Despite the intensity of his hatred the warm fidelity displayed by his steward partially overcomes him, awakening nobler feelings, developing the better part of his nature, and forcing him to admit the uprightness and truthfulness of "one honest man," and he prays the gods to forgive him for his "general and exceptless rashness." In this mood he doth not long remain, it is but a transient feeling, and he quickly reverts again to his fierce hatred of humankind, at whom he hurls his harsh invectives, and the more powerfully to strengthen the consistency of this feeling, he quits the scene, not to die of a broken heart, but seeking his rest in the great bosom of nature, by the committal of suicide, and thus "Timon hath done his reign."

Apemantus is a cynic, "native and to the manner born," "opposite to humanity," charged with disgust and exaggeration, representing the other extreme to Timon. Apemantus despises all social virtues and pleasures, refuses belief in the goodness of humanity, for he looks upon the human race as degraded and brutish, a natural result, when we remember that he erects himself as the standard by which they should be judged. He is a thorough "churl," who is ever angry, filled with pride as great as his master Diogenes and prouder than Timon, for he constantly flaunts his poverty, his rags and his brutality. He is always parading his plain speaking, this latter qualification being the result of his base, envious and malicious nature, which delights in scurrility, and which conceives that to indulge in coarse retorts and harsh and crabbed answers is to speak plain. He refuses to see good in anything except in "honest water," and he feels no happiness only when slandering his fellow creatures

H

and seeking to enrage them, thus proving, he is either "a knave or a fool." Apemantus is full of mistrust and hatred, having no belief in the practice of virtue, for the baseness of his own nature prevents him from accepting such a creed. The cynicism of Timon is an act approaching to madness, that of Apemantus is his nature, the worthlessness of which is seen through by Timon, who in their last encounter, fails not to tell him so, and justly exclaims, "were I like thee, I'd throw away myself." Apemantus having but one kind of mental vision cannot understand the nature of Timon which is evidently dualistic. He only sees the misanthropical side of Timon's character, he cannot see the philanthropical side, because he is wrapt up in his own misanthropy. Born in the lowest phase of human society, without cultivation, with soured temper and "sour-cold habit," the result of the state of poverty in which he moved and had his being, he fails to comprehend the self-denial which Timon displays on discovering the treasure. The hard words which Timon hurls at his churlish head are all richly deserved, and they contain great justice and truth in their characterisation

“Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm,
With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.

Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords

To such as may the passive drugs of it

Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself

In general riot; melted down thy youth

In different beds of lust; and never learn'd

The icy precepts of respect, but followed
The sugar'd game before thee.

Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time

Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men?

They never flatter'd thee; what hast thou given,
Poor rogue hereditary? Hence, be gone!

If thou hadst not been born the worst of men
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer."

The character of Flavius, the prudent steward, is most admirably pourtrayed; it is one of a class which is often dwelt upon by Shakspere and who has frequently developed that high quality in man, fidelity. Flavius is worthy to rank with Enobarbus, with Adam and with the faithful Kent, for "he can endure to follow with allegiance a fallen lord." Though his lord Timon is forsaken by his "monstrous friends," the parasites who fed upon his wealth, causing him to feel the chilling frosts of poverty, Flavius still will follow his fortunes and exclaims "let me be your servant." He is the "one honest man" of the tragedy, honest in intent, purpose and deed, and this honesty causes him to be round with Timon, and to tell him that he is acting unwisely and that his means will not allow such continuance of wastefulness. He has endured reproof when he hath brought in his accounts, still will he persevere and place before his "dear loved lord," the unpleasant fact, that all his means will lack "a half to pay his present debts." Frankly and manfully he tells his master that he is trusting to a broken staff when he relies upon his so-called friends, who, when he has sought to move them to relieve the difficulties of Timon, "they do but shake their heads," and he is not one whit the "richer in return." With "distasteful looks," he hath been received and "with certain half-caps and cold-moving nods," that have froze him "into silence." When all is lost by Timon, Flavius still clings to the fortunes of his master, cheers his fellow-servants, "broken

implements of a ruined house," gives them their money, rejoices they "are fellows still, serving alike in sorrow," bids them adieu,

Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor."

He will after his lord, for he knows he has nought

"with him to

Supply his life, or that which can command it.
I'll follow, and enquire him out:

I'll ever serve his mind with my

best will,

Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still."

This resolve he fails not to carry out, for he seeks his master, begs him to accept "his grief," and while his "poor wealth lasts to entertain me as your steward still." His service is composed of love and truthfulness, and animated by duty to his "honoured lord," he displays his zeal by still wishing to serve without "any benefit," "either in hope or present;"-all that he wishes, all that he desires, is not that he may be made wealthy by such service, but that his lord, should he have the "power and wealth." He would that Timon should be again what he formerly was, and he would be best requited by his lord making himself rich.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

THE first appearance of this comedy in print was in the folio of 1623. It was entered in the Stationers' Registers, August 4th, 1600, but some obstacle arose to prevent its publication. The comedy of Much Ado about Nothing, and the play of Henry the Fifth, were similarly placed at the same time. The incidents of the comedy were in all probability derived by Shakspere from Lodge's novel of Rosalynde: Euphues Golden Legacie, first published in 1590, reprinted in 1592, and again in 1598.

Shakspere has closely followed the incidents of the novel. The usurping king, the elder brother in exile, to whom "men of great worth resorted," the discovery of Rosalind by her father, the happy marriage of the princesses with their lovers, the shepherdess coy and her loving shepherd. These in Lodge's tale are but mere sketches, in the comedy, they are complete pictures, for the hand of Shakspere has so finished them, that they are redolent with life and beauty. The characters of Jaques, Touchstone and Audrey were added by Shakspere, and the life and wit of Touchstone adds materially to the interest, and lightens up by its