and Beatrice to their matrimonial bonds rather with a sense of amusement
than a feeling of congratulation or sympathy; rather with an
acknowledgment that they are well-matched, and worthy of each other than
with any well-founded expectation of their domestic tranquillity. If, as
Benedick asserts, they are both "too wise to woo peaceably," it may be
added that both are too wise, too witty, and too wilful to live
peaceably together. We have some misgivings about Beatrice--some
apprehensions that poor Benedick will not escape the "predestinated
scratched face," which he had foretold to him who should win and wear
this quick-witted and pleasant-spirited lady; yet when we recollect that
to the wit and imperious temper of Beatrice is united a magnanimity of
spirit which would naturally place her far above all selfishness, and
all paltry struggles for power--when we perceive, in the midst of her
sarcastic levity and volubility of tongue, so much of generous
affection, and such a high sense of female virtue and honor, we are
inclined to hope the best. We think it possible that though the
gentleman may now and then swear, and the lady scold, the native
good-humor of the one, the really fine understanding of the other, and
the value they so evidently attach to each other's esteem, will ensure
them a tolerable portion of domestic felicity, and in this hope we leave
them.

ROSALIND.

I come now to Rosalind, whom I should have ranked before Beatrice,
inasmuch as the greater degree of her sex's softness and sensibility,
united with equal wit and intellect, give her the superiority as a
woman; but that, as a dramatic character, she is inferior in force. The
portrait is one of infinitely more delicacy and variety, but of less
strength and depth. It is easy to seize on the prominent features in the
mind of Beatrice, but extremely difficult to catch and fix the more
fanciful graces of Rosalind. She is like a compound of essences, so
volatile in their nature, and so exquisitely blended, that on any
attempt to analyze them, they seem to escape us. To what else shall we
compare her, all-enchanting as she is?--to the silvery summer clouds
which, even while we gaze on them, shift their hues and forms dissolving
into air, and light, and rainbow showers?--to the May-morning, flush
with opening blossoms and roseate dews, and "charm of earliest
birds?"--to some wild and beautiful melody, such as some shepherd boy
might "pipe to Amarillis in