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For we will have variety of delights,

We'll to the field again; no game shall rise

But we'll be ready for't: if a hare, my greyhounds
Shall make a course; for the pie or jay, a sparhawk
This from the fist; the crow so near pursued,
Shall be compell'd to seek protection under
Our horses' bellies; a hearn put from her siege,
And a pistol shot off in her breech, shall mount
So high, that, to your view, she'll seem to soar
Above the middle region of the air:

A cast of haggard falcons, by me mann'd,
Eying the prey at first, appear as if

They did turn tail; but with their labouring wings
Getting above her, with a thought their pinions
Cleaving the purer element, make in,

And by turns bind with her; the frighted fowl,
Lying at her defence upon her back,

With her dreadful beak awhile defers her death,
But by degrees forced down, we part the fray,
And feast upon her.

Cald. This cannot be, I grant,

But pretty pastime.

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'Tis royal sport. Then, for an evening flight,
A tiercel gentle, which I call, my masters,

As he were sent a messenger to the moon,

In such a place flies, as he seems to say,

See me, or see me not! the partridge sprung,

He makes his stoop; but, wanting breath, is forced

To cancelier; then with such speed, as if

He carried lightning in his wings, he strikes
The tumbling bird, who even in death appears
Proud to be made his quarry."

The passage in which Massinger thus describes what had been presented to his observation is one of the many examples of the rare power which the dramatists of Shakspere's age possessed, -the power of seeing nature with their own eyes. But we may almost venture to say that this power scarcely existed in dramatic poetry before Shakspere taught his contemporary poets that there was something better in art than the conventional images of books-the shadows of shadows. The wonderful superiority of Shakspere over all others, in stamping the minutest objects of creation, as well as the highest mysteries of the soul of man, with the impress of truth, must have been derived, in some degree, from his education, working with his genius. All his early experience must have been his education; and we therefore are not attempting mere fan

The Guardian, Act 1., Scene 1. The speakers are Durazza and Caldoro.

ciful combinations of the individual with the circumstances of his social position, when we surround him with the scenes which belong to his locality, his time, and his condition of life.

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NOTE ON THE SHAKSPERIAN LOCALITIES.

We have endeavoured to render the local descriptions and allusions in this chapter, and in preceding passages, more intelligible, by subjoining a map of the neighbourhood of Stratford. In this neighbourhood there is little of that scenery which we call romantic; but the surpassing fertility, the undulating surfaces, the rich woodlands, the placid river, and the numerous and beautiful old churches, render it an interesting country to walk over, independent of its associations. Those associations impart to this neighbourhood an unequalled charm; and the outline map here given may probably assist the lover of Shakspere in a ramble through his

"Daily walks, and ancient neighbourhood."

The very beautiful sketches of Mr. Harvey, of which we can attest the fidelity, as far as regards their local accuracy, may also lend an interest to such a visit. The map has been constructed with reference to the insertion of places only which are either named in Shakspere's works, or with which he or his family were connected, or which have appeared to us demanding mention or allusion in his biography. The map is, of course, a map for the present day, but there are very few names inserted which are not found in Dugdale's Map of the hundreds which contain this neighbourhood. Many, of course, are omitted which are there found.

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THE poet who has described a man of savage wildness, cherishing "unshaped, half-human thoughts" in his wanderings among vales and streams, green wood and hollow dell, has said that nature ne'er could find the way into his heart :

"A primrose by a river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more."

;

These are lines at which some of the worldly-wise and clever have been wont to laugh; but they contain a deep and universal truth. Without some association, the most beautiful objects in nature have no charm; with association, the commonest acquire a value. The very humblest power of observation is

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