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And make a pastime of each weary slep,
Till the last step have brought me to my love ;
And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil,
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.”

If Shakspeare indeed had written only this and other passages in the Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, he would almost have de. served Milton's praise of him

And sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child,
Warbles his native wood-notes wild.

But as it is, he deserves rather more praise than this.


Tuis is a play that in spite of the change of manners and of prejudices still holds undisputed possession of the stage. Shak. speare's malignant has outlived Mr. Cumberland's benevolent Jew. In proportion as Shylock has ceased to be a popular bug. bear,“ baited with the rabble's curse," he becomes a half-favor. ite with the philosophical part of the audience, who are dispos. ed to think that Jewish revenge is at least as good as Christian injuries. Shylock is a good hater ; "a man no less sinned against than sinning." If he carries his revenge too far, yet he has strong grounds for “the lodged hate he bars Anthonio, "" which he explains with equal force of eloquence and reason. He seems the depositary of the vengeance of his race; and though the long habit of brooding over daily insults and injuries has crusted over his temper with inveterate misanthropy, and hardened him against the contempt of mankind, this adits but little to the triumphant pretensions of his enemies. There is a strong, quick, and deep sense of justice mixed up with the gall and bitterness of his resentment. The constant apprehenswon of being burnt alive, plunde red, banished, reviled and trampled on, might be supposed to sour the most forbearing nature, and to take something from that “milk of human kindness," with which his persecutors contemplated his indignities. The desire of revenge is almost inseparable from the sense of wrong ; and we can hardly help sympathizing with the proud spirit, hid be neath his " Jewish gaberdine," stung to madness by repeatrd undeserved prosocations, and latoning to throw off the load of obloquy and oppression heaped upon him and all his tribe by one desperate act of “lawful” revenge, till the ferociousness of the means by which he is to execute his purpose, and the perti. nacity with which he adheres to it, turn us against him; but even at last, when disappointed of the sanguinary revenge with which he had glutted his hopes, and exposed to beggary and contempt by the letter of the law on which he had insisted with so little remorse, we pity him and think him hardly dealt with by his judges. In all his answers and retorts upon his adversa. ries, he has the best not only of the argument but of the question, reasoning on their own principles and practice. They are so far from allowing of any measure of equal dealing, of common justice or humanity between themselves and the Jew, that even when they come to ask a favor of him, and Shylock reminds them that “on such a day they spit upon him, another spurned him, another called him dog, and for these courtesies request he'll lend them so much monies”-Anthonio, his old enemy, instead of any acknowledgment of the shrewdness and justice of his remonstrance, which would have been preposterous in a respectable Catholic merchant in those times, threat. ens him with a repetition of the same treatment

“ I am as like to call thee so again,
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.”

After this, the appeal to the Jew's mercy, as if there were any common principle of right and wrong between them, is the rankest hypocrisy, or the blindest prejudice; and the Jew's answer to one of Anthonio's friends, who asks him what his pound of forfeit flesh is good for, is irresistible

“To bait fish withal; if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgrac'd me, and hindered me of half a million, laugh'd at my losses, mock'd at my gains, scorn'd my nation, thwarted my bargains, cool'd my friends, heated mine enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes; hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ; fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer that a Christian is? If yop prick tas, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh ? If you poison us, do we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If


we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility ? revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? why revenge. The villany you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."

The whole of the trial-scene, both before and after the entrance of Portia, is a master-piece of dramatic skill. The legal aculeness, the passionate declamations, the sound maxims of jurispru. dence, the wit and irony interspersed in it, the fluctuations of hope and fear in the different persons, and the completeness and suddenness of the catastrophe, cannot be surpassed. Shylock, who is his own counsel, defends himself well, and is triumphant on all the general topics that are urged against him, and oaly fails through a legal flaw. Take the following as an instance:

" SHYLOCK. What judgment shall I dreal, duing no wrung?
You have among you many a purchas'd slave,
Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules,
You use in abject and in slavish part,
Because you bought them :- shall I say to you,
Let then be free, marry them to your hein ?
Why sweat they under burdens ? let their bude
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates
Be season'd with such viands you will answer,
The slaves are vars :

-o do I answer you :
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him.
Is dearly brought, # thize, and I will have it:
If you deny tne, be upon your law !
There is the fire in the decrees of Venice :
I stand for judgment : answer; stall I have it >

The keenness of his revenge awakes all his faculties; and he beats back all opposition to his purpose, whether grave or gay, whether of wit or argument, with an equal degree of eamestness and self.possession. His character is displayed as distinctly in other less prominent parts of the play, and we may collect from a few sentraces the his!ory of his life-his descent and origin, hus thnft and domestic economy, his attection for his daughter, wbryn he loves next to his wealth, his courtship and his first present to Leah, his wife! " I would no bave parted with it"(the ning which he first gave her) " for a wilderness of monkies !” What a fine Hebraism is implied in this expression !

Portia is not a very great favorite with us; neither are we in love with her maid, Nerissa. Portia has a certain degree of affectation and pedantry about her, which is very unusual in Shakspeare's women, but which perhaps was a proper qualification for the office of a “civil doctor,” which she undertakes and executes so successfully. The speech about Mercy is very well; but there are a thousand finer ones in Shakspeare. We do not ad. mire the scene of the caskets; and object entirely to the Black Prince Morocchius. We should like Jessica better if she had not deceived and robbed her father, and Lorenzo, if he had not mar. ried a Jewess, though he thinks he has a right to wrong a Jew. The dialogue between this newly married couple by moonlight, beginning “ On such a night,” &c., is a collection of classical elegancies. Launcelot, the Jew's man, is an honest fellow. The dilemma in which he describes himself placed between his “con. science and the fiend,” the one of which advises him to run away from his master's service and the other to stay in it, is exquisitely humorous.

Gratiano is a very admirable subordinate character. He is the jester of the piece : yet one speech of his, in his own defence, contains a whole volume of wisdom,

“ ANTHONIO. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,
A stage, where every one must play his part;
And mine a sad one.

GRATIANO. 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,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ?
Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Anthonio-
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 drest in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;

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