my wit." "But the gift is good, in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it." Some malicious person, may, perhaps, enquire," wherefore are these things hid? Wherefore have these gifts a curtain before them?" To which impertinence, our only reply is, that we never pretended to have wit enough to shew things to blind puppies. And though such persons may say of us, "this fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas;" it is only our readers we care for, amongst whom there are no railers; and we are glad of it; for "I would be loath to cast away my speech; for besides that it is excellently well penned, I have taken great pains to con it." Nor can we enter into other matters, "I can say little more than I have studied, and that question's out of my part:" though it were a pity not to utter all that is prepared, for "alas! I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical." If you are under any difficulty what to call this "exercise," let it "be called Bottom's dream, because it hath no bottom." And whatever you call it, "we'll whisper o'er a couple or two of most sage saws:" from which will be evident, the wondrous fertility of imagery and richness of expression, to be found in those few of his plays, which we have noted for this occasion.

Is a young man's success described, then

Dame fortune is,

"Reports speaks goldenly of his profit."

"The bountiful blind woman."

Whilst we, in ordinary style, say, we shall see, time will prove," our poet says,

"Time is the old justice, that examines all such offenders; and let time try." If the effect of passion, in blinding the judgment, is to be described, we read,

Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me
Which warpt the line of every other favour."

The incomparableness of Bertram's ring, is expressed as that of one "Whose high respect and rich validity, did lack a parallel."

This abundance of imagery, is combined with generous delicacy of sentiment, in this friendly farewell:

"My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate, might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore, I shall crave of you your leave, that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad recompense of your love, to lay any of them on you."

Or, again, this exquisite touch,

"Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much."

With our poet the moon does not shine, but we read

"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!"

His fairy, also, must enrich the morning,

"And hang a pearl in every cowslips ear."

"Hope is a lover's staff, walk hence with that,
And manage it, against despairing thoughts."

Grief displays to us

"A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears."

The unhappy Titania, encircles the witless head of her adored,
"With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flowerets eyes,

Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail."

An apostrophe to a friend, must be luxuriant with natural beauty, and rich in both classic and modern suggestions:

"O Proserpina

For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall
From Diss'-s waggon! daffodils,

That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eye,
Or Cytherea's breath."

Here is an exquisite piece of love flattery, from Florizel to his Perdita,

"What you do,

Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,

I'd have you do it ever : when you sing,

I'd have you buy and sell so; so'give alms;

Pray so; and for the ordering your affairs,

To sing them too: when you dance, I wish you

A wave o'the sea, that you might ever do

Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own
No other function. Each your doing,

So singular in each particular,

Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,

That all your acts are queens."

This "wave o'the sea," is an "exquisite and unmatchable beauty;" full of inimitable grace; it would tempt a Friend to fall in love with dancing. Even the crusty father acknowledges

"This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the green sward."

And though the old churl, had no notion of the match, the greatest abuse he could utter, was,

"O thou fresh piece of excellent witchcraft."

In contrast with this lover's waves o'the sea, we may quote the following fervent but restrained and modest commendation of a sister, which goes further than lavish praises ;

"She bore a mind, that ENVY could not but call fair."

The fertility of our dramatist in similies and metaphors, is partly evident, from these specimens, but the following are more directly to this point; though they are often associated with every other quality of style.

"This spring of love, resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by, a cloud takes all away."

"This weak impress of love, is as a figure
Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat,
Dissolves to water."

"Momentary as a sound,

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;

Brief as the lightening in the collied night,
That in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say,-Behold!
The jaws of darkness do devour it up,

So quick bright things come to confusion."

Or again, here is a "three piled hyperbole," it is a lover besure, speaking of his "treasure," see if you can count his wealth;—

"I as rich, in having such a jewel,

As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl,

The WATER NECTAR, and the rocks pure gold.”

This is the mad cap vein; and is fairly matched by the less lofty, but equally hyperbolical assurance,

"Why man, if the river were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; and if the wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs."

This gentleman's heart one would think is

"As full of sorrows, as the sea of sands."

But for quiet natural beauty, few comparisons in or out of Shakspere, equal this :

"More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear,

When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear."

Here are four touches, full of life;-the lark, the shepherd, green corn fields, and hawthorn buds ::—a rare picture, in two lines.

We shall notice but one other specimen under this head of comparisons;

But we must change the tune for variety's sake, and enact an interlude; it must be one "full of wise saws, and modern instances:" the most modern can be relished only in the "share-market." "Let us make an honourable retreat, if not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage." This seems to be the fitting occasion for a few general maxims of which the best and most general is,

"Experience is by industry achieved,

And perfected by the swift course of time."

Nor has the age yet arrived in which we may lay aside warnings against

seemings and appearances. Hamlet is not in our part this time, or we might remind you, that

"Tis not alone the inky cloak, good mother;"

and, therefore, on this point, it is enough to notice, that

"Thus ornament, is but the guilded shore,

To a more dangerous sea,

The seeming truth, which cunning times put on
To entrap the wisest."

Here is one, on appropriateness:

"How many things by season, seasoned are,
To their right praise and true perfection:

-I think

The nightingale, if she could sing by day,

When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren."

The effect of real ardour in overcoming difficulties, exemplifying the motto, "where there's a will there's a way," is beautifully pourtrayed by our poet:

"A true devoted pilgrim is not weary,

To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps."

Nor will obstacles repress but only increase a solid purpose :

The current that with gentle murmur glides,

Thou know'st, being stopt, impatiently doth rage;

But when his fair course is not hindered,

He makes sweet music to the enameled stones,

Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge,

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage;

And so by many winding nooks he strays,
With willing sport to the wild ocean."

Only let your pilgrimage be to some purpose, that you may not be exposed to the doubtful compliment, "I fear you have sold you own lands, to see other men's;" this would be ill travelling.

There are also some loving epithets in Shakspere, of which we may give a few specimens for the use of such as wish to apply proper names:You canker-blossom!" "thou painted may-pole:" thou "pigeon egg of discretion:" the "very valiant trencher-man:" the "rapier and dagger man:" "some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick."

But the bane and antidote, are both before us, for here is a concluder, so far as general maxims are concerned, in which Shakspere "is himself again:"

"I will chide no breather in the world, but myself; against whom I know most faults."

The next quality to be noticed, in the style of Shakspere, is that picturesqueness, by which he paints a scene in words. We shall notice only two: Antigonus is about to expose an infant, it is by the sea shore, and a "storm is brewing in the wind;" the old man does the work unwillingly,

-"Weep I cannot,

But my heart bleeds; and most accurst am I,

To be by oath enjoined to do this.-Farewell!

The day frowns more and more-thou art like to have

A lullaby to rough."

The old man retiring is pursued by a bear; then comes the picture drawn to the life :

Clown." I have seen two such sights by sea and by land! But I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the sky; betwixt the firmament and it, you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.

Shepherd.-Why boy, how is it? Clown. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore! But that's not to the point. O the most piteous cry of the poor souls; sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: now the ship boring the moon, with her mainmast; and anon swallowed with yeast and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land services, to see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragon'd it: but first, how the poor souls roared and the sea mocked them: and how the gentleman roared and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather.

Shepherd.-Name of mercy, when was this, boy?

Clown.-Now, now; I have not winked since I saw these sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman; he's at it now.”

It would be difficult to find a more graphic description: though it is too full of motion for a painter. The following, however, is more allied to still life; though it could not be done more vividly in colours, than by letters. It is the attitude of melancholy Jaques, and must speak for itself:

"To day, my Lord of Amiens, and myself,
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
To the which place, a poor sequestered stag,
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
Did come to languish; and, indeed, my Lord,
The wretched animal heaved forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big tears
Coursed one another down his innocent nose,
In piteous chase, and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,

Stood on the extremest verge of the swift flood
Augmenting it with tears."

Every word here is a bold stroke of the brush, and every stroke adds a new feature the antique oak, its roots peeping out upon the brook, are excellently done; and this is the cheapest way of buying pictures, pictures as real as those done on canvass; nay, we can enhance them by a beauty beyond all art, the sunlight of fancy, and hang them up in our memory for ever. By this method of poetic imagery, the colouring and outline of words, we can have pictures of passions and ambitions; all the various moods of mind, better than portraits of the countenance. These we are provided with abundantly, by the cunning hand of our artificer.

But we must now hasten to give some of the characteristics of individuals and principles, character-pictures, graphically described: