accepting the existence of unconscious ideas, the existence of an unconscious consciousness seems to me even more objectionable. (263)
Freud then observes: ‘The other objection that may probably be raised would be that we apply to normal psychology conclusions which are drawn chiefly from the study of pathological conditions’ (263). The play of the likely (‘objections which are likely to be raised’) and the probably (‘The other objection that may probably be raised’) takes on a new strangeness for me. His ‘likely’ is ‘Not likely!’; his ‘probably’ a resounding
Theseus owes his own existence to Shakespeare's use of classical sources or, as it were, ‘antique fables’. The words with which the last act of the play gets under way should therefore be understood ironically, such that the antique fables that give to Theseus his existence are placed on a par with these fairy toys from which Robin Goodfellow and his aliases and compatriots are drawn. Their local habitation and their names are not the products of the poet's pen; instead, they derive from the audience's own local habitation and the names they give to the ‘bugs’, as Scot
the screaming body, a scream never before heard in the City of Oran. Everything stops now. The girl has finished screaming. Her body cut in two through its middle wrapped in the veil falls like a stone to the ground of the square to the relief of the spectators. A dreadful feeling of release runs through me [ Un affreux sentiment de délivrance me perce ]. My existence has been cut in two. It is from having seen and looked at the torture that no human being should have to see, that no human being should turn away from, riveted as we were in the little carriages, the
of the real and its double. It takes place when the deceptive double is momentarily mistaken for its real counterpart, which is displaced, put aside.
Etymologically, super-natural means that another world is situated ‘above’ or ‘upon’ the natural one in reference to which it is defined. The supernatural is defined as the co-existence of two worlds and their interplay, as can be seen in the plays in this corpus , where dramatic power derives from the interaction of human characters with ghosts, witches, fairies
pleasure that inheres in that limitation. It is appropriate that the object of the faun’s amusement is a body, that it should be the flesh that intervenes between perception and higher meaning (and that the sexual body in particular should epitomise the stripping away of worldly pretension), but also that the very thing circumscribing his vision is also the source of that vision’s pleasure.
This circumscribing, pleasure-giving body is also the body of the text. As early modern moralists were well aware, fiction, like humour, depends for its existence upon temporality
by what chance any brain could stumble!)—for it be eternal as you would seem to conceive of it, eternity and chance are things insufferable together. (359–60)
This is an articulation of the cosmological (or ‘first cause’) argument for the existence of God, which is expressed most famously in the Summa Theologica of St Thomas Aquinas. It also appears in Aristotle, whose philosophy Aquinas sought to reconcile with Christian theology. 51 This leads onto a denial of chance, which ‘could never make all things of nothing’, or give rise to ‘perfect order
Yet paradoxically, ghosts also evidence life after death, as well as ongoing surveillance of the space of the living by the dead. All of the ghosts in Shakespeare's plays evidence knowledge of what is going on in the living world and purport to intervene in direct or indirect ways; they are able to effect tangible results despite their ephemeral nature, often through affecting the mind of the witness.
A key question that critics have asked of Shakespeare's ghosts is whether they have an independent existence or are the
Parthenophe delivers the same message as a spiritual sonnet
sequence such as A Divine Centurie of Spirituall
Sonnets by using irony, however, has its limits. 23 The
unquestionably edifying ending of the sequence does not prevent the
existence of blatantly erotic poems such as madrigals 12, 13 or 26.
I believe that such moral ambiguity is fundamental to the sonnet
The Merchant of Venice, Measure for Measure, Twelfth Night
debts, thereby eliciting this moral from the fair-minded Turkish judge: ‘Jews seek to excel in Christianity, and Christians in Jewishness.’ 13 In this virtual reduction of the three religions to the same moral plane, The Three Ladies foreshadows, in a lower key, a far more prominent precursor of The Merchant of Venice , Marlowe’s The Jew of Malta ( c. 1590), in which the trans-sectarian practice of villainy precludes the serious exploration of spiritual issues that is encouraged by Shakespeare’s play.
What remains pertinent here is the existence for
state or condition; from existence; into extinction or termination (in most cases gradual); to death, to an end, to nothing’. This is where we should perhaps note the consonance with what ‘Writing Blind’ calls a ‘slowness inside the speed’: ‘In language I like and I practise the leap and the short-cut, ellipsis, amphibology, speed and slowness, asyndeton’ (144). ‘Away’ at once gradual and terminal, strange supplement: not simply ‘fade’ but ‘fade away’.
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,