humor, begin a real contest of wits, incessantly teasing each other, and both to all appearances utterly forswearing love and matrimony. By an amusing plot, however, both, while deeming themselves unobserved, are made witnesses to pre-arranged conversations, from the purport of which it is intended to convince them that Beatrice is inspired with love for Benedick, and Benedick is madly in love with Beatrice. Both are deceived by the trap set for them; but nothing novel is produced thereby; they only obtaining the knowledge how their affairs are situated. The Prince of Arragon had also brought with him to Messina his bastard brother, Don John, a man discontented with himself and all the world, full of venom and rancor, who seeks pleasure in making mischief. He slanders the pure, innocent, and chaste Hero, as being a common strumpet, and proposes to convince the Prince and Claudio of the truth of his assertion by ocular proof. In the course of the night preceding the nuptials, Margaret, Hero's attending gentlewoman, clad in her mistress's garments, is induced to hold an interview with her lover, Borachio, one of Don John's followers, which might have been proof of Hero's guilt, had it really been she who had conversed with Lim. Claudio, whom the cunning rascal has induced to be a witness to this midnight meeting, becomes naturally enraged, and with youthful impetuosity, without further investigation of the charges, resolves on a terrible revenge. The marriage of Claudio with Hero is about to be solemnized, but is prevented by the artifices of Don John. In the church, in the presence of all witnesses, Claudio denounces the innocent Hero as an impure woman, and charges her with unchastity. Hero faints at the terrible accusation, her father is distracted, and the bridal company breaks up in confusion. But virtue finally is vindicated. Borachio, that follower of Don John who so vilely has aspersed the character of the noble Hero to Claudio, relates the circumstance to his companion Conrade; his story is overheard by the watch, who rush forward and take them both, the rogues, into custody. They are taken by the watchman to prison, are examined by the inimitable Dogberry, and the Sexton, who is constable of the night. The testimony of the watchman proves their connivance in the plot with Don John against Hero. The miscreant, Don John, who has attempted to escape, is retaken, and cast into prison, as a well deserved punishment. Hero, being supposed by Claudio to be dead (in consequence of the shock given at her intended wedding), had now her character fully cleared. Claudio, as an atonement for his error, agrees to marry Leonato's niece, Beatrice. The lady is accordingly introduced, veiled, but proves to be Hero herself. The marriage of the two lovers, with that also of Benedick and Beatrice, who continues her mirth to the very end, happily concludes the drama. with the humorous ones. Of course she says she don't want a husband: what girl of her type ever acknowledges she does? What does she want with a husband? In this mood she meets Benedick, and, sharp as he is among men, he cannot stand up to her. She overwhelms him with her quick repartees. But when she really finds she loves, how changed she is. When sweet Hero sinks under the cruel blow, unable to defend herself, how grandly flashes out the true and noble nature of Beatrice, worthy daughter of the gallant old Antonio. She knows Hero's pure heart. Evidence, so called! suspicion! what are they to her. "O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! " When she gives herself to her lover witty as she is to the last we know what a jewel the man has gained. The brightest and sunniest married life we see stretching before them, comfort in sorrow, doubling of joy. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. might have gleaned the material for this play, is thus far not known. The argument on which this comedy rests is the important contrast between the fresh and youthful, ever new blooming reality of life and the abstract, dry, and dead study of the strictly pedantic life. Shakespeare wrote the play, according to Malone, in 1594; according to Chalmers, in 1592. SCENE.-Laid in Navarre. ROMANCE or a drama from which our poet The young and kind-hearted Ferdinand of Navarre conceived the somewhat fantastic idea of spending, in company with three knightly followers, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, three years in strict seclusion from the outer world. In pursuance of this aim, they have sworn a sacred oath, especially binding themselves to abstain from all social intercourse with women, and to devote themselves to the study of wisdom and learning. Their plan, however, is forthwith defeated by the arrival of the fair Princess of France, with her attending ladies — Rosaline, Maria, and Katharine. This party, on account of pressing affairs of state, request an immediate audience, which cannot be denied. All these knights of wisdom and abstinence fall in love with these ladies, who are just as amiable as they are good and subtle. A quick encounter of contending wits ensues, during which the gentlemen tease and deride each other for breaking their vow, each at the same time trying to justify himself, but all aiming to win the hearts of the fair French ladies. The latter, on their part, try to cleverly defend themselves by vieing with one another in witty retorts, and by clev erly ridiculing the courtiers for their foolishly conceived but quickly violated plan of affected struggle after wisdom. Intermingled in the play, as the most amusing This play is radiant with the most brilliant wit and and diverting contrasts, are the comical episodes bethe richest humor, and sparkles throughout with the tween two bombastic and learned pedants, Holofernes poet's keen fun and raillery, reflected through Dogberry, and Nathaniel, as well as the pranks of the arrant and Verges' belief in him, with the merry passages be- knight and braggadocio, Armado, a youthful and tween Beatrice and Benedick. We cannot help feeling haughty page, who acts the part of a privileged fool. acutely, though, the needless pain caused to Hero, The entire plot of the story and of the actors is sudwhich might have been so easily avoided or lessened, denly interrupted by the announcement of the death but "when the fun is fastest the sorrow must be sad- of the sick and aged father of the Princess of France; dest." Claudio is a fine manly fellow, but a trifle too and the drama closes with a very earnest lesson, and suspicious and too easily misled, without sifting charges that, though expressed by the king in a jesting mood, against his affianced wife more thoroughly. Beatrice is is exacted by the ladies (though in another shape) as the sauciest, most piquant, sparkling, madcap girl that an expiation and for repentance. A duetto between Shakespeare ever drew, and yet she is a loving, deep- Spring and Winter (Cuckoo and Owl) makes a charmnatured, true woman, too. Sharp sayings flow from hering epilogue, which in a poetic form sheds a light over the sense and meaning of the whole. The finale of the with the same magic fluid which had already proved so comedy thus reverts back to the beginning. The London wits of the day, with their assumed consequence and abounding conceit, naturally amused the Stratford-bred Shakespeare, and parts of this, his first written play, were designed to give them a covert reproof, and to show them they could be beaten at their own weapons, by a country lad, too, and that all their city cleverness, on which they so much prided themselves, was as nothing beside good heart and work. The best speech in the play is, of course, Biron's, on the effect of love in opening men's eyes and making the world new to them. How true this is every lover since can bear witness. But still there is a "chaffiness" about it very different from the humility and earnestness of the lovers who figure in most of Shakespeare's other plays, except, perhaps, that of the worthy Benedick. The fair Rosaline, too, in her witty passages, reminds us of Beatrice. A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. THE SCENE.—Athens, and a wood not far from it. Oberon, king of the fairies, beseeches his wife, Titania, to grant to him her beautiful adopted boy as a page; and upon Titania refusing this request, he seeks to revenge himself by wetting her eyes with the sap of a flower while she is sleeping. This lotion has the magical power of causing her to become exceedingly enamored with the first being she beholds on awakening. The person whom her eyes first observe is a weaver of Athens, named Bottom, a rough and entirely illiterate man, and who has, at this time, come, with several other mechanics, to the grove, where Oberon and Titania were holding their fairy court. These artisans had entered the wood to have a rehearsal for the play of Pyramus and Thisbe, which they design to act at the nuptial festivities of Duke Theseus of Athens, who was soon to be married to Hippolyta. But before Titania's awakening, Puck, a serving spirit to Oberon, who was ever ready for fun or frolic, had, by magic, adorned the weaver, Bottom, with the head of an ass. At the time this is taking place, a young pair, Lysander and Hermia, in love with each other, had likewise hied themselves to this enchanted grove, having fled from Athens on account of the cruelty of the father of Hermia, and the strictness of the laws of Athens, which forbade their union. They are overtaken at night by Demetrius, a lover, whose suit for Hermia the father of this lady favors, and by Helena, a youthful friend of Hermia, who loves Demetrius, but finds her love rejected. Oberon, the fairy king, feels pity for fond Helena, and commands Puck to wet the eyes of the flint-hearted Demetrius efficacious on his queen, Titania. Puck, by some mistake, enchants instead Lysander, but finding out his error, also enchants Demetrius. The consequence is, that both Lysander and Demetrius, on awakening, fall in love with Helena, whom they both perceive at the same moment. As a result, Helena now thinks the declarations of both these suitors malicious mockery, while Hermia, who, meantime, had arrived upon the scene, is inconsolable to discover herself thus so suddenly deserted by the hitherto faithful Lysander. Meantime Titania has yielded to the wish of Oberon, and the latter, joyful over the reconciliation with his wife, removes the magic spells from Lysander and Bottom; only Demetrius' spell will not leave him, or rather the spell she supplied by the magic which the devoted fidelity of Helena imparts to him, whose love he now rewards in turn with his love. The Duke Theseus, of Athens, whose marriage is also about to be celebrated, obtains the consent of Hermia's father to her union with Lysander, and thus it happens that three marriage ceremonies take place, on which occasion the artisans enact their very jovial and grotesque play of Pyramus and Thisbe, which they have so faithfully and amusingly rehearsed. Congratulations and fairy dances conclude the nuptial feasts and the drama. The finest character in the play is undoubtedly Theseus, and in his noble words about the artisans' play, the true gentleman is shown. Theseus is Shakespeare's early ideal of a heroic warrior and man of action. His life is one of splendid achievement and joy; his love is a kind of happy victory; his marriage a triumph. But his wife's character is poor beside his. There is not much marked difference of character between the lovers Demetrius and Lysander, nor is there much distinction between Helena and Hermia, except that in person Helena is the taller of the two and the gentler in disposition. Though the story is Greek, yet given Shakespeare his out-door woodland life, his the play is full of English life. It is Stratford that has clowns' play, and the clowns themselves - Bottom, with his inimitable conceit, and his fellows, Snug, Quince, etc. It is Stratford that has given him all Puck's fairy lore- the pictures of the sweet country school-girls, seemingly parted and yet with a union in partition. There is exquisite imagery running through the play-a wonderful admixture, though it be, of delicate and aerial fancy beside the broadest and coarsest comedy. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. N this play our bard celebrates the idea of a univercharity, but more especially in its tenderest and most gentle emanations, as friendship, connubial love, as well as grace and mercy, in opposition to the strict tenet of the law. George Chalmers fixes 1597 as the date of this comedy, while Malone reports 1598 as the exact time of its appearance. The musical elements of this interesting drama are beautiful, numerous, and celebrated. In it is found the initial of a well-known and now proverbial eulogium on modulated sounds: "The man who has no music in his soul," etc. SCENE.-Partly in Venice and at Belmont. A rich and fair heiress named Portia, who lives at Belmont, near Venice, is, according to the last will of her father, prohibited from marrying, except the suitor who comes to woo should correctly choose one of three caskets - one of them gold, one of silver, and one of lead. The latter contains the portrait of the fair lady; and the suitor fortunate enough to choose the casket containing Portia's picture, is to be Portia's husband. Bassanio, a young nobleman of Venice, is so fortunate, and carries off the prize. But he is scarcely betrothed to his love, when he receives news from Venice telling him that his noble-hearted friend Antonio, whose generous means furnished him for his st:ccessful journey to Belmont, is completely ruined by the wreck of ships at sea, and that the bond which Antonio, in over confidence, had given to the Jew Shylock on Bassanio's account for a sum of money, could not be met when due. Shylock now insists literally on the cruel penalty provided as a forfeit — a pound of Antonio's flesh to be cut from any part the Jew pleased to take it. Bassanio, supplied by his bride with ample means, and presented with a ring which he vowed to her he never would part with, hastens towards Venice to the rescue of his friend. Portia, his spirited lady love, meanwhile, procures for herself, | by the aid of a renowned lawyer, who is a friend of her family, letters of introduction, and thus fortified, and in the disguise of a Doctor of Laws, is introduced to the Duke of Venice as a lawyer who would be able, even in such a difficult case as that now pending between the merchant of Venice and the Jew Shylock, to decide in strict accord with the laws of Venice, and yet, withal, in the interest of human equity. By virtue of Portia's ingenious sagacity, Antonio, the unfortunate merchant who had become security for her husband Bassanio, is rescued from his cruel persecutor. In her disguise as an advocate of law, Portia refuses every offer of reward, but requests and finally obtains from the unwilling Bassanio that ring which she had given to him on his departure from her, under the most solemn vows never to part with it. The same scene is likewise enacted by her waiting-maid Nerissa, who is in the disguise of an attending clerk, and who is betrothed to Bassanio's friend and companion Gratiano. Portia and her waiting maid now hasten to their home. They arrived at Belmont before their husbands, whose embarrassment on account of their having parted with their rings, the pledges of their love, causes great railing and merriment, until finally the entire intrigue is explained. Through the play is interspersed the suit, elopement, and marriage of Jessica, the daughter of Shylock, who, converted to Christianity, becomes the wife of Lorenzo, a young Venetian for whom Portia, in her role as counsellor of law, obtains the legal right to inherit the fortune of his unwilling father-in-law, Shylock. Cruel and repulsive as the character of the latter appears in the story, the thoughtful reader cannot help but sometimes pity him as one of the persecuted Jewish race, a race often embittered and driven to desperation by the remorseless cruelty practised towards them by the peoples and laws of the Middle Ages. To understand the plot of this play, which is complicated, by three points, we have, first the main point in the history of the forfeited bond; then a secondary plot, the affair of the three caskets, and, as a final episode, the elopement of Jessica and Lorenzo. A true and noble woman the poet portrays in Portia. In the language of Jessica, "the rude world has not her fellow," and to this all who have studied the play will agree, echoing the words of Mrs. Fanny Kemble, when she says, "Shakespeare's Portia, then, as now, is my ideal of a perfect woman." She is one of those women that the poet shows us first in gloom and then brings into the sunshine of love. She is gloomy, naturally, at the momentous chance that her fate hangs on, until it gives her the man she loves. She has wit and humor, and good judgment, too. She is unselfish, for she allows her husband to leave her so soon to save his friend. Note her quick insight and wit; on the call for action, her self-reliance; the admirable handling of her case in court; the reserving of her power to the last, hoping to raise Shylock to the nobleness she would have him reach. See how the essence of all the virtues of woman is in her speech for mercy, which will echo through all time. In the trial scene she keeps her happy, roguish humor, chaffing her husband about giving her up, and insisting on his ring (this latter scene is remarkably effective on the stage). No words can praise Portia too highly. Jessica, "the most beautiful pagan and most sweet Jew," is romantic and impulsive. Love is her ruling passion, as greed is that of her father's. Antonio is a noble gentleman. There is a beautiful and touching unselfishness about him, as note his message to Bassanio, who was a fine enough fellow, but far inferior as a character to the woman whose love he won. In Shylock, we have the embittered hate of ages of cruelty and oppression flaming up to strike when chance allowed it. AS YOU LIKE IT. See Page 170. THE material of this play the poet gleaned from the story entitled "Rosalinde, Euphues Golden Legacie, etc.," which its author, Thomas Lodge, wrote at sea, on a voyage to the Canary Islands. The drama was written in 1600, when Shakespeare was thirty-six years old. There are various remarks on music and several songs embodied in this comedy. SCENE.-Is laid first near Oliver's house; afterwards in the usurper's court, and in the forest of Arden. A French duke, who had been deposed and banished by his younger brother Frederick, withdrew with a few faithful followers to the forest of Arden, leaving his only daughter Rosalind at the court of the usurper as a companion of the latter's only daughter Celia: these ladies love each other like sisters. This affection which subsisted between them was not in the least interrupted by the disagreement between the fathers, and becomes not the less tender when Rosalind falls in love with the brave Orlando, who, in a wrestling match with a hitherto unexcelled athlete, wins the victory in the presence of the assembled court; but Orlando having learned from Adam, his father's aged steward, of the deadly enmity of his older brother Oliver, seeks safety in flight. Adam affectionately accompanies him, and proffers Orlando the money he has saved. But the faithful servant, through infirmity and fatigue, is unable to proceed far on the journey. Orlando cheers his drooping spirits and urges him to go forward. The older brother, Oliver, was charged by the usurping duke with having aided the flight of Orlando, and the duke orders him to arrest and bring back the fugitives. Rosalind, having been banished from her uncle's court, left it clad in the disguise of a page, and chance led her towards the forest of Arden. Celia, the usurping duke's daughter, loving Rosalind tenderly, accompanied her in her flight in the garb of a shepherdess. More for the purpose of pastime and sport than for protection, the two ladies entreat the clown Touchstone to flee with them. Arrived at the forest of Arden, they purchase from a shepherd his estate with house and herd, and still disguised live there for a time as brother and sister, when they are agreeably surprised by the arrival of Orlando, who has joined the followers of the banished duke. Rosalind then hears from Orlando's brother Oliver an account of Orlando being wounded, and, seeing the bloody handkerchief which he has sent her as a proof of his attachment, faints in the arms of Celia. Rosalind, after having assured herself of the love and constancy of the knightly Orlando, fully bestows her affections on him, and with the consent of her father, to whom she has made herself known, is wedded to him. The contrite Oliver, who owes his life to the valor and courage of his brother Orlando (who rescued him twice, while travelling through the country, from the fangs of a serpent, and again from a lion while asleep in the forest of Arden), marries the fair Celia, with whom he has fallen in love at first sight. Meantime, Duke Frederick, becoming alarmed at the large number of his subjects who are leaving for his brother's support, marches at the head of an army to the Arden forest to annihilate the followers of the deposed duke. At the outskirts of the forest, however, the usurper is met by a pious hermit, who beseeches him to desist from his cruel undertaking. Stung by his conscience, he voluntarily restores the dukedom to his brother, and resolves to spend the remainder of his life in a religious house. A messenger proclaiming this resolve is sent by the now penitent duke to his brother, who again ascends his throne, while all the banished courtiers return to the city and are restored to their former dignities-all but the melancholy Jaques, who, disgusted with worldly show, goes into retirement. This story goes back to the old Robin Hood spirit of England, to the love of country, of forest, and of adventure. Rosalind's rippling laughter comes to us from the far-off woodland glades, and the wedded couple's sweet content reaches us as a strain of distant melody. Miss Baillie says of Rosalind: "The way in which she delights in teasing Orlando is essentially womanly. There are many women who take unaccountable pleasure in causing pain to those they love, for the sake of healing it afterwards." Rosalind is fair, pink-cheeked, and impulsive; what she thinks she must speak out, true woman as she is. There is a great want in her life; but she meets Orlando, and the want is filled by love. It was she who planned this country expedition, and, though she could find it in her heart to cry like a woman, she feels she must comfort poor Celia as the weaker vessel. But sad as she is, she needs only the news of Orlando's nearness to throw off her melancholy instantly, and to jump into the liveliest of gay humors; and the deliciously sprightly fun of her chaff of Orlando is unsurpassable. Orlando is a fine young fellow with whom we all must sympathize; there is such a charm in his manliness, and there is, too, a freshness about him and the energy of a healthy, active life. Oliver is a poor creature; but whitewashed, and reformed, we believe he made a good husband to Celia "the tender and true." The melancholy Jaques gets off some immortally excellent things of the philosophizing kind, as note his exquisite words on the "Seven Ages of Man." Touchstone's fun with Corin the shepherd and William is most amusing; to quote Miss Baillie again: "He is undoubtedly slightly cracked; but then the very cracks in his brain are chinks which lot in the light." is THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. See Page 190. of which is unknown, although even the dialogue HIS comedy is founded on an old play, the author partly kept intact in our poet's production. But the change Shakespeare wrought is so complete that the play must be acknowledged as only his. It originated in 1596, or possibly a few years earlier. In The Taming of the Shrew no other use is made of music than to introduce minstrels at the wedding. SCENE.-At times in Padua and in Petruchio's country-house. The plot of the drama is as follows: A lord on his return from the chase finds a drunken tinker, named Sly, asleep on a bench before an ale-house. For the sake of sport, the lord orders him carried to his own rooms, where Sly is dressed in costly garments and placed in one of his finest beds. When the drunkard wakes he finds himself surrounded by the attending servants, who succeed in making him believe that he is a nobleman who had for many years suffered from insanity. Upon the introduction of a train of players, Sly becomes convinced that he is really a lord, and they are ordered to entertain him with the enactment of a comedy, the purport of which is about the following: A rich gentleman of Padua, named Baptista, has two daughters, Katharina (Kate) and Bianca; but the father refuses to listen to the suitors of the younger daughter until Katharina, the older sister, is married. Katharina's fiery temper has caused her to be known as the Shrew, and her loud-tongued scolding frightened every suitor away. The wooers of Bianca, although, as rivals, much inclined to look at each other with unfavorable eyes, yet agree to make common cause, and that each endeavor to procure a husband for Katharina. In this they are fortunate in finding a gentleman named Petruchio, himself heir to rich estates, and who has come especially to Padua for the purpose of forming a suitable marriage. By virtue of his burlesquelytender actions, he determined to break Kate's haughty temper, and by an affectation of continued violence frighten her into submission to his will. Grumio, Petruchio's servant, comically assists him in this effort. Katharina, finding at last opposition vain, becomes the dutiful wife, and Petruchio, finding her obedient to his most absurdly assumed whims, professes his affection and drops the part of the tyrant. Meanwhile Lucentio, a nobleman of Pisa, has succeeded, under the guise of a teacher, in gaining access to Bianca, and has used the hours ostensibly devoted to instruction for the purpose of exchanging declarations of love, while his servant, Tranio, assuming his master's name and address, attends to all further affairs which are necessary to forward the intentions of Lucentio. To make this certain, the presence of Lucentio's father, by the scheme of Tranio, is to be represented by a travelling schoolmaster; but at this critical moment the real father of Lucentio arrives quite unexpectedly at Padua, and meets on the street the servant of his son in the latter's dress. Tranio has the temerity not to recognize the father of his master as such, and is about to be taken to prison by an officer of the law, when Lucentio, who meanwhile had been secretly married to Bianca, opportunely appears with his bride by his side, and effects a general reconciliation. Gremio, the oldest of Bianca's rejected suitors, is satisfied with receiving an invitation to be the guest at the festivities in honor of the wedding; Hortensio, the younger lover, seeks consolation by marrying a young widow, and takes formal lessons from Petruchio in the art of Taming the Shrew. Petruchio's young wife, the fiery Katharina, carries finally the prize away as the most submissive wife of the three, and, because of her amiability and goodness, receives from her father a largely increased dowry. The fair Kate, the shrew, stands boldly out in marked individuality. She has been brought up a spoiled child, strong-willed, and overindulged by her father's weakness and her sister's gentleness. Then she may be said to have a grievance, for she is not to be married, while her mild sister is. She is soured by neglect, and bullies her sister from envy. Petruchio comes; he admires her, and she likes him, too, as the first man who has had the nerve to overrule and attempt tó control her. She is bewildered by his assurance and coolness, while conscious that she has forfeited, by her childish bad temper, a woman's right to chivalrous courtesy, and she feels she has no right to complain of her lover's roughness. As a woman, too, she likes the promise of finery, and decides to marry him; even has learned, by this time, to love him, as note how she cries when he comes late. Having got him, she is baulked of the wedding feast (cruellest of all blows for a bride). Under the influence of the wedding, she is so tender, at first, that we almost regret that Petruchio had not taken advantage of this tenderness, and tried taming by love; but then, if he had, we should have lost some of the very best scenes of the play. However, Kate decides to stand up for her rights, and how she is defeated and humbled, and finally gives up the effort, becoming the model wife, the story relates. Petruchio really makes himself, for effect, worse than he is. He is one of those determined men that like the spice of temper in a woman, knowing the power in him to subdue. He teases and tantalizes Kate in such a pleasant, madcap fashion, that we like him, although, probably, he tries her too far and too severely. No doubt they proved a happy couple. Kate could obey Petruchio with a will, for he had fairly beaten her at her own game, and won her respect. Grumio is an excellent comic character, one of the best of the kind from Shakespeare's pen. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. See Page.210. Encouraged by the countess, to whom she had confided her love, she journeys to Paris, and succeeds in inducing the king to confide in her method of curing him. She agrees to suffer condign punishment in case she shall not succeed in restoring the king's health; on the other hand, should she cure the monarch, he promises that she shall be married to the man of her choice, and besides receive a rich dowry. Under her ministering care the king recovers entirely, and chooses the young Count of Rousillon for her spouse, who, despite all unwillingness and resistance at first, finally yields to the behests of his sovereign, and is married to Helena. Bertram has no affinity for his young wife, and moreover considers their marriage a mésalliance, flees from Helena soon after the marriage ceremony is over, and hies himself to Florence, where he enters the service as a soldier-meanwhile informing Helena by letter that she should never again see him in France, nor greet him as her husband, until she could wear on her finger the ring which he claims to have inherited from his ancestors as a family relic, and could nurture a child of his paternity on her breast. Despite these two seemingly impossible conditions, Helena does not despair in her hope and love. Without his knowledge, she follows her truant lord, reaching Florence in disguise, where, with the assistance of the chaste daughter of an honest widow named Diana, she is soon in a condition to demand the fulfilment of her husband's strange conditions, and returns to France simultaneously with Bertram, where she has been announced as dead. As soon as the count is convinced of the truth of her assertions, he is thrilled with manly emotion at such enduring love, and, in rapture over her high-spirited devotion, clasps Helena in his arms, henceforth bestowing all his affection on her. The unmasking and punishment of a villain named Parolles, a follower of Bertram, forms a diverting entertainment and an embellishment to the scenes, an episode of which calls to mind some of the parts of Falstaff's experience. In this play the object of Shakespeare was no doubt, covertly, to teach a lesson to the English people on the pride of birth, in the poor, lowly-born Helena, richest and highest in the noblest qualities, and proving also how much true love could take a woman through unspotted and unsmirched. Coleridge calls Helena "Shakespeare's loveliest character;" and Mrs. Jameson says: "There never was, perhaps, a more beautiful picture of a woman's love, cherished in secret, not self-consuming in silent languishment, not desponding over its idol, but patient and hopeful, strong in its own MALONE supposes this drama was composed in intensity, and sustained by its own fond faith. Her the year 1606. The story was originally taken from Boccacio, but came more immediately to Shakespeare from Painter's "Giletta of Narbon," in the first volume of the "Palace of Pleasure." Of this comedy there is no edition earlier than the first folio. The music of this play consists of flourish of cornets, marches, and sound of trumpets. SCENE.-Partly in France and Tuscany. Helena, a gentlewoman, the daughter of an eminent deceased physician, lives with the widowed Countess Rousillon, whose son she passionately loves. The young Count Bertram of Rousillon has to obey the command of his liege lord, and moves to his court. The king suffers from a disease which baffles the skill and the medicines of the physicians, so that they, as well as the king himself, despair of a cure. Helena, however, has with the inheritance from her father come in possession of an almost infallible remedy. | love is like a religion -- pure, holy, deep. The faith of her affection combining with the natural energy of her character, believing all things possible makes them so." Quick as she is to see through Parolles, she cannot see through Bertram, for love blinds her eyes. How beautiful is the confession of her love to Bertram's mother; and what a fool Bertram appears in leaving his sweet, unselfish young wife, and how his brutal letter only brings out by contrast her truth and nobleness. How earnestly she wants to save him. She knows the urgence of his "important blood," and takes advantage of it to work a lawful meaning in a lawful act, and so, without disgrace, fulfils the condition her husband's baseness has made precedent to her reunion with him. Shakespeare has, indeed, proved in the character of Bertram (one who prides himself on his noble birth) its worthlessness, unless beneath a noble name rested a noble soul. Bertram, to speak mildly, is a snob, a liar, and a sneak, and it requires all the love of the |