Part 21 (1/2)

_Lear_. Prythee, go in thyself. _Seek thine own ease_.

. . . . But, I'll go in.

In, boy,--_go first--[To the Fool.]_ You, _houseless_ poverty'--

He knows the meaning of that phrase now.

'Nay get thee in. I'll PRAY, and then I'll sleep.'

[_Fool goes in_.]

'Poor, naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,'--

There are no empty phrases in this prayer, the critic of it may perceive: it is a learned prayer; the pet.i.tioner knows the meaning of each word in it: the tempest is the book in which he studied it.

'How shall your _houseless heads_ and _unfed sides_, Your _looped_ and _windowed raggedness_ defend you From _seasons such as these_? O, I have taken _Too little care of_ THIS. [Hear, hear]. Take physic, POMP; [Hear.]

Expose thyself to _feel_ what wretches _feel_, _That thou mayest shake the superflux to them_, _And show the_ HEAVENS _more just_.'

That is his _prayer_. To minds accustomed to the ceremonial a religious wors.h.i.+p, 'with court holy water in a dry house' only, or to those who have never undertaken to compose a prayer for the king and all the royal family at the hovel's mouth, and in such immediate proximity to animals of a different species, it will not perhaps seem a very pious one. But considering that it was understood to have been composed during the heathen ages of this realm, and before Christianity had got itself so comfortably established as a principle of government and social regulations, perhaps it was as good a prayer for a penitent king to go to sleep on, as could well be invented.

Certainly the spirit of Christianity, as it appeared in the life of its Founder, at least, seems to be, by a poetic anachronism incorporated in it.

But it is never the custom of this author to leave the diligent student of his performances in any doubt whatever as to his meaning.

It is a rule, that everything in the play shall speak and reverberate his purpose. He prolongs and repeats his burthens, till the whole action echoes with them, till 'the groves, the fountains, every region near, seem all one mutual cry.' He has indeed the Teacher's trick of repet.i.tion, but then he is 'so rare a wondered teacher,' so rich in magical resources, that he does not often find it necessary to weary _the sense_ with sameness. He is prodigal in variety. It is a Proteus repet.i.tion. But his charge to his Ariel in getting up his Masques, always is,--

'Bring a corollary, Rather than want a spirit.'

Nay, it would be dangerous, not wearisome merely, to make the text of this living commentary continuous, or to bring too near together 'those short and pithy sentences' wherein the action unwinds and fas.h.i.+ons into its immortal groups. And the curtain must fall and rise again, ere the outcast duke,--his eyes gouged out by tyranny, turned forth to smell his way to Dover,--can dare to echo, word by word, the thoughts of the outcast king.

Led by one whose qualification for leaders.h.i.+p is, that he is 'Madman and Beggar, too,'--for as Gloster explains it to us, explaining also at the same time much else that the scenic language of the play, the dumb show, the transitory hieroglyphic of it presents, and _all_ the criticism of it,

''T IS THE TIME'S PLAGUE WHEN MADMEN LEAD THE BLIND'--

groping with such leaders.h.i.+p his way to Dover--'smelling it out'--thus it is that his secret understanding with the king, in that mad and wondrous philosophical humour of his, betrays itself.

_Gloster_. Here, take this purse [to Tom o'Bedlam], _thou whom the heaven's plagues Have humbled to all strokes_: that I am wretched Makes thee the happier:--_Heavens, deal so still_!

Let the _superfluous_ and l.u.s.t-dieted man That _slaves_ your ordinance, that will not SEE _Because_ he doth not FEEL, feel your power quickly; _So distribution should undo excess, And each man have enough_.

_Lear_. O I have taken _Too little care of this._ Take physic, Pomp; Expose thyself to FEEL what wretches FEEL, _That_ thou may'st shake the _superflux to them, And show the Heavens more just_.

Truly, these men would seem to have been taking lessons in the same school. But it is very seldom that two men in real life, of equal learning on any topic, coincide so exactly in their trains of thought, and in the niceties of their expression in discussing it. The emphasis is deep, indeed, when _this_ author graves his meaning with _such_ a repet.i.tion. But Regan's stern school-master is abroad in this play, enforcing the philosophic subtleties, bringing home to the _senses_ the neglected lessons of nature; full of errands to '_wilful men_,'

charged with coa.r.s.e lessons to those who will learn through the senses only great Nature's lore--that '_slave_ Heaven's ordinance--that will not SEE, because they do not FEEL.'

CHAPTER III.

THE KING AND THE BEGGAR.

_Armado_. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?

_Moth_. The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since: but, I think, now 'tis not to be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for the writing, _nor for the tune_.