cut from the flesh of the Christian two ounces, which thou demandest; but take heed thou cut neither more nor less, for if thou dost, thou shalt surely die.' The Jew holding that to be a thing impossible, durst not adventure, but acquitted the Christian of his interest."

We learn from the following lines, in the "Funeral Elegy" upon Richard Burbadge, that Shylock had been one of his famous characters, and it proves besides, as indeed Jordan intimates, that the part was always acted in a red beard.

"Heart-broke Philaster, and Amintas too,

Are lost for ever; with the red-hair'd Jew,

Which sought the bankrupt merchant's pound of flesh,
By woman-lawyer caught in his own mesh 3."

Burbadge died in the spring of 1619, and, we may presume, continued to play Shylock till his decease; but it is remarkable that between that date and 1701, when Lord Lansdowne's alteration was produced at the theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, we never hear of "The Merchant of Venice:" even then it took the name of "The Jew of Venice," and the whole style of the drama was altered by making Shylock a comic instead of a tragic personage. It may be almost doubted, therefore, whether in 1664, when Jordan printed his "Royal Arbor of Loyal Poesie," and in 1674, when "Cambridge Jests" was published, the story of "The Merchant of Venice" was popularly known as a dramatic performance.

"Memoirs of the Principal Actors in the Plays of Shakespeare," printed for the Shakespeare Society in 1846, p. 53.

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

SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont.

1 In the old editions, in 4to. and folio, there is no enumeration of the persons. It was first given by Rowe.

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

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;
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 my 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.

1 There, where your ARGOSIES] "Argosies were large merchant vessels: the word is said by Steevens to be corrupted from Ragosies, or, ships of Ragusa, celebrated for their size and value; but Mr. Douce (Illustr. of Shakesp. i. 248) has more probably derived it from the classical ship Argo.

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 merchandize.

Ant. Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it,
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'.

Ant.

Fie, fie!

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

2 And see my wealthy Andrew DOCK'D in sand,] We must take "Andrew" to be the name of a ship: for "dock'd in sand" all the old editions print "docks in sand." Possibly we might read, "my wealthy Andrew's decks in sand."

3 VAILING her high top] To vail means to bow, to lower, and figuratively to submit. Heywood, in his "Fair Maid of the West," 1631 (not 1613 as quoted by Steevens), speaks of a carvel “vailing her top."

* WHY, then you are in love.] Roberts's 4to. omits "why;" Heyes's 4to. and the folio have it as in our text.

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 stay'd 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 your's.

[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, Gratiano;
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,
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?

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;

5 A stage, where every MAN] The 4to. by Roberts has one for "man."