In my continuing quest to try to understand the principles that guided Shakespeare's writing, I've noticed this: With every appearance of a character, there is always change and/or growth in his or her thinking. It can happen between scenes or even between plays, but never does the audience feel that there is repetitiveness in terms of psychological content. I'd better use an example. At the end of Julius Caesar (5.5), Antony gives his famous speech at the death of Brutus, wherein he contrasts his character with those of the other conspirators:

This was the noblest Roman of them all:

All the conspirators save only he

Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;

He only, in a general honest thought

And common good to all, made one of them.

His life was gentle, and the elements

So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up

And say to all the world 'This was a man!'

OK, in the sequel (of sorts), Antony and Cleopatra, Antony mentions Brutus only once. In this scene (3.11), he realizes that his own defeat is approaching, and he is bitterly slighting the leader who is ascendant, Octavius, as a poor soldier who did little to defeat the Republican forces at the battle of Philippi, and doesn't deserve his power:

... he at Philippi kept

His sword e'en like a dancer; while I struck

The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I

That the mad Brutus ended: he alone

Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practise had

In the brave squares of war: yet now--No matter.

What is it that brought about Antony's change in attitude toward Brutus? The audience is left with work to do, a gap to fill. There are many examples of this type of thing in Shakespeare. As always, thought is provoked.