No resting could he find at all,
No ease, nor hearts content;
No house, no home, no dwelling place:
But wandring forth he went,
From town to town in foreign lands,
With grieved conscience still,
Repenting for the heinous guilt
Of his fore-passed sin.

Thus after some few ages past
In wandring up and down,
He much again desired to see
Jerusalems fair town,

But finding it all quite destroy'd,

He wandred thence with woe,

Our Saviours words which he had spoke, To verifie and show.

I'll rest! sayd hee, but thou shalt walk,
So doth this wandring Jew
From place to place, but cannot stay
For seeing countries new;
Declaring still the power of him,
Whereas he comes or goes;
And of all things done in the east,
Since Christ his death, he shows.

The world he still doth compass round
And see those nations strange,
That hearing of the name of Christ,
Their idol gods do change:
To whom he hath told wondrous things
Of times forepast and gone,

And to the princes of the world
Declares his cause of moan:

Desiring still to be dissolv'd,

And yield his mortal breath ;
But, if the Lord hath thus decreed,
He shall not yet see death.
For neither looks he old or young,

But as he did those times,
When Christ did suffer on the cross,

He hath past through many a foreign place, Arabia, Egypt, Africa,

Grecia, Syria, and great Thrace,

And through all Hungaria.

Where Paul and Peter preached Christ,
Those blest apostles deare;

Where he hath told our Saviours words,
In countries far and near.

And lately in Bohemia,

With many a German town;
And now in Flanders, as tis thought,
He wandreth up and down:
Where learned men with him confer
Of those his lingering days,
And wonder much to hear him tell
His journies, and his ways.

If people give this Jew an alms,
The most that he will take
Is not above a groat a time:
Which he for Jesus' sake,
Will kindly give unto the poor,
And thereof make no spare,
Affirming still that Jesus Christ
Of him hath daily care.

He ne'er was seen to laugh or smile,
But weep and make great moan;
Lamenting still his miseries,

And days forepast and gone:
If he hear any one blaspheme,
Or take God's name in vaine,
He tells them that they crucifie
Their Saviour Christ again.

'If you had seen his death,' saith he,
'As these mine eyes have done,

Ten thousand thousand times would ye,
His torments think upon :

And suffer for his sake all paine,

All torments, and all woes.'
These are his words and this his life

HEARTER

[This ballad was printed by Dr. Percy, in his 'Reliques,' from an 'ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, -compared with the Ashmole copy-entitled, A New Song, showing the crueltie of Gernutus, a Jewe, who, lending to a merchant an hundred crowns, would have a pound of his fleshe, because he could not pay him at the time appointed. To the tune of Blacke and Yellow.'' It is invested with an interest beyond that which of itself it might have inspired, by the circumstance of its having in all probability been known to and employed by Shakespeare in the construction of his play of The Merchant of Venice For that it was written before that play, was the opinion of Warton, ('Observations on the Faerie Queene,' i. 128,) who first drew attention to the ballad; and seems to be that of critics in general. This is equivalent to assigning it a date at least as old as 1598, in which year, we know, from Meres' "Palladis Tamia,' that Shakespeare's play was in existence; though it does not appear to have been printed before the year 1600. (Pictorial Shakespeare, p. 192, London, 1846.) The original source, however, to which both Shakespeare and the ballad-maker were indebted, was undoubtedly the Pecorone of Sir Giovanni Fiorentino, which was printed in Italy in the year 1544. There is another ballad on the same subject, entitled, The Northern Lord and Cruel Jew,' which was given by Mr. Buchan in his Gleanings of Scotch, English, and Irish scarce Old Ballads,' Peterhead, 1825.

N Venice towne not long agoe

A cruel Jew did dwell,
Which lived all on usurie.
As Italian writers tell.

209

Gernutus called was the Jew,
Which never thought to dye;
Nor ever yet did any good

To them in streets that lie.

His life was like a barrow hogge,
That liveth many a day,
Yet never once did any good,
Until men will him slay.

Or like a filthy heap of dung,
That lyeth in a whoard;
Which never can do any good,
Till it be spread abroad.

So fares it with the usurer,
He cannot sleep in rest,

For feare the thiefe will him pursue
To plucke him from his nest.

His heart doth think on many a wile,
How to deceive the poore;

His mouthe is almost full of mucke;
Yet still he gapes for more.

His wife must lend a shilling,

For every weeke a penny,

Yet bring a pledge, that is double worth, If that you will have any.

And see, likewise, you keepe your day,

Or else you loose it all:

This was the living of the wife,

Her cow she did it call.

Within that citie dwelt that time
A marchant of great fame,
Which, being distressed in his need,
Unto Gernutus came:

Desiring him to stand his friend
For twelve month and a day,
To lend to him an hundred crownes ;
And he for it would pay

Whatsoever he would demand of him,
And pledges he should have.

No, (quoth the Jew, with flearing lookes,)
Sir, aske what you will have.

No

penny for the loane of it
For one year you shall pay;
You may do me as goode a turne,
Before my dying day.

But we will have a merry jeast,
For to be talked long ;

You shall make me a bond, quoth he,
That shall be large and strong:

With right good will! the marchant says;
And so the bond was made.

When twelve month and a day drew on
That backe it should be payd,

The marchant's ships were all at sea,

And money came not in

;

Which way to take, or what to doe,
To think he doth begin ;

And to Gernutus strait he comes
With cap and bended knee,
And sayde to him, Of curtesie
I pray you beare with mee.

My day is come, and I have not

The money

for to pay;

And little good the forfeiture

Will doe

you,

I dare say.

With all all my heart, Gernutus sayd,
Commaund it to your minde;

In things of bigger waight then this
You shall me ready finde.

He

goes his way; the day once past, Gernutus doth not slacke

To get a sergiant presently;

And clapt him on the backe:

And layd him into prison strong,

And sued his bond withall;

And when the judgement day was come,
For judgement he did call.