Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio,
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
An evil soul, producing holy witness,

Is like a villain with a smiling cheek—

A goodly apple rotten at the heart;
Oh, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!

Shy. Three thousand ducats!—'tis a good round sum.
Three months from twelve-then, let me see-the rate.
Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?
Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft,
In the Rialto have you rated me
About my moneys, and my usances:
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe:
You call me-misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gabardine,
And all for use of that which is mine own!

Well, then, it now appears you need my help:
Go to, then; you come to me, and you say,
Shylock, we would have moneys!—you say so-
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold:-moneys is your suit!
What should I say to you? Should I not say,
Hath a dog money?-is it possible

A cur can lend three thousand ducats? or,
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness,
Say this,-

Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call'd me-dog; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much moneys!

Ant. I am as like to call thee so again,
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.

If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not
As to thy friends-(for when did friendship take
A breed for barren mettle of his friend?)—
But lend it rather to thine enemy;

Who, if he break, thou may'st with better face
Exact the penalty.

Shy. Why, look you how you storm! I would be friends with you, and have your love, Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with, Supply your present wants, and take no doit Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me ! This is kind I offer.

Ant.
This were kindness.
Shy. This kindness will I show:-
Go with me to a notary, seal me there
Your single bond; and, in a merry sport,
If you repay me not on such a day,
In such a place, such sum, or sums, as are
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken
In what part of your body pleaseth me.

Ant. Content, in faith: I'll seal to such a bond,
And say, there is much kindness in the Jew.

Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me: I'll rather dwell in my necessity.

Ant. Why, fear not, mán; I will not forfeit it: Within these two months, that's a month before This bond expires, I do expect return

Of thrice three times the value of this bond.

Shy. O father Abraham, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealings teach them to suspect The thoughts of others!-Pray you, tell me this: If he should break his day, what should I gain By the exaction of the forfeiture?

A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man,
Is not so estimable, profitable neither,
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say,
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship:
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;"
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
Ant. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's;
Give him direction for this merry bond,

And I will go and purse the ducats straight-
See to my house, left in the fearful guard
Of an unthrifty knave-and presently
I will be with you.
Ant.
Hie thee, gentle Jew.
This Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind.
Bass. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind.
Ant. Come on: in this there can be no dismay,
My ships come home a month before the day.

IMMORTALITY.

[Exit.

WHEN I think of myself as existing through all future ages-as surviving this earth, and that sky-as exempted from every imperfection and error of my present being,— as clothed with an angel's glory-as comprehending with my intellect, and embracing in my affections, an extent of creation, compared with which the earth is a point;—when I think of myself as looking on the outward universe, with an organ of vision that will reveal to me a beauty, and harmony, and order, not now imagined—and as having an access to the minds of the wise and good, which will make them in a sense my own;-when I think of myself -as forming friendships with innumerable beings, of rich and various intellect, and of the noblest virtue-as intro

duced to the society of heaven-as meeting there the great and excellent, of whom I have read in history-as joined with the "just made perfect," in an ever-enlarging ministry of benevolence-as conversing with Jesus Christ, with the familiarity of friendship-and especially, as having an immediate intercourse with God, such as the closest intimacies of earth dimly shadow forth;-when this thought of my future being, comes upon me,-whilst I hope, I also fear, the blessedness seems too great; the consciousness of present weakness and unworthiness, is almost too strong for hope.

But when, in this frame of mind, I look round on the creation, and see there the marks of an Omnipotent Goodness, to which nothing is impossible, and from which every thing may be hoped—when I see around me, the proofs of an Infinite Father, who must desire the perpetual progress of his intellectual offspring-when I look, next, at the human mind, and see what powers a few years have unfolded, and discern in it the capacity of everlasting improvement,—and, especially, when I look at Jesus, the conqueror of death, the heir of immortality, who has gone, as the forerunner of mankind, into the mansions of light and purity,—I can and do admit the almost overpowering thought, of the everlasting life-growth-felicity of the human soul.

THE SPANISH CHAMPION.

THE warrior bow'd his crested head,
And tamed his heart of fire,

And sued the haughty king to free
His long-imprison'd sire;

"I bring thee here my fortress keys,
I bring my captive train,

I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!—
Oh, break my father's chain!"

"Rise, rise! even now thy father comes,
A ransom❜d man this day;

Mount thy good steed, and thou and I
Will meet him on his way."
Then lightly rose that loyal son,
And bounded on his steed,
And urged, as if with lance in hand,
His charger's foaming speed.

And lo! from far, as on they press'd,
There came a glittering band,
With one that 'mid them stately rode,
As a leader in the land;

"Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there,
In very truth, is he,

The father whom thy faithful heart
Hath yearn'd so long to see."

His proud breast heaved, his dark eye flash'd, His cheek's blood came and went;

He reach'd that grey-hair'd chieftain's side, And there, dismounting, bent;

A lowly knee to earth he bent,

His father's hand he took,What was there in its touch that all His fiery spirit shook?

That hand was cold-a frozen thing-
It dropp'd from his like lead,—
He look'd up to the face above—
The face was of the dead!
A plume waved o'er the noble brow-
The brow was fix'd and white;—
He met at last his father's eyes—
But in them was no sight!