"Solemn" music is generally played off stage. It comes, that is, from an invisible source which makes it impossible for those on stage to express a
On some occasions, e.g., in the vision of Posthumus
Give me thy hand,
Thou hast been righdy honest; so hast thou;
Thou—and thou-—and thou; you have serv'd me well.
Perchance to-morrow
You'll serve another master. I look on you As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends, I turn you not away; but like a master Married to your good service, stay till death: Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more, And the gods yield you for't.
We already know that Enobarbus, who is present, has decided to desert Antony. Now follows the scene with the common soldiers in which supernatural music announces that
The god Hercules whom Antony lov'd Now leaves him.
The effect of this is to make us see the human characters, Octavius, Antony, Cleopatra, Enobarbus, as agents of powers greater than they. Their personalities and actions, moral or immoral, carry out the purposes of these powers but cannot change them. Octavius' self-confidence and Antony's sense of doom are justified though they do not know why.
But in the ensuing five scenes it appears that they were both mistaken, for it is Antony who wins the batde. Neither Octavius nor Antony have heard the music, but we, the audience, have, and our knowledge that Antony must lose in the end gives a pathos to his temporary triumph which would be lacking if the invisible music were cut.
Of the instances of mundane or carnal instrumental music in the plays, the most interesting are those in which it is, as it were, the wrong kind of magic. Those who like it and call for it use it to strengthen their illusions about themselves.
So Timon uses it when he gives his great banquet. Music stands for the imaginary world Timon is trying to live in, where everybody loves everybody and he stands at the center as the source of this universal love.
timon: Music, make their welcome!
first lord: You see, my lord, how ample y'are beloved.
One of his guests is the professional sneerer, Apemantus, whose conceit is that he is the only one who sees the world as it really is, as the absolutely unmusical place where nobody loves anybody but himself. "Nay," says Timon to him, "an you begin to rail on society once, I am swom not to give regard to you. Farewell, and come with better music."
But Timon is never to hear music again after this scene.
Neither Timon nor Apemantus have music in their souls but, while Apemantus is shamelessly proud of this, Timon wants desperately to believe that he has music in his soul, and the discovery that he has not destroys him.
To Falstaff, music, like sack, is an aid to sustaining the illusion of living in an Eden of childlike innocence where nothing serious can happen. Unlike Timon, who does not love others as much as he likes to think, Falstaff himself really is loving. His chief illusion is that Prince Hal loves him as much as he loves Prince Hal and that Prince Hal is an innocent child like himself.
Shakespeare reserves the use of a musical background for the scene between Falstaff, Doll, Poinz, and Hal (
By heaven, Poinz, I feel me much to blame
So idly to profane the present time. . . .