This mode of thought is responsible, lastly, for a very striking characteristic of King Lear—­one in which it has no parallel except Timon—­the incessant references to the lower animals[144] and man’s likeness to them.  These references are scattered broadcast through the whole play, as though Shakespeare’s mind were so busy with the subject that he could hardly write a page without some allusion to it.  The dog, the horse, the cow, the sheep, the hog, the lion, the bear, the wolf, the fox, the monkey, the pole-cat, the civet-cat, the pelican, the owl, the crow, the chough, the wren, the fly, the butterfly, the rat, the mouse, the frog, the tadpole, the wall-newt, the water-newt, the worm—­I am sure I cannot have completed the list, and some of them are mentioned again and again.  Often, of course, and especially in the talk of Edgar as the Bedlam, they have no symbolical meaning; but not seldom, even in his talk, they are expressly referred to for their typical qualities—­’hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey,’ ’The fitchew nor the soiled horse goes to’t With a more riotous appetite.’  Sometimes a person in the drama is compared, openly or implicitly, with one of them.  Goneril is a kite:  her ingratitude has a serpent’s tooth:  she has struck her father most serpent-like upon the very heart:  her visage is wolvish:  she has tied sharp-toothed unkindness like a vulture on her father’s breast:  for her husband she is a gilded serpent:  to Gloster her cruelty seems to have the fangs of a boar.  She and Regan are dog-hearted:  they are tigers, not daughters:  each is an adder to the other:  the flesh of each is covered with the fell of a beast.  Oswald is a mongrel, and the son and heir of a mongrel:  ducking to everyone in power, he is a wag-tail:  white with fear, he is a goose.  Gloster, for Regan, is an ingrateful fox:  Albany, for his wife, has a cowish spirit and is milk-liver’d:  when Edgar as the Bedlam first appeared to Lear he made him think a man a worm.  As we read, the souls of all the beasts in turn seem to us to have entered the bodies of these mortals; horrible in their venom, savagery, lust, deceitfulness, sloth, cruelty, filthiness; miserable in their feebleness, nakedness, defencelessness, blindness; and man, ’consider him well,’ is even what they are.  Shakespeare, to whom the idea of the transmigration of souls was familiar and had once been material for jest,[145] seems to have been brooding on humanity in the light of it.  It is remarkable, and somewhat sad, that he seems to find none of man’s better qualities in the world of the brutes (though he might well have found the prototype of the self-less love of Kent and Cordelia in the dog whom he so habitually maligns);[146] but he seems to have been asking himself whether that which he loathes in man may not be due to some strange wrenching of this frame of things, through which the lower animal souls have found a lodgment in human