MACB. As easy may'st thou the intrenchant air

MACD.

With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed :
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;

I bear a charmed life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.

Despair thy charm!

And let the angel, whom thou still hast serv'd,
Tell thee Macduff was from his mother's womb
Untimely ripp'd.

MACB. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so !
For it hath cow'd my better part of man.

There sinks the spirit of Macbeth

Behold! where stands

Th' usurper's cursed head!

How completely does this coincide with the passage already quoted!

-Occulto fallitur ille

Omine, nec CAPITIS FIXI præsagia sentit.

It cannot but be a subject of considerable regret, that the supernatural machinery of this sublime drama is so inadequately represented on the stage. Much," I have remarked in another work, "of the dread, solemnity, and awe which is experienced in reading this play, from the intervention of the witches, is lost in its representation, owing to the injudicious custom of bringing them too forward on the scene; where, appearing little better than a group of old women, the effect intended by the poet is not only destroyed, but reversed. Their dignity and grandeur must arise, as evil beings gifted with superhuman powers, from the undefined nature both of their agency and of their external forms. Were they indistinctly seen, though audible, at a distance, and, as it were, through a hazy twilight, celebrating their orgies, and with shadowy and gigantic shape flitting between the pale blue

Let us now approach the tent of Richard. It is matter of admiration to observe how many incidents the poet has collected in a small compass, to set the military character of his chief personage in a brilliant point of view. A succession of scouts and messengers report a variety of intelligence, all which, though generally of the most alarming nature, he meets not only with his natural gallantry, but sometimes with pleasantry and a certain archness and repartee, which is peculiar to him throughout the drama.

It is not only a curious, but delightful task to examine by what subtle and almost imperceptible touches Shakspeare contrives to set such marks upon his characters, as give them the most living likenesses that can be conceived. In this, above all other poets that ever existed, he is a study and a model of perfection. The great distinguishing passions every poet may describe; but Shakspeare gives you their humours, their minutest foibles, those little starts and caprices, which nothing but the most intimate familiarity brings to light. Other authors write characters like historians; he, like the bosom friend of the person he describes. The

flames of their cauldron and the eager eye of the spectator, sufficient latitude would be given to the imagination, and the finest drama of our author would receive, in the theatre, that deep tone of supernatural horror with which it is felt to be so highly imbued in the solitude of the closet."-Shakspeare and his Times, vol ii. p. 488.

following extracts will furnish an example of what I have been saying.

Ratcliff informs Richard that a fleet is discovered on the western coast, supposed to be the party of Richmond:

K. RICH. Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk; Ratcliff, thyself; or Catesby-Where is he?

CATES. Here, my good lord.

K. RICH. Catesby, fly to the Duke.

CATES. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste. K. RICH. Ratcliff, come hither; post to Salisbury;

When thou com'st thither-DULL, UNMINDFUL (to Catesby)

VILLAIN!

Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke? CATES. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleasure, What from your grace I shall deliver to him.

K. RICH. Oh, true, good Catesby !

I am persuaded I need not point out to the reader's sensibility the fine turn in this expression, good Catesby! How can we be surprised if such a poet makes us in love even with his villains?-Ratcliff proceeds

RAT. What may it please you shall I do at Salisbury? K. RICH. Why, what would'st thou do there before I go? RAT. Your highness told me I should post before.

K. RICH. My mind is chang'd.

These fine touches can escape no man who has an eye for nature. Lord Stanley reports to Richard

STANL. Richmond is on the seas.

K. RICH. There let him sink, and be the seas on him

White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?

This reply is pointed with irony and invective. There are two causes in nature and character for this: first, Richard was before informed of the news; his passion was not taken by surprise, and he was enough at ease to make a play upon Stanley's words-on the seas-and retort-be the seas on him!-secondly, Stanley was a suspected subject; Richard was therefore interested to show a contempt of his competitor before a man of such doubtful allegiance. In the spirit of this impression he urges Stanley to give an explicit answer to the question- What doth he there? Stanley endeavours to evade by answering that he knows not but by guess. The evasion only strengthens Richard's suspicions, and he again pushes him to disclose what he only guesses- Well, as you guess-Stanley replies-

He makes for England, here to claim the crown.
K. RICH. Is the chair empty? Is the sword unsway'd?
Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd?
What heir of York is there alive but we?

And who is England's king but great York's heir?
Then tell me what makes he upon the sea?

What a cluster of characteristic excellences are here before us! All these interrogatories are ad hominem: they fit no man but Stanley; they can be uttered by no man but Richard; and they can flow from the conceptions of no poet but the poet of nature.

Stanley's whole scene ought to be investigated, for it is full of beauties; but I confess myself ex

hausted with the task, and language does not suffice to furnish fresh terms of admiration, which a closer scrutiny would call forth.

Other messengers succeed Lord Stanley. Richard's fiery impatience does not wait the telling, but taking the outset of the account to be ominous, he strikes the courier, who, proceeding with his report, concludes with the good tidings of Buckingham's dispersion. Richard instantly retracts and says―

There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.

This is another trait of the same cast with that of good Catesby.

Battles are of the growth of modern tragedy. I am not curious enough in the old stage to know if Shakspeare is the inventor of this bold and bustling innovation, but I am sure he is unrivalled in his execution of it; and this of Bosworth-field is a master-piece. I shall be less particular in my present description of it, because I may probably bring it under general review with other scenes of the like sort.

It will be sufficient to observe that, in the catastrophe of Richard nothing can be more glowing than the scene, nothing more brilliant than the conduct of the chief character. He exhibits the character of a perfect general, in whom however ardent courage seems the ruling feature; he performs every part of his office with minute attention;