lsome by the original discord of his
nature;--a slave by tenure of his own baseness,--made to bray and be brayed
at, to despise and be despicable. "Aye, Sir, but say what you will, he is
a very clever fellow, though the best friends will fall out. There was a
time when Ajax thought he deserved to have a statue of gold erected to him
and handsome Achilles, at the head of the Myrmidons, gave no little credit
to his _friend Thersites_!"

Act iv. sc. 5. Speech of Ulysses:--

"O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
That give a _coasting_ welcome ere it comes"--

Should it be "accosting?" "Accost her, knight, accost!" in the _Twelfth
Night_. Yet there sounds a something so Shakespearian in the phrase--"give
a coasting welcome" ("coasting" being taken as the epithet and adjective
of "welcome"), that had the following words been, "ere _they land_,"
instead of "ere it comes," I should have preferred the interpretation. The
sense now is, "that give welcome to a salute ere it comes."

"Coriolanus."

This play illustrates the wonderfully philosophic impartiality of
Shakespeare's politics. His own country's history furnished him with no
matter but what was too recent to be devoted to patriotism. Besides, he
knew that the instruction of ancient history would seem more
dispassionate. In _Coriolanus_ and _Julius Caesar_, you see Shakespeare's
good-natured laugh at mobs. Compare this with Sir Thomas Brown's
aristocracy of spirit.

Act i. sc. 1. Marcius' speech:--

... "He that depends
Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye?"

I suspect that Shakespeare wrote it transposed!

"Trust ye? Hang ye!"

_Ib._ sc. 10. Speech of Aufidius:--

... "Mine emulation
Hath not that honour in't, it had; for where
I thought to crush him in an equal force,
True sword to sword; I'll potch at him some way
Or wrath, or craft may get him.--
... My valour (poison'd
With only suffering stain by him) for him
Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary,
Being naked, sick, nor fane, nor capitol,
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifices,
Embankments all of fury, shall lift up
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst
My hate to Marcius."

I have such deep faith in Shakespeare's heart-lore, that I take for
granted that this is in nature, and not as a mere anomaly; although I
cannot in myself discover any germ of possible feeling, which cou