Old father antic, the Law, had not yet established his undoubted supremacy; and taking purses, even in the days of Queen Elizabeth, was not absolutely incompatible with gentility. The breaking up of the great households and families by the wars of the Roses, the suppression of the monasteries and the confiscation of church property by Henry VIII., added to the adventurous spirit generated throughout all Europe by the discovery of America, had thrown upon the world "men of action,” as they called themselves, without any resources but what lay in their hands. Younger members of broken houses, or aspirants for the newly lost honors or the ease of the cloister, did not well know what to do with themselves. They were too idle to dig; they were ashamed to beg;-and why not apply at home the admirable maxim :

"That they should take who have the power,
And they should keep who can,"

which was acted upon with so much success beyond the sea. The same causes which broke down the nobility, and crippled the resources of the church, deprived the retainers of the great baron, and the sharers of the dole of the monastery, of their accustomed mode of living; and robbery in these classes was considered the most venial of offences. To the system of poor laws a system worthy of being projected "in great Eliza's golden time" by the greatest philosopher of that day, or, with one exception of any other day—are we indebted for that general respect for property which renders the profession of a been banished. But Shakespeare wanted to get rid of the party; and as, in fact, a soldier was hanged in the army of Henry V. for such a theft, the opportunity was afforded. The king is not concerned in the order for the execution, however, which is left with the Duke of Exeter. I have omitted a word or two from the ordinary edition in the above quotation, which are useless to the sense and spoil the metre. A careful consideration of Falstaff's speeches will show that, though they are sometimes printed as prose, they are in almost all cases metrical. Indeed, I do not think that there is much prose in any of Shakespeare's plays.-W. M.

thief infamous, and consigns him to the hulks, or the tread-mill, without compassion. But I must not wander into historical disquisitions; though no subject would, in its proper place, be more interesting than a minute speculation upon the gradual working of the poor-law system on English society. It would form one of the most remarkable chapters in that great work yet to be written: "The History of the Lowest Order from the earliest times"-a work of far more importance, of deeper philosophy, and more picturesque romance, than all the chronicles of what are called the great events of the earth. Elsewhere let me talk of this. I must now get back again to Falstaff.* His Gadshill adventure was a jest―a jest, perhaps, repeated after too many precedents; but still, according to the fashion. and the humor of the time, nothing more than a jest. His own view of such transactions is recorded; he considers Shallow as a fund of jesting to amuse the prince, remarking that it is easy to amuse "with a sad brow" (with a solemnity of appearance)

"This is, perhaps, the most substantial comic character that ever was invented. Falstaff's wit is an emanation of a fine constitution; an exuberance of good-humor and good-nature; an overflowing of his love of laughter and good fellowship; a giving vent to his heart's ease and overcontentment with himself and others. We are not to suppose he was a mere sensualist. All this is as much in imagination as in reality. His sensuality does not engross and stupify his other faculties, but 'ascends me into the brain, clears away all the dull, crude vapors that environ it, and makes it full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes.' His imagination keeps up the ball after his senses have done with it. He is represented

as a liar, a braggart, a coward, a glutton, &c., and yet we are not offended but delighted with him; for he is all these as much to amuse others as to gratify himself. He openly assumes all these characters to show the humorous part of them.

The secret of Falstaff's wit is, for the most

part, a masterly presence of mind, an absolute self-possession, which nothing can disturb."-HAZLITT. This author also quotes the scene with Mrs. Quickly, when she sums up what he owes her, and how, as "the most convincing proof of Falstaff's power of gaining over the good will of those he was familiar with, except, indeed, Bardolph's somewhat profane exclamation on hearing the account of his death, 'would I were with him, wheresoe'er he is, whether in heaven or hell.'"-M.

"a fellow that never had the ache in his shoulders." What was

to be accomplished by turning the foolish justice into ridicule, was also to be done by inducing the true prince to become for a moment a false thief. The serious face of robbery was assumed "to keep Prince Harry in perpetual laughter." That, in Falstaff's circumstances, the money obtained by the night's exploit would be highly acceptable, can not be doubted; but the real object was to amuse the prince. He had no idea of making an exhibition of bravery on such an occasion; Poins well knew his man when he said beforehand: "As for the third, if he fight longer than he see reason, I'll forswear arms :" his end was as much obtained by the prince's jokes upon his cowardice. It was no matter whether he invented what tended to laughter, or whether it was invented upon him. The object was won, so the laughter was in any manner excited. The exaggerated tale of the misbegotten knaves in Kendal-green, and his other lies, gross and mountainous, are told with no other purpose; and one is almost tempted to believe him when he says that he knew who were his assailants, and ran for their greater amusement. At all events, it is evident that he cares nothing on the subject. He offers a jocular defence; but immediately passes to matter of more importance than the question of his standing or running:

"But. lads, I'm glad you have the money. Hostess!
Clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow,
Gallants, lads, boys, hearts-o'-gold! All the titles of
Good fellowship come to you!"*

The money is had; the means of enjoying it are at hand.
Why waste our time in inquiring how it has been brought here,

*These passages also are printed as prose; I have not altered a single letter, and the reader will see not only that they are dramatical blank-verse, but dramatical blank-verse of a very excellent kind. After all the editions of Shakespeare, another is sadly wanted. The text throughout requires a searching critical revision.-W. M.

or permit nonsensical discussions on my valor or cowardice to delay for a moment the jovial appearance of the bottle.

I see no traces of his being a glutton. His roundness of paunch is no proof of gormandizing propensities; in fact, the greatest eaters are generally thin and spare. When Henry is running over the bead-roll of his vices, we meet no charge of gluttony urged against him.

"There is a devil

Haunts thee i' the likeness of a fat old man;

A ton of man is thy companion.

Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humors,
That bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of
Dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed
Cloakbag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox
With the pudding in this belly, that reverend vice,
That grey iniquity, that father ruffian,
That vanity in years? Wherein is he good
But to taste sack, and drink it? Wherein neat
And cleanly, but to carve a capon, and eat it?"

The sack and sugar Falstaff admits readily; of addiction to the grosser pleasures of the table neither he nor his accuser says a word. Capon is light eating; and his neatness in carving gives an impression of delicacy in the observances of the board. He appears to have been fond of capon; for it figures in the tavern-bill found in his pockets as the only eatable beside the stimulant anchovy for supper, and the halfpenny-worth of bread. Nor does his conversation ever turn upon gastro

*This memorable tavern-bill runs thus :

The contraction in the last item is that of obulum, the Roman halfpenny. It is a question whether a large share of the superfluity of wine, in this bill, might not have been consumed by the numerous hangers-on, liberally endowed with perpetual thirst, by whom Falstaff was accustomed to be surrounded.-M.

nomical topics. The bottle supplies an endless succession of jests; the dish scarcely contributes one.

We must observe that Falstaff is never represented as drunk, or even affected by wine. The copious potations of sack do not cloud his intellect, or embarrass his tongue. He is always self-possessed, and ready to pour forth his floods of acute wit. In this he forms a contrast to Sir Toby Belch. The discrimination between these two characters is very masterly. Both are knights, both convivial, both fond of loose or jocular society, both somewhat in advance of their youth-there are many outward points of similitude, and yet they are as distinct as Prospero and Polonius. The Illyrian knight is of a lower class of mind. His jests are mischievous; Falstaff never commits a practical joke. Sir Toby delights in brawling and tumult; Sir John prefers the ease of his own inn. Sir Toby sings songs, joins in catches, and rejoices in making a noise; Sir John knows too well his powers of wit and conversation to think it necessary to make any display, and he hates disturbance. Sir Toby is easily affected by liquor and roystering; Sir John rises from the board as cool as when he sate down. The knight of Illyria had nothing to cloud his mind; he never aspired to higher things than he has attained; he lives a jolly life in the household of his niece, feasting, drinking, singing, rioting, playing tricks from one end of the year to the other; his wishes are gratified, his hopes unblighted. I have endeavored to show that Falstaff was the contrary of all this. And we must remark that the tumultuous Toby has some dash of romance in him, of which no trace can be found in the English knight. The wit and grace, the good-humor and good looks of Maria conquer Toby's heart, and he is in love with her-love expressed in rough fashion, but love sincere. Could we see him some dozen years after his marriage, we should find him sobered down into a respectable, hospitable, and domestic country