Coun. And see'st

My station, and thine own?

Huon. I see my own.

Coun. Not mine?

Huon. I cannot, for the fair
O'ertopping height before.
Coun. What height?
Huon. Thyself,

That towerest 'bove thy station!-Pardon me!
Oh, wouldst thou set thy rank before thyself?
Wouldst thou be honoured for thyself, or that?
Rank that excels its wearer, doth degrade;
Riches impoverish, that divide respect.
Oh, to be cherished for oneself alone!
To owe the love that cleaves to us to naught
Which fortune's summer-winter-gives or takes!
To know that while we wear the heart and mind,
Feature and form, high heaven endowed us with,
Let the storm pelt us, or fair weather warm,

We shall be loved! Kings, from their thrones cast down,
Have blessed their fate, that they were valued for
Themselves, and not their stations, when some knee,

That hardly bowed to them in plentitude,

Has kissed the dust before them, stripped of all!

Coun. [Confused.] I nothing see that's relative in this, That bears upon the argument.

Huon. Oh, much,

Durst but my heart explain.

Coun. Hast thou a heart?

I thought thou wast a serf; and, as a serf,

Had'st thought and will none other than thy lord's,
And so no heart-that is, no heart of thine own.
But since thou say'st thou hast a heart, 'tis well,—
Keep it a secret; let me not suspect

What, were it e'en suspicion, were thy death.
Sir, did I name a banquet to thee now,

Thou lookedst so?

[Huon

smiles.

Huon. To die for thee were such.

Coun. Sir?

Huon. For his master oft a serf has died,

And thought it sweet; and may not, then, a serf'
Say, for his mistress 'twere a feast to die?

Coun. Thou art presumptuous-very-so, no wonder Thou'dst do well

If I misunderstood thee.

To be thyself, and nothing more.

Huon. Myself!

Coun. Why, art thou not a serf? What right hast thou To set thy person off with such a bearing?

And move with such a gait? to give thy brow

The set of noble s, and thy tongue his phrase?
Thy betters' clothes sit fairer upon thee

Than on themselves, "and they were made for them."
I have no patience with thee-can't abide thee!
There are no bounds to thy ambition, none !
How durst thou e'er adventure to bestride
The war-horse-sitting him, that people say
Thou, not the kuight, appear'st his proper load?
How durst thou touch the lance, the battle-axe,
And wheel the flaming falchion round thy head,
As thou would'st blaze the sun of chivalry?
I know! my father found thy aptitude,
And humoured it, to boast thee off!
To rue it; and no wonder if he should,

He may chance

If others' eyes see that they should not see,
Shown to them by his own.

Huon. Oh, lady

Coun. What?

Huon. Heard I aright?

Coun. Aright-what heard'st thou, then?
I would not think thee so presumptuous
As through thy pride to misinterpret me.
It were not for thy health,-yea, for thy life!
Beware, sir. It would not set my quiet blood,
On haste for mischief to thee, rushing through
My veins, did 1 believe!-Thou art not mad;
Knowing thy vanity, I aggravate it.

Thou know'st 'twere shame, the lowest free-woman
That follows in my train should think of thee!
[Crosses to R.

Huon. I know it, lady.

Coun. That I meant to say,

No more. Don't read such books to me again.
I would you had not learned to read so well,
I had been spared your annotations.

For the future, no reply, when I remark.

Hear, but don't speak-unless you're told-and then
No more than you are told; what makes the answer up,
No syllable beyond.
[Huon retires up, c.

Enter FALCONER, with hawk, R.

My Falconer! So.

An hour I'll fly my hawk.
Falconer. A noble bird,
My lady, knows his bells, is proud of them.

[Crosses, L

[Retires a little, L.

Coun. They are no portion of his excellence :
It is his own! 'Tis not by them he makes
His ample wheel; mounts up, and up, and up,
In spiry rings, piercing the firmament,

Till he o'ertops his prey; then gives his stoop,
More fleet and sure than ever arrow sped!
How nature fashioned him for his bold trade!
Gave him his stars of eyes to range abroad,
His wings of glorious spread to mow the air,
And breast of might to use them! I delight
To fly my hawk. The hawk's a glorious bird;

[Huon advances, B.

Obedient-yet a daring, dauntless bird!
You may be useful, sir; wait upon me.

END OF ACT I.

[Exeunt, L.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-The Country.

On one side a Ruin, on the other

a clump of lofty trees.

Enter PRINCE FREDERICK and ULRICK, R.

Fred. Now thou hast seen her, tell me what thou thinks't

Has she a heart?

Ulrick. I think her flesh and blood.

Fred. Ay, most sweet flesh, and blood most rich!
Ulrick. Then sure

She has a heart.

blends the lively and pathetic in a happy style, although the joke of Catherine, which so amusingly concludes the play, may be considered as partaking too strongly of the characteristic of a comedy ending. An objection might also be taken to the weakening of the interest that occurs in the two last acts: they drag slowly in the representation, and weary the patience of an audience. The dialogue is at times expanded, where compression would have added to its vigor. The acted copy we present to our readers has been skilfully pruned by the players to adapt it for representation, but curtailment is at best but a dangerous substitute for condensation. The language is, however, terse and rich, abounding in just thoughts, well expressed and aptly introduced. The speeches have generally a distinct purpose, they are not mere rhetorical flourishes embellished with the flowers of poetry, nor are they mere showy declamations. They breathe at times the true language of nature, speaking in a voice that finds a response in every breast. The following description of the varied moods of love, is exceedingly rich in imagery, and withal truthful: "I said it was a wilful, wayward thing, And so it is-fantastic and perverse!

Which makes its sport of persons and of seasons,

Takes its own way, no matter right or wrong.

It is the bee that finds the honey out,

Where least you'd dream 'twould seek the nectarous store.

And 'tis an arrant masquer-this same love

That most outlandish, freakish faces wears,

To hide its own! Looks a proud Spaniard now

Now a grave Turk: hot Ethiopian next;

And then phlegmatic Englishman; and then

Gay Frenchman; bye-and-bye, Italian, at

All things a song; and in another skip,

Gruff Dutchman;-still is love behind the masque
It is a hypocrite! looks every way

But that where lie its thoughts!-will openly
Frown at a thing it smiles in secret on:

Shows most like hate, e'en when it most is love;
Would fain convince you it is very rock
When it is water; ice when it is fire!

Is oft its own dupe, like a thorough cheat;
Persuades itself 'tis not the thing it is;
Holds up its head, purses its brows, and looks
Askant, with scornful lip, hugging itself
That it is high disdain -till suddenly

It falls on its knees, making most piteous suit
With hail of tears, and hurricane of sighs,
Calling on heaven and earth for witnesses
That it is love, true love, nothing but love l"

True dignity is happily depicted in the following passage. It smacks of the nervousness of the elder dramatists.

Riches impoverish, that divide respect!
Oh, to be cherished for oneself alone?
To owe the love that cleaves to us to naught
Which fortune's summer-winter-gives or takes!
To know that while we wear the heart and mind,
Feature and form, high Heaven endowed us with,
Let the stonin pelt us, or fair weather warn,

We shall be loved! Kings, from their thrones cast down,
Have blessed their fate, that they were valued for
Themselves, and not their stations, when some knee,

That hardly bowed to them in plenitude,

Has kissed the dust before them, stripped of all!"

As a whole, we would award to this play, the claim of a passionate earnestness in the dialogue, and a directness of purpose, not paralleled in any other production of the author's. We have noticed the popularity this play attained on its first production. The acting of Miss Ellen Tree, in the Countess, was highly lauded by the critics; exceptions were, however, taken to the predominance she gave to the lofty indifference the poet has thrown around the character of the Countess: we consider this point in the author's creation to be exceptionable ;— a passionate woman, such as the Countess is represented to be, would not have been able to reply to Huon's simple, affecting appeals, with haughty indifference; the love-sick girl would have appeared behind. We think the same error is palpable in Mrs. Shaw's otherwise perfect embodiment of the part; and, although the author may be chargeable for the defect, yet we hold it would be truer to nature did the representatives of the part subdue the hauteur and indifference of the Countess, and heighten the passionate devotion of the woman, in passages where the poet has failed in making the character a true transcript of nature.

H.