Scene 1. Page 397.

Argosies are properly defined to be "ships of great burthen," and so they are described almost wherever they are mentioned. Mr. Steevens has quoted Rycaut's Maxims of Turkish polity, to show that the term originated in a corruption of Ragosies, i. e. ships of Ragusa. However specious this may appear, it is to be observed that Rycaut, a writer at the end of the seventeenth century, only states it as a matter of report, not as a fact; and he seems to have followed the slight authority of Roberts's Marchant's map of commerce. If any instance shall be produced of the use of such a word as ragosie, the objection must be given up. In the mean time it may be permitted to hazard another opinion, which is, that the word in question derives its origin from the famous ship Argo: and indeed Shakspeare himself appears to have hinted as much; for the story of Jason is twice adverted to in the course of this play. On one of these occasions Gratiano certainly alludes to Antonio's argosie when he says,

Gregory of Tours has more than once made use of Argis to express a ship generally. With respect to Ragozine, it has been contended in a former note, page 89, that this name ought not to have been introduced in the discussion of the present subject.

Mr. Steevens remarks that both ancient and modern editors have hitherto been content to read "burghers on the flood;" and, on the authority of a line in which we have "burghers of a city," he has substituted "burghers of the flood." He might have been less inclined to this new reading, had he recollected that the "signiors and rich burghers on the flood" are the Venetians, who may well be said to live on the sea. It would be difficult to discover who are the signiors and burghers of the flood, unless they be whales and porpoises.

In calling argosies the pageants of the sea, Shakspeare alludes to those enormous machines, in the shapes of castles, dragons, ships, giants, &c., that were drawn about the streets in the ancient shows or pageants, and which often constituted the most important part of them.

Scene 1. Page 399.

Dr. Warburton's note may well be spared in all future editions. If Shakspeare have shown a knowledge of the antique, which he might have obtained from his dictionary at school, the Doctor has, unluckily, on this occasion proved himself less profound in it than Shakspeare, or he would not have ventured to assert that the heads of Janus were those of Pan and Bacchus, Saturn and Apollo, &c. It is presumed that these heads will continue to perplex the learned for many generations.

Scene 2. Page 410.

Notwithstanding the apparent difference in opinion between Messrs. Steevens and Malone respecting this bird, they are both right. The throstle is only a variety of the thrush, as will be seen by consulting Mr. Pennant's Account of English birds. In The new general history of birds, 1745, 12mo, there is an account of "the song-thrush, or throstle;" and see Randle Holme's Academy of armory, book ii. ch. 12, no. lxxiii.

Scene 3. Page 413.

His stage dress should be a scarlet hat lined with black taffeta. This is the manner in which the Jews of Venice were formerly distinguished. See Saint Didier Histoire de Venise. In the year 1581 they wore red caps for distinction's sake, as appears from Hakluyt's Voyages, p. 179, edit. 1589. Lord Verulam, in his Essay on usury, speaking of the witty invectives that men have made against usury, states one of them to be "that usurers should have orange-tawny bonnets, because they do Judaize."

Scene 3. Page 414.

"It is almost incredyble what gaine the Venetians receive by the usury of the Jewes, both pryvately and in common. For in everye citee the Jewes kepe open shops of usurie, taking gaiges of ordinarie for xv in the hundred by the yere; and if at the yeres ende the gaige be not redemed, it is forfeite, or at the least dooen away to a great disadvantage: by reason whereof the Jewes are out of measure wealthie in those parties."—Thomas's Historye of Italye, 1561, 4to, fo. 77.

Scene 3. Page 416.

Fulsome has, doubtless, the same signification as the preceding epithet rank, the physical reason for its application being very generally known. "??t?d?? pellis. Proverbium apud Germanos in vilissimum quodque et maxime foetidum scortum. Nam Ictis, id est sylvestris mustela cum graviter exarserit, male olet." Erasmi Adagia. Spenser makes one of his shepherds speak thus of a kid:

Fulsome is from the Gothic fuls, i. e. foul, foetid. That it sometimes had another root, viz. full, is manifest from the line in Golding's Ovid, whose expression "fulsome dugs" is in the original "pleno ubere," but is of no service on the present occasion, though quoted by Mr. Steevens.

Scene 3. Page 418.

Mr. Steevens asserts that use and usance anciently signified usury, but both his quotations show the contrary. Mr. Ritson very properly asks whether Mr. Steevens is not mistaken; and Mr. Reed, maintaining that he is right, adduces a passage which proves him to be wrong. A gentleman, says Wylson, borrowed 1000 pounds, running still upon usury and double usury. "The merchants termyng it usance and double usance, by a more clenly name," i. e. interest, till he owed the usurer five thousand pounds, &c. The sense was obscured by the omission of an important comma after the word name. Mr. Malone's note was quite adequate to the purpose of explanation.

Scene 3. Page 421.

Thus in the ballad of Gernutus:

ACT II.

Scene 1. Page 423.

Dr. Johnson's observation that "red blood is a traditionary sign of courage" derives support from our English Pliny, Bartholomew Glantville, who says, after Isidorus, "Reed clothes ben layed upon deed men in remembrance of theyr hardynes and boldnes, whyle they were in theyr bloudde." On which his commentator Batman remarks: "It appereth in the time of the Saxons that the manner over their dead was a red cloath, as we now use black. The red of valiauncie, and that was over kings, lords, knights and valyaunt souldiours."

Scene 2. Page 426.

Mr. Steevens calls this absurdity, and introduces a brother critic, Sir Hugh Evans, who had maintained that "he hears with ears" was affectations: both the parties had forgotten their Bible. As to the proposed alteration "withe thy heels," it might be asked, who ever heard of a person binding his own heels to prevent running? Mr. Malone has well defended the consistency of Launcelot's speech. It may be added that in King Richard II. Act V. Scene 3, we have "kneel upon my knees."

Scene 2. Page 427.

It is not improbable that this curious struggle between Launcelot's conscience and the fiend might have been suggested by some well-known story in Shakspeare's time, grafted on the following Monkish fable. It occurs in a collection of apologues that remain only in manuscript, and have been severally ascribed to Hugo of Saint Victor, and Odo de Sheriton or Shirton, an English Cistercian Monk of the 12th century. "Multi sunt sicut mulier delicata et pigra. Talis vero mulier dum jacet mane in lecto et audit pulsari ad missam, cogitat secum quod vadat ad missam. Et cum caro, quÆ pigra est, timet frigus, respondet et dicit, Quare ires ita mane, nonne scis quod clerici pulsant campanas propter oblationes? dormi adhuc; et sic transit pars diei. Postea iterum conscientia pungit eam quod vadat ad missam. Sed caro respondet, et dicit, Quare ires tu tam cito ad ecclesiam? certÈ tu destrueres corpus tuum si ita manÈ surrexeris, et hoc Deus non vult ut homo destruat seipsum; ergo quiesce et dormi. Et transit alia pars diei. Iterum conscientia pungit eam quod vadat ad ecclesiam; sed caro dicit, Ut quid ires tam cito? Ego bene scio quod talis vicina tua nondum vadit ad ecclesiam; dormi parum adhuc. Et sic transit alia pars diei. Postea pungit eam conscientia; sed caro dicit, Non oportet quod adhuc vadas, quia sacerdos est curialis et bene expectabit te; attende et dormi. Et sic dormiendo transit tempus. Et tamen ad ultimum verecundia tacita atque coacta, surgit et vadit ad ecclesiam, et invenit portas clausas." Then follows the moral of the fable, in which the church is repentance, the bells the preachers. The lazy flesh prevails over conscience, till, on the approach of death, fear dictates the sending for the priest. An imperfect confession of sins takes place; the party dies, and the miserable soul finds the gates of heaven shut.

Scene 5. Page 443.

It has been supposed that this term originated from the name of a fool belonging to Cardinal Wolsey, and that his parti-coloured dress was given to him in allusion to his name. The objection to this is, that the motley habit worn by fools is much older than the time of Wolsey. Again, it appears that Patch was an appellation given not to one fool only that belonged to Wolsey. There is an epigram by Heywood, entitled A saying of Patch my Lord Cardinal's foole; but in the epigram itself he is twice called Sexten, which was his real name. In a manuscript life of Wolsey, by his gentleman usher Cavendish, there is a story of another fool belonging to the Cardinal, and presented by him to the King. A marginal note states that "this foole was callid Master Williames, owtherwise called Patch."[12] In Heylin's History of the reformation, mention is made of another fool called Patch, belonging to Elizabeth. But the name is even older than Wolsey's time; for in some household accounts of Henry the Seventh, there are payments to a fool who is named Pechie, and Packye. It seems therefore more probable on the whole that fools were nick-named Patch from their dress; unless there happen to be a nearer affinity to the Italian pazzo, a word that has all the appearance of a descent from fatuus. This was the opinion of Mr. Tyrwhitt in a note on A midsummer night's dream, Act III. Scene 2. But although in the above instance, as well as in a multitude of others, a patch denotes a fool or simpleton, and, by corruption, a clown, it seems to have been occasionally used in the sense of any low or mean person. Thus in the passage in A midsummer night's dream just referred to, Puck calls Bottom and his companions a crew of patches, rude mechanicals, certainly not meaning to compare them to pampered and sleek buffoons. Whether in this sense the term have a simple reference to that class of people whose clothes might be pieced or patched with rags; or whether it is derived from the Saxon verb pÆcan, to deceive by false appearances, as suggested by the acute and ingenious author of The diversions of Purley, must be left to the reader's own discernment.

Scene 7. Page 450.

To insculp, as Mr. Steevens has observed, means to engrave, but is here put in opposition to it, and simply denotes to carve in relief. The angel on the coin was raised; on the casket indented. The word insculp was however formerly used with great latitude of meaning. Shakspeare might have caught it from the casket story in the Gesta Romanorum, where it is rightly used: "the third vessell was made of lead, and thereupon was insculpt this posey, &c."

Scene 7. Page 450.

The old editions read gilded timber; and however specious the alteration in the text, on the ground of redundancy of measure or defect in grammar, it might have been dispensed with. To infold is to inwrap or contain any thing; and therefore, unless we conclude that do is an error of the press for doth, we must adopt the other sense, however ungrammatically expressed, and suppose the sentiment to be, that timber though fenced or protected with gilding in still liable to the worm's invasion. The lines cited by Mr. Steevens from the Arcadia supports the original reading, as do the following from Silvester's Works, edit. 1633, p. 649:

Scene 8. Page 453.

Dr. Johnson suspects a corruption. Mr. Langton would place a comma after mind. The expression seems equivalent to a loving or affectionate mind, a mind made up of love.

Scene 9. Page 458.

This idea suggests the story of a Jew apothecary, who, to ridicule the Mayersbachs of his time, placed in the front of his shop the figure of a grinning fool holding out an urinal. See Pancirollus De rebus deperditis, lib. ii. tit. 1.

ACT III.

Scene 1. Page 465.

If the reason last assigned in Mr. Steevens's note for the value which Shylock professes for the turquoise be entitled to any preference, the information whereon it rests must be referred to the right owner, who is Anselm de Boot, Nicols being only the translator of his work.

Scene 2. Page 469.

That the swan uttered musical sounds at the approach of death was credited by Plato, Chrysippus, Aristotle, Euripides, Philostratus, Cicero, Seneca, and Martial. Pliny, Ælian, and AthenÆus, among the ancients, and Sir Thomas More, among the moderns, treat this opinion as a vulgar error. Luther believed in it. See his Colloquia, par. 2, p. 125, edit. 1571, 8vo. Our countryman Bartholomew Glantville thus mentions the singing of the swan: "And whan she shal dye and that a fether is pyght in the brayn, then she syngethe, as Ambrose sayth," De propr. rer. 1. xii. c. 11. Monsieur Morin has written a dissertation on this subject in vol. v. of the Mem. de l'acad. des inscript. There are likewise some curious remarks on it in Weston's Specimens of the conformity of the European languages with the Oriental, p. 135; in Seelen Miscellanea, tom. i. 298; and in Pinkerton's Recollections of Paris, ii. 336.

Scene 2. Page 472.

The greatest part of the current coin being of silver, this metal is here emphatically called the common drudge in the more frequent transactions among men.

Scene 2. Page 472.

However elegant this emendation by Dr. Warburton, it must yield to the decisive reasoning of Dr. Farmer and Mr. Malone, in favour of paleness, which ought to have been adopted in the text.

Scene 2. Page 474.

A further illustration occurs in the beginning of Lilie's dedication to his Euphues, "Parasius drawing the counterfeit of Hellen, made the attire of her head loose." In Littelton's English and Latin dictionary, we have "A counterfeit of a picture, ectypum."

Scene 2. Page 480.

The meaning is "Antonio with his argosie is not the successful Jason; we are the persons who have won the fleece." See the note in p. 153.

Scene 2. Page 480.

This word occasionally signified grave, as in the present instance. In Withall's Shorte dictionarie, 1599, 4to, fo. 105, we have "sadde, grave, constant,—gravis." So in Twelfth night, when Malvolio is under confinement, he says, "I am no more mad than you are; make the trial of it in any constant question."

ACT IV.

Scene 1. Page 501.

We have here one of the too frequent instances of conjectural readings; but it is to be hoped that all future editors will restore the original woollen, after weighing not only what has been already urged in its support, but the additional and accurate testimony of Dr. Leyden, who in his edition of The complaynt of Scotland, p. 149, informs us that the Lowland bagpipe commonly had the bag or sack covered with woollen cloth of a green colour, a practice which, he adds, prevailed in the northern counties of England.

Scene 1. Page 506.

This incident occurs in the ballad of Gernutus, whence there is reason to suppose it was borrowed. In 1597 was acted at Cambridge a Latin play called Machiavellus, in which there is a Jew, but very unlike Shylock. He is a shrewd intriguing fellow of considerable humour, who, to obtain possession of a girl, puts a number of tricks on the Machiavel of the piece, and generally outwits him. In one scene he overhears his rival despairing of success with the father of his mistress, and expressing a wish that he had some instrument wherewith to put an end to his misery. On this he lays a knife in his way, but first takes care to whet it. To The merchant of Venice or to Gernutus the Latin play was indebted. If to the former, then Shakspeare's play must have been acted before 1597; if to the latter, it strengthens the above conjecture that he borrowed from the ballad. Should Gosson's Jew shown at the Bull ever make its appearance, all would be set right.

Scene 1. Page 507.

Is not this a very common misprint for lay'dst, where the preterite is intended?

Scene 1. Page 509.

This beautiful sentiment accords very much with the following speech made by Sir James Melvil to the queen of Scots, and printed in his Memoirs, p. 149, edit. 1752, 8vo. These, however, were not published till a considerable time after his death. "For as princes are called divine persons, so no prince can pretend to this title, but he who draws near the nature of God by godliness and good government, being slow to vengeance, and ready to forgive."

Scene 1. Page 518.

We had already had an English trial by jury at Vienna. See p. 78. Here we have one at Venice.

ACT V.

Scene 1. Page 523.

On this passage Mr. Steevens founds an argument that Shakspeare was no reader of the classics. It is true that no classical authority for the above circumstance relating to Dido can be found, and that other instances of our poet's errors in classical matters might be adduced; but this will not prove his ignorance of Greek and Roman writers. On the contrary, do not the numerous quotations from them in the notes of his commentators afford sufficient testimony that he had read many ancient authors through the medium of English translations? If this had not been the case, to what end has the useful and interesting list of such translations been drawn up and published by the above learned critic? Wherever Shakspeare met with the image in question, it has reference to the popular superstitions relating to the willow, which will be more fully illustrated in some remarks on a passage in Othello.

Scene 1. Page 529.

This is spoken of young colts, but the speech is only a poetical amplification of a phrase that seems more properly to belong to deer. In the Noble arte of venerie or hunting, ascribed to Turbervile, the author or translator, speaking of the hart, says, "when he stayeth to looke at any thing, then he standeth at gaze;" and again, "he loveth to hear instruments and assureth himselfe when he heareth a flute or any other sweete noyse. He marvelleth at all things, and taketh pleasure to gaze at them." See likewise Holland's translation of Pliny, tom. i. p. 213.

Scene 1. Page 530.

Had the sentiments in the note on this passage been expressed by Dr. Johnson, disorganized as he was for the enjoyment of music, it would not have been matter to wonder at: but that such a man as Mr. Steevens, whose ordinary speech was melody, and whose correct and elegant ear for poetical concord is so frequently manifested in the course of his Shakspearean labours, should have shown himself a very Timon in music, can only be accounted for by supposing that he regarded the speech in question as a libel on his great colleague's organization. He has here assumed a task, which Dr. Johnson would for obvious reasons have declined; and with the feeble aid of an illiberal passage from Lord Chesterfield's Letters, has most disingenuously endeavoured to cast an odium on a science which from its intimate and natural connexion with poetry and painting, deserves the highest attention and respect. He that is happily qualified to appreciate the better parts of music, will never seek them in the society so emphatically reprobated by the noble lord, nor altogether in the way he recommends. He will not lend an ear to the vulgarity and tumultuous roar of the tavern catch, or the delusive sounds of martial clangour; but he will enjoy this heavenly gift, this exquisite and soul-delighting sensation, in the temples of his God, or in the peaceful circles of domestic happiness: he will pursue the blessings and advantages of it with ardour, and turn aside from its abuses.

The quotation which Mr. Steevens has given from Peacham, is in reality an encomium on music as practised in the time of Shakspeare. It indicates that gentlemen then associated with their equals only in the pursuit of this innocent recreation; and the same writer would have furnished many other observations that tend to place the science of music in an amiable, or at least in a harmless point of view. Mr. Steevens might have also recollected that Cicero has called it "Stabilem thesaurum, qui mores instituit, componitque, ac mollit irarum ardores." It will be readily conceded that Shakspeare has overcharged the speech before us, and that it by no means follows that a man who is unmusical must be a traitor, a Machiavel, a robber; or that he is deserving of no confidence. This, however, is all that should have occupied the commentator's notice; and herein his castigation would have been really meritorious. The Italians too have a proverb that is equally reprehensible: "Whom God loves not, that man loves not music." Let such extravagancies be consigned to the censure they deserve!

Scene 1. Page 542.

This word being nothing more than a contraction of interrogatory, should be elliptically printed, inter'gatory.

THE CLOWN.

There is not a single circumstance through the whole of this play which constitutes Lancelot an allowed fool or jester; and yet there is some reason for supposing that Shakspeare intended him as such, from his being called a patch, a fool of Hagar's offspring, and in one place the fool. It is not reasonable, however, to conclude that a person like Shylock would entertain a domestic of this description; and it is possible that the foregoing terms may be merely designed as synonymous with the appellation of clown, as in Love's labour's lost. On the whole, we have here a proof that Shakspeare has not observed that nice discrimination of character in his clowns for which some have given him credit.

ON THE SOURCES FROM WHICH THE STORY OF THIS PLAY HAS BEEN DERIVED.

The present subject, notwithstanding it has been already discussed with considerable labour and ingenuity, may still be said to rest in much obscurity. This has partly arisen from some confusion in the mode of stating the information conveyed in the several notes wherein it has been discussed. To render this position the more intelligible, it will be necessary to say a few words on each commentator's opinion: and first on that of Dr. Farmer. He states that the story was taken from an old translation of the Gesta Romanorum, first printed by Wynkyn de Worde; and that Shakspeare has closely copied some of the language. The Doctor's use of the word story is not consistent with his usual accuracy, because, in what follows, he speaks only of the incident of the caskets, which forms in reality but a part of the story. It is much to be wished, for reasons which will hereafter appear, that Dr. Farmer had been more particular in his account of the edition of the Gesta Romanorum which he says was printed by Wynkyn de Worde, none such having, after much inquiry, been discovered; and it is to be feared that he had trusted to a previous statement of his friend the accomplished and elegant historian of English poetry, whose accuracy is unhappily known to have been by no means commensurate with his taste. The Doctor's assertion, that Shakspeare "closely copied some of the language," cannot be maintained until it be first ascertained if any use had been made of the Gesta Romanorum by the author of the old play of the Jew, mentioned by Gosson, and also in what particulars Shakspeare followed him. It is proper to take notice in this place of the mistake that has been committed by those who speak of Shakspeare's imitations of the sources of this play, and who forget that one on the same subject had already appeared, and which might have furnished him with the whole of the plot. It is however probable that he improved it by means of other novels, as will be seen hereafter.

The next critic to be noticed is the truly learned and judicious Mr. Tyrwhitt. He informs us that the two principal incidents of this play occur in the Gesta Romanorum, and produces some extracts from a Latin manuscript of that work in the British museum. Admitting that the incident of the caskets might have been taken from the English Gesta Romanorum, as mentioned by Dr. Farmer, he cautiously gives it as his opinion that both the stories in the Gesta Romanorum quoted by himself are the remote originals of Shakspeare's play; for he had also forgotten the elder drama mentioned by Gosson. He thinks, however, that the bond story might have come to Shakspeare from the Pecorone, but suspects on the whole that he followed some hitherto unknown novelist, who had saved him the trouble of working up the two stories into one. Aware also that Shakspeare's small acquaintance with the Latin language would scarcely enable him to consult the manuscript Gesta Romanorum, he has very properly used the expression remote originals; and the rather, because he had probably examined the printed English editions without finding the story of the bond, which would hardly have escaped the diligent researches of Dr. Farmer, had it really been there. The fact however is, that the bond story did exist in English long before Shakspeare's time, and it is extremely probable that the original author of the Jew used some English Gesta Romanorum for the whole of his plot. There is more stress to be laid on this opinion so far as it regards the original dramatist, because it seems most probable that Shakspeare, on account of the closer resemblance of the story in the Pecorone to his incident of the bond, had, with great advantage, made use of some translation of it now irrecoverably lost. For this reason, with all due respect for Mr. Tyrwhitt's opinion, it is improbable that Shakspeare followed some unknown novelist who had saved him the trouble of working up the two stories into one; unless it be conceded that such person was the author of the elder play.

The last opinion to be noticed is that of Dr. Johnson; and he remarks that the modern translator of the Pecorone thought the incident of the caskets was borrowed from Boccaccio. This shall be examined presently. The Doctor thinks, however, that Shakspeare had some other novel in view, a conjecture which Mr. Malone very properly supports by a reference to Dr. Farmer's note.

In offering some additional observations on the stories that are connected with the Merchant of Venice, it will be necessary, for the purpose of avoiding confusion, to speak separately of the two main incidents on which that play is constructed.

STORY OF THE CASKETS.

The novel of Boccaccio that has been cited on this occasion, together with some other tales that resemble it, have, it is conceived, no manner of connexion with the play. The curious reader will find one of these stories, and perhaps the most ancient of them, in the lives of Barlaam and Josaphat, as related in the Golden legend, though compiled at a period much anterior to that amusing work. Another is in Gower's Confessio amantis, fo. 96, edit. 1532; and a third in the same work, fo. 96, verso. The latter has been related in a more ample and ingenious manner in the Cento novelle antiche, nov. 65.

In chap. 109 of the Latin printed copy of the Gesta Romanorum, a very different work from that referred to by Dr. Farmer and Mr. Tyrwhitt, there is the following story: A smith had lost a chest of money, which being carried by the sea to the shores of a distant country, was taken up by an inn-keeper, who, not suspecting that it contained any thing, threw it carelessly aside. Having occasion one day for some fuel to warm his guests, he broke up the chest, and finding the money, laid it by safely, till some one should arrive to claim it. The smith soon afterwards appeared; and having publicly declared his loss, the inn-keeper resolved to ascertain if it were the will of Providence that he should make restitution. He therefore caused three pasties to be made; the first he filled with earth, the second with dead men's bones, and the third with money. He then invited the smith to dinner, and gave him the choice of the pasties. The smith fixed on those with the earth and bones, and relinquished the other. The host now concluded that it was not the will of Heaven that he should restore the money; he therefore called in the blind and the lame, opened the other pasty in their presence, and divided the treasure between them.

But the work to which the play stands immediately indebted, is a Gesta Romanorum in English, never printed in Latin, and of which the earliest edition that could be procured on the present occasion was printed by Thomas Est, in 1595, 12mo, and several times afterwards. The latter part only of the 32nd history has been used. This has already been given in English by Dr. Farmer, and in Latin by Mr. Tyrwhitt. It has undoubtedly furnished the author of the play with the incident of the caskets; but he has transposed the mottoes of the gold and silver ones, and substituted another for that of lead.

THE BOND STORY.

The character of Leti as an historian warrants an opinion that his story is a mere fabrication, grafted on one of those that he had met with on the same subject. The tale itself is most probably of Eastern origin. Besides that given by Mr. Malone from Ensign Munro's manuscript, a similar one is related in Gladwin's Persian Moonshee, story 13; and another likewise from an oriental source, in the British magazine for 1800, page 159.

In Tyron, Recueil de plusieures plaisantes nouvelles, &c., Anvers, 1590, 18mo, a Christian borrows 500 ducats of a Jew at Constantinople, on condition of paying two ounces of flesh for usury. At the expiration of the term the Christian refuses to pay more than the principal. The matter is brought before the Emperor Solyman, who orders a razor to be brought, and admonishes the Jew not to cut off more or less than the two ounces on pain of death. The Jew gives up the point. The same story occurs in Roger Bontemps en belle humeur; in the Tresor des recreations, Douay, 1625, 18mo, p. 27; in DoctÆ nugÆ Gaudensij Jocosi, 1713, 12mo, p. 23; in the Courier facetieux, Lyon, 1650, 8vo, p. 109; in the Chasse ennuy, Paris, 1645, 18mo, p. 49; in Corrozet Divers propos memorables, &c., 1557, 12mo, p. 77, of which work there is an English translation under the title of Memorable conceits of divers noble and famous personages of Christendome, &c., 1602, 24mo; in Apophthegmes, ou La recreation de la jeunesse, p. 155. It agrees also with the story related by Gracian in his Hero. See Steevens's Shakspeare, V. 515.

It has been imitated by Antony Munday in his AstrÆpho, being the third part of Zelauto, or The fountaine of fame, 1580, 4to. This writer had found it in Silvayn's Orator, which, as we have already seen, he translated. Instead of the cutting off a pound of flesh, it is agreed that one of the party's eyes shall be pulled out. Besides the ballad of Gernutus the Jew of Venice, printed in Dr. Percy's Reliques, there is another less ancient, under the title of The cruel Jew's garland, in which the story is varied, and with some ingenuity.

A part of the novel in the Pecorone is most likely of Oriental origin, and might have been transmitted to Ser Giovanni from the same source that supplied Boccaccio and many of the French minstrels with their stories, viz. the crusades.

As the Bond Story in the Gesta Romanorum is not known to exist at present in any printed edition, though it might in Shakspeare's time, and as the Latin original mentioned by Mr. Tyrwhitt has never been printed, it is therefore offered to the reader's notice, and will afford besides an interesting specimen of ancient English. It occurs in a manuscript preserved in the Harleian collection, No. 7333, written in the reign of Henry the Sixth. The language is of the same period.

"Selestinus reignid a wyse emperoure in Rome, and he had a faire dowter; and in his tyme ther was a kny?te that lovid this dowter, but he thowte in himselfe that he dud al in veyne, for he thou?t as forsothe that the emperoure wolde not late him to have hir, for he was unworthi therto; nevertheles he thought yf he myght be any wey have love of the damiselle it were inowe to me. He yede ofte tyme to the damisell and aspied hir wille; and she said to him ayene that he travaylid al in veyne, for trowist thow, quod she, with thi deseyvable of faire wordes to begile me? Nay sir, be my soule, hit shal not be so. Thenne saide the kni?te, What shal I yeve to the and late me lye by the a nyght? Not thowh thou woldest yeve me an C marke of florens, quod she, thou shalt not lye by me a nyght. Then hit shal be as thou wilte, quod he. What dude he but purveyde him of so muche mony, s. an C. marke of floreyns, and yaf hir. Whenne nyght come the kni?te enterid into the bed of the mayde, and anoon he was aslepe, and she dude of hir harnes, and come and laye downe by him. So the kni?te laye slepynge al the nyght. On the morow she ros, and did on hir clothis, and wishe hir hondes. And the kni?te awoke of his slepe, and thenne he said, Come hedir to me that I may do my wille with the. Nay, by the helth of my fadir, that wolle I not, quod she; for frende, I do the no wronge. Thow accordiste with me that I shulde lye with the al nyght, and so it is idon; for I lay by the al nyght, and thou sleptest and preferdest me no solace, and therrfore blame thi selfe, and not me. And the kni?te was hevy, and seide, What shal I yeve to the and lete me lygge by the another nyght? As much, quod she, as thou did afor, and no lesse. I assente, seide he. And the kni?te yede and solde alle his movable goodes, and made redy an C. marke of floreynse. But se now a marvelouse case; for right as hit was the furste nyght, so hit was in the secounde. Thenne the kni?te mervaylid mor thanne man may suppose, and hevy he was, and saide, Allas, for now have I spend al my godes withoute spede; and therfore thow I shulle dye therefor I woll make another ende, how moch shall I yeve the, and late us be togeder the thirde nyght, quod the kni?te to the damisell. Sothely, she saide, yf thou have me, as thou paide afore, fiat voluntas tua. I assent, quod he, thou shalte have thin askynge and thi wille. The kni?te yede into fer contree, til he come to a grete citee, in the whiche wer many marchaunts and many philesophers, amonge the wiche was master Virgile the philesopher. Then the kni?te yede to a grete marchaunt, and saide, I have [nede] of monye, and yf thou wolt lende me an C marke unto a certeyne day, I wolle ley to the al my londes undir this conducion that if I holde not my day thow shalt have my londes for evere. Thenne seyde the marchaunt, Der frend, I sette not so muche be thi londes, but yf thow wolt make this covenaunt, that I shal sey to the, I wolle fulfill thi wille. This saide he I am redy to do thi wille, yf thou wolt do my petucion. Thenne, seide he, when this covenaunt is made that I shalle seye unto the, thenne I shalle fulfille thyne askynge; and the covenaunt shalle be this, that thou make to me a charter of thine owne blood, in conducion that yf thowe kepe not thi day of payment, hit shalle be lefulle to me for to draw awey alle the flesh of thi body froo the bone with a sharp swerde, and yf thow wolt assent herto, I shalle fulfille thi wille. The kni?te lovid the damisell so moch that he grauntid al this, and made a charter of his owne bloode, and selid it, and after the selyng this marchaunt toke him the money that he askid. When he had the moneye, he thoute to him selfe, yf I gete my wylle by this moneye, I am but dede; nay, nay, it may not be so. When he harde tell of the grete name of maister Virgile, he yede to him, and seide, Gode sir, I have previ counseill to speke a twene us too, and I beseche yow of your wise counseill in this cas. Sey on, quod Virgile, and I shalle telle the aftir my discrecion. Sir, I love the dowter of the emperoure more than ye wolle trowe, and I accordid with her for a certen sum of money. I have be disceyvid two nyghts in swiche maner; and tolde alle the cas as welle as he coude, and sir nowe I have borowed of a marchaunt so much moneye for the same cas to be fulfillid, and undir this conducion, that yf I holde not my day of payment, hit shalle thenne be lefulle to him to helde of alle the skynne of my body with his swerde, and then I am but dede, and therfor sir, I am com to you to have counsaill and wyt how I may bothe have helpe ayenste swiche a parill, and also to have the love of that lovely lady. Thou hast made a lewde covenaunt, seide Virgile, for as a man bindithe him with his owne wille, right so he shall be servid be lawe of the emperoure; and therefore thou shalt do wysely for to kepe the day of thi payment alle things lefte. And towchinge the damesell I shall yeve the a tale of truthe. Bitwene her shete and her coverlyte of hir bed is a letter of swiche vertu, that whoso ever gothe with hir to bed, he shall anon falle into a dede slepe; and he shalle not wake til time that hit be put awey: and therfor when thou comest to hir bed, seche a twene the shete and the coverlyte, and thow shalt fynde the letter; and when thow hast founde hit caste hit fer from the bedde, and then entre into the bed, for thou shalte not slepe til tyme that thow haste doon thi wille with the damiselle, and that shalle torne to the gret honour and joye. The kni?te toke his leve at Virgile, and thonkid him moche of his hie counseill and yede to the damysell, and yafe hir the monye. When ny?t come the kni?t enterid the chaumber, and preveli putte his honde bitwene the coverlite and the shete, and there he fonde the letter; and whenne he hadde hit he caste hit fer fro the bedde, and lay downe and feynid as he hadde islepte, and thenne the damiselle knowing that he had yslepte as he dude afor, she caste of hir clothis, and went to bedde. Anon the kni?te sette hande to hir as is the maner of bed, and she perceyved that, and prayd him of grace, and to save hir maydinhede, and I shall dobble al the monye that thow hast yevin to me and yeve it to the.... And aftur he lovid hir so muche that he drow so moche to hir compane that he for?ate the marchaunt and the day of payment was passid by the space of xiiii dayes. And as he lay in a certen nyght in his bed, hit come to his mynde the day that he made to the marchaunt, and alle his bowells wer storid therewithe, and thenne said to her, Alas woman that ever I saw the, for I am but dede. I borowed for thi love swiche a some of mony for to pay at a certeyne day bi this conducion, that yf I pay not at my day he shall have full power for to hilde of the fleshe of my body without contradiccion; and now my day is passid fourtenyte ago, so hih I sette myn hert in the. Then seide she, Sorowithe not so moche, gothe to him, and debbelithe the mony to him, and yf he wolle not, aske howe moche he wolle have, and I shalle paye it. Tho was the kni?te comfortid. He yede to the citee, and there he mette with the marchaunt in the stret, and lowly he saluid him. Tho saide the marchaunt, So sey I not to the. Thenne seyde the kni?te, Sir, for the trespas that I have made ayenste youre convencion I wolle dowble the payment. Naye seide the marchaunt, that spake we not of, I wolle have right as thou dudest bynde the to me. Aske of me, quod the knight, as much mony as thou wolte, and thowe shalt be paide for my trespas. It is veyne that thow spekist, quod the marchaunt, for thowhe thou geve to me al the gode of thi citee, I wolle have the covenaunt I holde, and non othere wolle I have of the than as the charter asselid makith mencioun of; and anon he made the kni?t to be itake and lad to the castell, and sette him in a safe ward, abyding the justice. When the juge was come and satte in the dome, the kni?t come to barr among other prisoners, and the marchaunt shewid his lettire afor the juge. Anoon as the juge sawe there his owne dede, he said to alle that stode aboute, Sirs, ye know welle it is the law of the emperour that yf enye man bynde him by his owne freewille he shal resseyve as he servithe, and therefore this marchaunt shalle have covenaunt as lawe wolle. Now in al this tyme the damysell his love had sent kni?ts for to aspie and enquer how the law was pursued ayenst him, and whenne she harde telle that the lawe passid ayenst him, she kytte of al the longe her of hir hede, and cladde hir in precious clothing like to a man, and yede to the palys there as hir lemon was to be demyd, and saluyd the justice, and all they trowid that she had be a kni?te; and the juge enquerid of what contree she was, and what she had to do ther. She said, I am a kni?te, and come of fer contree, and her tithings that there is a kni?te amonge yowe that shuld be demid to dethe for an obligacion that he made to a marchaunt, and therefor I am come to deliver him. Thenne the juge said, It is lawe of the emperoure that who so ever byndethe him with his owne propre wille and consent withoute enye constraynynge he shulde be servid so ayene. When the damisell harde this she turnid to the marchaunt and saide, Der frende, what profite is it to the that this kni?te that stondithe her redy to the dome be slayne? it wer [better] to the to have monye than to have him slayne. Thou spekest al in veyne, quod the marchaunt, for withoute doute I wolle have the lawe sithe he bonde him so frely, and therefor he shalle have noon other grace than lawe wolle, for he come to me, and I not to him. I desirid him not thereto ayenste his wille. Thenne saide she, I praye the howe moche shall I yeve to have my petucion? I shalle yeve the thi monye double, and yf that be not plesynge to the, aske of me what thou wolte, and Thou shalt have. Then saide he, thow harde me never seye but that I wolde have my covenaunte kept. Sothely, seyde she, and thou shalt trowe me afor your [you] sir juge, and afor yowe alle, I sey now sir juge ywithe a right wisdome of that that I shal seye to yowe; ye have ihard howe moche I have proferid this marchaunt for the lyf of this kni?te, and he forsakithe all, and askithe the lawe, and that likith me moche; and therfore lordinges that beye her, herithe me what I shalle seye. Ye knowithe welle that the kni?t bonde him never by letter but that the marchaunt shulde have power to kutte his fleshe fro the boons, but there was no covenaunt made of sheding of blode, thereof was nothing ispoke, and therefor late him set hond on him anoon, and yf he shede ony bloode with his shavinge of the fleshe forsothe then shalle the kynge have goode lawe upon him. And when the marchaunt harde this he said, Yef me my monye, and I foryeve my accion. Fforsothe, quod she, thou shalt not have oo penye, for afor al this companye I proferid to the al that I myght, and thou forsoke hit, and saydist with a lowde wyse, I shalle have my covenaunte; and therfor do thi beste with him, but loke that thow shede no blode I charge the; for it is not thin, ne no covenaunt was thereof. Thenne the marchaunt seynge this yede away confus. And so was the Kni?t's lyf savid, and no penye ipayde. And she yede home ayene, and dude of that clothinge, and clothid hit as she was afor like to a woman. And the kni?te yede home ayene, and the damisell turnid and met him, and askid howe he had ispedde, as thowhe she had not knowen therof. A, lady, quod he, this day was I in poynt to be dede for thy love, but as I was in point to be dampned, there come in sodeynlye a knite, a fair and well ishape, the whiche I saw never afor, and he delivirid me by his exellent wisdom bothe from dethe and eke from payment of moneye. Thenne were thowhe, quod she, unkynde that woldest nat bidde that kni?te to mete, that so faire had savid the. He aunswerde therto, and saide that he come sodeinly and sodenly yede. Thenne seide she, Knowiste thow him if thou seye him? Yee, quod he, right wele. She yede up and cladde hir as she dide afore, and then she yede forthe. And the kni?te knew her thenne wele, and for joye fel doune upon hire, and said, Blessid be thow, and the houre in the whiche I fyrste knew the. And he wepte, and aftir he weddid hir and livid and deyde in the service of God, and yelde to God goode sowlis."

On the whole, then, it is conceived that the outline of the bond story is of Oriental origin;[13] 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 construction 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 contained both the main incidents; and that Shakspeare expanded and improved them, partly from his own genius, 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 residence of the lady at Belmont; the introduction of a 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 have been 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 evidently borrowed; but at the same time it has been most skilfully improved.

The frequent allusions to the different Gesta Romanorum may have excited a wish to be more familiarly acquainted with that singular and interesting work; but as the discussion of the subject in this place would have augmented the tediousness of the note, it has been thought better to make the attempt in a separate dissertation, where it is hoped that any obscurity in the preceding remarks will be removed.

It is much to be lamented that this exquisitely beautiful drama can neither be read nor performed, without exciting in every humane and liberal mind an abhorrence of its professed design to vilify an ancient and respectable, but persecuted, nation. It should be remembered that contempt and intolerance must naturally excite hatred; that to provoke revenge is, in fact, to become responsible for the crimes it may occasion; that to those who would degrade and oppress us, it is but justice to oppose craft; and that nature has supplied even the brute creation with the means of resisting persecution. It will be readily conceded that there happily exist in the present moment but few remains of the illiberal prejudices complained of, the asperity of which has been greatly mitigated by the laudable and successful exertions of a modern dramatic writer, to whom the Jewish people are under the highest obligations.

[12] It may be worth remarking that the historian Stowe has made great use of this curious and valuable Life of Wolsey, without naming the author. It has been several times printed, but the manuscript copies have greatly the advantage in fullness and accuracy.