lower-born lady, of God's own make, to lift him to a level that obtains any of our regard. He has physical courage, but of moral courage he has none, and is unable to judge men.

wins the heart of the duke, and on the same day she is made the "mistress of her lord" and Illyria's duchess.

Viola is the true heroine of the play. She is sad for her brother's supposed death; but she is thankful for her own escape, and looks disaster full in the face, taking practical steps for her future life. The duke wants sympathy, and she gives it to him; she knows the duke loves music, and she gives it to him to

See Page 232.

THE sources which on the novel entitled "Apollo

HE sources which our poet made use of for this nius and Silla." According to some, he is said to have probably used two Italian comedies of similar name, namely, "Gl'inganni" and "Glingannate." Twelfth Night was written in 1599; but there is no edition of an earlier date than the first folio, in 1623. This comedy opens with a beautiful eulogium on music, which prevails throughout. The use of Evirati, in the same inanner as at present, seems to have been well known at this time, as appears in Act I.

SCENE.—Laid in a city in Illyria, and the

sea-coast near it.

Sebastian and his sister Viola were twins of the most remarkable resemblance to one another. Having both escaped the danger of perishing by shipwreck, Viola is rescued by the captain and taken to the coast of Illyria. Through the aid of her benefactor, the maiden, dressed in male attire, enters into the service of Duke Orsino. Intimate acquaintance with this handsome and excellent man inflames the susceptible heart of Viola with the fire of a first love. But the duke loves Olivia, a rich and fair young countess. Viola, in her disguise

as a page, introduces herself to Olivia, on behalf of use

master, Orsino, who passionately loves Olivia, who is, however, in mourning for her brother; and, unable to return the duke's affection, refuses at first even to listen to Viola's message, but no sooner sees her than, ignorant of her sex, she falls in love with the page; forgetful of the vow of entire seclusion from the world, Olivia unveils herself before Viola (Cesario), confess ing her feelings, which, of course, are not returned. Viola, now perceiving the danger of her disguise, hastens from the presence of Olivia, with the emphatic

declaration that she would never love a woman. Meantime her brother, who too had been saved by the captain of a vessel, arrives likewise in Illyria. His benefactor, who had at a former time during a naval engagement inflicted great damage on the Illyrians (had even caused the death of their duke), is of course in imminent peril among these people. His liberty, his property, yes, even his life, are in jeopardy, and nothing but the love for his protége could have caused him to land. A ruffian who courts Olivia, and is jealous of the supposed rival Cesario, whom he deems the favorite of the countess, attacks Viola, and Antonio, confounding her with Sebastian, hastens to her relief. Of ficers of the law appear upon the scene of the tumult, and, recognizing Antonio from his taking part in the naval combat, take him off to prison. After Viola's departure from the scene of the trouble, Sebastian, who is in search of Antonio, appears, and is himself attacked by Viola's adversary. The countess, who having now interceded with the duke, mistakes Sebastian for Orsino's page, and as such loads him with caresses. Sebastian, astonished at his good fortune and struck with her beauty, falls in love at first sight. A priest at hand solemnizes the marriage ceremony without delay. Viola, who makes herself known as Sebastian's sister, by her womanly charm, spirit, and faithful love,

that Viola describes, and the fancied love the duke feels for Olivia. That is a touching scene between Viola and the duke, where the music makes her in answer to the duke's fancied greatness of his love, gives him such hints of her own far greater affection for him, that no man not blinded by phantasm could have failed to catch the meaning of her words. Then comes that scene when the man she adores threatens her with death, and she will take it joyfully from him whom she declares then she loves more than life, and finally the reciprocation of her love by the duke. The duke has a fanciful nature; he is a dreamy, musical man. Still, he is not to be despised. His is a rich, beautiful, artistic nature, fond of music and flowers, and his love once obtained makes him a husband tender and true. The comic characters of the play are Shakespeare's own. The self-conceit of Malvolio is refreshing.

speak in so masterly a way of love; and where Viola,

THE WINTER'S TALE.

See Page 251.

THE plot is taken from the "History of Dorastus and Fawnia," by Thomas Green, and was written, according to Chalmers, in 1601, and according to Malone in 1604; and first appeared in the folio of 1623. Schlegel, the great German translator and Shakespearian scholar, says that the title of this comedy answers admirably to its subject. It is one of those histories which appear framed to delight the idleness of a long evening. There are two somewhat absurd songs, some other musical illusions, and a pedler's song woven into this drama. SCENE.-Sometimes in Sicilia and at times

in Bohemia.

. Polixenes, King of Bohemia (a country we must imagine in this play to extend to the sea-coast), is on a visit to the court of his lifelong friend Leontes, King of Sicilia, and after a sojourn of nine months at last resolves to depart. The urgency of Leontes to induce his friend to continue his visit somewhat longer being without avail, he requests his queen Hermione to try her fortune in accomplishing that end; and the queen really succeeds in persuading the guest to defer the return to his own country for another week. But suddenly in the king's heart a suspicion now arose by reason of this success wrought by the persuasive eloquence of his wife, and he became at once inflamed by such a violent fit of jealousy that he even seeks to take his noble friend's life. By an honorable confidential friend, whom he sought to employ as a tool to carry out his revenge, Polixenes is prevented from further designs upon the King of Bohemia. But Leontes is still jealous of his wife, and with Polixenes enters her apartment and demands the delivery of his only son, Mamillius. Hermione remonstrates, and is ordered to prison; while there she is delivered of a daughter, Perdita. The infant is brought by Paulina, wife of Antigonus, a lord of his court, to its father, but is

ordered out of his sight. The oracle to whose decision the case is submitted, declares the queen innocent, and prophesies that Sicilia's crown will remain without an heir until the abandoned child is found again. At the same time the death of the crown prince is announced, upon which news the queen faints and is taken away for dead. Thus ends the first three acts in the drama.

The fourth act is ushered in by a prologue, and is laid sixteen years later in Bohemia. The ship in which Antigonus, the Sicilian lord, carried the infant princess

out to sea, had been driven by a storm upon the coast of Bohemia, where the child was left by him, dressed in rich clothes and jewels, with a paper pinned to its mantle with the name Perdita written thereon. Antigonus never returned to Sicily, for he was torn to pieces by a bear as he was going back to the vessel. The deserted baby was found by an old shepherd, who took it home to his wife, who nursed it carefully. Perdita, the banished infant of Leontes, brought up to womanhood as the shepherd's daughter, gains the affections of Florizel, the son of the King of Bohemia. The king Polixenes attends the sheep-shearing (a rustic festival) in disguise, at which the loving pair are both present, discovers himself, and forbids their intimacy.

Camillo, a courtier of Sicily, who had been sojourning at Polixenes's court, proposes to Florizel and Perdita that they shall go with him to the Sicilian court. To this proposal they joyfully agreed, taking with them the old shepherd, the reputed father of Perdita, who has still preserved Perdita's jewels, baby-clothes, and the paper which he had found pinned to her garments. They all arrive at the court of Leontes in safety, who receives them with great cordiality. The king had bitterly repented of his former jealous frenzy, and is now entirely satisfied at having found his long-lost child. Polixenes, King of Bohemia, in pursuit of his son, arrives also in Sicily, and now everything that was obscure is cleared up, and Queen Hermione, believed to be dead, returns from her place of seclusion, and the play ends in transports of joy and happiness.

In the Winter's Tale, we see the contrast between town and country. The play is fragrant with Perdita, with her primroses and violets, so happy in the reconciliation of her father and mother, so bright with the sunshine of her and Florizel's young love. So long as men can think, Perdita shall brighten and sweeten their minds and lives. There is something so ineffably touching in the lost and injured daughter meeting the injuring father and forgiving him. Above all rises the figure of the noble, long-suffering wife, Hermione, forgiving the cruel and unjust, though now deeply repentant, husband who has so cruelly injured her. She is among the noblest and most magnanimous of Shakespeare's women; without a fault, she suffers, and for sixteen years, as though guilty of the greatest fault. If we contrast her noble defence of herself against the shameless imputation on her honor with that of other heroires in like case—the swooning of Hero, the ill-starred sentences of Desdemona, the pathetic appeal, and yet submission of Imogen-we will see how splendidly Shakespeare developed this one of his finest creations. When Camillo's happy suggestion that Florizel should take Perdita to Sicily and Leontes has borne fruit, and Shakespeare brings the father and daughter together, and then brings both into unison before us with the mother, though so long dead, the climax of pathos and delight is reached; art can no further go. Paulina is a true lover of her mistress, and a lovely character in her earnestness and courage. Although

the story is told of Sicily, we see all through that the great poet has English scenes in his mind's eye. The lovely country around Stratford is always before him as he writes.

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF KING JOHN.

See Page 275.

the prologue, but the basis of the entire dramas of Shakespeare which treat upon the history of England. It appears to have been written in 1596, but not published till 1623. It was founded on the old play entitled The Troublesome Reign of King John. The action of this present tragedy occupies a space of about seventeen years, beginning at the thirty-fourth year of King John's life. There is no music in this play but trumpets and the din of war.

more than one respect this tragedy is not only

SCENE.-Sometimes in England and France.

After the demise of Richard, surnamed Cœur de Lion, John wrung the English crown from the weak hands of his nephew Arthur, whose claims were supported by King Philip of France. But in the hope of incorporating England with his kingdom by the plan, the French monarch is prevailed to sanction a marriage between the dauphin and a niece of King John, and is about to withdraw his aid from Arthur, when the arrival of the Cardinal Pandulph, the pope's legate, prevents him consummating the agreement, and the dogs of war are again unloosed. Constance, mother of Arthur, having in vain endeavored to interest the French king and the legate in behalf of her son's claim to the crown, appeals in paroxysms of despair to heaven, and denounces Arthur's uncle, John, the usurper of the throne and her son's rights.

Philip of France in a decisive engagement is defeated, and the captured Arthur is handed over by his uncle to the keeping of a certain Hubert, chamberlain to the king. John, feeling insecure from the superior claim of Arthur, orders Hubert to put out his eyes in prison. Hubert, moved to pity by the youth and innocence of the victim, spares him. But on quitting him, the prince, in dread of another attempt, leaps from the ramparts, and is found dead by Pembroke. A number of discontented barons resolve to free themselves from the yoke of the tyrant, and to this end invite the Dauphin of France to assume the English crown, with the sanction of the pope. On the arrival of the dauphin, John is compelled to yield an ignominious abdication by abjectly placing his royalty at the disposal of the cardinal, who then endeavors to stay the advance of the dauphin. His intercession proves, however, unsuccessful; and hostilities are about to be resumed, when the news of the loss of a French transport having a large number of troops on board, together with the news of the desertion of an English reserve force, causes the ardor of the French prince to cool, and inclines him to make peace. Meantime, King John is poisoned by a monk, and his son Prince Henry succeeds to the throne. The departures from history which Shakespeare in this play introduces, are all designed in the interest of dramatic art, and not with the pretext of adhering to strict historic truth.

Considered as a dramatic picture, the grouping is wonderfully fine. On one hand, the vulture-like ambition of the mean-souled and cowardly tyrant John; on the other, the selfish, calculating policy of Philip; between them, balancing their passions in his hand, is Cardinal Pandulph, the cold, subtle, heartless legate; the fiery, reckless Faulconbridge; the princely Lewis; the still unconquered spirit of old Queen Elinor; the bridal loveliness and modesty of Blanch; the boyish grace and innocence of young Arthur; the noble Constance, helpless and yet desperate - form an assemblage of figures that, taken altogether, cannot be surpassed in variety, force, and splendor of dramatic and picturesque effect.

to Ireland to avenge the death of the viceroy, Count Le Marche, who had been slain by the Irish during an insurrection, Bolingbroke makes good use of his absence, having heard of it previously; and, taking the name of Duke of Lancaster, returns to England, landing near Ravenspurgh, in Yorkshire. The Duke of Northumberland and his valiant son Henry Percy (Hotspur), having been insulted by Richard, at once join Bolingbroke's forces. Discontented men pour in from all quarters, and soon swell the forces of Lancaster to an army of 60,000 soldiers. Even Langley, Duke of York, who had been left by Richard as regent in London, offers no resistance, being himself too weak, and, moreover, having been deceived by Bolingbroke, who represents that he had merely returned to have his banishment and the wrongful sequestration of his estates annulled. Bolingbroke, emboldened by continued additions to his army, now enters London at

THE

See Page 295.

HE principal source from which Shakespeare drew the argument of this play was Holinshed's History of England, and he has here adhered to this information. Without detriment to this its practical source, he has followed history literally, with an almost perfect fidelity. Inasmuch as the first edition of this tragedy appeared in 1597, there is good reason to believe that it was written in 1596. Here we have music in abundance. Military instruments are admirably described. All instruments played with the bow, in Shakespeare's time, were fretted except violins, and this is made obvious in this historical drama.

SCENE.-Dispersedly in England and Wales. Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, eldest son to John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster, denounces Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, as a traitor, and, among other accusations, charges him with abetting the murder of the Duke of Gloucester, the king's uncle. Norfolk, the accused duke, denies the charge, and offers to prove his innocence by single combat. The king consents to this, and orders the adversaries to appear on a certain day at Coventry. They arrive there punctually, ready for the encounter; but just at the moment when the signal for commencement is to be given, King Richard protests. Knowing that his own skirts are not clear of the taint of his uncle's death, hence afraid of the consequences of the duel, whatever the result of the latter may be, and also secretly dreading the adversaries, he banishes both nobles, having first assembled the lords of his realm and received their assent. Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, is sentenced to perpetual banishment, while the Duke of Hereford is exiled for ten years, which term the king reduces, out of regard for the aged John of Gaunt, to six years. The king also commands them while abroad never to have verbal intercourse with each other, as he is afraid of their mutual explanations. Soon after Bolingbroke's departure, his father, the Duke of Gaunt, dies, and the king perpetrates the injustice of confiscating the estate of the deceased duke, thus cheating the banished Henry Bolingbroke out of his inheritance. Enraged over this undeserved robbery, Bolingbroke awaits a good opportunity to return to England for the purpose of dethroning King Richard. He knew how to ingratiate himself with the army and the English people, being either related by blood with all the great families, or connected by the bonds of friendship with them. Richard meanwhile is living in great luxury, surrounded by worthless favorties, and influenced by them to tyrannize over his people, who grow bitterly discontented. Richard having gone

ple as their deliverer from a justly hated tyranny. Other cities follow the example of the metropolis. Richard, having heard of Bolingbroke's return from banishment and his attempt to usurp the crown, lands on the coast of Wales, from his Irish expedition, and receives the news of his rival's progress and the danger to which himself and his followers are now exposed. But he can learn nothing but misfortune; for his favorites, Bushy, Green, and Earl of Wiltshire, had already been executed, the Earl of Salisbury's army is scattered, his own troops are weak and inclined to desert, the people embittered, and the regent, York, though thus far a neutral, "neither as friend nor foe," had gone over to Bolingbroke. In this desperate dilemma, Richard appeals to the victor, and invites him, through the agency of the Duke of Northumberland and the Archbishop of Canterbury, to visit him at Flint, near Chester. The duke receives Richard, who with humbled face appears. Seated upon two miserable horses, Richard and Salisbury accompany Bolingbroke to London. Richard is dethroned and condemned to perpetual imprisonment. Bolingbroke ascends the throne under the name of King Henry IV. The old Duke of York becomes a firm friend to the king; the Duke of Aumerle, son of the Duke of York, continuing the firm friend of Richard, notwithstanding his deposition, comes to visit the old duke, his father, with a paper so carelessly concealed on his person, that York, doubting his loyalty to Bolingbroke, seizes it, and finds a treasonable plot to restore Richard to the throne. The father vows to immediately inform the king, but the son himself and his mother intercede and obtain the king's pardon. Richard dies in the fortress of Pomfret by the hands of assassins, whose leader, Sir Pierce of Exton, without equivocation, asserts that he had been induced by Henry IV. to commit the murder. This charge is afterwards denied by the king. Nevertheless, King Henry resolves, in atonement of the bloody deed, to take a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and with this vow, uttered at the coffin of his predecessor, ends the tragedy.

No doubt one of the motives which induced the great poeta sincere patriot, a lover of his country, and a keen observer of the times to take up the role of the historical plays, of which Richard II. is one, was to point out the great dangers to the state, and to the sovereign, of unworthy favorites. The degenerate son of the Black Prince, the flower of warriors, is pictured by Shakespeare as a mere royal sham—a king in words only for act effectively he cannot. His nobles quarrel in his very presence; and the contemptible meanness of his nature is shown in his inability to take the reproof of the noble, dying Gaunt.

SCENE.-Wholly in England.

After the death of the ardent and heroic Percy (Hotspur), the insurgents lose all energy; and although Scroop, Archbishop of York, uses his clerical influence for the success of their cause and thus effect an increase of their numerical strength, yet all the leaders of the insurgents, with the exception of Mowbray, are more inclined to seek redress for their wrongs by a capitulation, than to hazard further their fortunes in battle. On the other hand, the leaders of the king's army, Prince John of Lancaster and the Earl of Westmoreland, do not incline to risk a decisive battle, and hence they invite the ringleaders of the insurgents, when both armies are confronting each other near Gaultree forest, to hold a conference. This leads to a compromise, according to which the insurgent vassals, by authority of the king, receive the assurance that their troubles shall be redressed, and at the same time a disbandment of the troops is stipulated for both sides. The royal troops, however, receive secret orders of a treacherous import, not only to keep together, but to pursue the disbanded insurgent army, and to annihilate it. This they do, and Archbishop Scroop and his fellow-conspirators are without delay led off to execution.

Meantime the king's strength is failing him, and even the news of the destruction of his enemies does not tend to restore him. Feeling the approach of death, Henry orders the crown to be placed on his pillow. Prince Henry, during one of the king's fainting spells, supposing him dead, takes the crown to try it on; but the king recovers, and commands the diadem to be restored to its place, upbraiding the son for his precipitancy; although the dying king is so well satisfied with the innocence of his motives for the action, that he fully excuses the prince. The king soon after this incident died, and the son having succeeded to the throne, on his return from his coronation was rudely saluted by Falstaff, who presumed on the former vicious intimacy. Falstaff, however, was sternly reproved by the new monarch and discarded.

There is a quieter tone pervading this second part: it hardly has the freshness and vigor of the first. Indeed, it would be difficult to keep up the first impressions of Falstaff and the impetuous valor of Hotspur. Even Shallow cannot make up for them. The king leads, not at the head of his army, but in his quiet progress to the grave. The most striking speech in the play is that of Henry the Fourth's on sleep. The lower rank of the people come more to the front in this play; and we have more prominence given than before to the low tavern life and the country squire and his servants. Though the hand of sickness is on the king, yet "Ready, aye ready," is still his word; and as soon as Hotspur is beaten, another army marches against Northumberland and the archbishop, whose two separate rebellions Shakespeare has put into one. How strong is the wish of the old king for the redemption of his son, Prince Hal, from the slough in which he is wallowing. And in the king's last speech to his gallant heir we see the man's whole nature-wily to win, strong to hold, a purpose in all he did. For Prince Hal we have one unworthy scene, two creditable ones. The shadow of his father's death-sickness is on him, and he goes in half self-disgust to his old, loose companions; but there is not much enjoyment in his forced mirth; he feels ashamed of himself, and soon leaves Falstaff and his old life forever. He now deeply feels the degradation of being Falstaff's friend. On hearing of the war again, the prince changes at a

touch and is himself. The next time we see him in his true self is at his father's sick bed, where again he wins to him his father's heart. When Prince Hal becomes king, his treatment of his brothers, the Chief Justice, and Falstaff, is surely wise and right in all three cases. One does feel, though, for Falstaff; but certainly what he ought to have had, he got-the chance of reformation. What other reception could Henry, in the midst of his new state, give in public to the slovenly and debauched old rascal who thrust himself upon him, than the rebuke he so well administered. In the second part, Falstaff has his old wit and humor, | and his slipperiness when caught; but we have him now as more of the sharper, the cheat, and the preyer on others. The scenes with Shallow and Silence, and the choice of soldiers, are beyond all praise. We cannot help noting the use the old rascal intended to make of his power over the young king. Justice now overtakes the rogues. Falstaff dies in obscurity and poverty; Nym and Bardolph are hung in France; Pistol is stripped of his braggart honor. Poins alone, the best of the set, vanishes silently, so that the whole wild set breaks up and disappears, leaving the world to laugh over them and their leader forever.

THE LIFE OF KING HENRY V.

See Page 364.

ON the writings of the chronologist Holinshed this

drama is also founded. Shakespeare truthfully celebrates this, his favorite hero, as the ideal king and warrior; and history itself grants to the master of dramatic art that in this opinion he is entirely justified. The year of the composition of this history is alluded to in the prologue to Act V. of the play, viz., 1599. One cannot mention the year without the thought of that great contemporary of Shakespeare, Edmund Spenser, burnt out of the Irish house he has lovingly described, losing there one of his children, and dying miserably in a tavern in King Street, Westminster, on January 13, 1598, leaving behind him these last lines of his unfinished Faerie Queene as the subject of his last thoughts, as his last prayer on earth: :

"For all that moveth doth in Change delight:
But thenceforth, all shall rest eternally
With Him that is the God of Sabaoth hight.
O! that great Sabaoth God, grant me that Sabaoth's sight!"
Book VII., Canto VIII., stanza ii.

One likes to think of the two poets knowing, honoring, and loving one another, of Shakespeare's following Spenser to his grave in the Abbey, near Chaucer. There is manifest allusion to the different parts of music in the first act.

SCENE.-In England and France.

The incidents represented in this drama reach from the first year of Henry V.'s ascension to the throne to his marriage with Katharine, and are spread over a period of six years. Henry had scarcely come into possession of the English crown, when he prepared ways and means to carry out and fulfil his dying father's injunctions, and by conquests abroad seeks to obliterate the stain which tarnishes his title to the crown on account of his father's usurpation. In pursuance of this plan, he renews an old and outlawed claim to the crown of France, and, for the purpose of enforcing his right, makes preparation by gathering and equipping a large army. The French court, intimidated by such a claim and warlike demonstration, basely attempted the capture and assassination of the English monarch