from which he received a very ample income-estimated as equivalent t about five thousand dollars of our money now. Though he lived in familiar intercourse with the nobles, the wits, and the poets of his day, he looked for ward to the time when he should retire to his native town, and with this view he purchased New Place, the principal house in Stratford, with more than a hundred acres of ground attached. "The year 1612 has been assigned as the date of his final retirement to the country. In the fulness of his fame, with a handsome competency, and before age had chilled the enjoyment of life, the poet returned to his native town to spend the remainder of his days among the quiet scenes and the friends of his youth. Four years were spent by Shakspeare in this dignified retirement, and the history of literature scarcely presents another such picture of calm felicity and satisfied ambition. He died on the 23d of April, 1616, having just completed his fifty-second year. His widow survived him seven years. He had three children, one son and two daughters. The former died in 1596. Both the latter were married, and one had three sons, but all these died without issue, and there now remains no lineal representative of the great poet." So many authors having written upon Shakspeare and his dramas, some of whom are referred to in the note, it is deemed unnecessary here to go into a critical examination of his character. Indeed it would be hardly pos sible to say any thing new. The subject seems to be exhausted. And to write in eulogy would be somewhat presumptuous, when he has so exquisitely pronounced his own: To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. One of his contemporaries, Ben Jonson, thus characterizes him :-" I loved the man, and do honor to his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature: had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions; wherein he flowed with that facility that sometimes it was necessary it should be stopped. His wit was in his own power; would the rule of it had been so too! But he redeemed his vices with his virtues; there was even more in him to be praised than pardoned." But Dryden has portrayed his genius in the following nervous and masteriy lines, which have been served up to us in a diluted state by many a modern critic-To begin, then, with Shakspeare. He was the man who, of all modern and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. All the images of nature were still present to him, and he drew them, not laboriously, but luckily: when he describes any thing, you more than see it—you feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted learning, give him the greater commendation: he was naturally learned; he needed not the spectacles of books to read nature; he looked inwards and found her there. I cannot say he is everywhere alike; were he so, I should do him injury to coin. pare him with the greatest of mankind. He is many times flat and insipid; his comic wit degenerating into clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great when some great occasion is presented to him; no man can say he ever had a fit subject for his wit, and did not then raise himself as high above the rest of poets, Quantum lenta solent inter víburna cupressi.1 The consideration of this, made Mr. Hales of Eaton say, 'that there was no subject of which any poet ever wrote, but he would produce it much better done in Shakspeare," " The difficulty of making selections from Shakspeare must be obvious to every one. So numerous and diversified are his characters, so varied his style, suited to every description of poetry and of fiction, and so many gems of wit, humor, satire, and pathos, everywhere present themselves, that the mind is perplexed what to choose. But we must begin. THE THREE CASKETS. Portia, a beautiful and accomplished heiress, is sought in marriage by a large number of suitors, whose fate is to be determined by the choice they make of one of three caskets, "gold, silver, and base lead." The following are the comments of three of the suitors: Enter Portia, with the Prince of Morocco. Por. Now make your choice. Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears;- Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince: Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see, What says this leaden casket? Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath. Do it in hope of fair advantages: A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, As much as I deserve!-Why, that's the lady; 1 As the cypresses are wont to do among the slender shrubs. 2 That is, as gross as the dull metal. What if I stray'd no further, but chose here? Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! Por. There, take it, prince, and if my form lie there, Mor. What have we here? [Unlocking the golden casket. A carrion death, within whose empty eye There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing Often have you heard that told: Cold, indeed; and labor lost: Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost.- To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. [Exit. Enter Prince of Arragon. Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince: Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail Of the right casket, never in my life To woo a maid in way of marriage; lastly, Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear, Ar. And so have I address'd' me: Fortune now Even in the force2 and road of casualty. 1 Address'd me-prepared me; that is, I have prepared myself by the same ceremonies. 3 The power. I will not choose what many men desire, Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume O, that estates, degrees, and offices Were not derived corruptly! and that clear honor To be new varnish'd? Well, but to my choice: Por. Too long a pause for that which you find there. How much unlike art thou to Portia! How much unlike my hopes, and my deservings! Ar. What is here? The fire seven times tried this; Seven times tried that judgment is, Some there be, that shadows kiss: With one fool's head I came to woo, Sweet, adieu! I'll keep my oath, Patiently to bear my wroth.3 Enter Bassanio. Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves; The world is still deceived with ornament. In law what plea so tainted and corrupt, 1 The meaning is, how much meanness would be found among the great, and how much greatness among the mean. 2 I know. 8 My misfortune. Obscures the show of evil? In religion, Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, To be the dowry of a second head, The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, The seeming truth which cunning times put on Fair Portia's counterfeit ?4 Opening the leaden casket. What find I here? Here's the scroll, The continent and summary of my fortune If you be well pleased with this, And hold your fortune for your bliss, And claim her with a loving kiss. Por. You see me, lord Bassanio, where I stand, I would not be ambitious in my wish, To wish myself much better; yet, for you, I would be trebled twenty times myself; A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times That only to stand high on your account, 1 Justify it. 8 The treacherous shore. 2 Curled. 4 Counterfeit here means a likeness, a resemblame. 5 That le the "beard". 12 |