indifferent. In the avoidance of digressions, too, Lodge's style is an improvement upon that of his predecessors, and even upon that of most of his contemporaries.[4] The story moves along, if not rapidly, at least continuously from start to finish. There is a gratifying lack of such preposterous complications and tortuous windings as we meet with in the plot of Greene's "Menaphon," for example, where it sometimes seems doubtful whether the characters ever will emerge from so mazy a labyrinth of plot, and where the reader is bewildered by the almost complete lack of unity in the story.

[Footnote 1: P. 12.]

[Footnote 2: P. 17.]

[Footnote 3: P. 50. See, also, pp. 19, 41, 51, 59, 73, 97, 104.]

[Footnote 4: On page 72 Lodge accuses himself of digressing; but the four lines in which he here anticipates the conclusion of the story seem not to warrant the charge.]

The Lyrical Interludes. Lodge's spirit is essentially poetical. One feels that his way of looking at things is that of a true poet; of one, that is, who sees beneath the shows of things. Lodge saw as clearly as Shakespeare did that only love can untie the knot that selfishness has tied. And not only is Lodge a poet in his outlook on life, but also in the narrower sense of the word, for he is one of the sweetest singers of all that band of choristers that filled the spacious times of great Elizabeth with sounds that echo still. The voices of some were more resonant or more impassioned; few, if any, were sweeter. Such a song as Rosalynde's Madrigal, beginning,

    Love in my bosom, like a bee
      Doth suck his sweet:

is as fluent, as graceful, and as mellifluous as anything that appeared in that marvelously productive time. Lodge's poetic interludes impress one not only by their easy grace and sweetness, but by their melody as well. They possess that truly lyric quality that Burns's songs exhibit to such a marked degree. They seem to sing themselves. It is almost impossible to read aloud the best of them, such as,

    Like to the clear in highest sphere
    Where all imperial glory shines,
    Of selfsame color is her hair,
    Whether unfolded or in twines:
      Heigh ho, fair Rosalynde!

without setting them unconsciously to a kind of tune, so essentially musical are the lines. In their wonderful harmony these lyrics remind one of Burns, but in the radiant and ethereal quality of their phrasing they inevitably recall Shelley. Furthermore, these songs illustrate the fact that the Elizabethan lyric had its origin in culture, not among the people, and that the chief sources of its inspiration were Italian and French. In a series of lyrics inserted into the text of "A Margarite of America,"[1] Lodge avowedly imitates the Italian poets Dolce, Pascale, and Mantelli, while in another passage in the same book[2] he expresses his unbounded admiration for the French poet Desportes, and his belief "that few men are able to second the sweet conceits of Philippe Desportes." His "sweet conceits" are imitated, we are told, in Montanus's song on page 29, and again in Rosader's Sonnet, on page 62. In his borrowings Lodge merely followed a prevalent fashion. The early English Elizabethan lyric was wholly experimental and imitative—the product of foreign influences, predominantly Italian and French; and in this respect Lodge's are entirely typical.

[Footnote 1: Hunterian Club reprint, pp. 76 ff.]

[Footnote 2: Hunterian Club reprint, p. 79.]

Historical Significance. Historically the book is interesting as one of the predecessors of the modern novel. But we need to keep in mind that it is really a precursor of the novel and not the thing itself. We have no right, therefore, to demand a well-constructed plot or skill in characterization, because these did not appear in English fiction till a much later time. It was two centuries before the novel, in the time of Richardson, came into being; and it would be manifestly absurd to expect to find in "Rosalynde" an anticipation either of Scott's dramatic skill in plot construction or of George Eliot's clairvoyance that divines the interior play of passion. All that we can reasonably ask is that there be a coherent story told with imaginative skill. In this we are not disappointed. The narrative moves rapidly, at least in the earlier part of the story; and, though in the latter part the setting seems from a modern point of view over-emphasized, it is so charmingly idyllic as almost, if not quite, to justify the over-emphasis. But Lodge really gives us more than we have a right to expect, for, as Mr. Gosse has pointed out,[1] we may trace in the book "certain qualities which have always been characteristic of English fiction, a vigorous ideal of conduct, a love of strength and adventure, an almost quixotic reverence for womanhood."

[Footnote 1: "Seventeenth-Century Studies," p. 18.]

Shakespeare's Dramatization of "Rosalynde." When Shakespeare wrote "As You Like It" he did precisely what so many dramatists of to-day are blamed for doing, that is, he dramatized a well-known novel. Lodge's "Rosalynde" was at this time (about 1598) in its third edition, and the fact that the story was so familiar to the reading public imposed upon Shakespeare certain restrictions which he evidently did not feel in dealing with material that he took from sources less well known. In the case of material drawn from foreign sources he freely altered, omitted, or combined different stories as suited the immediate purpose of his art. In the dramatization of Lodge's "Rosalynde" he changed the plot comparatively little, altering it only so far as was absolutely necessary to fit it for stage presentation, contenting himself with shortening the time of the action, omitting such incidents as were essentially nondramatic, and adding only such characters as would, while making the play more interesting, not materially change the already familiar story.

By condensation and omission Shakespeare shortened the time of the action, which is several months in the romance, to about ten days in the play. This he accomplished by omitting all the preliminary narrative of the death of Sir John of Bordeaux, and the old knight's will; and by shortening the time that elapses in the romance between the brother's quarrel and the wrestling, which he makes occur on successive days. A similar shortening occurs in the matter of Rosader's flight from home. In the play the hero, being warned by Adam, leaves immediately after the wrestling, instead of staying to play his part in the rowdyism at Oliver's (Saladyne's) castle. The effect of this compression is to make the love plot more prominent. The meeting of the two brothers in Arden is also managed somewhat differently. Orlando is hurt in rescuing his brother from wild beasts, instead of being wounded, as in the romance, by rescuing Aliena from a band of robbers. The play ends differently from the romance, as befits a comedy, the usurping duke being converted instead of being killed in battle.

It was, however, in the characterization that Shakespeare departed most widely from the romance. The most obvious change was in the names of the characters. Rosader appears as Orlando, Saladyne as Oliver, Torismond as Duke Frederick, Gerismond as the banished Duke, Alinda as Celia, Montanus as Silvius, and Corydon is shortened to Corin. Of much greater significance than the changes in the names of the characters are the additions and changes in the list of dramatis personae. Nine characters are added outright—Dennis, Le Beau, Amiens, the First Lord, Sir Oliver Martext, William, Audrey, Touchstone, and Jaques. The latter is most noteworthy. Hazlitt calls him the only purely contemplative character Shakespeare ever drew. From the