fested in the last speech only, or perhaps also in the discon nected expression preceding, “To England if you will.” Nature is above art, as Lear says, and a truth now appreciated by science needs not the support of opinion even from so great an
artist as Shakespeare. But perfect art is founded upon science, the science of exact observation at least, and to such a test there can be little doubt that this character was submitted in the
crucible of the poet's great brain, before it was moulded into that form of fierce power and beauty, in which it excites our admiration and awe. The wondrous eloquence of Constance is second to that of no other character except Lear. It would seem that Shakespeare revels in the free swing of fancy, in the repudiation of all mental restraint which half madness justifies. He uses these characters as the motley favourites of old courts were often used, to speak bitter truth without
fear or favour, without hesitation or retention, without pru dential subtraction or self-seeking after thought. The mad men of Shakespeare are his broadest exponents of humanity. In the development of the insanity of Constance, the power of passion finds a potent ally in that of imagination. Imagi nation, that creative faculty which paints in the mind's eye those images which in health may be dismissed at will, but which in disease haunt the oppressed brain with their impor tunate presence. The faculty of forming sensational ideas without the intervention of the external senses, is one which, if
not kept in subjection to a sober judgment, is more perilous to mental health than ought else except unbridled passion. In actual insanity this function runs riot, and the world of reality is supplanted by that of fancy. This idea is most beautifully expressed in Midsummer Night's Dream : Yº. “'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of The. More strange than true. I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
