rRCSCOTT, PRINTER, 
 
 NELSON SQUARE. 
 
mmwmi ©atalogtte 
 
 OF 
 
 A SERIES 
 
 OF 
 
 CABINET PICTURES, 
 
 ILLUSTRATING THE 
 
 PLAYS OF SHAKESPEARE, 
 
 PAINTED BY 
 
 HENRY SINGLETON. 
 
 WITH 
 
 A MEMOIR AND INTRODUCTION, 
 
 JOSEPH O'LEARY. 
 
 n 
 
 LONDON : 
 J. HOGARTH, 60, GREAT PORTLAND STREET. 
 
 1843. 
 
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 4& 
 
 U>oxr\ 
 
 London : 
 J. Truscott, Printer, Nelson Square, and Hlackfriars Road. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The unique collection analysed in the following pages, 
 stands almost alone amongst the works of British artists, 
 and was with Singleton a labour of love. The nearest 
 approach to it which we have, is Smirke's illustration of 
 Don Quixote; but the subject, though exquisitely handled 
 by that artist, did not afford the wide and diversified range 
 furnished by the works of one of whom it can be truly 
 said, " age cannot wither, nor custom stale his infinite 
 variety/' Smirke's collection has been dispersed amongst 
 various purchasers. It is to be hoped, that whoever 
 becomes the possessor of that to which Singleton devoted 
 so much of the labour we delight in, which physics pain, 
 will be careful to preserve it in its integrity. It would be 
 gothic in the last degree, and greatly detract from the 
 value of the collection, to deprive it of even the least 
 attractive of the compartments which compose it. 
 
 It is evident from the manner in which the subjects are 
 handled, that Singleton must have studied his author with 
 intense assiduity and devotion, for he has made the can- 
 vass speak almost to the very rhythmus, the language of 
 the bard. We scarcely ever knew a sincere worshipper of 
 Shakespeare, who did not catch, in the degree of his devo- 
 tion, a portion of the poet's inspiration, and in some mea- 
 sure even of his genius. Singleton read Shakespeare with 
 a poet's eye, and his pictured comments are infinitely 
 
 a 2 
 
IV 
 
 beyond the laboured annotations of the scholiast critics, 
 whose pedantic interpretations too often mar the text which 
 they affect to mend. These works are indeed a noble and 
 appropriate tribute to the memory of our immortal bard. 
 
 In viewing the collection, one feels all the fresh impres- 
 sions produced by the first perusal of the dramas vividly 
 recalled, whilst memory and tradition conjure up to the 
 mind's eye histrionic visions of those by whom the leading 
 characters were impersonated. We think of Garrick, the 
 Kembles, Kean, and all those whose high but passing, 
 and almost evanescent powers, gave a temporary form and 
 pressure to the everlasting creations of him who furnished 
 their living fame, and still sustains their fleeting memories. 
 As an adjunct to an English library, this collection would 
 be peculiarly appropriate. Shakespeare's picture pages 
 in a Briton's eyes, and to all who speak in his " land's 
 tongue," must, with one exception, be looked upon as the 
 foremost work of all the world, and therefore a series of 
 illustrations, which gives at a glance, in lines which speak 
 characters, and hues (t that have words,' 5 the whole sub- 
 stance of the dramas admirably concentrated, should be 
 held in proportionate estimation. 
 
 Throughout the entire series of illustrations, notwith- 
 standing the great variety, and not unfrequently the 
 antagonism of the subjects, there is an extraordinary con- 
 sistency of style, which imparts a unity to the whole per- 
 formance. Without the slightest liability to the charge 
 of mannerism (except that all is in the manner of 
 Shakespeare,) either of the pictures seen anywhere will 
 be recognised as pertaining to a series, and this furnishes 
 another reason why they should not be separated. The 
 drawing throughout is bold, free, vigorous, and at the 
 same time extremely correct ; the colouring clear, simple,, 
 
and effective, and the invention abounds in striking truth, 
 so real in nature, and so perfect in art, that the clown or 
 the critic might pronounce upon it. These qualities will, 
 perhaps, be more peculiarly remarked in the tragic illus- 
 trations, such as " Richard's Dream," and the " Blasted 
 heath scene," in Macbeth — each perfect in the three car- 
 dinal points of invention, composition, and expression, 
 and each coloured with such a fine discrimination of tone, 
 that the era and the action are told in colours chronolo- 
 gical. It is to the great simplicity and power of colouring 
 that the heath scene is mainly indebted for its wild sub- 
 limity; and it is this also which produces the thrilling 
 awe, that " makes the blood cold, and the hair to stare," in 
 the tent scene, at Bosworth. The same remark applies 
 to several other pieces in the collection, and to none more 
 than the finely conceived, and admirably executed vision 
 of Brutus. 
 
 One curious and happy feature in these productions of 
 Singleton, brings him into the closest possible alliance 
 with the poet. Throughout all his works, Shakespeare 
 displays a power of acclimating language. Open, for in- 
 stance, any of his plays, even at random, and by some 
 exquisitely-wrought spell, some slight metaphor or passing 
 simile, some tone of thought or form of expression, not 
 dependent for its effect upon any close or obvious local 
 association, it will at once bring you into the very region 
 where the action of the scene is cast. The same spell is 
 more or less observable in all Singleton's illustrations. 
 Take, for instance, that beautiful gem of art, the Flight of 
 Jessica, and you have a Venetian romance told in a single 
 picture. It recalls, at one glance, all the associations of 
 the midnight masque, the moonlit serenade, the soft ripple, 
 and sweet echo of 
 
 "The song and oar of Adria's gondolier." 
 A 3 
 
VI 
 
 The same remark will apply to the re-union of Othello 
 and Desdemona in Cyprus. The whole atmosphere seems 
 pregnant with delicious odours, calculated to give the soul 
 "a content so absolute/ 5 that "if it were then to die, 
 } t were then to be most happy." The very goddess of the 
 isle appears to inform the wtiole picture, breathing her 
 sweetest spirit throughout. 
 
 In the comic illustrations. Singleton is even still hap- 
 pier ; and the tone of his humour is completely Shakes- 
 perian. As is the case with all true lovers of Shakespeare, 
 the fat knight is Singleton's prime favourite, and he pre- 
 sents him to us in five different aspects. We have him, 
 first, at his quips and cranks with the prince and his wild 
 associates, crowned with a chair- cushion, and enacting the 
 mock solemnity in which he plays the part of the king, 
 and questions young Henry as to " his manner of life " 
 and " how he is accompanied/' The grouping in this 
 picture is managed with immense comic effect, and there 
 is a rich unctuous tone in the colouring admirably appro- 
 priate to the delineation of one who " lards the lean earth 
 as he moves along." The very atmosphere of the apart- 
 ment seems fat and oily, whilst the " mountain of flesh " 
 appears to monopolise all space, to the exclusion of the 
 other actors in the scene. Again, we have him " taking 
 his ease at his inn " with Doll Tearsheet, — an admirable 
 pourtrayment of one abandoning himself to utter sen- 
 suality. In another, he is placed in grotesque contrast 
 between Mrs. Page and Mrs. Ford. A fourth represents 
 him relinquishing the booty at Gadshill ; and a fifth shows 
 him abashed at the rebuke of the king. In each, the 
 individuality is distinctly preserved, and the delicate skill 
 of the artist is exquisitely shown by the happy manner in 
 which he discriminates between the old profligate's undis- 
 
Vll 
 
 guised sensuality with Doll at Eastcheap, and the subdued 
 licentiousness with the Wives of Windsor. 
 
 Singleton revels, almost to riot, in the rich comedy of 
 Shakespeare, and in the quaint characters exhibits a dry 
 drollery, infinitely beyond anything which the stage has 
 ever furnished, even in its palmiest days ; whilst the effect 
 is produced in the simplest, and apparently the least 
 elaborate, manner. He leads comedy to the very limits 
 of farce, but never passes the rubicon. 
 
 It is difficult to say, whether the artist most excels 
 in the broadly humorous or the quaintly comic. Putting 
 the Falstaff illustrations (which are sui generis) out of 
 view, we scarcely know whether to prefer Dogberry, 
 Trinculo, Sir Toby Belch, &c, or Pistol, Fluellen, Parolles, 
 Armado, and Malvolio. These are questions upon which 
 individual taste must decide ; but, as respects the merits 
 of the collection, there can be but one opinion. The 
 undertaking was a bold one, and the performance is 
 worthy of the spirit which prompted it. In the devoted 
 retirement of his latter years, Singleton has produced a 
 national work, which ought to possess a place amongst 
 our public monuments ; and, as the principle is now 
 admitted universally that the culture of the fine arts 
 improves national manners, it is to be hoped that a series 
 of illustrations, so powerfully calculated to stimulate the 
 increasing veneration for our sweetest and our wisest 
 bard, will adorn some one of those public places to which 
 the people at large have access. 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 Henry Singleton, the subject of the present memoir, was 
 born in the city of London, in October, 1766. Having had the 
 misfortune to lose his father in infancy, the melancholy bereave- 
 ment was, in some measure, compensated for by the kind solicitude 
 of his uncle, Mr. W. Singleton, (a miniature painter of consi- 
 derable eminence,) who, at an early age, initiated him into the 
 principles of the art, which he subsequently pursued with an 
 ardour only equalled by his success. Young Singleton was 
 constitutionally calculated to excel in an art into the study of 
 which he had been thrown by a happy chance, and the practice of 
 portrait painting, which too commonly checks the high imaginative 
 powers, furnished him with the means of producing the variety and 
 truthfulness of expression so remarkable in the Shakesperian 
 collection. To a vivid imagination, a rich fancy, and a prompt 
 perception, he added a closeness of observation, that controlled 
 and regulated " the light from heaven," which is too apt to lead 
 astray those who are quickened by its influence. In 1782, he 
 entered the Royal Academy, as a student, and obtained in 1784 the 
 first silver medal for a figure from life ; and in four years afterwards 
 the gold medal, the subject having been Alexander's feast. He 
 was, on this occasion, highly complimented by Sir J. Reynolds, 
 
and it is to be presumed that his early success in the higher branch 
 of his art, prompted the desire to leave behind some durable 
 monument of his powers. The young artist of twenty-two, who 
 so distinguished himself on the subject of Dryden's forced ode, 
 could not fail to excel when illustrating Shakespeare's animated 
 pages. 
 
 By a reference to the catalogues of the academy, it will be 
 found, that Singleton contributed a drawing at the early age of 
 twelve years; and from 1783, to 1839, a period of fifty-six years, 
 he continued to contribute regularly to the exhibitions. The 
 spacious walls of the exhibition-room had to be covered annually by 
 the labours of a comparatively few artists, and the number of 
 works allowed to be sent in by each individual, not being, as at 
 present, limited as to amount, Singleton added to his reputation, 
 increased his income, and maintained the credit of the academy, 
 by the frequency and value of his contributions. As an instance 
 of the fertility of his invention, as well as his desire to sustain the 
 institution, it need only be stated that he frequently sent in to the 
 exhibition from fourteen to eighteen pictures in one season. His 
 industry was unceasing, and the pictures exhibited from his hand, 
 by far exceeded the number sent in by any other artist. 
 
 He refrained from proposing himself as a candidate for acade- 
 mic distinction, until such time as he considered he could claim it 
 as a right, rather than sue for it as a favour, for his spirit was too 
 high to stoop to the arts of sycophancy and intrigue. In 1806, 
 finding that he had not only sustained, but considerably increased, 
 his reputation as an artist, that he had constant employment for 
 his pencil, and that he had by his talents and industry acquired a 
 considerable competency, both he and his friends confidently con- 
 sidered that he was fully entitled to seek the distinction which it 
 was the province of the academy to confer ; and it was further 
 thought, that the moral worth, the intellectual qualities, the gentle 
 manners, and generous disposition of the man, would have 
 strengthened the claim of the artist. Dis aider visum. In the 
 
list which contained Singleton's signature as a candidate for an 
 associateship, there was not to be found another name which could 
 ground any claims comparative to his. He performed the usual 
 courtesy of canvassing the forty members as a matter of course, 
 for he expected his election at their hands, not by any means as a 
 personal favour, but from a confident reliance in their impartial jus- 
 tice. This hope, however, was doomed to be disappointed, when — 
 not less to the indignation of the applicant than to the amazement 
 of every one — it was found that a Mr. Oliver — a mild, inoffensive 
 man, it is true, but a person utterly unknown — stamped with no 
 public approbation, and who, neither before nor after his election, 
 had energy or industry enough to produce a work amounting in 
 its constituent parts even to mediocrity — was preferred to one, who, 
 for a considerable period, filled a large space in the public eye, and 
 whose contributions had done so much for the exhibitions, when 
 other artists, being either less industrious, or having less employ- 
 ment, did little or nothing to sustain them. 
 
 His pride having been thus severely wounded, he resolved never 
 again to subject himself to the possibility of a similar insult. An 
 estrangement grew between him and the members of the Royal 
 Academy ; yet, he had reason to think that the members subse- 
 quently felt real regret for the injustice which they had done him. 
 Though estranged from the Academicians, he still clung with filial 
 fondness to the institution, of which he considered himself the 
 child, frequently admitting, that to it he was indebted for his 
 education in the art as well as for his fame and emoluments, and 
 to the last he contributed to its annual exhibitions. The wrong 
 and the wrong-doers are now bygones, and it is with regret that 
 we feel ourselves compelled to advert to this circumstance, in order 
 to answer the question, " Why was not Singleton a member of 
 the Academy ?" 
 
 The readiness of his pencil, the purity of his style, and the 
 skill and simplicity of his composition attracted the notice of 
 the publishers who soon put his talents into requisition, and a 
 
8 
 
 quick succession of prints, on popular subjects, after his designs ap- 
 peared before the public, adding, at the same time, to the reputa- 
 tion of the artist and profits of the publisher. Several of these 
 illustrated the success of British arms, in various engagements by 
 sea and land, which took place about the period.* His subjects 
 from familiar life found equal favour with the public ; and he was 
 peculiarly remarkable for the exquisite delicacy and grace which 
 distinguished his female forms, and the sweet and touching ten- 
 derness of his infantile delineations. How well he deserved the 
 reputation will be seen by the parting of Csesar and Octavia, the 
 meeting of Othello and Desdelnona in Cyprus, the Princes going 
 to the Tower, and others of the like class in the following collec- 
 tion. His pictures from rural life, about the same periodf, 
 gave promise of those beautiful pastoral creations which we find in 
 "Love's Labour Lost," "The Winter's Tale," and "As you 
 Like it." For rustic simplicity, truth, and beauty, the scene with 
 Autolicus is unparalleled in the j)roductions of British art. 
 
 Singleton's high reputation procured constant employment for 
 his pencil, and he soon found himself in easy if not in affluent cir- 
 cumstances. No man better deserved wealth, for none knew better 
 how to use it. His hand was " open as day to melting charity." 
 Wherever he was aware of distress he hastened to relieve it, and 
 
 * Amongst these were " The Fall of Tippoo Sultan ;" " Tippoo's Sur- 
 render j" " Tippoo delivering his Sons as Hostages j" " Cornwallis receiving 
 Tippoo's Sons j" " Battle between the combined Armies of Austria and 
 Russia, and the Army of the French Republic •" " Nelson boarding the San 
 Josef;" " Nelson wounded on board the Vanguard j" " Duncan receiving 
 De Winter," &c. 
 
 t Amongst these were the " Sheltered Peasants ; " " The Husband- 
 man's Refreshment ;" " The Farm Yard ;" " The Industrious Cottagers," 
 &c. His largest works were of a different character, and of a didactic 
 style of art, such as " Christ's entry into Jerusalem ;" " Mary Magdalen 
 washing the Saviour's Feet j" " Adam bearing the dead body of Abel ;" 
 and others. 
 
his greatest delight was to aid a struggling brother of the art, 
 wearied and way-worn in climbing 
 
 " The steep, where Fame's proud temple shines afar." 
 
 A decree of Napoleon, excluding everything English from the 
 Continent, gave a terrible blow to the print trade ; * and for a con- 
 siderable time militated, with great severity, against British artists. 
 In 1803, however, a new field was opened by Sharpe, who com- 
 menced his beautifully illustrated edition of the native classics ; 
 and subjects from the Spectator, the Guardian, the Tatler, and 
 other popular periodicals — of which Singleton furnished a full 
 proportion — brought the native energies of the art here into full 
 operation, and produced some of the finest specimens of the Eng- 
 lish school of engraving. 
 
 Like the poet, the illustration of whose immortal works was the 
 last labour of his love, Singleton's application was unwearied. He 
 dedicated himself to his art with a passionate fondness, and, at the 
 same time, cultivated every sister muse to inspire and exalt his 
 devotion. He was a good historian, had a highly poetical imagi- 
 nation, and possessed a singular sense of harmony, which tells in 
 his colouring with an effect like sound. The position into which 
 he was accidentally thrown greatly favoured the developement of 
 his natural powers, and the designs of Mortimer, which were very 
 popular at the begining of our artist's career, excited his opening 
 imagination, and stimulated the high intuitive faculty which ulti- 
 mately produced the great triumph of British art, analysed in the 
 appended catalogue. 
 
 In his life there was little vicissitude, — to the end it was an even 
 stream, clear, bright, and unruffled. He owed nothing to others — 
 all to himself; but his gentleness, the usual concomitant of high 
 genius, his downright English integrity, and his free independent 
 spirit, procured him many personal friends, of whom he was justly 
 proud. His mind was cast in an antique mould. With a self-re- 
 liance completely distinct from self-sufficiency, he proposed to 
 himself a certain goal as the terminus of his ambition, and took 
 
10 
 
 =as his motto at starting, in me omnis spes mihi est. This doctrine 
 he strongly inculcated upon all young aspirants in the art ; and 
 his great -object appeared to be, to free them from thraldom of 
 every kind, whether corporate or individual. His own example 
 was a noble one, and proved to the full the efficiency of his creed 
 when practically carried out. 
 
 Having realised considerable property, he conceived the idea of 
 illustrating his favourite poet, and, retiring almost wholly from the 
 society of his friends, pursued his task in secret, with the utmost 
 assiduity, for the last ten years of his life. The work had been 
 scarcely oompleted when his exhausted nature gave way, and 
 death snatched him from the reward of his labours, on the 
 13th of September, 1839; to the deep regret of a large circle of 
 friends and admirers, who mourned, with unfeigned sorrow, the 
 double loss of his talents and his virtues. 
 
CATALOGUE. 
 
 " His life was gentle, and the elements 
 
 " So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up 
 
 " And say to all the world — ' This was a Man.' " 
 
 THE BIRTH OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 No. 1. 
 
 This is a bright and graceful composition, full of spirit and 
 beauty. It seems done at 
 
 " The breezy call of incense-breathing morn." 
 
 — such a morn as would give a notion of Nature's second birth. At 
 a little distance, in an open glade, is the infant Shakespeare, 
 surrounded by the Muses, whilst numerous aerial fancies flit and 
 hover above, and about him. In the nearer foreground we see, on 
 each side, Melpomene and Thalia. The former, to the right hand 
 of the poet, in sombre shadowing ; whilst a lively light, which seems 
 caught from the eyes of the infant bard, plays about the head and 
 bosom of the comic muse. The grouping is managed with great 
 taste and skill, and the whole action of the piece is so contrived as 
 to tend to the centre. It is an admirable specimen of luxuriant 
 imagination, combined with refined taste and correct judgment* 
 
 HENRY V. 
 
 No. 2. 
 
 Act v. Scene 1.— Fluellen, Pistol, and Gower. 
 Flu. " Eat, I pray you ; will you have some more sauce to your 
 
 " leek." 
 
12 
 
 Pistol Eating the Leek, is one of Singleton's happy hits in the 
 quaintly humourous, and is exceedingly rich in serio-comic expres- 
 sion. There is a stern drollery in the figure of Fluellen, which is 
 a little comedy in itself; whilst that of Pistol, as he chews in 
 bitterness the cud of what he jested on in bravado, gives an exact 
 idea of the swaggering bully, whose inflated rhodomontade will be 
 satisfied with no less a vehicle than blank verse to cany it out into 
 expression. One cannot help envying the gusto with which Gower 
 enjoys the scene of the bully's bastinadoed repast. 
 
 No. 3. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 8. — King Henry, Exeter, Warwick, &c. 
 K. H. " O God ! thy arm was here ! 
 
 " And not to us, but to thine arm alone 
 " Ascribe we all !" 
 
 The Triumph at Agincourt, is in fine moral contrast with the 
 
 former picture. The figure of Henry, whilst in brief and ardent 
 
 thanksgiving he attributes the triumph to an Almighty rather than 
 
 a human arm, is full of holy energy. He looks, in his war gear, 
 
 the embodiment of an armed prayer, whilst, to the back ground, 
 
 appears— 
 
 " A field arrayed 
 
 With helm and blade, 
 
 And plumes in the gay wind dancing." 
 
 The attitude of the King, and the look of intense piety, forcibly 
 recall the lines of the Archbishop of Canterbury, in the first scene 
 of the play, when, describing the various powers exhibited by the 
 young sovereign, he says — 
 
 " Hear him but reason in divinity, 
 
 And all admiring, with an inward wish, 
 
 You would desire the king were made a prelate." 
 
 No. 4. 
 
 Act v. Scene 2. — King Henry and Princess Catherine. 
 K. Hen. " Put off your maiden blushes, avouch the thoughts of 
 your heart with the looks of an Empress, take me by the 
 hand and say, Harry of England, I am thine." 
 
13 
 
 The Courtship of Catherine is light, easy, and graceful. The 
 figure of the King is expressive of a confidence, which will not be 
 said " nay ;" a word to which the lady appears to have no in- 
 clination. 
 
 MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 No. 5. 
 
 Act hi. Scene i. — Dramatis Persons. 
 
 Titania {caressing Bottom). Thou art wise as thou art beautiful. " 
 Puck. " On the ground sleep sound 
 
 " I'll apply to your eye, 
 
 " Gentle lover, remedy." 
 
 The Sleeping Scene. The illustrations of this play are com- 
 pressed into one frieze, hut it is a glorious one — full of fine fancies 
 and sweet shapes, which come to the eye like the rich visions of 
 a dream. The figure of Titania, so light, so fine, so graceful, and 
 so buoyant, seems to float under the eye ; and we suspend our 
 respiration, lest a breath should move it. Oberon is finely con- 
 ceived and beautifully embodied, "a god in grace, a fairy in 
 dimension :" and the clumsy form of Bottom, stretched slug- 
 gishly in the foreground, tough, thick, and palpable to feeling as 
 to sight, greatly heightens the exquisite ideality of the composition. 
 This has been a favourite subject with artists; but Singleton has 
 capped their conception. In the whole invention, but principally 
 in Bottom, this piece defies competition. The bye-play of the 
 picture is equally good, — Puck disenchanting the eyes of the sleep- 
 ing lovers, in whose entangled affections he finds such sport, leads, 
 without any violent gap in the imagination, to two 
 
 " Of the rude mechanicals 
 Who work for bread, upon the Athenian stalls." 
 
 and who appear to be practising their parts in the " most lament- 
 able comedy," In fulness of imagination, in fineness of fancy, in 
 
14 
 
 nobleness of invention, and delicacy of execution, this work, for it 
 is a work, might challenge any production. The effect of the 
 landscape is charming in the extreme. 
 
 CYMBELINE. 
 
 No. 6. 
 
 Act ii. Scene ii. — Imogen sleeping ; Iachimo. 
 Iachimo. " On her left breast, 
 
 " A mole, cinque-spotted, like the crimson drop 
 " I' th' bottom of the cowslip." 
 
 Iachimo in Imogens Chamber. There are several other posi- 
 tions in this drama, which would be much more effective to exhibit 
 the skill of the artist. We do not much like the sleeping figure. 
 That of Iachimo, however, is finely imagined ; and there is some- 
 thing half fiendish in the intentness of his scrutiny, as he kneels 
 over the couch of Imogen. 
 
 '& v 
 
 No. 7. 
 
 Act hi. Scene v. — Imogen (in boy's attire), Bellarius, 
 
 GlJIDERIUS, AND ArVIRAGTJS. 
 Imogen. " Good masters, harm me not 1 
 
 " Before I entered here I called ; and thought 
 " T' have begged or bought what I have took.'* 
 
 Imogen entering from the Cave, is a pleasing contrast of grace 
 and vigor. The lusty sinewy forms of the forest-bred princes, are 
 drawn with great force and firmness. There is motion in every 
 muscle, which appears to tell of strength combined with agility ; 
 and an in-born sense of nobleness seems to invest each figure with 
 a spirit that would 
 
 " Spurn the sea, 
 If it did roar at them." 
 
 The gentle graceful figure of Imogen, is just such a form as would 
 be calculated to attract the sudden sympathy of her unknown 
 brothers. 
 
15 
 
 No. 8. 
 
 Act v. Scene 1. — Posthumus, Iachimo. 
 Post. " Speak, Iachimo : I had you down, and might 
 
 " Have made you finish." 
 
 Posthumus Defeating Iachimo, has a due proportion of the 
 power, which Singleton so spiritedly imparts to all his pictures of 
 vigorous action. 
 
 KING LEAR. 
 
 No. 9. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 1. — Gloster and Edgar. 
 Glos. u Knowest thou the way to Dover ? " 
 
 Edg. " Ay, master." 
 
 Edgar conducting Gloster, is very fine. A grouping of most 
 imposing effect, is contrived merely from two figures. The face of 
 Gloster, and his manly form bowed down by the premature age of 
 suffering and sorrow, yet still "majestic, though in ruin," are 
 forcibly conceived, and vigorously expressed; and the youthful 
 figure of Edgar in the maniac's fantastic garb forms a fine and 
 affecting contrast. 
 
 No. 10. 
 Act i. Scene 1. — Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Kent, 
 Gloster, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia, &c. 
 Kent. " Good my liege." 
 Lear. " Peace, Kent ! 
 
 " Come not between the dragon and his wrath." 
 
 Kent pleading for Cordelia, is a powerful picture. The figure 
 of the king has immense force and energy. The distraction of 
 the face, wrought by an agony of passion which is verging to the 
 point when it finds relief in words, is fearfully expressed, and 
 contrasts finely with the meek, submissive, and gentle sorrow, 
 beautifully delineated in the features of Cordelia " so young and 
 
16 
 
 true." The kneeling figure of Kent, as he " comes between the 
 dragon and his wrath," is highly animated. It is drawn with 
 immense spirit, and, at the same time, with great care and 
 correctness. The forms and faces of Regan and Goneril are as 
 hard and subtle as their dispositions. 
 
 No. 11. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 7. — Lear, sleeping, Cordelia, Kent, and 
 Physician. 
 Cor. " Was this a face 
 
 " To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder." 
 
 Cordelia s Filial Piety is a sweet picture. The female figure is 
 full of tenderness, grace, and beauty. The gentle sorrow of 
 Cordelia, the more manly grief of Kent, and the deep sympathy of 
 the Physician, are all well expressed, whilst in the sleeping head 
 of Lear, the abiding sorrow of one, who has been " cut — cut to 
 the brain," is stamped in indelible lines. 
 
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 
 No. 12. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 6. — Timon and his Guests. 
 Tim. " Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, 
 " Of man and beast the infinite malady 
 " Crust you quite o'er." 
 
 Timon upbraiding his Guests, is in fine keeping with the text, 
 and if the play were now upon the stage, would be a noble histrionic 
 study. There is great concentrated force and nervous strength 
 of action in the figure of Timon, which form a fine pictorial contrast 
 to the hurried and dissipated flight of the routed revellers. 
 
17 
 
 No. 13. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 3. — Timon, Alcibiades, Phrynia, 
 and Tim an bra. 
 
 Tim. *- There 's gold to pay thy soldiers. 
 
 te Make large confusion ; and, thy fury spent, 
 " Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone." 
 
 Timon Distributing the Gold, is a well-imagined picture. 
 The female forms are very graceful, especially that of Timandra, 
 as she bends forward with her stretched-out vestment to catch the 
 golden shower. It would, jjerhaps, be an improvement upon the 
 picture if the features and form of Alcibiades were less feminine ; 
 but yet that might detract from the design of the artist, whose 
 object, it is to be presumed, in toning down the other characters, 
 was to give deeper effect to the figure of the misanthrope. The 
 figures of Timandra and Phrynia^ as well as that of Alcibiades, 
 abound in classic grace. 
 
 HENRY IV., SECOND PART. 
 
 No. 14. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 4.— Falstaef and Doll. 
 Doll. " I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young boy of 
 
 them all." 
 Fal. " What stuff wilt thou have a kirtle of?" 
 
 Falstaff with Doll.— This is an exquisite phase of Shake- 
 speare's pet creation — his fattest and fondest favourite. Singleton 
 revels, nay, he almost riots in Eastcheap, and like the poet of 
 whom he is by far the most faithful and spirited commentator, 
 seems as if he would make the Boar's Head his head-quarters, and 
 with old Sir John take his ease at that inn. The old Knight is in 
 his freest mood, unrestrained by any presence of nascent majesty, 
 and apparently utterly unconscious that Hal and Poins are watch- 
 ing the oily dalliance, or listening to his witty calumnies. It is, as 
 the prince describes it, " Saturn and Venus in conjunction." 
 
 D 
 
18 
 
 No. 15. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 4.— The King Sleeping, Prince Henry. 
 
 P. Hen. " Thy due from me 
 
 " Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood, 
 ' Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, 
 " Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously." 
 
 The Prince in the King's Chamber, is a good conception rim- 
 ing before the text, and anticipating the full information which is 
 made so speedily to follow. There is a royal repose in the sleep- 
 ing head of the King, and the whole is characterised by a chaste 
 
 and subdued expression. 
 
 No. 16. 
 
 Act v. Scene 8. — King, Faistaee, &c. 
 
 King. " I know thee not, old man ; fall to thy prayers ; 
 " I have long dream'd of such a kind of man, 
 " But, being awake, I do despise my dream." 
 
 Falstaff Rebuked. — The fat knight is here given with a dif- 
 ference and a nice distinction, in which great discrimination is 
 exhibited. To speak theatrically, he is thrown up against the side 
 scene, and yet, without losing any of his thick rotundity, he is 
 made to occupy less of space than in the other portraitures. Shal- 
 low, and his other followers, seem hustled and jostled by the re- 
 tiring figure of one who is himself a crowd. For comic effect, the 
 invention is first rate. The figure of the king is full of nobleness, 
 whilst the drooped head of the old debauchee looks as if it would 
 require some vast mechanical power to lift it to its wonted position. 
 Amongst the humorous adjuncts, well contrasted with the gay group- 
 ing of the procession on the other side of the picture, is the head of 
 Shallow, whose vanished hope of preferment, and " don't you wish 
 you may get it " request of the advanced thousand pounds, are 
 conveyed in the quaint, droll, and dry spirit of the text. 
 
19 
 
 THE TEMPEST. 
 
 No. 17. 
 
 Act 1. Scene 2, — Ferdinand, Prospero, Miranda, &c. 
 
 Ferd. " This is no mortal business, nor no sound 
 " That the earth owns." 
 
 Dramatis Personce. — The illustrations of this play are in one 
 undivided compartment, and the wild poetic atmosphere of the 
 fabled isle plays over the whole. It seems to he the very region 
 where "airy tongues might syllable men's names," without startling 
 the isle from its propriety. First, we have Prospero with 
 Miranda, just after she has heard " a tale that would cure deaf- 
 ness, " and as she, for the first time sees in Ferdinand a being upon 
 whom to pour out, with lavish profusion, all. the pent-up and unde- 
 veloped affections of her young and innocent heart. There is an 
 open artless expression of unsophisticated simplicity in the face of 
 Miranda that absolutely amounts to the pathetic. Prospero is 
 grave and earnest, with a noble and impressive countenance, in 
 which we can perceive all the intellectual vigour of one possessed 
 of preternatural power and in the act of exercising it. The next 
 represents the closing scene of the third act ; where, amidst the 
 delusions of the senses, and the dissonance of the storm, Alonzo is 
 awakened to remorse for his former conduct towards Prospero- 
 Though the figures are huddled together as if they foimd some 
 sense of safety in contact, the grouping is so managed as to pre- 
 serve a confused elegance. One fine old head, which we- take to be 
 that of the " honest lord " Gonzalo, is a noble study of drawing,, 
 execution, and character. The wild expressive features are finely 
 illuminated by the flashes of the storm, which plays madly with 
 his loose grey locks, and dashes his white beard about like foam. 
 Caliban, with Trinculo and Stephano, is well conceived ; and there 
 is great imagination in the pourtrayment of the monster. The 
 colours seem to be dashed in with bristles, but by a decided and 
 undistracted hand ; the whole presenting the effect of having been, 
 struck off at a blow. 
 
 d 2 
 
20 
 
 THE WINTER'S TALE. 
 
 No. 18. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 3. — Shepherd, Clown, and Perdita. 
 Shep. " Thou meet'st with things dying, I with things new 
 
 born. It was told me I should be rich by the fairies." 
 Clown. " You're a made man." 
 
 The Finding of Perdita. — Out of a not very promising subject, 
 the artist has contrived a most agreeable picture. The face, form, 
 and attitude of the old shepherd are each in each, and all in all, a 
 study. His head is noble — perhaps too much so. It might be 
 that of Nestor ; and yet there is a natural nobility in hale old age : 
 it has something of the reverence of hoar antiquity about it. The 
 clown is highly characteristic — more quaint than comic. The 
 back ground of the piece is very fine. The elemental strife, con- 
 founding clouds with waves, is fearfully expressed, and the sea, 
 as it " takes up the shore," seems about to " confound and swallow 
 navigation up." 
 
 No. 19. 
 
 Act v. Scene 3. — Dramatis Persons. — Hermione as a 
 statue. 
 
 Paul. " My lord's so far transported, that 
 " He'll think anon it lives." 
 
 The Statue Scene is a fine picture of mixed emotion. The 
 eager outstretched form of Leontes, writhing with bitter recollec- 
 tions, whilst he feels as if " the stones rebuked him," and the 
 strong action proportionally imparted to all the spectators, form a 
 happy contrast with the still figure of Hermione, upon which the 
 principal light is made to fall. The kneeling figure of Perdita is 
 sweetly conceived, and the whole of the grouping most skilfully 
 managed. 
 
 
21 
 
 No. 20. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 3. — Autolicus, Clown, Mopsa and Dorcas. 
 Clown. " What hast here ? ballads ?" 
 
 Mopsa. "Pray now, buy some. I love a ballad in print, or a' life ' } 
 for then we are sure they are true." 
 
 Autolicus Vending his Wares, is a pastoral comedy in miniature 
 exquisitely acted. The shrewd humour and cunning knavery so 
 well pourtrayed in the pedlar, contrast admirably with the rustic 
 simplicity of his unsuspecting dupes. The two female figures are 
 charming — rural to the very shoe-tie, and redolent of green lanes 
 and hay ricks. 
 
 OTHELLO. 
 
 No. 21. 
 
 Act i. Scene 1. — Iago, Roderigo, Brabantio. 
 Iago. " Awake ! what ho ! Brabantio ! ho ! thieves ! thieves ! 
 
 Look to your house, your daughter, and your bags." 
 
 Brabantio alarmed. The action here is very spirited, and the 
 whole tone of the picture, both in drawing and colouring, lighted 
 up by the wild glare of torches, is completely emblematic of what 
 Iago wishes to effect ; namely, 
 
 " The timorous accent and dire yell, 
 
 As when, by night and negligence, the fire 
 Is spied in populous cities." 
 
 No. 22. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 1. — Othello, Desdemona, Cassio, Iago, 
 Roderigo, Emilia. 
 
 Oth. " It gives me wonder, great as my content, 
 
 " To see you here before me." 
 
 The Meeting in Cyprus — is a bright and sunny production, 
 and has the glow of the goddess who was said to have presided: 
 over the isle. The figure and face of 
 
 " The gentle lady wedded to the Moor," 
 
22 
 
 are eminently beautiful, and fully expressive of the sweetest and 
 most beloved of all Shakespeare's female creations. Othello's 
 figure, too, is finely outlined ; and the Moorish costume offers an 
 opportunity for rich but chaste colouring and pleasing contrast. 
 The grouping is very graceful, and the whole effect so captivating, 
 that the eye and the mind can recur to it again and again, with 
 renewed, if not increased gratification. 
 
 No. 23. 
 
 Act v. Scene 2. — Desdemona asleep. 
 Oth. " Yet I'll not shed her blood, 
 
 " Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, 
 " And smooth as monumental alabaster ; 
 " Yet she must die." 
 
 The Death of Desdemona. — This is a peculiarly coloured jric- 
 ture. The hues appear rather bright and rich, contrasted with the 
 terrible deed about to be perpetrated ; but still there is a mystic 
 depth of tone which, after all, harmonizes with the object. There 
 is not much finish in the female figure, but that of the Moor is 
 elaborately worked out ; and the calm determined expression in 
 his face indicates, as clearly as the text, 
 
 " That nought is done in hate, but all in honour." 
 
 CATHERINE AND PETEUCHIO. 
 
 No. 24. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 1. — Petruchio arcd Kate ; Servants with 
 
 supper. 
 Pet. " Out, out you rogue ! you pluck my foot awry. 
 
 " Take that, and mend the plucking off the other." 
 
 The Welcome Home. — Here we have Comedy in her highest 
 altitude, when the sock becomes almost as lofty as the buskin. 
 There is absolute dignity in the mock passion of Petruchio, whilst, 
 as if " all were done in reverend care of her," he " kills Kate in 
 her own humour." Her amazement is finely expressed, when she 
 
23 
 
 seems at length to be convinced, and to be cowered by the convic- 
 tion, that there is a temper more violent, and a disposition more 
 determined than her own, with means and appliances to boot more 
 ample and immediate. A fine match to the same powerful ex- 
 pression of comic force, almost bordering upon the tragic, will be 
 found in the illustration of the " Comedy of Errors," where Anti- 
 pholus of Ephesus is refused admission to his own house. If this 
 style were better attended to, and studied with diligence, a new 
 and effective school of English art might be formed from it. 
 
 No. 25. 
 
 THE INDUCTION. 
 
 Scene 2. — Christopher Sly, Mock Lady, and Attendants. 
 Lady. " How fares my noble Lord ?" 
 Sly. " Marry, I fare well, for here is cheer enough. 
 
 " Where is my wife ?" 
 Lady. " Here, noble Lord, what is thy will with her ?" 
 
 Sty's Transformation has immense humour. Tis an imme- 
 diate cure for the spleen — a thorough exorcism for all blue devil- 
 ment. The drunken Cobbler is represented just at the moment 
 when he is beginning to be satisfied of his nobility, by the assur- 
 ances of the servants, and the splendour of all around him ; whilst, 
 at the same time, nature's second and stronger self — habit, prompts 
 the cry for "Once again, a pot o' the smallest ale." The very 
 text is legible in the leering pampered look with which the sottish 
 sensualist commands the absence of the rest, when the disguised 
 Page is introduced. The whole humour of the conception is fully 
 wrought out, even to the half-seen faces of those who catch 
 glimpses of the farce from every available opening. 
 
24 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 
 
 No. 26. 
 
 Act i. Scene 2. — Armado, Costard, and Moth. 
 Arm. " Take away this villain, shut him up." 
 Moth. " Come, you transgressing slave, away !" 
 
 Armado reproving Costard. This is an inimitable bit of quiet 
 and quaintly humorous contrast. The crabbed comedy of the old 
 pedant's countenance, is pleasantly heightened and set off by the 
 suppressed fun in that of Costard ; who, even in the presence 
 of his judge, can scarcely quench, for the nonce, the recollection of 
 " the merry days of desolation he has seen." The " tender Juve- 
 nal" Moth, with his arch aud waggish leer, is exquisitely hit off. 
 It is just the free, sketchy draught which Sir Walter Scott has 
 since more elaborately extended in Flibbertigibbet. 
 
 No. 27. 
 
 Act v. Scene 2. — King, Biron, Longueville, Rosaline, 
 
 Moth, &c. 
 
 Biron. " Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, 
 
 " That we, like savages, may worship it." 
 Rosa. " My face is but a moon, and clouded too." 
 King. " Blessed are clouds to do as such clouds do." 
 
 The Masque in the Park, is a charming picture. There is a 
 forest air of freedom, as well in the whole grouping, as in the action 
 of each individual figure, which gives it an indescribable attraction, 
 and makes us long to be with the masqueraders ; so full, so fresh, 
 so lively, seems to be the spirit which animates them. The draw- 
 ing is free, yet very correct ; and the colouring pure and brilliant. 
 
 No. 28, 
 
 Act iv. Scene 2. — Jacquenet Holofernes, Costard, and 
 
 Nathaniel. 
 
 Jacq. " Good master parson, read me this letter; it was given 
 me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armado." 
 
25 
 
 Reading Armado's Letter. — This is rich in the highest degree 
 of Shakespeare's quaintest humour; every figure, every face, in 
 the piece is tinged with the spirit of the original conception. The 
 Fadladeenair of Holofernes, criticising Sir Nathaniel's reading, and 
 discerning that he " finds not the apostrophes, and so misses the 
 accent," is superlative. The well-favoured rusticity of Jacquenetta, 
 the stolid cunning of Costard, and the supple acquiescence of Sir 
 Nathaniel, are well conveyed. A happy effect is contrived, by 
 making the whole observance turn upon Holofernes, as if with a 
 view of ascertaining, confounded as they are by his sesquipedelian 
 words, how it could be in nature, 
 
 " That one small head could carry all he knew." 
 
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 No. 29. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 7. — Jessica and Lorenzo. 
 Lor. " What, art thou come ? On, gentlemen, away ; 
 
 " Our masquing mates by this time for us stay." 
 
 The Flight of Jessica is a charming picture ; exquisitely light, 
 graceful, and elegant. The figures seem to move under the eye, 
 and the air of the Adriatic hovers around them. 
 
 No. 30. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 1. — The Duke, Anthonio, Bassanio, 
 Gratiano, Nerissa, Portia, Shylock, and Senators. 
 Por. " Then must the Jew be merciful." 
 
 Shy. " On what compulsion must I, tell me that ?" 
 
 The Pound of Flesh — an admirably invented picture — com- 
 posed with great simplicity, drawn with exquisite correctness, and 
 coloured with great skill. The figures of Portia and Shylock are 
 finely drawn, and well contrasted. She seems just in the act of 
 delivering the celebrated lines on the quality of mercy, whilst the 
 Jew, utterly inattentive to the fine poetry or noble sentiment, seems 
 
26 
 
 already, in imagination, to be carving out the " forfeiture," as it is 
 " nominated in the bond." Anthonio, Bassanio, and Gratiano, form 
 a prominent and effective group, but slightly subordinate to the 
 principal figures ; and the singleness of the whole impression is 
 admirably preserved by the well purported justness, with which a 
 due share of the passion of the scene is imparted to the judgment 
 seat. What, perhaps, gives the picture its highest charm, is the 
 admirable balance preserved through the various groupings. 
 
 No. 31. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 2. — Launcelot and old Gobbo. 
 
 Gob. " Pray you, sir, stand up ; I am sure you are not Launce- 
 
 lot, my boy." 
 
 Laun. " Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give 
 me your blessing." 
 
 Launcelot and old Gobbo, is a rich bit of comedy, and reminds 
 us of the best of our old comic actors. Age drivelling down to 
 second childhood is almost painfully depicted in the doited face 
 and tottering figure of the old man, whilst the younger Gobbo is a 
 perfect personification of droll audacious humour. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 No. 32. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 4. — Romeo, Mercutio, Nurse, Peter, &c. 
 Nurse. " My fan, Peter." 
 Mercu. " Do, good Peter, to hide her face." 
 
 The Nurse's Message is an admirable embodiment of the 
 text. The nurse is indeed " a sail " going full before the wind, 
 thoroughly distent, whilst Peter, the quaint figure with the fan, though 
 wooing all the winds, seems able to collect not half a breeze. 
 There is no mistaking the Nurse : separated from the rest of the 
 story and standing alone, she must be recognized for herself and 
 no other. Romeo and Mercutio make a group apart, and are 
 
27 
 
 executed with great skill ; the easy nonchalance of the latter, as he 
 leans on the shoulder of his sentimental friend, making himself the 
 principal figure in the scene, as by the way he always does in every 
 scene where he exhibits himself during his short existence, is 
 exquisitely felicitous, and as true to the character, as it is happy in 
 the conception. 
 
 No. 33. 
 
 Act v. Scene 3. — The Friar, Juliet and Balthasar. 
 Juliet^ " Oh, comfortable friar, wliere's my lord ? " 
 Friar. " Lady, come from that nest 
 
 " Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep." 
 
 The Tomb of the Capulets is a fine invention, full of passion and 
 poetry. The artist has just caught the moment when " the lady 
 stirs," and never did a sweeter form expand itself to a sense of 
 re-animation. It is a model of youth, and love, and beauty, as 
 yet inperceptive of the dread disclosures so soon to be revealed. 
 The torch 
 
 " That vainly lends its light 
 « To grubbs and eyeless sculls," 
 
 which throws its full gleam upon the figure of Juliet, as, rising upon 
 one arm, she indistinctly recognizes the " comfortable friar," falls 
 also in well- contrived bits of ghastly light upon the upturned face of 
 Romeo. Friar Laurence almost vies with the principal figure, as 
 he seems to exclaim, — 
 
 " A greater power than we can contradict, 
 Has thwarted our intents." 
 
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
 
 No. 34. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 7. — Helena, Widow, and Diana. 
 
 Hel. u Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you V* 
 
 Wid. " At the St. Francis, here beside the port," 
 e 2 
 
28 
 
 Helen Disguised as a Pilgrim, is beautiful exceedingly, and 
 abounds in all the high refinements of the art. It is a charming 
 production, full of soft witchery. The composition is exquisitely 
 sweet; the drawing exceedingly graceful ; and the colouring, in 
 the last degree, delicate, chaste, and harmonious. 
 
 No. 35. 
 
 Act v. Scene 3. — The King, Bertram, Helena, 
 Widow, &c. 
 
 King. " Is't real that I see ?" 
 Hel. " No, my good lord, 
 
 " Tis but the shadow of a wife you see ; 
 
 " The name, and not the thing." 
 Bert. " Both, both ; oh pardon." 
 
 The Denouement, is a fine and first-rate production, in which 
 every excellence of the art strives for the mastery. It completely 
 fills the imagination, leaving nothing to be desired, nothing to be 
 suggested. The invention, grouping, drawing, and colouring are 
 all equally fine, whilst the expression has the intelligence of life in 
 every face and form. There is a noble ingenuousness in the fine 
 face and dignified bearing of Helena, which are eminently impres- 
 sive and captivating, whilst the painter, like the poet, at the same 
 time that he gives the seemingly repentant count " the features of 
 blown youth," throws in an expression which renders it doubtful 
 whether the sudden change in his disposition be real or affected, 
 and prompts the question, has " all ended well ? " 
 
 No. 36. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 1. — Parolles, French Lord's, and 
 Interpreter. 
 
 Lord. " Throco, movonsus, cargo, cargo, cargo." 
 Par. " Oh ! ransom, ransom, do not hide mine eyes." 
 
 Parolles Bound, is a well diversified variety of the rich humour 
 in which Singleton is so excellent. ' There is a world of fun in the 
 
29 
 
 whole attitude, and half-seen features of the captive bully, whilst 
 the suppressed and half stifled laughter of his malicious captors, is 
 absolutely contagious. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 No. 37. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 3. — Proteus, Julia, and Launce. 
 
 Prot. " But she received my dog ?" 
 
 Launce. " No, indeed, she did not : here have I brought him back 
 
 again." 
 Prot. " What, didst thou offer her this from me ?" 
 
 Launce s Dog has great humour, quaintly expressed. The in- 
 dignant surprise of Proteus, at finding his " little jewel" converted 
 into the shag-eared, why cur before him, has much drollery in it ; 
 and Launce hhnself, argufying that the larger dog must, in the 
 most logical sense, be considered the greater present, is inimitably 
 droll. Julia is very sweetly personified. 
 
 No. 38. 
 
 Act v. Scene 4. — Valentine, Proteus, Sylvia, and Julia. 
 Val. " Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch, 
 
 et Thou friend of an ill fashion." 
 
 The Rescue has immense force and action. The whole scene is 
 full of animation, and the figure of Valentine seems moving under 
 the eye, as he rushes to the rescue. There is an admirable cor- 
 respondence between the subject and the manner in which it is 
 treated. 
 
 No. 39. 
 
 Act v. Scene 4. — Julia, Proteus, Valentine, and Sylvia. 
 Prot. " How cam'st thou by this ring ? At my depart 
 
 " I gave this unto Julia." 
 Jul. " And Julia herself did give it me, 
 
 " And Julia herself hath brought it hither." 
 
30 
 
 Julia returning the Ring, is a pleasing and graceful production. 
 The softness and repose contrast sweetly with the hurried action 
 which forms the principal feature of the former picture. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 No. 40. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 4. — Angelo awe? Isabella. 
 Ang. " Believe me, on mine honour, 
 
 " My words express my purpose." 
 Isab. " Ha ! little honour to be much believ'd, 
 
 " And most pernicious purpose." 
 
 The Temptation of Isabella, does not afford much scope for the 
 artist, who, however, has produced out of a not very suggestive sub- 
 ject a most agreeable picture. Reverence for authority, yielding to 
 amazement and disgust at the revolting proposition of the deputy 
 Duke, is finely expressed in the face and attitude of Isabel, as she 
 seems to exclaim, " I will proclaim thee, Angelo," whilst the latter 
 has the confident air of one, who, relying upon the strength of an 
 established reputation for honour and virtue, looks the answer, 
 " Who will believe thee, Isabel ? " 
 
 No. 41. 
 
 Act v. Scene ]. — Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Duke, {as 
 Friar), Provost, Isabella, Mariana, &c. 
 Duke. [To Angelo.'] " Hast thou or word, or wit, impudence, 
 " That yet can do thee office ? " 
 
 The Impostor Unmasked. — This picture is nobly composed, 
 and abounds in varied and forcible expression. There is great 
 loftiness and severity in the face and figure of the Duke, which 
 form an admirable contrast to the confusion of Lucio, who, in 
 unmasking him, looks as if he had uncaged a lion. Angelo's con- 
 fusion is well expressed, and all the other figures are so contrived 
 as to yield proportionate aid to the spirited action of the scene. 
 
31 
 
 No. 42. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 2. — Duke,, as Friar, Elbow, Clown, and 
 Officer. 
 Diike. " Take him to prison, officer." 
 
 J57&. " He must before the deputy, sir, he has given him warn- 
 
 ing." 
 
 Elbow Denouncing the Clown, is another phase of the " write- 
 me-down-an-ass" genus of comic illustrations, of which Singleton's 
 Dogberry is the climax. An almost infinite variety in this species 
 of illustration marks the pencil of the artist, and the skilful distinc- 
 tions of the poet in characters which, at first view, appear nearly 
 without a difference, is nicely discriminated and preserved. 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 No. 43. 
 
 Macbeth, Banquo, Witches, Lady Macbeth, Macduff. 
 
 Macb. " Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more." 
 
 Lady M. " Here's the smell of blood still. All the perfumes of 
 
 Arabia will not sweeten this little hand." 
 Macd. " That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face ; 
 " If thou be'st slain, and with no stroke of mine, 
 " My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still." 
 
 The illustrations of this play are contained in one frieze, and the 
 unity of atmosphere thus produced, has the striking effect of blend- 
 ing the component parts into the aggregate of one terrible action. 
 Macbeth's first interview with the witches is eminently pathetic 
 and sublime, and thrills the spirit of the beholder with a superna- 
 tural awe. Every adjunct aids and heightens the wild solemnity of 
 the scene. Lady Macbeth's dream — if her somnambulism may be 
 so designated — is conceived and executed with great grandeur of 
 imagination. The effect is appalling. The old play-goer is 
 reminded of Siddons, by the face and figure ; but no stage repre- 
 sentation could convey an idea of the terrible gloom in which the 
 
32 
 
 whole is atmosphered. Simple, single, stern, one figure is made to 
 tell the story of a life which has " one spot " that will not e< out." 
 Macduff seeking Macbeth in the fight is equally simple, and almost 
 as powerful in conception and execution. Like the other agents in 
 the drama, he seems to be impelled by necessity, rather than 
 actuated by passion ; and, in the entire compartment, we have 
 clearly expressed the irresistible agency of some overruling power, 
 which gives to the play, notwithstanding its departure from the 
 unities, the fatal character of a Greek tragedy. 
 
 TROILUS AND CRESSLDA. 
 
 No. 44. 
 
 Act v. Scene 3. — Hector, Andromache, Priam, 
 Cassandra, and Troilus. 
 Cas. " Lay hold upon him, Priam ; hold him fast." 
 
 Hec. " iEneas is a-field, 
 
 " And I do stand engaged to many Greeks, 
 " T' appear this morning to them." 
 
 Hector's Departure. — There is a tone of antiquity about this and 
 the other two pictures which illustrate the same play, that imparts 
 the idea of chronological remoteness. The outlining is strong, 
 statuesque, massive, and the whole effect seems to recall the old 
 mythological doctrine of ' ' Destiny, and the Sisters three." The 
 kneeling figure of Andromache, with her sweet upturned face, is a 
 difficult subject, delicately and skilfully handled. The contrast 
 with the martial figure she implores, is finely effected. The wasted 
 form and wild air of Cassandra are conceived in the highest vein of 
 poetry. She appears as if at once inspired by a god, and maddened 
 by a fury — foreknowing and foredoomed. 
 
 No. 45. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 2. — Troilus, Cressida, and Pandarus. 
 Pand. " If ever you prove false to one another, since I have 
 taken such pains to bring you together, let all pitiful goer's- 
 between be called to the world's end after my name." 
 
33 
 
 Pandarus at his calling, is in admirable tone and keeping with 
 the other. The figures of Troilus and Cressida are drawn with the 
 ease and spirit of a careless master hand, making a bold copy from 
 some antique statuary ; whilst the intervening head and form of 
 Pandarus, still preserving the classical cast of the piece, give a 
 complete idea of the name which he is likely to transmit to remotest 
 posterity. 
 
 No. 46. 
 
 Act v. Scene 4.— Hector, Achilles, and Myrmidons. 
 
 Achil. " Ev'n with the vail and darkening of the sun, 
 " To close the day up, Hector's life is done." 
 
 The Death of Hector, is masterly in the design, in the drawing, 
 in the confused grouping, where art, concealing art, has effected an 
 immense triumph. The figures are drawn with a coarse correct- 
 ness, dissimilar to most of Singleton's productions, which gives 
 something of a colossal effect to a grand miniature production. It 
 is just the scene in which one would expect to find that " Hector's 
 life was done." 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 No. 47. 
 Act 11. Scene 2.— Antipholis of Syracuse, Dromio of 
 Syracuse, Adriana, and Luciana. 
 
 A dr. " How comes it now, my husband, oh ! how comes it, 
 
 " That thou art thus estranged from thyself?" 
 Ant. S. " Plead you to me, fair dame ; I know you not." 
 
 The Wife's Mistake. — There is immense comic force in the 
 three paintings which illustrate this play. Antipholis refused 
 admittance to his own house is, perhaps, the best ; but 'tis hard to 
 choose where all is excellent. In the present picture, the surprise 
 of the Syracusan, who is but " two hours old in Ephesus," at find- 
 ing himself accosted as a citizen, a husband, and a head of a house 
 
 F 
 
34 
 
 there, is humourously expressed ; and, coupled with the lady's 
 indignant amazement at her supposed husband's impudent repu- 
 diation of her, is an exquisite bit of serious comedy. 
 
 No. 48. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 1.— Antipholis of Ephesus, Dromio of 
 Ephesus, Angelo, Balthazar, and Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 Ant. JE. " What art thou that keepest me out of the house I owe ?" 
 Dro. S. " The porter for this time, sir, and my name is Dromio." 
 Dro. JE. " O, villain, thou hast stolen both mine office and my 
 name." 
 
 Antipholis shut out. — Nothing can be more spirited than the 
 drawing, the execution and the expression of the principal figure. 
 It is almost tragic in the vehemence of the passion which pervades 
 the whole frame, but comedy still, by a cunning spell, asserts her 
 predominance. Dromio is a broad laugh put into colours, and 
 the figures of Balthazar and Angelo, a little in the back ground, 
 harmonize admirably. 
 
 No. 49. 
 
 Act v. Scene 1. — Duke, Abbess, ^Egeon, Antipholis 
 of Syracuse, Dromio of Syracuse, Antipholis of Ephesus, 
 Dromio of Ephesus, Adriana, Angelo, and the Heads- 
 man. 
 
 Abb. " Speak, old iEgeon, if thou be'st the man 
 
 " That had'st a wife once called ^Emilia, 
 " That bore thee at a burden two fair sons ?" 
 " If I dream not, thou art ^Emilia." 
 
 Errors unravelled, is a mixed piece of great power. The re- 
 cognition of ^Egeon and iEmilia, is full of fine pathos, whilst the 
 humour in the two Dromio's, each beholding himself in the other 
 as in a glass, reminds one of two rough curs commencing a 
 close acquaintance by a snarling introduction. The two Antipholi 
 may well provoke the query, 
 
 " Which is the natural man, and which the spirit? " 
 
35 
 
 Altogether it is an admirable picture of mixed emotion, and skil- 
 fully managed to evolve an intricate plot with considerable success ; 
 a task which Shakespeare himself (if, indeed, the play be his) 
 found no little difficulty in performing. The figures come out in 
 fine and bold relief from the deep clear sky behind. 
 
 HAMLET. 
 No. 50. 
 
 Act i. Scene 4. — Hamlet and Ghost. 
 
 Ham. " Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! 
 
 " Art thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd." 
 
 Hamlet and the Ghost, is a fine effort of imagination. The 
 invention is pure and simple, and there is a skill in the composi- 
 tion so true to the text, that the two worlds — the living and the 
 dead — are brought together without violence or seeming effort. 
 The whole is shrouded, shadowy, and supernatural. The figures 
 seem created out of mist and moonlight, and Hamlet, 
 
 " The unmatched form and features of blown youth>" 
 seems only composed of a thicker atmosphere than that of " the 
 buried majesty " whom he addresses ; and almost as likely to flit 
 away at the warning of " days harbinger." The combination of 
 terror, reverence, and awe, in the kneeling figure of the prince, is 
 a masterpiece of expression which no stage representation can ap- 
 proach, but the picture, notwithstanding, is a noble histrionic 
 study. 
 
 No. 51. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 5. — King, Queen, Laertes, and Ophelia. 
 
 Qph. " There's fennel for you, and columbines ; there's rue for 
 
 u you, and here's some for me." 
 
 Ophelia's madness. — There is a profusion of fine effect in this 
 picture. The dignity of the regal state, even when it seems to totter, 
 is skilfully preserved, and the assertion of the " divinity which doth 
 
 f 2 
 
36 
 
 hedge a king," though made by an usurper, is royally conveyed. 
 The agonized form of Laertes is eminently tragic, and the gentle 
 figure and pensive voice of Ophelia, — for in looking at the picture 
 one thinks he hears her sweet snatches of wild song,— painfully 
 recall her own inimitable description of " a noble mind o'er- 
 thrown," when she assimilates its fitful and incoherent action to 
 " sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh." 
 
 No. 52. 
 
 Act v. Scene 1. — Hamlet, Horatio, and Gravedigger. 
 
 Graved. " This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester." 
 Ham. " Alas ! poor Yorick !" 
 
 Hamlet and the Gravedigger, is a sweet and graceful invention. 
 The notion of pourtraying the Prince leaning on a gravestone, 
 whilst apostrophising the scull of his old favourite, is simple, novel, 
 striking, and true. The scene thus produced upon the stage would 
 be highly effective ; and that such a representation of it has not 
 been hit upon before, is a matter of as much surprise, as that a true 
 adaptation of stage costume did not take place until John Kemble 
 effected the reform. 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 No. 53. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 1. — Hero and Ursula. Beatrice 
 concealed. 
 
 Urs. " So angle we for Beatrice, who e'en now 
 
 " Is couched in the woodbine coverture." 
 
 Beatrice in the Coverture. — An exquisite picture, full of play- 
 ful grace and innocent malice. The arch sensibility of expression 
 in the face of Ursula, and the gusto with which she enjoys the 
 " pleasant angling," completely realise the poet's conception. It 
 is highly spirited, and at the same time inimitably feminine and 
 graceful. 
 
37 
 
 No. 54. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 1. — Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, 
 
 Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and Beatrice. 
 
 Clau. " Farewell, 
 
 " Thou pure impiety, and impious purity ! " 
 Leon. " Hath no man's dagger here a point for me?" 
 
 The Broken Nuptials. — This is in Singleton's happiest style of 
 grouping, whilst the expression throughout is perfect : amazement 
 sits on eveiy brow, and shows in every attitude. The colouring is 
 exquisitely pure and brilliant, exhibiting all the rich display of 
 Rubens. 
 
 No. 55. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 2. — Dogberry, Verges, Conrade, fyc. 
 
 Con. " Away ! you are an ass, you are an ass." 
 
 Dog. " O that he were here to write me down — an ass ! — but, 
 
 "masters, remember that I am an ass, though it be not 
 
 " written down." 
 
 Justice Dogberry. — A hit — a palpable hit. No words can 
 convey the exuberant humour with which the piece abounds. 
 Each figure is a comedy in itself ; but still, amongst them all, 
 the Dogberry stands proudly eminent. He is painted " down an 
 ass" beyond possibility of misconception. 
 
 CORIOLANUS. 
 
 No. 56. 
 
 Act i. Scene 1. — Menenius and Citizens. 
 
 Men. " Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, 
 
 " Will you undo yourselves ?" 
 Cit. " We cannot, sir, we are undone already." 
 
 Menenius addressing the Mutineers. — This is a good picture, 
 and has the genuine rough old Roman smack about it. It is 
 racy and vigorous, carrying the beholder at once into " a street in 
 old Rome," and making him a mingler with her tumultuous 
 citizens. 
 
38 
 
 No. 57. 
 
 Act v. Scene 3. — Coriolanus, Virgilia, Volumnia, &c. 
 
 Cor. " Like a dull actor now, 
 
 " I have forgot my part, and I am out, 
 " Even to a full disgrace." 
 
 The Roman Ladies at the Volscian Camp. — There is noble 
 grouping, as well as imposing contrast in this picture, and both the 
 invention and the expression are fine throughout. The Roman 
 matrons are given with the grave and serene dignity which the 
 history of the period attributes to them. Coriolanus is expressed 
 exactly in accordance with the text quoted above. 
 
 No. 58. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 4. — Coriolanus Disguised and Muffled. 
 
 Cor. " Many an heir 
 
 " Of these fair edifices for my wars 
 " Have I heard groan and drop." 
 
 Coriolanus at Antium, is conceived and executed with great 
 grandeur of imagination ; a history of ingratitude, indignation, and 
 desire for revenge, is told in one single figure. It has all the 
 solidity, steadiness, and simplicity of effect required by heroic 
 subjects. 
 
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 
 
 No. 59. 
 
 Act 11. Scene 5. — Malvolio. 
 
 Mai. " I will smile ; I will do everything that thou wilt have 
 
 " me." 
 
 Malvolio with the Letter, is just such a figure as would provoke 
 obstreperous mirth to "break the sinews -of the plot." "Con- 
 templation of himself makes him a rare turkey cock," as he "jets 
 under his advanced plumes, and puts himself into the trick of 
 
39 
 
 singularity." The expression of the face is intensely ridiculous, 
 and so we conceive it should be. Though some commentators, 
 and some actors — for instance, the late John Kemble, who played 
 the character — understood it in a different light from that in which 
 Singleton has viewed it, we think our artist is fully borne out by 
 the text ; at all events, be the decision of the commentators what 
 it may, Singleton's delineation is conceived and expressed in the 
 richest vein of humour, when he makes Malvolio " smile his face 
 into more lines than are in the new map, with the augmentation of 
 the Indies." 
 
 No. 60. 
 
 Act v. Scene 1. — Viola, Sebastian, Olivia, Duke, &c. 
 
 Vio. " If nothing lets to make us happy both, 
 
 " But this my masculine usurp'd attire, 
 " Do not embrace me, till each circumstance 
 " Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump 
 " That I am Viola." 
 
 The Explanation, is resplendent in beauty : — full of fine forms, 
 each seeming to surpass the other, in simplicity, richness, truth of 
 nature, and airiness of execution. The beautiful astonishment of 
 Olivia, as she gazes on the two Cesarios — the same expression 
 kindling up into natural sympathy, and opening hope in Sebastian 
 and Viola; the mute, but eager surprize of the confounded as- 
 sembly are all admirably and charmingly expressed, and render 
 this one of the class of pictures, " which seen, becomes a part 
 of sight"- — binding itself about the heart, cleaving to the ima- 
 gination, stirring the fancy, and keeping alive the yearnings of 
 passion. The colouring is amazingly bright, clear, pure, and 
 dazzling. 
 
 No. 61. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 3. — Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew 
 
 Aguecheek, and Clown. 
 
 Clown. " Beshrew me, the knight 's in admirable fooling." 
 
40 
 
 Sir Toby in his Cups, is broad, rich, genuine comedy, in her 
 loosest zone, and lowest buskin. Thalia appears to have eased her 
 cincture to afford herself room to laugh. The artist has just 
 seized Sir Toby at the moment when — as the Clown observes : — 
 
 " His eyes do show his day is almost done." 
 
 Wine and wassail have nearly closed them, but they still look as if 
 they could open with a quirk to troll the butt-end of a jolly chorus, 
 or ask, with a drunken leer, whether, because Malvolio is virtuous, 
 there shall be no more cakes and ale. Sir Andrew Aguecheek has 
 just arrived at that degree of inebriety when the support of a boon 
 companion only portends a more certain downfall ; whilst the 
 Clown, imitating the double action of the two stages of drunken- 
 ness, is inimitably grotesque. The whole expression seems satu- 
 rated with the intoxicating juice. 
 
 ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 
 No. 62. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 2. — Caesar, Antony, and Octavia. 
 
 Cces. " Most noble Antony, 
 
 " Let not the piece of virtue, which is set 
 " Betwixt us, and the cement of our love, 
 " To keep it builded, be the ram to batter 
 " The fortress of it." 
 
 Ccesar giving away Octavia. — This is a sweetly impressive 
 picture abounding in classic dignity. The finely developed form 
 of Octavia exhibits the graceful and dignified simplicity of the 
 Roman maid, such as she was, when Vesta's worship was no 
 mockery. Standing between the armed strength of Antony, and 
 the togad majesty of Csesar, she gives a chronological complete- 
 ness to a picture, which wants no date to tell its period. It has 
 the moral atmosphere of old Rome before the empire. 
 
41 
 
 No. 63. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 9. — Antony, Eros, Cleopatra, led by 
 Charmian and Iras. 
 
 Ant. " O whither hast thou led me, Egypt ? see 
 
 " How I convey my shame out of thine eyes, 
 " By looking back on what I've left behind." 
 
 The Meeting of Antony and Cleopatra after the Battle of 
 Actium. — This picture is powerfully drawn and finely painted, 
 forming another of the many instances in which the artist exhibits 
 the vast variety of his invention. The full voluptuous figure of 
 the " rare Egyptian," as she is led droopingly forward by her 
 handmaidens, and the dignified sweetness of her downcast face 
 whilst she looks timidly towards " the noble ruin of her magic," 
 are, even in sorrow, full of bewitching blandishment. The fine 
 Herculean frame of Antony, relaxed almost to abandonment by 
 the memory of his flight, shows that " a Roman thought has struck 
 him" with a terrible sense of degradation — that he, who, 
 
 " With half the bulk, the world play'd as he pleas'd, 
 " To the young man must humble treaties send, 
 " And palter in shifts of lowness." 
 
 The attendant figures are equally effective in sustaining the 
 classic grandeur of the scene. 
 
 No. 64. 
 
 Act v. Scene 2. — Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras. 
 
 Cleo. " Come, mortal wretch, 
 
 " With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate 
 " Of life at once untie." 
 
 The Death of Cleopatra, is another noble effort of art. The 
 face of the Queen, as she " stoops to death but conquers agony," 
 is full of majesty, whilst her reclining figure is fine, ample, regal, 
 desirable — worthy of a hero, a demi-god. 
 
42 
 KING HENRY VIII. 
 
 No. 65. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 2. — The Queen. 
 
 Queen C. " Ev'n now a blessed troop 
 
 " Invites me to a banquet." 
 
 Queen Catherine's Vision. — Queen Catherine is represented 
 as beholding, jnst between asleep and awake, the spirit of the de- 
 parting dream, filled with bright fancies of flitting shapes, which 
 
 " Like an odour rise 
 " To all the senses near, 
 
 " Falling like sleep upon the eyes 
 " Or music on the ear/' 
 
 No. 66. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 4. — The King, the Queen, Wolsey, 
 Campeius, &c. 
 
 Queen. " Lord Cardinal, 
 
 " To you I speak." 
 
 The Trial Scene, possesses immense dignity. The face, form, 
 attitude, and expression of the Queen, exhibit the high historical 
 elevation suitable to the time, the place, and the purpose. The 
 skill of the artist is, however, best shown in distinguishing be- 
 tween the double consciousness of power on the part of the Cardi- 
 nal, and purity on that of the Queen. The scale seems to stand 
 still between the balance of vice and virtue, or if it vibrates, seems 
 to sink in favour of the passionless priest. 
 
 No. 67. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 2. — Wolsey, alone. 
 Wol. " Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye." 
 
 Wolsey, in disgrace, is a moral finely wrought to the eye — a page 
 of the Rambler in outline and colouring. His high-flown pride 
 broken under him, and the " vain pomp and glory of this world" 
 not " hated," but departed. 
 
43 
 
 JULIUS CiESAR. 
 
 No. 68. 
 Act ii. Scene 2. — Cesar and Calphurnia. 
 
 CaL " What mean you, Caesar ? think you to walk forth ? 
 
 " You shall not stir out of your house to-day." 
 
 Calphurnia s Entreaty, is a good picture. The face of Julius 
 is full of resolution, whilst that of Calphurnia is expressive of a 
 love, reverence, sorrow, and solicitation, which only a Caesar could 
 for a moment resist. He seems to ask, 
 
 " What can be avoided, 
 " Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods V 
 
 No. 69. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 1. — C^sar, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, &c. 
 
 Cass. " Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, 
 
 " Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement." 
 
 The Death of Ccesar, is a fine historical record. The figure of 
 Cinna, as he seems to exclaim — 
 
 " Liberty ! Freedom ! Tyranny is dead ! " 
 is lofty, triumphant, and "breathes the spirit of another age ; whilst 
 that of Brutus, hent over the prostrate form of the world's late 
 master, seems yet unrecovered from the cutting rebuke, " Et tu 
 Brute." Notwithstanding the hasty and tumultuous character of 
 the scene, there is a weight and concentration of historic feeling 
 throughout every part ; and the whole has the stunning effect 
 which follows the consummation of some stupendous deed. 
 
 No. 70. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 3. — Brutus and the Apparition. 
 
 Brut. " Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, 
 
 " That mak'st my blood cold, and my hair to stare V* 
 
 The Vision of Brutus, is a sublime conception nobly embodied. 
 In the text, we always considered this slight sketch the finest of 
 Shakespeare's supernatural creations. Its very brevity adds to the 
 
 g 2 
 
44 
 
 vague mysterious terror of the visitation. Singleton has not only 
 caught the poet's notion, hut improved upon it. The undefined 
 horror and incoherent adjuration of Brutus are finely expressed ; 
 whilst the figure of the unearthly visitant reminds us of that in- 
 imitable passage in Job, — 
 
 " Then a spirit passed before my face. The hair of my flesh stood up." 
 " It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image 
 was before mine eyes : there was silence, and I heard a voice," &c. 
 
 KING RICHARD II. 
 
 No. 71. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 4. — Queen, Gardener, and Attendants. 
 
 Queen. "Why dost thou say, King Richard is deposed? 
 " Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth, 
 " Divine his downfall ? " 
 
 Queen Anne s forebodings realized. — This picture, though very 
 simple in the composition, is exceedingly effective. The face and 
 figure of the Queen exhibit the dignity of deep grief, whilst her 
 attendant handmaidens seem to " catch the sorrows that fall from 
 her." The figure of the gardener is admirably drawn, and his 
 humble sympathy in royal suffering nicely discriminated. 
 
 No. 72. 
 Act iv. Scene 1. — Richard, Bolingbroke, Northum- 
 berland, Percy, &c. 
 Mich. " Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown." 
 Richard's Abdication. — This is an admirable picture. There is 
 immense power, weight and dignity in the figure of Bolingbroke. 
 It is strong as a tower, and looks like one of Angelo's massive 
 conceptions, even the very drapery, which envelopes it in piled 
 abundance, has the heavy and substantial effect of some soft 
 solid. The face and figure of Richard painfully depict a man of 
 many sorrows — 
 
 " Whose glories and whose state they might depose, 
 " But not his griefs — he still is king of those." 
 
45 
 
 No. 73. 
 
 Act v. Scene 12. — Richard, Ext on, and Servants. 
 
 Rich. " That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire 
 
 " That staggers thus my person." 
 
 The Death of Richard, is very effective, and the gloomy and 
 sullen light in which it is enacted, is in accordance with the scene. 
 The fallen figure, and upturned face of the slain servant are very 
 natural, whilst the attitude of the king, who has just sent him to 
 " fill another room in hell," reminds us of some of the forcible 
 gestures of the elder Kean. The finest figure, however, in the 
 whole group, is that of Exton. The fierce energy of the action is 
 immensely heightened by the peculiarity of the position. The 
 mace, grasped with furious force, seems just in the act of 
 descending upon the devoted head of the unconscious monarch, and 
 such is the strength with which the whole is executed, that it 
 appears more like the slaughter of some ferocious animal, than the 
 murder of a man. « 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 No. 74. 
 
 Act hi. Scene I. — Prince o/Wales, Duke o/York, 
 Gloucester, Buckingham, Hastings, &c. 
 
 York. " What, will you go unto the Tower, my Lord ?" 
 Prince. " My Lord Protector needs will have it so." 
 
 The Princes going to the Tower, is one of those sweet and gentle 
 pictures which rise in estimation the more they are viewed. The 
 beautiful simplicity and soft melancholy of undefined grief in the 
 faces of the children are admirably expressed, and contrast finely 
 with the passion -marked features of Glo'ster and Buckingham, and 
 the rude countenances of the Halberdiers. 
 
46 
 
 No. 75. 
 
 Act v. Scene 3. — Rtchard on the couch. 
 
 Rich. " Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd, 
 " Came to my tent, and every one did threat 
 " To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard." 
 
 Richard's dream, is grandly conceived and nobly executed. 
 The invention, composition, and colouring, are equally admirable, 
 and the disposition of the lights is managed with great skill. 
 Richard's features writhing with the torture of his agonizing dream, 
 catch a lurid light from a lamp suspended over his couch, and 
 half hidden by the folds of the tent drapery ; one hand is clenched 
 on his sword hilt, whilst the other grasps the arm of tne couch in a 
 hag-ridden effort to rise. Every line of the figure is finely ex- 
 pressive of an agonized but remorseless conscience. The spectral 
 group, which is admirably composed, and seems melting away into 
 thin air, is dimly lighted by the pale gleams of a shrouded moon, 
 which appears to have just struggled to the edge of a heavy mass 
 of dark and surcharged clouds. The whole effect is inimitable ; 
 there are no false adjuncts, no affected conceits. — All is pure, severe, 
 and simple. 
 
 No. 76. 
 
 Act v. Scene 4. — Richmond and Stanley. 
 
 Stan. " Lo, here these long usurped royalties, 
 
 " From the dead temples of this bloody wretch 
 " Have I plucked off, to grace thy brows withal." 
 
 Stanley presenting the Crown. — Graceful and spirited, correctly 
 drawn, and well coloured. 
 
47 
 
 THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 No. 77. 
 
 Falstaff, Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, Dr. Caius, Rugby, 
 Shallow, Sir Hugh Page, Slender, and Anne. 
 
 Falsi. " Divide me like a bride-buck, each a haunch." 
 
 Slender. " Oh ! sweet Anne Page ! " 
 
 Rugby. " Alas, sir, I cannot fence." 
 
 Cains. " Villany ; take your rapier." 
 
 The whole compartment — it is a single one, and well managed, 
 so as to embody all that is most humorous in this inimitable comedy 
 — is, perhaps, the chief gem of a collection prodigal in richness of 
 humour. The middle piece shows the " unwholesome humidity," 
 the man " of continual dissolution and thaw," between the two 
 " pieces of pretty mischief," who, in interchange of arch glances, 
 appear to be asking each other whether, " with the warranty of 
 womanhood, and the witness of a good conscience, they can pursue 
 revenge further." The fat nutation of FalstafF, determining still to 
 carry out his incontinent scheme, is inimitable. It is Singleton, 
 alone, that has given us Falstaff in colours, and " mulcts him out 
 of his fat, drop by drop." Whenever he appears upon the scene, 
 there is no doubt of a colouring in oil. On the right hand, we 
 have Dr. Caius urging Jack Rugby " to take to his weapon ;" and 
 on the left, Shallow, Sir Hugh, and Page, with a bit of humorous 
 flirtation between Master Slender and sweet Anne Page. The 
 
 whole freize is admirably managed. 
 
 FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 
 
 No. 78. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 4. — Plantagenet, Warwick, Somerset, 
 and Suffolk. 
 
 War. " I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet." 
 
 Suf. " I pluck this red rose with young Somerset." 
 
48 
 
 The Choice of the Roses, is an improvement on the text in 
 animation and passion. The scene is forcibly and happily ex- 
 pressed. 
 
 No. 79. 
 
 Act in. Scene 2. — Talbot, Countess, and Porter. 
 
 Tal. * " How say you, Madam, are you now persuaded 
 " That Talbot is but shadow of himself." 
 
 Talbot at Auvergne Castle. — This is a very spirited picture, 
 composed with great strength and firmness. The back ground is 
 admirably filled up with the orderly rush of his 
 " Sinews, arms, and strength." 
 
 No. 80. 
 
 Act v. Scene 4. — Puceile and Fiends. 
 
 Puce. " Now, help, ye charming spells and periapts ; 
 " And ye choice spirits that admonish me, 
 " And give me signs of future accidents." 
 
 Pucelle's Adjuration of the Fiends. — The wizard warrior is 
 admirably conceived and finely drawn. There is a wild mystery 
 in the very colouring ; and yet, holding to Shakespeare, the artist 
 cannot avoid a bit of English satire when he makes Joan look like a 
 a French Bellona, something like the Paix Armee, whom our 
 Gallic neighbours lately en-niched. The sprites, too, are French, 
 and have a Parisian smack about them. In this, however, Single- 
 ton was right; for Shakespeare has, and will have it so. The 
 picture, however, is first rate ; so, too, are some of Poussin's, and 
 he was French. 
 
 PART THIRD OF HENRY VI. 
 
 No. 81. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 2. — King Edward and Lady Grey. 
 King. " What love think'st thou I sue so much to get ?" 
 Lady G. " My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers.' 
 
49 
 
 Lady Greys Petition, is simple, chaste, and graceful. The 
 subject affords no more. 
 
 No. 82. 
 
 Act v. Scene 5. — King, Gloucester, Clarence, Prince 
 of Wales, and Queen. 
 
 Queen. "Oh, Ned, sweet Ned ! speak to thy mother, boy ! 
 " Canst thou not speak ?" 
 
 The Murder of Prince Edward, is a bold and spirited painting, 
 well managed in the grouping, and full of energetic action. 
 
 No. 83. 
 
 Act i. Scene 5. — Clifford and Rutland. 
 
 Rut . " O let me pray before I take my death : 
 
 " To thee I pray — sweet Clifford, pity me !" 
 
 The Death of Rutland. — We like this still better than the 
 picture which precedes it. It has the same boldness and vigour ; 
 but, the singleness of the action, the simplicity of the subject, and 
 the forcible energy expressed in the figure of " black Clifford," 
 give it, in our opinion, the preference. The intense and desperate 
 struggle for life in the youthful victim — half entreaty, half resist- 
 ance, is painfully, but truly pourtrayed. 
 
 PART SECOND HENRY VI. 
 
 No. 84. 
 Act rv. Scene 6. — Jack Cade, and his followers. 
 
 Cade. " Now is Mortimer lord of this city, and here sitting upon 
 London stone." 
 
 Jack Cade, at the London Stone, is strong, vigorous, forcible, 
 and eminently English. The reckless, vulgar, swaggering auda- 
 city has a bottom of bravery in it which wins some respect, and 
 tells us, that under other circumstances, Jack might have been 
 a hero. Singleton's conception is very happy. He presents to 
 
 H 
 
50 
 
 us a head- strong, brawny-brained fellow, exactly calculated to 
 carry such a project as he was engaged in, just to the extent which 
 it reached and no further. 
 
 No. 85. 
 
 Act i. Scene 4. — -Mother Jourdain, Bolingbroke, 
 Southwell, &c. 
 
 M. Jour. " Asmath, by the eternal God, whose name 
 
 " And power thou tremblest at, tell what I ask." 
 
 The Conjuration, is a finely fancied painting, and full of high 
 imagination. The face and attitude of the witch are admirably 
 conceived ; the outstretched arm concealing the greater part of 
 the countenance, leaving only perceptible the wild, inspired, flash- 
 ing eye, has a deep and mystic effect, and the intent earnestness 
 with which Southwell bends over the necromantic volume, makes 
 " trembling take hold of the flesh." The phantom figure is skill- 
 fully managed, and the whole is toned over with 
 
 " Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, 
 
 " The time when screech-owls cry, and ban-dogs howl, 
 
 " And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves." 
 
 No. 86. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 3. — King, Salisbury, Warwick, and the 
 Cardinal. 
 
 Car. <e Bring me unto my trial when you will, 
 
 " "Dy'd he not in his bed ? where should he die ?" 
 
 The Death of Beaufort, is very powerful. Though a fastidious 
 critic might take exception to the determined outlining of the 
 dying cardinal's face, every one must admit that it possesses a 
 terrible grandeur, and the whole effect is appalling. Hopeless, 
 heartless, remorseless unbelief, is struggling and tugging to cling 
 to the earthly existence which alone it acknowledges. The feeble 
 character of the good-natured king, his gentleness and piety, are 
 well expressed. 
 
51 
 FIRST PART HENRY IV. 
 
 No. 87. 
 Act ii. Scene 2. — Prince, Poins, and Falstaff. 
 Prince. u Were't not for laughing, I should pity hirn." 
 Gadshill. — This scene is conceived and executed in a true 
 Shakesperian spirit, when the poet chooses to be more droll than 
 comic. The fallen figure of Falstaff is inimitably grotesque, and 
 the sense of danger and discomfiture in features unused to the 
 exhibition of such emotioD, is given in the richest vein of humour. 
 The figures of Prince Henry and Poins, swelling with repressed 
 mirth, are light, easy, and sprightful. 
 
 No. 88. 
 Act v. Scene 4. — Prince Henry, and Hotspur. 
 
 Hot . " Now Percy, thou art dust, and food for " — 
 
 P. Hen. " Worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well !" 
 
 The death of Hotspur, is a bold and stirring picture. The 
 figure of Prince Henry is full of youthful dignity, grace, and 
 animation, completely realizing the description given of him by Sir 
 Richard Vernon. 
 
 " I saw young Harry — with his beaver on, 
 
 " His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed, — 
 
 " Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury, 
 
 " And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
 
 "As if an angel dropped down from the clouds, 
 
 " To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
 
 " And witch the world with noble horsemanship." 
 
 No. 89. 
 Act ii. Scene 4. — Prince Henry, Falstaff, Poins, 
 Hostess, &c. 
 
 Fal. " This chair shall be my state, this dagger my 
 
 " sceptre, and this cushion my crown." 
 
 Falstaff playing the King, is in every respect a matchless pro- 
 duction. Never was the luxuriant imagination of Shakespeare 
 
 h 2 
 
52 
 
 translated into lines and hues with such happy effect. No words 
 could convey even a faint notion of the extraordinary comic gusto 
 exhibited in the drawing, grouping, and colouring. "The huge 
 hill of flesh," " the bed presser," is made so to engross the whole 
 space, as scarcely to leave room for the other actors in the scene, 
 whilst every gesture, nay, every limb is expressive of the " but, 
 the wit, the humourist, and man of humour, the touchstone and 
 the laughing-stock, the jester and the jest." The easy graceful 
 figure of the prince kneeling in mock gravity, forms the height of 
 comic contrast, whilst the sniggering face of mine hostess as she 
 seems to exclaim, " Oh the father, how he holds his countenance," 
 fills full the measure of humorous effect. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 No. 90. 
 
 Act iv. Scene 1. — Arthur and Hubert. 
 
 Arth. " Will you put out mine eyes ; 
 
 " These eyes that never did, nor never shall, 
 " So much as frown upon you." 
 
 Arthur Pleading to Hubert, is as sweet, as simple, as tender, 
 and as touching as the text, which it illustrates. Seen anywhere, 
 it would tell its own story : — 
 
 " Never saw we figures 
 
 " So likely to report themselves." 
 
 No. 91. 
 
 Act hi. Scene 4. — King Philip, Lewis, Constance, 
 Pandulph, and Attendants. 
 
 Const. " I am not mad : this hair I tear is mine ; 
 
 " My name is Constance, I was Geoffrey's wife; 
 " Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost ! " 
 
 The Despair of Constance, is intensely dramatic. The face 
 and figure of Constance abound in tragic effect. There she and 
 
53 
 
 sorrow sit in a proud grief, her every glance a curse, her very 
 gesture a malediction ; yet, in the highest vehemence of affliction, 
 the artist preserves the intensity of purpose, and decision of 
 character, which form the main features, hy which the poet finally 
 distinguishes his heroine from the other persons of the drama. 
 Philip and Pandulph exhibit a proportionate share of the painful 
 impression depicted, and the high wrought passion of the scene is, 
 with a masterly skill, made to subside insensibly, as it passes 
 through the group behind. 
 
 No. 92. 
 
 Act v. Scene 7. — King John, Prince Henry, Salisbury, 
 
 and Falconbridge. 
 
 K. John. " Within me is a hell, and there the poison 
 " Is as a fiend, confined to tyrannise 
 " On unreprievable, condemned blood." 
 
 The Death of King John. — There is a terrible sublimity in this 
 picture. The double torture of mental agony and corporeal 
 suffering, is displayed with a poet's power, in the shrivelled 
 writhing form of the king, as he entreats of those around him to 
 
 " Bid the winter come, 
 "And thrust his icy finger in his maw, 
 " And comfort him with cold." 
 
 The form, figure, and face of the misbegotten Falconbridge — a 
 creation purely Shakesperian, which had form and pressure long 
 after in the poet Savage, are a study in themselves. 
 
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 No. 93. 
 
 Act ii. Scene 2. — Jacques, in the Forest. 
 
 " As he lay along 
 " Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 " Upon the brook that brawls along this wood.' 
 
54 
 
 Jacques Moralizing by the BrooTc, is effectively sketched, and is 
 finely emblematic of contemplative indolence. There is a rich 
 glow about the picture, as the stray sunbeams struggle for a passage 
 -through the thick warm foliage, which recalls a scene peculiarly 
 calculated for the indulgence of 
 
 " That sweet mood 
 "When pleasant thoughts bring sad thoughts to the mind." 
 
 No. 94. 
 
 Act ii. Scene ii. — Rosalind, Orlando, &c. 
 
 Ros. " Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, 
 
 " That would give more, but that her hand lacks means." 
 
 Rosalind presenting the Chain to Orlando, is a most agreeable 
 picture. The figures of Rosalind and Orlando are well drawn and 
 sweetly expressed, whilst the hale form of Adam in his green old 
 age, shows off — but with no forced or offensive contrast unbecoming 
 a scene where the graceful should predominate — the two shapes of 
 love and beauty, which " must one day be as his own, or cease 
 to be." 
 
 No. 95. 
 
 Act v. Scene 4. — Touchstone and Audrey. 
 
 Touch. " To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey : to-morrow we 
 will be married." 
 
 Touchstone and Audrey. — The very soul of broad comedy, 
 beckoning the approach of farce, who seems just about to enter at 
 the invitation. This is one of Singleton's side-splitting illustrations. 
 Touchstone is the very man, or rather the very touchstone, whilst 
 Audrey's would-be side-long glance, looking up and down, and at 
 the same time straight forward, plainly tells her desire to be 
 "a woman of the world." The very colouring, to say nothing of 
 the drawing and design, is intensely comic. 
 
London : 
 
 J. Truscott, Printer, Nelson Square, and Blackfriars Road.