King Lear quotes

Which of you shall we say doth love us most?

I love you more than word can wield the matter, Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty

Love, and be silent

Since I am sure my love's More ponderous than my tongue

Nothing, my lord

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth. I love your majesty According to my bond; no more nor less

I loved her most, and thought to set my rest On her kind nursery.

With my two daughters' dowers digest the third.

Better thou Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better

Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land

Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

If our father would sleep till I waked him, you should enjoy half his revenue for ever

Unnatural, detested, brutish villain!

These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us

Some villain hath done me wrong

Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit: All with me's meet that I can fashion fit

By day and night he wrongs me; every hour He flashes into one gross crime or other

Old fools are babes again

Are you our daughter?

Into her womb convey sterility

How sharper than a serpant's tooth it is To have a thankless child!

I did her wrong-

O let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven!

Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means To make thee capable

my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!

I will preserve myself, and am bethought To take the basest and most poorest shape

Edgar I nothing am

If thou shouldst not be glad, I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb

struck me with her tongue, Most serpent-like

But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter– Or rather a disease that's in my flesh Which I must needs call mine

Our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous

No, you unnatural hags

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!

A poor, infirm, weak and despised old man

For there was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.

I am a man More sinned against than sinning.

There is strange things toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful

The younger rises when the old doth fall

Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown so vilde, That it doth hate what gets it