Those commentators who have deemed it a duty to vindicate their author at all points and at all hazards, have not failed to repel this strong charge with characteristic earnestness. The great German critic Schlegel, for example, speaking on this subject, offers the following defense, if defense it can be called: “Shakspeare, who was always sure of his object, to move in a sufficiently powerful manner when he chose to do so, has occasionally, by indulging in a freer play, purposely moderated the impressions when too powerful, and immediately introduced a musical alleviation of our sympathy.” That is to say: Shakspeare, fearing that evil consequences might result from the overwrought sympathies of his auditors, mercifully threw in a quibble here and there to check the dangerous flow of sentiment! as if Paganini or Ole Bull had deemed it necessary to introduce an occasional jar in the midst of their most exquisite strains, lest the sensitive ear should be too powerfully ravished. But this defense is still more injurious than the charge itself; inasmuch as it substitutes for that oblivion of self, that apparent unconsciousness of the great things he was doing, which has been regarded as the highest proof of the serene majesty of his mind, an intolerable arrogance and presumption. Shakspeare, however, we may be sure, was governed by no such motive; he had no apprehension that his nectar would prove too intoxicating, and took no such pains to adulterate and weaken it. The charge referred to is, in truth, applicable, in any great degree, to but a small number of his plays, “The Two Gentlemen of Verona” is one of these, and “Romeo and Juliet” is another, and the chief one. I shall confine my remarks at present to the latter play; and here, it must be confessed, quibbles are introduced into almost every speech: not only the wit, but the sentiment also is every where seasoned with them; and the different personages, “however distressed, have a conceit left them in their misery, a miserable conceit.” Now this feature, though not peculiar to Romeo and Juliet, is not found in any of the other great tragedies of Shakspeare, it cannot therefore be ascribed to inveterate habit. Neither is any trace of it found in the poem from which the main story, and many of the details and expressions of the play were copied: it was not therefore imitated from his original. The doctrine of Ulrici, however, affords a rational explanation. Quibbles and conceits are a part of the argument of the play, and therefore they are introduced. If they mar its beauties, they help to illustrate its theme, and to this purpose every other consideration is subordinate: for Shakspeare is not content, like other poets with simply moving his readers; but is careful also to cause all the currents of all the emotions he awakens to flow toward a common centre.