"the pleached bower, Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun, Forbid the sun to enter," hears it said of her, and hears it without any violence or burst of passion, "Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, And why is she so calm under this bitter than a man swear he loves me," does to that of Beatrice. They are each acting; and they have each a shrewd guess that the other is acting; and each is in the other's thoughts; and the stratagem by which they are each entrapped-not, as we think, into an unreal love, as Ulrici says is precisely in its symmetrical simplicity what was necessary to get rid of their reciprocal disguises, and to make them straightforward and in earnest. The conclusion of the affair is the playful echo of all that is past light, I take thee for pity. "Bene. Come, I will have thee; but, by this Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion." The 'Much Ado about Nothing' was acted under the name of 'Benedick and Beatrice,' even during the life of its author. These two characters absorb very much of the acting interest of the play. They are starcharacters, suited for the Garricks and Jordans to display themselves in. But they cannot be separated from the play without being liable to misconstruction. The character of Beatrice cannot be understood, except in connection with the injuries done to Hero; and except, once again, we view it, as well as the characters of all the other agents in the scene, with reference to the one leading idea, that there is a real aspect of things which is to be seen by the audience and not seen by the agents. The character of Don John, for example, and the characters of his loose confederates, are understood by the spectators; and their villainy is purposely transparent. Without Don John the plot could not move. He is not a rival in Claudio's love, as the "wicked duke" of Ariosto: he is simply a moody, ill-conditioned, spiteful rascal:-such a one as ordinarily takes to backbiting and hinting away character. Shakspere gets rid of him as soon as he can: he fires the train and disappears. He would be out of harmony with the happiness which he has suspended but not destroyed; and so he passes from the stage, with It is the injury done to Hero which wrings from Beatrice the avowal of her love for Benedick. Is it a reproach to her that she would have her lover peril his life against the false accuser of her cousin? She has thrown off her maidenly disguises, and the earnestness of her soul will have vent. She and Benedick are now bound for ever in their common pity for the unfortunate. The conventional Beatrice has become the actual Beatrice. The "subjective appearance" has become the "objective reality." The same process is repeated throughout the character of Benedick, for the original groundwork of the character is the same as that of Beatrice. "Would you have me speak after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex," presents the same key to his character as "I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, But his instrumentality has been of the utmost "Think not on him till to-morrow." importance. It has given us that beautiful altar-scene, that would be almost too tragical if we did not know that the "Much Ado" was "about Nothing." But that maiden's sorrows, and that father's passion, are real aspects of life, however unreal be the cause of them. The instrumentality, too, of the hateful Don John has given us Dogberry and Verges. Coleridge has said, somewhat hastily we think, "any other less ingeniously absurd watchmen and night-constables would have answered the mere necessities of the action." Surely not. Make Dogberry in the slightest degree less self-satisfied, loquacious, full of the official stuff of which functionaries are still cut out, and the action breaks down before the rejection of Hero by her lover. For it is not the ingenious absurdity that prevents the detection of the plot against Hero; it is the absurdity which prevents the prompt disclosure of it after the detection. Let us take a passage of this inimitable piece of comedy to read apart, that we may see how entirely the character of Dogberry is necessary to the continuance of the action. When Borachio and Conrade are overheard and arrested, the spectators have an amiable hope that the mischief of Don John's plot will be prevented; but when Dogberry and Verges approach Leonato, the end, as they think, is pretty sure. Let us see how the affair really works : "Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers; but, truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king I could find in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. Leon. All thy tediousness on me! ha! Dogb. Yea, and 't were a thousand times more than 't is: for I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any man in the city; and though I be but a poor man I am glad to hear it. Verg. And so am I. Leon. I would fain know what you have to say. Verg. Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your worship's presence, have ta'en a couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. Dogb. A good old man, sir; he will be talking; as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out; God help us! it is a world to see!Well said, i' faith, neighbour Verges:-well, God's a good man; and two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind:-An honest soul, i' faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but God is to be worshipped: All men are not alike; alas, good neighbour! Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. Dogb. Gifts, that God gives. Truly did Don Pedro subsequently say, "This a "Flat burglary as ever was committed." Here is the crowning irony of the philosophical poet. The players of the game of life see nothing, or see minute parts only: but the dullest by-stander has glimpses of something more. In studying a play of Shakspere with the assurance that we have possessed ourselves of the fundamental "idea" in which it was composed, it is remarkable how many incidents and expressions which have previously appeared to us at least difficult of comprehension are rendered clear and satisfactory. As believers in Shakspere we know that he wrought in the spirit of the highest art, producing in every case a work of unity, out of the power of his own "multiformity." But, as we have before said, we have not always, as in the case of the natural landscape, got the right point of view, so as to have the perfect harmony of the composition made manifest to us. Let us be assured, however, that there is an entirety, and therefore a perfect accordance in all its parts, in every great production of a great poet,—and above all in every production of the world's greatest poet; and then, studying with this conviction, when the parts have become familiar to us— as in the case before us, the sparkling raillery of Benedick and Beatrice, the patient gentleness of Hero, the most truthful absurdity of Dogberry-they gradually fuse themselves together in our minds, and the whole at last lies clear before us, "A world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite." CHAPTER VI. THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. THE first edition of this play was published in 1602. The same copy was reprinted in 1619. The comedy, as it now stands, first appeared in the folio of 1623; and the play in that edition contains very nearly twice the number of lines that the quarto contains. The succession of scenes is the same in both copies, except in one instance; but the speeches of the several characters are greatly elaborated in the amended copy, and some of these characters are not only heightened, but new distinctive features given to them. For example, the Slender of the present comedyone of the most perfect of the minor characters of Shakspere — is a very inferior conception in the first copy. Our Slender has been worked up out of the first rough sketch, with touches at once delicate and powerful. Again, the Justice Shallow of the quarto is an amusing person-but he is not the present Shallow; we have not even the repetitions which identify him with the Shallow of 'Henry IV.' We point out these matters here, for the purpose of showing that, although the quarto of 1602 was most probably piratically published when the play had been remodelled, and was reprinted With your long nails pinch her till she cry, And fox-eyed serjeants, with their mace, Sir Hugh. I smell a man of middle earth. Sir Hugh. See, I have spied one by good luck, His body man, his head a buck. Fal. God send me good fortune now, and I care not. Qui. Go straight, and do as I command, And take a taper in your hand, And set it to his fingers' ends, And if you see it him offends, And that he starteth at the flame, Then is he mortal, know his name: If with an F it doth begin, Why then be sure he 's full of sin. About it then, and know the truth, Of this same metamorphos'd youth. Sir Hugh. Give me the tapers, I will try And if that he love venery. FOLIO OF 1623. Qui. Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine-revellers, and shades of night, You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office and your quality. Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy oyes. Pist. Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys. Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap: Where fires thou find'st unraked, and hearths unswept, There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry: Fal. They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die: I'll wink and couch: no man their works must eye. [Lies down upon his face. Eva. Where 's Pede?-Go you, and where you find a maid, That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, But those as sleep and think not on their sins, Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins. Qu.* About, about; Search Windsor-castle, elves, within and out: Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, Eva. Pray you, lock hand in hand; your- And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, To guide our measure round about the tree. But stay: I smell a man of middle earth. Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy! Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese! Pist. Vild worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth. Qui. With trial-fire touch me his finger end. Eva. Come, will this wood take fire? Fal. Oh, oh, oh! *In the folio there is a distinction between the abbreviations of the names affixed to these speeches-Qui. and Qu. The one may be taken for Quickly--the other for Queen. It is certain that in the revised edition Anne was " to present the fairy queen." Qui. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme; And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. If the quarto is not to be taken as a guide in the formation of a text, it appears to us, viewed in connection with some circum stances which we shall venture to point out as heretofore in some degree unregarded, to be a highly interesting literary curiosity. Malone, contrary to his opinion with regard to the quarto edition of Henry V.,' says of the quarto of 'The Merry Wives of Windsor,' "The old edition in 1602, like that of Romeo and Juliet,' is apparently a rough draught, and not a mutilated or imperfect copy." His view, therefore, of the period when this play was written applies to the "rough draught." Malone's opinion of the date of this sketch is thus stated in his 'Chronological Order :'"The following line in the earliest edition of this comedy, 'Sail like my pinnace to those golden shores,' shows that it was written after Sir Walter Raleigh's return from Guiana in 1596. "The first sketch of 'The Merry Wives of Windsor' was printed in 1602. It was entered in the books of the Stationers' Company on the 18th of January, 1601-2, and was therefore probably written in 1601 after the two Parts of King Henry IV.,' being, it is said, composed at the desire of Queen Elizabeth, in order to exhibit Falstaff in love, when all the pleasantry which he could afford in any other situation was exhausted. But it may not be thought so clear that it was written after 'King Henry V.' Nym and Bardolph are both hanged in King Henry V.,' yet appear in The Merry Wives of Windsor.' Falstaff is disgraced in 'The Second Part of King Henry IV.,' and dies in 'King Henry V.;' but, in The Merry Wives of Windsor,' he talks as if he were yet in favour at court: 'If it should come to the ear of the court how I have been transformed,' &c. and Mr. Page discountenances Fenton's addresses to his daughter because he 'kept company with the wild prince and with Pointz.' These circumstances seem to favour the supposition that this play was written between the First and Second Parts of King Henry IV.' But that it was not written then may be collected from the tradition above mentioned. The truth, I believe, is, that, though it ought to be read (as Dr. Johnson has observed) between the 'Second Part of King Henry IV.' and King Henry V.,' it was written after King Henry V.,' and after Shakspeare had killed Falstaff. In obedience to the royal commands, having revived him, he found it necessary at the same time to revive all those persons with whom he was wont to be exhibited, Nym, Pistol, Bardolph, and the Page, and disposed of them as he found it convenient, without a strict regard to their situations or catastrophes in former plays." The opinion that this comedy was written after the two Parts of Henry IV.' is not quite in consonance with the tradition that Queen Elizabeth desired to see Falstaff in love; for Shakspere might have given this turn to the character in 'Henry V.,' after the announcement in the Epilogue to 'The Second Part of Henry IV.'-" our humble author will continue the story, with Sir John in it." Malone's theory, therefore, that it was produced after 'Henry V.,' is in accordance with the tradition as received by him with such an implicit belief. George Chalmers, however, in his 'Supplemental Apology,' laughs at the tradition, and at Malone's theory. He believes that the three historical plays and the comedy were successively written in 1596, and in 1597, but that 'Henry V.' was produced the last. He says, "In it (Henry V.') Falstaff does not come out upon the stage, but dies of a sweat, after performing less than the attentive auditors were led to expect and in it ancient Pistol appears as the husband of Mistress Quickly; who also dies, during the ancient's absence in the wars of France. Yet do the commentators bring the knight to life, and revive and unmarry the dame, by assigning the year 1601 as the epoch of 'The Merry Wives of Windsor.' Queen Elizabeth is said by the critics to have commanded these miracles to be worked in 1601,—a time when she was in no proper mood for such fooleries. The tradition on which is founded the story of Elizabeth's command to exhibit the facetious |