admits freely of the slow concrete; and the voice after being restrained to the discrete skip on the preceding imutable sylables, more freely and with graceful contrast asumes on this word the intonation of a concrete, or continuous, rise. In the winter of 1877, I enjoyed the privilege and delight of hearing Mr. Murdoch read the principal scenes of Hamlet, as part of an evening's programme; and the stupendous Graveyard Scene was never more impressively rendered. Having in mind the views of Doctor Rush, I listened with both ears for the reading of the second line of the quotation. When the familiar 'Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast?' came from the Master's lips, I heard the wide rising skips,of the octave, clearly, as designated by Rush,-but not in the crude seesaw order described by him: the octaves themselves were so varied in their pitch that no two of the three emphatic words had the same radical level. The degree of variation was not great, but greatly different from sameness. Another, and the superlative, vital difference, lay in the fact that the concretes of 'weep?-fight?-fast?' were abrupt, vivid, and sharply stressed falling slides. Instead of exasperated question, the three clauses were arrogant, tempestuous imperatives. In a rapture of surprise-of joyous recognition and acceptance-I shook hands with myself, and inwardly said, 'Yes! of course, that's the way Hamlet felt!' 'Tear-drink up Esil-eat-crocodile,' were duly given with strong rising concretes; not only indicating a change of motive, a very probable change, but making a beautiful and striking contrast with the vehement challenge of the first three clauses, as well as with the immediately ensuing imperious 'I'll do't.' 6. 'HATH A DOG MONEY?' Two Readings. (/)✓Hath a -✓dŏg -✓mŏney? Is it possible -VA cur -✓should lěnd (/)-✓three -✓thousand -✓dŭcats? (/)/Hath a -✓dŏg -√money? Is it possible thousand -✓dŭcats? The first notation represents the melodic scheme followed by most actors of Shylock. Both questions are in a drift of unequal rising-wave sweeps; the second question being made vocally the stronger by means of its greater number of closely sequent emphatic words, and, usually, by larger force and volume and wider range of pitch. The mood is that of ironical, scornful, incredulous inquiry. The two questions present the same thought, the second being an expanded paraphrase of the first; but, as it seems to me, there is a decided change in Shylock's attitude. In the first sentence, 'dog' and 'money' are general terms: 'dog' covers the whole canine kingdom, the prized and the despised; and 'money' includes all sums and every medium of exchange. But the second sentence is specific and personal. 'Cur' makes of 'dog' a pariah, an outcast, and recalls the 'stranger cur' of a few lines before; and 'three thousand ducats' is the exact sum in negotiation. The introductory 'Is it possible', too, confirms my belief that Shylock shifts from scornful incredulity in the first question to scornful, vehement denial and refusal in the second. By giving wide falling-wave contours to 'Is it possible' and 'A cur', the rising constituent, in each case, consisting chiefly of a wide rising skip to the radical of the emphatic word 'possible' being a wide falling sweep and 'cur' a wide falling slide, the question is self-answered in the negative, while resentment and denial are strongly expressed by the descent on 'cur.' As notated in both cases, the second question ends with a succession of overlapping rising-wave sweeps, constituting in the aggregate an interrogative rising sweep: but the sentence would be well read, if, as a whole, this terminal series were given as a wide falling sweep, made up of overlapping falling sweeps. 7. THREE IN ONE. Do you insist upon im- -/pósing this se- -/věre -/táx, that you ac--/knówledge to be un- -/júst and néedless? The thing insisted upon and the thing acknowledged, are directly opposed to each other. The above reading coordinates the principal and the relative clause in melody; the opposition of ideas is not vocally set forth, further than the bare pronunciation of the words. The questioner seems to recognize the inconsistency as a fact, and really expresses but his own bewilderment and surprise. Do you in- -/sist upon im- -/posing this se- -/věre that you acknowledge tò bè ùn- -/júst and néed -/táx, less? Asked in this form, the question is still a question of surprise and bewilderment as to the action proposed, while the inconsistency is sharply pointed out, by the exclamatory and assertive intonation of 'that you acknowledge to be un-'. The acknowledgment is asserted vocally, and the inconsistency is shown; but the terminal upward sweep makes the assertion only incidental to the question, an assertion thrown in by the way, being bounded on either hand by the strong direct interrogative melody. /Do you in- -/sist upon im- -/posing this se- -/věre -/táx, that you acknowledge tò bè ùnjùst ànd nèedlèss? In this mode of asking, the question is confined to the action proposed, and the relative clause, by 'the turn of the voice' becomes accusation, protest, and rebuke. Various blends and degrees of surprise, indignation, sorrow, anger, irony, and scorn may be given to the sentence. AN EXAMPLE OF FIGURATIVE' QUESTION. In JuliusCæsar, II., ii., Cassius assails Brutus with,- Judge me, you gods! Wrong I mine enemies? In Brutus's first question, the direct-interrogative verbal form and the mental attitude are at antipodes: the words express ignorance and a desire to know, while the mind is conscious of perfect rectitude, and the feelings utterly deny and repel Cassius's charge. Paradoxically, the weakest syntactical formula is employed to convey a strong mental and emotional state; the negative is used to express the positive. The voice reveals the real meaning, and transmutes the question into triumphant, lofty denial, by intonation, thus: Judge mè, yoù gòds! Wrong I mine ènèmies? In the second line, if we take the view that Brutus's attitude is that of perfect assurance, that he regards the concluding clause as self-evident, the intonation should move in wide contours of the rising wave, twice repeated, with an inflective echo of the melody on 'brother', thus: \Ànd ìf nòt +só, +\hòw shoùld Ì wròng à +bròthér? 9. FROM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Shakespeare. A teacher of English literature, a lady, once consulted me upon the reading of the last clause above. Her class of young ladies were divided in opinion: some thought that in this place, 'become' means 'befit--are congruous withare suitable to'; and others that it means 'pass from one state into another.' The first interpretation is right, of course; and the melody of the last line is referential: (~~)~Become the touches of sweet harmony. The other interpretation would require the plain diatonic melody, with the meaning culminating in the phrase 'sweet harmony'; the latter word receiving distinctive emphasis and the full cadence. 10. FROM HAMLET. Shakespeare. O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature At another time, the same lady brought me the above passage, with "tis an unweeded garden, that grows to seed,' as the crux. The reading she felt inclined to adopt, was, 'Tis an unweeded garden, -that grows to seed; with 'unweeded' strongly emphasized, and the relative clause run off lightly, preceded by little or no grouping pause, as if the clause were closely restrictive; so that the meaning was, 'Only an unweeded garden grows to seed'; or, 'The garden that grows to seed is unweeded'; or, 'If a garden grows to seed, it is because it is left unweeded.' Hamlet, however, is not trying to formulate a horticultural maxim, and one untrue on the face of it, but is restating in metaphor the thought and feeling of the pre |