along with Portia as well as with Shylock; we must understand her concealed purpose, keep in mind her noble motives, and pursue in our fancy the under current of feeling, working in her mind throughout. The terror and the power of Shylock's character,—his deadly and inexorable malice, -would be too oppressive; the pain and pity too intolerable, and the horror of the possible issue too overwhelming, but for the intellectual relief afforded by this double source of interest and contemplation.

I come now to that capacity for warm and generous affection, that tenderness of heart which render Portia not less loveable as a woman, than admirable for her mental endowments. What an exquisite stroke of judgment in the poet, to make the mutual passion of Portia and Bassanio, though unacknowledged to each other, anterior to the opening of the play! Bassanio's confession very properly comes first;

BASSANIO.

In Belmont is a lady richly left,

And she is fair, and fairer than that word,

Of wond'rous virtues; sometimes from her eyes

I did receive fair speechless messages;

and prepares us for Portia's half betrayed, unconscious election of this most graceful and chivalrous admirer

NERISSA.

Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat?

PORTIA.

Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so he was called.

NERISSA.

True, madam; he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.

PORTIA.

I remember him well; and I remember him worthy of thy praise.

Our interest is thus awakened for the lovers from the very first: and what shall be said of the casket scene with Bassanio, where every line which Portia speaks is so worthy of herself, so full of sentiment and beauty, and poetry, and passion? Too naturally frank for disguise, too modest to

confess her depth of love while the issue of the trial remains in suspense,-the conflict between love and fear, and maidenly dignity, cause the most delicious confusion that ever tinged a woman's cheek, or dropped in broken utterance from her lips.

pray you, tarry; pause a day or two,

Before

you hazard: for, in choosing wrong,

I lose your company; therefore, forbear a while :
There's something tells me, (but it is not love,)
I would not lose you; and you know yourself
Hate counsels not in such a quality:

But lest you should not understand me well,

(And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,)
I would detain you here some month or two,
I could teach you

Before you venture for me.

How to choose right,—but then I am forsworn ;-
So will I never be: so you may miss me ;-

But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,

They have o'erlook'd me, and divided me;

One half of me is yours, the other half yours,-
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours!

The short dialogue between the lovers is exqui

site.

BASSANIO.

Let me choose;

For, as I am, I live upon the rack.

PORTIA.

Upon the rack, Bassanio? Then confess

What treason there is mingled with your love.

BASSANIO.

None, but that ugly treason of mistrust

Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love

There may as well be amity and life

'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love

PORTIA.

Ay! but I fear you speak upon the rack,

Where men enforced do speak anything.

BASSANIO.

Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.

PORTIA.

Well, then, confess, and live.

BASSANIO.

Confess and love

Had been the very sum of my confession!

O happy torment, when my torturer

Doth teach me answers for deliverance !

A prominent feature in Portia's character, is that confiding, buoyant spirit, which mingles with all her thoughts and affections. And here let me observe, that I never yet met in real life, nor ever read in tale or history, of any woman, distinguished for intellect of the highest order, who was not also remarkable for this trustingness of spirit, this hopefulness and cheerfulness of temper, which is compatible with the most serious habits of thought, and the most profound sensibility. Lady Wortley Montagu was one instance; and Madame de Stael furnishes another much more memorable. In her Corinne, whom she drew from herself, this natural brightness of temper is a prominent part of the character. A disposition to doubt, to suspect, and to despond, in the young, argues, in general, some inherent weakness, moral or physical, or or some miserable and radical error of education: in the old, it is one of the first symptoms of age: it speaks of the influence of sorrow and experience, and foreshows the decay of the stronger and more generous powers of the soul. Portia's strength of intellect takes a natural tinge