Another Lord of high renown, Was had a 20: had dreing there within the town, Great love begia: Prams, the zoome knight (ty true Who with the love of Thisbe bright, Lind cares renew. It came to pass their secret was This love they use long tract of time; I. it befel, At last, they promised to meet at prime, Where they might lovingly embrace That he might see his Thisbe's face, And she his sight. In joyful case she approached the place Where she her Pyramus Had thought to viewed; but was renewed To them most dolorous. Thus, while she stays for Pyramus, There did proceed Out of the wood a lion fierce, Made Thisbe dreed: And, as in haste she fled away, The lion tare, instead of prey; That Pyramus proceeded thus, The mantle this of Thisbe his, For why? he thought the lion had Fair Thisbe slain : And then the beast, with his bright blade, He slew certaine. Then made he moan, and said 'Alas! O wretched wight! Now art thou in woful case For Thisbe bright. O gods above! my faithful love For this my breath, by fatal death, Then from his sheath he drew his blade, He thrust the point, and life did wade, Then Thisbe she from cabin came, And to the Woll apace she ran, And to discuss to Pyramus, Of all her former fears; When sorrow great that she had made The bloody knife, to end her life Yn lades all, peruse and see How these two lovers Ed agre You Mises vall, and do not fail, Manifold are the opinions that have been advanced respecting the origin of the fairy mythalogy of our ancestors. The superstitions of the East and of the North, and of Greece and of Rome, have been resorted to in searen of a clue which would lead to a consistent history of its rise and growth. It appears safe to assume that the oriental geat is general, and the Dews and Peries of Persia in particular, are the remote prototypes of modern fairies. The doctrine of the existence of this peculiar race of spirits was imported into the north of Europe by the Scythians, and it furms a leading feature in the mythology of the Celts. Hence was derived the popular fairy system of our own country, which our ancestors modified by the mythology of the classics. The Peries and Dews of the orientals were paralleled by the Scandinavian division of their genii, or diminutive supernatural beings (with which their imaginations so thickly peopled the earth), into bright or beneficent elves, and black or malignant dwarfs; the former beautiful, the latter hideous in their aspect. A similar division of the fairy tribe of this country was long made; but, by almost imperceptible degrees, the qualities of both species were ascribed to fairies generally. They were deemed intermediate between mankind and spirits; but still, as they partook decidedly of a spiritual nature, they were, like all other spirits, under the influence of the devil:-but their actions were more mischievous than demoniacal; more perplexing than malicious; more frolicsome than seriously injurious.... An air of peculiar lightness distinguishes the poet's treatment of this extremely fanciful subject, from his subsequent and bolder flights into the regions of the spiritual world. He rejected from the drama on which he engrafted it, everything calculated to detract from its playfulness, or to encumber it with seriousness; and, giving the rein to the brilliancy of youthful imagination, he scattered, from his superabundant wealth, the choicest flowers of fancy over the fairies' paths: his fairies move amidst the fragrance of enamelled meads, graceful, lovely, and enchanting.SKOTTOWE If it be asked, how we may best increase our chance of approximating to the great and beneficent intellect that has achieved this wondrous vision? the answer is,-by enlarging our sympathies. Sheer genius is not to be acquired by a wish or an effort; but the most moderate talent may be fructified by a diligent cultivation of benevolent impulses. By stirring out of ourselves, we become something more than ourselves; and by the time we have acquired (as we may) a tithe of Shakspere's spirit of sympathy with all that is great, genial, and beautiful, in the sister worlds of fancy and of fact, we shall at least become worthy sharers in the rich product of his "MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM," although we may never hope, dreaming or waking, to witch the world, and immortalise ourselves, by a similar display of poetic excellence.-O INTRODUCTORY REMARKS F "Love's labour" is apparently lost on the beauteous dames and sprightly courtiers of Navarre and France, poetic readers have still to be grateful for the many fine things that his inspiration has caused his votaries to utter. The play is not for those who see no merit but in broad and striking effects, for it really is deficient in dramatic interest; still it has an infinite variety of beauties; there is a rich vein of gold running through the lode, although the earthy mixture is greater in proportion than in most of the metal from the same prolific mine. The characters are numerous and well contrasted; the one thing wanting to them, and consequently to the play, is determined purpose. It is, however, pleasant to consort with a happy lot of Fortune's darlings, who seem to carve out penance for themselves simply to get rid of their superfluous leisure; and who have nothing to do throughout the long, delightful, summer day, but to amuse, baffle, laud, and depreciate each other, in blissful ignorance of time and business, vice and sorrow. Biron and Rosaline have been often noted as the precursors of Benedick and Beatrice, and well deserve the compliment. The King and Princess, in their general courtesy and intellectual gifts, advance much more than conventional claim to the title of "Matchless Navarre," and the "Maid of grace and cómplete majesty." The scholastic enthusiasm of Holofernes and Nathaniel is not without its interest to those who, in the language of the Curate, have "learned to feed upon the delicacies of a book." The sentence in which this phrase occurs, rivals, in merit, his praise of the Schoolmaster's table-talk;-an eulogium, which Johnson (an unexceptionable judge in such a case), calls, " a finished representation of colloquial excellence." Costard is admirable throughout,-bating the occasional coarseness, which he shares with his betters in the scene. His mode of meeting the accusation of Armado, in the first Act, would have been worthy of Touchstone, Launcelot, or Festo. Equally good is his overflowing delight in the witty impertinence of Moth; his exaltation, on successfully standing for "Pompion the Great," though "he knows not the degree of the worthy ;" and his triumphant compassion on the histrionic failure of the poor Curate: "He is a marvellous good neighbour, in sooth, and a very good bowler; but for Alexander, alas! you see how it is; a little o'er parted." Among the finer passages of the play (albeit they abound beyond the power of enumeration), are Biron's enthusiastic praise of Rosaline; her description of him; his expostulation with the King and Courtiers, in the first Act; and his glowing laudation of love and women in the last. Dumain's exquisite Sonnet, "On a Day," must not be forgotten; nor the "Dialogue of the Owl and the Cuckoo;" words which, married to the exquisite music of Arne, contribute to form as auspicious a conjunction as ever was ratified at the altar of Apollo. At what time the first edition of this play appeared is altogether uncertain; probably about 1590: it is, undoubtedly, one of Shakspere's earlier productions. The edition of 1598 has the following title: "A pleasant conceited comedie, called LOVES LABORS LOST. As it was presented before her Highnes this last Christmas. Newly corrected and augmented by W. Shakespere." The drama was, probably, on various accounts especially pleasing to Elizabeth. The voluntary, yet unwilling, maiden Queen-she who was so peevishly jealous of the marriage of her maids of honour-must have relished intensely the postponement of so many sexual unions "for a twelvemonth and a day," with a tolerable prospect of the matches failing altogether. The learning of the pedants must have been anything but caviare to the accomplished pupil of Ascham; while the grandiloquence of Armado would provoke a smile, both for herself and the author, from the lion-hearted woman who had so heroically defied alike the thunder and the machinations of the wily and redoubtable Philip. "It is not unimportant (says Mr. Coleridge) to notice how strong a presumption the diction and allusions of this play afford, that, though Shakspere's acquirements in the dead languages might not be such as we suppose consistent with a learned education, his habits had nevertheless been scholastic and those of a student." SCENE I.-Navarre. A Park, with a Palace in it. Enter the KING, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN. And the huge army of the world's desires,- King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their Still and contemplative in living art. lives, Live registered upon our brazen tombs, And make us heirs of all eternity. You three, Birón, Dumain, and Longaville, names; That his own hand may strike his honour down Long. I am resolved: 't is but a three years' fast; The mind shall banquet, though the body pine: Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits Make rich the ribs, but bankerout the wits. Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified. The grosser manner of these world's delights He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves. To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die; With all these living in philosophy. Biron. I can but say their protestation over: So much, dear liege, I have already sworn; That is, to live and study here three years. But there are other strict observances : As, not to see a woman in that term; Which I hope well is not enrolled there: And one day in a week to touch no food; And but one meal on every day beside; The which I hope is not enrolléd there : And then, to sleep but three hours in the night, And not be seen to wink of all the day (When I was wont to think no harm all night, And make a dark night too of half the day); Which I hope well is not enrolled there: O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep; Not to see ladies,-study,-fast,-not sleep. King. Your oath is passed to pass away from these. Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you please; I only swore to study with your grace, And stay here in your court for three years' space. Long. You swore to that, Birón, and to the rest. Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest. What is the end of study?-let me know. King. Why, that to know which else we should not know. Biron. Things hid and barred, you mean, from common sense? King. Ay, that is study's godlike recompense. Biron. Come on then, I will swear to study so, To know the thing I am forbid to know: As thus,-To study where I well may dine, When I to feast expressly am forbid : Or, study where to meet some mistress fine, When mistresses from common sense are hid: Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath, Study to break it, and not break my troth. If study's gain be thus, and this be so, Study knows that which yet he doth not know : Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no King. These be the stops that hinder study quite, And train our intellects to vain delight. Biron. Why, all delights are vain; and that most vain, Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain: As, painfully to pore upon a book, To seek the light of truth; while truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look: By fixing it upon a fairer eye; That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks; Small have continual plodders ever won, Save base authority from others' books. These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, That give a name to every fixéd star, Have no more profit of their shining nights Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. Too much to know, is to know nought but fame, And every godfather can give a name. King. How well he's read, to reason against reading! Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding! Long. He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding. Biron. The spring is near, when green geese are a-breeding. Dum. How follows that? Fit in his place and time. |