Silla to make amends, is, of course, delivered after what you have read: how does Silla receive it? BOURNE. The narrative is continued in the following terms: "Siluio hauing heard this sharpe sentence fell downe on his knees before the Duke crauing for mercie, desiring that he might be suffered to speake with the Lady Iulina apart, promising to satisfie her according to her owne contentation-Well (quoth the Duke) I take thy worde, and therewithall I aduise thee that thou performe thy promise, or otherwise, I protest before God, I will make thee such an example to the world that all traitours shall tremble for feare how they doe seeke the dishonouring of Ladies-But now Iulina had conceiued so great griefe against Siluio, that there was much adoe to persuade her to talk with him; but remembring her owne case, desirous to heare what excuse he could make, in the end she agreed, and being brought into a place seuerally by themselues, Siluio began with a piteous face to say as followeth.-I know not, Madam, of whom I might make complaint, whether of you or of my selfe, which hath conducted and brought vs both into so great aduersitie. I see that you receiue great wrong, and I am condemned against all right; you in perill to abide the bruite of spightfull tongues, and I in danger to loose the thing that I most desire: and although I could alledge many reasons to proue my sayings true, yet I referre my selfe to the experience and bountie of your minde. And here with all loosing his garments of downe to his stomacke and shewed Iulina his breasts and prety teates surmounting farre the whitnesse of snow it selfe, saying: Loe, Madam, beholde here the party whom you haue chalenged to be the father your childe! See I am a woman, the daughter of a noble Duke, who onely for the loue of him, whom you so lightly haue shaken of, haue forsaken my father, abandoned my countrie, and in manner, as you see, am become a seruing man, satisfying myselfe but with the onely sight of my Apolonius: and now, Madam, if my passion were not vehement and my tormentes without comparison, I would wish that my fained griefes might be laughed to scorne, and my dissembled paines to bee rewarded with floutes. But my lo beeing pure, my trauaile continuall, and my griefes endlesse, I trust, Madam, you will not onely excuse me of crime, but also pitty my distresse, the which I protest I would stil haue kept secret if my fortune would so haue permitted." ELLIOT. All this could but increase the miserable perplexity of poor Julina. Such an eclaircissement could scarcely take place on the stage, and this might be one reason why Shakespeare omitted the incident. BOURNE. Besides, it would not perhaps have done, even at that day, to have brought on the stage a lady openly making such a complaint as that of Julina, founded upon her own confession of criminality. MORTON. I have not patience just now to argue any such point, though in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Maids Tragedy," there is even a stranger interview: let it suffice, that Shakespeare has so far deviated from his original. What becomes of the unhappy widow? BOURNE. Rich says, with much simplicity, she "did now thinke her selfe to be in a worse case then euer she was before, for now she knew not whom to challenge to be the father of her child; wherefore when she had told the Duke the verye certainty of the discourse which Siluio had made vnto her, shee departed to her owne house with such griefe and sorrowe, that she purposed neuer to come out of her owne dores again aliue, to be a wonder and mocking stocke to the world." ELLIOT. What says the duke to Silvio, or rather to Silla, now he learns her disguise and the object of it? is it any thing like "And since you call'd me master for so long, BOURNE. The same in effect, but he is a little more high-flown in his phrases, and rapturous in his love: "Oh the branche of al vertue (he exclaims) and the flowre of courtesie it selfe, pardon me I beseech you of all such discourtesies as I ignorantly committed towards you! Desiring you that without farther memorie of auncient griefes you will accept of me, who is more ioyfull and better contented with your presence then if the whole world were at my commaundement." Their happy nuptials are accordingly celebrated at Constantinople with the utmost pomp and solemnity. MORTON. But what had become of the brother, the real Silvio, all this time? These events must have made much noise in Constantinople, and one would think he must have heard of them. BOURNE. Shakespeare manages this part of the story differently. Sebastian only arrives once in Illyria, and that, as it were, by accident, while in order to confirm the claim of Olivia upon Sebastian, he introduces a contract of marriage before a priest. Now Rich, after Silvio's first visit to Constantinople, and after he had left Julina in what family men call a hopefull condition," makes him pursue his travels in search of his lost sister into the interior of Greece, where the report of these strange occurrences reaches him. Returning to Constantinople, he was received by his sister and the duke with the utmost joy. In two or three days, Apolonius informed him of what had passed regarding the Lady Julina; and Silvio, well knowing how the error had arisen, "was stricken with great remorse to make Julina amends, vnderstanding her to be a noble lady," and "left defamed to the world through his default." He accordingly" bewrayed the whole circumstances" to Apolonius, who breaks the matter to the widow, "the and introduces the repentant lover to her as sonne and heyre of a noble Duke, worthy of her estate and dignity." The novel is wound up in the following manner: "Iulina seeing Siluio in place did know very well that he was the father of her childe, and was so rauished with ioy, that she knew not whether she were awake or in some dreame. Siluio imbracing her in his armes, crauing forgiuenesse of all that was past, concluded with her the marriage day, which was presently accomplished with great ioy and contentation to all parties. And then Siluio hauing attained a noble wife, and Silla his sister her desired husband, they passed the residue of their daies with such delight as those that haue accomplished the perfection of their felicities." ELLIOT. And a very pleasant story it is, and judging from such parts as you have read, pleasantly told. BOURNE. The narrative is conducted with regularity and clearness, and the language generally easy and fluent, though disfigured now and then by needless repetitions. MORTON. It is indisputable that Shakespeare was indebted to it for his plot of Twelfth Night. BOURNE. Though he has not followed it very closely indeed, as we have seen, he was in a manner obliged to vary it, in order to render it dramatic; he has not made his incidents quite so consequential upon each other as Rich, and with great art he has VOL. II. M |