Did come to languish; and, indeed, my Lord,
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jacques,
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.
Duke.

But what said JACQUES ?
Did he not moralize this spectacle ?

Lord. O, yes ! into a thousand similes.
First, for his weeping in the needless stream;
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak'st a testament
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more
To that which had too much : Then, being alone,
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends;
'Tis right, quoth he; thus MISERY doth part

The flux of company: Anon a careless herd,
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him,
And never stays to greet him; Ay, quoth JAQUES,
Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ;
'Tis just the fashion: Wherefore do you look

Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? " According to this description," says Mr. Richardson, "the most striking character in the mind of JACQUES, is extreme sensibility. He discovers a heart strongly disposed to compassion, and susceptible of the most tender impressions of friendship; for he that can so feelingly deplore the absence of kindness and humanity, must be capable of relishing the delight annexed to their exercise. But Sensibility is the soil where Nature has planted sweet and social affections. By Sensibility they are cherished and grow mature. Social disposi

a

tions produce all those amiable and endearing connexions that alleviate the sorrows of human life, adorn and render us happy. Now JACQUES, avoiding society, and burying himself in the lonely forest, seems to act inconsistently with his constitution. He possesses sensibility, sensibility begets affection, and affection begets the love of society. But JACQUES is unsocial. Can these inconsistent qualities be reconciled ? Or, has SHAKSPEARE exhibited character of which the parts are incongruous and discordant? In other words, how happens it, that a temper disposed to beneficence, and addicted to social enjoyment, becomes solitary and morose ? Changes of this kind are not unfrequent. And if researches into the origin or cause of a distemper can direct us in the discovery of an antidote or a remedy, our present inquiry is of importance. Perhaps the excess and luxuriancy of benevolent dispositions, blighted by unkindness or ingratitude, is the cause that, instead of yielding us fruits of complacency and friendship, they shed bitter drops of misanthropy. The novice who vainly trusted to the benevolence of mankind, will suddenly find himself alone and desolate in the midst of a selfish and deceitful world. Like an enchanted traveller who imagines he is journeying through a region of delight, till he drinks of some bitter fountain; and instantly, instead of flowery fields and meadows, he finds himself destitute and forlorn, amidst the horrors of a dreary desert."

It is pleasing, however, to observe, that the melancholy of Jacques does not extinguish his benevolence, which makes him interested in the improvement of mankind. The manner after which he displays this inclination of rendering some service to his fellow-creatures, is marked by a spirit of singular originality.

Duke. What! you look merrily!

Jacq. A fool, a fool!- I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool ;-a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool ;
Wholaid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms-and yet a motley fool.
Good-morrow, fool, quoth I: No, sir, quoth he,
Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune :
And then he drew a dial from his poke;
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock :
Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags!
'Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine ;
And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven ;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And so, from hour to hour, we rot and rot,
And thereby hangs a tale!

0! noble fool! A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear! The Duke, naturally anxious to know more of this Fool, makes an inquiry respecting him; and mark the reply:

Duke. What Fool is this?

Jacq. O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier ;
And says, if ladies be but young, and fair,
They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,-

Which is as dry as the remainder bisket
After a voyage, -he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents
In mangled forms :-0, that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Duke. Thou shalt have one,
Jacq.

It is my only suit ;
Provided, that you weed your better judgments
Of all opinion that grows rank in them,
That I am wise, I must have liberty
Withal, as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom ! please ; for so fools have :
And they that are most galled with my folly,
They most must laugh: And why, sir, must they so ?
The why is plain as way to parish church,
Invest me in my motley ; give me leave
To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of the INFECTED WORLD,
If they will patiently receive my medicine.

After this specimen of his moralizing strain, we cannot be surprised at the representation given by him of Human Life in SEVEN STAGES, which is the subject of our present illustration,

:

All the WORLD'S a Stage,
And all the men and women merely playe
They have their exits, and their entrances ;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being SEVEN AGES! At first, the Infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
And then, the whining School-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school : And then the Lover;
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow: Then, a Soldier ;
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth : And then, the Justice; In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances, And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd Pantaloon ; With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is Second Childishness, and mere oblivion ; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. That this is a true but melancholy picture of Human Life will not be denied; but it beco us to remember what sort of a character has presented us with it. The melancholy, moralizing, and satirical JACQUES, has imparted the hue of his mind to this sombrous delineation. It has been observed that, the mind in a gay and healthful state receives hope and enjoyment from every object around us; and that the same objects, if we languish and despair, are regarded with disgust and indifference. Hence says Poseidippus, morose and out of humour with his condition, "What path of life would you pursue? In public you are perplexed with business and contention ; at home you are tired with cares; in the country you are fatigued with labour ; at sea you are exposed to danger; in a foreign land, if rich, you are fearful; if poor, neglected. Have you a wife? expect sorrow: un