lates on nature after the manner of the author of the 'Vestiges.' The death of this king is made practically to illustrate the impotence of faith, and the prospect of an eternal world, in subduing the passions of the heart. We have a mixture of Christian allusions and blood-stained ambitionand the dying monarch delivers to his son the detestable maxims of a Machiavelli, who seems to have been well known to Shakspere. More he would' have added, had his strength permitted. He then prays, 'O God, forgive me'-those sins he was still prepared to augment, but that his lungs were wasted.'

Shallow jests over the grave. The reckless crew of the Boar's Head still distinguish themselves. The Prince, Poins, and Pistol, still continue their essays in profanity, and the sensual Knight remains their unholy exemplar. Not merely the details, but the essentials of Christianity are the themes of his flippancy. Perhaps in no other writings in the world are such melancholy and solemn subjects made perpetual topics of merriment, and their author not unanimously voted graceless and faithless.

KING JOHN.

This drama presents us with a weak and bloody king, who represents himself as God's agent'-with Constance, an injured and impious woman-with a bastard who proclaims gold, that breaks the pate of faith,' his Lord'-with King Philip, who, after the manner of Joshua, declares the sun will stay its course,' but in this case, to celebrate violated faith-and with Pandulph, a priest, who paints assassination as meritorious, and ridicules the popular idea of the interference of Providence in the affairs of men, ascribing it to the vulgar ignorance of mankind when they find tongues of heaven' in such events—an insidious but effective lesson of scepticism.

Elinor and Constance well illustrate the bias of our author. In the recriminations of women, and conflict of passion, we find the vein of his speculative philosophy.

The bastard declares 'old Time' to be the great arbiter of events. He is impious without disguise.

Constance, a woman, is the reverse of Claudio, in Mea

D

sure for Measure. She persists in her choice of the 'end all' of death, and excludes any idea of immortality as she vows to kiss his (Death's) 'detestable bones,' with a cool and pointed nonchalance that no Christian writer could realise as Shakspere does. If he be not atheistic, no author not so, save he, ever so profoundly interpreted its aims.

In this play he reasons on the grave as Sir James Mackintosh does (in one of his philosophical aberrations), and on the signs of heaven, like Cicero.

The power of humanity over an oath, and a murderer's heart, as exhibited in the scene between Arthur and Hubert, is a pure specimen of Shaksperian morality.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

The foundation of this play proves to be a story taken from an infidel writer of the fourteenth century-Boccaccio. Our author adds to it a comic part, in which we are indulged with 'impertinent common-places.'

The Countess is made to venture an improvement upon the famous passive rules of the New Testament. She admonishes Bertram to

Love all, trust a few,

Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power than use.

This is remarkable language. While 'love to all' is inculcated, a carefully guarded precept of self-defence is laid down, excluding that idea of non-resistance developed by the 'Son of Man. Though this defence is to be rather in power than use,' yet are we to be able' for an enemy' in the time of need.

Helena is no less peculiar in her opinions. She says—

Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie
Which we ascribe to heaven.

She does not argue for the universality of this being the case, but her belief evidently lies in that direction. If less presumptuous, she is quite as incredulous as other of Shakspere's characters.

Is it not odd that our devout poet should be so forward to abridge the credit of heaven in the progress of human affairs,

teaching that in ourselves lies much of that help which is customarily ascribed to Providence?

It is upon a passage in this play (where the King speaks of Bertram's father) that Mr. Knight ventures his remarkable opinion upon Shakspere's 'reverential mind;' resting this character of our poet upon the infrequency of his use of 'scripture phraseology,' and his 'tender and delicate reserve about holy things.' Why, All's Well that Ends Well is alone a refutation of this baseless conjecture. Criticism has not another canon so untenable as this.

One of the lords, in the fourth act, lays down a theory of morality upon a principle of moral compensation, interwoven in the nature of things. The idea is a Utilitarian one.

Our clown is a worthy successor to Sir John Falstaff, He is conceded to be remarkable for 'biting satire,' which means, keen profanity.

KING HENRY V.

Our King is now a reformed rake, who has passed from the extreme of recklessness to the extreme of seriousness, until he is conceded to be 'superstitious.' It is the usual vice of ignorance thus to dwell on verges; and it is an unhappy fatality, to say the least of it, that our poet should thus represent his pious hero in a light always objectionable to the discreet portion of mankind. But in this religiousness he is not consistent. Johnson, who would be, from sympathy, favourable to him, complains that while he prays like a Christian, he swears like a heathen.'

The opening scene presents us with two archbishops, who regard the conversion of Henry as rendering him a fitted tool of the church, and proceed at once to prey upon him. Their plans place piety in an odious light. It is confessed that the poet borrowed this scene from Hall, 'a bitter hater of the priests.' Indeed, our reverential author borrowed from most suspicious sources.

Profane old Falstaff is again served up in Henry V., under the facetious soubriquet of 'fat meat,' By this time the boy' does honour to his tutors. Bardolph is a cool necessitarian. Pistol, as he appears here, proposes to bristle up,' as Falstaff is about to shake off this mortal coil. This

is death's dread lesson to him-he'll bristle up.' Mrs. Quickly re-names the Patriarch of Israel 'Arthur,' and lays it down, that greasy, unwieldy, old Jack, is in Abraham's bosom. Under Mrs. Quickly's ministrations Falstaff dies as he had lived his last end is a continued jest, and he leaves, in the description of the event, a legacy of ridicule to his friends.

Besides borrowing from Hall, whom Knight compares to Hume in his hatred of priests, Shakspere puts into the mouth of Bardolph a sentiment, which has since been uttered by Burns and Shelley, and which, if we are to characterise it religiously, we must pronounce it one which no Christian could hear without a shudder.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

Since we have sciences which essay to predicate character from physiognomy, opinions from the formation of the brain, rules by which the light of hand writing is reflected over the sentiments, it surely must be possible to determine the man generally from his works, without requiring that he should arise, and in person avow himself, in face of the law, of public opinion, and his private interests. As You Like It affords abundance of evidence that Shakspere felt he should incur all these risks by a more explicit expression of his views, which is another corroboration that his views were not those of the orthodox standard.

If the conjecture of Hallam be correct, this play is reflective of our author, in those moments of silent contemplation when the secret thoughts find words. Accordingly we find him systematically wandering from trodden paths,' uttering, or anxious to utter, the 'invective which pierces through life-give him but leave to speak his mind, and he will cleanse the foul body of this infected world.' We cannot but be struck with the earnestness of this imploration; and when the 'fie! fie!' of society abashes the entreater, he exclaims, with the simplicity of genuine honesty, Why, what would I do but good?' Hereby hangs a tale,' if our too conventional critics would allow themselves to read it.

Jaques is the philosopher of the play, and the chief moralist. The Duke follows him in the same line. Touch

stone is the witty fool, and Rosalind one of the women pointed at by Gifford for their profanity. Corin is a natural philosopher; a priest is introduced to be ridiculed.

The usual freedoms are taken with Scripture. Our au-✔✔ thor must ever had it uppermost in his thoughts, so many speeches are pointed with it. Respecting divorce, he is rather Miltonic. It is in this play that we find Shakspere's tribute to the memory of Marlowe.

The famous ' seven ages' conclude without a single reference to religion.

Critics have wondered that our author should have neglected the fine opportunity of putting us in possession of the arguments with which the Duke was converted. How little they had profited by the study of this play! Shakspere had another moral to enforce. Jaques continues to the end the materialist of As You Like It.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Marriage and irreverence seem to be the Much Adoes of this play. Chiefly is it a covert satire upon the serious of the times in which it was produced, who made so much ado about the licences of the stage, and the levities of our author.

Profane allusions are defended under the name of 'old ends,' which is the title Richard III. gives to his quotations from Scripture.

We have a scandalous dialogue between Antonio and Leonato upon curst women,' 'curst cows,' and 'apes in hell,' and a projected visit of Beatrice to the 'devil.' Warburton, in order to support the poet's seriousness, throws this into the margin, remarking, All this impious nonsense thrown to the bottom is the players, and foisted in without rhyme or reason.' But Johnson, more candid and honest, says, 'Warburton puts them in the margin. They do not indeed deserve so honourable a place. Yet, I am afraid they are too much in the manner of our author, who is sometimes trying to purchase merriment at too dear a rate.' We need not ask how does this manner of our author,' to which a critic, so unwilling (being a Christian) as Johnson, confesses, comport with that reverence with which we are called upon to endow Shakspere.