he gave her the letter to deliver to me. But to see the means that Rosina made unto me-for so was she called-the dutiful services and unwonted circumstances before she did deliver it, the oaths that she sware unto me, and the subtle words and serious protestations she used, it was a pleasant thing, and worthy the noting. To whom, nevertheless, with an angry countenance I turned again, saying, If I had not regard of mine own estate, and what hereafter might be said, I would make this shameless face of thine be known ever after for a mark of an impudent and bold minion; but because it is the first time, let this suffice that I have said, and give thee warning to take heed of the second.

"Methinks I see now the crafty wench, how she held her peace, dissembling very cunningly the sorrow that she conceived by my angry answer, for she feigned a counterfeit smiling, saying, Jesus! mistress, I gave it you, because you might laugh at it, and not to move your patience with it in this sort; for if I had any thought that it would have provoked you to anger, I pray God he may show his wrath as great towards me as ever he did to the daughter of any mother. And with this she added many words more, as she could do well enough, to pacify the feigned anger and ill opinion that I had conceived of her, and taking her letter with her, she departed from me. This having passed thus, I began to imagine what might ensue thereof, and love, methought, did put a certain desire into my mind to see the letter, though modesty and shame forbade me to ask it of my maid, especially for the words that had passed between us, as you have heard. And so I continued all that day until night in variety of many thoughts; but when Rosina came to help me to bed, God knows how desirous I was to have her entreat me again to take the letter, but she would never speak unto me about it, nor (as it seemed) did so much as once think thereof. Yet to try if by giving her some occasion I might prevail, I said unto her: And is it so, Rosina, that Don Felix, without any regard to mine honour, dares write unto me? These are things, mistress, said she demurely to me again, that are commonly incident to love; whereof I beseech you pardon me, for if I had thought to have angered you with it, I would have first pulled out the balls of mine eyes. How cold my heart was at that blow, God knows, yet did I dissemble the matter, and suffer myself to remain that night only with my desire, and with occasion of little sleep. And so it was, indeed, for that, methought, was the longest and most painful night that ever I passed. But when, with a slower pace than I desired, the wished day was come, the discreet and subtle Rosina came into my chamber to

I

help me to make me ready, in doing whereof of purpose she let the letter closely (secretly) fall, which, when I perceived-What is that that fell down? said I; let me see it. It is nothing, mistress, said she. Come, come, let me see it, said I. What! move me not, or else tell me what it is. Good Lord, mistress, said she, why will you see it: it is the letter I would have given you yesterday. Nay, that it is not, said I: wherefore show it me, that I may see if you lie or no. I had no sooner said so, but she put it into my hands, saying, God never give me good if it be any other thing; and although I knew it well indeed, yet I said, What? this is not the same, for I know that well enough, but it is one of thy lover's letters: I will read it, to see in what need he standeth of thy favour."

It is by no means impossible that the "Two Gentlemen of Verona," as we now possess it, has received additions from its author's hands to what was perhaps originally a very meagre production. This conjecture would well agree with what we know to have been the dramatic usage of the time; and it seems difficult to account on any other supposition for the use Shakespeare has made of the tale of Felismena. absolute origin of the entire plot has possibly to be discovered in some Italian novel. The error in the first folio of Padua for Milan, in act ii., sc. 5, has perhaps to be referred to some scene in the original tale.

The

Should the original novel, supposing one to exist, ever be discovered, it will probably be found to assimilate more to the ancient tales of perfect friendship than might be suspected from Shakespeare's play. In venturing upon this conjecture, I have been guided in a great measure by the romantic generosity of Valentine in the last act, which scarcely looks like a free result of the poet's own invention. It is quite true he might have found similar instances in several old friendship tales, but it seems more natural to suppose that he transferred it from the same source to which we are indebted for the play, than that the incident was introduced from another copy. That any editor can have a doubt as to Shakespeare's intention to represent Valentine's generosity so great, that, in the excess of his rapture for the repentance of Proteus, he gives up to him all his right in Silvia, would be improbable, had we not two late instances of attempts to explain the scene in a different manner; but any interpretation which destroys the literal meaning of Valentine's gift

"And that my love may appear plain and free,

All that was mine in Silvia I give thee—

renders Julia's exclamation-"O me unhappy!"-which immediately follows, entirely unmeaning. Mr. Collier thinks Valentine suspected Silvia's purity from her position with Proteus in the forest, and is therefore giving his friend a present no longer desirable to himself; but, if this supposition were adopted, it would completely destroy the poetry and romance of Valentine's character.

XIV. PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE.

The English critics who either altogether deny Shakespeare's authorship of this piece, or attribute to him a very small portion of it, ascribe the great approbation' which it has received from its first introduction upon the English boards to the great interest of the story upon which it is founded: and this certainly not without reason; for even if we consider Shakespeare as the author, still it is one of his earliest and weakest works, and this immoderate approbation can hardly be otherwise explained. Even the fact that the poet kept so close to his original shows his respect for it, if only on account of its popularity.

The romance of "Apollonius" has been translated into all languages; and the great number of manuscripts, editions, and imitations of it, which are found among all nations, justify the opinion of its internal value.

The labours of such distinguished writers as Velser, Fabricius, Douce, and others, have not been successful hitherto in discovering the author of this romance, but all

1 There scarcely appears to be sufficient authority for this assertion. The poems and epigrams in which the play is mentioned seem to be somewhat contradictory on this point. Mr. Knight has collected them in an interesting paper at the close of his edition of the play. The difficulty is to decide whether it is insinuated that the drama was not well received, or that it is a bad production of the author. Flecknoe's epigram would seem to imply that it met with success far beyond its merits; but this testimony, which is clearer than any of the others produced by the commentators, is the only one omitted by Mr. Knight.—ED.

agree that it was written in the fifth or sixth century after Christ, and in Greek. Godfrey of Viterbo seems to have considered it as a portion of real history, for he relates it at full length, in his "Pantheon, or Universal Chronicle," as an event which happened under the rule of the third Antiochus. The form of the versified representation is curious; two rhyming hexameters are separated by a pentameter. The Latin prose versions appear to have been taken, partly from Godfrey's relation, partly from the Greek original: one of these is to be found in the Gesta Romanorum. Velser printed another without knowing this; and a third appeared in a separate form, without date or place, in the latter part of the fifteenth century. These three forms of the story differ from one another in words, not in incidents; but Eschenburg considers the first to be the model of the two others. An old German poem of Apollonius von Tyrland, by Heinrich von der Neuenstadt (at Vienna), was already extant in 1400; probably founded upon the story in the Gesta Romanorum: compare Hagen's and Büsching's Sketches, 206. The later variations in German prose, which were for a long time favourite popular books, appear to have been derived from Godfrey of Viterbo's Pantheon; at least, this source is assigned for the edition of Augsburg, printed in the year 1471, and that of Strasburg, small quarto, 1516 (according to Eschenburg's specimens, a very corrupt form of the story). That of 1556 in 12mo., of which we have made use, appears more correct. We have faithfully translated from it Tharsien's lied, evidently an old Meister leid, with its two parts (the aufgesang and abgesang-the aufgesang falls into two, the abgesang into three artificially rhymed stanzas), but we could do this only with the first strophe of the poem, as the second, singularly enough, proceeds with the story, which seems to confirm our supposition that an old Meister song has been interpolated. We considered ourselves under the necessity of taking greater liberty with the riddles, which