LEAR
O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars
Are in the poorest thing superfluous.
Allow not nature more than nature needs,
Man's life's as cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady;
If only to go warm were gorgeous,
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st,
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true
need— (2.4.304-311)
When Goneril and Regan strip Lear of all his knights and say he has no "need" for so many men, Lear proclaims that "need" is not the point. Lear acknowledges he doesn't "need" a retinue of knights but, he says, even the lowliest "beggars / are in the poorest thing superfluous."
Translation: even beggars have something more than the bare minimum, so Lear should be able to keep his retinue of knights. If all men were allowed only to have the bare essentials, he would be no better than an animal or, "beast." As an example, Lear points out that Goneril and Regan wear gorgeous clothes that can hardly be said to keep them warm—Goneril and Regan wear such outfits not because they need them for warmth but because they're fashionable. So, is Lear right? When man only has the bare essentials, is he no better than an animal?
Quote 29
LEAR
This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent?
KENT
The same,
Your servant Kent. Where is your servant Caius?
LEAR
He's a good fellow, I can tell you that.
He'll strike, and quickly too. He's dead and rotten.
KENT
No, my good lord, I am the very man—
LEAR
I'll see that straight.
KENT
That, from your first of difference and decay
Have followed your sad steps.
LEAR
You are welcome
hither.
KENT
Nor no man else. All's cheerless, dark, and deadly.
Your eldest daughters have fordone themselves,
And desperately are dead.
LEAR
Ay, so I think.
ALBANY
He knows not what he says, and vain it is
That we present us to him. (5.3.340-356)
Loyalty? It's not rewarded in King Lear. When Kent finally reveals his true identity to Lear, it's too late.
LEAR
My wits begin to turn.—
Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold?
I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange
That can make vile things precious. Come, your
hovel.—
Poor Fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
That's sorry yet for thee. (3.2.73-80)
Even while Lear teeters on the brink of insanity, he feels pity for the Fool. Mr. T would be proud.