Later, when her dream has ceased And she softly stirs and
wakes, Then it is as when the East A sudden rosy magic takes From the
cloud-enfolded sun, And full day breaks!
Shakespeare, who has done so much to discourage literature by
anticipating everybody, puts the whole matter into a nutshell:
But soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and
Juliet is the sun.
THERE is a phrase spoken by Hamlet which I have seen quoted innumerable
times, and never once correctly. Hamlet, addressing Horatio, says:
Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my
heart's core, ay, in my _heart of heart_.
The words italicized are invariably written "heart of hearts"--as if a
person possessed that organ in duplicate. Perhaps no one living, with
the exception of Sir Henry Irving, is more familiar with the play of
Hamlet than my good friend Mr. Bram Stoker, who makes his heart plural
on two occasions in his recent novel, "The Mystery of the Sea." Mrs.
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