to. When I shrieked I could only echo the notes of the rhythm. At last,
with a movement of uncontrollable frenzy I broke back to consciousness
and awoke.

I dragged myself trembling to the window of the cottage and looked out.
The moon was glittering across the bay and there was no sound anywhere on
the island.'




XIII


In all drama which would give direct expression to reverie, to the speech
of the soul with itself, there is some device that checks the rapidity of
dialogue. When Oedipus speaks out of the most vehement passions, he is
conscious of the presence of the chorus, men before whom he must keep up
appearances 'children latest born of Cadmus' line' who do not share his
passion. Nobody is hurried or breathless. We listen to reports and
discuss them, taking part as it were in a council of state. Nothing
happens before our eyes. The dignity of Greek drama, and in a lesser
degree of that of Corneille and Racine depends, as contrasted with the
troubled life of Shakespearean drama, on an almost even speed of
dialogue, and on a so continuous exclusion of the animation of common
life, that thought remains lofty and language rich. Shakespeare, upon
whose stage everything may happen, even the blinding of Gloster, and who
has no formal check except what is implied in the slow, elaborate
structure of blank verse, obtains time for reverie by an often
encumbering Euphuism, and by such a loosening of his plot as will give