and we are deeply moved by the mute tenderness of Cordelia, the modern Antigone, who in depth of soul and feeling surpasses her antique sister. Yes, she is a pure soul, as the king first sees when he is mad. Quite pure? I believe that she is a little self-willed, and this small spot is a birth-mark from the father. But true love is very modest, and hates all cram of words; she can only weep and bleed. The sad bitterness with which Cordelia plays upon the hypocrisy of her sisters is of the most delicate kind, and has all the character of that irony which the Master of all Love, the hero of the gospel, sometimes employed. Her soul relieves itself of the justest indignation, and displays all her nobility in the words:—
"Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,
To love my father all."[1]
JULIA.
[ROMEO AND JULIET.]
Every Shakespearean play has its peculiar climate, its own time of year, and its local attributes. And like the characters in every one of these dramas, so have the soil and sky their own marked physiognomy. Here, in Romeo and Julia,[2] we
