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cual be mute--not till Caroline Bowles
om- has joined her sister-seraphs in hea.
and Ten!
OW-

It may be all very well for you to t of say so, who are an elderly unmarried dogs man, with a worthy widow woman

But for your housekeeper. No doubt she hole has been exhausted long since-and and during the process of her exhaustion

, muel many a bottle, too, of ratifia. But in

the woman's heart know that there are s com- thousand springs one and all ineris of haustible, though they keep flowing ssed for ever. Woe to the hand that infrom fuses bitterness there, for in nature ng all they are most sweet; toe to the hand rd of that muddies them, for untroubled 1, of they are limpid at their source 29 etting when given back in dew from het pira- ren to earth, dropt tremblingis on pany, the rose's leaf in the breathless twiwere light!

poor We cannot bid farewell to the “Cisbetter racters of the Affections” so beautio

e per- fully developed in our last Number
nt for by the most enlightened eulogist
d the of Shakspeare's loreliest idealities
satis. Hermione !
at in
were

" A perfect woman, nobly plano'd
core
To warn, to comfort

, and command!"
for it Yet warning, comforting, and.com
o the manding all in vain-such the in-
ires. fatuated jealousy of her unworths
Tere lord. 'Tis the meanest--the basest
?be- of all passions when causelessly it
Wo- inflames a narrow and a
hea. heart
. Invading a large heart

, is
I the like a grim army of demons--terri-
eau. ble. Shall conjugal lore not exulting
and ly enjoy the privilege of friendship
Des. Next to her husband Leontes, is Po-
'est, lixenes, the brother of his soul

, dear
su- to Hermione. To Sicily sacred is
th's her life to Bohemia her band is

heart of her one princely boy has And pray your mother's blessing! Turin burst-it is broken-and he is dead good lady! of the passion of sbame-not for his Our Perdita is found. mother's sake so much as his fa Herm. You gods, look down, ther's,

And from your sacred vials pour your

graces -"the young Prince, whose honourable

Upon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine thoughts,

own, Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the

Where hast thou been preserved? Where heart

lived? How found That could conceive, a gross and foolish

Thy father's court? For thou shalt hear sire

that I, Blemished his gracious dam!"

Knowing by Paulina that the oracle Her one royal girl is exposed to pe

Gave hope thou wast in being, have prerish; and how touchingly is that story

served told by Antigonus, soliloquizing iná Myself to see the issue.” desert country near the sea ! In What says Hermione to Leontes the lustre of virtue, and the gloom on their reunion ? Not one word. of agony, the childless widow-for But Polixenes says, “ She embraces though forgiving her husband all, she him;" and Camillo, “She hangs upon has pronounced a solemn divorce- his neck! If she pertain to life, let retires into seclusion from love and her speak too.” The statue has stirlife, deep, dark, and incommunicable red-moved-descended—and emas the grave. Into that sixteen years' braced; but it is yet silent. Camillo penance~not for her own sin, for seems almost to discredit his eyes. she is pure, but for her husband's, He doubts" if she pertain to life.” with whom she doubtless has vowed “Let her speak!” and her first found to be reconciled on the bed of death words are a prayer to the gods to (but Heaven brings, in its own good bless her daughter. She does not time, a more blissful reconciliation) doubt that it is her daughter. The --imagination fears, in its reverence, faithful Paulina has told her it is; even for one moment to enter. It could and the Oracle, who had pronounnot have been wholly unhappy, self- ced herself innocent, would not, she sustained as Hermione was by her knew, have beguiled her with false devotion to one holy purpose; and hopes that her child was in being. that she acted right all hearts feel on This is Hope-and this is Faith-and her wondrous reappearance among this the peace that passeth all unthe living as from the dead. That is derstanding--is their reward. the moment when we should have We have been somewhat too hard felt that Shakspeare had erred, if on poor Leontes. We must not blame erred he had, in that her long supless bim for baving breathed a disease. immurement. But our whole nature He has dree'd a rueful punishment. leaps up in a fit of joy, to hail the All the atonement that could be made apparition; and, seeing that Hermi- for his crime he did make-and the one lives, we forgive Leontes, and heavens had been long hung with sympathize with his undeserved hap- black over his head. His crown was piness, for sake of her standing there worthless in his eyes—his throne serenely and spiritually beautiful, the seat of misery. Never for one whom we in our ignorance had idly day, we may believe, had he not been mourned as long ago blended with haunted by the ghost of his little son, the insensate dust.

who died of a broken heart-of the When Hermione comes down from baby exposed in the wild, and never the pedestal, passionate as is the heard of any niore, either she or Anjoy of Leontes witnessing that appa- tigonus. When Paulina says to him, rent miracle, it is but on her alone on the arrival of Florizel at his court, that we gaze and think. Paulina, not abruptly, but boldly, as was na

“ Had our Prince, tural to her fearless character, says,

Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had

paired “ Hark a little while.

Well with this lord; there was not full a Please you to interpose, fair madam ; month kneel,

Between their births,

shallow

ren open. Of friendship she is lavish

its as of lore, and both are clear as day
not in lier holy innocence. But in the
lias midst of her stately happiness, the

Queen, the matron, and the mother,
rt, is corered all at once with dishonour
er as with a garment. Odious in her hus
r. band's eyes, before ours she waves
brighter
and more bright"with

some
d thing of an angel light." Disbelieved
r but

by one human being, she appeals
o to Heaven, and Hearen declares her !
csinless. At such a crisis of her fate,
r conscience communes willingly with

the sky, and we are not startled by
the su lime fiction of the response

pfer Oracle. The

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look'd on,

01:

Leonies.

Prythee, no more! were preternaturally beating in his
Thou knowest

heart, says, He dies to me again when talk'd of."

« Proceed! Paulina! thou wast bitter there-and

No foot shall stir." what a pang was thine, Leontes ! We almost love Leontes, in spite of On receiving her embrace, he utters his old sin, for his reception of Flo

but a very few words, by joy struck rizel.

mute. It would be unchristian not

to forgive Leontes. “ Leontes. The blessed gods

Sweet Imogen ! why madest thou Purge all infection froin our air, whilst you with Posthumus a clandestine marDo climate liere ! You have a holy father, riage ? Because the queen was a A graceful gentleman; against wbose wicked and cruel stepmother, and person,

would have cared no more to poison So sacred as it is, I have done sin ;

thee in the palace than a rat. No For which the heavens, taking angry note, blame attaches to a daughter on acHave left me issueless; and your father's count of any virtuous love-affair, blessed

who has a bad mother. But, besides, (As hie from heaven merits it) with you,

the provocation she suffered from orthy his goodness. What might I have that clumsy calf Cloten was loath

been, Might I a son and daughter now have of the manly Leonatus. For we are

some, and loveable was the embrace

assured on the word of a “gentleSuch goodly things as you !"

man," that he was His love for Hermione, whom, as

" a creature such Paulina somewhat harshly tells him, As, to seek through the regions of the he had “ killed,” suffers no abate

earth ment any more than his repentance For one his like, there would be someand his remorse. They are all alike sincere. The memory of her beauty In him that should compare.

thing failing

I do not is fresh as ever after all those long,

think, dreary, and dismal years; and when So fair an outward, and such stuff within, Paulina says to him, as he gazes on Endows a man but he.” Perdita, ere she is known by him to

" All the learning that liis time be his daughter,

Could make him the receiver of he took

As we do air, fast as 'cwas minister'd, and " Sir, my liege,

In his spring became a harvest; lived in Your eye hatli too much youth in't; not

court, a month

(Which rare it is to do,) most praised, 'Fore your queen died, she was more

most loved ; worth such gazes

A sample to the youngest; to the more Than wkat you look on now !"

mature, He answers meekly,

A glass that feated them; and to the

graver, I thought of her

A child that guided dotards; to his misEven in these looks I made !"

tress,

For whom lie now is banish'd, her own And how could he help it ? For we price are told afterwards of " the majesty Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his of the creature in resemblance of the

virtue ; mother.” His silence on first bebold By her election may be truly read, ing the supposed statue of Hermione,

What kind of man he is.” which he bad brought Perdita to look at along with him, is affecting;

Fair reader, canst thou blame Imobis ejaculations, broken and passion- gen? and hear how tenderly her ate, are so too; and when Paulina, husband speaks to her on the eve of as he offers to kiss the statue, tells

his banishment. him to refrain, for that she will make

“My queen! my mistress! it more, indeed descend, and take

O lady! weep no more; lest I give cause him by the hand, while all who think it unlawful business may depart,

To be suspected of more tenderness

Than doth become a man!" Leontes, as if some wild dim hope

" Write, my queen!

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lo.

ce! were preternaturally beating in his heart, says,

“ Píoceed! and No foot shall stir.'' es! of

On receiving her embrace, he utters but a very few words, by joy struck mute. It would be unchristian not to forgire Leontes.

Sweet INOGEN ! why madest thou you with Posthumus a clandestine marter, riage? Because the queen was a ose wicked and cruel stepmother

, and would have cared no more to poison

thee in the palace than a rat. No zote, blame attaches to a daughter on acher's

count of any virtuous lore-affair,

who has a bad mother. But, besides, you, the provocation she suffered from

that clumsy calf Cloten was loathhaus

of the manly Leonatus. For we are assured on the word of a “ gentle

some, and loveable was the embrace

man,” that he was

7, as

him, bate

2 creature such
As, to seek through the regions of the

earth
ance For one bis like, there would be som?-
alike

thing failing
auty In him that should compare. I do not
ong,

think,
rhen So fair an outward, and such stuff writhio,
s on Endows a man but he."
to

All the learning tliat his time
Could make him the receiver of he took
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd, and

In bis spring became a barvest; lived in
not

court,
(Which rare it is to do,) most praised,

most loved;
A sample to the youngest; to the more

mature,
A glass that feated them; and to the

graver,
A child that guided dotards; to his mis-

tress,
For whom he now is banish darlier onn
ve
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his

virtue;
1. By her election may be truly read,

What kind of man he is.

more

" Sir,

swers

I were

atus

And with mine eyes I'll drink the words And sets it so very bright a jewel you send,

the crown of wedded faith to turn Though ink be made of gall !"

deaf ear to the seducer? It sets non But to deceive her father! The very it did ; but above the blackness o

at all. Nor thought Shakspeare tha contrary is the truth. Cymbeline lachimo's guilt the soul of Imoge second-wife-ridden-wished her to

“ star-bright appears." The cun marry Cloten-but Imogen “ chose an eagle, and did avoid å puttock." ning of the serpent serves to shew th What else could his majesty expect? simplicity stronger to guard that holy She tells him plainly, in justification simplicity stronger to guard that holy

bosom, than a sevenfold shield o of herself and husband,

ethereal temper. No temptation bac

she to sin. The “ yellow lachimo' It is your fault that I have loved Post

was even a greater fool than knave humus:

He knew not that You bred him as my play-fellow; and he is

“ Virtue never may be mored, A man, worth any woman!”

Though lewdness court her in the shape Is she too bold in thus speaking the of heaven!” truth to her father? The next mo.

But in her dialogue with that dunce, ment her heart sinks, and when he (and clever as he was thought, he asks her, “ Art thou mad ?” She an was the Prince of Dunces,) the lady's

whole character flashed from out her Almost, sir : heaven restore me! Would burning eyes, while they withered

the libeller of her liege-lord; and A neat-herd's daughter! and my Leon. her whole character smiled again in

the softened orbs, as from his false Our neighbour shepherd's son!” lips-true at least in this—she lis.

The Clandestine Marriage, then, tened to the recital of her husband's is vindicated ? It is-sacredly. For of that scene along with us when we

virtues. We carry the remembrance “she referred herself unto a poor but worthy gentleman.” And though see her on her way to Milford-Haher husband is under ban, Imogen

ven-reading that heart-cleaving letwill not suffer even the Queen to ter in the handwriting of her own look in his disparagement. Pisanio Leonatus - praying, passionately – informs them that Cloten had drawn almost proudly—and scarce upbraid. on his master, who rather played than ingly, - for death from Pisanio's

sword. Yet she more than submitsfought, and the soul of the young

she desires still to live. Her huswife is up, as she says sarcastically

band may be restored from his dis"To draw upon an exilc! O brave sir ! ease - and by her be more than I would they were in Afric both together; forgiven. To love like her's life is Myself by with a needle, that I might prick sweet. Therefore she becomes Fi. The goer-back.

dele, and an inmate of the outlaw's Maid_bride-wife-and widow, all in one bright glimpse, and one black

“ Flowers laugh before her in their beds, gloom of time! In her conjugal af

And fragrance in her footing treads !" fection dutiful and beautiful, little doth that wicked stepmother know Her presence beautifies the savage of the heart of Imogen.

scenery of the forest; and the spirit "Queen, Weeps she still, sayest thou ? of Love, breathing through that dim Dost thou think in time

disguise, pervades the heroic hearts She will not quench, and let instructions of her unknown brothers, uniting the enter,

bold and bright with the fearful and Where folly now possesses?"

the fair, in the mysterious instinct of To the poisoner rock-fast love de nature. She seems to die, and that serves no better name than“ folly ! dirge deepens at once our love and Lear, indeed, used almost the same

our sorrow, as we think of her word--but oh! with what other and perfect is our pity, as we listen

now a spirit in heaven. So profound meaning, to his Cordelia!

to that poetry and that music-a " See! my poor fool is dead !" forest hymn indeed!-that we are al

cave.

price

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Fair reader, canst thou blame Imogen? and hear how tenderly her husband speaks to her on the eve of his banishment.

My queen! my mistress !
O lady! weep no more; lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
Than doth become a man!"

Write, my queen!

most reconciled, even as Guiderius bound up; but it relates its hold, and Arviragus are, to Fidele's death. and she now has the whole miserable

use of her eyes. “The garment of Gui. Fear no more the heat o'the sun,

Posthumus!” The human heart can Nor the furious winter's rages;

suffer but a measure-in hers, it has Thou thy worldly task hast done,

been an overflowing one of any one Home art gone and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must,

passion. Her actions, her words, are

now calmer-they shew almost comAs chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Gui. No exorciser harm thee!

posure—she inspects the body of her Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

husband with a fearful accuracy of Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee! love. Arv. Nothing ill come near thee! “ I know the shape of his leg ; this is his Both. Quiet consummation have;

hand; And renowned be thy grave !". His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh ; We remember that we used to The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial

facethink of old that Imogen's passion on finding what she believed was the

Murder in heaven ! How? 'Tis gone !" dead body of Posthumus, was not Had she seen him lying unmutilated enough intense. Boy-critics then in the majestic beauty of death, she were we on Shakspeare-now we would have poured out her heart in are an old man. What is the truth? tenderest grief, and there would Imogen has awoke from a poisoned have been more of what is commonswoon-and has been bestrewed with ly called pathos in her lamentations. flowers like one of the dead. As the But the bloody neck-the sight, the swoon has gone, on comes sleep. touch of that extorts but one wild cry. " Faith, I'll lie down and sleep ” “Murder in heaven !” “How? 'tis Something human-like is beside her gone!” Who but a Siddons could on the ground; and on the uncertain have uttered these words in shrieks vision she says to herself, “but soft! and moans ! with suitable accomno bedfellow !” Then seeing that it paniment of stony eyeballs, clay. is indeed a body, she utters that white face, and the convulsive wringbeautiful exclamation

ing of agonized bands! Out of the “O gods and goddesses!

ecstasy of horror, and grief, and pity, Those flowers are like the pleasures of the

and love, and distraction, and deworld;

spair arise-indignation and wrath This bloody man the care on't. I hope I

towards his murderers. Pisanio ! dream!"

be all curses darted on theel and

that "irregulous devil, Cloten !” All For a while longer she knows not is at once brought to light. The cirwhether she be or be not in the cumstantial evidence of their guilt power of a dream; all she knows is, is “ strong as proof of Holy Writ,” that her whole being is possessed by or rather she sees the murderers refear and trembling. She says, vealed, as in a lurid flash of lightning. " But if there be

Forgery! poisoning! assassination! Yet left in heaven as small a dron of pity “ Damned Pisanio!” « Pisanio !" As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it!"

“ Pisanio!” “ Damned Pisanio ?”

« This is Pisanio's deed !” “ 'Tis Her fancy-her imagination-as she he and Cloten !" "Pisanio's deed lies there half-entranced-are bewil- and Cloten's !” “0, 'tis pregnant, dered by and bewilder her passion

pregnant!” Thus she clenches the and all the language then given ut.

proof of their guilt by the iteration terance to in her strange agony is

of their accursed names, the very pitched wild and high, a wonderful sound of every syllable composing wailing of poetry.

them being to her ears full of crueltý " The dream's here still! it is even when and wickedness. I wake,

" Where is thy head? where's that? Ah Without me as within me; not imagined, me! where's that ?

Pisanio might have killed thee at the heart, A headless man!"

And left this head on !" At that moment her emotion must But, had his heart been stabbed, be-horror. In it all her senses are and his breast all blood-bedabbled,

Selt.

bound up; but it relates its hold;
and she now has the whole miserable
use of her eyes." The garment of
Posthumus !" The human heart can
suffer but a measure-in hers, it has
been an overflowing one-of any one
passion. Her actions, her words, are
now calmer--they shew almost com-
posure-she inspects the body of her
husband with a fearful accuracy

of
love.
" I know the shape of his leg; this is his

hand;
His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh;
The brawns of Hercules; but his Jovial

face
on

Murder in heaven! How? 'Tis gone !"
зе
0t Had she seen him lying unmutilated
en in the majestic beauty

of death, she
we would have poured out her heart in

my lord!

same:

th? tenderest grief, and there would ed have been more of what is commonith ly called pathos in her lamentations, the But the bloody neck-the sight

, the
cep, touch of that extorts but one wildery

.
“Murder in heaven!" "How? 'tis
her gone!” Who but a Siddons could
ain have uttered these words in skrieks
oft! and moans with suitable accomh-
tit paniment of stony eyeballs, clar-
hat white face, and the convulsive wring.

ing of agonized hands! Out of the
ecstasy of horror, and grief, and pity,

and love, and distraction, and de-
the

spair arise---indignation and wrath towards his murderers. Písanio! be all curses darted on theel and

that "irregulous devil, Cloten!" All 206 is at once brought to light

. The eir-
he cumstantial evidence of their guilt
is, is "strong as proof of Holy Writ,"
by or rather she sees the murderers re-

vealed, as in a lurid flash of lightning,
Forgery! poisoning! assassination

Damned" Pisanio!" "Pisanio!"
" Pisanio!Damned Písanio!"

This is Pisanio's deed!" "'Tis
le he and Cloten!" "Pisanio's deed
1
and Cloten's !" "O, 'tis pregnant

,

would her woe have been less wild ? attendants, as she had done in t
Then had she thought, "he might eyes of the Briton Belarius and E
have spared the heart !” Distracted princely boys. Lying on that blood
though she be, and utterly prostrate, pillow, she utters these most touc
what a majestic image crosses hering words.
brain, as she gazes on the majestic

“ This was my master, corpse!

A very valiant Briton, and a good, "From this most bravest vessel of the

That here by mountaineers lies slain :

Alas! world

There are no more such masters; I ma Struck the main-top !"

"O!

wander Give colour to my pale clieek with thy

From east to occident, cry out for service blood,

Try many, all good, serve truly, never That we the horrider may seem to those Find such another master."

Lucius.
Which chance to find us : 0, my lord!

Thy name?
Imo.

Fidele, sir.

Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very Does she smear her face with his blood ? A desperate fancy! In her Thy name well fits thy faith ; thy faith horror she madly desires to look hor thy name. rid; and all this world being terribly Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not changed to her, she must be terribly

say, changed too, and strike with affright Thou shalt be so well master'd; but, be those which chance to find her.'

sure, She has forgot the cave and its dwell. No less beloved. ers, that, as she was recovering from Go with me. her swoon, kept glimmering before Imo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't her eyes. She thinks no more that please the gods, she “ was a cave-keeper, and cooked I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep to honest creatures”--tó her Guide. As these poor pick.axes can dig; and

when rius and Arviragus have ceased to be -their beautiful images are razed With wild wood-leaves and weeds I have out from her brain. She cares not on

strew'd his grave, what part of the wide wild world she And on it said a century of prayers, may be lying now; and her last Such as I can, twice o’er, I'll weep, and

sigh; words, ere once more stop the beat

And leaving so his service, follow you,
ings of her heart, are," O, my lord!
my lord!"
And who are

So please you entertain me.
is those
Luc.

Ay-good youth ;
who chance to find her ?" Lucius, And rather father thee than master thee.
a captain, and other officers, and a My friends,
Boothsayer, conversing about the war. The boy hath taught us manly duties :
Lucius. Soft, ho! what trunk is here,

let us
Without his top? The ruin speaks, that Find out the prettiest daizied plot we can,
sometime

And make him with our pikes and parti-
It was a worthy building ! How! a page!
Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead A grave ! Come-arm him! Boy, he is
rather :

preferred
For nature doth abhor to make his bed By thee to us; and he shall be interred
With the defunct, or sleep upon the As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine
dead.

eyes.Let's see the boy's face !"

The scene is perfect. The flow So felt Lucius-a veteran Roman and ebb of passion is felt by us to general. But Imogen, a young Bri- be obeying, like the sea, the mysteritish lady,

“abhorred not to make ous law of nature. The huge waves her bed with the defunct, or sleep of woe have subsided almost into a upon the dead;” she had said "but calm. The strength of love is now soft! no bedfellow!” Believing it the support of Imogen's life-and was her husband's corpse she laid the sense of duty. She has no down her head, where it had often wish either to die or to live; but lain before, and there found obli- her despair is no longer distracvion.

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pregnant!Thus she clenches the

proof of their guilt by the iteration
$ of their accursed names, the very
I sound of every syllable composing

them being to her ears full of cruelty
and wickedness.
" Where is thy head? Where's that? Ah

me! where's that?
Pisanio might have killed thee at the heart

,
And left this head on!"
d his heart been stabbed,

tion; and having grieved till she Fidele at once finds favour in the could grieve no more, and reacheyes of the Roman Lucius and his ed the utmost limits of sorrow, there

nod-bedabbled,

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