haracter together:
He saw the point of honour, as well as every thing else, in ridiculous
lights, and began to renounce its tyranny.

But I am too much in advance, and must retreat for more advantage. I
should not forget how much opinion is against me, and that I am to make my
way by the mere force and weight of evidence; without which I must not
hope to possess myself of the reader: No address, no insinuation will
avail. To this evidence, then, I now resort. The Courage of _Falstaff_ is
my Theme: And no passage will I spare from which any thing can be inferred
as relative to this point. It would be as vain as injudicious to attempt
concealment: How could I escape detection? The Play is in every one's
memory, and a single passage remembered in detection would tell, in the
mind of the partial observer, for fifty times its real weight. Indeed this
argument would be void of all excuse if it declined any difficulty; if it
did not meet, if it did not challenge opposition. Every passage then shall
be produced from which, in my opinion, any inference, favourable or
unfavourable, has or can be drawn;--but not methodically, not formally, as
texts for comment, but as chance or convenience shall lead the way; but in
what shape soever, they shall be always distinguishingly marked for
notice. And so with that attention to truth and candour which ought to
accompany even our lightest amusements I proceed to offer such proof as
the case will admit, that _Courage_ is a part of _Falstaff_'s _Character_,
that it belonged to his constitution, and was manifest in the conduct and
practice of his whole life.

Let us then examine, as a source of very authentic information, what
Impressions _Sir John Falstaff_ had made on the characters of the Drama;
and in what estimation he is supposed to stand with mankind in general as
to the point of Personal Courage. But the quotations we make for this or
other purposes, must, it is confessed, be lightly touched, and no
particular passage strongly relied on, either in his favour or against
him. Every thing which he himself says, or is said of him, is so
phantastically discoloured by humour, or folly, or jest, that we must for
the most part look to the spirit rather than the letter of what is
uttered, and rely at last only on a combination of the whole.

We will begin then, if the reader pleases, by inquiring what Impression
the very Vulgar had taken of _Falstaff_. If it is not that of Cowardice,
be it w