account. Oliver with contemptuous words accedes, but he intends to be rid of him in some other way without paying his portion. A favourable occasion offers. The wrestler of the reigning Duke comes to tell him that Orlando has challenged him to a wrestling-match before the ruler, but as this will certainly prove fatal to the young man, he calls upon Oliver to dissuade him from the dangerous undertaking. The wicked brother tells the wrestler that "he had as lief he should break Orlando's neck as his finger, that there is not one so young and so villainous this day living," and endeavours in every way to provoke the wrestler's anger against Orlando.

The gentle angelic

Rosalind and Celia desire to look on at this wrestlingmatch, and strive with moving entreaties to turn the youth from his purpose. Rosalind in this scene betrays that she has given her heart to this handsome, charming young man. But all in vain. He dares the combat, and is victorious. The Duke, who was about to reward him, turns away coldly on hearing that he is the son of Sir Roland de Bois, a faithful adherent of his deposed brother. Celia is deeply wounded by her father's unjust proceeding, and feels constrained to speak a friendly word to the young man who has been so ill-treated. Rosalind, carried away by her newly awakened inclination, gives him a gold chain, and can scarcely consent to part from him. Celia's friendship is put to a severe test, whence she issues victorious. The Duke, her father, seized with sudden anger against Rosalind, banishes her from court, but Celia will not part from her friend, and they resolve to repair to Rosalind's father in the forest of Arden. With gay coquettish wit, Rosalind declares her intention of assuming man's attire:

Were it not better,

Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,

A boar-spear in my hand; and—in my heart

P

Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will-
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have

That do outface it with their semblances.

As You Like It, act i. scene 3.

The two girls, after some hardships, find themselves in the forest, and take up their abode in a farm, where they live as brother and sister. They renew acquaintance with Orlando, who has also fled from his brother's persecution into the forest. The part of Adam, his faithful servant, who accompanies him, and which was evidently delineated with affection by the poet, used to be played by Shakespeare himself. The fascinating idyllic picture of forest life is one of the most enchanting ever created by a poet. Orlando, tormented by love, cuts the name of Rosalind on the bark of every tree, and hangs love-poems on every branch. I incline to believe that he recognised her at their first meeting, which makes their charming game of hide-and-seek only the more delightful. He can only express his devotion through the mock lovemaking she exacts in her boy character, until, become a girl again, she gives herself to him entirely, with her father's consent. The wicked Oliver, too, saved by Orlando from a cruel death, is thereby so touched and softened that he is converted, and as a reformed man wins the heart of the lovely Celia. The usurper is also converted by a holy friar, and restores the dominion to his deposed brother. We cannot follow the skilful and artistic action in all its details. It is only permitted to us to place the fair womanly figure of Rosalind in a right light. [Rosalind is a character akin to Beatrice, in Much Ado About Nothing. She is gentler than Beatrice, but also less strong and deep. She is as witty and lively, but in another way. Beatrice's wit flashes like lightning, blinding, but often disquieting. Rosalind's distils itself like a refreshing spring. She chatters as a bird sings; all her life, joy, and love, all the sweet and happy movements of her heart overflow into her talk. She is as gentle as she

is lively; over her boldest playfulness there breathes a sweet tenderness. Even her male attire, so slippery and dangerous a test to feminine modesty, does not harm her. How passionate and deep appears her love for Orlando, whether she hides it saucily, allows it to break forth impatiently, or half-unconsciously betrays it by fainting away at sight of the bloody handkerchief. How well she understands how to make herself agreeable to Orlando, in her conversations with him as a boy, without ever failing in female modesty. This Rosalind, in her wondrous mixture of playfulness, naïveté, and tenderness, is like a fine musical chord, and we abandon ourselves joyfully to the fascinating impression this absolutely harmonious female character arouses.

TWELFTH NIGHT"

Viola-Olivia

Attractive womanliness, profound feeling and prudence, modesty and boldness, all these qualities unite in the lovely being Shakespeare calls Viola, and who, in that most perfect comedy, Twelfth Night, is one of his most charming female characters. We are in the capital of Illyria. The first scene presents us to the ruler, who is wasting away with a romantic passion for Countess Olivia. She returns cold answers to all his messages, for she is sunk in grief for the loss of a beloved brother, and has resolved to bewail him seven years in cloistered retirement. His passion, in lieu of being quieted by this resistance, is only the more enkindled, for he paints to himself, with glowing fancy, how one who can consecrate such true love to a brother will love him who wins her heart:

How will she love, when the rich golden shaft
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else
That live in her; when liver, brain, and heart,
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd

Her sweet perfections with one self king!

Twelfth Night, act i. scene 1.

After this short opening scene, in which the poet has shown us the characters of the romantic sentimental Duke and the seemingly cold Olivia, he brings before us the womanly being who shall make both change their rôles. Viola and her twin brother have suffered shipwreck on the coast of Illyria. She has but slight hopes that her brother has escaped a watery death, although she has been assured. by the captain, who was saved together with her and a small number of the seamen, that he was last seen bound to a mast and floating on the waves. Information given to her by the captain causes her to conceive the idea of entering the service of Duke Orsino as a page, and when the sailor has procured her the necessary disguise, she carries out her design. Her charming appearance, even in male clothes, her amiable, prudent, and yet attractive demeanour, work with magic power upon the Duke. She rapidly wins his affectionate favour and full confidence, and is loaded by him with gifts and favours. The commission intrusted to her, to make yet another trial to win over Olivia to his suit, is a painful one. "Yet a barful strife, whoc'er I woo, myself would be his wife." She has been seized with a passion for him, mingled with pity, gratitude, and tenderness. Nevertheless, she pleads his cause with glowing eloquence and skill. The rich fancy, the rare poetic gifts of this charming girl, which are but increased by her hidden romantic love for Orsino, are revealed in her description of how she would win Olivia's heart, were she inflamed by love for her:

Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love

And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out 'Olivia!' O, you should not rest
Between the elements of air and earth,

But you should pity me.-Twelth Night, act i. scene 5.