actors, we know that in the opinion of the ancient critics the plays of Aristophanes suffered from similar interpolations. But in the case of Shakespeare we have, at least in this instance, no his torical information. If this Clown diverted an Elizabethan audience, we can only, like Mr. Pickwick in the matter of Mr. Peter Magnus's friends, envy their readiness to be amused.

Another feature in the play which tempts the Higher Criticism is the recurrence of incidents and situations which Shakespeare uses elsewhere. The very distasteful artifice by which Helena finally wins Bertram is the stratagem by which Mariana secures Angelo. Used once, by an incidental character, it is used once too often. Employed by a heroine with whom we are to sympathize, the plan is repulsive. But Shakespeare has a habit of repeating himself. Sydney Smith complained to Constable that in every novel of Scott's, from Guy Mannering to The Fortunes of Nigel, there occurred a Meg Merrilies. "She is good," he said, "but good too often." In a similar way Shakespeare constantly introduces his heroine disguised as a man, and his utterly selfish and heartless jeune premier. There is Claudio in Much Ado about Nothing; there is the "flower-like young man of Measure for Measure; there is Bertram here, in All's Well that Ends Well. It is possible that Shakespeare was much impressed by the stupid pride, levity, and heartlessness of the young noblesse; he was obliged to make heroes of them, but he shows them for heroes very unheroic. They are almost always unworthy of the love with which women persecute them. From "Venus and Adonis" onward, Shakespeare treats, and not without liking, the pursuit by the woman of the man. The circumstance occurs frequently enough in life, but it is never agreeable to watch. Every one would prefer the worm in the bud to feed on the damask cheek rather than to see

"One does not take to it heartily, and can hardly admire it without something of an effort." It is difficult to believe in admiration which is not spontaneous. As we must keep repeating, Shakespeare was human, after all. He wrote nothing in which there were not admirable passages worthy of himself. But we, like Ben Jonson, should love him "on this side idolatry." Criticism is absolutely worthless if it is not sincere. We are not to read Shakespeare as if he were infallible, nor to accept all he did in a spirit of blind and unquestioning faith. At the same time we must remember, in speaking of so divine a genius, what Pope says of others that blamed as great a mind,

"It is not Homer nods, but we who dream."

There have been found critics who believed to the utmost in All's Well that Ends Well. Hazlitt says: "It is one of the most pleasing of our author's comedies....The character of Helena is one of great sweetness and delicacy. She is placed in circumstances of the most critical kind, and has to court her husband both as a virgin and as a wife; yet the most scrupulous delicacy of female modesty is not once violated." Why, female modesty is violated constantly by Helena. Her banter with Parolles appears quite out of keeping with delicacy as estimated by the taste of any age. It is impossible to think of Antigone or Isabella or Imogen laughing over Helena's chosen topic with Parolles. She possesses the “union of tenderness and strength" which Mrs. Jamieson admires in her. She deliberately places herself in the "lowest and ugliest situation." She thrusts herself on a man who, being, it appears, the King's ward, cannot refuse any match which the King imposes on him. She is the thief, not of love, but of lust. treats Bertram as Gunnar treats Brynhild in the saga. The situation is none of Shakespeare's making; he borrowed it from Boccaccio. But, to be frank, the situation is at once hideous and wholly out of keeping with Helena's character as it appears in her conversation with the Countess of Rousillon, Bertram's mother, or in her own matchless soliloquy.

She

Bertram is leaving Rousillon for the court at Paris. Helena, the daughter of Gerard de Narbon, the physician, has been brought up by the Countess. She