312 ShaJcspeare a Naturalist, 



if a lover, 



" He may bestride the gossamers 

 That idle in the wanton summer air, 

 And yet not fall ; " 



if a villain with a smiling cheek, he compares him to " a 

 goodly apple rotten at the lieart ;" and, when old, his arms are 



" Like to a wither'd pine 

 That drops its sapless branches to the ground." 



When Warwick dies, in what a fine strain of metaphor, 

 drawn from natural objects, he makes him lament : 



" Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, 

 Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, 

 Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ; 

 Whose top branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree. 

 And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. 

 These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil. 

 Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun. 

 To search the secret treasons of the world.'* 



When Wolsey falls from his high state, how beautifully he 

 moralises ; comparing man to a tree that puts forth leaves,, 

 blossoms, and then is killed by frost when its fruit is ripening. 

 These lines are too well known to present them here. In 

 another passage he likens his fall to " a bright exhalation in 

 the evening," which passes swiftly away and is no more seen ; 

 another phenomenon of nature, equally well selected with the 

 former, to express the suddenness with which worldly glory 

 and prosperity frequently disappear. 



There are a few more passages regarding man which must 

 yet be noticed ; such as the accurate description of the appear- 

 ances presented by one who had been strangled, and the 

 sensations of one poisoned. They both contain that which, 

 if all the rest were wanting, would prove Shakspeare to have 

 been a most accurate and intense observer of nature, whether 

 human or external. 



" See ! his face is black, and full of blood ; 

 His eye-balls further out than when he lived; 

 Staring full ghastly like a strangled man: 

 His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling. 

 His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasp'd 

 And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued^" 



Henry Vf., Part ii., act 3. sc. 3. 



" Poisoned 



And none of you will bid the winter come 



To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ; 



Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 



Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the North 



To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips. 



And comfort me with cold." JCing John, act 5. sc. 7. 



