Jurymen were jestingly called godfathers.
law," as Ben Jonson has it.

TRANECT. Act III., Sc. 4.

"Godfathers-in

"Unto the tranect, to the common ferry."

This is the only instance known of the use of the word tranect in English, and yet there is little doubt that the word is correct. Tranare and trainare are interpreted by Florio not only as to draw, which is the common acceptation, but as to pass or swim over. Thus the tranect was most pro

bably the tow-boat of the ferry.

TRUTH. Act IV., Sc. 1.

"That malice bears down truth."

Truth is here used in the sense of honesty.
Act III., Sc. 2.

UNFURNISHED.

"And leave itself unfurnish'd."

Unsurrounded by the other features.

USE. Act IV., Sc. 1.

.

"The other half in use."

In usance, lent on interest.

UPON THE HIP.

Act I., Sc. 3.

"If I can catch him once upon the hip."

Johnson says the expression is taken from the practice of wrestling. In 'Othello' the expression is repeated,—

"I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip."

VAILING. Act I., Sc. 1.

"Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs."

To vail is to let down, to lower. The high-top was shattered, fallen, when the ship was on the shallows.

VENTURES. Act I., Sc. 1.

"My ventures are not in one bottom trusted."

This is, no doubt, a sort of proverbial phrase; a more elegant rendering of the common one as to having "all one's eggs in one basket." In his 'History of Richard III.' Sir Thomas More has-" for what wise merchant adventureth all his goods in one ship?"

WIT. Act II., Sc. 1.

"And hedg'd me by his wit."

Wit is here used in its ancient sense of mental power in general. To wite, from the Anglo-Saxon witan, is to know. YOUNGER. Act II., Sc. 6.

"How like a younger, or a prodigal."

It is the same word as younker or youngling.

PLOT AND CHARACTERS.

WHAT a wonderful universality there is in many of those stories which have taken root in the popular mind. They belong to past centuries and countries far distant; and yet they seem to be contemporary and indigenous. Such is the main story of the pound of flesh, as well as the secondary plot of the caskets. Shakspere has blended these two great features of the play with the most consummate dramatic skill.

It was from an Italian writer, Ser Giovanni, the author of a collection of tales, called 'Il Pecorone,' written in the fourteenth century, and first published at Milan in 1558, that Shakspere unquestionably derived some of the incidents of his story. A full epitome of a scarce translation of the tale, was first given in Johnson's edition of Shakspere, and is reprinted all the variorum editions. In this story we have a rich lady at Belmont, who is to be won upon certain conditions; and she is finally the prize of a young merchant, whose friend, having became surety for him to a Jew, under the same penalty as in the play, is rescued from the forfeiture by the adroitness of the married lady, who is disguised as a lawyer. The pretended judge receives, as in the comedy, her marriage ring as a gratuity, and afterwards banters her husband, in the same way, upon the loss of it.

Some of the stories of 'Il Pecorone,' as indeed of Boccaccio, and other early Italian writers, appear to have been the common property of Europe, derived from some Oriental origin. Mr. Douce has given an extremely curious extract from the English 'Gesta Romanorum,'-"a Manuscript, preserved in the Harleian Collection, No. 7333, written in the reign of Henry the Sixth," in which the daughter of "Selestinus, a wise emperor in Rome," exacts somewhat similar conditions, from a knight who loved her, as the lady in the 'Pecorone.' Being reduced to poverty by a compliance with these conditions, he applies to a merchant to lend him money;

and the loan is granted under the following covenant:"And the covenant shall be this, that thou make to me a charter of thine own blood, in condition that if thou keep not the day of payment, it shall be lawful to me for to draw away all the flesh of thy body from the bone with a sharp sword, and, if thou wilt assent hereto, I shall fulfille thy will." In this ancient story the borrower of the money makes himself subject to the penalty without the intervention of a friend; and, having forgotten the day of payment, is authorised by his wife to give any sum which is demanded. The money is refused by the merchant, and the charter of blood exacted. The story thus continues:- "Now, in all this time, the damsel his love had sent knights for to espy and inquire how the law was pursued against him. And, when she heard tell that the law passed against him, she cut off all the long hair of her head, and clad her in precious clothing like to a man, and went to the palace where her leman was to be judged, and saluted the justice, and all trowed that she had been a knight. And the judge inquired of what country she was, and what she had to do there. She said, I am a knight, and come of far country; and hear tidings that there is a knight among you that should be judged to death, for an obligation that he made to a merchant, and therefore I am come to deliver him. Then the judge said, It is law of the emperor, that whosoever bindeth him with his own proper will and consent without any constraining, he shall be served so again. When the damsel heard this, she turned to the merchant and said, Dear friend, what profit is it to thee that this knight, that standeth here, ready to the doom, be slain? It were better to thee to have money than to have him slain. Thou speakest all in vain, quoth the merchant; for, without doubt, I will have the law, since he bound himself so freely; and therefore he shall have none other grace than law will, for he came to me, and I not to him. I desire him not thereto against his will. Then, said she, I pray thee how much shall I give to have my petition? I shall give thee thy money double; and, if that be not pleasing to thee, ask of me what thou wilt, and thou shalt have. Then said he, Thou heardest me never say but that I would have my covenant kept. Truly, said she; and I say before you, Sir Judge, and

before you all, thou shalt believe me with a right knowledge of that I shall say to you. Ye have heard how much I have proffered this merchant for the life of this knight, and he forsaketh all and asketh for more, and that liketh me much. And therefore, lordings that be here, hear me what I shall say. Ye know well that the knight bound him by letter that the merchant should have power to cut his flesh from the bones, but there was no covenant made of shedding of blood. Thereof was nothing spoken; and, therefore, let him set hand on him anon; and if he shed any blood with his shaving of the flesh, forsooth, then shall the king have good law upon him. And when the merchant heard this, he said, Give me my money, and I forgive my action. Forsooth, quoth she, thou shalt not have one penny, for before all this company I proffered to thee all that I might, and thou forsook it, and saidst loudly, I shall have my covenant; and therefore do thy best with him, but look that thou shed no blood, I charge thee, for it is not thine, and no covenant was thereof. Then the merchant, seeing this, went away confounded; and so was the knight's life saved, and no penny paid."

.....

In Mr. Douce's elaborate treatise upon the most singular collection of ancient stories, the 'Gesta Romanorum,' we have the following analysis of the ninety-ninth chapter of the English 'Gesta;' which, Mr. Douce says, "is obviously the story which supplied the caskets of 'The Merchant of Venice.". "A marriage was proposed between the son of Anselmus, emperor of Rome, and the daughter of the King of Apulia. The young lady in her voyage was shipwrecked and swallowed by a whale. In this situation she contrived to make a fire and to wound the animal with a knife, so that he was driven towards the shore, and slain of an earl named Pirius, who delivered the princess and took her under his protection. On relating her story, she was conveyed to the emperor. In order to prove whether she was worthy to receive the hand of his son, he placed before her three vessels. The first was of gold, and filled with dead men's bones; on it was this inscription-Who chooses me shall find what he deserves.' The second was of silver, filled with earth, and thus inscribed —'Who chooses me shall find what nature covets.' The third vessel was of lead, but filled with precious stones; it had this

inscription- Who chooses me shall find what God hath placed.' The emperor then commanded her to choose one of the vessels, informing her that, if she made choice of that which should profit herself and others, she would obtain his son; if of what should profit neither herself nor others, she would lose him. The princess, after praying to God for assistance, preferred the leaden vessel. The emperor informed her that she had chosen as he wished, and immediately united her with his son."

Thus, then, out of these very ancient legends, and their Italian adaptations, Shakspere has worked up one of the most attractive of his plays.

A German critic, Dr. Ulrici, has presented to us the entire plot of 'The Merchant of Venice' under a very original aspect. His object has been to discover, what he maintains had not been previously discovered, the fundamental idea of the drama—the link which holds together all its apparently heterogeneous parts. The critic first passes the several characters in review. Antonio is the noble and great-hearted, yielding to a passive melancholy, produced by the weight of a too agitating life of action; Bassanio, somewhat inconsiderate, but generous and sensible, is the genuine Italian gentleman, in the best sense of the word; Portia is most amiable, and intellectually rich; Jessica is a child of nature, lost in an oriental love enthusiasm. The critic presents these characteristics in a very few words; but his portrait of Shylock is more elaborate. He is the well-struck image of the Jewish character in general-of the fallen member of a race dispersed over the whole earth, and enduring long centuries of persecution. Their firmness had become obstinacy; their quickness of intellect, craft; their love of possessions, a revolting avarice. "Nothing," says Dr. Ulrici, "had kept its rank in their universal decay, but the unconquerable constancy, the dry mummy-like tenacity of the Jewish nature. So appears Shylock-a pitiable ruin of a great and significant by-past time-the glimmering ash-spark of a faded splendour which can no longer warm or preserve, but can yet burn or destroy. We are as little able to deny him our compassion, as we can withhold our disgust against his modes of thinking and acting."