Nothing will come of nothing. So says Lear,
And I have yet to see an actor do
That line like Scofield did it: he could hear
Cordelia’s answer as he spoke, and knew
He’d done her wrong, knew that he’d been a fool.
That’s what Lear’s madness is: a mind that’s rent
By the hard truth that consequences rule
Our lives, no matter what our actions meant.
In Scofield’s recognition, all is done
Of his descent except the going down,
Till nothing matters underneath the sun
But glimpses of a girl in a French crown:
Soft in his arms, saved from the old world’s wreck
With nothing but a noose around her neck.
Copyright 2014 Matthew J Wells