nces of the story, become natural, probable, and necessary in
connexion with her. That such a woman should be chosen by the solving of
an enigma, is not surprising: herself and all around her, the scene, the
country, the age in which she is placed, breathe of poetry, romance, and
enchantment.

From the four quarters of the earth they come
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint
The Hyrcanian desert, and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as thoroughfares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia;
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits; but they come
As o'er a brook to see fair Portia.

The sudden plan which she forms for the release of her husband's friend,
her disguise, and her deportment as the young and learned doctor, would
appear forced and improbable in any other woman but in Portia are the
simple and natural result of her character.[10] The quickness with which
she perceives the legal advantage which may be taken of the
circumstances; the spirit of adventure with which she engages in the
masquerading, and the decision, firmness, and intelligence with which
she executes her generous purpose, are all in perfect keeping, and
nothing appears forced--nothing as introduced merely for theatrical
effect.

But all the finest parts of Portia's character are brought to bear in
the trial scene. There she shines forth all her divine self. Her
intellectual powers, her elevated sense of religion, her high honorable
principles, her best feelings as a woman, are all displayed. She
maintains at first a calm self-command, as one sure of carrying her
point in the end; yet the painful heart-thrilling uncertainty in which
she keeps the whole court, until suspense verges upon agony, is not
contrived for effect merely; it is necessary and inevitable. She has two
objects in view; to deliver her husband's friend, and to maintain her
husband's honor by the discharge of his just debt, though paid out of
her own wealth ten times over. It is evident that she would rather owe
the safety of Antonio to any thing rather than the legal quibble with
which her cousin Bellario has armed her, and which she reserves as a
last resource. Thus all the speeches addressed to Shylock in the first
instance, are either direct or indirect experiments on his temper and
feelings. She must be understood from the beginning to the end as
examining,