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MERCHANT OF VENICE.

PRELIMINARY REMARKS.

making some exceptions to his condemnation of drama-
tic performances, mentions among others: The Jew
shown at the Bull, repres ung the greediness of worldly
choosers, and the bloody minds of usurers.-These
plays,' continues he, are good and sweete plays.'
It cannot be doubted that Shakspeare, as in other in-
stances, availed himself of this ancient piece. Mr.
Douce observes, that the author of the old play of The
Jew, and Shakspeare in his Merchant of Venice, have
not confined themselves to one source only in the con-
struction of their plot, but that the Pecorone, the Gesta
Romanorum, and perhaps the old ballad of Gernutus,
have been respectively resorted to. It is however most
probable that the original play was indebted chiefly, if
not altogether, to the Gesta Romanorum, which con-
tained both the main incidents; and that Shakspeare
expanded and improved them, partly from his own ge-
nius, and partly as to the bond from the Pecorone,
where the coincidences are too manifest to leave any
doubt. Thus the scene being laid at Venice; the resi-
dence of the lady at Belmont; the introduction of the
person bound for the principal; the double infraction of
the bond, viz. the taking more or less than a pound of
flesh, and the shedding of blood, together with the after
incident of the ring, are common to the novel and the
play. The whetting of the knife might perhaps be taken
from the ballad of Gernutus. Shakspeare was likewise
indebted to an authority that could not have occurred to
the original author of the play in an English form; this
was Silvayn's Orator, as translated by Munday. From
that work Shylock's reasoning before the senate is evi-
dently borrowed; but at the same time it has been most
skilfully improved.*

"THE Merchant of Venice," says Schlegel, ❝ is one of Shakspeare's most perfect works: popular to an extraordinary degree, and calenlated to produce the most powerful effect on the stage, and at the ame time a wonder of ingenuity and art for the reflecting critic. Shylock, the Jew, is one of the inconceivable masterpieces of characterisation of which Shakspeare alone furnishes us with examples. It is easy for the poet and the player to exhibit a caricature of national sentiments, modes of speaking, and gestures. Shylock, however, is every thing but a common Jew; he possesses a very determinate and original individuality, and yet we perceive a slight touch of Judaism in every thing which he says or does. We imagine we hear a sprinkling of the Jewish pronunciation in the mere written words, as we sometimes still find it in the higher classes, notwithstanding their social refinement. In tranquil situations what is foreign to the European blood and Christian sentiments is less perceivable, but in passion the national stamp appears more strongly marked. All these inimitable niceties the finished art of a great actor can alone properly express. Shylock is a man of information, even a thinker in his own way; he has only not dis covered the region where human feelings dwell: his morality is founded on the disbelief in goodness and magnanimity. The desire of revenging the oppressions and humiliations suffered by his nation is, after avarice, his principal spring of action. His hate is naturally directed chiefly against those Christians who possess truly Christian sentiments: the example of disinterested love of our neighbour seems to him the most unrelenting persecution of the Jews. The letter of the law is his idol; he refuses to lend an ear to the voice of mercy, which speaks to him from the mouth of Portia with heavenly eloquence he insists on severe and inflexible justice, and it at last recoils on his own head. Here he becomes a symbol of the general history of his unfortunate nation. The melancholy and self-neglectful magnanimity of Antonio is affectingly sublime. Like a royal merchant, he is surrounded with a whole train of noble friends. The contrast which this forms to the selfish cruelty of the usurer Shylock, was necessary to redeem the honour of human nature. The judgment scene with which the fourth act is occupied is alone a perfect dra. ma, concentrating in itself the interest of the whole. The knot is now untied, and according to the common idea the curtain might drop. But the poet was unwilling to dismiss his audience with the gloomy impressions which the delivery of Antonio, accomplished with so much difficulty, contrary to all expectation, and the punishment But as many of the incidents in the bond story of the of Shylock, were calculated to leave behind: he has Merchant of Venice have a more striking resem therefore added the fifth act by way of a musical after-blance to the first tale of the fourth day of the Pecorone piece in the play itself. The episode of Jessica, the fu of Ser Giovanni, this part of the plot was most probably gitive daughter of the Jew, in whom Shakspeare has taken immediately from thence. The story may have contrived to throw a disguise of sweetness over the na- been extant in English in Shakspeare's time, though it tional features, and the artifice by which Portia and her has not hitherto been discovered. companion are enabled to rally their newly married husbands supply him with materials."

"The scene opens with the playful prattling of two lovers in a summer moonlight,

'When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees.' It is followed by soft music and a rapturous eulogy on this powerful disposer of the human mind and the world; the principal characters then make their appearance, and after an assumed dissension, which is elegantly carried on, the whole ends with the most exhilarating mirth."

Malone places the date of the composition of this play in 1599, Chalmers supposed it to have been written in 1597, and to this opinion Dr. Drake gives his sanction.

There are two distinct collections under the title of Gesta Romanorum. The one has been frequently printed in Latin, but never in English; there is however a manuscript version, of the reign of Henry the Sixth, among the Harleian MSS. in the British Museum. This collection seems to have originally furnished the story of the bond. The other Gesta has never been printed in Latin, but a portion of it has been several times printed in English. The earliest edition referred to by Warton and Doctor Farmer, is by Wynken de Worde, without date, but of the beginning of the sixteenth century. It was long doubted whether this early edition existed, but it has recently been described in the Retrospective Review. The latter part of the thirty-second history in this collection may have furnished the incidents of the caskets.

The Pecorone was first printed in 1550 (not 1558, as erroneously stated by Mr. Steevens,) but was written almost two centuries before.

After all, unless we could recover the old play of The Jew mentioned by Gosson, it is idle to conjecture how far Shakspeare improved upon the plot of that piece. The various materials which may have contributed to furnish the complicated plot of Shakspeare's play are to be found in the Variorum Editions, and in Mr. Douce's very interesting work.

"The Orator, handling a hundred several Dia. courses, in form of Declamations, &c. written in French It appears, from a passage in Stephen Gosson's School by Alexander Silvayn, and Englished by L. P. (Laza. of Abuse, &c. 1579, that a play comprehending the dis-fus Pyol, i. e. Anthony Munday,) London, Printed by tinct plots of Shakpeare's Merchant of Venice had been exhibited long before he commenced writer. Gosson,

Adam Islip, 1596," Declamation 95. Of a Jew who would for his debt have a pound of flesh of a Christian.'

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TUBAL, a Jew, his Friend.

PORTIA, a rich Heiress.

NERISSA, her Waiting-Maid.

JESSICA, Daughter to Shylock.

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

LAUNCELOT GOBEO, a Clown, Servant to Shylock. SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, OLD GOBBO, Father to Launcelot.

the Seat of Portia, on the Continent.

ACT 1.

SCENE I. Venice. A Street. Enter ANTONIO,
SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Antonio.

IN sooth, I know not why I am so sad;
It wearies me; you say, it wearies you;
But 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. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
There, where your argosies with portly sail,-
Like signiors and rich burghers on 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 iny affections would

Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still
Plucking 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;
Enrobe 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, bechanc'd, would make me sad?
But, tell not me; I know, Antonio

Is sad to think upon his merchandise.

Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy For you, to laugh, and leap, and say, you are merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed

Janus,

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 SALAR. and SALAN.
Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have found
Antonio,

We two will leave you: but, at dinner time,
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, Gratiano A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one.

Gra. Let me play the fool: And let my liver rather heat with wine, With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, heart cool with mortifying groans. Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice

Than my

Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,

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 merchandise makes me not sad.
Salan. Why, then you are in love.
Ant.

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

1 This enumeration of the Dramatis Personæ is by Mr. Rowe.

2 Argosies are large ships either for merchandise or war. The word has been supposed to be derived from the classical ship Argo, as a vessel eminently famous ;

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,

and this seems the more probable from Argis being used for a ship in low Latin.

3 To rail is to lower, to let fall. From the French avaler. 4 i. e. an obstinate silence.

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I'll tell thee more of this another time:
But fish not, with this melancholy bait,
For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.-
Come, good Lorenzo:-Fare ye well, awhile;
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.

Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time:
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
For Gratiano never lets me speak.

Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear.
Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only com-
mendable

And she is fair, and, fairer than that word,
Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes
I did receive fair speechless messages:
Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia.
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth;
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece;
Which makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos' strand,
And many Jasons come in quest of her.
O my Antonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind presages me such thrift,
That I should questionless be fortunate.

Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are at

sea;

Neither have I money, nor commodity
To raise a present sum: therefore go forth,
Try what my credit can in Venice do;
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
Where money is; and I no question make,
To have it of my trust, or for my sake.
SCENE II.
when

In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
[Exeunt GRA. and LOR.
Ant. Is that any thing now?
Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing,
more than any man in all Venice: His reasons are
as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff;
you shall seek all day ere you find them; and,
you have them, they are not worth the search.
Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this same
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of?

Bass. "Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
How much I have disabled mine estate,
By something showing a more swelling port2
Than my faint means would grant continuance :
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd
From such a noble rate; but my chief care
Is, to come fairly off from the great debts,
Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
Hath left me gaged: To you, Antonio,
I owe the most in money, and in love;
And from your love I have a warranty
To unburthen all my plots, and purposes,
How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

[Exeunt.

Belmont. A Room in Portia's
House. Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.
Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is a-
weary of this great world.

Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: And yet, for aught I see, they are as sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing: It is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.

Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. Ner. They would be better if well followed. Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be

Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The

And, if it stand, as you yourself still do,
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd,
My purse, my person, my extremest means,
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions.

Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight3
The selfsame way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth; and, by advent'ring both,
Loft found both: I urge this childhood proof,
Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much: and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe is lost: but if you please
To shoot another arrow that self way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the aim, or to find both,
Or bring your latter hazard back again,
And thankfully rest debtor for the first.

brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps over a cold degree; such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband :--O me, the word choose! I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead father: Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none?

Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men, at their death, have good inspirations; therefore, the lottery, that he hath devised in these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead (whereof who chooses his meaning, chooses you,) will, no doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one who you shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in

Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but your affection towards any of these princely suitors

time,

To wind about my love with circumstance;

And out of doubt, you do me now more wrong,
In making question of my uttermost,
Than if you had made waste of all I have:
Then do but say to me what I should do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak.
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,

1 Gear usually signifies matter, subject, or business in general. It is here, perhaps, a colloquial expression of no very determined import. It occurs again in this play, Act ii. Sc. 2: If Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear."

2 Port is state or equipage. So in the Taming of a Shrew, Act i. Sc. 1.

Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead, Keep house, and port, and servants, as I should.' 3 This method of finding a lost arrow is prescribed by P. Crescentius in his treatise De Agricultura, lib. x.

that are already come?

Por. I pray thee over-name them; and as thou namest them, I will describe them; and, according to my description level at my affection.

Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince." Por. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts, that he

c. xxviii. and is also mentioned in Howel's Letters, vol. i. p. 183, edit. 1655, 12mo.

4 Prest, that is, ready; from the old French word of the same orthography, now pret. 5 Formerly.

6 i. e. superfluity sooner acquires white hairs; becomes old. We still say, how did he come by it?

7 The Neapolitans, in the time of Shakspeare, were eminently skilled in all that belongs to horsemanship.

8 Colt is used for a witless heady gay youngster ; whence the phrase used for an old man too juvenile, that he still retains his colt's tooth.

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX

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