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prompter's books. Thus, nine in ten at least of those who read the play are not only deprived of the benefit of some of the most excellent passages of the poet, but are shut out from the knowledge that such passages ever had existence. Let the reader judge whether we are correct or otherwise, from the following specimens. Morochius, a prince of Morocco, who is one of Portia's suiters, opens the second act with the following charming speech:

Mor. "Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,

To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love, I swear,
The best regarded virgins of our clime
Have lov'd it too:-I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
Portia. In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice directions of a maiden's eyes:
Besides, the lottery of my destiny

Bars me the right of voluntary choosing,
But, if my father had not scanted me,

And hedg'd me by his will, to yield myself

His wife, who wins me by the means I told you,
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair
As any comer I have look'd on yet,

For my affection.

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Mor. Even for that I thank you;
Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets,
To try my fortune. By this cimiter,-
That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince,
That won three fields of sultan Solyman,-
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look,
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady: but, alas the while!

If Hercules and Lichas play at dice,

Which is the better man? The greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand.
So is Alcides beaten by his page;

And so may I, blind fortune leading me,

Miss that which one unworthier may attain,

And die with grieving.

Since we have entered on the subject of those excisions from the play, we will go on with it, and, by quoting the parts cut out, show how much is lost to the admirers of poetry. Morochius being brought to the caskets, ponders upon the choice he shall make in the following speech:

Some god direct my judgment!-Let me see,

I will survey the inscriptions back again:

What says this leaden casket?

"Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath."
Must give!-For what?-For lead?-Hazard for lead?
This casket threatens: men that hazard all,

Do it in hope of fair advantages;

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;
I'll then nor give, nor hazard aught for lead.

-What says the silver with her virgin hue?

"Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves."
-As much as he deserves!-Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh thy value with an even hand:

If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,

Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady;
And yet to be afeard of my deserving,
Were but a weak disabling of myself.

As much as I deserve!-Why, that's the lady;
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding;
But, more than these, in love I do deserve her:
What if I stray'd no farther, but close here?-
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold.
"Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire."
Why that's the lady; all the world desires her;
From the four corners of the earth they come
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint.
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the wasty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are now as thoroughfares
For princes to come view fair Portia;
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head.
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar

To stop the foreign spirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.

One of these three contains her heavenly picture.

Is't like, that lead contains her?-Twere damnation

To think so base a thought; it were too gross
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or shall I think, in silver she's immured,
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?
O sinful thought!-Never so rich a gem

Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin, that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold; but that's insculp'd upon:
But here an angel, in a golden bed,

Lies all within.Deliver me the key;
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may.

Portia. Here, take it, prince, and if my form lie there,
Then I am yours.

Mor. O hell! what have we here?

A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll!-I'll read the writing.

"All that glitters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told;
Many a man his life hath sold,
But my outside to behold;
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscroll'd:
Fare you well; your suit is cold."

In this speech of Morochius there are some delightful effusions of poetic fancy; and the lines found inscrolled in the casket contain some noble moral truths, which ought not to be lost to the audience. But still superior to these, in the loftiness of the flights and truth of characteristic expression, as well as in sterling moral wisdom, are the speeches of the prince of Arragon, another suiter of the fair Portia. Being conducted by her to the caskets, he opens his observations with the pertinent, unceremonious solemnity of a high Spaniard.

I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things:
First, never to unfold to any one

Which of the caskets 'twas I chose; next, if I fail

Of the right casket, never in my life

To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly,

If I do fail in fortune of my choice,

Immediately to leave you, and begone.

Portia. To these injunctions every one doth swear,

That comes to hazard for my worthless self.

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Arrag. And so have I addrest me:-fortune, now
To my heart's hope!-Gold, silver, and base lead.
"Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath:"
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard.

What says the golden chest?-Ha!-let me see-
"Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire."
What many men desire!-That many may be meant
Of the fool multitude, that choose by show,

Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach;
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desire,
Because I will not jump with common spirits,
And rank me with the barbarous multitude.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house,
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear:
"Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves;"
And well said too: for who shall go about

To cozen fortune, and be honourable,

Without the stamp of merit?-Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.

O that estates, degrees, and offices

-Were not deserv'd corruptly! And that clear honour
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare?

How many be commanded that command?

How much low peasantry would then be gleaned
From the true seed of honour, and how much honour
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times,

To be new-varnish'd?-Well, but to my choice:
"Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves."
I will assume desert; give me a key for this,

And instantly unlock my fortunes here.

Portia. Too long a pause for that which you find here. Arrag. What's here? The portrait of a blinking idiot, Presenting me a schedule?—I will read it.

How much unlike art thou to Portia!

How much unlike my hopes and my deservings!

Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves!

Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?

Is that my prize?-Did I deserve no better?

Portia. To offend and judge are distinct offices, and Of opposed natures.

Arrag. What is this?

"The fire seven times tried this;

Seven times tried that judgment is
That did never choose amiss;
Some there be that shadows kiss,
Such have but a shadow's bliss;
There be fools alive, I wis,
Silver'd o'er, and so was this;
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head:

So begone, sir; you are sped."

The more the nature and importance of these passages are considered, with a view to the author's intention, as well as to the entirety of the drama, the more cause there will appear to wonder at the motives of those who first set the example of disfiguring it, and to condemn the taking of such an injudicious, unwarrantable liberty. It would not be truth to say they are digressive. The play consists of two actions, founded on two separate, remote original stories-that of the bond for the pound of flesh, and that of the caskets, which stories Shakspeare has so conducted as to make them mutually aid each other, but each of which is so constructed as to unfold itself. The characters of the two suiters, Morochius and Arragon, are as necessary to the full development of the casket plot, as Tubal or Launcelot to the accomplishment of the plot of the bond. This appears not only from the chasm which the excision of them makes in the progressive explanation of the story, but from the care and amount of mind bestowed upon them by the poet: for where has he exhibited more studious art, where displayed more captivating or affecting sentiment? In the scenes with those suiters the fable is cleared up in a gradual order calculated to unfold to the audience, in a natural way, the particular provision, in the will of Portia's father, by which she is bound on the subject of marriage. By the two several disappointments of those two suiters, the mind is better prepared for the successful adventure of the third, and the contents of all the caskets are thereby laid open as they should be to the audience. But how is it, as now acted? The story, of itself sufficiently improbable, is rendered more difficult of belief and unintelligible by being left without explanation till Bassanio comes to the caskets; when scraps, taken from the speeches of Morochius and the prince of Arragon, are, through

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