rites, are among the choicest inspirations of Shakespeare. The mysterious feeling of melancholy-the too-frequent accompaniment of the o'er-informed mind, is no less philosophically than beauti fully expressed :— "O, Melancholy! Who ever yet could sound thy bottom?-find Thou blessed thing, Thou died'st, a most rare boy, of melancholy." Their Guiderius and Arviragus are the children of romance. youthful ardour and simplicity are well contrasted with the subdued tone of their foster-father, Belarius. How pathetic is the following reply of Arviragus, relative to the supposed death of Imogen! "Belar. What! is he dead? How found you him? Arvir. Stark: smiling, as some fl had tickled slumber, Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his right check The jealousy of Posthumus is quite as natural as that of Othello.-The fiery disposition of the Meor required to be worked upon by the insinuations of Iago; for, had the guilt of Desdemona rested on the very slender authority of the handkerchief alone, even Shakespeare's genius could hardly have reconciled us to the delusion of Othello. The evidence adduced by Iachimo is of a much stronger nature: his confidence and gaiety gave an air of truth to his narrative; and, though we may blame the two easy credulity of Posthumus, we cannot denounce it as either imbecile or unnatural. Sir Cloten has been pronounced a contradiction, from the opposite humours of which he is so singular a compound being seldom or never found united in one person. The elements of which this strange character is composed are egregious vanity, noisy valour, with something approaching to shrewdness and good sense. Andrew Aguecheek is a fool by nature-Cloten by education. The one is the perfection of innate fatuity-the other of arrogant folly, that has been taught to value nothing beyond its royal birthright. Mere imbecility is not a fit subject for mirth: we can scarcely laugh at an object whose helplessness rather claims our pity; and Sir Andrew, spite of the ludicrous situations in which he is placed, is somewhat allied to this feeling. But Cloten provokes our heartiest merriment by his wilful folly and pompous inanity. Interspersed throughout this play are innumerable passages of descriptive beauty, just sentiment, and deep pathos. The song in the ante-chamber, and the funeral dirge, are among those rare poetical gems that Shakespeare introduces with such wonderful effect in many of his dramas. The sublime muse of Collins has tried her strength on this hallowed ground; and strains of more affecting simplicity were never sung by the poet. The scenes are agreeably diversified, infinitely too much so for"Those blind disciples of the schools, Who laugh and cry by Aristotle's rules." The re-appearance of Posthumus, the confusion of Iachimo, the compunction of Cymbeline, and the recognition of Guiderius and Arviragus, render the last peculiarly effective. This excellence has been noticed by Steevens, who challenges the admirers of Ben Jonson to point out the conclusion of any one of his plays which is wrought with more artifice, and with a less degree of dramatic violence, than this. The forgiveness of Iachimo's baseness by Posthumus is conveyed in language equally lofty and generous: "Kneel not to me: The power that I have on you is to spare you; Garrick's Posthumus has been pronounced one of his finest performances. His immediate successors in the character were Powell and Reddish. But we are quite satisfied-looking at Posthumus as Shakespeare has delineated him—that the acting of the late Mr. Kemble was perfect. Many parts of the character were given by Mr. Kean with strong effect, but the excellence of his Richard and Shylock throws every one of his less perfect performances into the shade. Mr. Charles Kemble is the best Posthumus since the days of his brother. His agony and impatience when he strikes the supposed Page, and his sudden burst of joy when he discovers that Imogen still lives, were Shakespeare all over. An The Iachimo of Cooke, like many of that great actor's performances, was very unequal. He had all the art of the crafty Italian, but none of the careless gaiety. There were, however, scenes of transcendant skill. His look and manner, where he emerges from the chest, in Imogen's chamber, were terribly impressive. aspect of more super-human villany, dashed with fearful apprehension, was never exhibited on the stage. The audience were hushed into the deepest silence by his half-broken, yet distinct whispers. His death-like tread, rendered the sleep of Imogen more profound! His gloating eye, wandering over her beautieshis breathless caution when he unclasps the bracelet-the irresolution and fear that alternately retard and hasten his return to the chest-and his fiend-like smile of exultation when he closes the lid, were studies that every actor, who aspires to histrionic excellence, would do well to profit by. Mr. Young's Iachimo, considered as a whole, is, pernaps, superior to Mr. Cooke's, because it is throughout more consistent. It is the result of deep reflection and consummate art. The art may occasionally be too apparent; but it is so modulated and softened down, as to follow hard upon nature. Siddons. hen in her meridian, assumed the garb of Imogen; and we have it from the best authority, to say, that she threw into it all the force of her amazing genius. No actress, in our time, ever gave to this lovely character the true Shakespearian colouring but Mrs. Jordan. All other attempts have fallen short of the delicacy, the tenderness, the pastoral simplicity of this paragon of womankind. Cloten, in the hands of the late Bob Palmer, was an amusing picture of stupid arrogance. Farley has all the pertness and flippancy of this court fool; but the ridiculous vanity and folly of Cloten are the true properties of Liston. Why does not this genuine actor cast off his parts of insipid buffoonery, and return to Shakespeare? He shall be received like the truant prodigal-and have the best fatted calf! Does he want wit? Malvolio is made ready to his hand. Does he want drollery and quaint humour? Let him turn to Launce, Dogberry, and good Master Launcelot Gobbo. A reputation founded on the just performance of characters like these, shall transmit him as a great actor to posterity; and for a very sufficient reason-that they will always be read and remembered with delight; whereas the utmost indulgence that a large proportion of the herd of modern playwrights can hope from posterity will be an act of oblivion. London, 1828. D. G. Characters appear. PISANIO.-At pages 12, 16, 18, 19, 25, 26, 27, 33, 38, 40, 48, 53, 59, 61, 78. 12, 16, 18, 33, 36, 76. 15 twice, 17, 24, 26, 58 15 twice, 17, 24, 46, 58, 79. 15, 19, 27, 35, 37, 39, 48, change 53, change 61, 65, 69, 79. 5 twice, 20, 35, 38, 49. 15, change 20, 41, 46, change 75, change 76, change 77, 79. 16, 37, 48, 58, 78. 16, 37, 46, 58, 78. LUCIUS. at pages, 46, 72, 76, 79. ROMAN OFFICERS and SOLDIERS.} at pages 46, 72, 76. BELARIUS.-at pages 50, 62, 65, 67 twice, 71, 74, 76, 78. GUIDERIUS. 50, 62, 65, twice, 69, 74, 76, 78. ARVIRAGUS. 19 50, 62, 65, 67 twice, 74, 76, 7o CYMBELINE. ACT I. SCENE FIRST.-Britain. The Garden behind Cymbeline's Palace. (2nd grooves.) Enter PISANIO and MADAN, L. PISAN. (R. C.) You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers'. MADAN. (L.C.) But what's the matter? PISAN. His daughter, and the heir of his kingdom, whom That late he married,) hath referr'd herself Is outward sorrow; though, I think, the king MADAN. Nene but the king? MADAN. MADAN. What's his name, and birth? His father 13 |