fully approved in that the Poet himself seasonably outgrew and forsook them; a comparison of his earlier and later plays thus showing that his manlier taste discarded them.  They were however nowise characteristic of him:  they were the fashion of the day, and were common to all the dramatic writers of the time.  Nor were they by any means confined to the walks of the Drama:  many men of the highest character and position both in Church and State were more or less infected with them.

It is not likely indeed that Shakespeare at first regarded these things as faults, or that he adopted them reluctantly in compliance with the popular bent, and as needful to success.  In his youth he doubtless used them in good faith, and even sought for them as traits of excellence; for he himself shared to the fullest extent in the redundancy of mental life which distinguished the age, and which naturally loves to sport itself in such quirks of thought and speech.  But it is manifest that he was not long in growing to distaste them, notwithstanding that he still continued occasionally to practise them.  For, even in The Merchant of Venice, which I reckon among the last in his earlier or the first in his middle style, we find him censuring the thing while indulging it: 

    “O, dear discretion, how his words are suited! 
    The fool hath planted in his memory
    An army of good words; and I do know
    A many fools, that stand in better place,
    Garnish’d like him, that for a tricksy word
    Defy the matter.”

In the case here censured, however, the thing, though a vice in itself, is no offence to good taste, and may even be justly noted as a stroke of dramatic virtue, because it is rightly characteristic of the person using it:  which only makes the reproof the more pointed as aimed at the habit, then but too common in the high places of learning, of so twisting language into puns and conceits, that one could hardly come at the sense.  But I can admit no such plea, when, in King Richard the Second, the dying Gaunt goes to punning on his name: 

    “Old Gaunt indeed; and gaunt in being old: 
    Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast;
    And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt? 
    For sleeping England long time have I watch’d;
    Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt: 
    The pleasure that some fathers feed upon
    Is my strict fast,—­I mean my children’s looks;
    And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: 
    Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
    Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.”