What could Rosalind ask of Phebe that she would not do? We blush as we pause for your reply. And heard you ever tell of so lowly a swain as Sylvius, who says, "So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I should think it a most plenteous crop,

To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.

"

And then he listens, unreproachfully, to his savage mistress, while passionately and poetically she paints to the life the imagined man for whom she dies. 'Tis a pretty passage as any in "As You Like it;" it shews how by" the flame," may even the commonest the meanest spirit be inspired, and we almost admire the more than voluble, the eloquent wood-lass, whom her stars have destined, after no very grievous disappointment in her ewe-love, in good time to be Mrs Sylvius of " The Tuft of Olives."

Celia, too, the affectionate, faithful friend, who sympathizing with her sister's love, thought not that such a misfortune was ever to befall herselfCelia, too, has taken the forest fever, her pulse is up to a hundred at the lowest, and she should go to her bed. She has caught the infection from a man, who, by his own account, only a few hours before was "a wretched ragged man, overgrown with hair."

"Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaintance you should like her? That but seeing, you should love her? and loving, woo? and wooing, she should

grant? and will you persevere to enjoy her?

Oli. Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, I love Aliena; say with her, that she loves me; consent with both, that we may enjoy each other; it shall be to your good; for my father's house, and all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's, will I estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd.

Orl. You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow: thither will I invite the Duke, and all his contented followers go you, and prepare Aliena; for, look you, here comes my Rosalind. Ros. God save you, brother. Orl. And you, fair sister.

Ros. Oh, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf.

Orl. It is my arm.

Ros. I thought, thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.

Orl. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.

Ros. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon, when he showed me your handkerchief?

Orl. Ay, and greater wonders than that. Ros. Oh, I know where you are:Nay, 'tis true; there was never any thing so sudden, but the fight of two rams, and Cæsar's thrasonical brag of-I came, saw, and overcame. For your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked, but they loved; no sooner loved, but they sighed; no sooner sighed, but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the remedy: and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else be incontinent before marriage; they are in the very wrath of love, and they will together; clubs cannot part

them."

Dr Samuel Johnson saith, "of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I know not how the ladies will approve the facility with which both Rosalind and Celia give away their hearts. To Celia much may be forgiven for the heroism of her friendship." The ladies, we are sure, have forgiven Rosalind. What say they to Celia? They look down-blush -shake head-smile-and say, "Celia knew Oliver was Orlando's brother, and in her friendship for Rosalind, she felt how delightful it would be for them two to be sisters-in-law

as well as cousins. Secondly, Oliver had made a narrow escape of being stung by a serpent, and devoured by a lioness-and pity is akin to love,' Thirdly, he had truly repented him of his former wickedness.

''Twas I, but 'tis not I; I do not shame To tell you what I was, since my conversion

So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.' Fourthly, 'twas religiously done by him, that settlement of all the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's upon Orlando. Fifthly, what but true love, following true contrition, could have impelled him thus to give all up to his younger brother, and desire to marry Aliena, who with a kind of umber had smirched her face,'

a woman low and browner than her brother?' Sixthly, 'tell me where is fancy bred? At the eyes." Thank thee-ma douce philosophe. There is a kiss for thee, flung off the rainbow of our Flamingo!

But where all this time hath been Touchstone? Teazing Jaques and courting Audrey.

"Touch. To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will we be married.

Aud. I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is no dishonest desire, to desire to be a woman of the world.

(Another part of the Forest.)

Jac. Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools.

Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all! # * I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country copulatives, to swear, and to forswear; according as marriage binds, and blood breaks : A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will: Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor-house; as your pearl, in your foul oyster.”

All flows on swimmingly now. Rosalind is indeed the Forest Queen. She rules with still but sovereign sway, and with what sweet dignity does she administer the laws!

"Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To the DUKE, To you I give myself, for I am yours. [To ORLANDO. Duke. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter.

Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.

Phe. If sight and shape be true, Why then, my love adieu! Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he :[To the DUKE. I'll have no husband, if you be not he :[TO ORLANDO.

Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. [TO PHEBE.

Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion;
'Tis I must make conclusion

Of these most strange events;
Here's eight that must take hands,
To join in Hymen's bands,

If truth holds true contents.
You and you no cross shall part.

[To ORLANDO and ROSALIND. You and you are heart in heart.

[To OLIVER and CELIA. You [To PHEBE] to his love must accord,

Or have a woman to your lord;
You and you are sure together,

[To TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.
As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning;
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things
finish.

Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. [To SYLVIUS."

Now, we call "As you Like it," the only true "Romance of the Forest." Touching as it is, and sometimes even pathetic, 'tis all but beautiful holyday amusement, and a quiet melancholy alternates with various mirth. The contrivance of the whole is at once simple and skilful-art and nature are at one. We are removed just so far out of our customary world as to feel willing to submit to any spell, however strange, without losing any of our sympathies with all life's best realities. Orlando, the outlaw, calls Arden a desert inaccessible;" and it is so; yet, at the same time, Charles the King's Wrestler's account of it was correct "They say he is already in the

Forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world." The wide woods are full of deer, and in open places are feeding sheep. Yet in the brakes "hiss green and gilded snakes," whose bite is mortal; and "under the bush's shade a lioness with udders all drawn dry lies couching." Some may think they have no business there." Yet give they not something of an imaginative" salvage" character-a dimness of peril and fear to the depths of the forest? But it hath, or is believed to have, other and mysterious dwellers.

C

"Duke. Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy

do all this that he has promised? Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes not;

As those that fear they hope, and know they fear.

What is it? Why, don't you remember that when Orlando said to the Boy-Rosalind, "I can live no longer by thinking," what was her reply? Oliver was about to be married to Celia, and Orlando disconsolately and bitterly complained

"They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the Duke to the nuptial. But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I tomorrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy, in having what he wishes for.

Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?

Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. Ros. I will weary you no longer then with idle talking. Know of me then, (for now I speak to some purpose,) that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit; I speak not this, that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch, I say, I know you are; &c. Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I have, since I was three

years old, conversed with a magician, most profound in this art, and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her:-I know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes tomorrow, human as she is, and without any danger.

Orl. Speakest thou in sober mean

ings?

Ros. By my life, I do; which I tender Therefore, put you in your best array, dearly, though I say I am a magician : bid your friends; for if you will be mar ried to morrow, you shall; and to Rosalind, if you will."

Now Orlando believed in this magician, and why won't you? There was much magic in the olden time, and where might magician find a fitter cell, grot, or cave, than in the Forest of Arden? It had, too, its hermit, for Jaques de Bois tells the marriage assemblage,

"Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day

Men of great worth resorted to this fo rest,

Address'd a mighty power; which were In his own conduct, purposely to take on foot, His brother here, and put him to the sword;

And to the skirts of this wild wood he

came;

Where, meeting with an old religious

man,

After some question with him, was con verted

Both from his enterprise, and from the world:

His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,

And all their lands restor❜d to them again That were with him exil'd."

But Rosalind-she is the Starthe Evening and the Morning Starsetting and rising in that visionary slivan world--and we leave herunobscured-but from our eyes hid den-in that immortal umbrage.