Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people.

Por. It is almost morning,

And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Of these events at full. Let us go in;
And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gra. Let it be so. The first inter'gatory
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day;
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

[Exeunt.

Or the Merchant of Venice the style is even and easy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of construction.

The comic part

raises laughter, and the serious fixes expectation. The probability of

either one or the other story cannot be maintained.

actions in one event is in this drama eminently happy.

The union of two

Dryden was much

pleased with his own address in connecting the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which yet, I believe, the critic will find excelled by this play.

JOHNSON.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

DR. GREY and Mr. Upton asserted that this play was certainly borrowed from the Coke's Tale of Gamelyn, printed in Urry's Chaucer; but it is hardly likely that Shakspeare saw that in manuscript, and there is a more obvious source from whence he derived his plot, viz. the pastoral romance of "Rosalynde, or Euphues' Golden Legacy," by Thomas Lodge, first printed in 1590. From this he has sketched his principal characters, and constructed his plot; but those admirable beings, the melancholy Jaques, the witty Touchstone, and his Audrey, are of the poet's own creation. Lodge's novel is one of those tiresome (I had almost said unnatural) pastoral romances, of which the Euphues of Lyly and the Arcadia of Sidney were also popular examples. It has, however, the redeeming merit of some very beautiful verses interspersed; * and the circumstance of its hav

*The following beautiful stanzas are part of what is called "Rosalynd's Madrigal,” and are not unworthy of a place even in a page devoted to Shakspeare :

Love in my bosom like a bee

Doth suck his sweet:

Now with his wings he plays with me,

Now with his feet.

Within mine eyes he makes his nest,

His bed amidst my tender breast;

My kisses are his daily feast;

And yet he robs me of my rest

Ah, wanton, will ye?

And if I sleep, then percheth he
With pretty flight,

And makes a pillow of my knee

The livelong night.

Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;

He music plays, if so I sing;

He lends me every lovely thing;

Yet, cruel, he my heart doth sting.

Whist, wanton, still ye?