"Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves,
And ye that on the sands with printless foot

Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back; you demi-puppets, that
By moon-shine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew, by whose aid

(Weak masters tho' ye be) I have be-dimm'd

The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green-sea and the azur'd vault
Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder
Have I giv'n fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak
With his own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontory
Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar; graves at my command
Have wak'd their sleepers; op'd, and let 'em forth
By my so potent art. But this rough magic
I here abjure; and when I have requir'd
Some heav'nly music, which ev'n now I do
(To work mine end upon their senses that
This airy charm is for), I'll break my staff,
Bury it certain fadoms in the earth,

And deeper than did ever plummet sound,
I'll drown my book."

We must not forget to mention among other things in this play, that Shakspeare has anticipated nearly all the arguments on the Utopian schemes of modern philosophy.

"GONZALO. Had I the plantation of this isle, my lord

ANTONIO. He'd sow 't with nettle seed.

SEBASTIAN. Or docks or mallows.

GONZALO. And were the king on 't, what would I do?
SEBASTIAN. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
GONZALO. I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things: for no kind of traffic

Would I admit: no name of magistrate;

Letters should not be known; wealth, poverty,

And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;

No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;

No occupation, all men idle, all,
And women too; but innocent and pure:
No sov❜reignty.

SEBASTIAN. And yet he would be king on 't.

ANTONIO. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets too beginning.

GONZALO, All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavor. Treason, felony,

Sword, pike, knife, gun or need of any engine

Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,

Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance

To feed my innocent people!

SEBASTIAN. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

ANTONIO, None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. GONZALO. I would with such perfection govern, sir, T excel the golden age.

SEBASTIAN. Save his majesty !"

THE

MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.

BOTTOM the Weaver is a character that has not had justice done him. He is the most romantic of mechanics. And what a list of companions he has-Quince the Carpenter, Snug the Joiner, Flute the Bellows-mender, Snout the Tinker, Starveling the Tailor; and then again, what a group of fairy attendants, Puck, Pease blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustardseed! It has been observed that Shakspeare's characters are constructed upon deep physiological principles; and there is something in this play which looks very like it. Bottom the Weaver, who takes the lead of

"This crew of patches, rude mechanicals,
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls,"

follows a sedentary trade, and he is accordingly represented as conceited, serious and fantastical. He is ready to undertake any. thing and everything, as if it was as much a matter of course as the motion of his loom and shuttle. He is for playing the tyrant, the lover, the lady, the lion. "He will roar that it shall do any man's heart good to hear him ;" and this being objected to as improper, he still has a resource in his good opinion of himself, and “will roar you an 'twere any nightingale." Snug the Joiner is the moral man of the piece, who proceeds by measurement and discretion in all things. You see him with his rule and compasses in his hand. "Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study."

"You may do it extempore," says Quince," for it is nothing but roaring." Starveling the Tailor keeps the peace, and objects to the lion and the drawn sword.

"I believe we must leave the Starveling, however, does not seconds them when made by

killing out when all's done." start the objections himself, but others, as if he had not spirit to express even his fears without encouragement. It is too much to suppose all this intentional : but it very luckily falls out so. Nature includes all that is implied in the most subtle analytical distinctions; and the same distinctions will be found in Shakspeare. Bottom, who is not only chief actor, but stage-manager for the occasion, has a device to obviate the danger of frightening the ladies: "Write me a pro. logue, and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and for better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the Weaver: this will put them out of fear." Bot tom seems to have understood the subject of dramatic illusion at least as well as any modern essayist. If our holiday mechanie rules the roast among his fellows, he is no less at home in his new character of an ass, “with amiable cheeks, and fair large ears." He instinctively acquires a most learned taste, and grows fastidious in the choice of dried peas and bottled hay. He is quite familiar with his new attendants, and assigns them their parts with all due gravity. Monsieur Cobweb, good Monsieur, get your weapon in your hand, and kill me a red. hipt humble-bee on the top of a thistle, and, good Monsieur, bring me the honey-bag." What an exact knowledge is here shown of natural history!

Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, is the leader of the fairy band. He is the Anel of the MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM; and yet as unlike as can be to the Ariel in The Tempest. No other poet could have made two such different characters out of the same fanciful materials and situations. Ariel is a minister of retri bution, who is touched with a sense of pity at the woes he inflicts. Puck is a mad-cap sprite, full of wantonness and mis. chief, who laughs at those whom he misleadə~~~" Lord, what fools these mortals be!" Anel cleaves the air, and executes his mission with the zeal of a winged messenger; Puck is borne

along on his fairy errand like the light and glittering gossamer before the breeze. He is, indeed, a most Epicurean little gentleman, dealing in quaint devices, and faring in dainty delights. Prospero and his world of spirits are a set of moralists: but with Oberon and his fairies we are launched at once into the empire of the butterflies. How beautifully is the race of beings contrasted with the men and women actors in the scene, by a single epithet which Titania gives to the latter, "the human mortals!" It is astonishing that Shakspeare should be consid ered, not only by foreigners, but by many of our own critics, as a gloomy and heavy writer, who painted nothing but "gorgons and hydras, and chimeras dire." His subtlety exceeds that of all other dramatic writers, insomuch that a celebrated person of the present day said that he regarded him rather as a metaphysician than a poet. His delicacy and sportive gaiety are infinite. In the MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM alone, we should imagine, there is more sweetness and beauty of description than in the whole range of French poetry put together. What we mean is this, that we will produce out of that single play ten passages, to which we do not think any ten passages in the works of the French poets can be opposed, displaying equal fancy and imagery. Shall we mention the remonstrance of Helena to Hermia, or Titania's description of her fairy train, or her disputes with Oberon about the Indian boy, or Puck's account of himself and his employments, or the Fairy Queen's exhortation to the elves to pay due attendance upon her favorite, Bottom; or Hippolita's description of a chase, or Theseus's answer? The two last are as heroical and spirited as the others are full of luscious tenderness. The reading of this play is like wandering in a grove by moonlight: the descriptions breathe a sweetness like odors thrown from beds of flowers.

Titania's exhortation to the fairies to wait upon Bottom, which is remarkable for a certain cloying sweetness in the repetition of the rhymes, is as follows:

"Be kind and courteous to this gentleman.
Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes,
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries;
With purple grapes, green figs and mulberries;