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sometimes giving an entire extract from the unacted plays of our author may with one class of readers have almost the use of restoring a lost passage : and may serve to convince another class of critics, that the poet's genius was not confined to the production of stage effect by preternatural means.

“ l'hysses. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back,
• Wherein he puts alms for Oblivion;

A great-sir'd monster of ingratitudes :
Those scraps are good deeds past,
Which are devour'd as fast as they are made,
Forgot as soon as done : Persev'rance, dear my lord,
Keeps Honor bright: to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way;
For Honor travels in a strast to narrow,
Where one but goes abreast ; keep thea the path,
For Emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue; if you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forth-right,
Like to an entered tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost ,-
Or, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank,
O'er-run and trampled on: then what do they in present
Tho' less than yours in past, most o'ertap yours;
For time is like a fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting quest by th' hand,
And with his arms out-stretrhed, as he would fly,
Graspe in the comer : the Welcome ever stuiles,
And Farewell goes out sughing. O, let not virtue wek
Remuneration for the thing it was ; for beauty, wit,
High birth, rigor of bone, desert in servire,
Lore, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envous and calumniating time:
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.
That all, with ote consent, praise bew-born gaude,
Tho' they are made and moulded of things past.
The present eye praises the present object
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax ;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eve,
Than what not stin, The cry went out on thee,
Ani sull it might, and yet u may again,
If tho would'st but entimb thywell alive,
And car thy reputaton in thy tent **

The throng of images in the above lines is prodigious; and though they sometimes jostle against one another, they every. where raise and carry on the feeling, which is metaphysically true and profound. The debates between the Trojan chiefs on the restoring of Helen are full of knowledge of human motives and character. Troilus enters well into the philosophy of war, when he says, in answer to something that falls from Hector

“Why there you touch'd the life of our design:
Were it not glory that we more affected,
Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honor and renown,

A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds.” The character of Hector, in the few slight indications which appear of it, is made very amiable. His death is sublime, and shows in a striking light the mixture of barbarity and heroism of the age. The threats of Achilles are fatal; they carry their own means of execution with them.

“Come here about me, you my myrmidons,
Mark what I say.–Attend me where I wheel :
Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath ;
And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Empale him with your weapons round about:
In fellest manner execute your arms.
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye.”

He then finds Hector and slays him, as if he had been hunt. ing down a wild beast. There is something revolting as well as terrific in the ferocious coolness with which he singles out his prey: nor does the splendor of the achievement reconcile us to the cruelty of the means.

The characters of Cressida and Pandarus are very amusing and instructive. The disinterested willingness of Pandarus to Erve his friend in an affair which lies next his heart is immedi. asey brought forward. “Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way; Lad I a sister were a grace, or a daughter were a goddess, he sboald take his choice. O admirable man! Paris, Paris is dirt to him, and I warrant Helen, to change, would give money to boot." This is the language he addresses to his niece: nor is she much behind-hand in coming into the plot. Her head is as light and fluttering as her heart." It is the prettiest villain, she fetches her breath so short as a new ta'en-sparrow.” Both cha. racters are originals, and quite ditierent from what they are in Chaucer. In Chaucer, Cressida is represented as a grave, sober, considerate personage (a widow-he cannot tell her age, nor whether she has children or no), who has an alternate eye to her character, her interest, and her pleasure. Shakspeare's Cressida is a giddy girl, an unpractised jilt, who falls in love with Troilus, as she afterwards deserts him, from mere levity and thoughtlessness of temper. She may be woved and won to any. thing and from anything, at a moment's warning: the other know's very well what she would be at, and sticks to it, and is a more governed by substantial reasons than by caprice or vanity, Pandarus again, in Chaucer's story, is a friendly sort of gobetween, tolerably busy, officious, and forward in bringing mal. ters to bear; but in Shakspeare he has "a stamp exclusive and professional:" he wears the badge of his trade; he is a regular knight of the game. The difference of the manner in which the subject is treated aris perhaps less from intention, than from the different genius of the iwo pets. There is no double entendre in the characters of Chaucer: they are either quite seri. ous or quite comie. In Shakprare the ludicrous and ironical are constantly blended with the stately and the impassioned. We see Chaucer's characters as they saw themselves, not as they appeared to others or might bave appeared to the poet. Ile is as deeply implicated in the atlairs of his personages as they could be themselves. He had to go a long journey with each of them, and became a kind of necessary confidant. There is little relief, or light and shade, in his pictures. The conscious sınıle is not seen lurking under the brow of grief or impatience. Everything with him is intense and continuous-- working out of what went before. Shakspeare never committed htmself toi: his characters. He tried, laughed, or wept with them as he chose. He has no prejudices for or against them; and a sem * matter of perfect mulerence bether he shall be in jest or

carnest. According to him, “the web of our lives is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together.” His genius was dramatic, as Chaucer's was historical. He saw both sides of a question, the dif

a ferent views taken of it according to the different interests of the parties concerned, and he was at once an actor and spectator in the scene. If anything, he is too various and flexible ; too full of transitions, of glancing lights, of salient points. If Chau. cer followed up his subject too doggedly, perhaps Shakspeare was too volatile and heedless. The Muse's wing too often lifted him off his feet. He made infinite excursions to the right and the left.

“ He hath done
Mad and fantastic execution,
Engaging and redeeming of himself
With such a careless force and forceless care,
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
Bad him win all.”

Chaucer attended chiefly to the real and natural, that is, to the involuntary and inevitable impressions on the mind in given circumstances. Shakspeare exhibited also the possible and the fantastical, not only what things are in themselves, but whatever they might seem to be, their different reflections, their endless ccombinations. He lent his fancy, wit, invention, to others, and borrowed their feelings in return. Chaucer excelled in the force of habitual sentiment; Shakspeare added to it every variety of Passion, every suggestion of thought or accident. Chaucer de. scribed external objects with the eye of a painter, or he might be said to have embodied them with the hand of a sculptor, sery part is so thoroughly made out, and tangible -Shak. speare's imagination threw over them a lustre

-"Prouder than when blue Iris bends."

Everything in Chaucer has a downright reality. A simile or . sentiment is as if it were given in upon evidence. In Shak. are the commonest matter-of-fact has a romantic grace about •; or seems to float with the breath of imagination in a freer Ezment. No one could have more depth of feeling or observa.

tion than Chaucer, but he wanted resources of invention to lay open the stores of nature or the human heart with the same radi. ant light that Shakspeare has done. However fine or profound the thought, we know what was coming, whereas the etlect of reading Shakspeare is "like the eye of vassalage encountering majesty." Chaucer's mind was consecutive, rather than dis. cursive. He arrived at truth through a certain process; Shak. speare saw everything by intuition. Chaucer had great variety of power, but he could do only one thing at once. He set him. self to work on a particular subject. His ideas were kept sepa. rate, labelled, ticketed and parcelled out in a set form, in pews and compartments by themselves. They did not play into one another's hands. They did not re-act upon one another, as the blower's breath moulds the yielding glass. There is something hard and dry in them. What is the most wonderful thing in Shakspeare's faculties is their excessive sociability, and how they gossiped and compared notes together.

We must conclude this criticism; and we will do it with a quotation or two. One of the most beautiful passages in Chau. cer's tale is the description of Cresseide's first avowal of her love.

" And as the new abashed nightingale,
That stinteth first when she bezinneth sing,
When that she heareth any heride's tale,
Or in the hedges any wight stirring,
And, after, hacker doth ber vuxe outringi
Right so (traseide, when that ber dread strat,

Opeurd her beart, and toid him ber antest." See also the two next stanzas, and particularly that divine one beginning

* Her arthés snail, ber bark buth straight and .." &c.

Cumpare this with the whwing spach of Tribun to (wila in the play.

"O, that I thoucht it could be in a wihan, And if it can, I will presume in you.

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