most familiar to our hardy ancestors; and however annoying to the great might be their street-sports before coaches were invented, that innovation retaliated on the multitude, and continued an object of complaint until these leathern conveniences grew sufficiently common to come within the reach of " your even Christian," the middle-class citizen of those times. In days of rain the penthouses, which formed a species of arcade on either side, gave shelter to the poor, and the grand arcade or mall of the city was the aisle of St. Paul's Cathedral, which was then the people's church, and open at all hours. The period of the archery sports, the May-pole gaieties, the foot-ball games, the hunting, and birding, at different periods, in the purlieus of the city, the hours of dancing and music, after the early hours of toil had closed, were not the times of the dexterous highwaymen, whose lives and acts are now so keenly relished by a tasteful public and so zealously raked up by an illuminated literati; no, nor the shameful days of open profligacy, covered with the mantle of hypocricy, that followed the great event from which all excellence in modern days is dated. A cheerful and happy people joined in the frequent festivals of the church, and enjoyed a life of alternate labour and relief from toil; happier in the acquisition of health to the body and peace to the mind, than in the possession of a greater nominal amount of means purchased by continued toil for upwards of 100 hours in the week, The festival feeling of those days is now wholly lost. On May-day, the streets would be decked with trees planted before every house-a cheerful evidence of joy which our pleasant pavements would not now permit, but which atoned for many a rough rut in the old road. There was a May-pole by St. Andrew-under-Shaft, and there were all the merrymakings of the May-day celebrated; sometimes by kings and peers of true dignity, as well as by the May-queen and king. There was the seeking of the fields at day-break to bathe the face in May-dew, the then best cosmetic, perhaps, because gathered with prayer and used with thanksgiving. Public processions, with all manner of quaint devices, occupied the morning, feasting and repose the noontide, and the sports of the May-pole, dancing and music, with many games, closed the evening, and this in the crowded streets of London. Many were the festivals of the sweet Springtime-one for Midsummer we have already noted; in September the wells and conduits, and the sources of the water, were visited with thankful and rejoicing spirits. Then, too, hare and fox-hunting were among the sports provided by the corporation for the poorer citizens. The close of the year, like its opening, was celebrated with joyousness in the streets of London. Now, if those days be contrasted with the licentious and selfish period of 100 years ago, and if it be recollected that the love of open places and the permission to enjoy even the parks to their full extent as well as to desire new ones, are the characteristics of this period of revival, we must conclude from the sports of old London, as from its ancient lighting, that the "dark ages" lie between the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries. SIR RUCHO, THE OTTLINGER. "Who knocks so loud at the castle gate But the warder has heard his master's voice, And he spake those bitter and mocking words "Wilt eat, my lord, of the wild boar's flesh? He led her into the chamber lone, Where they oft had passed the night: "I will give thee a riddle, my lady sweet! And see that thou answer right. Pray, what is the boon which a fair dame grants She quailed beneath the wolfish glare Then burst his rage, like a thunder-cloud 66 "What slanderous tongue hath dared to speak So false a word of me?" "The proofs of thy guilt are black as night; Then seek not thyself to free!" "O God! thou knowest my innocence: I can but appeal to Thee!" "To thy knees, and pray !"—" O spare me yet! Where the spirits of the dead lie bound "If fire can purge thy soul from sin, "T will save thee from lasting woe!" "Yet grant me time!"-"Thou hast lived too long, To disgrace a noble name!" "O! think how the guilt of blood will cling For ever to thy fair fame!" "It cannot do me a greater harm Than the memory of thy shame!" "For our children's sake!"-" They are thine no more!" "For the babe beneath my heart, That liveth a life within a life, And hath of thy blood its part!" "Though to reach thy bosom I pierce my own, I will not from my purpose start!" "Is there none to help me at my need?" "In vain thou wouldst shun thy fate!" "O seize me not with so rude a grasp! I hear horsemen at the gate! O let me live! they are friends who come!" "If so they have come too late!" Sir Rucho has entered the castle hall, He has heard of the duke's unbridled rage, Sir Rucho has drawn his 'vengeful blade, Then pauses, and cries, "First read this scroll! But Sir Rucho has thrown aside his sword, And the duke is left to the baleful fiends NOTE. The tragical event on which this ballad is founded took place on the night of the 18th January, 1256. The duke was that Louis of Bavaria whose sister Elizabeth married Kaiser Conrad IV., and became the mother of the gifted but unfortunate Conradin. It is said, that the jealous husband not only destroyed his wife, but also slew some of her women; and the circumstance of his hair growing grey in a single night, is no mere poetical invention. His victim was the beautiful Maria, daughter of Duke Henry of Brabant. COLD IN PETERSBURG.-The Russians, full as they generally are of spirits, dislike every kind of exertion, and intellectual and physical gymnastics are alike hateful to them. In cold weather, therefore, they creep behind the stove, or load themselves with furs, and quietly submit to their fate, instead of doing what every one who is not a Russian would do, defending themselves tooth and nail against the cold. The butschnik slinks into his hut; the soldier, if he thinks he can do it unpunished, into his sentry-box; and the drivers roll themselves, like a tortoise, into a ball under the mats of their vehicles. Many of them are, of course, surprised in these positions, and carried off by the cold. The sentry is lifted out a statue, the butschnik a mummy, and the driver a petrified cripple. The immoderate drinking of spirits increases the danger. Intoxication and sleep which it induces are, as everybody knows, the surest ways of perishing by cold; and as the cold is never severe in Petersburg but a great number of persons are to be found drunk and asleep in the streets, it may easily be conceived that the sacrifices which winter demands are not few. The utter insensibility of the wealthy in regard to their servants increases this number. It is incredible what is required of these poor fellows, footmen, outriders, and coachmen. In visiting, they are left for hours in the street, no matter what the weather may be. Many, when they go to the theatre or into company, make them wait the whole evening at the door, to be in readiness the moment they are wanted. At such times, the coachmen naturally fall asleep upon their boxes, and the outriders, boys not more than twelve years old, who have not yet learned to keep awake till midnight, sit dozing upon their horses, or, twisting the bridle round their arm, stretch themselves on the frozen snow of the street pavement. Many a poor coachman has lost nose or ears, hands or feet, from being frost-bitten, while his master or mistress has been enjoying the most exquisite treat for ear or palate; nay, how many have paid with their lives for the most frivolous amusements of their employers! For the rest, this is one of the easiest of the many kinds of death which the wretched Russian serfs sometimes have to suffer; nay, this gradual sinking into the arms of slumber and death is said to be accompanied by a sensation so soothing, that those who have been roused from it in time to be recalled to life have at first shown themselves exceedingly dissatisfied.-Kohl's Russia and the Russians in 1842. FRENCH HONESTY.-Let us do justice to the French character. Their self-command, their upon-honour principle, is very remarkable, and much more generally diffused than among our own population. They are, I believe, a more honest people than the British. The beggar, who is evidently hungry, respects the fruit upon the road-side within his reach, although there is nobody to protect it. Property is much respected in France; and in bringing up children, this fidelity towards the property of others seems much more carefully inculcated by parents in the lowest class, in the home education of their children, than with us. This respect for the property is closely connected with that respect for the feelings of our neighbours, which constitutes what is called good manners. This is carefully inculcated in children of all ranks in France. They are taught to do what is pleasing and agreeable to others. We are too apt to undervalue this spirit, as tending merely to superficial accomplish. ments, to empty compliment in words, and unmeaning appear ance in acts. But, in reality, this reference to the feelings of others in all we do is a moral habit of great value where it is generally diffused, and enters into the home training of every family. It is an education both of the parent and child in morals, carried on through the medium of external manners. Our lower and middle classes are deficient in this kind of family education; and there is some danger that the parents in those classes may come to rely too much with us, for all education, upon the parish and Sunday schools. It is but reading, writing, reckoning, and the catechism, after all, that can be taught a people by the most perfect system of national school education; and those acquirements would be dearly bought if they interfere with or supersede family instruction and parental example, and admonition in the right and wrong, in conduct, morals, and manners. It is a fine distinction of the French national character, and social economy, that practical morality is more generally taught through manners, among and by the people themselves, than in any country in Europe. One or two striking instances of this general respect for property have occurred to me in travelling in France. I once forgot my umbrella in a diligence going to Bourdeaux, in which I travelled as far as Tours. My umbrella went on to Bourdeaux and returned to Tours in the corner of the coach, without being appropriated by any of the numerous passengers, or work people, who must have passed through it on so long a journey, and have had this stray unowned article before them. I once travelled from Paris to Boulogne with a gentleman who had come up the same road a few days before. We were conversing on this very subject, the honesty of the people in general, and he recollected having left on the table of one of the inns half a basket of grapes, worth about 12 sous, which, he said, he was sure he would find safe. On arriving, he asked the waiter if he had seen the grapes, and they were instantly produced, as a matter of course, out of a press in which they had been carefully put away as property not belonging to the house.-Laing's Notes of a Traveller. REASONABLE SCEPTICISM.-We must however observe, that, in the middle ages, men complained loudly that some legends were superstitiously written. Guibert de Nogent, in the eleventh century, speaks of false narratives, and of true legends, which are written in such a patched and hobbling style that they are believed to be false. "What edification," he exclaims "can the rotation of these fables, worse than any screeching wheels, bring to pious ears which even can suggest incentives of blasphemy to the impious?" Mabillon complains, in like manner, of innumerable little narrations inserted by modern writers into the lives of saints, the extravagance of which is to his mind a subject of excessive grief. No doubt, as a recent historian remarks, many absurd accounts, which disfigure the histories of eminent saints, and which are not found in the contemporaty writers, were the invention of men in subsequent times. This arose from error rather than from a wish to adorn. "With respect to these legends," says this historian, "charity is the best philosophy. Many were not known during the lives of the persons whose deeds they recount: after their deaths they were multiplied and disfigured." In the ancient lives of St. Romain, bishop of Rouen, there is no mention of his vanquishing a serpent: not even writers of the twelfth century allude to it; but as his victory over idolatry was represented under that symbol, later authors mistook the emblem for a reality. Similarly the Parisians, in latter ages, supposed that St. Marcel had slain a dragon, being misled by the ancient symbolical representations of his triumphs over Satan. In the old lives of St. Remi there is no notice of the saint Ampoule, which was not mentioned till after four hundred years. So also, in the ancient lives of St. Denis, there is no account of his carrying his head, which was first mentioned by Hildninus about seven hundred years after his time. Another modern historian, after showing that no intimation of many strange things in the life of St. Dunstan occurs in the more ancient writings, which minutely record his acts and miracles, concludes with this remark: "The truth is, that nobody would ever have thought of disregarding the canons of criticism, of passing over writers nearly contemporary to follow those much posterior, had not the latter offered some foundations, however frail, for an attack on this calumniated archbishop." No one produced the original records.Digby's Mores Catholici. London: Printed by PALMER and CLAYTON, 10, Crane-court, Fleetstreet; and published by GEORGE DISMORE, at the Office of the TRUE TABLET, 6, Catherine-street, Strand; whither all communications must be sent, addressed (prepaid) to FREDERICK LUCAS, the sole Editor and Proprietor. CATHOLIC POETS. SHIRLEY. 46 66 About the time of this second change, and, as it would almost seem, before the change, he had produced his earliest comedy, called Love Tricks, which was licensed for the stage in Feb. 1624 5; but as in the prologue the author intimates a doubt of his intention to be "a factor time of writing the prologue, he had not completed the decisive step above mentioned. From this time till the suppression of "stage plays" by the Long Parliament in 1642, Shirley continued to write for the theatre almost without intermission, and produced during this period of seventeen years, tragedies, comedies, masques, and interludes-by far the greater proportion of them pieces in five acts, at the somewhat extravagant rate of more than two every twelve months. From these performances, which earned him much professional fame, "he must," says Mr. Dyce, "have derived an emolument ample person to take the sacred function upon him, and "should never have his consent so to do." Whether WE imagine there are not many from this objection, or from some other cause, cannot now of our readers who know that be known, but Shirley soon quitted Oxford, repaired to one of the great dramatists of Cambridge, and there, as a member of Catherine Hall, in the Elizabeth-James-Charles age which he spent "some precious years," he took his of literature was a Catholic, a Bachelor's degree. During his academical course, he convert, and one whose theatri- was not unmindful of the Muses; but at length he took cal career was determined by “ holy Anglican orders," and received a living either in the circumstance of his being a St. Albans, Hertfordshire, or in the neighbourhood of convert. Yet so it is. Those that town. "Being then unsettled in his mind," says who have read the last volume Wood, "he changed his religion for that of Rome, left of Mr. Digby's great work-the" his living," and in the year 1623, at the age of about 27, "Mores Catholici"-have doubt- became a teacher in the St. Albans Grammar School. less made acquaintance with an Nothing seems to be known of the circumstances of this "old Catholic poet" of the name most eventful and most happy change, further than that, of Shirley, from whose writings as it was made against all views of interest, so it was many beautiful and noble quo- faithfully and honourably persevered in through all the tations are there made: but few hard obscurity of his after life. He retained for less than of them, we imagine, know more two years the function of usher; "which employment, of this "old Catholic poet" than "also, he finding uneasy to him, he retired to the is to be gleaned from these quo- metropolis, lived in Gray's Inn, and set up for a playtations. Ten years ago, indeed, "maker." the works of this writer were a sealed volume to all but the most persevering students of our early literature. No complete collection had ever been made of his plays and poems, and the original editions of them were grievously incorrect. Hazlitt, in his "Lectures" on the English Dramatic Poets from the reign of Elizabeth to the" for the scene," it has been supposed that, at least at the death of Charles I., makes no mention of Shirley. Coleridge, in his criticisms on the same race of dramatists, wholly passes him by. Charles Lamb, in his "Specimens of English Dramatic Poets who lived about the time of Shakspere," does indeed mention Shirley, and gives specimens-not_perhaps the best that might have been selected from five of his dramas; but then he obscures the lustre which this kind of notice would have thrown upon the poet, by the following depreciatory criticism: "Shirley "claims a place among the worthies of this period, not so "much for any transcendant genius in himself, as that he "was the last of a great race, all of whom spoke nearly enough to satisfy his humble wishes." Where Mr. the same language, and had a set of moral feelings and Dyce learned the fact of his wishes having been humble "notions in common." At length, in the year 1833, the we are not told. "He gained," says Wood, "not only a Rev. Mr. Dyce gave to the world, in six octavo volumes, "considerable livelihood, but also very great respect and the first complete collection of Shirley's dramas and mis-" encouragement from persons of quality, especially from cellaneous poems. This edition is in the greater part the "Henrietta, the Queen consort, who made him her serwork of the late Mr. Gifford, to whom the world stands "vant." But fortunately for his character, as he himself indebted for so many services rendered to the memory of tells us, "I never affected the ways of flattery: some say The text of this, the last of that line of "I have lost my preferment by not practising that courtour literature. dramatists, was in a most neglected state, full of blunders "sin." Of the particulars of these plays we can give no and abounding in omissions beyond the ordinary inaccu- account here, though perhaps we may endeavour to give racy of the plays of those times. Five volumes out of our readers some taste of a few of them hereafter. One the six were carefully corrected and annotated upon by or two circumstances connected with them are all we can Mr. Gifford; and in the course of the sixth volume, | afford to mention. In 1633 was licensed by Sir Henry death stopped the progress of that minute and searching Herbert, then master of the revels, the comedy of The industry, which, after rescuing from the blunders of Young Admiral, of which the following honourable eulotranscribers, printers, and annotators, so many of the works gium was entered by Sir Henry in the office book:of our greatest dramatists, thus worthily closed the series "The comedy called The Young Admiral being free of its labours with Shirley. To Mr. Dyce we are in-" from oaths, prophaneness, and obsceneness, hath given debted for the revision of the remainder of the text, and "me much delight and satisfaction in the reading, and for the scanty, yet careful, memoir by which the whole "may serve for a pattern to other poets, not only for the -collection is preceded. From this memoir we have "bettering of manners and language, but for the imgleaned the following particulars:provement of the quality, which hath received some James Shirley, of a good family, either in Warwick- “ brushings of late. When Mr. Shirley hath read this shire or Sussex, was born in London on the 13th or 18th | “ approbation, I know it will encourage him to pursue of September, 1596. In his thirteenth year he was ad- "this beneficial and cleanly way of poetry; and when mitted into Merchant Taylors' School, and thence, after "other poets hear and see his good success, I am confihaving given proof of superior abilities, he was removed," dent they will imitate the original for their own credit, A.D. 1612, to St. John's College, Oxford, it being intended" and make such copies in this harmless way as shall that he should take such orders as the Anglican establish- "speak them masters in their art, at the first sight, to all ment has to bestow. The historian of this university" judicious spectators. It may be acted this 3 July, 1633. tells us that Dr. William Laud, afterwards the unfortu- "I have entered this allowance for direction to my sucnate Archbishop of Canterbury, then presiding over that "cessor, and for example to all poets who shall write college, "had a very great affection for him, especially "after the date hereof." "for the very pregnant parts that were visible in him, "but then having a broad or large mole upon his left check, which some esteemed a deformity, that worthy "doctor would often tell him that he was an unfit 66 66 66 Genius is of course a gift of Providence which not every man can attain to; but, as Catholics, we feel some pride when we see this, the last of the great line of dramatists, who himself survived the Restoration, and saw 66 66 the first fruits of the beastly school of Charles II., not In the latter end of the same year, the general favour in which our author was held is proved by his being selected to write the masque-The Triumph of Peace-presented to the King and Queen by the four Inns of Court at Whitehall, and which has been described as "perhaps the "most magnificent pageant ever exhibited in England.” In 1637 we find Shirley, who in his youth (and saving the mole on his cheek) had enjoyed the favour of Laud, now flourishing in Dublin under the patronage of Strafford, the Lord Deputy of Ireland. Shirley remained in Dublin for nearly three years, and there produced some of his most interesting dramas, particularly the fine playMr. Dyce calls it "this strange drama"-of St. Patrick for Ireland, which contains part of the story of Ireland's conversion by her great Apostle. In 1638 Shirley made his first approach to the munificent and gallant Duke of Newcastle, by a dedication to him of one of his finest tragedies-The Traitor. "In "1642, when the rebellion broke out," says Wood," and "he thereupon forced to leave London, and so conse"quently his wife and children (who afterwards were put "to their shifts), he was invited by his most noble patron, “William, Earl (afterwards Marquis and Duke) of New"castle, to take his fortune with him in the wars; for that "Count had engaged him so much by his generous libe"rality towards him, that he thought he could not do a "worthier act than to serve him, and so consequently his "Prince." Accordingly, Shirley served the Duke not only "in the wars," but in the arts of peace, "and did "much assist him in the composure of certain plays "which the Duke afterwards published." both died within the compass of a natural day; where. upon their bodies were buried in one grave in the yard belonging to the said church of St. Giles's on the 29th "of October, 1666." This tragical occurrence happened in his 71st year. The baldness of the narrative, which we have now brought to a conclusion, is in great part owing to the scanty materials that remain for a life of this amiable and honourable man. However, scanty as our memoir has been, we have left no room for any general estimate of the poet's genius, and we must for the present content ourselves with giving, as a specimen of his genius, two grand and characteristic songs, by which, among ordinary readers of poetry, Shirley is best known. DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. Are shadows, not substantial things; Must tumble down, And plant fresh laurels where they kill; Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, The garlands wither on your brow, They boast no more your mighty deeds; See where the victor-victim bleeds; To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust. After the decline of the King's cause Shirley retired to London, and there associating with many worthy friends, The second is in a somewhat lower strain, but is yet exceedamong whom is particularly commemorated Sir Thomas Victorious men of earth, no more Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey Stanley, the accomplished author of the "History of Phi-ingly beautiful. The new school of dramatists brought in next year by the Restoration, certainly exhibited nothing to tempt any one to break this resolve of silence, who had any inclination to "a cleanly way of writing." Accordingly Shirley continued, till he had completed three score years and ten, to slave in honourable obscurity at his little school, and to drudge for Ogilby in translating Homer. "At length, "after Mr. Shirley had lived in various conditions, and "had seen much of the world, he, with his second wife, Frances, were driven by the dismal conflagration that "happened in London an. 1666, from their habitation "near Fleet-street into the parish of St. Giles's in the "Fields, in Middlesex, where, being in a manner over"come with affrightments, disconsolations, and other miseries, occasioned by that fire and their losses, they 46 He hath at will More quaint and subtle ways to kill; SHAKSPERE'S FALCONRY.-No. 3. 19. "Flying at the brook," is that part of the sport wherein the heron is at siege, or the waterfowl, if that be the "quarry," is put up by the ranging spaniels. The hawks are then unhooded; the game is pointed out; the falcon is whistled off the finger, and commences her ascent, in a series of gyrations, to attain a pitch so high above the fowl as to permit her to swoop upon it, which is the falcon's mode of overcoming her prey. We would again refer to Landseer's admirable picture of Hawking, where the heron has turned up her bill in the hope that the falcon, in stooping, will impale herself on that, her instrument of defence. Scott's admirable descriptions of hawking seem often to have been inspired rather by Shakspere, than either practice or historical reading: the heron is, in his description, generally the quarry. Hamlet says, "When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk "from a heronshaw," not handsaw, as in the acting text and its corrupted proverb. A humbler species of sport was the chief amusement of the lower class of gentry and the rich burghers, this was "Flying at the bush." Page, in the Merry Wives of Windsor, Act. iii., sc. 4, says to the party at Ford's house, “I do invite you to morrow morning to my house to breakfast, after-we'll "a-birding together-I have a fine hawk for the bush." In this sport dogs and horses were not needed, the falcon flew at the bush to which the game had been marked, and where, by the instinct of terror, the creature cowered beneath its persecutor, the very sound of whose bells was a death note. In such a case the bird in the bush was said to be enmewed by the falcon. Thus it is that Warwick enmews the Lancastrians, who, according to his boast, cower beneath him, and dare not stir a wing if he but shake his bells. Thus Isabella says of Angelo (Measure for Measure, Act iii., sc. 1) This outward-sainted deputy, 20. Liming the bush is not used for hawking, but it was no uncommon trick when artillery (that is the crossbow and bird-bolts) supplied the place of the hawk. "Am I your bird?" says Bianca (Taming the Shrew, Act v., sc. 2), "I mean to shift my bush; and then pursue "me as you draw your bow." In the second part of Henry VI., Act ii., sc. 4, the Duchess of Gloster, during her penance, cautions her husband against his enemies at court For Suffolk, he that can do all in all prey on whatsoever chance might throw in her way-at fortune; and, it ought not to be forgotten here, that all birds which have been tame, or household, are either incapacitated for supplying their necessities in nature, or, according to a very general belief, are not permitted to flock with the wild birds of their species, but are set upon and slain, or at least scorned and rejected by them. How perfect, then, is the whole picture with the implied consequence to the unhappy Desdemona ! 23. The language of falcony, properly understood, may settle some disputed passages. For instance, Sir Richard Vernon presents a falconer's picture of the royal army, when, in the first part of Henry IV., Act iv., sc. 1, Hotspur asks Where is The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales, Sir Richard answers All furnished, all in arms, All plumed, like estridges that with the wind The word estridge, often misprinted ostrage, ostridge, and even ostrich, is a familiar name in falconry for the hawk. Estrich and ostridge are, indeed, translated struthiocamelus, i.e., the ostrich, in our old dictionaries; but Lyttleton gives us ostringer as accipitrarius, falconarius, and for his office, aucupium. Auceps itself is contracted from avis and capio, and describes the natural action of the hawk, as well as of the hawker who employs him; but the word 21. To return to the pitch of the falcon, Flavius, in Julius estridge is from astur, a hawk, as is astringer incorrectly Cæsar, says, Act i., sc. 1— These growing feathers, pluck'd from Cæsar's wing, King Henry V., arguing with his soldiers when disguised, and in the night before the battle of Agincourt (Act iv., sc. 1), speaking of a king as being like other men, says "And though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the same wing." It will have been observed, that the cardinal, in the scene at St. Albans, attributed the failure of the sport to the early putting up by (the spaniels attending) the duke's man, and that the queen remarked, "The wind was very "high." On this it must be observed, that the scent of the falcon is one of its strongest senses, although it does not possess the fulness of the power which is characteristic of the vulture, and that it therefore flies up or against the wind to aid its pursuit of the object. When the wind is very high, it is apt to turn the hawk by its force, and then she begins to bate or flutter, her plumes are all ruffled, she is blown down the wind, and even the strength of her pinions and her gallantry itself become useless. It was then, as Queen Margaret says, ten to one old Joan had not gone out." 66 It will be observed that the female is always spoken of in hawking, for it was she, and not the male, that was the most distinguished. When the male is meant, the word tassel, or tercel, is used, as in Juliet, who calls her Romeo the tercel, or male of the Falcon-gentle, the most noble, generous, gallant, and loving creature of the race. desires "to lure her tercel-gentle back again." In Troilus and Cressida also, Act iii., sc. 2, Pandarus draws the distinction between the pair by observing, "The falcon (she) as the tercel (he) for all the ducks i' the river." She 22. It may now be seen how the language of falconry intensifies the idea. The following beautiful passage in Othello, although conveying a meaning by the simple words, has much more force and power when the falconer's phrase is understood. If I do prove her haggard, Though that her jesses were my dear heart strings If she prove haggard, inconstant, or irreclaimable, though that the ties which bind her to me were my heart-strings, I'd send her from me, and let her (not up the wind, in the pursuit of the legitimate object, but) down the wind to spelt in Lyttleton, but correctly in All's Well that Ends Well, Act. v., sc. 1, where Helena, at Marseilles, seeking the king's court, is met by "a gentle astringer," or amateur falconer, a gentleman pursuing the gentle craft, by whom she is conducted to Rousillon, and afterwards introduced to the King. Now Sir Richard Vernon's passage has been till lately (we are happy to see that Mr. Knight has mended the matter) applied, not to the hawk, but the ostrich, which was said to wing the wind, although it does not; and the arrant nonsense. They were plumed, like a hawk that bates prince and his companions were said to be bated like eagles or struggles with the wind,-not up or against it, by which her feathers are all smoothed,--but down or with the wind, when they are ruffled, like those in the warriors' helmets of that day. "Like eagles having newly-bathed" is a distinct image, and he must know as little of natural history as of falconry, who is not aware of the freshness, the vivacity, the new life which all birds, but especially the falcon family, of which the eagle is the chief, derive from bathing. It is said to renew their youth. The eagle and the falcon are emblems of dignity. "The world is grown so bad" (says Gloster, Richard III., Act i., sc. 3) That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch. And Clifford (Henry IV., part 3., Act i., sc. 4), says— So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons. 24. Here, then, falconry settles a disputed passage, but it In Cymbeline, Imogen sometimes explains an obscure one. says, Act iii., sc. 4 :— And I grieve myself And King Henry, in the third part of Henry VI., Act i., sc. 2, speaking of Margaret's resolution to oppose the Duke of York, to whom the faint-hearted Henry has just promised to bequeath the crown, says:— Revenged may she be on that hateful duke, The hawk tires in two ways, and for two purposes. If she be full gorged, she has a feather or a bone thrown to her, on which she tires, or pecks and sucks it enjoyingly, until the stomach is relieved or the bird disedged. This applies to the married Posthumus, toying with or tiring on the vain thing, remnant or garbage thrown to him, after he has fed to loathing. In the second sense, to tire signifies |