The state of mind produced by these emotions, is exhibited to us with uncommon tenderness and simplicity by Orlando.

"If I'm foiled, there is but one shamed that was never 66 gracious: if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: "I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to la"ment; the world no injury, for in it I have nothing: "only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty."

But, when ambition, avarice, or vanity are concerned, our sorrow is acrimonious, and mixed with anger. If, by trusting to the integrity and beneficence of others, our fortune be diminished, or not augmented as we expected; or if we be not advanced and honoured agreeably to our desires, and the idea we had formed of our own desert, we conceive ourselves injured. Injury provokes resentment, and resentment moves us to retaliate. Accordingly, we retaliate: we inveigh against mankind: we accuse them of envy, perfidy, and injustice. We fancy ourselves the apostles or champions of virtue, and go forth to combat and confound her opponents. The celebrated Swift, possess

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ing uncommon abilities, and actuated by ambition, flattered his imagination with hopes of preferment and distinguished ho nour, was disappointed, and wrote satires on human nature. Many who declaim with solemn sorrow and prolixity against the depravity and degeneracy of mankind, and overcharge the picture of human frailty with shades of the gloomiest tincture, imagine themselves the elected heroes of true religion, while they are merely indulging a splenetic humour,

On comparing the sorrow excited by re pulsed and languishing affection, with that arising from the disappointment of selfish appetites, melancholy appears to be the temper produced by the one, misanthropy by the other. Both render us unsocial; but melancholy disposes us to complain, misanthropy to inveigh. The one remonstrates and retires; the other abuses, retires, and still abuses. The one is softened with regret: the other virulent and fierce with rancour. Melancholy is amiable and benevolent, and wishes mankind would reform: misanthropy is malignant, and breathes re

venge. The one is an object of compassion; the other of pity.

Though melancholy rules the mind of Jaques, he partakes of the leaven of human nature, and, moved by a sense of injury and disappointment,

Most invectively he pierceth through
The body of the country, city, court.

Instigated by sentiments of self-respect, if not of pride, he treats the condition of humanity, and the pursuits of mankind, as insignificant and uncertain. His invectives, therefore, are mingled with contempt, and expressed with humour. At the same time, he shows evident symptoms of a benevolent nature: he is interested in the improvement of mankind, and inveighs, not entirely to indulge resentment, but with a desire to correct their depravity.

Duke. What you look merrily!

Jaq. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,

A motley fool! A miserable world!

As I do live by food, I met a fool,

Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms,

In good set terms,-and yet a motley fool.

Good morrow fool, quoth I—No sir, quoth he,

Call me not fool, till Heaven hath sent me fortune:
And then he drew a dial from his poke;

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says, very wisely, Il is ten o'clock;

Thus

may we see, quoth he, how the world wags. 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine ; And after one hour more, 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a lale.

O noble fool!

A worthy fool!-Motley's the only wear.

Duke. What fool is this?

Jaq. O worthy fool!-One that hath been a courtier; And says, if ladies be but young, and fair,

They have the gift to know it: and in his brain,

Which is as dry as the remainder bisket

After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd
With observation, the which he vents

In mangled forms :-O that I were a fool!
I am ambitious for a motley coat.

Duke. Thou shalt have one.

Jaq. It is my only suit;

Provided, that you weed your better judgments

Of all opinion, that grows rank in them,
That I am wise. I must have liberty
Withal; as large a charter as the wind,
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have:

And they that are most gauled with my folly,

They most must laugh: and why, sir, must they so?

The why is plain as way to parish-church, &c.

Invest me in my motley; give me leave

To speak my mind, and I will through and through
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world,

If they will patiently receive my medicine.

As

This mixture of melancholy and misanthropy in the character of Jaques, is more agreeable to human nature than the representation of either of the extremes; for a complete misanthrope is as uncommon an object as a man who suffers injury without resentment. Mankind hold a sort of middle rank, and are in general too good for the one, and too bad for the other. benevolence and sensibility are manifest in the temper of Jaques, we are not offended with his severity. By the oddity of his manner, by the keenness of his remarks, and shrewdness of his observations, while we are instructed, we are also amused. He is precisely what he himself tells us, often wrapped "in a most humorous sadness." His sadness, of a mild and gentle nature, recommends him to our regard; his humour

amuses.

A picture of this kind shows us the fertility of Shakespeare's genius, his knowledge