could support _Falstaff_ in such a situation? Not principle; he is not suspected of the Point of honour; he seems indeed fairly to renounce it. “_Honour cannot set a leg or an arm; it has no skill in surgery:—What is it? a word only; meer air. It is insensible to the dead; and detraction will not let __ it live with the living._” What then but a strong natural constitutional Courage, which nothing could extinguish or dismay?—In the following passages the true character of _Falstaff_ as to Courage and Principle is finely touched, and the different colours at once nicely blended and distinguished. “_If Percy be alive, I’ll __PIERCE__ him. If he do come in my way, __SO__:—If he do not, if I come in __HIS__ willingly, let him make a Carbonado of me. I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath; give me life; which if I can save, __SO__; if not, honour comes unlook’d for, and there’s an end._” One cannot say which prevails most here, profligacy or courage; they are both tinged alike by the same humour, and mingled in one common mass; yet when we consider the superior force of _Percy_, as we must presently also that of _Douglas_, we shall be apt, I believe, in our secret heart, to forgive him. These passages are spoken in soliloquy and in battle: If every soliloquy made under similar circumstances were as audible as _Falstaff_’s, the imputation might perhaps be found too general for censure. These are among the passages that have impressed on the world an idea of Cowardice in _Falstaff_;—yet why? He is resolute to take his fate: If _Percy_ do come in his way, _so_;—if not, he will not seek inevitable destruction; he is willing to save his life, but if that cannot be, why,—“honour comes unlook’d for, and there’s an end.” This surely is not the language of Cowardice: It contains neither the Bounce or Whine of the character; he derides, it is true, and seems to renounce that grinning idol of Military zealots, _Honour_. But _Falstaff_ has a kind of Military free-thinker, and has accordingly incurred the obloquy of his condition. He stands upon the ground of natural Courage only and common sense, and has, it seems, too much wit for a hero.—But let me be well understood;—I do not justify _Falstaff_ for renouncing the point of honour; it proceeded doubtless from a general relaxation of mind, and profligacy of temper. Honour is calculated to aid and strengthen natural courage, and lift it up to heroism; but natural courage, which can act as such without honour, is natural courage still; the very quality I wish to maintain to _Falstaff_. And if, without the aid of honour, he can act with firmness, his portion is only the more eminent and distinguished. In such a character, it is to his actions, not his sentiments, that we are to look for conviction. But it may be still further urged in behalf of _Falstaff_, that there may be false honour as well as false religion. It is true; yet even in that case candour obliges