The fertility of Shakespear’s vein betrays him frequently into this error. There is the same impropriety in another simile of his:
Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the parlour;
There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice;
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula
Walk in the orchard, and our whole discourse
Is all of her; say, that thou overheard’st us:
And bid her steal into the pleached bower,
Where honeysuckles, ripen’d by the sun,
Forbid the sun to enter; like to favourites,
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride
Against that power that bred it.
Much ado about nothing, act 3. sc. 1.
Rooted grief, deep anguish, terror, remorse, despair, and all the severe dispiriting passions, are declared enemies, perhaps not to figurative language in general, but undoubtedly to the pomp and solemnity of comparison. Upon this account the simile pronounced by young Rutland under terror of death from an inveterate enemy, and praying mercy, is unnatural:
So looks the pent-up lion o’er the wretch
That trembles under his devouring paws;
And so he walks insulting o’er his prey,
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
And not with such a cruel threat’ning look.
Third part Henry VI. act 1. sc. 5.
Nothing appears more out of place, or more aukwardly introduced, than the following simile.
Lucia.————Farewell, my Portius,
Farewell, though death is in the word, for-ever!
Portius. Stay, Lucia, stay; what dost thou say, for-ever?
Lucia. Have I not sworn? If, Portius, thy success
Must throw thy brother on his fate, farewell:
Oh, how shall I repeat the word for-ever!
Portius. Thus, o’er the dying lamp th’ unsteady flame
Hangs quivering on a point, leaps off by fits,
And falls again, as loath to quit its hold.
—— Thou must not go, my soul still hovers o’er thee,
And can’t get loose.
Cato, act 3. sc. 2.
Nor doth the simile which closes the first act of the same tragedy, make its appearance with a much better grace; the situation there represented, being too dispiriting for a simile. A simile is improper for one who dreads the discovery of a secret machination.