uses characteristically veiled language, delicate in expression, yet fervid in feeling and imagination [See SOLILOQUIES for the passage commencing But, O, strange men "]; and there is another instance cited under the same heading [See SOLILOQUIES for the passage commencing "Affection! thy intention stabs the centre"] which contains example of our poet's peculiar power of writing forcible meaning in the most shrouded language.

Duke. Thou dost speak masterly:

My life upon 't, young though thou art, thine eye
Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves ;-
Hath it not, boy?

Viola. A little, by your favour.—Tw. N., ii. 4.

6

This reply, seemingly signifying a little, by your leave,' hiddenly expresses I have suffered mine eye to rest upon your own countenance (or "favour") at moments when your not perceiving me has favoured my looking upon you.'

Duke. But died thy sister of her love, my boy?

Viola. I am all the daughters of my father's house,

And all the brothers too; and yet I know not.-Ibid., ii. 4.

Here the gentle girl-page answers so as to convey the effect of her averring that there are no female survivors in her family, and that she has no brother living, while she really owns herself to be the only daughter of her father and disclaims being his son.

Olivia. Stay: I pr'ythee, tell me what thou think'st of me.
Viola. That you do think you are not what you are.

Olivia. If I think so, I think the same of you.

Viola. Then think you right: I am not what I am.
Olivia. I would you were as I would have you be !
Viola. Would it be better, madam, than I am,

I wish it might; for now I am your fool.
By innocence I swear, and by my youth,
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth-

And that no woman has; nor never none

Shall mistress be of it, save I alone.-Ibid., iii. 1

In the whole of this dialogue, Viola charmingly reveals to us, who are in her secret, her womanhood, while she merely seems, to Olivia, confessing her inability to return the lady's avowed preference.

Portia. I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
I lose your company: therefore, forbear awhile.
There's something tells me (but it is not love),
I would not lose you; and you know yourself,
Hate counsels not in such a quality.

But lest you should not understand me well
(And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought),
I would detain you here some month or two,
Before you venture for me. I could teach you
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn;
So will I never be so may you miss me;
But if you do, you 'll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
They have o'erlook'd me, and divided me;
One half of me is yours, the other half yours-

Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours! O, these naughty times
Put bars between the owners and their rights!

And so, though yours, not yours.-Mer. of V., iii. 2.

Bewitchingly true is this speech to womanly nature in its grace and archness: disclaiming love, yet letting love be seen in every phrase of playful riddling half-confession.

Lady Capulet. Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? . . .
Juliet. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

Lady Capulet. So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend
Which you weep for.

Juliet.

Feeling so the loss,

I cannot choose but ever weep the friend.

Lady Capulet. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.

Juliet. What villain, madam?

Lady Capulet.

That same villain, Romeo.
Juliet. Villain and he be many miles asunder.

God pardon him! I do, with all my heart;

And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart.

Lady Capulet. That is, because the traitor murderer lives.
Juliet. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands:

Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!

Lady Capulet. We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:
Then weep no more. I'll send one to Mantua-

Where that same banish'd runagate doth live

Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram,
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company:
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.
Juliet. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied
With Romeo, till I behold him-dead-
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd:
Madam, if you could find out but a man
To bear a poison, I would temper it;
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof,
Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors
To hear him nam'd-and cannot come to him,

To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt

Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him !-R. & Jul., iii. 5.

These shifts and evasions of speech are precisely such as a young Italian girl, brought up in fear of her parents rather than in loving confidence with them, would instinctively use, when pressed to despera tion by a passion of love and grief.

Fool. For you trow, nuncle,

The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,
That it had its head bit off by its young.

So out went the candle, and we were left darkling.-Lear, i. 4.
Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.

Fathers that wear rags

Do make their children blind;

But fathers that bear bags

Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,

Ne'er turns the key to the poor.

But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours for thy daughter as thou canst tell in a year.-Ibid., ii. 4.

Fool. We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee there's no labouring i' the winter. All that follow their noses are led by their eyes, but blind men; and there's

not a nose among twenty but can smell him that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with following it; but the great one that goes up the hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it.

That sir which serves and seeks for gain,

And follows but for form,

Will pack when it begins to rain,

And leave thee in the storm.
But I will tarry; the fool will stay,
And let the wise man fly:

The knave turns fool that runs away;

The fool no knave, perdy.-Lear, ii. 4.

By such scraps of figuratively enigmatic sarcasm and worldly-wise. precept, Lear's Fool marks his sense of his old master's ill-usage. In the last of the three above-cited passages, the line "the knave turns fool that runs away" has been thought erroneous by some commentators; who propose that "knave" and "fool" should be transposed. But we think that Shakespeare, in his own noble philosophy, here affirms that the cunning rogue who deserts his benefactor in the time of reverse, from motives of prudence, shows himself fool as well as knave-moral miscalculator as well as moral coward.

Occasionally, for the sake of characteristic effect, Shakespeare gives. purposely confused or obscure diction [See PECULIAR CONSTRUCTION]:

Edmund. In wisdom, I should ask thy name;
But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike,
And that thy tongue some 'say of breeding breathes,
What safe and nicely I might well delay

By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn:
Back do I toss these treasons to thy head;

With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart;

Which-for they yet glance by, and scarcely bruise—
This sword of mine shall give them instant way,

Where they shall rest for ever.-Ibid., v. 3.

The above speech is worded in just that incoherent manner which would characterise a man enraged at finding himself denounced as a villain, and conscious that he is one; while the following speech is couched in exactly such inexplicit terms, such half-expressed, half-suppressed suggestions, as serve to whet his hearer's desire to hear more:— Iago. I do beseech you—

Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,

As, I confess, it is my nature's plague

To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy

Shapes faults that are not-that your wisdom yet,

From one that so imperfectly conceits,

Would take no notice; nor build yourself a trouble

Out of his scattering and unsure observance.

It were not for your quiet nor your good,
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom,

To let you know my thoughts.—Oth., iii. 3.

A remarkable instance of a speech overlaid with confusing casuistical intervolvments and specious argumentation, for the purpose of sophistically perplexing the mind of the person addressed, is cited at

full under our heading of REPEATED WORDS. It is the speech beginning thus:

So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith; &c.—John, iii. 1.

Shakespeare puts a riddling speech of purposedly obscure expression into the Danish prince's mouth, where he is seeking to puzzle and mislead the two courtierly spies, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern :—

Rosencrantz. My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king. Hamlet. The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body. The king is a thing

Guildenstern. A thing, my lord!

Hamlet. Of nothing: bring me to him.-Hamlet, iv. 2.

Our interpretation of the above riddle is-Materiality and corporeal grossness characterise the king; but the king has no real or virtuous substance, no genuine matter in him: he is a thing of naught, a mere worthless nonentity."

Here come I from my princely general

To know your griefs; to tell you from his grace,
That he will give you audience; and wherein
It shall appear that your demands are just,

You shall enjoy them-everything set off

That might so much as think you enemies.-2 H. IV., iv. 1.

The concluding phrase of the last-cited speech is so ambiguously expressed as to bear several interpretations; therein precisely serving the purpose of the speaker. It may mean 'everything set apart, cast out, thrown forth, acquitted, excluded, or excepted, that might so much as cause you to be thought enemies'; or may mean, 'everything counterbalanced, rendered account for, or yielded retribution for, that might so much as cause you to be thought enemies.'

Romeo. Alas! that love, whose view is muffled still,
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!

Where shall we dine? Oh, me !

What fray was here?

Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.

Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.-R. & Jul., i. 1.

The two sentences we have italicised in the above-quoted passage are spoken by Romeo in enigmatical fashion, according to his then mood. The first sentence comprises double meaning; and signifies not only, 'Alas! that the blind god should be able to shoot so surely!' but also, Alas! that love, notwithstanding its muffled sight, should be able blindfold to find its way to its object!'

The second sentence also includes two meanings; that the fray has much to do with the hate between the rival houses, yet affects him more, inasmuch as his Rosaline is a member of the Capulet family;* and likewise that while the fray exhibits the animosity which divides the two factions, it at the same time denotes the anxious affection felt on his account by his father and by his friend Benvolio.

Antony. You do mistake your business; my brother never
Did urge me in his act; I did inquire it;

And have my learning from some true reports,

That drew their swords with you.

Discredit my authority with yours;

Did he not rather

This point is traceable from the list of guests invited to Capulet's ball.

And make the wars alike against my stomach,
Having alike your cause? Of this my letters
Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel,
As matter whole you have to make it with,

It must not be with this.-Ant. & C., ii. 2.

The concluding sentence means, 'If you wish to botch up a quarrel, as you have whole and sound matter to make it good with, you must not use such flimsy stuff as this.' The speaker purposely uses equivocal phraseology here; Antony allowing Cæsar to understand either. If you desire to pick a quarrel with me, you could find stronger ground for basing it upon than these frivolous causes of complaint,' or, 'If you wish to make up the quarrel between us, you have better means of doing so than by ripping up these trivial grievances.'

Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as you, oh, the dearest of creatures, would even renew me with your eyes. -Cym., iii. 2 (Letter).

The phraseology of this sentence is purposely obscure and enigmatical, and conveys a double idea. One is intended by the writer of the letter to be obvious to the person addressed his wife; 'could not so cruelly wound but that the sight of you could cure and revive me!' the other is perceptible to the reader of the play; 'could not be so cruel to me as you have been' [in the supposed wrong that Imogen has done Posthumus].

In the last-cited passage, and in the one from "Romeo and Juliet," where the heroine says, "I never shall be satisfied with Romeo, till I behold him-dead-is my poor heart," &c., there are instances of ambiguous or duplicate meaning given to a sentence by peculiar or wrong punctuation; so in the following passage, a similar effect is similarly produced :

Prologue. If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider, then, we come but in despite.

We do not come as minding to content you,
Our true intent is.

We are not here.

All for your delight,

That you should here repent you,

The actors are at hand; and, by their show,

You shall know all, that you are like to know.-Mid. N. D., v. I.

In the following passage, Shakespeare has given us a specimen of a speech, humorously obscure and confused; where the speaker gets bewildered and entangled in an attempt at lucid explanation :

Bardolph. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife. Shallow. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said indeed too. Better accommodated! it is good; yea, indeed is it: good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated! it comes of accommodo: very good; a good phrase. Bardolph. Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase, call you it? By this good day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldierlike word, and a word of exceeding good command, by heaven. Accommodated; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated; or, when a man is-beingwhereby he may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.2 H. IV., iii. 2.