And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs2 hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;

Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,

Vhile greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apoll. You, that way; we, this way. [Exeunt.

(1) Wild apples.

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 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 band of Shakspeare.

JOHNSON.

MERCHANT OF VENICE

PERSONS REPRESENTED

Duke of Venice.

Prince of Morocco,

suitors to Portia.

Antonio, the merchant of Venice.

Bassanio, his friend.

Salanio,

Salarino,

Gratiano,

friends to Antonio and Bassanio,

Lorenzo, in love with Tessica

Shylock, a Jew.

Tubal, a Jew, his friend.

Launcelot Gobbo, a clown, servant to Shylock.

Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot.

Salerio, a messenger from Venice.

Leonardo, servant to Bassanio.

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.

Scene, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the continent.

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

ACT I.

SCENE I-Venice. A street. Enter Antonic 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 of 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.

Salar.

My wind, cooling my broth,

(1) Ships of large burthen.