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bright misty lan.1 from whence it caule. shepherdesses. They discover or they For an instant it deluded you; let it meet with lovers who become their Buffice. It s sweet to leave the world husbands. Suddenly it is announced of realities ehind you; the mind rests that the wicked Duke Frederick, who amidst impossibilities. We are happy had usurped the crown, has just retired when delivered from the rough chains to a cloister, and restored the throne to of logic, to wander amongst strange the old exiled duke. Every one gets adventures, to live in sheei romance, married, every one dances, every thing and know that we are living there. I ends with a “rustic revelry.” Where do not try to deceive you, and make is the pleasantness of these puerilities : you believe in the world where I take First, the fact of its being puerile; the you. A nan must disbelieve it in absence of the serious is refreshing. der to enjoy it. We must give our. There are no events, and there is no selves up to illusion, and feel that we plot. We gently follow the easy cur. are giving ourselves up to it. We rent of graceful or melancholy emo must smile as we listen. We smile in tions, which takes us away and moves The Winter's Tale, when Hermione de- us about without wearying The place scends from her pedestal, and when adds to the illusion and charm. It is Leontes discovers his wife in the an autumn forest, in which the sultry statue, having believed her to be dead. rays permeate the blushing oak leaves, We smile in Cymbeline, when we see or the half-stript ashes tremble and che lone cavern in which the young smile to the feeble breath of evening princes have lived like savage hunters. The lovers wander by brooks that Improbability deprives emotions of "brawl” under antique roots. As you their sting: The events interest or listen to them, you see the slim birches, touch us without making us suffer. At whose cloak of lace grows glossy under che very moment when sympathy is the slant rays of the sun thai giids too intense, we remind ourselves that them, and the thoughts wander down it is all a fancy. They become like the mossy vistas in which their foot: distant objects, whose distance softens steps are not heard. What better their outline, and wraps them in a place could be chosen for the comedy luminous veil of blue air. Your true of sentiment and the play of heart. comedy is an opera. We listen to fancies ? Is not this a fit spot in which sentiments without thinking too much to listen to love-talk? Some one has of plot. We follow the tender or gay seen Orlando, Rosalind's lover, in this melodies without reflecting that they glade ; she hears it and blushes. “Alas interrupt the action. We dream else the day! ... What did he, when where on hearing music ; here I bid thou sawest him? What said he? you dream on hearing verse.

How looked he? Wherein went he? Then the speaker of the prologue What makes he here? Did he ask for retires, and the actors come ɔn. me? Where remains he? How parted

As you Like it is a caprice.* Action he with thee? and when shalt thou see there is none; interest barely ; 'ikeli- him again?” Then, with a lower voice, tood still less. And the whole is cnarm- somewhat hesitating : “ Looks he as ing. Two cousins, princes' daug.iters, freshly as he did the day he wresiled ? ome to a forest with a court clown, She is not yet exhausted : “Do you Celia disguised as a shepherdess, Rosa. not know I'am a woman? When I ind as a boy. They find here the old think, I must speak. Sweet, say on." duke, Rosalind's father, who, driven One question follows another, she out of his duchy, lives with his friends closes the mouth of her friend, who is like a philosopher and a hunter. They ready to answer. At every word she find amorous shepherds, who with jests, but agitated, blushing, with a songs and prayers pursue intractable forced gayety; her bosom heaves, and

her heart beats. Nevertheless she is • In English, a word is wanting to express calmer when Orlando comes; bandies the Frer.ch fantaisie used by M. Taine, in words with him; sheltered under her describing this scene: what in music is called a capriccio Tennyson calls the Princess a disguise, she makes him confess that medley, but it is ambiguous.-TR.

* As you like it, iii. 2

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he loves Rosalind. Tien she plagues | added to the jingle of the rhymes aim, like the frolic, the wag, the co- makes of a dialogue a concerto of quette she is. “Why, how now, Or- love : lando, where have you been all this

Phebe. Good Shepherd, tell this youtube while ? You a lover?” Orlando re.

what 'tis to love. peats that he loves Rosalind, and sha Silvius. It is to be all made of sighs and pleases herself by making him repeat

tears ; it more than once. She sparkles with And so am I for Phebe.

P. And I for Ganymede. nit, jests, mischievous pranks; pretty Orlando. And I for Rosalind. its of anger, feigned sulks, bursts of Rosalind. And I for no woman. ... laughter, deafening babble, engaging

S. It is to be all made of fantasy, aprices.

All made of passion, and all made of wisden, “Come, woo me, woo me; All adoration, duty, and observance, for now I am in a holiday humor, and All humbleness, all patience and iropatience, like enough to consent. What would All purity, all trial, all observance ; you say to me now, an I were your very And so I am for Phebe.

P. And so am I for Ganymede. very Rosalind ? And every now and

0. And so am I for Rosalind. then she repeats with an arch smile, R. And so am I for no woman." * " And I am your Rosalind; am I not the necessity of singing is so urgent, your Rosalind ?”*

Orlando protests that he would die. Die ! " Who ever themselves. The prose and the con.

that a minute later songs break out of thought of dying for love! Leander ?

versation end in lyric poetry.

We He took one bath too many in the Hellespont; so poets have said he died pass straight on into these odes. We for love. Troilus? A Greek broke do not find ourselves in a new country.

We feel the emotion and foolish gayety his head with a club; so poets have said he died for love. Come, come,

as if it were a holiday. We see the Rosalind will be softer. And then she graceful couple whom the song of the plays at marriage with him, and makes the misty light" o'er the green corn.

two pages brings before us, passing in Celia pronounce the solemn words. She irritates and torments her pretend field,” amid the hum of sportive in ed husband; tells him all the whims sects, on the finest day of the fowering she means to indulge in, all the pranks ural, and we are not astonished when

spring-time. Unlikelihood grows nat she will play, all the teasing he will have to endure. The retorts come one

we see Hymen leading the two brides after another like fire-works. At every bands.

by the hand to give them to their husphrase we follow the looks of these sparkling eyes, the curves of this laugh- folk talk. Their life also is a novel,

Whilst the young folks sing, the old ing mouth, the quick movements of this but a sad one. Shakspeare's delicate supple figure. It is a bird's petulance soul, bruised by the shocks of social and volubility. "O coz, coz, coz, my life, took refuge in contemplations of pretty little coz, that thou didst know how many fathom deep I am in love." solitary life. To forget the strife and Then she provokes her cousin Celia, annoyances of the world, he must bun

himself in a wide silent forest, and sports with her hair, calls her by every woman's namne. Antitheses without “ Under the shade of melancholy boughs, end, words all a-jumble, quibbles, pret

Loose and neglect the creeping hours of

time." + ty exaggerations, word-racket; as you listen, you fancy it is the warbling of a We look at the bright images while nightingale. The trill of repeated the sun carves on the white beech. metaphors, the melodious roll of the boles, the shade of trembling leaves poetical gamut, the summer-warbling Aickering on the thick moss, the long rustling under the foliage, change the waves of the summit of the trees; then piece into a veritable opera. The three the sharp sting of care is blunted .we Lovers end by chanting a sort of trio. suffer no more, simply remembering The first throws out a fancy, the others that we suffered once; we feel nothing Lake it up. Four times this strophe is but a gentle misanthropy, and being re renewed; and the symmetry of ideas, newed, we are the better for it. The oid • Armenikmit iv ,

Ibid. v. 2.

↑ Ibid. it z

.

sun,

duke is happy in his exile. Solitude | He is scandalized because Orlando has given him rest, delivered him from writes sonnets on the forest trees. Ho flattery, reconciled him to nature. He is eccentric, and finds subjects of grief pities the stags which he is obliged to and gayety, where others would sco hurt for food :

nothing of the sort : Come, shall we go and kill us venison? “A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest, And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, A motley fool; A miserable world I Being native burghers of this desert city, As I do live by food, I met a fool;. Should in their own confines with forked Who laid him down and bask'd him in this

heads Have their round haunches gored.” *

And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terman

In good set terms and yet a motley foxl. Nothing sweeter than this mixture of tencer compassion, dreamy philosophy, Jacques hearing him moralize in such de.icate sadness, poetical complaints, a manner begins to laugh " sans interand rustic songs. One of the lords mission " that a fool could be so medi sings :

tative : “ Blow, blow, thou winter wind, O noble fool; A worthy fool! Motley's the Thou art not so unkind

only wear.
As man's ingratitude ;

O that I were a fool!
Thy tooth is not so keen,

I am ambitious for a motley coat." *
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.

The next minute he returns to his mel. Heigh-hol sing, heigh-hol unto the green ancholy dissertations, bright pictures holly:

whose vivacity explains his character. Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere and betrays Shakspeare, hiding under folly: Then heigh-ho, the holly!

his name: This life is most jolly." +

“ All the world's a stage. Amongst these lords is found a soul that They have their exits and their entrances ;

And all the men and women merely players : suffers more, Jacques the melancholy, And one man in his time plays many parts, one of Shakspeare's best-loved char. His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, acters, a transparent mask behind Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. which we perceive the face of the And shining morning face, creeping like snail

And then the whining shoolboy, with his satchel, poet. He is sad because he is ten- Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, der; he feels the contact of things tno Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad keenly, and what leaves others indiffers full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,

Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, ent, makes him weep. He does not Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, scold, he is sad; he does not reason, Seeking the bubble reputation he is moved; he has not the combative Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the spirit of a reforming moralist ; his soul In fair round belly with good capon lined,

justice, is sick and weary of life. Impassioned With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, imagination leads quickly to disgust. Full of wise saws and modern instances ; Like opium, it excites and shatters. And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts It leads man to the loftiest philosophy, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,

Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, then lets him down to the whims of a His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide child. Jacques leaves other men ab- For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice ruptly, and goes to the quiet nooks to Turning again toward childish treble, pipes be alone. He loves his sadness, and And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all

That ends this strange eventful history, would not exchange it for joy. Meet. Is second childishness and mere oblivion ing Orlando, he says:

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every

thing." + “ Rosalind is your love's name? Orlando. Yes, just.

As you Like it is a half dream. Mida Jacques. I do not like her name.” $ summer Night's Dream is a completo He has the fancies of a nervous woman.

The scene, buried in the far-off mist * As you Like it, ii. 1. Ibid. ii. 7. of fabulous antiquity, carries us back

Compare Jacques with the Alceste of Molière. It is the contrast between a mis- to Theseus, Duke of Athens, who is anthrope through reasoning and one through preparing his palace for his marriage imagination. { As you Like it, ü. a.

Ibid. ü. 7.

1 Ibidh

one.

with the beautiful queen of the Ama- | beneath the radiant eyes of the stars, zons. The style, loaded with contort. now wet with tears, now bright with ed images, fills the mind with strange rapture. They have the abandonment and splendid visions, and the airy elf- of true love, not the grossness of sem world divert the comedy into the fairy- sual love. Nothing causes us to fall lud from whence it sprung.

from the ideal world in which S.ak. Love is still the theme: of all senti- speare conducts us. Dazzled by beau. nents, is it not the greatest fancy-weav- | ty, they adore it, and the spectacle of or? But love is not heard here in the their happiness, their emotion, and

harming prattle of Rosalind; it is glar- their tenderness, is a kind of enchant'ng, like the season of the year. It does ment. not brim over in slight conversations, in Above these two couples flutters and supple and skipping prose ; it breaks hums the swarm of elves and fairies. forth into big rhyming odes, dressed in They also love. Titania, their queen, magnificent metaphors, sustained by has a young boy for her favorite, son impassioned accents, such as a warm of an Indian king, of whom Oberon, night, odorous and star-spangled, in her husband, wishes to deprive her spires in a poet and a lover. Lysander They quarrel, so that the elves creep and Hermia agree to meet.

for fear into the acorn cups, in the “ Lysander. To-morrow night when Phæbe gɔlden primroses. Oberon, by way of doth behold

vengeance, touches Titania's sleeping Her silver visage in the watery glass,

eyes with the magic flower, and thus on Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, waking the nimblest and most charming A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,

of the fairies finds herself enamored of Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal.

a stupid blockhead with an ass's head. Hermia. And in the wood, where often you She kneels before him : she sets on his and I

· hairy temples a coronet of fresh and Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie. There my Lysander and myself shall meet.

fragrant flowers :" They get lost, and

fall asleep, wearied, “ And that same dew, which sometime on the under the trees. Puck squeezes in the

buds

Was wont to swell like round and orient youth's eyes the juice of a magic flow- pearls, er and changes his heart. Presently, Stood now within the pretty floweret's eyes, when he awakes, he will become en- Like tears that did their own disgrace beamored of the first woman he sees. Meanwhile Demetrius, Hermia's re- She calls round her all her fairy atten jected lover, wanders with Helena, dants ; whom he rejects, in the solitary wood.

“ Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; The magic flower changes him in turn:

Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes ; re now loves Helena. The lovers flee Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, and pursue one another, beneath the With purple grapes, green figs, and 'mui lofty trees, in the calm night. We

berries; smile at their transports, their com

The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees,

And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs plaints, their ecstasies, and yet we join And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes n them. This passion is a dream, and To have my love to bed and to arise ; yet it moves us. It is like those airy

And pluck the wings from painted butterfties

To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping Hebs which we find at morning on the

eyes. ... erest of the hedgerows where the dew Come, wait upon him; lead him to my ias spread them, and whose weft spar

bower. kles like a jewel-casket. Nothing can

The moon, methinks, looks with a watery

eye ; be more fragile, and nothing more And when she weeps, weeps every little graceful. The poet sports with emo- flower, tions ; he mingles, confuses, redoubles,

Lamenting some enforced chastity.. interweaves them; he twines and un

Tie up, my love's tonguc bring 'him silent

ly.” twines these loves like the mazes of a dance, and we see the noble and ten- It was necessary, for her love brayed der figures pass by the verdant bushes, horribly, and to all the offers of Titania, * Midsummer Night' Dream, i. 1.

Ibid. iv. s.

Ibich üi. 1

wail." +

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replied with a petition for hay. What Merrily, merrily shall I live now can be sadder and sweeter than this

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

I drink the air before me, and return irony of Shakspeare? What raillery

Or ere your pulse twice beat." * against love, and what tenderness for love! The sentiment is divine : its swift a wing, by leaps as sudden, with

Shakspeare glides over things on as o'yject unworthy. The heart is rav

a touch as delicate. ished, che eyes blind. It is a golden butterfly, fluttering in the mud; and and what sovereignty of an unique

What a soull what extent of action, Shakspeare, whilst painting its misery, faculty! what diverse creations, and sreserves all its beauty :

what s ersistence of the same impress! Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, There they all are united, and ai' While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth and reason, governed by mood, imag,

marked by the same sign, void of wi.. head, A d kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. ination, or pure passion, destitute of Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. the faculties contrary to those of the So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle poet, dominated by the corporeal .ype Gently entwist; the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. which his painter's eyes have O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!” *ceived, endowed by the habits of mind

and by the vehement sensibility which At the return of morning, when

he finds in himself.t Go through the The eastern gate, all fiery red,

groups, and you will only discover in Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, them divers forms and divers states of Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams,

the same power.

Here, a herd of the enchantment ceases, Titania awakes brutes, dotards, and gossips, made up on her couch of wild thyme and droop- of a mechanical imagination ; further ing violets. She drives the monster on, a company of men of wit, animated away ; her recollections of the night by a gay and foolish imagination; then, are effaced in a vague twilight: a charming swarm of women whom “ These things seem small and undistinguish their delicate imagination raises so able,

high, and their self-forgetting love carLike far-off mountains turned into clouds."Iries so far; elsewhere a band of vilAnd the fairies

lains, hardened by unbridled passions

inspired by artistic rapture ; in the cen “Go seek some dew drops here And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear." $

tre a mournful train of grand charac

ters, whose excited brain is filled with Such is Shakspeare's fantasy, a slight sad or criminal visions, and whom an tissue of bold inventions, of ardentinner destiny urges to murder, madness, passions, melancholy mockery, dazzling or death. Ascend one stage, and conpoetry, such as one of Titania's elves template the whole scene: the aggre. would have made. Nothing could be gate bears the same mark as the demore like the poet's mind than these tails. The drama reproduces promisnimble genii, children of air and fame, cuously uglinesses, basenesses, horrors, whose flights “compass the globe” in unclean details, profligate and ferocious a second, who glide over the foam of manners, the whole reality of life just the waves and skip between the atoms as it is, when it is unrestrained by deco of the winds. Ariel flies, an invisible rum; common sense, reason, and duty songster, around shipwrecked men to Comedy, led through a phantasmagssia console them, discovers the thoughts of of pictures, gets lost in the likely and traitors, pursues the savage beast Cali- the unlikely, with no other connection ban, spreads gorgeous visions before but the caprice of an amused imagin. lovers, and does all in a lightning- ation, wantonly disjointed and roman. Hash :

tic, an opera without musis, a concerto

of melancholy and tender sentiments, * Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie. ...

which bears the mind into the super.

* Tempest, v. 1. * Midsummer Night's Dream, iv. !. † There is the same law a the organic and ir Ibid. iii. 2.

# Ibid. iv. i. the moral world. It is what Geoffrey Saim $ Ibid. ii. 1.

Hilaire calls unity of composition.

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