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Leo.r. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar Bene. 'Tis no such matter :-Then, you do no ready, (Exit ANTONIO.
love me? D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick: Why, Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. what's the matter,
Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the That you have such a February face,
gentleman. So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage For here's a paper, written in his band,
(her ; bull:
A balting sonnet of his own pure brain,
Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket. When he would play the noble beast in love. Containing her affection unto Benedick.
Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low; Bene. A miracle l here's our own hands against And some such strange bull leap'd your father's our hearts !-Come, I will bave thee ; but by this And got a calf in that same noble feat, [cow, light, I take thee for pity. Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. Beat. I would not deny you ; but, by this good Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked. to save your life, for I was told you were in a
1 yield upon great persuasion ; and, partly, Claud. For this I owe you : bere comes other consumption. reckonings.
Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.Which is the lady I must seize upon ?
(Kissing her. Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her.
D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the mar. Cluud. Why, then she's mine : Sweet, let me
ried man ? see your face.
Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of Leon. No, that you sball not, till you take her wit-crackers cannot fout me out of my bumour : Before this Friar and swear to marry ber. (hand Dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epi.
Claud. Give me your band before this holy gram ? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, I am your hasband, if you like of me. [friar; he shall wear nothing bandsome about him : lo Hero. And when i liv'd, I was your other brief, since I do propose to marry, I will tbink wife :
(Unmasking. nothing to any purpose that the world can say And when you loved, you were my oiher husband. against it; and therefore never fout at me for Claud. Another Hero ?
what I have said against it ; for man is a giddy Hero. Nothing certainer :
thing, and this is my conclusion.-For thy pari, One Hero died defil'd; but I do live,
Claudio, I did think to bave beaten thee : but in Aud, surely as I live, I am a maid.
that thou art like to be my kinsman, live an. D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is bruised, and love my cousin. dead!
Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst harc Leon. She died, my lord, but wbiles her slan. denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee der lived.
out of thy single life, to make thee a double Friar. All this amazement can I qualify;" dealer; which out of question, thou wilt be, it Wheu, after that the holy rites are ended, my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee. I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death :
Bene. Come, come, we are friends ;-let's have Mean time, let wonder seem fainiliar,
a dauce ere we are married, that we may lighten And to the chapel let us presently.
our own hearts, and our wives' beels. Bene. Soft and fair, friar.-Which is Beatrice? Leon. We'll bave dancing afterwards. Beut. I answer to that name ; (Unmasking.) Bene. First, o' my word! therefore, play, What is your will ?
music.Bene. Do not you love me?
Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get tbee a Beat. No, no more than reason.
wife: there is no staff more reverend thau ove Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince, tipped with born.
and Claudio, Have been deceived; for they swore you did.
Enter a MESSENGER. Beat. Do not you love me?
Mess. My lord, your brother Jobn is ta'en in Bene. No, no more than reason.
fight, Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and And brought with armed men back to Messina. Ursula.
Bene. Think not on himn till to-morrow, I'II Are much deceiv'd; for they did swear you did. devise thee brave punishmeuts for bim.-Strike Bene. They swore that you were alınost sick up, pipers.
(Ereunt. Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.
LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. SU (KSPEARE was supposed to have taken the two plots of this admirable play from an Italian novel, and from
a collection of old stories, printed by Wynkin de Worde, under the title of Gesta Romanorum; but as a play comprehending the incidents of both had been exhibited long before he commonced writing for the stage, he probably chose the latter as a model for his own production. It matters not, however, from what source a dramatic author derives his plot, so that he plan it well, and make good use of it afterward; and Johnson says, that in this play “the union of two actions in one event is eminently happy;" excelling eveu Dryden's skilsal conjunction of the two plots in his Spanish Friar, yet the interest of the action can scareely be said to continue beyond the disgrace of Shylock, in the fourth act; since expectation is so strougly fixed upon "justice and the bond," that it ceases to exist after they are satisfied. In the defeat of cunving, and in the triumph of humanity, the most powerful feelings of our nature are successively appealed to: thus anticipation is keenly alive, so long as Antonio's fate is dark and undecided. But with the development of that, the charm is at an end. The power of excitement expires with the object upon which the feelings were centered; and as the lesser passions are susceptible of little delight, when the greater have been subjected to Lry unusual stimulant, the common-place trifles of the concluding act are rather endured with patience, tbar received with gratification. The character of Shylock is no less original, than it is finely finished : "the language, allusions, and ideas (says Henly) are so appropriate to a Jew, that Shylock might be exhibited for an exemplar of that peculiar people;" nor are the other personages unpleasingly drawn or inadequately supported. Of detached passages, Portia's description of the qualities and excellence of mary, may bo selected as one of the noblest attributes with which Genius has ever exalted the excellence of any particular virtue.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. DUKE OF VENICE.
OLD GOBBO, Father to Launcelot.
SALERIO, a Messenger from Venice.
LEONARDO, Servant to Bassanio.
BALTHAZAR, BASSANIO, his Friend.
Servants to Portia.
PRINCE of Morocco; } Suitors to Portia.
SALARINO,} Friends to Antonto and Bassanio. Portia
, a rich Heiress :
LORENZO, in love with Jessica.
NERISSA, her waiting-maid.
Justice, Jailer, Ser ts, and other
SCBNE-partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent.
SCENE I.--Venice.- A Street.
Int. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad ;
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean :
Like signiors and rich burghers of the food,
• Ships of large burthen, probabiy galleons.
Would blow me to an ague when I thought Aod do a wilful stillness entertain,
O my Antonio, I do know of these,
For saying nothing ; wbo, I am very sure, And not betbink me straight of dangerous rocks; If they should speak, would almost damn those Which touching but my gentle vessel's side,
(fools. Would scatter all her spices on the stream; Which, hearing them, would all their brothers, Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ;
I'll tell thee more of this another time : And, in a word, but even now worth this, But fish not, with this melancholy bait, And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion. thought
Come, good Lorenzo :-Fare ye well, a while ; To think on this; and shall I lack the thought, l'll end my exhortation after dinner. + That such a thing, becbanc'd, would make me Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner. sad 3
time : But, tell not me: I know, Antonio
I must be one of these same dumb wise men, Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
For Gratiano never lets me speak. Ant. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune for Gra. Well, keep me company but two years My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, (it,
more, Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own Upon the fortune of this present year :
tongue. Therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad. Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this Salan. Why then you are in love.
gear. Ant. Fie, tie!
Gra. Thanks, i'faith ; for silence only is comSalan. Not in love neither? Then let's say you
(ble. are sad,
In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not rendiBecause you are not merry : and, 'twere as easy
(Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO. For you to laugh, and leap, and say, you are Ant. Is that any thiug now? merry,
(Janus, Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of no. Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed thing, more than any man in all Venice : His Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in ber time : reasons are as two grains of wheat bid in two Some that will evermore peep through their bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you eyes,
find them; and 'wben you bave them they are And laugh, like parrots, at a bagpiper ;
not worth the search. And other of such vinegar aspect,
Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile,
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. That you to-day promis'd to tell me of !
Bass, "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. How much I have disabled mine estate, Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble By something showing a more swelling port kinsman,
Tban my faint means would grant continuance : Gratiano, and Lorenzo : Fare you well;
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd We leave you now with better company.
From such a noble rate; but my chief care Salar. I would have staid till i had made you Is, to coine fairly off from the great debts, merry,
Wherein my time, something too prodigal, If worthier friends bad not prevented me. Hath left me gaged : To you, Aptonio,
Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. I owe the most, in money, and in love; I take it, your own business calls on you,
And from your love I have a warranty And you einbrace the occasion to depart. 'To unburden all my plots and purposes, Salar. Good morrow, my god lords.
How to get clear of all the debts I owe. Bass. Good signiors both, wben sball we laugh? Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know Say, when ?
it ; You grow exceeding strange : Must it be so? And, if it stand, as you yourself still do, Salar. We'll make our leisures to attend on Within the eye of honour, be assur'd, yours.
My purse, my person, my extremest means, (Ereunt SALARINO and SALANIO. Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found Ba In my school days, when I had lost on Antonio,
shaft, We two will leave you : but at dinner time, I shot his fellow of the self-same flight I pray you, have in mind where we nuust meet. The self-same way, with more advised watch, Bass. I will not fail you.
To find the other fortb ; and by advent'ring Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio;
both, You have too much respect upon the world : I oft found both : 1 urg'd this cbildhood proof, They lose it, that do buy it with much care. Because what follows is pure innocence Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth, Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra. That which I owe is lost : but if you please tiano,
To shoot another arrow that self way A stage, where every man must play a part, Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt And mine a sad one.
As I will watch the aim, or to find both, Gra. Let me play the Fool:
Or bring your latter hazard back again, Witb mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; And thankfully rest debtor for the tirst. And let my liver ratber heat with wine,
Ant. You know me well ; and berein spend Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
but time, Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, To wind about my love with circumstance ; Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?
And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong, Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaun. In making question of my uttermost,
dice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,
• Obstinate silence. I love thee, and it is my love that speaks ;
+ This is an allusion to the puritan preachers; who There are a sort of men, whose visages
being generally long and tedious, were obliged to post Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;
pone that part of their sermon culled the exhortalien, till atter dinner.