosopher”.
In a farmhouse the madness holds court. Lear tries his absent daughters before a bench of a fool, a madman and a disguised servant, a scene the Quarto gives and the Folio cuts. The trial reaches one real question and leaves it there: “Then let them anatomize Regan. See what breeds about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts?” Nobody answers. The Fool speaks his last line in the same scene, “And I’ll go to bed at noon”, and the play does not bring him back.
Movement IV
Gloucester has helped the king toward Dover, and Cornwall has him bound to a chair. He defies them: “But I shall see / The winged vengeance overtake such children.” Cornwall answers, “See’t shalt thou never.” One of his own servants draws on him: “I have serv’d you ever since I was a child; / But better service have I never done you / Than now to bid you hold.” Regan takes a sword and kills the man from behind: “A peasant stand up thus?” Cornwall puts out the second eye, “Out, vile jelly! / Where is thy lustre now?”, and Gloucester learns in the dark which son betrayed him: “O my follies! Then Edgar was abus’d.”
Turned out to “smell / His way to Dover”, he meets an old tenant and refuses help. “I have no way, and therefore want no eyes; / I stumbled when I saw.” It is the answer, three acts late, to Kent’s “See better, Lear”, and it is spoken by the other father. The son he wronged is beside him as a beggar, and thinks the worst has come until he sees it: “The worst is not / So long as we can say ‘This is the worst.’” Gloucester has his own theology ready: “As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods. / They kill us for their sport.” Eyes and seeing are named more often in this act than in any other.
At Dover Edgar leads his father up a hill that is not there. “Methinks the ground is even.” “Horrible steep.” He builds the cliff in words, “The crows and choughs that wing the midway air / Show scarce so gross as beetles”, and Gloucester falls forward on level ground: “Thy life is a miracle.” Then Lear comes in, mad, dressed in weeds, and the two fathers meet. “Ay, every inch a king!” Gloucester asks to kiss his hand. “Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.” The mad king tells the blind man how the world goes, and the blind man answers, “I see it feelingly.” What Lear sees is the state: “a dog’s obeyed in office.”
Movement V
The king wakes in Cordelia’s care. “You do me wrong to take me out o’ th’ 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.” He tries to kneel to her, and she stops him: “No, sir, you must not kneel.” He names himself plainly: “I am a very foolish fond old man, / Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less”. He says she has cause not to love him. She answers, “No cause, no cause.” The love that would not measure itself in the first scene refuses to measure the wrong.
The battle is lost offstage, and Lear asks for nothing but a prison with her. “Come, let’s away to prison. / We two alone will sing like birds i’ th’ cage. / When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down / And ask of thee forgiveness.” Edmund sends a captain after them with a writ. In every source the play inherited the king is restored, and in the chronicles Cordelia dies later, by her own hand, in prison. The play gives that ending to her murderer as a cover story: his order was “To lay the blame upon her own despair / That she fordid herself.” Albany cries “The gods defend her!”, and Lear enters with her dead in his arms. Johnson could not bear to reread these scenes.
“Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stone.” Kent asks, “Is this the promis’d end?”, and Edgar, “Or image of that horror?” “And my poor fool is hang’d! No, no, no life! / Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, / And thou no breath at all? Thou’lt come no more, / Never, never, never, never, never! / Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir.” He dies looking at something the play does not show: “Look there, look there!” In this text, as in the Quarto, the last speech is Albany’s: “The oldest have borne most; we that are young / Shall never see so much, nor live so long.”
Act III · The Twelve
Judged on the work for structure and on this text in part. The double plot passes the subtractive test outright: without Gloucester, Lear’s error is one man’s temper; with him it is a law, and “I stumbled when I saw” (4.1) answers “See better, Lear” (1.1). What holds the axis at 8.9 is the machinery and the text. Letters drive the plot; Kent keeps a disguise he never explains; Edgar withholds himself from his father and confesses it: “Never (O fault!) reveal’d myself unto him” (5.3). The conflation adds the Quarto’s 4.3, the Folio’s Merlin prophecy (3.2) and a Kent speech joined from both (3.1). On the work alone, two tenths higher.
Score: 8.9 / 10
The disclosure can be stated and it holds: love asked to measure itself becomes a contract and breaks, and every dignity power wears is borrowed. Cordelia will love “According to my bond; no more nor less” (1.1). Lear finds the principle too late: “O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars / Are in the poorest thing superfluous” (2.4). The heath strips the borrowing to “unaccommodated man” (3.4); Dover adds “a dog’s obeyed in office” (4.6). It holds without the play’s gods. Held off the top by its own unanswered question, “Is there any cause in nature that makes these hard hearts?” (3.6): the sisters’ case is put once and dropped.
Score: 9.7 / 10
Height at the ceiling, and frequency near it from 2.4 onward. Terror in the storm, “Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!” (3.2), and in the blinding, “Out, vile jelly!” (3.7); grandeur turned to pity in “Poor naked wretches, wheresoe’er you are” (3.4); vertigo at a cliff that is not there, “The crows and choughs that wing the midway air / Show scarce so gross as beetles” (4.6); beauty in “I am a very foolish fond old man” (4.7). Then Lear’s last speech, fifty of its fifty-seven words of one syllable. Held a step off the top by ground-level stretches: the plotting of Acts I and II, the heralds before the duel in 5.3.
Score: 9.7 / 10
Myth built, not evoked. The folktale love-test, three daughters and the youngest true, is the engine, and the play breaks the folktale’s law: the true daughter is not rewarded. Fortune’s wheel is load-bearing and recurs, from “turn thy wheel” (2.2) to “a wheel of fire” (4.7) and “The wheel is come full circle” (5.3). The last scene calls up the Last Judgment and stops short of it: “Is this the promis’d end?” (5.3). Lear stays particular throughout, down to “Pray you undo this button” (5.3). Held below the summit because Edgar’s archetypes come in sequence rather than as one figure: Bedlam beggar, peasant, then a nameless champion, evoked rather than built.
Score: 9.6 / 10
Every source restores the king: King Leir (printed 1605), Holinshed, Geoffrey of Monmouth, Spenser. In the chronicles Cordelia dies later, by her own hand. The play hangs her before her father’s eyes and gives the chronicle ending to her murderer as a cover story: “To lay the blame upon her own despair / That she fordid herself” (5.3). It grafts on Sidney’s Paphlagonian king to make a second family, sets a Fool at the centre of a tragedy, and ends a pagan world without providence. The stake was real: Tate’s happy ending of 1681 held the stage for about a century and a half. Held below the summit by a proven form and an inherited Machiavel.
Score: 9.4 / 10
Change the form and the play loses what it knows. On a bare stage Dover cliff puts the audience where the blind man is, “Methinks the ground is even.” “Horrible steep.” (4.6); only theatre can make that fall. The verse breaks as the order breaks: Lear speaks almost wholly verse in Act II and a quarter prose in Act IV. The storm breaks into seven short scenes, and the play’s arithmetical centre falls inside it, in 3.2. “Nothing” sounds twenty times in Act I and once in Act V. Held below the top band by the Quarto and Folio question: this shape is neither 1608’s nor 1623’s, and the Folio cuts the mock trial of 3.6.
Score: 9.5 / 10
Evidence rather than promise: four centuries of re-examination without exhaustion. Johnson’s note (1765), Lamb’s claim that the play cannot be acted (1811), Keats’s sonnet (1818), Bradley (1904), Tolstoy’s attack (1906) and Orwell’s answer (1947), Cavell’s “The Avoidance of Love” (1969), and The Division of the Kingdoms (1983), which reopened the text itself. The yield is in the play as well. What Lear sees at “Look there, look there!” (5.3), joy or delusion, cannot be settled; nor whether “my poor fool is hang’d” means Cordelia, the Fool or both. The pairings keep producing: Cordelia’s “you must not kneel” (4.7) against Lear’s “When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down” (5.3).
Score: 9.8 / 10
A published work, so intrinsic force and achieved reach are scored together. The force is great: tragedy enlarged to kingdom and cosmos and refused every consolation; madness and folly made ways of telling the truth, the naked beggar become “this philosopher” (3.4); a second plot of equal weight, fully integrated. The reach was delayed, and delay is credited and discounted: Tate’s version held the stage from 1681, and the tragic ending returned only in the 1820s. Achieved reach is scored with intrinsic force: the redirection since is documented, through Keats and Shelley, Turgenev’s King Lear of the Steppes, Beckett’s Endgame as Kott read it, Brook’s 1962 production, Bond’s Lear, Kurosawa’s Ran and Smiley’s A Thousand Acres.
Score: 9.4 / 10
Survival is demonstrated over four centuries, in two early printings and continuous editing since 1709. The surface is Jacobean in places: Gloucester’s “late eclipses in the sun and moon” (1.2), Edgar’s devils out of Harsnett’s pamphlet of 1603 on exorcism, the Fool’s “If I had a monopoly out” (1.4), a divided Britain staged before the king who had just united the crowns. None of it is needed to follow the play. The cost lies elsewhere: for about a century and a half the play survived in print while the stage played Tate, and some of the Fool’s jokes now need notes. The depth pays nothing for its moment; the eclipse costs a step.
Score: 9.6 / 10
Judged on Shakespeare’s English, with no translation between. The range of command is wide: the ceremonial verse of the love-test, “more than words can wield the matter” (1.1), against “Nothing”; Lear’s syntax breaking under its own threat (2.4); the Fool’s jingles; Edgar’s four registers, from Tom’s catalogue prose to the Somerset of “Chill not let go, zir” (4.6) and the knight’s challenge; Kent’s “three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave” (2.2); the monosyllables at the end. Repetition is 0.14 per cent, all of it deliberate. Held below the top band by construction: the letter plot, deaths reported from offstage, and the king forgotten in his own last scene, “Great thing of us forgot!” (5.3).
Score: 9.5 / 10
The two most distant elements, the Fool’s riddle of “why a snail has a house” (1.5) and Cordelia dead in Lear’s arms, obey one law: the contest over nature, named forty-nine times, from “Thou, Nature, art my goddess” (1.2) and “Hear, Nature, hear!” (1.4) to the question of 3.6. The two theologies, “As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods” (4.1) and “The gods are just” (5.3), are held under that law. The plot is less strict: Kent is forty-eight (1.4) to Lear’s “Fourscore and upward” (4.7), and Albany fights a French army while granting its cause (5.1). In this text Kent’s speech in 3.1 joins two versions, and the seam shows.
Score: 9.4 / 10
The orders are many and one question holds them: what a person needs. Consciousness and madness, “O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!” (1.5); two families; the state in partition and invasion; law, “handy-dandy” (4.6); the economy of “shake the superflux to them” (3.4); service and labour, the First Servant who dies stopping a duke (3.7) and the sampire-gatherer’s “dreadful trade” (4.6); sex, “Let copulation thrive” (4.6); age, “Age is unnecessary” (2.4); the gods and the “promis’d end” (5.3). They are integrated, not listed: the storm reaches king and beggar alike. History is held weakly. The setting is legendary and pre-Christian, and the Fool jokes about it: “I live before his time” (3.2).
Score: 9.6 / 10
Act IV · The Reckoning
9.5 / 10 — Final Average
Canonical Placement: Tier V — Epochal
Strongest Dimensions
The Bottomless Well at 9.8, with The Unconcealment and The Sublime at 9.7. Four centuries of return without exhaustion, a disclosure about need and borrowed dignity that holds without the play’s gods, and an elevation that reaches the ceiling and recurs from the second act to the last speech.
Limiting Dimension
The Inevitable at 8.9, held by the machinery — the letters, Kent’s unexplained disguise, Edgar’s delay — and by the conflated text, which carries matter from both early printings; on the work alone it would stand two tenths higher. Next above it, The Swerve, Pressure on Tradition and The Inner Law at 9.4: a proven form, a reach delayed by a century and a half of Tate, and slips in the plot.
The Necessity Cap clears at 8.9 against a threshold of 7.5. The Coherence Floor clears with room: The Living Form at 9.5, The Made at 9.5, The Inner Law at 9.4, each against 7.0. The Epochal Gate is met on all five: The Unconcealment at 9.7, The Archetypal Deep at 9.6, The Imperishable at 9.6, The Swerve at 9.4 and Pressure on Tradition at 9.4 clear the bar of 8.5. The Universal Minimum is met — no axis falls below 8.9, against 7.5 — and The Encompassed clears its own floor of 6.0 at 9.6. Every summit condition is met.
Basis · a full reading of King Lear in Project Gutenberg e-text #1128 (1997), the World Library text — five acts, twenty-six scenes and 25,142 spoken words. The text is a conflated one. It joins the Quarto of 1608 and the Folio of 1623, as editors did from the eighteenth century until the 1980s, and so gives a play that neither early printing gives; the file does not name the edition it was based on. Where the two printings differ in a way that bears on a score, the entry says so. Quotations are from this text and cited by act and scene.