rightful husband, but as a property which, accordshe had pur ing to the laws of war in that age, chased with her gold. The day of marriage was fixed; Orlando presented himself with a splendid retinue; Camiola also appeared, decorated as for her bridal; but instead of bestowing her hand on the recreant, she reproached him in the presence of all with his breach of faith, declared her utter contempt for his baseness; and then freely bestowing on him the sum paid for his ransom, as a gift worthy of his mean soul, she turned away, and dedicated herself and her heart to heaven. In this resolution she remained inflexible, though the king and all the court united in entreaties to soften her. She took the veil; and Orlando, henceforth regarded as one who had stained his knighthood, and violated his faith, passed the rest of his life as a dishonoured man, and died in obscurity. Camiola, in "The Maid of Honour," is, like Portia, a wealthy heiress, surrounded by suitors, and " queen o'er herself:" the character is constructed upon the same principles, as great intellectual power, magnanimity of temper, and feminine tenderness; but not only do pain and dis quiet, and the change induced by unkind and inauspicious] influences, enter into this sweet picture to mar and cloud its happy beauty,-but the portrait itself may be pronounced out of drawing; for Massinger apparently had not sufficient delicacy of sentiment to work out his own conception of the character with perfect consistency. In his adaptation of the story, he represents the mutual love of Orlando and Camiola as existing previous to the captivity of the former, and on his part declared with many vows of eternal faith, yet she requires a written contract of marriage before she liberates him. It will perhaps be said that she has penetrated his weakness, and anticipates his falsehood: miserable excuse!-how could a magnanimous woman love a man, whose falsehood she believes but possible? or loving him, how could she deign to secure herself by such means against the consequences? Shakspeare and Nature never committed such a solecism. Camiola doubts before she has been wronged; the firmness and assurance in herself border on harshness. What in Portia is the gentle wisdom of a noble nature, appears in Camiola too much a spirit of calculation: it savours a little of the counting-house. As Portia is the heiress of Belmont, and Camiola a merchant's daughter, the distinction may be proper and characteristic, but it is not in favour of Camiola.* Camiola, who is a Sicilian, might as well * The contrast may be thus illustrated : CAMIOLA. You have heard of Bertoldo's captivity, and the king's neglect; the greatness of his ransom; fifty thousand crowns, Adorni! Two parts of my estate! Yet I so love the gentleman, for to you I will confess my weakness, that I purpose now, when he is forsaken by the king and his own hopes, to ransom him. Maid of Honour, Act 3. PORTIA. What sum owes he the Jew? BASSANIO. For me-three thousand ducats. PORTIA. What! no more! Pay him six thousand and deface the bond, Shall lose a hair thro' my Bassanio's fault. Merchant of Venice. acuteness, eloquence, and lively intelligence are revealed to us; they are displayed in the first instance, and kept up consistently to the end. Her reflections, arising from the most usual aspects of nature, and from the commonest incidents of life, are in such a poetical spirit, and are at the same time so pointed, so profound, that they have passed into familiar and daily application, with all the force of proverbs. If to do, were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many things by season, season'd are How far that little candle throws his beams! A substitute shines as brightly as a king, Empties itself, as doth an inland brook, Into the main of waters. Her reflections on the friendship between her husband and Antonio are as full of deep meaning as of tenderness; and her portrait of a young coxcomb, in the same scene,* is touched with a truth and spirit which show with what a keen observing eye she has looked upon men and things. And in the description of her various suitors, in the first scene with Nerissa, what infinite power, wit, and vivacity! She half checks herself as she is about to give the reins to her sportive humour : "In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker."— But if it carries her away, it is so perfectly goodhumoured, so temperately bright, so lady-like, it is ever without offence, and so far, most unlike the satirical, poignant, unsparing wit of Beatrice, " Misprising what she looks on." In fact, I can scarce conceive a greater contrast than between the vivacity of Portia and the viva *Act iii, scene 1. |