s
endlessly-varying musical form. The total character is accordingly
self-lawed, irrepressible creation.

Blank verse, then, is the predominating musical form of Shakspeare's
comedies, histories, and tragedies. To such a degree as that _all_ the
other forms often slip from one's recollection; and, to speak strictly,
blank verse must be called the rule; while all other forms are diverse
exceptions.

Only one comedy, the homely and English "Merry Wives of Windsor," has,
for its rule, prose. Even here the two true lovers hold their few short
colloquies in blank verse. And when the concluding fairy masque is
toward, blank verse rages. Page and Ford catch it. The merry wife, Mrs
Page, turns poetess to describe and project the superstitions to be
used. In the fairy-scene Sir John himself, Shakspeare's most dogged
observer of prose, is quelled by the spirit of the hour, and RHYMES. You
would think that the soul of Shakspeare has been held chained through
the play, and breaks loose for a moment ere ending it. All this being
said, it may be asked:--"Why is blank verse the ordinary musical form of
Shakspeare's Dramas?" And the obvious answer appears to be:--"Because it
has a _middle removedness_ or _estrangement_ from the ordinary speech of
men:--raising the language into imagination, and yet not out of
sympathy."

Shakspeare and Sophocles agree in truth and strength, in life, passion,
and imagination. They differ inwardly herein--Shakspeare founds in the
power of nature. Under his hand nature brings forth art. The Attic
tragedy begins from art. Its first condition is order, since it is part
of a religious ceremonial. It resorts to nature, to quicken, strengthen,
bear up art. Nature enters upon the Athenian stage, under a previous
recognition of art as dominant.

From all that has been now said--and it is more than we at first
intended to say--this conclusion follows, that there may be English
rhymed dramas. There are French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian ones--and
fine ones too; and nothing in nature forbids that there may be
infinitely finer. That which universally affects off the stage, in all
kinds of poetry, would, in the work of a great master, affect on it. The
delusion of the theatre overcomes far greater difficulties carried with
us thither in the constitution of our habitual life, than the use of
rhyme by the visionary beings in the mimic scene. Beyond all doubt there
might arise in rhyme a most beautiful romantic d