And somewhat the same again in iii. 4: 

“No, in despite of sense and secrecy,
Unpeg the basket on the house’s top,
Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape,
To try conclusions, in the basket creep,
And break your own neck down.”

Something very like this mixing of figures occurs, also, in Timon of
Athens, iv. 3: 

                             “But myself,
    Who had the world as my confectionary;
    The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men
    At duty, more than I could frame employment;
    That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
    Do on an oak, have with one Winter’s brush
    Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
    For every storm that blows.”

And I suspect that certain passages, often faulted for confusion of metaphors, are but instances of the same thing, as this: 

                            “Blest are those
    Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled,
    That they are not a pipe for Fortune’s finger
    To sound what stop she please.”

This feature mainly results, no doubt, from the Poet’s aptness or endeavour to make his style of as highly symbolical a character as possible without smothering the sense.  And by symbolical I here mean the taking a representative part of a thing, and using it in such a way as to convey the sense and virtue of the whole.  Metaphors are the strongest and surest mode of doing this; and so keen was the Poet’s quest of this, that his similes, in the very act of forming, often become half-metaphors, as from a sort of instinct.  Thus, instead of fully forming a simile, he merely suggests it; throwing in just enough of it to start the thoughts on that track, and then condensing the whole into a semi-metaphorical shape.  Which seems to explain why it is that these suggestions of similes, notwithstanding the stereotyped censures of a too formal criticism, seldom trouble any reader who is so unsophisticated as to care little for the form, so he be sure of the substance.

* * * * *

The thoughtful student can hardly choose but feel that there is something peculiar in Shakespeare’s metaphors.  And so indeed there is.  But the peculiarity is rather in degree than kind.  Now the Metaphor, as before remarked, proceeds upon a likeness in the relations of things; whereas the Simile proceeds upon a likeness in the things themselves, which is a very different matter.  And so surpassing was Shakespeare’s quickness and acuteness of eye to discern the most hidden resemblances in the former kind, that he outdoes all other writers in the exceeding fineness of the threads upon which his metaphors are often built.  In other words, he beats all other poets, ancient and modern, in constructing metaphors upon the most subtile, delicate, and unobvious analogies.

Among the English poets, Wordsworth probably stands next to Shakespeare in the frequency, felicity, originality, and strength of his metaphorical language.  I will therefore quote a few of his most characteristic specimens, as this seems the fairest way for bringing out the unequalled virtue of Shakespeare’s poetry in this kind.