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        Cordelia’s chief 
    characteristics are devotion, kindness, beauty, and honesty—honesty to a 
    fault, perhaps. She is contrasted throughout the play with Goneril and 
    Regan, who are neither honest nor loving, and who manipulate their father 
    for their own ends. By refusing to take part in Lear’s love test at the 
    beginning of the play, Cordelia establishes herself as a repository of 
    virtue, and the obvious authenticity of her love for Lear makes clear the 
    extent of the king’s error in banishing her. For most of the middle section 
    of the play, she is offstage, but as we observe the depredations of Goneril 
    and Regan and watch Lear’s descent into madness, Cordelia is never far from 
    the audience’s thoughts, and her beauty is venerably described in religious 
    terms. Indeed, rumors of her return to Britain begin to surface almost 
    immediately, and once she lands at Dover, the action of the play begins to 
    move toward her, as all the characters converge on the coast. Cordelia’s 
    reunion with Lear marks the apparent restoration of order in the kingdom and 
    the triumph of love and forgiveness over hatred and spite. This fleeting 
    moment of familial happiness makes the devastating finale of King Lear that 
    much more cruel, as Cordelia, the personification of kindness and virtue, 
    becomes a literal sacrifice to the heartlessness of an apparently unjust 
    world  Of all of the play’s villains, Edmund is the most complex and 
    sympathetic. He is a consummate schemer, a Machiavellian character eager to 
    seize any opportunity and willing to do anything to achieve his goals. 
    However, his ambition is interesting insofar as it reflects not only a 
    thirst for land and power but also a desire for the recognition denied to 
    him by his status as a bastard. His serial treachery is not merely 
    self-interested; it is a conscious rebellion against the social order that 
    has denied him the same status as Gloucester’s legitimate son, Edgar. “Now, 
    gods, stand up for bastards,” (Act I, Scene ii, L22) Edmund commands, but in 
    fact he depends not on divine aid but on his own initiative. He is the 
    ultimate self-made man, and he is such a cold and capable villain that it is 
    entertaining to watch him work, much as the audience can appreciate the 
    clever wickedness of Iago in Othello. Only at the close of the play does 
    Edmund show a flicker of weakness. Mortally wounded, he sees that both 
    Goneril and Regan have died for him, and whispers, “Yet Edmund was beloved” 
    (Act V, Scene iii, L238). After this ambiguous statement, he seems to repent 
    of his villainy and admits to having ordered Cordelia’s death. His peculiar 
    change of heart, rare among Shakespearean villains, is enough to make the 
    audience wonder, amid the carnage, whether Edmund’s villainy sprang not from 
    some innate cruelty but simply from a thwarted, misdirected desire for the 
    familial love that he witnessed around him. 
     There is little good to be said for Lear’s older 
    daughters, who are largely indistinguishable in their villainy and spite. 
    Goneril and Regan are clever—or at least clever enough to flatter their 
    father in the play’s opening scene—and, early in the play, their bad 
    behavior toward Lear seems matched by his own pride and temper. But any 
    sympathy that the audience can muster for them evaporates quickly, first 
    when they turn their father out into the storm at the end of Act II and then 
    when they viciously put out Gloucester’s eyes in Act III. Goneril and Regan 
    are, in a sense, personifications of evil—they have no conscience, only 
    appetite. It is this greedy ambition that enables them to crush all 
    opposition and make themselves mistresses of Britain. Ultimately, however, 
    this same appetite brings about their undoing. Their desire for power is 
    satisfied, but both harbor sexual desire for Edmund, which destroys their 
    alliance and eventually leads them to destroy each other. Evil, the play 
    suggests, inevitably turns in on itself. 
    
      
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