scarecrows, who had taken advantage of his condition to filch his wallet. When the three rascals are brought before Sir John to answer the charge, Master Slender swears by his gloves that Pistol had picked his pocket. Pistol rails at his accuser, calling him a mountain foreigner and latten bilbo, and challenges him to mortal combat.

Alarmed by this bluster, Slender turns and swears, again by his gloves, that Nym had robbed him; but that brazen scoundrel gives him the lie in the throat as loudly as his fellow footpad. Then Master Slender, who had been too far gone to note the individual thief, swears by his hat-a more formidable oath-that Bardolph was the pickpocket. But he of the flaming nose also makes vigorous and threatening denial, and avers that the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five sentences.

Whereupon Master Slender proclaims that he is not altogether an ass, and that, for this trick, he'll never be drunk again, except in honest, civil and godly company. "If I be drunk," he solemnly avers, "I'll be drunk with those who have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves."

This resolve is equivalent to a vow of total abstinence, and, as Evans, the Welshman, remarks, Master Slender's pledge shows a virtuous mind. The others, however, do not take the lesson to heart, for they promptly accept Master Page's invitation to go indoors and "drink down all unkindness."

The lad who served them in "Henry V." gave a piquant sketch of Falstaff's vagabond crew. "I am boy to them all three," said this precocious imp, who wished on the battlefield to exchange all his fame for a pot of ale and safety:

But all they three, would they serve me, could not be man to me, for three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is red-faced and white liver'd; by the means whereof a' faces

it out and fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue and a quiet sword; by the means whereof a' breaks words and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath heard that men of few words are the best men; and, therefore, a' scorns to say his prayers, lest a' should be thought a coward; but his few words are matched with as few good deeds; for a' never broke any man's head but his own, and that was against a post when he was drunk.

Bardolph was hung for stealing a pax, Nym keeping him company on the gallows, for they were "sworn brothers in filching." After receiving his cudgeling and eating the leek, Pistol returned to England to exhibit his bruises as scars got in the Gallia wars, and to round up his days in swaggering and thieving expeditions "among foaming bottles and ale-washed wits."

We have another type of drunkard in "The Taming of the Shrew." Christopher Sly is a tinker who spends most of his time at the alehouse-a doltish sot, with scarce a thought above the liquor he guzzles. A lord coming from the chase finds him stretched in drunken sleep on a bench outside the tavern. "O, monstrous beast," exclaims his lordship; "how like a swine he lies!"

He determines to practice a rare jest on the unconscious tinker. The attendants are directed to carry Sly to the fairest chamber in the nobleman's mansion, to wrap him in clean clothes, to put rings upon his fingers and prepare him a most delicate banquet. His foul head is to be balmed in distilled waters,, and sweet wood burned to make the lodgings sweet. Submissive servants are to do him reverence and administer to his wants as though he were indeed their lord and master; and the page, dressed as a lady, is, with soft tongue and lowly courtesy, to act the part of a dutiful and loving wife.

These directions are carefully carried out. Sly awakes in the perfumed chamber. He heeds not the silver basin, full of rosewater and decked with flowers. He stares with dumb astonishment at the obsequious menials. The signs of luxury do not move his muddled mind; they

are utterly beyond its besotted range. But he is afflicted with one great absorbing want which the rich surroundings seem unable to gratify. "For God's sake," he cries at last, with the drunkard's desperate craving; "for God's sake, a pot of small ale."

The servants are shocked. They ask if it will please his lordship to drink a cup of sack. Sack! He has never tasted sack! He wants no new-fangled liquor; his sole desire is for common everyday ale.

They endeavor to incite his fancy to higher flights. They regret that a man of such fine esteem should be infused with so foul a spirit. They ask him if he will have music, for Apollo shall play for him, and 20 caged nightingales shall sing. Or will he walk? They will bestrew the ground with flowers. Or will he ride? His horses shall be trapped, their harness studded all with gold and pearls. Did he love hawking? He has hawks that will soar above the morning lark.

Or will he hunt? His hounds shall make the welkin answer them and fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. Say he will course. His greyhounds are as swift as breathed stags, aye, fleeter than the roe. Does he love pictures? They will fetch him straight

Adonis painted by a running brook,

And Cytherea all in sedges hid,

Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

They finally convince the loutish tinker that he really is a lord, and that he has a wife far more beautiful than any woman in this waning age. His senses respond slowly to the situation. He smells sweet savors and feels soft things. But he is still the vulgar drunkard in spite of his flickering conceit of nobility. Ere he tests any of the delights at his disposal, his mind reverts to that acute waking want, and he cries more desperately than before: "Once again, a pot of the smallest ale!"

For some reason unexplained by the context, this rare jest has no adequate conclusion. A messenger announces that his honor's players have come to enact a pleasant comedy

And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.

The tinker has an idea that a "commonty" is a "Christmas gambold or a tumbling trick." He consents

He

to see it, and the adventures of Katherine and Petruchio begin. At the end of the first scene Sly is nodding. yawns as he asks if there is any more of it. ""Tis a very excellent piece of work," he assures "madam lady," the page, but he wishes 'twere done. Then there is the stage direction, "they sit and wait," and we see no more of Christopher Sly.

Perhaps the lord found him too stupid to provide further entertainment, or the tinker so far forgot himself that it was found prudent to make him drunk again and lay him insensible in front of the Wincot alehouse. Or it may be that the great craftsman, satisfied with showing that no position in life can abate the foul instincts of a common drunkard, let the unfinished sketch stand as a realistic cameo of Elizabethan times.

THE DRAMA OF DRINK

I do love Cassio well; and would do much
To cure him of this evil.

-OTHELLO.

Shakespeare's villains sometimes ply their wicked arts with the aid of liquor. That demi-devil Iago, who knew all qualities of human dealings with a learned spirit, inveigled Cassio to ruin with wine. Notwithstanding all his merits and manliness, there was a weak spot in the lieutenant's character. He could not drink like most men of his time. He had an ingraft infirmity which rendered him unduly susceptible to the baleful action of liquor. What would not seriously affect an ordinary drinker, inflamed his blood and unbalanced his mind. was one of those unfortunates who fall easy prey to the cup, and yet, perhaps owing to hereditary taint, find it difficult to abstain altogether, and are subject to periodical spells of inebriety.

He

Cassio cannot be classed as a drunkard in the usual sense of the term. The fact that he advanced in Othello's favor proves that he kept the unlucky propensity in check. But on some occasion it came under the notice of Iago, who treasured the knowledge for future use in case the officer became a thorn in his path.

That time arrived with the appointment of the Florentine arithmetician as lieutenant to the general, a post for which Iago had worked and planned, and which three great ones of Venice had tried in vain to procure for him. To supplant Cassio, the villain resolves to destroy his character for prudence and reliability. As the quickest way to accomplish this end, Iago decides to make Cassio drunk and involve him in some offensive action.