(in the passage of his Literary Remains' quoted in our foregoing paper), but to its generosity-a distinction, be it observed, affecting the whole leading spirit of the piece. Hero and her confidant know full well how incapable Beatrice is of scoffing at the passion of the man whom she has ever admired, and cannot help loving now that she believes him to be seriously enamoured of herself: but they choose to administer a stimulus to the explicit yielding of her affection, by alarming her lest her established character for "mocking," as her uncle says, "all her wooers out of suit," should operate to deter her lover from a declaration which she now so earnestly desires. While, therefore, on the one hand, she hears herself flattered, by being given to understand from the lips of Ursula,She cannot be so much without true judgment (Having so swift and excellent a wit

As she is priz'd to have) as to refuse

So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick,

it is, on the other hand, we maintain, the generous yet more than the self-regarding part of her passion, that feels itself alarmed by the following animated descant upon her habit of raillery as exercised on her previous wooers, and anticipation of the silence it may impose, and the despair it may inflict, upon her present suitor :

:

Hero. But Nature never fram'd a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice,

Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her

All matter else seems weak: she cannot love,
Nor take no shape nor project of affection,
She is so self-endeared.

Urs.

Sure, I think so;
And therefore, certainly, it were not good
She knew his love, lest she make sport of it.

Hero. Why, you speak truth: I never yet saw man,
How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd,
But she would spell him backward. If fair-faced,
She'd swear the gentleman should be her sister:
If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antic,

Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed :
If low, an agate very vilely cut :

If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds;
If silent, why, a block moved with none :
So turns she every man the wrong side out;
And never gives to truth and virtue that
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.

Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
Hero. No; not to be so odd, and from all fashions,

As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable.

But who dare tell her so? If I should speak,

She'd mock me into air; oh, she would laugh me
Out of myself, press me to death with wit.
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire,
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly;
It were a better death than die with mocks,
Which is as bad as die with tickling.

Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will say.
Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick,
And counsel him to fight against his passion:
And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders,
To stain my cousin with; one doth not know
How much an ill word may empoison liking.

These mortifying anticipations regarding herself, which are thus set before her, are rendered yet more bitter by the contrasting allusion to her cousin's арproaching nuptials, which artfully closes the dialogue in question:

Urs. When are you married, madam?

Hero. Why, every day-to-morrow. Come, go in ;
I'll shew thee some attires; and have thy counsel,
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow.

So that Hero's gentlewoman, confident in the completeness with which they have played their parts, exclaims to her mistress

She's lim'd, I warrant you; we have caught her, madam. This is sufficiently proved by the short soliloquy of Beatrice that immediately follows, the more expressive for its very brevity :

What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true?

Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much?
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu !

No glory lives behind the back of such.

And Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,
Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand;
If thou dost love, my kindness shall invite thee
To bind our loves up in a holy band:
For others say, thou dost deserve; and I
Believe it better than reportingly.

For the reason above stated, we must object very decidedly to Mrs. Jameson's interpretation of this passage, that Beatrice falls, "with all the headlong simplicity of a child, into the snare laid for her affections." It is neither simplicity nor vanity that makes both the hero and the heroine so readily admit the suggestion so artfully addressed to them by their respective friends. It is, that the heart of each whispers them how very possible it is, after all, that the other may be inclined to love, in spite of all appearances to the contrary,—and that it is not possible for them to suspect the nearest and most attached of their common friends, of combining to trifle with them in such a matter. Moreover, the impulse on either part, which so rapidly brings about a mutual declaration, is not of a selfish, but a generous nature. Neither does it, when considered with reference to the previously habitual language of both parties respecting marriage, imply any real inconsistency of character. Neither man nor woman ever railed against marriage, who had once experienced true love;-but persons of the bold and ready wit attributed to Benedick and Beatrice, and therefore the more incapable of any merely commonplace attachment, not only might very naturally sport their humour on the subject of matrimony, but would of necessity do so, until their own turn came to find an object capable of engaging their affections.

No attentive student of human nature, however, needs be told, that the character, whether male or female, that has been accustomed to jest about marriage in this particular spirit, is one of those which take any affair of genuine love most seriously to heart, and is thereby most effectually cured of that peculiar

species of levity which it has previously displayed. Just so do we find it, in the present instance, with Shakespeare's hero and heroine. The primary solicitude of each is, to remove the uneasiness of the other, by acquainting them that their love is requited; for generosity predominates in both characters, but in that of the heroine especially; whereas, had vanity been ascendant, the first desire, on either side, would have been to enjoy and to parade so signal a triumph. But Benedick, we have seen, concerns himself little about the jests that are likely to be retorted upon him by his friends after his candid avowal of his passion; and as for Beatrice herself, the like consideration seems not once to have occurred to her.

Here, in short, may be seen the first stage in the developement of that essential gravity of the two leading characters in this drama, lying under the superficial levity that masks them at the outset, which we have insisted on as forming the principal business of the piece. Our next paper will be occupied with shewing how the real seriousness of purpose, as well as heartiness of feeling, which belongs both to signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice, is brought out completely in relation to the slander and the vindication of her friend and cousin, the lady Hero. We find this latter portion of our task to be the more indispensable, seeing that the conduct of our heroine in urging her lover to challenge the man whose allegations had dishonoured, in the most ignominious way, her kinswoman and bosom. friend that very conduct which was requisite to disclose all the tenderness, energy, and magnanimity, with which the dramatist has really endowed herhas undergone, even from intelligent critics of her own sex, the most injurious misconstruction.

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3.-BENEDICK AND BEATRICE IN LOVE AND MATRIMONY.

[August 24th, 1844.]

As we have hinted already, the right interpretation of our heroine's character depends materially on a clear understanding of the spirit of those two scenes between her and Benedick, which relate to their mutual avowal of love, and their joint determination to call her cousin's accuser to account.

We see them, in the first place, repairing to the nuptials of their respective friends, Count Claudio and the lady Hero, each of them eager, not to exult in the other's humiliation, but to relieve the other's anxiety. The strange turn, however, which the bridal takes, and the tragic circumstances in which it places the intended bride, give a new interest and a fresh complication to the moral relations already subsisting between signior Benedick and the lady Beatrice. Benedick, we must observe, is no more in the secret of the supposed discovery on the part of the prince and count, and the intended repudiation, than Beatrice herself. He may well, then, be utterly confounded at Claudio's first ejaculations before the altar-"Oh, what men dare do! what men may what men daily do! not knowing what they do!"and exclaim in his turn-" How now! Interjections? Why, then, some be of laughing, as ha! ha! ha!" Like the rest of the bystanders, he remains in sheer amazement during the whole of the extraordinary accusation and ignominious rejection, merely once exclaiming, "This looks not like a nuptial,”—until the lady sinks down fainting under the stunning weight and suddenness of the blow. It is now that Beatrice first opens her lips on this occasion; and her very first words shew us that the outrageous imputation against her gentle cousin, her bosom friend, and even

do!