ptions are _The Tempest_ and
_Hamlet_, to which we shall return in due course.

How does _The Merchant of Venice_ open? With a long conversation
exhibiting the character of Antonio, the friendship between him and
Bassanio, the latter's financial straits, and his purpose of wooing
Portia. The second scene displays the character of Portia, and informs
us of her father's device with regard to her marriage; but this
information is conveyed in three or four lines. Not till the third scene
do we see or hear of Shylock, and not until very near the end of the act
is there any foreshadowing of what is to be the main crisis of the play.
Not a single antecedent event has to be narrated to us; for the mere
fact that Antonio has been uncivil to Shylock, and shown disapproval of
his business methods, can scarcely be regarded as a preliminary outside
the frame of the picture.

In _As You Like It_ there are no preliminaries to be stated beyond the
facts that Orlando is at enmity with his elder brother, and that Duke
Frederick has usurped the coronet and dukedom of Rosalind's father.
These facts being made apparent without any sort of formal exposition,
the crisis of the play rapidly announces itself in the wrestling-match
and its sequels. In _Much Ado About Nothing_ there is even less of
antecedent circumstance to be imparted. We learn in the first scene,
indeed, that Beatrice and Benedick have already met and crossed swords;
but this is not in the least essential to the action; the play might
have been to all intents and purposes the same had they never heard of
each other until after the rise of the curtain. In _Twelfth Night_ there
is a semblance of a retrospective exposition in the scene between Viola
and the Captain; but it is of the simplest nature, and conveys no
information beyond what, at a later period, would have been imparted on
the playbill, thus--

"Orsino, Duke of Illyria, in love with Olivia.
Olivia, an heiress, in mourning for her brother,"

and so forth. In _The Taming of the Shrew_ there are no antecedents
whatever to be stated. It is true that Lucentio, in the opening speech,
is good enough to inform Tranio who he is and what he is doing
there--facts with which Tranio is already perfectly acquainted. But this
was merely a conventional opening, excused by the fashion of the time;
it was in no sense a necessary exposition. For the rest, the crisis of
the play--the battle between Katherine and Petruchio--begins