Lear. Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar?
Gloster. Ay, sir.
Lear. And the creature run from the cur? There might'st thou
behold the great image of AUTHORITY: a dog's obeyed in office.
Through tattered robes small vices do appear;
Robes, and furred gowns, hide all.
[Robes,—robes, and furred gowns!]
Plate sin with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks;
Arm it with rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it.
But that was before Tom got his seat on the bench—that was before Tom got his place at the council-table.
'None does offend,—none—'
[unless you will begin your reform at the beginning, and hunt down the great rogues as well as the little ones; or, rather, unless you will go to the source of the evil, and take away the evils, of which these crimes, that you are awarding penalties to, are the result, let it all alone, I say. Let's have no more legislation, and no more of this JUSTICE, this EQUITY, that takes the vices which come through the tattered robes, and leaves the great thief in his purple untouched. Let us have no more of this mockery. Let us be impartial in our justice, at least.] 'None does offend. I say none. I'll able 'em.' [I'll show you the way. Soft. Hark, in thine ear.] 'Take that of me, my friend, who have the power TO SEAL THE ACCUSER'S LIPS.' [Soft, in thine ear.]—
'Get thee glass eyes,
And like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not.—Now, now, now, NOW.
* * * * *
I know thee well enough. Thy name is—Gloster.
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither.
Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air
We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee; mark me.
Gloster. Alack, alack, the day!
Lear. When we are born, we cry that we are come
To this great stage of—Fools.
[Mark me, for I preach to thee—of Fools.
I am even the natural fool of fortune.]
—'O matter and impertinency, mixed
Reason in madness.'—
—is the Poet's concluding comment on this regal boldness, a safe and saving explanation; 'for to define true madness,' as Polonius says, 'what is it but to be nothing else but mad.' If the 'all licensed fool,' as Goneril peevishly calls him, under cover of his assumed imbecility, could carry his traditional privilege to such dangerous extremes, and carp and philosophize, and fling his bitter jests about at his pleasure, surely downright madness might claim to be invested with a privilege as large. But madness, when conjoined with royalty, makes a double privilege, one which this Poet finds, however, at times, none too large for his purposes.