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Updated: August 29, 2024


It is the one which is sometimes called in books on economics the case of an unique monopoly. Suppose that I offer for sale the manuscript of the Pickwick Papers, or Shakespere's skull, or, for the matter of that, the skull of John Smith, what is the sum that I shall receive for it? It is the utmost that any one is willing to give for it. That is all one can say about it.

"Then there are some pretty ones of Will Shakespere's." "This is what I like," began Primrose. "Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde." She sang it with deep and true feeling, Lovelace's immortal song. And she moved them all by her rendering of the last two lines in her proud young voice "I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more."

His creations are statuesquely moulded like Goethe's, but they have the same quick music of heart-throbs that Shakespere's have. Hawthorne is at the same moment ancient and modern, plastic and picturesque. Another generation will see more of him than we do; different interpreters will reveal other sides.

"'And Shakespere, she added. 'Don't you like Shakespere's plays?... We had ever so much about Shakespere. Weren't you perfectly astonished when you found out how many other plays there were of his? I always thought there was nothing but "Hamlet," and "Romeo and Juliet," and "Macbeth," and "Richard III.," and "King Lear," and that one that Robson and Crane have oh, yes, "Comedy of Errors!""

And there is he with his eternal puns, Which beat the dullest brain for smiles, like duns Thundering for money at a poet's door; Alas! it is no use to say, "I'm poor!" Or oft in graver mood, when he will look Things wiser than were ever read in book, Except in Shakespere's wisest tenderness.

What history becomes under the full sway of the imagination may be seen in the "History of the French Revolution," by Thomas Carlyle, at once a true picture, a philosophical revelation, a noble poem. There is a wonderful passage about Time in Shakespere's "Rape of Lucrece," which shows how he understood history.

She walked a few steps up the bank, and then suddenly ran back to snuggle again in her lover's arms. "Another, my prince ... the last." Day was breaking, announced not by the song of the lark, as in the garden of Shakespere's lovers at Verona, but by the sound of carts, creaking over country roads in the distance, and by a languid, sleepy melody of an orchard boy.

M. conjectures that this was a certain Harald, the bastard son of Erik the Good, and a wild and dissolute man, who died in 1135, not long before the probable date of Saxo's birth. Shakespere's tragedy, "Hamlet", is derived from this story.

For the music box and Shakespere's skull and the corner in wheat are all merely different kinds of examples of the things called a monopoly sale. Now let us change the example a little further. Suppose that the monopolist has for sale not simply a fixed and definite quantity of a certain article, but something which he can produce in larger quantities as desired. At what price will he now sell?

In full instance we would refer our readers to Shakespere's historical plays; and, as a side-illustration, to the fact that he repeatedly represents his greatest characters, when at the point of death, as relieving their overcharged minds by prophecy.

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