RCHANT OF VENICE.

'yle is even and easy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of construcand the serious fixes expectation. The probability of either one or the other on of two actions in one event is in this drama eminently happy. Dryden in connecting the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which yet, I believe, the Johnson.

ad rich burghers of the flood, were, the pageants of the sea,

erpeer the petty traffickers,

NS REPRESENTED.

that cart'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Pincking the grass, to know where sits the wind;
Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.

Salar.
My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
Bat I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Valing her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

And not hethink me straight of dangerous rocks?
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
karobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,

That such a thing, bechanced, would make me sad?
Bat tell not me; I know, Antonio

is sad to think upon his merchandize.

o laugh, and leap, and say, you are

merry,
[Janus,
ause you are not sad. Now, by two-headed
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And other of such vinegar aspect,

That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO.
Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble
kinsman,

Gratiano, and Lorenzo: fare you well;
We leave you now with better company.
Salar. I would have staid till I had made you

merry,

If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.

Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh?
Say, when?

You grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on
yours. [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio.
Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found
Antonio,

We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time,
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
Bass. I will not fail you.

Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it, that do buy it with much care.
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.

Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra-
tiano;

A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.

Gra.
Let me play the fool:
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,

Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?

My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,

Nor to one

place; nor is my whole estate

Upon the fortune of this present year:
Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad.
Salan. Why then you are in love.
Fy, fy!

Ant.

Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad, Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy

Sleep, when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,-
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;-
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle.

ei remitto. Ait puella: Amen dico tibi, nullum denarium habebis-pone ergo manum in eum, ita ut sanguinem non effundas. Mercator vero videns se confusum abscessit: & sic vita militis salvata est, & nullum denarium dedit."

Ista tria ostendit puellæ, & dixit: Si unum ex istis elegeris, in quo commodum & proficuum est, filium meum habebis. Si vero elegeris quod nec tibi nec aliis est commodum, ipsum non hababis." The young lady, after mature consideration of the vessels and their inscriptions, chuses the leaden, which being opened, and found to be full of gold and precious stones, the emperor says: " Bona puella, bene elegisti-ideo filium meum habebis."

From this abstract of these two stories, I think it appears sufficiently plain that they are remote originals of the two incidents in this play. That of the caskets, Shakspeare might take from the English Gesta Romanorum, as Dr. Farmer has observed; and that of the bond might come to

The other incident, of the casket, is in ch. xcix. of the same collection. A king of Apulia sends his daughter to be married to the son of an emperor of Rome. After some adventures (which are nothing to the present purpose), she is brought before the emperor, who says to her: "Puella, propter amorem filii mei multa adversa sustinuisti. Tamen si digna fueris ut uxor ejus sis cito probabo. Et fecit fieri tria vasa. PRIMUM fuit de auro purissimo & lapidibus pretiosis interius ex omni parte, & plenum ossibus mortuorum : & exterius erat sub-him from the Pecorone; but upon the whole scriptio; Qui me elegerit, in me inveniet quod meruit: SECUNDUM vas erat de argento puro & gemmis pretiosis, plenum terrá; & exterius erat subscriptio: Qui me elegerit, in me inveniet quod natura appetit. TERTIUM vas de plumbo plenum lapididus pretiosis interius & gemmis nobilissimis; & exterius erat subscriptio talis: Qui me elegerit, in me inveniet quod Deus dis

ut.

I am rather inclined to suspect, that he has fol lowed some hitherto unknown novelist, who had saved him the trouble of working up the two stories into one. TYRWHITT.

This comedy, I believe, was written in the beginning of the year 1594. Meres's book was not published till the end of that year. MALONE

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

Of the Merchant of Venice the style is even and easy, with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of construction. The comic part raises laughter, and the serious fixes expectation. The probability of either one or the other Kory cannot be maintained. The union of two actions in one event is in this drama eminently happy. Dryden was much pleased with his own address in connecting the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which yet, I believe, the Johnson. critic will find excelled by this play.

DUKE OF VENICE.
PRINCE OF MOROCCO,

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Suitors to Portia.

PRINCE OF ARRAGON,

ANTONIO, the Merchant of Venice.
BASSANIO, his Friend.

SALANIO,

SALARINO,

Friends to Antonio and Bassanio.

GRATIANO,

LORENZO, in Love with Jessica.

SAYLOCK, a Jew.

IBAL, a Jew, his Friend.

LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a Clown, Servant to Shylock.
OLD GOBBO, Father to Launcelot,
SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice.
LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio.
BALTHAZAR, Servants to Portia.
STEPHANO,

PORTIA, a rich Heiress.

NERISSA, her Waiting muid.

JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice,
Goaler, Servants, and other Attendants.

SCENE,-Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-Venice. A Street.

Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me; you say, it wearies you;
Bat how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.

Salar. You mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies with portly sail,-
Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood,
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,-
Do overpeer the petty traffickers,

That curt'sy to them, do them reverence,
As they fly by them with their woven wings.
Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plocking the grass, to know where sits the wind;
Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.

Salar.
My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks?
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
Would scatter all her spices on the stream;
Earobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought
To think on this; and shall I lack the thought,
That such a thing, bechanced, would make me sad?
But tell not me; I know, Antonio

is sad to think upon his merchandize.

For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are

merry,

[Janus,

Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And other of such vinegar aspect,
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.

Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO.
Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble
kinsman,

Gratiano, and Lorenzo: fare you well;
We leave you now with better company.
Salar. I would have staid till I had made you

merry,

If worthier friends had not prevented me.
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard.
I take it, your own business calls on you,
And you embrace the occasion to depart.
Salar. Good morrow, my good lords.

Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh?
Say, when?

Yon grow exceeding strange: must it be so?
Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on
yours. [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio.
Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found
Antonio,

We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time,
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet.
Bass. I will not fail you.

Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio;
You have too much respect upon the world:
They lose it, that do buy it with much care.
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.

Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra-
tiano;

A stage, where every man must play a part,
And mine a sad one.

Gra.
Let me play the fool:
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come;
And let my liver rather heat with wine,
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within,

Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?

My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
pon the fortune of this present year:
Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad.
Salan. Why then you are in love.
Fy, fy!

Ant.

Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, you are sad,

Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy

Sleep, when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,-
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;-
There are a sort of men, whose visages
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;
And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;
As who should say, I am Sir Oracle.