It is a wise father that knows his own child.
I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto?
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea.
What! wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.
In the twinkling of an eye.
He doth nothing but talk of his horse.
The young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven.
Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun.
The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 'T is mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.
There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue in his outward parts.
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted.
Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, Reply.
My meaning in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand me that he is sufficient.
If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces.
Must I hold a candle to my shames?
And the vile squeaking of the wry-necked fife.
If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
For when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend?
He is well paid that is well satisfied.
I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?
I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
When he is best, he is a little worse than a man; and when he is worst, he is little better than a beast.
I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing.
A goodly apple rotten at the heart: O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
An honest exceeding poor man.
How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Speak me fair in death.
We will answer all things faithfully.
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words That ever blotted paper!
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people.
The very staff of my age, my very prop.
Fish not, with this melancholy bait, For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
An unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised; Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn.
I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground.
Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.
The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest.
These blessed candles of the night.
You take my house when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house; you take my life When you do take the means whereby I live.
I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,-- A stage, where every man must play a part; And mine a sad one.
In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight The selfsame way, with more advised watch, To find the other forth; and by adventuring both, I oft found both.
The kindest man, The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies.
All that glisters is not gold.
An upright judge, a learned judge!
I dote on his very absence.
If my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word.
The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree.
There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond.
Makes a swan-like end, Fading in music.
All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place.
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
You have too much respect upon the world: They lose it that do buy it with much care.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit.
O Father Abram! what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others!
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate.
Thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother.
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Young in limbs, in judgment old.
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
A harmless necessary cat.
The villany you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction.
Superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness.
They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.
How many things by season season'd are To their right praise and true perfection!
'T is not in the bond.
Let it serve for table-talk.
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine.
This night methinks is but the daylight sick.
A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.
A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!
Ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves.
God, made him, and therefore let him pass for a man.
Many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me.
Is it so nominated in the bond?
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long.
I never knew so young a body with so old a head.
Even in the force and road of casualty.
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt But being season'd with a gracious voice Obscures the show of evil?
A light wife doth make a heavy husband. -- Wm. Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice"
All things that are, are with more spirit chased than enjoyed. -- Shakespeare, "Merchant of Venice"
This night methinks is but the daylight sick. -- William Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice"
It is a wise father that knows his own child. -- William Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice"
Delay not, Caesar. Read it instantly. -- Shakespeare, "Julius Caesar" 3,1 Here is a letter, read it at your leisure. -- Shakespeare, "Merchant of Venice" 5,1 [Quoted in "VMS Internals and Data Structures", V4.4, when referring to I/O system services.]
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. -- William Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice"
Must I hold a candle to my shames? -- William Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice"
I dote on his very absence. -- William Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice"
As the middle ages receded, the known life of man upon this earth became of sovereign interest, and of this interest the drama is the freest artistic expression. If Marlowe is the voice of the impulse to explore, the plays of Shakespeare are the amplest freight brought home by any voyager. Shakespeare is not only the greatest but the earliest English dramatist who took humanity for his province. But this he did not do from the beginning. He was at first subdued to what he worked in; and though the dry pedantic tragedy was shattered and could not touch him, the gore and rant, the impure though genuine force of Kyd do not seem at first to have repelled him; if, as is likely, he had a hand in _Titus Andronicus_. He probably served with Marlowe and others of the school at various stages in the composition of the three chronicle dramas finally entitled _Henry VI_. But besides the high-superlative style that is common to them all, there runs through them the rhymed rhetoric with which Shakespeare dallied for some time, as well as the softer flute-notes and deeper undersong that foretell his later blank verse. In _Richard III._, though it is built on the scheme and charged with the style of Marlowe, Shakespeare first showed the intensity of his original power. But after a few years he swept out of Marlowe's orbit into his own vaster and unreturning curve. In _King John_ the lyrical, epical, satirical and pathetic chords are all present, if they are scarcely harmonized. Meantime, Lyly and Greene having displaced the uncouther comedy, Shakespeare learned all they had to teach, and shaped the comedy of poetic, chivalrous fancy and good-tempered high spirits, which showed him the way of escape from his own rhetoric, and enabled him to perfect his youthful, noble and gentle blank verse. This attained its utmost fineness in _Richard II._, and its full cordiality and beauty in the other plays that consummate this period--_A Midsummer Night's Dream_, _The Merchant of Venice_, and one romantic tragedy, _Romeo and Juliet_. Behind them lay the earlier and fainter romances, with their chivalry and gaiety, _The Comedy of Errors_, _Love's Labour's Lost_ and _The Two Gentlemen of Verona_. Throughout these years blank verse contended with rhyme, which Shakespeare after a while abandoned save for special purposes, as though he had exhausted its honey. The Italian Renaissance is felt in the scenery and setting of these plays. The _novella_ furnishes the story, which passes in a city of the Southern type, with its absolute ruler, its fantastic by-laws on which the plot nominally turns, and its mixture of real life and marvel. The personages, at first fainter of feature and symmetrically paired, soon assume sharper outline: Richard II. and Shylock, Portia and Juliet, and Juliet's Nurse and Bottom are created. The _novella_ has left the earth and taken wings: the spirit is now that of youth and Fancy (or love brooding among the shallows) with interludes of "fierce vexation," or of tragedy, or of kindly farce. And there is a visionary element, felt in the musings of Theseus upon the nature of poetry of the dream-faculty itself; an element which is new, like the use made of fairy folklore, in the poetry of England. Entry: 1590
HOOK, JAMES CLARKE (1819-1907), English painter, was born in London on the 21st of November 1819. His father, James Hook, a Northumbrian by descent, Judge Arbitrator of Sierra Leone, married the second daughter of Dr Adam Clarke, the commentator on the Bible, who gave to the painter his second name. Young Hook's first taste of the sea was on board the Berwick smacks which took him on his way to Wooler. He drew with rare facility, and determined to become an artist; and accordingly, without any supervision, he set to work for more than a year in the sculpture galleries of the British Museum. In 1836 he was admitted a student of the Royal Academy, where he worked for three years, and elsewhere learned a good deal of the scientific technique of painting from a nephew of Opie. His first picture, called "The Hard Task," was exhibited in 1837, and represented a girl helping her sister with a lesson. Unusual facility in portraiture and a desire to earn his own living took the student into Ireland to paint likenesses of the Waterford family and others; here he produced landscapes of the Vale of Avoca, and much developed his taste for pastoral art; later, he was similarly engaged in Kent and Somersetshire. In 1842 his second exhibited work was a portrait of "Master J. Finch Smith": in this year he gained silver medals at the Royal Academy, and in 1843 he was one of the competitors in the exhibition of cartoons in Westminster Hall, with a 10 by 7 ft. design of "Satan in Paradise." In 1844 the Academy contained a picture of a kind with which his name was long associated, an illustration of the _Decameron_, called "Pamphilius relating his Story," a meadow scene in bright light, with sumptuous ladies, richly clad, reclining on the grass. The British Institution, 1844 and 1845, set forth two of Hook's idylls, subjects taken from Shakespeare and Burns, which, with the above, showed him to be cultivating those veins of romantic sentiment and the picturesque which were then in vogue, but in a characteristically fresh and vigorous manner. "The Song of Olden Times" (Royal Academy, 1845) marked the artist's future path distinctly in most technical respects. It was in this year Hook won the Academy gold medal for an oil picture of "The Finding the Body of Harold." The travelling studentship in painting was awarded to him for "Rizpah watching the Dead Sons of Saul" in 1846; and he went for three years to Italy, having married Miss Rosalie Burton before he left England. Hook passed through Paris, worked diligently for some time in the Louvre, traversed Switzerland, and, though he stayed only part of three years in Italy, gained much from studies of Titian, Tintoret, Carpaccio, Mansueti and other Venetians. Their influence thenceforth dominated the coloration of his pictures, and enabled him to apply the principles to which they had attained to the representation (as Bonington before him had done) of romantic subjects and to those English themes of the land and sea with which the name of the artist is inseparably associated. "A Dream of Ancient Venice" (R.A., 1848)--the first fruit of these Italian studies--"Bayard of Brescia" (R.A., 1849), "Venice" (B.I., 1849) and other works assured for Hook the Associateship of the Royal Academy in 1851. Soon afterwards an incomparable series of English subjects was begun, in many pastorals and fine brilliant idylls of the sea and rocks. "A Rest by the Wayside" and "A Few Minutes to Wait before Twelve o'clock" proved his title to appear, in 1854, as a new and original painter. After these came "A Signal on the Horizon" (1857), "A Widow's Son going to Sea," "The Ship-boy's Letter," "Children's Children are the Crown of Old Men," "A Coast-boy gathering Eggs," a scene at Lundy; the perfect "Luff, Boy!" (1859), about which Ruskin broke into a dithyrambic chant, "The Brook," "Stand Clear!" "O Well for the Fisherman's Boy!" (1860), "Leaving Cornwall for the Whitby Fishing," "Sea Urchins," and a score more as fine as these. The artist was elected a full Academician on the 6th of March 1860, in the place of James Ward. He died on the 14th of April 1907. Entry: HOOK
In 1868-1869 Edwin Booth built a theatre of his own--Booth's theatre, at the corner of 23rd Street and 6th Avenue, New York--and organized an excellent stock company, which produced _Romeo and Juliet_, _The Winter's Tale_, _Julius Caesar_, _Macbeth_, _Much Ado about Nothing_, _The Merchant of Venice_ and other plays. In all cases Booth used the true text of Shakespeare, thus antedating by many years a similar reform in England. Almost invariably his ventures were successful, but he was of a generous and confiding nature, and his management was not economical. In 1874 the grand dramatic structure he had raised was taken from him, and with it went his entire fortune. By arduous toil, however, he again accumulated wealth, in the use of which his generous nature was shown. He converted his spacious residence in Gramercy Park, New York, into a club--The Players'--for the elect of his profession, and for such members of other professions as they might choose. The house, with all his books and works of art, and many invaluable mementos of the stage, became the property of the club. A single apartment he kept for himself. In this he died on the 7th of June 1893. Among his parts were Macbeth, Lear, Othello, Iago, Shylock, Wolsey, Richard II., Richard III., Benedick, Petruccio, Richelieu, Sir Giles Overreach, Brutus (Payne's), Bertuccio (in Tom Taylor's _The Fool's Revenge_), Ruy Blas, Don Cesar de Bazan, and many more. His most famous part was Hamlet, for which his extraordinary grace and beauty and his eloquent sensibility peculiarly fitted him. He probably played the part oftener than any other actor before or since. He visited London in 1851, and again in 1880 and in 1882, playing at the Haymarket theatre with brilliant success. In the last year he also visited Germany, where his acting was received with the highest enthusiasm. His last appearance was in Brooklyn as Hamlet in 1891. Booth was twice married: in 1860 to Mary Devlin (d. 1863), and in 1869 to Mary F. McVicker (d. 1881). He left by his first wife one daughter, Edwina Booth Grossman, who published _Edwin Booth: Recollections_ (New York, 1894). Entry: BOOTH
GILBERT, SIR JOHN (1817-1897), English painter and illustrator, one of the eight children of George Felix Gilbert, a member of a Derbyshire family, was born at Blackheath on the 21st of July 1817. He went to school there, and even in childhood displayed an extraordinary fondness for drawing and painting. Nevertheless, his father's lack of means compelled him to accept employment for the boy in the office of Messrs Dickson & Bell, estate agents, in Charlotte Row, London. Yielding, however, to his natural bent, his parents agreed that he should take up art in his own way, which included but little advice from others, his only teacher being Haydon's pupil, George Lance, the fruit painter. This artist gave him brief instructions in the use of colour. In 1836 Gilbert appeared in public for the first time. This was at the gallery of the Society of British Artists, where he sent drawings, the subjects of which were characteristic, being "The Arrest of Lord Hastings," from Shakespeare, and "Abbot Boniface," from _The Monastery_ of Scott. "Inez de Castro" was in the same gallery in the next year; it was the first of a long series of works in the same medium, representing similar themes, and was accompanied, from 1837, by a still greater number of works in oil which were exhibited at the British Institution. These included "Don Quixote giving advice to Sancho Panza," 1841; "Brunette and Phillis," from _The Spectator_, 1844; "The King's Artillery at Marston Moor," 1860; and "Don Quixote comes back for the last time to his Home and Family," 1867. In that year the Institution was finally closed. Gilbert exhibited at the Royal Academy from 1838, beginning with the "Portrait of a Gentleman," and continuing, except between 1851 and 1867, till his death to exhibit there many of his best and more ambitious works. These included such capital instances as "Holbein painting the Portrait of Anne Boleyn," "Don Quixote's first Interview with the Duke and Duchess," 1842, "Charlemagne visiting the Schools," 1846. "Touchstone and the Shepherd," and "Rembrandt," a very fine piece, were both there in 1867; and in 1873 "Naseby," one of his finest and most picturesque designs, was also at the Royal Academy. Gilbert was elected A.R.A. 29th January 1872, and R.A. 29th June 1876. Besides these mostly large and powerful works, the artist's true arena of display was undoubtedly the gallery of the Old Water Colour Society, to which from 1852, when he was elected an Associate exhibitor, till he died forty-five years later, he contributed not fewer than 270 drawings, most of them admirable because of the largeness of their style, massive coloration, broad chiaroscuro, and the surpassing vigour of their designs. These qualities induced the leading critics to claim for him opportunities for painting mural pictures of great historic themes as decorations of national buildings. "The Trumpeter," "The Standard-Bearer," "Richard II. resigning his Crown" (now at Liverpool), "The Drug Bazaar at Constantinople," "The Merchant of Venice" and "The Turkish Water-Carrier" are but examples of that wealth of art which added to the attractions of the gallery in Pall Mall. There Gilbert was elected a full Member in 1855, and president of the Society in 1871, shortly after which he was knighted. As an illustrator of books, magazines and periodicals of every kind he was most prolific. To the success of the _Illustrated London News_ his designs lent powerful aid, and he was eminently serviceable in illustrating the _Shakespeare_ of Mr Howard Staunton. He died on the 6th of October 1897. (F. G. S.) Entry: GILBERT
Altogether not less than thirty-five prose-tracts are ascribed to Greene's prolific pen. Nearly all of them are interspersed with verses; in their themes they range from the "misticall" wonders of the heavens to the familiar but "pernitious sleights" of the sharpers of London. But the most widely attractive of his prose publications were his "love-pamphlets," which brought upon him the outcry of Puritan censors. The earliest of his novels, as they may be called, _Mamillia_, was licensed in 1583. This interesting story may be said to have accompanied Greene through life; for even part ii., of which, though probably completed several years earlier, the earliest extant edition bears the date 1593, had a sequel, _The Anatomie of Love's Flatteries_, which contains a review of suitors recalling Portia's in _The Merchant of Venice_. _The Myrrour of Modestie_ (the story of Susanna) (1584); _The Historie of Arhasto, King of Denmarke_ (1584); _Morando, the Tritameron of Love_ (a rather tedious imitation of the _Decameron_ (1584); _Planetomachia_ (1585) (a contention in story-telling between Venus and Saturn); _Penelope's Web_ (1587) (another string of stories); _Alcida_, _Greene's Metamorphosis_ (1588), and others, followed. In these popular productions he appears very distinctly as a follower of John Lyly; indeed, the first part of _Mamillia_ was entered in the Stationers' Registers in the year of the appearance of _Euphues_, and two of Greene's novels are by their titles announced as a kind of sequel to the parent romance: _Euphues his Censure to Philautus_ (1587), _Menaphon. Camilla's Alarum to Slumbering Euphues_ (1589), named in some later editions _Greene's Arcadia_. This pastoral romance, written in direct emulation of Sidney's, with a heroine called Samila, contains St Sephestia's charming lullaby, with its refrain "Father's sorowe, father's joy." But, though Greene's style copies the balanced oscillation, and his diction the ornateness (including the proverbial philosophy) of Lyly, he contrives to interest by the matter as well as to attract attention by the manner of his narratives. Of his highly moral intentions he leaves the reader in no doubt, since they are exposed on the title-pages. The full title of the _Myrrour of Modestie_ for instance continues: "wherein appeareth as in a perfect glasse how the Lord delivereth the innocent from all imminent perils, and plagueth the blood-thirsty hypocrites with deserved punishments," &c. On his _Pandosto, The Triumph of Time_ (1588) Shakespeare founded _A Winter's Tale_; in fact, the novel contains the entire plot of the comedy, except the device of the living statue; though some of the subordinate characters in the play, including Autolycus, were added by Shakespeare, together with the pastoral fragrance of one of its episodes. Entry: GREENE