I see the trick on't ;-Here was a consent, (Knowing aforehand of our merriment,) To dash it like a Christmas comedy: Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick Boyet. Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know, No, sir; but it is vara fine, For every one pursents three. Biron. And three times thrice is nine. [is not so: Cest. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope, it You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know: Biron. How much is it? Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will shew whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man,-e'en one poor man; Pompion the great, sir. Biron. Art thou one of the worthies? Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompion the great for mine own part, I know not the degree of the worthy; but I am to stand for him. Biron. Go, bid them prepare. some care. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take [Exit COSTARD. King. Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach. [some policy Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis To have one show worse than the king's and his King. I say, they shall not come. [company. Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er rule you now? That sport best pleases, that doth least know how: Where zeal strives to content, and the contents Die in the zeal of them which it presents, Their form confounded makes most form in mirth; When great things labouring perish in their birth. Biren. A right description of our sport, my lord. royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [ARMADO converses with the KING, and delivers him a paper. Prin. Doth this man serve God? Biron. Why ask you? Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey-mo. narch for, I protest, the school master is exceeding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain; But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement ! [Exit ARMADO, King. Here is like to be a good presence of worthies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Ma chabæus. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, These four will change habits, and present the other five. Biron. There is five in the first show. Biron. The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest the fool, and the boy : Abate a throw at novum ; and the whole world again, Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein, King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain. [Seats brought for the KING, PRINCESS, &c. Pageant of the Nine Worthies. Enter COSTARD arm'd, for POMPEY. Cost. I Pompey am, You lie, you are not he Cost. I Pompey am,· Boyet. With libbard's head on knee. Birom. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee. Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,Dum. The great. Cost. It is great, sir ;-Pompey surnam'd the great; That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat: [chance; And travelling along this coast, I here am come by And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France. [done. If your ladyship would say, Thanks, Pompey, I had Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect: I made a little fault in, great. Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy. Enter NATHANIEL arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander; [ing might: By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquerMy 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander. Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right. [smelling knight. Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tenderPrin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good Alexander. [commander; [sander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander. Biron. Pompey the great, Cost. Your servant, and Costárd. Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away AliCost. O, sir, [to NATH.] you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy his poll-axe sitting on a close stool, will be given to Enter ARMADO. : A-jax he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [NATH. retires. There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, insooth; and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander, alas, you see, how 'tis ;-a little o'erparted :-But there are worthies a coming will speak their mind in some other sort. Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. Enter HOLOFERNES arm'd, for JUDAS; and MOTH Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus: Quoniam, he seemeth in minority; Ergo, I come with this apology. Arm. Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector. Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Exit MOTH. sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: Hol. Judas, I am,— Hol. What is this? Boyet. A cittern head. Dum. The head of a bodkin. Biron. A death's face in a ring. Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer: tenance. Hol. You have put me out of countenance. Biron. For the ass to the Jude ;-give it him :- Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. Enter ARMADO arm'd, for Hector. Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, now be merry. I will King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timbered. Dum. More calf, certain. Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small. Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. when he breath'd, he was a man-But I will forward [BIRON whispers COSTARD. Dum. He may not by the yard. Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,— Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way. Arm. What meanest thou? Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. Årm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die. Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jaquenetta that is quick by him; and hang'd for Pompey that is dead by him. Dum. Most rare Pompey! Boyet Renowned Pompey! Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Biron. Pompey is mov'd :-More Ates, more Ates; stir them on! stir them on! Dum. Hector will challenge him. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than will sup a flea. Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee. Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. Dum. Most resolute Pompey ! Do you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt. Dum. You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge. Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's; and that 'a I wears next his heart, for a favour. Enter MERCADE. Mer. God save you, madam! Prin. Welcome, Mercade ; But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. Mer. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring, Is heavy in my tongue. The king your fatherPrin. Dead for my life. Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Biron. Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Exeunt Worthies. King. How fares your majesty? Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay. Prin. Prepare, I say.-I thank you, gracious lords, For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide, The liberal opposition of our spirits: If over-boldly we have borne ourselves In the converse of breath, your gentleness Was guilty of it.-Farewell, worthy lord! A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue : Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks For my great suit so easily obtain'd. King. The extreme parts of time extremely form All causes to the purpose of his speed; And often, at his very loose, decides That which long process could not arbitrate : And though the mourning brow of progeny Forbid the smiling courtesy of love, The holy suit which fain it would convince; Yet, since love's argument was first on foot, Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it From what it purpos'd; since to wail friends lost, Is not by much so wholesome, profitable, As to rejoice at friends but newly found. Prin. I understand you not; my griefs are double. To those that make us both,-fair ladies, you: Prin. Change not your offer made in heat of blood; Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, For the remembrance of my father's death. King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me? Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury; Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick. Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Kath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and honesty; With three-fold love I wish you all these three. Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? Kath. Not so, my lord;-a twelvemonth and a day I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say: Come when the king doth to my lady come, Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again. Long. What says Maria? Mar. At the twelvemonth's end Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, Prin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of love; That lie within the mercy of your wit: Your favours, the embassadors of love; To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain And, therewithal, to win me, if you please, (Without the which I am not to be won,) You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day Visit the speechless sick, and still converse With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, ; With all the fierce endeavour of your wit, Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Biron. twelvemonth? well, befal what will befal, I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. [To the KING. King. No, madam: we will bring you on your way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy Might well have made our sport a comedy. King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, And then 'twill end. Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,— Prin. Was not that Hector? Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave: I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show. King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so. Enter HOLOFERNES, NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD, and others. This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the In this play, which all the editors have concurred to censure, and some have rejected as unworthy of our poet, it must be confessed that there are many passages mean, childish, and vulgar; and some which ought not to have been exhibited, as we are one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. SONG. Spring. I. When daisies pied, and violets blue, Do paint the meadows with delight, Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, II. When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear, Winter. III. When isicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in pail, Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, IV. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way. [Exeunt. told they were, to a maiden queen. But there are scattered through the whole many sparks of genius; nor is there any play that has more evident marks of the hand of Shakspeare.JOHNSON. MERCHANT OF VENICE. THIS play was entered at Stationers' Hall on the 22d of July, | "Even as the flourish when true subjects bow This passage he supposes to refer to the recent coronation of PERSONS REPRESENTED. DUKE OF VENICE. PRINCE OF MOROCCO, PRINCE OF ARRAGON,Suitors to Portia. ANTONIO, the Merchant of Venice. The principal incidents of the plot are taken from a story in It has been supposed that there was a play on the subject pre- Would blow me to an ague, when I thought SALANIO, SALARINO, GRATIANO, friends to Antonio And see the holy edifice of stone, and Bassanio. LORENZO, in love with Jessica. TUBAL, a Jew, his friend. LAUNCELOT GOBBO, a clown, servant to Shylock. BALTHAZAR, STEPHANO, servants to Portia. PORTIA, a rich heiress. NERISSA, her waiting-maid. "but And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks? 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, Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate Gaoler, Servants, and other Attendants. SCENE,-partly at VENICE, and partly at BELMONT, the Seat of PORTIA, on the Continent. ACT I. SCENE I.-Venice. A Street. And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; Upon the fortune of this present year: Fye, fye! are sad, Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy That they'll not shew their teeth in way of smile, [man, Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO. Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. [Say, when? We two will leave you but, at dinner time, |