HERE is a prodigal and glorious throng of incident and character in this very excellent comedy: for variety, and broad, unceasing effect, it stands perhaps unrivalled. Each individual member of the breathing group-the wives, the husbands, the doctor, parson, mine Host of the Garter, Shallow, Slender; every character, in short, from Falstaff and his satellites to Simple and Rugby-stands out in the clearest light, and assists in reflecting the sunshine of the author's intellect for the delight and instruction of the reader or spectator. It has been said, and truly, that Falstaff, in this play, is not so unctuous and irresistible as in the two parts of "HENRY IV.;" but, if the Falstaff of Windsor must succumb to him of Gadshill and Shrewsbury, it should in fairness be added, "Nought but himself can be his conqueror." Even the unsuspected gullibility of the unfortunate old boy, as drawn forth of him by the witcheries of the wicked wives, places him in an amiable point of view, and raises a new sensation in his favour. Our choler would rise, despite of us, against Cleopatra herself, should she presume to make a dupe and tool of regal old Jack, the natural lord and master of all about him: and, although not so atrociously immoral as to wish he had succeeded with the Windsor gipsies, we yet plead guilty to the minor turpitude of sympathy, when he tells his persecutors, with brightening visage and exultant twinkle of eye, "I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced." The serious part of this play bears but a small proportion to the facetious, but is equally good in its kind. The softer sentiment is confined to Fenton and Anne Page, both of whom give indications of possessing very loveable natures, although their persons seem thrust into a corner (an arrangement to which the lovers themselves would probably start no objection) by the crowd of comic roysterers. The "MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR," in its present finished state, originally appeared in the first folio (1623). It had been twice previously published in quarto (1602 and 1619); but the play in both these editions is comparatively meagre, and evinces that considerable labour was employed by the poet in bringing it to maturity. Tradition states that the "MERRY WIVES" was written at the command of Queen Elizabeth, and that the prolific brain of the poet gave birth to it in fourteen days. There is nothing either improbable or important in the legend. All we would say of it is, that if we are really indebted for so admirable a play to the stately old damsel's desire to see Falstaff in love, we are more than ever her maiden majesty's devoted servants, and hope she enjoyed a fair portion of that delight in the realisation of her wishes which it has now for more than two centuries afforded to the public. There are various old stories and dramas from which Shakspere may have gathered hints for the dilemmas in which Falstaff is involved in the present play: but the tale of "THE LOVERS OF PISA," in a collection called "TARLETON'S NEWES OUT OF PURGATORIE," appears to have been the immediate source of his inspiration in this particular. The coincidences, however, do not extend to the characters. The lover in the tale is a handsome youth, and really favoured by the young lady, who plots with him to deceive her husband, a jealous old physician. In the play, literally speaking, the lover is old, the wives not young, and their husbands of corresponding ages: but, poetically considered, they and the whole dramatis persona are all dainty juveniles together, and can never lose their freshness while the language lasts in which they are embodied. J. O. Eva. The dozen white louses do become an old coat well; it agrees well, passant: it is a familiar beast to man, and signifies-love. Shal. The luce is the fresh fish; the salt fish is an old coat. Slen. I may quarter, coz? Shal. You may, by marrying. Eva. It is marring, indeed, if he quarter it. Shal. Not a whit. Eva. Yes, py 'r-lady; if he has a quarter of your coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple conjectures: but this is all one: If Sir John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, I am of the church, and will be glad to do my benevolence, to make atonements and compromises between you. Shal. The Council shall hear it; it is a riot. Eva. It is not meet the Council hear a riot; there is no fear of Got in a riot: the Council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot; take your vizaments in that. Shal. Ha! o' my life, if I were young again, the sword should end it. Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it: and there is another device in my prain, which peradventure prings goot discretions with it: There is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master George Page, which is pretty virginity. Slen. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and speaks small like a woman. Eva. It is that fery person for all the 'orld, as just as you will desire; and seven hundred pounds of monies, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire, upon his death's-bed, (Got deliver to a joyful resurrections!) give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years old: it were a goot motion, if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master Abraham and Mistress Anne Page. Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound? Eva. Ay, and her father is make her a patter penny. Shal. I know the young gentlewoman; she has good gifts. Eva. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, is good gifts. Shal. Well, let us see honest Master Page: Is Falstaff there? Eva. Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar, as I do despise one that is false; or, as I despise one that is not true. The knight, Sir John, is there; and I beseech you, be ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the door [knocks] for Master Page. What, hoa! Got pless your house here! Enter PAGE. Page. Who's there? Eva. Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and Justice Shallow: and here is young Master Slender, that peradventures shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your likings. Page. I am glad to see your worships well: I thank you for my venison, Master Shallow. Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you: Much good do it your good heart! I wished your venison better; it was ill-killed:-How doth good Mistress Page?-and I thank you always with my heart, la; with my heart. Page. Sir, I thank you. Shal. Sir, I thank you; by yea and no, I do. Page. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender. Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say, he was out-run on Cotsall. Page. It could not be judged, sir. Slen. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. Shal. That he will not;-'tis your fault, 'tis your fault-Tis a good dog. Page. A cur, sir. Shal. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog; can there be more said? he is good and fair.— Is Sir John Falstaff here? Page. Sir, he is within; and I would I could do a good office between you. Eva. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak. Shal. He hath wronged me, Master Page. Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. Shal. If it be confessed, it is not redressed; is not that so, Master Page? He hath wronged me; indeed he hath ;-at a word he hath ;-believe me; -Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he is wronged. Page. Here comes Sir John. Enter SIR JOHN FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, NYM, and PISTOL. Fal. Now, Master Shallow; you'll complain of me to the king. Shal. Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and broke open my lodge. Fal. But not kissed your keeper's daughter? Shal. Tut, a pin! this shall be answered. Fal. I will answer it straight;--I have done all this-That is now answered. Shal. The Council shall know this. Fal. 'Twere better for you, if it were known in counsel you'll be laughed at. Era. Pauca verba, Sir John, goot worts. Fal. Good worts! good cabbage.-Slender, I broke your head; What matter have you against me? Slen. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you; and against your coney-catching |