And thou, O wall, thou sweet and lovely wall,

That stands between her father's ground and mine; Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,

Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne. [Wall holds up his fingers. Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this! Bat what see I? No Thisby do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss; Curs'd be thy stones for thus deceiving me!

The. The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

Bot. No, in truth, sir, he should not. "Deceiving me" is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you :-Yonder she comes.

This. My love! thou art my love, I think.

Pyr. Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace;

And like Limander am I trusty still.

This. And I like Helen, til: the fates me kill.

Pr. Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.
This. As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

Pyr. O, kiss me through the hofe of this vile wall.
This. I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.

Pyr. Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?
This. Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay.
Wall. Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.

[Exeunt WALL, PYRAMUS, and THISBE. The. Now is the mural down between the two neighhours.

Dem. No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning.

Hip. This is the silliest stuff that e'er I heard. The. The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them.

Hip. It must be your imagination, then, and not

theirs.

The. If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion.

Enter LION and MOONSHINE.

Lim. You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now, perchance, both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am

A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam:

For if I should as lion come in strife

Into this place, 't were pity of my life.

The. A very gentle beast, and of a good con

science

Mom. This lantern doth the horned moon present. Dem. He should have worn the horns on his head. The. He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference.

Moon. This lantern doth the horned moon present; Myself the man i' th' moon do seem to be.

The. This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lantern: How is it else the man i' the moon?

Dem. He dares not come there for the candle: for, see, it is already in snuff.

Pyr. Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering streams,
I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight.
But stay ;-0 spite!

But mark ;-Poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here?
Eyes, do you see?

How can it be?

O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,

What, stain'd with blood?
Approach, ye furies fell!

O fates! come, come;

Cut thread and thrum;

Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!

The. This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.

Hip. Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.
Pyr. O, wherefore, nature, didst thou lions frame?
Since lion viie hath here deflour'd my dear:

Which is no, no-which was the fairest dame,
That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheer.
Come, tears, confound;

Out, sword, and wound

The pap of Pyramus:
Ay, that left

pap

Where heart doth hop:Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.

Now am I dead,

Now am I fled;

My soul is in the sky:

Tongue, lose thy light!
Moon, take thy flight!

Now die, die, die, die, die. [Dies.-Erit MOONSHINE. Dem. No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but

one.

Lys. Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.

The. With the help of a surgeon, he might yet recover and prove an ass.

gone,

before Thisbe

Hip. How chance Moonshine is comes back and finds her lover? The. She will find him by starlight.-Here she comes; and her passion ends the play.

Enter THISBE.

Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief.

Dem. A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus which Thisbe, is the better.

Lys. She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. Dem. And thus she moans, videlicet.

The. Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. Dem. Ay, and Wall too.

Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance, between two of our company?

a

The. No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs Ic excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there need none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus, and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone.

[Here a dance of Clowns. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:Lovers to bed: 't is almost fairy time.

I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn,

As much as we this night have overwatch'd.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguil'd

The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.-
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels, and new jollity.

SCENE II.

Enter PUCK.

Puck. Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon ;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,

[Exeunt.

Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, Puts the wretch, that lies in woe, In remembrance of a shroud.

Now it is the time of night,

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run

By the triple Hecate's b

team,

From the presence of the sun,

Following darkness like a dream,

An Italian dance, after the manner of the peasants of Ber

Now are frolic; not a mouse

Shall disturb this hallow'd house: I am sent, with broom before,

To sweep the dust behind the door.

Enter OBERON and TITANIA, with their Tra

Obe. Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire;
Every elf, and fairy sprite,

Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it, trippingly.
Tita. First, rehearse this song by rote:
To each word a warbling note,
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.

SONG, AND DANCE.

Obe. Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be:
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;

And the blots of Nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,

Shall upon their children be

With this field-dew consecrate,

Every fairy take his gait;

And each several chamber bless,

Through this palace with sweet peacc;
Ever shall in safety rest,

And the owner of it blest.

Trip away;

Make no stay:

Meet me all by break of day.

[Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and Train.

Puck. If we shadows have offended,

Think but this, (and all is mended,)

That you have but slumber'd here,
While these visions did appear.

And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend;
If you pardon, we will mend.
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck,
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends, ere long:
Else the Puck a liar call.

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.

[Exit

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW' was first printed in the folio collection of Shakspere's Plays in 1623. In 1594 'A plesant conceited Historie called the Taming of a Shrew' was printed. This play, it is thought, preceded Shakspere's Taming of the Shrew.' This comedy of some unknown author opens with an Induction, the characters of which are a Lord, Slie, a Tapster, Page, Players, and Huntsinen. The incidents are precisely the same as those of the play which we call Shakspere's. The scene of The Taming of a Shrew' is laid at Athens; that of Shakspere's at Padua. The Athens of the one and the Padua of the other are resorts of learning. Alfonso, a merchant of Athens, (the Baptista of Shakspere,) has three daughters, Kate, Emelia, and Phylema. Aurelius, son of the Duke of Cestus (Sestos), is enamoured of one, Polidor of another, and Ferando (the Petrucio of Shakspere) of Kate, the Shrew. The merchant hath sworn, before he will allow his two younger daughters to be addressed by suitors, that

"His eldest daughter first shall be espous'd." The wooing of Kate by Ferando is exactly in the same spirit as the wooing by Petrucio; so is the marriage; so the lenten entertainment of the bride in Ferando's country-house; so the scene with the Tailor and Haberdasher; so the prostrate obedience of the tamed Shrew. The under-plot, however, is different. But all parties are ultimately happy and pleased; and the comedy ends with the wager, as in Shakspere, about the obedience of the several wives. This undoubted resemblance involves some necessity for conjecture, with very little guide from evidence. The first and most obvious hypothesis is, that The Taming of a Shrew was an older play than Shakspere's; and that he borrowed from that comedy. But we propose another theory. Was there not an older play than 'The Taming of a Shrew,' which furnished the main plot, some of the characters, and a small part of the dialogue, both to the author of The Taming of a Shrew' and the author of The Taming of the Shrew?' This play we may believe, without any violation of fact or probability, to have been used as the rude material for both authors to work upon. Whether the author or improver of the play printed in 1594 be Marlowe or Greene (to each of whom the comedy has been assigned), there can be little question as to the characteristic superiority of Shakspere's work.

But there is a third theory-that of Tieck-that 'The Taming of a Shrew' was a youthful work of Shakspere himself. To our minds that play is totally different from the imagery and the versification of Shakspere.

Shakspere's Taming of the Shrew was produced in a "taming" age. Men tamed each other by the axe and the fagot; parents tamed their children by the rod and the ferule, as they stood or knelt in trembling

silence before those who had given them life; and, although England was then called the "paradise of women," and, as opposed to the treatment of horses, they were treated "obsequiously," husbands thought that " taming," after the manner of Petrucio, by oaths and starvation, was a commendable fashion.

We are the happier our fortune-living in an age when this practice of Petrucio is not universally considered orthodox; and we owe a great deal to him who has exhibited the secrets of the "taming school" with so much spirit in this comedy, for the better belief of our age, that violence is not to be subdued by violence. Pardon be for him, if, treading in the footsteps of some predecessor whose sympathies with the peaceful and the beautiful were immeasurably inferior to his own, and sacrificing something to the popular appetite, he should have made the husband of a froward woman "kill her in her own humour," and bring her upon her knees to the abject obedience of a revolted but penitent slave:

"A foul contending rebel,

And graceless traitor to her loving lord." Pardon for him? If there be one reader of Shakspere, and especially if that reader be a female, who cherishes unmixed indignation when Petrucio, in his triumph, exclaims

"He that knows better how to tame a shrew,

Now let him speak "—

we would say, the indignation which you feel, and in which thousands sympathise, belongs to the age in which you live; but the principle of justice, and of justice to women above all, from which it springs, has been established, more than by any other lessons of human origin, by him who has now moved your anger. It is to him that woman owes, more than to any other human authority, the popular elevation of the feminine character, by the most matchless delineations of its purity, its faith, its disinterestedness, its tenderness, its heroism, its union of intellect and sensibility. It is he that, as long as the power of influencing mankind by high thoughts, clothed in the most exquisite language, shall endure, will preserve the ideal elevation of women pure and unassailable from the attacks of coarseness or libertinism,-ay, and even from the degradation of the example of the crafty and worldly-minded of their own sex-for it is he that has delineated the ingenuous and trusting Imogen, the guileless Perdita, the impassioned Juliet, the heart-stricken but loving Desdemona, the generous and courageous Portia, the unconquerable Isabella, the playful Rosalind, the world-unknowing Miranda. Shakspere may have exhibited one froward woman wrongly tamed; but who can estimate the number of those from whom his all-penetrating influence has averted the curse of being froward?