Though, as I have already implied, the characterization is here quite secondary and subordinate, yet the play probably has as much of character as were compatible with so much of poetry.  Theseus has been well described as a classic personage with romantic features and expression.  The name is Greek, but the nature and spirit are essentially Gothic.  Nor does the abundance of classical allusion and imagery in the story call for any qualification here; because whatsoever is taken is thoroughly steeped in the efficacy of the taker.  This sort of anachronism, common to all modern writers before and during the age of Shakespeare, seems to have arisen in part from a comparative dearth of classical learning, which left men to contemplate the heroes of antiquity under the forms into which their own mind and manners had been cast.  Thus their delineations became informed with the genius of romance; the condensed grace of ancient character giving way to the enlargement of chivalrous magnanimity and honour, with its “high-erected thoughts seated in the heart of courtesy.”  Such in Shakespeare’s case appears to have been the no less beautiful than natural result of the small learning, so often smiled and sometimes barked at, by those more skilled in the ancient languages than in the mother-tongue of nature.

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In the two pairs of lovers there are hardly any lines deep and firm enough to be rightly called characteristic.  Their doings, even more than those of the other human persons, are marked by the dream-like freakishness and whimsicality which distinguish the piece.  Perhaps the two ladies are slightly discriminated as individuals, in that Hermia, besides her brevity of person, is the more tart in temper, and the more pert and shrewish of speech, while Helena is of a rather milder and softer disposition, with less of confidence in herself.  So too in the case of Demetrius and Lysander the lines of individuality are exceedingly faint; the former being perhaps a shade the more caustic and spiteful, and the latter somewhat the more open and candid.  But there is really nothing of heart or soul in what any of them do:  as we see them, they are not actuated by principle at all, or even by any thing striking so deep as motive:  their conduct issues from the more superficial springs of capricious impulse and fancy, the “jugglery of the senses during the sleep of reason”; the higher forces of a mental and moral bearing having no hand in shaping their action.  For the fairy influences do not reach so far as to the proper seat of motive and principle:  they have but the skin-depth of amorous caprice; all the elements of character and all the vital springs of faith and loyalty and honour lying quite beyond their sphere.  Even here the judgment or the genius of the Poet is very perceptible; the lovers being represented from the start as acting from no forces or inspirations too deep or strong for the powers of Fairydom to overcome.  Thus the pre-condition of the two pairs in their whim-bewilderment is duly attempered to the purposed dream-play of the general action.  Nor is the seeming stanchness of Hermia and Demetrius in the outset any exception to this view; for nothing is more wilful and obstinate than amorous caprice or skin-deep love during its brief tenure of the fancy.