ib.
 
 ■ %■•
 
 PORTIA
 
 Copyright, 1901 
 
 By 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY SOCIETY
 
 PR 
 
 'R 
 M 
 
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 Preface, 
 
 The Editions. Two Quarto editions of The Merchant 
 of Venice were printed in the year 1600, with the follow- 
 ing title-pages : — 
 
 (i.) The Excellent History of the Merchant of Venice. 
 With the extreme cruelty of Shylocke the Jew towards the 
 said Merchant, in cutting a just pound of his flesh. And 
 the obtaining of Portia, by the choyse of three Caskets. 
 Written by W. Shakespeare. Printed by J. Roberts, 1600. 
 This Quarto had been registered on July 22nd, 1598, with 
 the proviso " that yt bee not printed by the said James 
 Robertes or anye other whatsoueuer without lycence first 
 had from the Right honorable the lord chamberlen." This 
 edition is generally described as 'the first Quarto.' (ii.) 
 The most Excellent Historic of the Merchant of Venice. 
 With the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the J ewe towards 
 the sayd Merchant, in cutting a just pound of his flesh: 
 and the obtayning of Portia by the choyse of three chests. 
 As it hath beene diners times acted by the Lord Chamber- 
 laine his seruants. Written by William Shakespeare. At 
 London. Printed by I. R. for Thomas Heycs, and are to 
 be sold in Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Greene 
 Dragon. 1600. This, the second Quarto, had been en- 
 tered in the Stationers' Registers on the 28th of October 
 of the same year ' under the handes of the Wardens and by 
 consent of master Robertes.' It seems therefore likely 
 that ' I. R.' are the initials of the printer of the first Quarto, 
 though the same type was not used for the two editions, 
 which were evidently printed from different transcripts of 
 the author's manuscript. Quarto 1 gives on the whole a
 
 Preface THE MERCHANT 
 
 more accurate text ; in a few instances it is inferior to 
 Quarto 2. 
 
 The second Quarto was carelessly reprinted in 1637, the 
 only addition being a list of ' The Actors' Names ' ; in one 
 instance it improved on the previous editions (' in measure 
 reine thy joy/ III. ii. 112, instead of ' rain'). A fourth 
 Quarto, probably the third with a new title-page, ap- 
 peared in 1652. Prof. Hales has suggested that the pub- 
 lication of this Quarto was connected with the proposed 
 re-admission of the Jews into England, which was bitterly 
 resented by a large portion of the nation ; ' the re-exhibi- 
 tion of Shylock in 1652 could scarcely have tended to 
 soften this general disposition.' 
 
 The text of the first Folio edition ( 1623) represents that 
 of the second Quarto with a few variations, the most inter- 
 esting being the change of ' the Scottish lord ' into ' the 
 other lord,' evidently in deference to the reigning king. 
 
 During the first half of the eighteenth century a ' low 
 comedy ' version, ' The Jew of Venice/ by George Gran- 
 ville, Viscount Lansdowne, supplanted Shakespeare's 
 play, and held the stage from the date of its appearance in 
 1701 ; Macklin's revival of The Merchant of Venice at the 
 Drury Lane in 1741 dealt a death-blow to Lansdowne's 
 monstrosity, and restored again to the stage 
 
 ' The Jew 
 That Shakespeare drew.' 
 
 The Original Shylock. In the Funeral Elegy of the 
 famous actor, Richard Burbadge, ' who died on Saturday 
 in Lent, the 13th of March, 161 8,' there is a valuable ref- 
 erence to Burbadge's impersonation of Shylock : — 
 
 "Heart-broke Philaster, and Amintas too, 
 Are lost for ever; with the red-haired Jew, 
 Which sought the bankrupt merchant's pound of flesh, 
 By woman-lawyer caught in his own mesh; 
 What a wide world was in that little space, 
 Thyself a world — the Globe thy fittest place"
 
 OF VENICE 
 
 Preface 
 
 (For the interpretation of the character by Macklin, Kean, 
 Irving, and Booth, cp. Furness' Variorum edition, pp. 
 37I-385-)* 
 
 Date of Composition. The Merchant of Venice is 
 mentioned by Francis Meres in his Palladis Tam'xa, 1598; 
 in the same year Roberts entered it on the Books of the 
 Stationers' Company. This is the earliest positive allusion 
 to the play. A noteworthy imitation of the moonlight 
 scene between Lorenzo and Jessica occurs in the play Wily 
 Beguiled, probably written in 1596-7. In Henslowe's 
 Diary, under the date ' August 25th, 1594/ mention is 
 
 Xopc^. comp otirulinfl io voyson the Qjieene 
 From Carleton's 'Thankfull Remembrance. (1624). 
 
 made of '' The J T encsyon Comodcy' (i.e. ( The Venetian 
 Comedy ') asa new play ; one cannot, however, with any 
 certainty identify Henslowe's comedy with The Merchant 
 of Venice, though it seems likely that we have here a refer- 
 ence to a rough draft of the play as we know it, — a partial 
 
 * The most valuable of all the editions of the play (published by 
 Lippencott, 1892). edited by Horace Howard Furness.
 
 Preface • THE MERCHANT 
 
 revision of some older play used by Shakespeare, hastily 
 re-written to satisfy popular feeling against Dr. Roderigo 
 Lopez, the queen's Jewish physician, who was executed 
 on the 7th of June, 1594, on the charge of being bribed by 
 the King of Spain to poison the Queen (cp. The Original 
 of Shylock, by S. L. Lee, Gentleman's Magazine, io3o; 
 the article on ' Lopez ' in the Dictionary of National Biog- 
 raphy; c the Conspiracy of Dr. Lopez," The Historical Re- 
 view, July 1894) . It is a significant fact that Lopez's chief 
 rival was the pretender Don Antonio* 
 
 Finally, Shakespeare's debt to Silvayn's Orator has an 
 important bearing on the date of the play; the English 
 translation appeared in 1596; it is just possible, but un- 
 likely, that Shakespeare had read the work in the original 
 French. The play may perhaps safely be dated ' about 
 1596 ' ; the evidence will allow of nothing more definite. 
 
 The Sources. In 1579 Stephen Gosson, who had him- 
 self been a writer of plays, published his " School of 
 Abuse," containing " a pleasant invective against Poets, 
 Pipers, Players, jesters and such-like Caterpillars of a 
 Commonwealth: setting up the flag of defiance to their 
 mischievous exercise, etc., etc." ; the book is a vigorous 
 attack on the acted drama ; yet he confesses that some of 
 their plays are without rebuke ; ' which are easily remem- 
 
 * Lopez was for a time attached to the household of Lord 
 Leicester. James Burbadge, the father of Richard Burbadge, one 
 of ' the Earl of Leicester's company of servants and players,' must 
 have had many opportunities of seeing Lopez, when the doctor 
 was attending the Earl at Kenilworth. It has been suggested that 
 the traditional red beard of Shylock was actually derived from 
 Burbadge's personal knowledge of Lopez. But it is now generally 
 accepted on ample evidence that there were many Jews scattered 
 throughout England in the Elizabethan period, though their for- 
 mal re-admission was brought about by Cromwell. Queen Eliza- 
 beth seems to have had her very strong doubts as to Lopez's 
 alleged guilt, but his enemies were evidently determined to get rid 
 of him. The accounts of the trial are interesting reading, from 
 many points of view.
 
 OF VENICE Preface 
 
 bered as quickly reckoned' ;' he proceeds to enumerate 
 four plays ; one of these The Jew, shown at the Bull, 
 seems to have been the groundwork of Shakespeare's play, 
 'representing,' as Gosson tells us, 'the greediness of 
 worldly choosers, and bloody minds of usurers/ It is 
 clear from these words that the blending of ' The Bond 
 Story ' and ' The Three Caskets ' was already an accom- 
 plished fact in English dramatic literature as early as 1579. 
 There is probably a reference to this old play in a letter of 
 Spenser to Gabriel Harvey of the same year, 1579, in 
 which he signs himself ' He that is fast bound unto thee 
 in more obligations than any merchant of Italy to any 
 Jew there ' ; and again perhaps the Jew Gerontus in The 
 Three Ladies of London (printed in 1584), who tries to 
 recover a loan of " three thousand ducats for three month" 
 from an Italian merchant Mercatore, may have been de- 
 rived from the same source. " Gernutus '•' was possibly 
 the name of Shylock's prototye ; he is the hero of an old 
 ballad dealing with ' the bond story.' Its omission of all 
 reference to Portia makes it probable that this ballad pre- 
 ceded Shakespeare's play, though the extant text belongs 
 to the end of the sixteenth or to the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century.* 
 
 There are many analogues in European and Oriental lit- 
 erature to the two stories which constitute the main plot of 
 The Merchant of Venice. As far as the pound of flesh 
 and the lady- judge is concerned, the Italian story in the 
 Pecorone of Ser. Giovanni Fiorentino is alone of direct 
 importance as an ultimate source of the play {cp. Hazlitt's 
 
 *" A new song, shelving the cruelty of Gernutus a Jew, who 
 lending to a Marchant a hundred crowns, would have a pound of 
 his Flesh, because he could not pay him at the day appointed. To 
 the Tune of Black and Yellow" {cp. Percy's Rcliques, etc.; the 
 text will be found in most editions of the play). This ballad 
 must be distinguished from Jordan's ballad of 1664 {cp. Furness' 
 Variorum ed., p. 461), in which the author took strange liberties 
 with Shakespeare's story.
 
 Preface 
 
 THE MERCHANT 
 
 Shakspere's Library, Part I. Vol. i.) There can be no 
 doubt that Shakespeare was indebted to this novel. 
 
 " The Gesta Romanorum" — Richard Robinson's Eng- 
 lish version entitled 'Records of Ancyent Historyes' 
 ( x 577) — contains the nearest approximation to the story 
 of ' The Three Caskets ' as treated in this play.* 
 
 A, The Great Channel!. 
 
 B, Market Place of St. Mark. 
 
 K. II Liuo. 
 
 Venice in 1617. 
 From Fynes Moryson's Itinerary, 
 C, Church of St. Peter. 
 
 E Church of St. James neere the bridge Rialto. 
 M, The New Lazaretto. 
 
 Shylock's argument in the trial scene (Act IV. i. 89- 
 102) bears a striking resemblance to ' Declamation 95 ' in 
 Silvayn's Orator (referred to above), " of a Jew, who 
 would for his debt have a pound of the flesh of a Chris- 
 tian/' 
 
 * The various analogues of both stories are given in Furness' 
 edition, pp. 287-331. 
 
 6
 
 OF VENICE Preface 
 
 The elopement of Jessica has been traced by Dunlop to 
 the Fourteenth Tale of Massucio di Salerno, who, enam- 
 oured of the daughter of a rich Neapolitan miser, carries 
 her off much in the same way as in the play. It is not im- 
 probable that the avaricious father in this tale, the daugh- 
 ter so carefully shut up, the elopement of the lovers man- 
 aged by the intervention of a servant, the robbery of the 
 father, and his grief at the discovery, which is represented 
 as divided between the loss of his daughter and his ducats, 
 may have suggested the third plot in Shakespeare's 
 drama. 
 
 Finally, account must be taken of the influence exercised 
 on Shakespeare by Marlowe's Jew of Malta ; the number 
 of parallel passages in the two plays evidences this suf- 
 ficiently ; there is also similarity in the situation between 
 father and daughter (' Oh, girl, oh, gold, oh, beauty, oh, 
 my bliss ') ; Barabas and his slave should be compared 
 with Shylock and Launcelot Gobbo ; Marlowe's ' counter- 
 argument ad Christianos,' as Ward puts it, anticipates 
 Shakespeare's ; yet withal " Marlowe's Jew does not ap- 
 proach so near to Shakespeare's as his Edward the Second 
 does to Richard the Second. Shylock, in the midst of his 
 savage purpose, is a man. His motives, feelings, resent- 
 ments, have something human in them. ' If you wrong us, 
 shall we not revenge ? ' Barabas is a mere monster, 
 brought in with a large painted nose to please the rabble. 
 He kills in sport, poisons whole nunneries, invents infernal 
 machines. He is just such an exhibition as, a century or 
 two earlier, might have been played before the Londoners 
 by the Royal Command, when a general pillage and massa- 
 cre of the Hebrews had been resolved by the Cabinet " 
 (Charles Lamb). 
 
 Duration of Action. Various attempts have been made 
 to calculate the action of the play ; we know the whole is 
 supposed to last three months, but ten weeks have already 
 expired in Act III. i. ; three months have passed between 
 Bassanio's departure from Venice and his choice of the 
 
 7
 
 Preface THE MERCHANT 
 
 caskets ; his stay at Belmont before the opening of Act 
 III. ii. cannot have been long; Portia bids him ' pause a 
 day or two. ... I would detain you here some month or 
 two.' So many events have, however, happened during 
 the first two Acts that one gets the impression that many 
 weeks have passed, and the three months are compressed 
 into seven or eight days. Daniel (Time-Analysis of the 
 Plots of Shakespere's plays) computes the time thus, 
 though one cannot follow him in making Bassanio's so- 
 journ at Belmont last as long as three months : — Day I, 
 Act I. ; interval — say a week. Day 2, Act II. i.-vii. ; inter- 
 val one day. Day 3, Act II. viii.-ix. ; interval — bringing 
 the time to within a fortnight of the maturity of the bond. 
 Day 4, Act III. i. ; interval — rather more than a fortnight. 
 Day 5, Act III. ii.-iv. Day 6, Act III. v. ; Act IV. Days 
 7 and 8, Act V.
 
 OF VENICE 
 
 Critical Comments. 
 
 i. 
 
 Argument. 
 
 I. Antonio, a merchant of Venice, has many dear 
 friends who are beholden to him for his good qualities ; 
 but most of all he loves Bassanio, for whom he would 
 make any sacrifice. Bassanio is in love with Portia, a 
 wise and wealthy lady, but since he lacks worldly means 
 wherewith to press his suit, he is constrained to borrow 
 of his friend Antonio three thousand ducats ere he can 
 visit her. Antonio's wealth is entirely represented, just 
 then, by various ships at sea. However, he bethinks 
 himself of a Jewish money-lender named Shylock, who 
 lends him the money, under agreement that Antonio 
 shall forfeit a pound of his flesh in default of payment 
 on the day his bond falls due. 
 
 II. Although the Jew stipulates this forfeiture in 
 seeming jest, he is nevertheless deeply in earnest, for 
 he has long held a grudge against Antonio ; and his 
 rancour is strengthened at this juncture by the elope- 
 ment of his only daughter, Jessica, with Lorenzo, an- 
 other of Antonio's friends. 
 
 Before Portia's father died he made a curious pro- 
 vision in his will concerning her marriage, whereby her 
 hand was to be given to the suitor who should choose 
 that one of three caskets — respectively of gold, silver, 
 and lead — containing her portrait. The choice of cas- 
 kets baffles more than one. 
 
 III. Bassanio arrives at Portia's house, and, much to 
 her delight, rightly chooses the leaden casket. They plight
 
 Comments THE MERCHANT 
 
 their troth. But Bassanio's joy is overcast by the re- 
 ceipt of a letter from Antonio, advising him of the loss 
 of the merchant's cargoes by shipwreck; and that the 
 Jew is insistent upon the letter of his bond. Bassanio 
 hastens back to his friend's succour. Portia privately 
 resolves to be at the trial of Antonio. 
 
 IV. Portia obtains from a kinsman the costume of a 
 doctor of laws, investigates Antonio's case thoroughly, 
 and appears at the trial before the Duke of Venice. In 
 her disguise she is not recognized, even by her husband. 
 She pleads the cause of Antonio with such eloquence 
 and logic that Shylock not only loses his case, but also 
 has his property confiscated for plotting against the 
 life of a Venetian. The sentence against him is miti- 
 gated sufficiently to allow him to will his property to 
 Jessica. Bassanio, overjoyed at his friend's victory, 
 wishes to bestow upon the supposed lawyer the original 
 sum of three thousand ducats as a fee. But Portia re- 
 fuses it, and desires only a ring from Bassanio's finger. 
 It was the ring she had given him when they exchanged 
 vows, and he had sworn to keep it. He reluctantly gives 
 it to the fair advocate. 
 
 V. Portia's maid, Nerissa — newly wedded to Gra- 
 tiano, a friend of Bassanio — had accompanied Portia to 
 the trial in the guise of a clerk. She also had won back 
 from her husband her engagement ring. When he re- 
 turns with Bassanio to Portia's home, Nerissa feigns 
 a very pretty quarrel with him for giving away the ring. 
 Portia, overhearing the quarrel, points out her own hus- 
 band as a worthier example of faithfulness ; and affects 
 much choler when his ring also is not to be found. A 
 general explanation untangles the amusing snarl of 
 events, and brings joy to every heart — even to that of 
 the honest Merchant of Venice, who hears of the safe 
 arrival of three of his ships. 
 
 McSpadden: Shakespearian Synopses. 
 
 10
 
 OF VENICE Comments 
 
 II. 
 Shylock. 
 
 The central figure of [The Merchant of Venice], in the 
 eyes of modern readers and spectators, is of course Shy- 
 lock, though there can be no doubt that he appeared 
 to Shakespeare's contemporaries a comic personage, 
 and, since he makes his final exit before the last act, 
 by no means the protagonist. In the humaner view of 
 a later age, Shylock appears as a half-pathetic creation, 
 a scapegoat, a victim; to the Elizabethan public, with 
 his rapacity and his miserliness, his usury, and his eager- 
 ness to dig for another the pit into which he himself 
 falls, he seemed, not terrible, but ludicrous. They did 
 not even take him seriously enough to feel any real un- 
 easiness as to Antonio's fate, since they all knew before- 
 hand the issue of the adventure. They laughed when 
 he went to Bassanio's feast " in hate, to feed upon the 
 prodigal Christian"; they laughed when, in the scene 
 with Tubal, he suffered himself to be bandied about be- 
 tween exultation over Antonio's misfortunes and rage 
 over the prodigality of his runaway daughter; and they 
 found him odious when he exclaimed, " I would my 
 daughter were dead at my foot and the jewels in her 
 ear!" He was, simply as a Jew, a despised creature; 
 he belonged to the race which had crucified God himself; 
 and he was doubly despised as an extortionate usurer. 
 For the rest, the English public — like the Norwegian 
 public so lately as the first half of this century — had no 
 acquaintance with Jews except in books and on the 
 stage. From 1290 until the middle of the seventeenth 
 century the Jews were entirely excluded from England. 
 Every prejudice against them was free to flourish un- 
 checked. 
 
 Did Shakespeare in a certain measure share these re- 
 ligious prejudices, as he seems to have shared the pa- 
 triotic prejudices against the Maid of Orleans, if, indeed, 
 
 11
 
 Comments THE MERCHANT 
 
 he is responsible for the part she plays in Henry VI.? 
 We may be sure that he was very slightly affected by 
 them, if at all. Had he made a more undisguised effort 
 to place himself at Shyloek's standpoint, the censor- 
 ship, on the one hand, would have intervened, while, on 
 the other hand, the public would have been bewildered 
 and alienated. It is quite in the spirit of the age that 
 Shylock should suffer the punishment which befalls him. 
 To pay him out for his stiff-necked vengefulriess, he is 
 mulcted not only of the sum he lent Antonio, but of half 
 his fortune, and is finally, like Marlowe's Jew of Malta, 
 compelled to change his religion. The latter detail gives 
 something of a shock to the modern reader. But the 
 respect for personal conviction, when it conflicted with 
 orthodoxy, did not exist in Shakespeare's time. It was 
 not very long since Jews had been forced to choose 
 between kissing the crucifix and mounting the faggots; 
 and in Strasburg, in 1349, nine hundred of them had in 
 one day chosen the latter alternative. It is strange to 
 reflect, too, that just at the time when, on the English 
 stage, one Mediterranean Jew was poisoning his daugh- 
 ter, and another whetting his knife to cut his debtor's 
 flesh, thousands of heroic and enthusiastic Hebrews in 
 Spain and Portugal, who, after the expulsion of the 
 300,000 at the beginning of the century, had secretly 
 remained faithful to Judaism, were suffering themselves 
 to be tortured, flayed, and burnt alive by the Inquisition, 
 rather than forswear the religion of their race. . . . 
 But what is most surprising, doubtless, is the instinct 
 of genius with which Shakespeare has seized upon and 
 reproduced racial characteristics, and emphasized what 
 is peculiarly Jewish in Shylock's culture. While Mar- 
 lowe, according to his custom, made his Barabas revel 
 in mythological similes, Shakespeare indicates that Shy- 
 lock's culture is founded entirely upon the Old Testa- 
 ment, and makes commerce his only point of contact 
 with the civilisation of later times. All his parallels are 
 drawn from the Patriarchs and the Prophets. With what 
 
 12
 
 OF VENICE Comments 
 
 unction he speaks when he justifies himself by the ex- 
 ample of Jacob! His own race is always " our sacred 
 nation," and he feels that " the curse has never fallen 
 upon it " until his daughter fled with his treasures. Jew- 
 ish, too, is Shylock's respect for, and obstinate insistence 
 on, the letter of the law, his reliance upon statutory 
 rights, which are, indeed, the only rights society allows 
 him, and the partly instinctive, partly defiant restriction 
 of his moral ideas to the principle of retribution. He 
 is no wild animal; he is no heathen who simply gives 
 the rein to his natural instincts; his hatred is not un- 
 governed; he restrains it within its legal rights, like a 
 tiger in its cage. He is entirely lacking, indeed, in the 
 freedom and serenity, the easy-going, light-hearted care- 
 lessness which characterises a ruling caste in its virtues 
 and its vices, in its charities as in its prodigalities; but he 
 has not a single twinge of conscience about anything 
 that he does; his actions are in perfect harmony with his 
 ideals. 
 
 Sundered from the regions, the social forms, the lan- 
 guage, in which his spirit is at home, he has yet retained 
 his Oriental character. Passion is the kernel of his 
 nature. It is his passion that has enriched him; he is 
 passionate in action, in calculation, in sensation, in 
 hatred, in revenge, in everything. His vengefulness is 
 many times greater than his rapacity. Avaricious 
 though he be, money is nothing to him in comparison 
 with revenge. It is not until he is exasperated by his 
 daughter's robbery and flight that he takes such hard 
 measures against Antonio, and refuses to accept three 
 times the amount of the loan. His conception of honour 
 may be unchivalrous enough, but, such as it is, his 
 honour is not to be bought for money. His hatred of 
 Antonio is far more intense than his love for his jewels; 
 and it is this passionate hatred, not avarice, that makes 
 him the monster he becomes. 
 
 From this Hebrew passionateness, which can be traced 
 
 even in details of diction, arises, among other things, 
 
 • «• . 
 13
 
 Comments THE MERCHANT 
 
 his loathing of sloth and idleness. To realise how es- 
 sentially Jewish is this trait, we need only refer to the 
 so-called Proverbs of Solomon. Shylock dismisses 
 Launcelot with the words, " Drones hive not with me." 
 Oriental, rather than specially Jewish, are the images in 
 which he gives his passion utterance, approaching, as 
 they so often do, to the parable form. (See, for example, 
 his appeal to Jacob's cunning, or the speech in vindica- 
 tion of his claim, which begins, •" You have among you 
 many a purchased slave.") Specially Jewish, on the 
 other hand, is the way in which this ardent passion 
 throughout employs its images and parables in the 
 service of a curiously sober rationalism, so that a sharp 
 and biting logic, which retorts every accusation with 
 interest, is always the controlling force. This sober 
 logic, moreover, never lacks dramatic impetus. Shy- 
 lock's course of thought perpetually takes the form of 
 question and answer, a subordinate but characteristic 
 trait which appears in the style of the Old Testament, 
 and reappears to this day in representations of primitive 
 Jews. One can feel through his words that there is a 
 chanting quality in his voice; his movements are rapid, 
 his gestures large. Externally and internally, to the 
 inmost fibre of his being, he is a type of his race in its 
 degradation. 
 
 Shylock disappears with the end of the fourth act in 
 order that no discord may mar the harmony of the con- 
 cluding scenes. By means of his fifth act, Shakespeare 
 dissipates any preponderance of pain and gloom in the 
 general impression of the play. 
 
 Brandes: William Shakespeare. 
 
 III. 
 
 Portia. 
 
 In the elements which compose the character of Por- 
 tia, Shakspeare anticipated, but without intention, the 
 
 14
 
 OF VENICE Comments 
 
 intellect of those modern women who can wield so 
 gracefully many of the tools which have been hitherto 
 monopolized by men. But the same genius which en- 
 dowed her with a large and keen intelligence derived it 
 from her sex, and, for the sake of it, he did not sacrifice 
 one trait of her essential womanliness. This commands 
 our attention very strongly; for it is the clew which 
 we must start with. 
 
 She is still a woman to the core of her beauty-loving 
 heart. Coming home from the great scene in Venice, 
 where she baffles Shylock, and swamps with sudden 
 justice the scales that were so eager for the bonded flesh, 
 she loiters in the moonlight, marks the music which is 
 floating from her palace to be caressed by the night and 
 made sweeter than by day. Her listening ear is modu- 
 lated by all the tenderness she feels and the love she 
 expects; so she gives the music the color of a soul that 
 has come home to wife and motherhood, till her thoughts 
 put such a strain upon the vibrating strings that they 
 grow too tense, and threaten to divulge her delicate 
 secret. . . . 
 
 Portia has the strong sense to expect that the majority 
 of her noble admirers will be taken by appearance. She 
 is not quite sure, but has an instinct, that these gentle- 
 men who are after her are also after her pretty property 
 of Belmont, and will be likely to choose the metals re- 
 sponsive to this temper. Bassanio frankly acknowledges 
 to a friend that he would like to repair his broken for- 
 tunes ; but Shakspeare shows him to be a lover before 
 he gives this mercenary hint; and he has reason to 
 surmise that Portia loves him. This unspoken mutuality 
 dignifies his quest; as if Shakspeare himself would not 
 admit the charge that he is a fortune-hunter. And it- is 
 noticeable how little consequence we attach to Bas- 
 sanio's character. We do not care to see him in any 
 action, or to have him show a worthiness to be Portia's 
 lover. He is but the lay-figure of her love: there is so 
 much of her that there must be a great deal of him, and 
 
 15
 
 Comments THE MERCHANT 
 
 he may be spared the trouble of appearing at full length. 
 And we never suspect her of belonging to that tribe of 
 bright women who, either from instinct or calculation, 
 marry good-natured, well-mannered numskulls, and 
 never have reason to sue for a divorce. Shakspeare 
 ennobles Bassanio when the divining soul sees through 
 the leaden lid. 
 
 But what if one of the other suitors should also have 
 a noble heart whose pulses feed discernment, one as fine 
 and unconventional as herself! There is just hazard 
 enough to affront her cherishing of the absent Bassanio. 
 She does not relish the moment when her heart, richer 
 than the princes know of, goes into the lottery. How- 
 ever, when her father made his will, it doubtless occurred 
 to her that his choice of metals came from a life's 
 experience of the calibre of the average man, and was 
 meant affectionately to protect her till the true gentle- 
 man should come. As Nerissa says, " Your father was 
 ever virtuous; and holy men, at their death, have good 
 inspirations; therefore, the lottery that he hath devised 
 in these three chests, of gold, silver, and lead (whereof 
 who chooses his meaning chooses you) will, no doubt, 
 never be chosen by any rightly but one whom you shall 
 rightly love." Fortunate is the man who wins a wife 
 because he chooses Heaven's meaning in a woman! 
 Luckless the wife who is not chosen by some implied 
 Heaven in a man! . . . 
 
 An ordinary woman might have enmeshed him in a 
 cocoon of delicate coquetries: any woman dead in love, 
 and a little less than strict to an oath, would have man- 
 aged in some way to provoke that lead casket into 
 twinkling a hint to him. But she is too honest for either. 
 A woman with a soul as tender as it is firm, here she 
 stands dismayed as Destiny is about to rattle its dice 
 upon her heart: happiness, and a future worthy of her, 
 all at stake. For though her mental resources might 
 compete with any fate, she is all woman, made to be a 
 wife, and without wifehood to feel herself at one essen- 
 
 16
 
 OF VENICE Comments 
 
 tial point impaired, — all the more defrauded because so 
 well endowed. How she clings for support to the few 
 moments that yet stand before his choice! She wishes 
 there were more of them to stay her. . . . 
 
 Now Bassanio, who lives upon the rack, denies her 
 plea for delay: "Let me to my fortune and the cas- 
 kets." How profoundly she surmises that music might 
 lull the watching Fate, so that he could pass to his 
 Eurydice! She bids the music play: — 
 
 " As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 
 And summon him to marriage." 
 
 Bassanio must be attempered to his choice; the song's 
 key must have an instinct for the proper casket's key. 
 Unconsciously she breaks her oath; for what benign 
 influence selected the song that is now sung? Some 
 star, whose tenant was her father? Or was it Nerissa's 
 doing, who determined to convey a hint to the lover? 
 Or did Gratiano hit upon it, who had got from Nerissa 
 a promise of her love if the choice went to suit her? A 
 hint, indeed! It is the very breadth of broadness, and 
 a lover is not dull. . . . 
 
 When Portia's heart unties the spasm of joy that 
 tightened round it at Bassanio's choice, it beats again 
 with the grave and sweet dignity that is as native to her 
 as her playful wit. Her mind recognizes the serious 
 change that must befall her fortune: in the first moment 
 of it there comes a dee'p humility that makes her speech 
 kneel at the feet of the man whom she will marry. 
 For her great superiority is free from the taint of con- 
 ceit, save " a noble and a true conceit of godlike 
 amity." . . . 
 
 So Portia, who could, when it was needed, " turn two 
 mincing steps into a manly stride," doffs the lawyer's 
 robe, and, returning, is met by music and conducted to 
 a palace that was not till then a home. 
 
 Weiss: Wit, Humor, and Shakspcare. 
 
 *7
 
 Comments THE MERCHANT 
 
 IV. 
 Antonio. 
 
 Viewing the persons severally, it seems that the piece 
 ought by all means to be called The Jew of Venice. But 
 upon looking further into the principles of dramatic 
 combination, we may easily discover cause why it should 
 rather be named as it is. For if the Jew be the most 
 important person individually, the Merchant is so dra- 
 matically. Thus it is the laws of art, not of individual 
 delineation, that entitle Antonio to the pre-eminence, be- 
 cause, however inferior in himself, he is the centre and 
 mainspring of the entire action: without him the Jew, 
 great as he is in himself, had no business there; whereas 
 the converse, if true at all, is by no means true in so 
 great a degree. 
 
 Not indeed that the Merchant is a small matter in him- 
 self; far from it: he is every way a most interesting 
 and attractive personage; insomuch that even Shylock 
 away, still there were timber enough in him for a good 
 dramatic hero. A peculiar interest attaches to him from 
 the state of mind in which we first see him. He is deeply 
 sad, not knowing wherefore: a dim, mysterious presage 
 of evil weighs down his spirits, as though he felt afar 
 off the coming on of some great calamity; yet this 
 strange unwonted gloom, sweetened with his habitual 
 gentleness and good-nature, has^ the effect of showing 
 • how dearly he is held by such whose friendship is the 
 fairest earthly purchase of virtue. This boding, presenti- 
 mental state of mind lends a certain charm to his char- 
 acter, affecting us something as an instance of second- 
 sight, and coalescing with the mind's innate aptitude to 
 the faith that 
 
 "powers there are 
 That touch each other to the quick — in modes 
 Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive, 
 No soul to dream of." 
 
 18
 
 OF VENICE Comments 
 
 And it is very considerable that upon spirits such as he 
 even the smiles of fortune often have a strangely sad- 
 dening effect ; for in proportion as they are worthy of 
 them they naturally feel that they are far otherwise, and 
 the sense of so vast a discrepancy between their havings 
 and deservings is apt to fill them with an indefinable 
 oppressive dread of some reverse wherein present dis- 
 crepancies shall be fully made up. So that wealth seldom 
 dispenses such warnings save to its most virtuous pos- 
 sessors. And such is Antonio: a kind-hearted, sweet- 
 mannered man; of a large and liberal spirit; affable, gen- 
 erous, and magnificent in his dispositions; patient of 
 trial, indulgent to folly, free where he loves, and frank 
 where he hates; in prosperity modest, in adversity cheer- 
 ful; craving wealth for the uses of virtue, and as the 
 organs and sinews of friendship, so that the more he is 
 worth, the more he seems worthy — his character is one 
 which we never weary of contemplating. The only 
 blemish we perceive in him is his treatment of Shylock: 
 in this, though we cannot but see that it is much more 
 the fault of the times than of the man, we are forced to 
 side against him; than which it were not easy to allege 
 a stronger case of poetical justice. Yet even this we 
 blame rather as an abuse of himself than of Shylock, 
 and think the less of it as wronging the latter, be- 
 cause, notwithstanding he has such provocations, he 
 avowedly grounds his hate mainly on those very things 
 which make the strongest title to a good man's love. 
 Hudson: The Works of Shakespeare. 
 
 V. 
 
 Antonio's Friends. 
 
 The friendship between Antonio and his companions 
 is such a picture as Shakespeare evidently delighted to 
 draw. And so noble a sentiment is not apt to inhabit 
 
 19
 
 Comments THE MERCHANT 
 
 ignoble breasts. Bassanio, Gratiano, and Salarino are 
 each admirable in their way, and give a charming variety 
 to the scenes where they move. Bassanio, though some- 
 thing too lavish of purse, is a model of a gentleman; 
 in whose character and behaviour all is order and pro- 
 priety; with whom good manners are the proper out- 
 side and visibility of a fair mind, the natural foliage 
 and drapery of inward refinement, and delicacy, and 
 rectitude. Well-bred, he has that in him which, even 
 had his breeding been ill, would have raised him above 
 it, and made him a gentleman. Gratiano and Salarino 
 are two as clever, sprightly, and voluble persons as any 
 one need desire to be with, the chief difference between 
 them being, that the former lets his tongue run on from 
 good impulses, the other makes it do so for good ends. 
 If not so wise as Bassanio, they are more witty, and 
 as much surpass him in strength, as they fall short in 
 beauty, of character. It is observable that of the two 
 Gratiano is the more heedless and headstrong in thought 
 and speech, with less subjection of the individual to 
 the well-ordered forms of social decorum; so that, if 
 he behave not quite so well as the others, he gives livelier 
 proof that what good behaviour he has is his own; a 
 growth from within, not an impression from without. 
 It is rather remarkable that one so talkative and rattle- 
 tongued should therewithal carry so much weight of 
 meaning; and he often seems less sensible than he is, 
 because of his trotting volubility. But he has no wish 
 to be " reputed wise for saying nothing"; and he often 
 makes a merit of talking nonsense when, as is often the 
 case, nonsense is the best sort of sense; being willing to 
 incur the charge of folly, provided he can thereby add 
 to the health and entertainment of his friends. 
 
 Hudson : The Works of Shakespeare. 
 
 20
 
 OF VENICE Comments 
 
 VI. 
 Jessica and Nerissa. 
 
 It is observable that something of the intellectual bril- 
 liance of Portia is reflected on the other female char- 
 acters of The Merchant of Venice so as to preserve in 
 the midst of contrast a certain harmony and keeping. 
 Thus Jessica, though properly kept subordinate, is cer- 
 tainly 
 
 A most beautiful pagan — a most sweet Jew. 
 
 She cannot be called a sketch — or if a sketch, she is like 
 one of those dashed off in glowing colours from the 
 rainbow palette of a Rubens; she has a rich tinge of 
 Orientalism shed over her, worthy of her Eastern origin. 
 In another play, and in any other companionship than 
 that of the matchless Portia, Jessica would make a very 
 beautiful heroine of herself. Nothing can be more 
 poetically, more classically fanciful and elegant than 
 the scenes between her and Lorenzo — the celebrated 
 moonlight dialogue, for instance, which we all have by 
 heart. Every sentiment she utters interests us for her 
 —more particularly her bashful self-reproach, when fly- 
 ing in the disguise of a page : — 
 
 I am glad 'tis night, you do not look upon me, 
 For I am much asham'd of my exchange; 
 But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
 The pretty follies that themselves commit; 
 For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
 To see me thus transformed to a boy. 
 
 And the enthusiastic and generous testimony to the 
 superior graces and accomplishments of Portia comes 
 with a peculiar grace from her lips : — 
 
 Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match, 
 And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
 And Portia one, there must be something else 
 Pawned with the other ; for the poor rude world 
 Hath not her fellow.
 
 Comments THE MERCHANT 
 
 We should not, however, easily pardon her for cheating 
 her father with so much indifference but for the per- 
 ception that Shylock values his daughter far beneath 
 his wealth : — 
 
 I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in 
 her ear ! — would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in 
 her coffin i 
 
 Nerissa is a good specimen of a common genus of 
 characters; she is a clever confidential waiting-woman, 
 who has caught a little of her lady's elegance and 
 romance; she affects to be lively and sententious, falls 
 in love, and makes her favour conditional on the fortune 
 of the caskets, and, in short, mimics her mistress with 
 good emphasis and discretion. Nerissa and the gay, 
 talkative Gratiano are as well matched as the incom- 
 parable Portia and her magnificent and captivating 
 lover. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson : Characteristics of Women. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Dramatic Workmanship of the Play. 
 
 In the exhibition of Shakespeare as an Artist, it is 
 natural to begin with the raw material which he worked 
 up into finished masterpieces. For illustration of this 
 no play could be more suitable than The Merchant of 
 Venice, in which two tales, already familiar in the story 
 form, have been woven together into a single plot: the 
 Story of the Cruel Jew, who entered into a bond with 
 his enemy of which the forfeit was to be a pound of 
 this enemy's own flesh, and the Story of the Heiress and 
 the Caskets. . . . 
 
 The avoidance or reduction of difficulties in a story 
 is an obvious element in any kind of artistic handling; 
 it is of special importance in Drama in proportion as 
 we are more sensitive to improbabilities in what is sup- 
 posed to take place before our eyes than in what we 
 
 22
 
 OF VENICE Comments 
 
 merely hear of by narrative. This branch of art could not 
 be better illustrated than in the Story of the Jew: never 
 perhaps has an artist had to deal with materials so 
 bristling with difficulties of the greatest magnitude, and 
 never, it may be added, have they been met with greater 
 ingenuity. The host of improbabilities gathering about 
 such a detail as the pound of flesh must strike every 
 mind. There is, however, preliminary to these, another 
 difficulty of more general application: the difficulty of 
 painting a character bad enough to be the hero of the 
 story. It might be thought that to paint excess of bad- 
 ness is comparatively easy, as needing but a coarse 
 brush. On the contrary, there are fewer severer tests 
 of creative power than the treatment of monstrosity. 
 To be told that there is villainy in the w T orld and tacitly 
 to accept the statement may be easy; it is another thing 
 to be brought into close contact with the villains, to 
 hear them converse, to watch their actions, and occasion- 
 ally to be taken into their confidence. We realise in 
 Drama through our sympathy and our experience: in 
 real life we have not been accustomed to come across 
 monsters and are unfamiliar with their behaviour; in 
 proportion then as the badness of a character is ex- 
 aggerated it is carried outside the sphere of our ex- 
 perience, the naturalness of the scene is interrupted and 
 its human interest tends to decline. So, in the case of 
 the story under consideration, the dramatist is con- 
 fronted with this dilemma: he must make the character 
 of Shylock absolutely bad, or the incident of the bond 
 will appear unreal; he must not make the character ex- 
 traordinarily bad, or there is danger of the whole scene 
 appearing unreal. . . . 
 
 It is easy to see how the whole movement of the play 
 rises naturally out of the union of the two stories. One 
 of the main distinctions between the progress of events 
 in real life or history and in Drama is that the move- 
 ment of a drama falls into the form technically known 
 as Complication and Resolution. A dramatist fastens 
 
 23
 
 Comments 
 
 our attention upon some train of events: then he sets 
 himself to divert this train of events from its natural 
 course by some interruption; this interruption is either 
 removed, and the train of events returns to its natural 
 course, or the interruption is carried on to some tragic 
 culmination. In The Merchant of Venice our interest is 
 at the beginning fixed on Antonio as rich, high-placed, 
 the protector and benefactor of his friends. By the 
 events following upon the incident of the bond we see 
 what would seem the natural life of Antonio diverted 
 into a totally different channel; in the end the whole 
 course is restored, and Antonio becomes prosperous 
 as before. Such interruption of a train of incidents is 
 its Complication, and the term Complication suggests 
 a happy Resolution to follow. Complication and Reso- 
 lution are essential to dramatic movement, as discords 
 and their " resolution " into concords constitute the 
 essence of music. The Complication and Resolution in 
 the story of the Jew serve for the Complication and 
 Resolution of the drama as a whole; and my immediate 
 point is that these elements of movement in the one 
 story spring directly out of its connection with the other. 
 But for Bassanio's need of money and his blunder in 
 applying to Shylock the bond would never have been 
 entered into, and the change in Antonio's fortunes would 
 never have come about: thus the cause for all the Com- 
 plication of the play (technically, the Complicating 
 Force) is the happy lover of the Caskets Story. Simi- 
 larly Portia is the means by which Antonio's fortunes 
 are restored to their natural flow: in other words, the 
 source of the Resolution (or Resolving Force) is the 
 maiden of the Caskets Story. , The two leading per- 
 sonages of the one tale are the sources respectively of 
 the Complication and Resolution in the other tale, which 
 carry the Complication and Resolution of the drama 
 as a whole. Thus simply does the movement of the 
 whole play flow from the union of the two stories. 
 
 Moulton : Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist. 
 
 24
 
 The earliest authentic representation of Venice known to exist. 
 From the Romance of Alexander in the Bodleian Library (XlVth Cent.). 
 
 25
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONAE. 
 
 } 
 
 The Duke of Venice. 
 
 The Prince of Morocco, 
 
 t t> A (- suitors to Portia. 
 
 The Prince of Arragon, 
 
 Antonio, a merchant of Venice. 
 
 Bassanio, his friend, suitor likewise to Portia. 
 
 Salanio, 
 
 _ ' Y friends to Antonio and Bassanio. 
 
 Gratiano, 
 
 Salerio, 
 
 Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. 
 
 Shylock, a rich Jew. 
 
 Tubal, a Jew, his friend. 
 
 Launcelot Gobbo, the clown, servant to Shy lock. 
 
 Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot. 
 
 Leonardo, servant to Bassanio. 
 
 Balthasar, ) 
 
 ~ y servants to Portia. 
 
 Stephano, j 
 
 Portia, a rich heiress. 
 Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 
 Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 
 
 Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, 
 Servants to Portia, and other Attendants. 
 
 Scene: Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat 
 of Portia, on the Continent. 
 
 26
 
 The Merchant of Venice. 
 
 ACT FIRST 
 Scene I. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio. 
 
 Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: 
 It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; 
 But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
 What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
 I am to learn ; 
 
 And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
 That I have much ado to know myself. 
 
 Solar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
 
 There, where your argosies with portly sail, 
 
 Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 10 
 
 Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
 
 Do overpeer the petty traffickers, 
 
 That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, 
 
 As they fly by them with their woven wings. 
 
 Salan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
 The better part of my affections would 
 Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
 Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind ; 
 Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads ; 
 And every object, that might make me fear 20 
 
 Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt 
 Would make me sad. 
 
 27
 
 Act I. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, 
 
 Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
 What harm a wind too great at sea might do. 
 I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 
 But I should think of shallows and of flat!, 
 And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand 
 Vailing her high top lower than her ribs 
 To kiss her burial. Should I go to church 
 And see the holy edifice of stone, 30 
 
 And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, 
 Which touching but my gentle vessel's side 
 Would scatter all her spices on the stream, 
 Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks ; 
 And, in a word, but even now worth this, 
 And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the thought 
 To think on this ; and shall I lack the thought, 
 That such a thing bechanced would make me sad ? 
 But tell not me ; I know, Antonio 
 Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 40 
 
 Ant. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune for it, 
 My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
 Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate 
 Upon the fortune of this present year : 
 Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 
 
 Salar. Why, then you are in love. 
 
 Ant. Fj,e, fie! 
 
 Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us say you are 
 sad, 
 Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
 For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are merry, 
 Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed 
 Janus, 50 
 
 Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time : 
 
 28
 
 OF VENICE Act I. Sc. i. 
 
 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, 
 
 And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper ; 
 
 And other of such vinegar aspect, 
 
 That they '11 not show their teeth in way of smile, 
 
 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 
 
 Salem. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
 Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well : 
 We leave you now with better company. 
 
 Salar. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, 60 
 If worthier friends had not prevented me. 
 
 Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
 I take it, your own business calls on you, 
 And you embrace the occasion to depart. 
 
 Salar. Good morrow, my good lords. 
 
 Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh ? say, 
 when ? 
 You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 
 
 Salar. We '11 make our leisures to attend on yours. 
 
 [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 
 
 Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, 
 We two will leave you : but, at dinner-time, 70 
 
 I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 
 
 Bass. I will not fail you. 
 
 Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio ; 
 
 You have too much respect upon the world : 
 They lose it that do buy it with much care : 
 Believe me, you are marvellously changed. 
 
 Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
 A stage, where every man must play a part, 
 And mine a sad one. 
 
 29
 
 Act I. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Gra. Let me play the fool : 
 
 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 80 
 
 And let my liver rather heat with wine 
 
 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
 
 Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
 
 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 
 
 Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice 
 
 By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio — 
 
 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, — 
 
 There are a sort of men, whose visages 
 
 Do cream and mantle like a standing pond ; 
 
 And do a wilful stillness entertain, 90 
 
 With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
 
 Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; 
 
 As who should say, ' I am Sir Oracle, 
 
 And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! ' 
 
 my Antonio, I do know of these, 
 That therefore only are reputed wise 
 
 For saying nothing ; when, I am very sure, 
 
 If they should speak, would almost damn those 
 
 ears, 
 Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 
 
 1 '11 tell thee more of this another time : 100 
 But fish not, with this melancholy bait, 
 
 For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. 
 
 Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile : 
 
 I '11 end my exhortation after dinner. 
 Lor. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner-time : 
 
 I must be one of these same dumb wise men, 
 
 For Gratiano never lets me speak. 
 Gra. Well, keep me company but two years moe, 
 
 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 
 Ant. Farewell: I '11 grow a talker for this gear. no 
 
 30
 
 OF VENICE Act I. Sc. i. 
 
 Gra. Thanks, i' faith ; for silence is only commendable 
 In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. 
 
 [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorcnzc. 
 
 Ant. Is that any thing now ? 
 
 Bass. 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. 
 
 Ant. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same 120 
 
 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 
 That you to-day promised to tell me of ? 
 
 Bass. Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
 
 How much I have disabled mine estate, 
 
 By something showing a more swelling port 
 
 Than my faint means would grant continuance : 
 
 Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 
 
 From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
 
 Is, to come fairly off from the great debts, 
 
 Wherein my time, something too prodigal, 130 
 
 Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 
 
 I owe the most, in money and in love ; 
 
 And from your love I have a warranty 
 
 To unburthen all my plots and purposes 
 
 How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 
 
 Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ; 
 And if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
 Within the eye of honour, be assured, 
 My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
 Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. 140 
 
 Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 
 
 31
 
 Act I. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 I shot his fellow of the self-same flight 
 
 The self-same way with more advised watch, 
 
 To find the other forth ; and by adventuring both, 
 
 I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof, 
 
 Because what follows is pure innocence. 
 
 I owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth, 
 
 That which I owe is lost : but if you please 
 
 To shoot another arrow that self way 
 
 Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 150 
 
 As I will watch the aim, or to find both, 
 
 Or bring your latter hazard back again 
 
 And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 
 
 Ant. You know me well ; and herein spend but time 
 To wind about my love with circumstance ; 
 And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
 In making question of my uttermost, 
 Than if you had made waste of all I have : 
 Then do but say to me what I should do, 
 That in your knowledge may by me be done, 16c 
 
 And I am prest unto it : therefore, speak. 
 
 Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left ; 
 
 And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, 
 
 Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes 
 
 I did receive fair speechless messages : 
 
 Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued 
 
 To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia : 
 
 Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
 
 For the four winds blow in from every coast 
 
 Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks 170 
 
 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 
 
 Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strond, 
 
 And many Jasons come in quest of her. 
 
 32
 
 OF VENICE Act I. Sc. ii. 
 
 my Antonio, had I but the means 
 To hold a rival place with one of them, 
 
 1 have a mind presages me such thrift, 
 That I should questionless be fortunate ! 
 
 Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea ; 
 Neither have I money, nor commodity 
 To raise a present sum : thereforth go forth ; 180 
 
 Try what my credit can in Venice do : 
 That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
 To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
 Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 
 Where morley is ; and I no question make, 
 To have it of my trust, or for my sake. f Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 For. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary 
 of this great world. 
 
 Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries 
 were in the same abundance as your good for- 
 tunes are : and yet, for aught I see, they are as 
 sick that surfeit with too much, as they that 
 starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness, 
 therefore, to be seated in the mean : superfluity 
 comes sooner by white hairs ; but competency 
 lives longer. 10 
 
 Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 
 
 Ner. They would be better, if well followed. 
 
 Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were 
 
 33
 
 Act I. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor 
 men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good 
 divine that follows his own instructions : I can 
 easier teach twenty what were good to be done, 
 than be one of the twenty to follow mine own 
 teaching. The brain may devise laws for the 
 blood; but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold de- 20 
 cree : such a hare is madness the youth, to skip 
 o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But 
 this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me 
 a husband. O me, the word ' choose ' ! I may 
 neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom 
 I dislike ; so is the will of a living daughter 
 curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it not 
 hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor 
 refuse none ? 
 
 Ncr. Your father was ever virtuous ; and holy men, 30 
 at their death, have good inspirations : therefore, 
 the lottery, that he hath devised in these three 
 chests of gold, silver, and lead, — whereof who 
 chooses his meaning chooses you, — will, no 
 doubt, never be chosen by any rightly, but one 
 who shall rightly love. But what warmth is 
 there in your affection towards any of these 
 princely suitors that are already come? 
 
 Por. I pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou 
 
 namest them, I will describe them ; and, accord- 40 
 ing to my description, level at my affection. 
 
 Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 
 
 Por. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing 
 but talk of his horse; and he makes it a great 
 appropriation to his own good parts, that he can 
 
 34
 
 OF VENICE Act I. Sc. ii. 
 
 shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady 
 his mother played false with a smith. 
 
 Ner, Then there is the County Palatine. 
 
 For. He doth nothing but frown; as who should 
 
 say, ' if you will not have me, choose : ' he hears 50 
 merry tales and smiles not : I fear he will prove 
 the weeping philosopher when he grows old, 
 being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. 
 I had rather be married to a death's-head with a 
 bone in his mouth than to either of these. God 
 defend me from these two! 
 
 Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le 
 Bon? 
 
 For. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a 
 
 man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker : 60 
 but, he ! — why, he hath a horse better than the 
 Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning 
 than the Count Palatine : he is every man in no 
 man ; if a throstle sing, he falls straight a ca- 
 pering: he will fence with his own shadow: if 
 I should marry him, I should marry twenty hus- 
 bands. If he would despise me, I would forgive 
 him; for if he love me to madness, I shall never 
 requite him. 
 
 Ner. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young 70 
 baron of England? 
 
 For. You know I say nothing to him ; for he under- 
 stands not me, nor I him : he hath neither Latin, 
 French, nor Italian ; and you will come into the 
 court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth 
 in the English. He is a proper man's picture; 
 but, alas, who can converse with a dumb-show? 
 
 35
 
 Act I. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 How oddly he is suited ! I think he bought his 
 doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his 
 bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every 80 
 where. 
 
 Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neigh- 
 bour? 
 
 Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ; for 
 he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, 
 and swore he would pay him again when he was 
 able : I think the Frenchman became his surety, 
 and sealed under for another. 
 
 Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke of 
 
 Saxony's nephew? , 90 
 
 Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober ; 
 and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is 
 drunk : when he is best, he is a little worse than 
 a man ; and when he is worst, he is little better 
 than a beast: an the worst fall that ever fell, 
 I hope I shall make shift to go without him. 
 
 Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the 
 right casket, you should refuse to perform your 
 father's will, if you should refuse to accept him. 
 
 Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, 100 
 set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary 
 casket ; for, if the devil be within and that temp- 
 tation without, I know he will choose it. I will 
 do anything, Nerissa, ere I '11 be married to a 
 sponge. 
 
 Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of 
 these lords : they have acquainted me with their 
 determinations ; which is, indeed, to return to 
 their home, and to trouble you with no more 
 
 36
 
 OF VENICE Act I. Sc. ii. 
 
 , suit, unless you may be won by some other sort no 
 than your father's imposition, depending on the 
 caskets. 
 
 Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as 
 chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the man- 
 ner of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of 
 wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one 
 among them but I dote on his very absence ; and 
 I pray God grant them a fair departure. 
 
 Ner, Do you not remember, lady, in your father's 120 
 time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that 
 came hither in company of the Marquis of 
 Montf errat ? 
 
 Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think he was so 
 called. 
 
 Ner. True, madam : he, of all the men that ever my 
 foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving 
 a fair lady. 
 
 Por. I remember him well; and I remember him 
 
 worthy of thy praise. 130 
 
 Enter a Serving-man. 
 
 How now ! what news ? 
 
 Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to 
 take their leave : and there is a forerunner come 
 from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco ; who brings 
 word, the prince his master will be here to-night. 
 
 Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good 
 a heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I 
 should be glad of his approach: if he have the 
 condition of a saint and the complexion of a 
 
 37
 
 Act I. Sc. iii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 devil, I had rather he should shrive me than 140 
 wive me. 
 
 Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 
 Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another 
 knocks at the door. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Venice. A public place. 
 Enter Bassanio and Shylock. 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats ; well. 
 
 Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. 
 
 Shy. For three months ; well. 
 
 Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be 
 bound. 
 
 Shy. Antonio shall become bound ; well. 
 
 Bass. May you stead me? will you pleasure me? 
 shall I know your answer? 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and 
 
 Antonio bound. 10 
 
 Bass. Your answer to that. 
 
 Shy. Antonio is a good man. 
 
 Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the con- 
 trary ? 
 
 Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no : my meaning, in saying he is 
 a good man, is to have you understand me, that 
 he is sufficient. Yet his means are in supposi- 
 tion : he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, an- 
 other to the Indies ; I understand, moreover, 
 upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a 
 fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, 20 
 squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, 
 sailors but men : there be land-rats and water- 
 
 38
 
 OF VENICE Act I. Sc. iii. 
 
 rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I mean 
 pirates; and then there is the peril of waters, 
 winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, 
 sufficient. Three thousand ducats; I think I 
 may take his bond. 
 
 Bass. Be assured you may. 
 
 Shy. I will be assured I may; and, that I may be 
 
 assured, I will bethink me. May I speak with 30 
 Antonio ? 
 
 Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 
 
 Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation 
 which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the 
 devil into. 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? 
 Who is he comes here ? 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 40 
 
 Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks ! 
 I hate him for he is a Christian ; 
 But more for that in low simplicity 
 He lends out money gratis and brings down 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
 If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
 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, 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 50 
 Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
 If I forgive him ! 
 
 3Q
 
 Act I. Sc. iii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Bass. Shylock, do you hear ? 
 
 Shy. I am debating of my present store ; 
 And, by the near guess of my memory, 
 I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
 Of full three thousand ducats. What of that? 
 Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, 
 Will furnish me. But soft ! how many months 
 Do you desire? [To Ant.] Rest you fair, good 
 
 signior; 
 Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 60 
 
 Ant. Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow, 
 By taking nor by giving of excess, 
 Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
 I '11 break a custom. Is he yet possess'd 
 How much ye would? 
 
 Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 
 
 Ant. And for three months. 
 
 Shy. I had forgot ; three months, you told me so. 
 
 Well then, your bond ; and let me see ; but hear you ; 
 Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 
 Upon advantage. 
 
 Ant. I do never use it. 70 
 
 Shy. W T hen Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep, — 
 This Jacob from our holy Abram was, 
 As his wise mother wrought in his behalf, 
 The third possessor ; ay, he was the third, — 
 
 Ant. And what of him? did he take interest? 
 
 Shy. No, not take interest ; not, as you would say, 
 Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 
 When Laban and himself were compromised 
 That all the eanlings which were streak' d and pied 
 Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank, 80 
 
 40
 
 OF VENICE Act I. Sc. iii. 
 
 In the end of Autumn turned to the rams; 
 
 And when the work of generation was 
 
 Between these woolly breeders in the act, 
 
 The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands, 
 
 And, in the doing of the deed of kind, 
 
 He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, 
 
 Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
 
 Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. 
 
 This was a way to thrive, and he was blest : 
 
 And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 90 
 
 Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for; 
 A thing not in his power to bring to pass, 
 But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven. 
 Was this inserted to make interest good? 
 Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ? 
 
 57*3/. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast : 
 But note me, signior. 
 
 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 ; 100 
 
 A goodly apple rotten at the heart : 
 O, 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 beholding to you? 
 
 Shy, Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
 In the Rialto you have 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. no 
 
 ^ou call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
 
 41
 
 Act I. Sc. iii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
 
 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 120 
 
 ' Hath a dog money ? is it possible 
 
 A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? ' or 
 
 Shall I bend low and in a bondsman'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 '11 lend you thus much moneys ' ? 
 
 Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, 130 
 
 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 metal of his friend ? 
 But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 
 Who if he break, thou mayest 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 140 
 
 Of usance for my moneys, and you '11 not hear me : 
 This is kind I offer. 
 
 42
 
 OF VENICE Act I. Sc. iii. 
 
 Bass. 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 150 
 
 In what part of your body pleaseth me. 
 Ant. Content, i' faith : I '11 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 '11 rather dwell in my necessity. 
 Ant. Why, fear not, man; 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 Abram, what these Christians are, 160 
 
 Whose own hard dealings teaches them 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. 170 
 
 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 ; 
 
 43
 
 Act II. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 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. [Exit Shylock. 
 
 The 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; 180 
 
 My ships come home a month before the day. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 Scene I. 
 
 • Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco and 
 his train; Portia, Ncrissa, and others attending. 
 
 Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
 
 The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, 
 
 To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. 
 
 Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
 
 Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
 
 And let us make incision for your love, 
 
 To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 
 
 I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
 
 Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love, I swear 
 
 The best-regarded virgins of our clime 10 
 
 Hath loved it too : I would not change this hue, 
 
 Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 
 
 Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
 By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; 
 
 44
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. i. 
 
 Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
 
 Bars me the right of voluntary choosing : 
 
 But if my father had not scanted me 
 
 And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself 
 
 His wife who> wins me by that means I told you, 
 
 Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 20 
 
 As any comer I have look'd on yet 
 
 For my affection. 
 
 Mor. Even for that I thank you : 
 
 Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets, 
 To try my fortune. By this scimitar 
 That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince 
 That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
 I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, 
 Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 
 Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, 
 Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 30 
 
 To win thee, lady. But, alas the while ! 
 If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
 Which is the better man, the greater throw 
 May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 
 So is Alcides beaten by his page ; 
 And so may I, blind fortune leading me, 
 Miss that which one unworthier may attain, 
 And die with grieving. 
 
 Por. You must take your chance 
 
 And either not attempt to choose at all, 
 Or swear before you choose, if you choose 
 
 wrong, 40 
 
 Never to speak to lady afterward 
 In way of marriage : therefore be advised. 
 
 Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. 
 
 45
 
 Act II. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. First, forward to the temple : after dinner 
 
 Your hazard shall be made. 
 Mor. Good fortune then ! 
 
 To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 
 
 [Comets, and exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 
 Enter Launcelot. 
 
 Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run 
 from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine 
 elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, * Gobbo, 
 Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,' or ' good 
 Gobbo,' or, ' good Launcelot Gobbo, use your 
 legs, take the start, run away.' My conscience 
 says, ' No ; take heed, honest Launcelot ; take 
 heed, honest Gobbo,' or, as aforesaid, ' honest 
 Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running 
 with thy heels.' Well, the most courageous 10 
 fiend bids me pack : ' Via ! ' says the fiend ; 
 'away!' says the fiend; 'for the heavens, 
 rouse up a brave mind,' says the fiend, ' and run.' 
 Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of 
 my heart, says very wisely to me, ' My honest 
 friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son,' — 
 or rather an honest woman's son ; — for, indeed, 
 my father did something smack, something 
 grow to, he had a kind of taste ; — well, my con- 
 science says, ' Launcelot, budge not.' * Budge,' 20 
 says the fiend. ' Budge not,' says my con- 
 science. ' Conscience,' say 1/ you counsel well'; 
 
 46
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. ii. 
 
 ' Fiend/ say I, ' you counsel well '•: to be ruled 
 by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew 
 my master, who, God bless the mark, is a kind of 
 devil ; and, to run away from the Jew, I should 
 be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your rever- 
 ence, is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is 
 the very devil incarnal ; and, in my conscience, 
 my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, 30 
 to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The 
 fiend gives the more friendly counsel: I will 
 run, fiend; my heels are at your command; I 
 will run. 
 
 Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket. 
 
 Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is 
 the way to master Jew's ? 
 
 Laun. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten 
 father ! who, being more than sand-blind, high- 
 gravel blind, knows me not: I will try con- 
 fusions with him. 
 
 Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is 40 
 the way to master Jew's ? 
 
 Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next turn- 
 ing, but, at the next turning of all, on your left ; 
 marry, at the very next turning, turn of no 
 hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's 
 house. 
 
 Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. 
 Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that 
 dwells with him, dwell with him or no ? 
 
 Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? 
 
 [Aside] Mark me now ; now will I raise the 50 
 waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? 
 
 Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son : his 
 
 47
 
 Act II. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding 
 poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live. 
 
 Laun. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk 
 of young Master Launcelot. 
 
 Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 
 
 Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech 
 you, talk you of young Master Launcelot? 
 
 Gob. Of Launcelot, an 't please your mastership. 60 
 
 Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master 
 Launcelot, father; for 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. 
 
 Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very 
 staff of my age, my very prop. 
 
 Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a 
 
 staff or a prop ? Do you know me, father ? 70 
 
 Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentle- 
 man : but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God 
 rest his soul, alive or dead? 
 
 Laun. Do you not know me, father? 
 
 Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not. 
 
 Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might 
 fail of the knowing me : it is a wise father that 
 knows his own child. Well, old man, I will 
 tell you news of your son : give me your bless- 
 ing: truth will come to light; murder cannot 80 
 be hid long; a man's son may; but, at the 
 length, truth will out. 
 
 Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up : I am sure you are not 
 Launcelot, my boy. 
 
 48
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. ii. 
 
 Laun. Pray you, let 's have no more fooling about it, 
 but give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, 
 your boy that was, your son that is, your child 
 that shall be. 
 
 Gob. I cannot think you are my son. 
 
 Laun. I know not what I shall think of that: but I 
 
 am Launcelot, the Jew's man ; and I am sure 90 
 Margery your wife is my mother. 
 
 Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed : I '11 be sworn, 
 if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh 
 and blood. Lord worshipped might he be! 
 what a beard hast thou got ! thou hast got more 
 hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has 
 on his tail. 
 
 Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows 
 backward : I am sure he had more hair of his 
 tail than I have of my face when I last saw him. 100 
 
 Gob. Lord, how art thou changed ! How dost thou 
 and thy master agree? I have brought him a 
 present. How 'gree you now? 
 
 Laun. Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I 
 have set up my rest to run away, so I will not 
 rest till I have run some ground. My master 's 
 a very Jew : give him a present ! give him a 
 halter : I am famished in his service ; you may 
 tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, 
 I am glad you are come: give me your present no 
 to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare 
 new liveries: if I serve not him, I will run as 
 far as God has any ground. O rare fortune! 
 here comes the man : to him, father ; for I am 
 a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 
 
 49
 
 Act II. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo and other followers. 
 
 Bass. You may do so; but let it be so hasted, that 
 supper be ready at the farthest by five of the 
 clock. See these letters delivered; put the liv- 
 eries to making; and desire Gratiano to come 
 anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant. 120 
 
 Laun. To him, father. 
 
 Gob. God bless your worship ! 
 
 Bass. Gramercy ! wouldst thou aught with me ? 
 
 Gob. Here 's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 
 
 Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's 
 man ; that would, sir, — as my father shall 
 specify, — 
 
 Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would 
 say, to serve — 
 
 Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the 130 
 Jew, and have a desire, — as my father shall 
 specify, — 
 
 Gob. His master and he, saving your worship's rev- 
 erence, are scarce cater-cousins, — 
 
 Laun. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, 
 having done me wrong, doth cause me, — as my 
 father, being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify 
 unto you, — 
 
 Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would be- 
 stow upon your worship, and my suit is, — 140 
 
 Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to my- 
 self, as your worship shall know by this honest 
 old man ; and, though I say it, though old man, 
 yet poor man, my father. 
 
 Bass. One speak for both. What would you ? 
 
 50
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. ii. 
 
 Lann. Serve you, sir. 
 
 Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 
 
 Bass. I know thee well ; thou hast obtain'd thy suit : 
 Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, 
 And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 150 
 
 To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
 The follower of so poor a gentleman. 
 
 Latin. The old proverb is very well parted between 
 my master Shylock and you, sir: you have the 
 grace of God, sir, and he hath enough. 
 
 Bass. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy 
 son. 
 Take leave of thy old master and inquire 
 My lodging out. Give him a livery 
 More guarded than his fellows' : see it done. 
 
 Laun. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no ; I have 160 
 ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man 
 in Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to 
 swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune. 
 Go to, here 's a simple line of life : here 's a 
 small trifle of wives : alas, fifteen wives is 
 nothing! a'leven widows and nine maids is a 
 simple coming-in for one man : and then to 
 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my 
 life with the edge of a feather-bed ; here are 
 simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, 170 
 she 's a good wench for this gear. Father, come ; 
 I '11 take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling 
 of an eye. [Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo. 
 
 Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this : 
 
 These things being bought and orderly bestow'd, 
 Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 
 
 5i
 
 Act II. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 My best-esteem 'd acquaintance : hie thee, go. 
 Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Where is your master ? 
 
 Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, — 180 
 
 Bass. Gratiano! 
 
 Gra. I have a suit to you. 
 
 Bass. You have obtain'd it. 
 
 Gra. -You must not deny me : I must go with you to 
 Belmont. 
 
 Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano : 
 Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ; 
 Parts that become thee happily enough, 
 And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
 But where thou art not known, why there they show 
 Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain 190 
 To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
 Thy skipping spirit ; lest, through thy wild be- 
 haviour, 
 I be misconstrued in the place I go to, 
 And lose my hopes. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me : 
 
 If I do not put on a sober habit, 
 Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, 
 Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ; 
 Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
 Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say ' amen ' ; 
 Use all the observance of civility, 200 
 
 Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
 To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
 
 Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. 
 
 52
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. iii. 
 
 Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night : you shall not gauge me 
 By what we do to-night. 
 
 Bass. No, that were pity : 
 
 I would entreat you rather to put on 
 Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
 That purpose merriment. But fare you well : 
 I have some business. 
 
 Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest : 210 
 
 But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 The same. A room in Shy lock's house. 
 Enter Jessica and Launcelot. 
 
 Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so : 
 Our house is hell ; and thou, a merry devil, 
 Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
 But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee : 
 And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
 Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest : 
 Give him this letter ; do it secretly ; 
 And so farewell : I would not have my father 
 See me in talk with thee. 
 
 Laun. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beau- 10 
 tiful pagan, most sweet Jew ! if a Christian did 
 not play the knave, and get thee, I am much de- 
 ceived. But, adieu: these foolish drops do 
 something drown my manly spirit: adieu. 
 . Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. [Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
 To be ashamed to be my father's child ! 
 But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
 
 53
 
 Act II. Sc. iv. THE MERCHANT 
 
 I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, 
 
 If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 20 
 
 Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 The same, A street. 
 Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. 
 
 Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time, 
 
 Disguise us at my lodging, and return 
 
 All in an hour. 
 Gra, We have not made good preparation. 
 Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. 
 Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd, 
 
 And better in my mind not undertook. 
 Lor. Tis now but four o'clock : we have two hours 
 
 To furnish us. 
 
 Enter Launcelot, with a letter. 
 
 Friend Launcelot, what 's the news ? 
 Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall 10 
 
 seem to signify. 
 Lor. I know the hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 
 
 And whiter than the paper it writ on 
 
 Is the fair hand that writ. 
 Gra. Love-news, in faith. 
 
 Latin. By your leave, sir. 
 Lor. Whither goest thou? 
 Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to 
 
 sup to-night with my new master the Christian. 
 Lor. Hold here, take this : tell gentle Jessica 
 
 I will not fail her ; speak it privately. 20 
 
 54
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. v. 
 
 Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? 
 
 I am provided of a torch-bearer. 
 Salar. Ay, marry, I '11 begone about it straight. 
 Salan. And so will I. 
 Lor. Meet me and Gratiano 
 
 At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 
 Salar. Tis good we do so. [Exeunt Salar. and Salan. 
 Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ? 
 Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 
 
 How I shall take her from her father's house ; 30 
 
 What gold and jewels. she is furnish'd with; 
 
 What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
 
 If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, 
 
 It will be for his gentle daughter's sake : 
 
 And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 
 
 Unless she do it under this excuse, 
 
 That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
 
 Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest : 
 
 Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 The same. Before Shylock's house. 
 Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 
 
 Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, 
 The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio : — 
 What, Jessica ! — thou shalt not gormandise, 
 As thou hast done with me: — What, Jessica! — 
 And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ; — 
 Why, Jessica, I say! 
 
 Latin. Why, Jessica ! 
 
 55
 
 Act II. Sc. v. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. 
 Latin. Your worship was wont to tell me that I could 
 do nothing without bidding. 
 
 Enter Jessica. 
 
 Jes. Call you? what is your will? 10 
 
 Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica : 
 
 There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? 
 I am not bid for love ; they flatter me : 
 But yet I '11 go in hate, to feed upon 
 The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, 
 Look to my house. I am right loath to go: 
 There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
 For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 
 
 Laun. I beseech you, sir, go: my young master doth 
 
 expect your reproach. 20 
 
 Shy. So do I his. 
 
 Laun. And they have conspired together, I will not 
 say you shall see a masque ; but if you do, then 
 it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleed- 
 ing on Black-Monday last at six o'clock i' the 
 morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednes- 
 day was four year, in the afternoon. 
 
 Shy. What, are there masques ? Hear you me, Jessica : 
 Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum, 
 And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, 30 
 Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
 Nor thrust your head into the public street 
 To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces ; 
 But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements : 
 Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
 My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear 
 
 56
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. vi. 
 
 I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
 But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah ; 
 Say I will come. 
 
 Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at 40 
 window, for all this ; 
 
 There will come a Christian by, 
 
 Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit 
 
 Shy. What says the fool of Hagar's offspring, ha ? 
 
 Jes.- His words were, ' Farewell, mistress; ' nothing else. 
 
 Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder ; 
 Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
 More than the wild-cat : drones hive not with me ; 
 Therefore I part with him ; and part with him 
 To one that I would have him help to waste 50 
 
 His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in : 
 Perhaps I will return immediately : 
 Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you : 
 Fast bind, fast find, 
 A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exit. 
 
 Jes. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, 
 
 I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 The same. 
 Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued. 
 
 Gra. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 
 
 Desired us to make stand. 
 Salar. His hour is almost past. 
 
 Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, 
 
 For lovers ever run before the clock. 
 Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
 
 57
 
 Act II. Sc. vi. THE MERCHANT 
 
 To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont 
 To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 
 
 Gra. That ever holds : who riseth from a feast 
 With that keen appetite that he sits down? 
 Where is the horse that doth untread again 10 
 
 His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
 That he did pace them first ? 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 ! 
 
 Salar. Here comes Lorenzo : more of this hereafter. 20 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode ; 
 Not I, but my afifairs, have made you wait : 
 When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
 I '11 watch as long for you then. Approach ; 
 Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who 's within? 
 
 Enter Jessica, above, in boy's clothes. 
 
 Jes. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty, 
 Albeit I '11 swear that I do know your tongue. 
 
 Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 
 
 Jes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed, 
 
 For who love I so much ? And now who knows 
 But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? 31 
 
 Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. vi. 
 
 Jcs. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains. 
 
 I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, 
 
 For I am much ashamed of my exchange : 
 
 But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
 
 The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 
 
 For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
 
 To see me thus transformed to a boy. 
 Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 40 
 
 Jcs. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? 
 
 They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light. 
 
 Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love ; 
 
 And I should be obscured. 
 Lor. So are you, sweet, 
 
 Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
 
 But come at once; 
 
 For the close night doth play the runaway, 
 
 And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 
 Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
 
 With some mo ducats, and be with you straight. 50 
 
 [Exit above. 
 Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. 
 Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily ; 
 
 For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 
 
 And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 
 
 And true she is, as she hath proved herself ; 
 
 And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, 
 
 Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 
 
 Enter Jessica, below. 
 
 What, art thou come? On, gentlemen; away! 
 Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 
 
 [Exit zi'ith Jessica and Salarino. 
 
 59
 
 Act II. Sc. vii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Ant. Who 's there ? 60 
 
 Gra. Signior Antonio ! 
 
 Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano; where are all the rest? 
 
 'Tis nine o'clock : our friends all stay for you. 
 
 No masque to-night : the wind is come about; 
 
 Bassanio presently will go aboard : 
 
 I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 
 Gra. I am glad on 't : I desire no more delight 
 
 Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, zvith the Prince of 
 Morocco, and their trains. 
 
 Por. Go draw aside the curtains, and discover 
 The several caskets to this noble prince. 
 Now make your choice. 
 
 Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears, 
 
 ' Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire ;' 
 The second, silver, which this promise carries, 
 * Who chooseth me shall get as much as he de- 
 serves ; ' 
 This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, 
 ' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he 
 
 hath/ 
 How shall I know if I do choose the right ? 10 
 
 Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince : 
 If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
 
 Mor. Some god direct my judgement ! Let me see ; 
 I will survey the inscriptions back again. 
 What says this leaden casket? 
 
 60
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. vii. 
 
 ' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' 
 Must give, — for what ? for lead ? hazard for lead ? 
 This casket threatens. Men that hazard all 
 Do it in hope of fair advantages : 
 A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 20 
 
 I '11 then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
 What says the silver with her virgin hue ? 
 ' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' 
 As much as he deserves ! Pause there, Morocco, 
 And weigh thy value with an even hand : 
 If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
 Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough 
 May not extend so far as to the lady : 
 And yet to be afeared of my deserving 
 Were but a weak disabling of myself. 30 
 
 As much as I deserve ! Why, that 's the lady : 
 I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, 
 In graces and in qualities of breeding; 
 But more than these, in love I do deserve. 
 What if I stray'd no further, but chose here ? 
 Let 's see once more this saying graved in gold ; 
 ' Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' 
 Why, that 's the lady ; all the world desires her ; 
 From the four corners of the earth they come, 
 To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint: 40 
 The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
 Of wide Arabia are as throughfares 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. 
 61
 
 Act II. Sc. vii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 
 Is 't like that lead contains her ? 'Twere damnation 
 To think so base a thought : it were too gross 50 
 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
 Or shall I think in silver she 's immured, 
 Being ten times undervalued to tried gold ? 
 O sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem 
 Was set in worse than gold. They have in England 
 A coin that bears the figure of an angel 
 Stamped in gold, but that 's insculp'd upon ; 
 But here an angel in a golden bed 
 Lies all within. Deliver me the key : 
 Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! 60 
 
 Por. There, take it, prince ; and if my form lie there, 
 
 Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket. 
 Mor. O hell ! what have we here ? 
 
 A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 
 There is a written scroll ! I '11 read the writing. 
 [Reads] All that glisters is not gold ; 
 
 Often have you heard that told : 
 Many a man his life hath sold 
 But my outside to behold : 
 Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
 Had you been as wise as bold, 70 
 
 Young in limbs, in judgement old, 
 Your answer had not been inscroll'd: 
 Fare you well ; your suit is cold. 
 Cold, indeed; and labour lost: 
 Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost ! 
 Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart 
 To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. 
 
 [Exit with his train. Flourish of comets, 
 62
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. viii. 
 
 Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. 
 
 Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 Enter Salarino and Salanio. 
 
 Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail: 
 
 With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
 
 And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 
 Salan. The villain Jew with outcries raised the Duke, 
 
 Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 
 Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail : 
 
 But there the Duke was given to understand 
 
 That in a gondola were seen together 
 
 Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica : 
 
 Besides, Antonio certified the Duke io 
 
 They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
 Salan. I never heard a passion so confused, 
 
 So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 
 
 As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
 
 ' My daughter ! O my ducats ! O my daughter ! 
 
 Fled with a Christian ! O my Christian ducats ! 
 
 Justice ! the law ! my ducats, and my daughter ! 
 
 A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, 
 
 Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter ! 
 
 And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones, 
 
 Stolen by my daughter ! Justice ! find the girl ! 21 
 
 She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats ! ' 
 Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, 
 
 Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 
 
 63
 
 Act II. Sc. viii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
 Or he shall pay for this. 
 
 Salar. Marry, well remember'd. 
 
 I reason 'd with a Frenchman yesterday, 
 Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
 The French and English, there miscarried 
 A vessel of our country richly fraught : 30 
 
 I thought upon Antonio when he told me ; 
 And wish'd in silence that it were not his. 
 
 Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ; 
 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 
 
 Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
 I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : 
 Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
 Of his return : he answer'd, ' Do not so ; 
 Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
 But stay the very riping of the time ; 40 
 
 And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
 Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
 Be merry ; and employ your chiefest thoughts 
 To courtship, and such fair ostents of love 
 As shall conveniently become you there : ' 
 And even there, his eye being big with tears, 
 Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
 And with affection wondrous sensible 
 He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted. 
 
 Salan. I think he only loves the world for him. 50 
 
 I pray thee, let us go and find him out, 
 And quicken his embraced heaviness 
 With some delight or other. 
 Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt. 
 
 64
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. ix. 
 
 Scene IX. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia s house. 
 
 Enter Nerissa and a Servitor. 
 
 Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee : draw the curtain 
 straight : 
 The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, 
 And comes to his election presently. 
 
 Flourish of comets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, Por- 
 tia, and their trains. 
 
 Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince : 
 If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, 
 Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized : 
 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
 You must be gone from hence immediately. 
 
 Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: 
 
 First, never to unfold to any one 10 
 
 Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail 
 
 Of the right casket, never in my life 
 
 To woo a maid in way of marriage : 
 
 Lastly, 
 
 If I do fail in fortune of my choice, 
 
 Immediately to leave you and be gone. 
 
 Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear 
 That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 
 
 Ar, And so have I address'd me. Fortune now 
 
 To my heart's hope! Gold; silver; and base 
 lead. 20 
 
 ' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath/ 
 You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 
 What says the golden chest ? ha ! let me see : 
 * Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire/ 
 
 65
 
 Act II. Sc. ix. THE MERCHANT 
 
 What many men desire ! that ' many ' may be meant 
 By the fool multitude, that choose by show, 
 Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach ; 
 Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, 
 Builds in the weather on the outward wall, 
 Even in the force and road of casualty. 30 
 
 I will not choose what many men desire, 
 Because I will not jump with common spirits, 
 And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 
 Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ; 
 Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: 
 ' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he de- 
 serves : ' 
 And well said too ; for who shall go about 
 To cozen fortune, and be honourable 
 Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume 
 To wear an undeserved dignity. 40 
 
 O, that estates, degrees and offices 
 Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour 
 Were purchased by the merit of the wearer ! 
 How many then should cover that stand bare ! 
 How many be commanded that command ! 
 How much low peasantry would then be glean'd 
 From the true seed of honour ! and how much hon- 
 our 
 Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, 
 To be new-varnish'd ! Well, but to my choice : 
 ' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' 
 I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, 51 
 And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 
 
 [He opens the silver casket. 
 
 Por. [Aside] Too long a pause for that which you find 
 there. 
 
 Ar. What 's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, 
 
 66
 
 OF VENICE Act II. Sc. ix. 
 
 Presenting me a schedule ! I will read it. 
 How much unlike art thou to Portia ! 
 How much unlike my hopes and my deservings ! 
 * Who chooseth me shall have as much as he de- 
 serves/ 
 Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
 Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better ? 60 
 
 Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, 
 
 And of opposed natures. 
 Ar. What is here? 
 
 [Reads] The fire seven times tried this : 
 
 Seven times tried that judgement is, 
 
 That did never choose amiss. 
 
 Some there be that shadows kiss ; 
 
 Such have but a shadow's bliss : 
 
 There be fools alive, I wis, 
 
 Silver'd o'er; and so was this. 
 
 Take what wife you will to bed, 70 
 
 I will ever be your head : 
 
 So be gone : you are sped. 
 
 Still more fool I shall appear 
 
 By the time I linger here : 
 
 With one fool's head I came to woo, 
 
 But I go away with two. 
 
 Sweet, adieu. I '11 keep my oath, 
 
 Patiently to bear my wroth. 
 
 [Exeunt Arragon and train. 
 Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth. 
 
 O, these deliberate fools ! when they do choose, 80 
 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
 Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy, 
 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 
 67
 
 Act III. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Where is my lady? 
 
 Por. Here : what would my lord ? 
 
 Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
 A young Venetian, one that comes before 
 To signify the approaching of his lord ; 
 From whom he bringeth sensible regreets, 
 To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 90 
 Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 
 So likely an ambassador of love : 
 A day in April never came so sweet, 
 To show how costly summer was at hand, 
 As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 
 
 Por. No more, I pray thee : I am half afeard 
 Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, 
 Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him, 
 Come, come, Nerissa ; for I long to see 
 Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. 100 
 
 Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 Enter Salanio and Salarino. 
 
 Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto ? 
 
 Salar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that 
 Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked 
 on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. i. 
 
 they call the place; a very dangerous flat and 
 fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie 
 buried, as they say, if my gossip Report be an 
 honest woman of her word. 
 
 Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as 
 
 ever knapped ginger, or made her neighbours 10 
 believe she wept for the death of a third hus- 
 band. But it is true, without any slips of pro- 
 lixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk, 
 that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio, — 
 O that I had a title good enough to keep his 
 name company! — 
 
 Salar. Come, the full stop. 
 
 Salan. Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, 
 he hath lost a ship. 
 
 Salar. I would it might prove the end of his 20 
 losses. 
 
 Salan. Let me say ' amen ' betimes, lest the devil 
 cross my prayer, for here he comes in the like- 
 ness of a Jew. 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 How now, Shylock ! what news among the mer- 
 chants ? 
 
 Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, 
 of my daughter's flight. 
 
 Salar. That's certain: I, for my part, knew the 
 
 tailor that made the wings she flew withal. 30 
 
 Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird 
 was fledged ; and then it is the complexion of 
 them all to leave the dam. 
 
 Shy. She is damned for it. 
 
 69
 
 Act III. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Salar. That 's certain, if the devil may be her judge. 
 
 Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel! 
 
 Salan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these 
 years ? 
 
 Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 
 
 Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and 40 
 hers than between jet and ivory; more between 
 your bloods than there is between red wine and 
 rhenish. But tell us, do you hear whether An- 
 tonio have had any loss at sea or no? 
 
 Shy. There I have another bad match : a bankrupt, 
 a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the 
 Rialto; a beggar, that was used to come so 
 smug upon the mart ; let him look to his bond : 
 he was wont to call me usurer ; let him look to 
 his bond : he was wont to lend money for a 50 
 Christian courtesy : let him look to his bond. 
 
 Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not 
 take his flesh : what 's that good for ? 
 
 Shy. To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing else, 
 it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, 
 and hindered me half a million ; laughed at my 
 losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, 
 thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated 
 mine enemies ; and what 's his reason ? I am a 
 Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew 60 
 hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, 
 passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the 
 same weapons, subject to the same diseases, 
 healed by the same means, warmed and cooled 
 by the same winter and summer, as a Christian 
 is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you 
 70
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. i. 
 
 tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do 
 we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not 
 revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will 
 resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Chris- 70 
 tian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a 
 Christian wrong a Jew, what should his suffer- 
 ance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. 
 The villany you teach me, I will execute ; and it 
 shall go hard but I will better the instruction. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, 
 
 and desires to speak with you both. 
 Salar. We have been up and down to seek him. 
 
 Enter Tubal. 
 
 Salan. Here comes another of the tribe : a third 
 cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn 
 Jew. 80 
 
 [Exeunt Salan., Salar. and Servant. 
 
 Shy. How now, Tubal ! what news from Genoa ? 
 hast thou found my daughter ? 
 
 Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but can- 
 not find her. 
 
 Shy. Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond 
 gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frank- 
 fort! The curse never fell upon our nation 
 till now ; I never felt it till now : two 
 thousand ducats in that ; and other precious, 
 precious jewels. I would my daughter were 90 
 dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear! 
 would she were hearsed at my foot, and the 
 ducats in her coffin ! No news of them ? Why, 
 so: — and I know not what's spent in the 
 
 71
 
 Act III. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 search : why, thou loss upon loss ! the thief gone 
 
 with so much, and so much to find the thief; 
 
 and no satisfaction, no revenge : nor no ill luck 
 
 stirring but what lights on my shoulders; no 
 
 sighs but of my breathing; no tears but of my 
 
 shedding. 
 Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too : Antonio, as I ioo 
 
 heard in Genoa, — 
 Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? 
 Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Trip- 
 oli s. 
 Shy. I thank God, I thank God! Is 't true, is^ 
 
 true? 
 Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped 
 
 the wreck. 
 Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good 
 
 news ! ha, ha ! where ? in Genoa ? 
 Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in 
 
 one night fourscore ducats. no 
 
 Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me : I shall never see 
 
 my gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting! 
 
 fourscore ducats ! 
 Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my 
 
 company to Venice, that swear he cannot 
 
 choose but break. 
 Shy. I am very glad of it : I '11 plague him : I '11 
 
 torture him : I am glad of it. 
 Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had of 
 
 your daughter for a monkey. 120 
 
 Shy. Out upon her ! Thou torturest me, Tubal : it 
 
 was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when I was 
 
 a bachelor: I would not have given it for a 
 
 wilderness of monkeys. 
 Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. 
 
 72
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. ii. 
 
 Shy. Nay, that 's true, that 's very true. Go, Tubal, 
 fee me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight be- 
 fore. I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit ; 
 for, were he out of Venice, I can make what 
 merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet 130 
 me at our synagogue ; go, good Tubal ; at our 
 synagogue, Tubal. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, and Attend- 
 ants. 
 
 Por. I pray you, tarry : pause a day or two 
 
 Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
 
 I lose your company : therefore forbear awhile. 
 
 There 's something tells me, but it is not love, 
 
 I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 
 
 Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
 
 But lest you should not understand me well, — 
 
 And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, — 
 
 I would detain you here some month or two 
 
 Before you venture for me. I could teach you 10 
 
 How to choose right, but I am then forsworn ; 
 
 So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
 
 But if you do, you '11 make me wish a sin, 
 
 That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 
 
 They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me ; 
 
 One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 
 
 Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, 
 
 And so all yours ! O, these naughty times 
 
 Put bars between the owners and their rights ! 
 
 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 20 
 
 73
 
 Act III. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 
 
 I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize the time, 
 
 To eke it and to draw it out in length, 
 
 To stay you from election. 
 Bass. Let me choose ; 
 
 For as I am, I live upon the rack. 
 Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess 
 
 What treason there is mingled with your love. 
 Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, 
 
 Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love: 
 
 There may as well be amity and life 30 
 
 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 
 For. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, 
 
 Where men enforced do speak any thing. 
 Bass. Promise me life, and I '11 confess the truth. 
 Por. Well then, confess and live. 
 Bass. ' Confess,' and ' love/ 
 
 Had been the very sum of my confession : 
 
 O happy torment, when my torturer 
 
 Doth teach me answers for deliverance ! 
 
 But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
 Por. Away, then ! I am lock'd in one of them : 40 
 
 If you do love me, you will find me out. 
 
 Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. 
 
 Let music sound while he doth make his choice ; 
 
 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
 
 Fading in music : that the comparison 
 
 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the 
 stream, 
 
 And watery death-bed for him. He may win ; 
 
 And what is music then ? Then music is 
 
 Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
 
 74
 
 OF VENICE Act HI. Sc. ii. 
 
 To a new-crowned monarch : such it is 50 
 
 As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 
 And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, 
 With no less presence, but with much more love, 
 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
 The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
 To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice; 
 The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, 
 With bleared visages, come forth to view 
 The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules ! 60 
 
 Live thou, I live : with much much more dismay 
 I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. 
 
 Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to him- 
 self. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Tell me where is fancy bred, 
 Or in the heart or in the head? 
 How begot, how nourished ? • 
 
 Reply, reply. 
 It is engender'd in the eyes, 
 With gazing fed ; and fancy dies 
 In the cradle where it lies. 
 
 Let us all ring fancy's knell ; 70 
 
 I '11 begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 
 All. Ding, dong, bell. 
 
 Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves : 
 The world is still deceived with ornament. 
 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
 But, being season'd with a gracious voice, 
 Obscures the show of evil? In religion, 
 What damned error, but some sober br6w 
 
 75
 
 Act III. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Will bless it, and approve it with a text, 
 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? 80 
 
 There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
 Some mark of virtue on his outward parts : 
 How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
 As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
 The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars ; 
 Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk; 
 And these assume but valour's excrement 
 To render them redoubted ! Look on beauty, 
 And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight ; 
 Which therein works a miracle in nature, 90 
 
 Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
 So are those crisped snaky golden locks 
 Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 
 Upon supposed fairness, often known 
 To be the dowry of a second head, 
 The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. 
 Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 
 To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf 
 Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word, 
 The seeming truth which cunning times put on 100 
 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, 
 Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee : 
 Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 
 'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre lead, 
 Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught, 
 Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence; 
 And here choose I : joy be the consequence ! 
 For. [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair, 
 And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! no 
 76
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. ii. 
 
 love, be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ; 
 
 In measure rain thy joy ; scant this excess ! 
 
 1 feel too much thy blessing : make it less, 
 For fear I surfeit! 
 
 Bass. What find I here ? 
 
 ->• [Opening the leaden casket. 
 Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god 
 Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ? 
 Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
 Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips, 
 Parted with sugar breath : so sweet a bar 
 Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her 
 
 hairs 
 The painter plays the spider, and hath woven 121 
 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, 
 Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes, — 
 How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
 Methinks it should have power to steal both his 
 And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far 
 The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow 
 In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
 Doth limp behind the substance. Here 's the scroll, 
 The continent and summary of my fortune. 130 
 
 [Reads] You that choose not by the view, 
 
 Chance as fair, and choose as true ! 
 
 Since this fortune falls to you, 
 
 Be content and seek no new. 
 
 If you be well pleased with this, 
 
 And hold your fortune for your bliss, 
 
 Turn you where your lady is, 
 
 And claim her with a loving kiss. 
 A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave ; 
 I come by note, to give and to receive. 140 
 
 77
 
 Act III. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Like one of two contending in a prize, 
 That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
 Hearing applause and universal shout, 
 Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 
 Whether those peals of praise be his or no; 
 So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so ; 
 As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
 Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 
 Per. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 
 
 Such as I am: though for myself alone 150 
 
 I would not be ambitious in my wish, 
 To wish myself much better ; yet, for you 
 I would be trebled twenty times myself; 
 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
 More rich; 
 
 That only to stand high in your account, 
 I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
 . Exceed account ; but the full sum of me 
 Is sum of something, which, to term in gross, 
 Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised ; 160 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
 But she may learn ; happier than this, 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
 Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
 As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
 Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
 Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 
 Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 170 
 
 • This house, these servants, and this same myself, 
 Are yours, my lord : I give them with this ring ; 
 
 78
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. ii. 
 
 Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
 Let it presage the ruin of your love, 
 And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 
 
 Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
 Only my blood speaks to you in my veins; 
 And there is such confusion in my powers, 
 As, after some oration fairly spoke 
 By a beloved prince, there doth appear 180 
 
 Among the buzzing pleased multitude ; 
 Where every something, being blent together, 
 Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
 Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring 
 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence : 
 O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead ! 
 
 Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time, 
 
 That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper, 
 To cry, good joy : good joy, my lord and lady ! 
 
 Gra. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 190 
 
 I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
 For I am sure you can wish none from me : 
 And when your honours mean to solemnize 
 The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
 Even at that time I may be married too. 
 
 Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 
 
 Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. 
 My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
 You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ; 
 You loved, I loved for intermission. 200 
 
 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
 Your fortune stood upon the casket there, 
 And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; 
 For wooing here until I sweat again, 
 
 79
 
 Act III. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 And swearing till my very roof was dry 
 With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, 
 I got a promise of this fair one here 
 To have her love, provided that your fortune 
 Achieved her mistress. 
 
 Por. Is this true, Nerissa? 
 
 Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. 210 
 
 Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? 
 
 Gra. Yes, faith, my lord. 
 
 Bass. Our feast shall be much honoured in your mar- 
 riage. 
 
 Gra. We '11 play with them the first boy for a thou- 
 sand ducats. 
 
 Ner. What, and stake down? 
 
 Gra. No ; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake 
 down. 
 
 But who comes here ? Lorenzo and his infidel ? 
 What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio? 220 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a Messenger from 
 
 Venice. 
 
 Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither ; 
 
 If that the youth of my new interest here 
 
 Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, 
 
 I bid my very friends and countrymen, 
 
 Sweet Portia, welcome. 
 Por. So do I, my lord : 
 
 They are entirely welcome. 
 Lor. I thank your honour. For my part, my lord, 
 
 My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
 
 But meeting with Salerio by the way, 
 
 He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 230 
 
 To come with him along. 
 Saler. I did, my lord ;
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. ii. 
 
 And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
 Commends him to you. [Gives Bassanio a letter, 
 
 Bass. Ere I ope this letter, 
 
 I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 
 
 Safer. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 
 Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
 Will show you his estate. 
 
 Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome. 
 
 Your hand, Salerio : what 's the news from Venice ? 
 How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 240 
 I know he will be glad of our success ; 
 We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 
 
 Saler. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. 
 
 Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper, 
 That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek: 
 Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world 
 Could turn so much the constitution 
 Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ! 
 With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself, 
 And I must freely have the half of anything 250 
 That this same paper brings you. 
 
 Bass. O sweet Portia, 
 
 Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words 
 That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady, 
 When I did first impart my love to you, 
 I freely told you, all the wealth I had 
 Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman ; 
 And then I told you true : and yet, dear lady, 
 Rating myself at nothing, you shall see 
 How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
 My state was nothing, I should then have told you 
 That I was worse than nothing ; for, indeed, 261 
 
 81
 
 Act III. Sc. ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 I have engaged myself to a dear friend, 
 
 Engaged my friend to his mere enemy, 
 
 To feed my means'. Here is a letter, lady ; 
 
 The paper as the body of my friend, 
 
 And every word in it a gaping wound, 
 
 Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? 
 
 Have all his ventures f ail'd ? What, not one hit ? 
 
 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 
 
 From Lisbon, Barbary, and India? 270 
 
 And not one vessel scape the dreaful touch 
 
 Of merchant-marring rocks? 
 
 Salar. Not one, my lord. 
 
 Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
 The present money to discharge the Jew, 
 He would not take it. Never did I know 
 A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
 So keen and greedy to confound a man : 
 He plies the Duke at morning and at night ; 
 And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 
 If they deny him justice : twenty merchants, 280 
 The Duke himself, and the magnificoes 
 Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ; • 
 • But none can drive him from the envious plea 
 Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 
 
 Jcs. When I was with him I have heard him swear 
 To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, 
 That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
 Than twenty times the value of the sum 
 That he did owe him : and I know, my lord, 
 If law, authority and power deny not, 290 
 
 It will go hard with poor Antonio. 
 
 Por. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? 
 
 82
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. ii. 
 
 Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
 The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit 
 In doing courtesies; and one in whom 
 The ancient Roman honour more appears 
 Than any that draws breath in Italy. 
 
 Por. What sum owes he the Jew? 
 
 Bass. For me three thousand ducats. 
 
 Por. What, no more ? 
 
 Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond ; 300 
 
 Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
 
 Before a friend of this description 
 
 Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
 
 First go with me to church and call me wife, 
 
 And then away to Venice to your friend ; 
 
 For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
 
 With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
 
 To pay the petty debt twenty times over : 
 
 When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 
 
 My maid Xerissa and myself meantime 310 
 
 Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! 
 
 For you shall hence upon your wedding-day : 
 
 Bid your iriends welcome, show a merry cheer : 
 
 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 
 
 But let me hear the letter of your friend. 
 
 Bass. [Reads] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all 
 miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate 
 is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit ; and 
 since in paying it, it is impossible I should live, 
 all debts are cleared between you and I, if I 
 might but see you at my death. Not withstand- 320 
 ing, use your pleasure : if your love do not per- 
 suade you to come, let not my letter. 
 
 83
 
 Act III. Sc. iii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone ! 
 Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, 
 
 I will make haste : but, till I come again, 
 No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, 
 
 No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 Enter Shy lock, Salarino, Antonio, and Gaoler. 
 
 Shy. Gaoler, look to him : tell not me of mercy ; 
 This is the fool that lent out money gratis : 
 Gaoler, look to him. 
 
 Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 
 
 Shy. I '11 have my bond ; speak not against my bond : 
 I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 
 Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ; 
 But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs : 
 The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, 
 Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
 To come abroad with him at his request. io 
 
 Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 
 
 Shy. I '11 have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : 
 I '11 have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
 I '11 not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
 To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; 
 I '11 have no speaking : I will have my bond. [Exit. 
 
 Salar. It is the most impenetrable cur 
 That ever kept with men. 
 
 Ant. Let him alone : 
 
 I '11 follow him no more with bootless prayers. 20 
 
 84
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. iv. 
 
 He seeks my life ; his reason well I know ; 
 I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 
 Many that have at times made moan to me; 
 Therefore he hates me. 
 
 Salar. I am sure the Duke 
 
 Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 
 
 Ant. The Duke cannot deny the course of law : 
 For the commodity that strangers have 
 With us in Venice, if it be denied, 
 Will much impeach the justice of his state; 
 Since that the trade and profit of the city 30 
 
 Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go : 
 Those griefs and losses have so bated me, 
 That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
 To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
 Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 
 To see me pay his debt, and then I care not ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia s house. 
 
 Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthasar. 
 
 Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 
 You have a noble and a true conceit 
 Of god-like amity; which appears most strongly 
 In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
 But if you knew to whom you show this honour, 
 How true a gentleman you send relief, 
 How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
 I know you would be prouder of the work 
 Than customary bounty can enforce you. 
 
 85
 
 Act HI. Sc. iv. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. I never did repent for doing good, 10 
 
 Nor shall not now : for in companions 
 
 That do converse and waste the time together, 
 
 Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, 
 
 There must be needs a like proportion 
 
 Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit; 
 
 Which makes me think that this Antonio, 
 
 Being the bosom lover of my lord, 
 
 Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, 
 
 How little is the cost I have bestow'd 
 
 In purchasing the semblance of my soul 20 
 
 From out the state of hellish misery! 
 
 This comes too near the praising of myself ; 
 
 Therefore no more of it : hear other things. 
 
 Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
 
 The husbandry and manage of my house 
 
 Until my lord's return : for mine own part, 
 
 I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow 
 
 To live in prayer and contemplation, 
 
 Only attended by Nerissa here, 
 
 Until her husband and my lord's return: 30 
 
 There is a monastery two miles off ; 
 
 And there will we abide. I do desire you 
 
 Not to deny this imposition ; 
 
 The which my love and some necessity 
 
 Now lays upon you. 
 Lor. Madam, with all my heart ; 
 
 I shall obey you in all fair commands. 
 Por. My people do already know my mind, 
 
 And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
 
 In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
 
 And so farewell, till we shall meet again. 40 
 
 86
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. iv. 
 
 Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you ! 
 
 Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
 
 Por. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased 
 To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. 
 
 [Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo. 
 Now, Balthasar, 
 
 As I have ever found thee honest-true, 
 So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, 
 And use thou all the endeavour of a man 
 In speed to Padua : see thou render this 
 Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario ; 50 
 
 And, look, what notes and garments he doth give 
 
 thee, 
 Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed 
 Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 
 Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, 
 But get thee gone : I shall be there before thee. 
 
 Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [Exit. 
 
 Por. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand 
 
 That you yet know not of ; we '11 see our husbands 
 Before they think of us. 
 
 Ner. Shall they see us? 
 
 Por. They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit, 60 
 
 That they shall think we are accomplished 
 With that we lack. I '11 hold thee any wager, 
 When we are both accoutred like young men, 
 I '11 prove the prettier fellow of the two, 
 And wear my dagger with a braver grace, 
 And speak between the change of man and boy 
 With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps 
 Into a manly stride, and speak of frays 
 Like a fine bragging youth ; and tell quaint lies, 
 How honourable ladies sought my love, 70 
 
 87
 
 Act III. Sc. v. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Which I denying, they fell sick and died; 
 
 I could not do withal : then I '11 repent, 
 
 And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them ; 
 
 And twenty of these puny lies I '11 tell, 
 
 That men shall swear I have discontinued school 
 
 Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 
 
 A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
 
 Which I will practise. 
 
 Ner. Why, shall we turn to men? 
 
 Por. Fie, what a question 's that, 
 
 If thou wert near a lewd interpreter ! 80 
 
 But come, I '11 tell thee all my whole device 
 
 When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
 
 At the park-gate ; and therefore haste away, 
 
 For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 The same. A garden. 
 
 Enter Launcelot and Jessica. 
 
 Laun. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the 
 father are to be laid upon the children : there- 
 fore, I promise ye, I. fear you. I was always 
 plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation 
 of the matter : therefore be of good cheer ; for, 
 truly, I think you are damned. There is but 
 one hope in it that can do you any good: and 
 that is but a kind of bastard hope neither. 
 Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee? 10 
 
 Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father 
 got you not, that you are not the Jew's daughter.
 
 OF VENICE Act III. Sc. v. 
 
 Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed: so 
 the sins ©f my mother should be visited upon 
 me. 
 
 Laun. Truly then I fear you are damned both by 
 father and mother : thus when I shun Scylla, 
 your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother : 
 well, you are gone both ways. 
 
 Jes. I shall be saved by my husband ; he hath made 20 
 me a Christian. 
 
 Laun. Truly, the more to blame he : we were Chris- 
 tians enow before ; e'en as many as could well 
 live, one by another. This making of Christians 
 will raise the price of hogs : if we grow all to 
 be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher 
 on the coals for money. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Jes. I '11 tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: 
 here he comes. 
 
 Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, 30 
 if you thus get my wife into corners. 
 
 Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo : Launce- 
 lot and I are out. He tells me flatly, there is 
 no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a Jew's 
 daughter : and he says, you are no good member 
 of the commonwealth ; for, in converting Jews 
 to Christians, you raise the price of pork. 
 
 Lor. I shall answer that better to the commonwealth 
 
 than you can the getting up of the negro's 40 
 belly : the Moor is with child by you, Launce- 
 lot. 
 
 89
 
 Act III. Sc. v. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Laun. It is much that the Moor should be more than 
 reason : but if she be less than an honest woman, 
 she is indeed more than I took her for. 
 
 Lor. How every fool can play upon the word! I 
 think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into 
 silence ; and discourse grow commendable in 
 none only but parrots. Go in, sirrah ; bid them 
 prepare for dinner. 50 
 
 Laun. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 
 
 Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you ! then 
 bid them prepare dinner. 
 
 Laun. That is done too, sir ; only ' cover ' is the 
 word. 
 
 Lor. Will you cover, then, sir? 
 
 Laun. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty. 
 
 Lor. Yet more quarreling with occasion ! Wilt 
 thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an 
 instant ? I pray thee, understand a plain man in 
 his plain meaning : go to thy fellows ; bid them 60 
 cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will 
 come in to dinner. 
 
 Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in ; for 
 the meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your com- 
 ing in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours 
 and conceits shall govern. [Exit. 
 
 Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited! 
 The fool hath planted in his memory 
 An army of good words ; and I do know 
 A many fools, that stand in better place, 70 
 
 Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
 Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica ? 
 And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, 
 How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife? 
 
 90
 
 OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet 
 The Lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
 For, having such a blessing in his lady, 
 He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ; 
 And if on earth he do not mean it, then 
 In reason he should never come to heaven. 80 
 
 Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match 
 And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
 And Portia one, there must be something else 
 Pawn'd with the other ; for the poor rude world 
 Hath not her fellow. 
 
 Lor. Even such a husband 
 
 Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 
 
 Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 
 
 Lor. I will anon : first, let us go to dinner. 
 
 Jes. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach. 
 
 Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk ; 90 
 
 Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things 
 I shall digest it. 
 
 Jes. Well, I '11 set you forth. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 Scene I. 
 
 Venice. A court of justice. 
 
 Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, 
 Gratiano, Salerio, and others. 
 
 Duke. What, is Antonio here ? 
 
 Ant. Ready, so please your Grace. 
 
 Duke. I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer 
 
 91
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
 Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
 From any dram of mercy. 
 
 Ant. I have heard 
 
 Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
 
 His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate, 
 
 And that no lawful means can carry me 
 
 Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 10 
 
 My patience to his fury ; and am arm'd 
 
 To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
 
 The very tyranny and rage of his. 
 
 Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 
 
 Saler. He is ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face. 
 Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
 That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
 To the last hour of act ; and then 'tis thought 
 Thou 'It show thy mercy and remorse more strange 
 Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; 21 
 
 And where thou now exact'st the penalty, 
 Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, 
 Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, 
 But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
 Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
 Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
 That have of late so huddled on his back, 
 Enow to press a royal merchant down, 
 And pluck commiseration of his state 30 
 
 From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint. 
 From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd 
 92
 
 OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 To offices of tender courtesy. 
 
 We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 
 
 Shy. I have possess' d your Grace of what I purpose ; 
 And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
 To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
 If you deny it, let the danger light 
 Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
 You '11 ask me, why I rather choose to have 40 
 
 A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive 
 Three thousand ducats : I '11 not answer that : 
 But, say, it is my humour : is it answer'd ? 
 What if my house be troubled with a rat, 
 And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats 
 To have it baned ? What, are you answer'd yet ? 
 Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; 
 Some, that are mad if they behold a cat ; 
 And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose, 
 Cannot contain their urine: for affection, 50 
 
 Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 
 Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer, 
 As there is no firm reason to be render'd, 
 Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ; 
 Why he, a harmless necessary cat; 
 Why he, a woollen bagpipe ; but of force 
 Must yield to such inevitable shame 
 As to offend, himself being offended ; 
 So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 
 More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 60 
 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
 A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 
 
 Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 
 To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 
 
 93
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answer. 
 
 Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love ? 
 
 Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ? 
 
 Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. 
 
 Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice ? 
 
 Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew: 70 
 You may as well go stand upon the beach, 
 And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
 You may as well use question with the wolf, 
 Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
 You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
 To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, 
 When they are f retten with the gusts of heaven ; 
 You may as well do any thing most hard, 
 As seek to soften that — than which what 's harder ? — 
 His Jewish heart : therefore, I do beseech you, 80 
 Make no more offers, use no further means, 
 But with all brief and plain conveniency 
 Let me have judgement and the Jew his will. 
 
 Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 
 
 Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
 Were in six parts and every part a ducat, 
 I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. 
 
 Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none? 
 
 Shy. What judgement shall I dread, doing no wrong? 
 You have among you many a purchased slave, 90 
 Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
 You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
 Because you bought them : shall I say to you, 
 Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
 Why sweat they under burthens ? let their beds 
 Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
 
 94
 
 OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 Be season'd with such viands? You will answer 
 
 ' The slaves are ours : ' so do I answer you : 
 
 The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 
 
 Is dearly bought ; 'tis mine and I will have it. ioo 
 
 If you deny me, fie upon your law ! 
 
 There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
 
 I stand for judgement: answer; shall I have it? 
 
 Duke. Upon my po\yer I may dismiss this court, 
 Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 
 Whom I have sent for to determine this, 
 Come here to-day. 
 
 Saler. My lord, here stays without 
 
 A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
 New come from Padua. 
 
 Duke. Bring us the letters; call the messenger. no 
 
 Bass. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man, courage yet ! 
 The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, 
 Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 
 
 Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
 
 Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit 
 Drops earliest to the ground ; and so let me : 
 You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, 
 Than to live still, and write mine epitaph. 
 
 Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk. 
 
 Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario? 
 
 Ner. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace. 
 
 [Presenting a letter. 
 Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? 121 
 Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. 
 Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
 Thou makest thy knife keen ; but no metal can, 
 
 95
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness 
 Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee ? 
 
 Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. 
 
 Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog! 
 And for thy life let justice be accused. 
 Thou almost makest me waver in my faith, 130 
 
 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
 That souls of animals infuse themselves 
 Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 
 Govern'd a wolf, who hang'd for human slaughter, 
 Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
 And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, 
 Infused itself in thee ; for thy desires 
 Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous. 
 
 Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, 
 
 Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud: 140 
 Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
 To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. 
 
 Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend 
 A young and learned doctor to our court. 
 Where is he? 
 
 Ner. He attendeth here hard by, 
 
 To know your answer, whether you '11 admit him. 
 
 Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you 
 Go give him courteous conduct to this place. 
 Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 
 
 Clerk. [Reads] Your Grace shall understand that at 150 
 the receipt of your letter I am very sick : but in 
 the instant that your messenger came, in loving 
 visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome ; 
 his name is Balthasar. I acquainted him with 
 the cause in controversy between the Jew and 
 96
 
 OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 Antonio the merchant : we turned o'er many 
 books together : he is furnished with my opin- 
 ion ; which, bettered with his own learning, — 
 the greatness whereof I cannot enough com- 
 mend, — comes with him, at my importunity, to i6o 
 fill up your Grace's request in my stead. I be- 
 seech you, let his lack of years be no impedi- 
 ment to let him lack a reverend estimation ; for 
 I never knew so young a body with so old a head. 
 I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose 
 trial shall better publish his commendation. 
 Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes : 
 And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 
 
 Enter Portia for Balthasar. 
 
 Give me your hand. Come you from old Bel- 
 lario? 
 
 Por. I did, my lord. 
 
 Duke. You are welcome : take your place. 
 
 Are you acquainted with the difference 171 
 
 That holds this present question in the court? 
 
 Por. I am informed throughly of the cause. 
 
 Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew ? 
 
 Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 
 
 Por. Is your name Shylock? 
 
 Shy. Shylock is my name. 
 
 Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
 Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 
 Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. 
 You stand within his danger, do you not? 180 
 
 Ant. Ay, so he says. 
 
 Por. Do you confess the bond? 
 
 Ant. I do. 
 
 97
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. 
 
 Shy. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 
 
 Por. 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 : 
 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
 
 The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 190 
 
 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 ; 200 
 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 
 The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 
 
 To mitigate the justice of thy plea; 
 
 Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
 
 Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 
 
 Shy. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, 
 The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 
 
 Por, Is he not able to discharge the money? 
 
 Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court ; 
 
 Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice, 210 
 I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 
 On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart : 
 If this will not suffice, it must appear 
 
 98
 
 OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 That malice bears down truth. And I beseech 
 
 you, 
 Wrest once the law to your authority : 
 To do a great right, do a little wrong, 
 And curb this cruel devil of his will. 
 
 Por. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 
 Can alter a decree established : 
 
 'Twill be recorded for a precedent, 220 
 
 And many an error, by the same example, 
 Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 
 
 Shy. A Daniel come to judgement ! yea, a Daniel ! 
 O wise young judge, how I do honour thee ! 
 
 Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 
 
 Por. Shy lock, there 's thrice thy money offer d thee. 
 
 Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven : 
 Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? 
 No, not for Venice. 
 
 Por. ' Why, this bond is forfeit ; 230 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
 A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
 Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful : 
 Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 
 
 Shy. When it is paid according to the tenour. 
 It doth appear you are a worthy judge ; 
 You know the law, your exposition 
 Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, 
 W T hereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 
 Proceed to judgement: by my soul I swear 240 
 There is no power in the tongue of man 
 To alter me : I stay here on my bond. 
 
 Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
 
 99
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 To give the judgement. 
 Por. Why then, thus it is : 
 
 You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
 Shy. O noble judge ! O excellent young man ! 
 Por. For the intent and purpose of the law 
 
 Hath full relation to the penalty, 
 
 Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 
 Shy. 'Tis very true : O wise and upright judge! 253 
 
 How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! 
 Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 
 Shy. Ay, his breast : 
 
 So says the bond : — doth it not, noble judge ? — 
 
 ' Nearest his heart : ' those are the very words. 
 Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 
 
 The flesh? 
 Shy. I have them ready. 
 
 Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, 
 
 To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 
 Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 
 Por. It is not so express'd : but what of that ? . 260 
 
 'Twere good you do so much for charity. 
 Shy. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 
 Por. You, merchant, have you any thing to say ? 
 Ant. But little: I am arm'd and well prepared. 
 
 Give me your hand, Bassanio : fare you well ! 
 
 Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
 
 For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
 
 Than is her custom : it is still her use 
 
 To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
 
 To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 270 
 
 An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
 
 Of such misery doth she cut me off. 
 
 100
 
 OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 Commend me to your honourable wife : 
 
 Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 
 
 Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death ; 
 
 And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 
 
 Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
 
 Repent but you that you shall lose your friend, 
 
 And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
 
 And if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 280 
 
 I '11 pay it presently with all my heart. 
 Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
 
 Which is as dear to me as life itself ; 
 
 But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
 
 Are not with me esteem'd above thy life : 
 
 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
 
 Here to this devil, to deliver you. 
 Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for that, 
 
 If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 
 Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love : 290 
 
 I would she were in heaven, so she could 
 
 Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 
 Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back ; 
 
 The wish would make else an unquiet house. 
 Shy. These be the Christian husbands. I have a daugh- 
 ter; 
 
 Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
 
 Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
 Por. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine : 
 
 The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 300 
 Shy. Most rightful judge! 
 Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast : 
 
 The law allows it, and the court awards it. 
 Shy. Most learned judge ! A sentence ! Come, prepare ! 
 
 101
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. Tarry a little ; there is something else. 
 
 This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; 
 The words expressly are ' a pound of flesh ' : 
 Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
 But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
 One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
 Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 311 
 
 Unto the state of Venice. 
 
 Gra^ O upright judge! Mark, Jew: O learned judge! 
 
 Shy, Is that the law ? 
 
 Per, Thyself shalt see the act : 
 
 Por, as thou urgest justice, be assured 
 Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. 
 
 Gra. O learned judge ! Mark, Jew : a learned judge ! 
 
 Shy. I take this offer, then ; pay the bond thrice, 
 And let the Christian go. 
 
 Bass. Here is the money. 
 
 Por. Soft! 320 
 
 The Jew shall have all justice ; soft ! no haste : 
 He shall have nothing but the penalty. 
 
 Gra. OJew! an upright judge, a learned judge! 
 
 Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
 
 Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less nor more 
 
 But just a pound of flesh : if thou cut'st more 
 
 Or less than a just pound, be it but so much 
 
 As makes it light or heavy in the substance, 
 
 Or the division, of the twentieth part 
 
 Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 330 
 
 But in the estimation of a hair, 
 
 Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. 
 
 Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
 Now, infidel, I have you on the hip. 
 102
 
 OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 Por. Why doth the Jew pause ? take thy forfeiture. 
 Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. 
 Bass. I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 
 Por. He hath refused it in the open court : 
 
 He shall have merely justice and his bond. 
 Gra. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel! 34° 
 
 I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 
 Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal ? 
 For.. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, 
 
 To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 
 Shy. Why, then the devil give him good of it ! 
 
 I '11 stay no longer question. / 
 
 Por. Tarry, Jew : 
 
 The law hath yet another hold on you. / 
 
 It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
 
 If it be proved against an alien 
 
 That by direct or indirect attempts 350 
 
 He seek the life of any citizen, 
 
 The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
 
 Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 
 
 Comes to the privy coffer of the state ; 
 
 And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
 
 Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
 
 In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st ; 
 
 For it appears, by manifest proceeding, 
 
 That indirectly, and directly too, 
 
 Thou hast contrived against the very life 360 
 
 Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurrd 
 
 The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 
 
 Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. 
 Gra, Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself : 
 
 And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
 103
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 
 
 Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. 
 
 Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits, 
 I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 
 For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 370 
 
 The other half comes to the general state, , 
 Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 
 
 Por. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 
 
 Shy. Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that : 
 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. 
 
 Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio? 
 
 Gra. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God's sake. 
 
 Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court 380 
 To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
 I am content ; so he will let me have 
 The other half in use, to render it, 
 Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
 That lately stole his daughter : 
 Two things provided more, that, for this favour, 
 He presently become a Christian ; 
 The other, that he do record a gift, 
 Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, 
 Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 390 
 
 Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 
 The pardon that I late pronounced here. 
 
 Por. Art thou contented, Jew ? what dost thou say ? 
 
 Shy. I am content. 
 
 Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 
 
 Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; 
 I am not well : send the deed after me, 
 104
 
 OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. i. 
 
 And I will sign it. 
 
 Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 
 
 Gra. In christening shalt thou have two godfathers : 
 
 Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten 
 
 more, 
 To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 400 
 
 [Exit Shylock. 
 
 Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 
 
 Por. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon : 
 I must away this night toward Padua, 
 And it is meet I presently set forth. 
 
 Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 
 Antonio, gratify this gentleman, 
 For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke and his train. 
 
 Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
 Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
 Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof, 410 
 
 Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
 We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 
 
 Ant. And stand indebted, over and above, 
 In love and service to you evermore. 
 
 Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied ; 
 And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 
 And therein do account myself well paid : 
 My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
 I pray you, know me when we meet again : 
 I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 420 
 
 Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further : 
 Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
 Not as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you, 
 Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 
 
 105
 
 Act IV. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 
 
 Give me your gloves, I '11 wear them for your sake ; 
 
 [To Ant. 
 
 And, for your love, I '11 take this ring from you : 
 
 [To Bass. 
 
 Do not draw back your hand ; I '11 take no more ; 
 
 And you in love shall not deny me this. 
 Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle ! 430 
 
 I will not shame myself to give you this. 
 Por. I will have nothing else but only this ; 
 
 And now methinks I have a mind to it. 
 Bass. There 's more depends on this than on the value. 
 
 The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 
 
 And find it out by proclamation : 
 
 Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 
 Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers : 
 
 You taught me first to beg ; and now methinks 
 
 You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 440 
 Bass. Good sir, the ring was given me by my wife ; 
 
 And when she put it on, she made me vow 
 
 That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. 
 Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. 
 
 An if your wife be not a mad-woman, 
 
 And know how well I have deserved the ring, 
 
 She would not hold out enemy for ever, 
 
 For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! 
 
 [Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. 
 Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring: 
 
 Let his deservings and my love withal 450 
 
 Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandement. 
 Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; 
 
 Give him the ring ; and bring him, if thou canst, 
 
 106
 
 OF VENICE Act IV. Sc. ii. 
 
 Unto Antonio's house : away ! make haste. 
 
 [Exit Gratiano. 
 Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
 And in the morning early will we both 
 Fly toward Belmont : come, Antonio. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 The same. A street. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed 
 And let him sign it : we '11 away to-night 
 And be a day before our husbands home : 
 This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en : 
 
 My Lord Bassanio upon more advice 
 
 Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat 
 
 Your company at dinner. 
 Por. That cannot be : 
 
 His ring I do accept most thankfully : 
 
 And so, I pray you, tell him : furthermore, 10 
 
 I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. 
 Gra. That will I do. 
 Ner. Sir, I would speak with you. 
 
 I '11 see if I can get my husband's ring, 
 
 [Aside to Portia. 
 
 Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. 
 Por. [Aside to Ner.} Thou mayst, I warrant. We shall 
 have old swearing 
 
 That they did give the rings away to men ; 
 
 107
 
 Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 But we '11 outface them, and outswear them too. 
 [Aloud] Away ! make haste : thou know'st where I 
 will tarry. 
 Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house ? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 Scene I. 
 
 Belmont. Avenue to Portia's house. 
 Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 
 
 Lor. The moon shines bright : in such a night as this, 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
 And they did make no noise, in such a night 
 Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls, 
 And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
 Where Cressid lay that night. 
 
 Jes. In such a night 
 
 Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew, 
 And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
 And ran dismay'd away. 
 
 Lor. In such a night 
 
 Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 10 
 
 Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love 
 To come again to Carthage. 
 
 Jes. In such a night 
 
 Medea gather -d enchanted herbs 
 That did renew old ^Eson. 
 
 Lor. In such a night 
 
 Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, 
 
 108
 
 OF VENICE Act V. Sc. i. 
 
 And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 
 
 As far as Belmont. 
 Jes. In such a night 
 
 Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, 
 
 Stealing her soul with many vows of faith 
 
 And ne'er a true one. 
 Lor. In such a night 20 
 
 Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
 
 Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 
 Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come ; 
 
 But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 
 
 Enter Stephano. 
 
 Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ? 
 
 Steph. A friend. 
 
 Lor. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, 
 friend ? 
 
 Steph. Stephano is my name ; and I bring word 
 My mistress will before the break of day 
 Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 30 
 
 By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
 For happy wedlock hours. 
 
 Lor. Who comes with her? 
 
 Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid. 
 I pray you, is my master yet return'd? 
 
 Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. 
 But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
 And ceremoniously let us prepare 
 Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 
 
 Enter Lanncelot. 
 
 Laun. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola! 
 
 109
 
 Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Lor. Who calls 4° 
 
 Latin. Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo ? Master 
 Lorenzo, sola, sola! 
 
 Lor. Leave hollaing, man : here. 
 
 Latin. Sola! where? where? 
 
 Lor. Here. 
 
 Laun. Tell him there 's a post come from my master, 
 with his horn full of good news : my master will 
 be here ere morning. [Exit. 
 
 Lor. Sweet soul, let 's in, and there expect their coming. 
 And yet no matter : why should we go in ? 50 
 
 My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
 Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 
 And bring your music forth into the air. 
 
 [Exit Stephano. 
 How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
 Here will we 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 60 
 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. 
 
 Enter Musicians. 
 
 Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn ! 
 
 With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 
 
 And draw her home with music, [Music. 
 
 110
 
 OF VENICE Act V. Sc. i. 
 
 Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 
 
 Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 70 
 
 For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
 Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
 Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 
 Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
 If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
 Or any air of music touch their ears, 
 You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
 Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 
 By the sweet power of music : therefore the poet 
 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods ; 
 Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, 81 
 But music for the time doth change his nature. 
 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. Mark the music. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. 
 
 How far that little candle throws his beams ! 90 
 
 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
 
 Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. 
 
 Por, So doth the greater glory dim the less : 
 A substitute shines brightly as a king, 
 Until a king be by; and then his state 
 Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
 Into the main of waters. Music ! hark ! 
 
 Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. 
 
 in
 
 Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect : 
 
 Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. ioo 
 
 Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 
 
 Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, 
 When neither is attended ; and I think 
 The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
 When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
 No better a musician than the wren. 
 How many things by season season'd are 
 To their right praise and true perfection ! 
 Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
 And would not be awaked. [Music ceases. 
 
 Lor. That is the voice, no 
 
 Or I am much deceived, of Portia. 
 
 Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, 
 By the bad voice. 
 
 Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 
 
 Por. We have been praying for our husbands' healths, 
 Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
 Are they return'd? 
 
 Lor. Madam, they are not yet ; 
 
 But there is come a messenger before, 
 To signify their coming. 
 
 Por. Go in, Nerissa; 
 
 Give order to my servants that they take 
 No note at all of our being absent hence ; 120 
 
 Nor you, Lorenzo ; Jessica, nor you. 
 
 [A tucket sounds. 
 
 Lor. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet : 
 We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not. 
 
 Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick ; 
 It looks a little paler : 'tis a day, 
 Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 
 
 112
 
 OF VENICE Act V. Sc. i. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers. 
 
 Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
 If you would walk in absence of the sun. 
 
 Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 
 
 For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 130 
 
 And never be Bassanio so for me : 
 
 But God sort all ! You are welcome home, my lord. 
 
 Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend. 
 This is the man, this is Antonio, 
 To whom I am so infinitely bound. 
 
 Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, 
 For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 
 
 Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. 
 
 Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 
 
 It must appear in other ways than words, 140 
 
 Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 
 
 Gra. [To Nerissa] By yonder moon I swear you do me 
 wrong ; 
 In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk: 
 Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, 
 Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. 
 
 Lor. A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter? 
 
 Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
 That she did give me, whose posy was 
 For all the world like cutler's poetry 
 Upon a knife, ' Love me, and leave me not.' 150 
 
 Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value ? 
 You swore to me, when I did give it you, 
 That you would wear it till your hour of death, 
 And that it should lie with you in your grave : 
 Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, 
 
 113
 
 Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 You should have been respective, and have kept it. 
 
 Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God 's my judge, 
 
 The clerk will ne'er wear hair on 's face that had it. 
 
 Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. 
 
 Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 160 
 
 Gra. Now, by this hand I gave it to a youth, 
 A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, 
 No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, 
 A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee : 
 I could not for my heart deny it him. 
 
 Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, 
 To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
 A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger 
 And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
 I gave my love a ring and made him swear 170 
 
 Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
 I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it. 
 Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
 That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
 You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief : 
 An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 
 
 Bass. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, 
 And swear I lost the ring defending it. 
 
 Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
 
 Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 180 
 
 Deserved it too ; and then the boy, his clerk, 
 That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine ; 
 And neither man nor master would take aught 
 But the two rings. 
 
 Por. What ring gave you, my lord ? 
 
 Not that, I hope, which you received of me. 
 
 Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
 
 114
 
 OF VENICE Act V. Sc. i. 
 
 I would deny it ; but you see my finger 
 Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. 
 Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
 
 By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed % 190 
 Until I see the ring. 
 A/Vr. Nor I in yours 
 
 Till I again see mine. 
 Bass. Sweet Portia, 
 
 If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
 If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
 And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
 And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
 When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
 You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 
 Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, 
 
 Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 200 
 
 Or your own honour to contain the ring, 
 You would not then have parted with the ring. 
 What man is there so much unreasonable, 
 If you had pleased to have defended it 
 With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
 To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
 Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 
 I '11 die for 't but some woman had the ring. 
 Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, 
 
 No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 210 
 
 Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, 
 And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him, 
 And suffer'd him to go displeased away ; 
 Even he that did uphold the very life 
 Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? 
 I was enforced to send it after him ; 
 115
 
 Act V. Sc. I. THE MERCHANT 
 
 I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 
 
 My honour would not let ingratitude 
 
 So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady ; 
 
 For, by these blessed candles of the night, 220 
 
 Ha(f you been there, I think you would have begg'd 
 
 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 
 
 For. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house : 
 Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, 
 And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
 I will become as liberal as you ; 
 I '11 not deny him any thing I have, 
 No, not my body nor my husband's bed : 
 Know him I shall, I am well sure of it : 
 Lie not a night from home ; watch me like Argus : 
 If you do not, if I be left alone, 231 
 
 Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own, 
 I '11 have that doctor for my bedfellow. 
 
 Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advised 
 How you do leave me to mine own protection. 
 
 Gra. Well, do you so, let not me take him, then ; 
 For if I. do, I '11 mar the young clerk's pen. 
 
 Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 
 
 For. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome notwithstand- 
 ing. 
 
 Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong ; 240 
 
 And, in the hearing of these many friends, > 
 I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 
 Wherein I see myself, — 
 
 For. Mark you but that! 
 
 In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ; 
 In each eye, one : swear by your double self, 
 And there 's an oath of credit. 
 
 Bass. Nay, but hear me: 
 
 116
 
 OF VENICE Act V. Sc. i. 
 
 Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 
 I never more will break an oath with thee. 
 
 Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth ; 
 
 Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, 250 
 Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, 
 My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
 Will never more break faith advisedly. 
 
 Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, 
 And bid him keep it better than the other. 
 
 Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. 
 
 Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor ! 
 
 Por. I had it of him : pardon me, Bassanio ; 
 For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me. 
 
 Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; 260 
 
 For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, 
 In lieu of this last night did lie with me. 
 
 Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways 
 In summer, where the ways are fair enough : 
 What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it? 
 
 Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed : 
 Here is a letter ; read it at your leisure ; 
 It comes from Padua, from Bellario : 
 There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
 Nerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here 270 
 
 Shall witness I set forth as soon as you, 
 And even but now return'd ; I have not yet 
 Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome ; 
 And I have better news in store for you 
 Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 
 There you shall find three of your argosies 
 Are richly come to harbour suddenly : 
 You shall not know by what strange accident 
 117
 
 *Act V. Sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 I chanced on this letter 
 
 Ant. I am dumb. 
 
 Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you not ? 280 
 
 Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold? 
 
 Ner. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, 
 Unless he live until he be a man. 
 
 Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow : 
 When I am absent, then lie with my wife. 
 
 Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; 
 For here I read for certain that my ships 
 Are safely come to road. 
 
 Por. How now, Lorenzo ! 
 
 My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 
 
 Ner. Ay, and I '11 give them him without a fee. 290 
 
 There do I give to you and Jessica, 
 From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 
 After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. 
 
 Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
 Of starved people. 
 
 Por. It is almost morning, 
 
 And yet I am sure you are not satisfied 
 Of these events at full. Let us go in ; 
 And charge us there upon inter' gatories. 
 And we will answer all things faithfully. 
 
 Gra. Let it be so : the first inter'gatory 300 
 
 That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is, 
 Whether till the next night she had rather stay, 
 Or go to bed now, being two hours to day : 
 But were the day come, I should wish it dark, 
 That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. 
 Well, while I live I '11 fear no other thing 
 So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeunt. 
 
 118
 
 OF VENICE 
 
 Glossary. 
 
 Abode, delay; II. vi. 21. 
 
 Abridged; "to be a.," *".«?. "at 
 being a."; I. i. 127. 
 
 Address'd me, prepared my- 
 self; II. ix. 19. 
 
 Advice, reflection; IV. ii. 6. 
 
 Advised, cautious, heedful; I. i. 
 
 143- 
 Advisedly, intentionally; V. 1. 
 
 2 53- ... 
 
 Affection, feeling; II. vm. 48. 
 
 Approve, prove, confirm; III. 
 ii. 79- 
 
 Argosies, merchant-ships (orig- 
 inally the large and richly 
 freighted ships of Ragusa) ; 
 I. i. 9. 
 
 Attempt, tempt; IV. i. 421. 
 
 Attended, attended to, marked; 
 V. i. 103. 
 
 Baned, poisoned; IV. i. 46. 
 
 Bare, bare-headed ; II. ix. 44. 
 
 Bated, reduced ; III. iii. 32. 
 
 Beholding, beholden; I. iii. 105. 
 
 Best-regarded, best- looking, 
 handsomest; II. i. 10. 
 
 Blent, blended; III. ii. 182. 
 
 Blest, used with a superlative 
 force, and perhaps a con- 
 tracted form of " blessed'st " ; 
 II. i. 46. 
 
 Bonnet, head-gear; I. ii. 80. 
 
 Bottom, hold of a vessel; I. i. 
 42. 
 
 Break up, break open; II. iv. 
 
 10. 
 Breathing, verbal ; V. i. 141. 
 Burial, burial-place; I. i. 29. 
 By, at hand, near by ; IV. i. 257. 
 
 Cater-cousins, remote relations. 
 good friends; "are scarce 
 c," i.e. " are not great 
 friends " ; II. ii. 134- 
 
 Cerecloth (Quarto 1, sere- 
 cloth; Folios 1, 2, seare- 
 cloath), a cloth dipped in 
 melted wax to be used as a 
 shroud; II. vii. 51. 
 
 Ceremony, sacred object; V. i. 
 206. 
 
 Charge; " on your charge," at 
 your expense; IV. i. 257. 
 
 Cheer, countenance; III. ii. 3U- 
 
 Childhood; " c. proof" (used 
 adjectively) ; I. i. 145- 
 
 Choose, "let it alone!" I. ii. 
 
 50. 
 Circumstance, circumlocution ; 
 
 I. i. 155. 
 
 Civil doctor, doctor of civil 
 
 law; V. i. 210. 
 Civility, civilisation ; II. ii. 200. 
 Close, secret; II. vi. 47- 
 Commends, commendations ; 
 
 II. ix. 90. 
 
 Complexion, nature; III. i. 32. 
 
 119
 
 Glossary 
 
 THE MERCHANT 
 
 Compromised (Folio i, com- 
 premyz'd; Quartos I, 2, com- 
 premyzd; Folios 2, 3, com- 
 primyz'd), come to a mutual 
 agreement ; I. iii. 78. 
 
 Confound, destroy; III. ii. 277. 
 
 Confusions; Launcelot's blun- 
 der for "conclusions'"; II. 
 ii. 38. 
 
 Constant, self-possessed; III. 
 ii. 248. 
 
 Contain, retain; V. i. 201. 
 
 Continent, that which contains 
 anything; III. ii. 130. 
 
 Contrary, wrong; I. ii. 101. 
 
 Contrive, conspire; IV. i. 352. 
 
 Cope, requite; IV. i. 412. 
 
 Counterfeit, likeness; III. ii. 
 115. 
 
 County, count; I. ii. 48. 
 
 Cousin, kinsman ; III. iv. 50. 
 
 Cover, wear hats ; II. ix. 44. 
 
 Cureless (the reading of the 
 Quartos; the Folios read 
 "endless"), beyond cure; 
 IV. i. 142. 
 
 Danger, absolute power (to 
 
 harm) ; IV. i. 180. 
 Death = death's head; II. vii. 
 
 63. 
 Death's head with a bone in his 
 mouth; I. ii. 55; cp- the ac- 
 
 companying seal to a deed of 
 conveyance dated 1613. 
 
 Deface, cancel, destroy ; III. ii. 
 300. 
 
 Difference, dispute ; IV. i. 171. 
 
 Disabled, crippled; I. i. 124. 
 
 Disabling, undervaluing ; II. 
 vii. 30. 
 
 Discover, reveal; II. vii. I. 
 
 Doit, a small coin ; I. iii. 140. 
 
 Drive, commute ; IV. i. 372. 
 
 Ducats; the value of the Vene- 
 tian silver ducat (see cut) 
 was about that of the Amer- 
 ican dollar; I. iii. 1. 
 
 From an engraving by F. W. Faiiholt 
 
 Eanlings, lambs just born; I. 
 iii. 79. 
 
 Entertain, maintain; I. i. 90. 
 
 Equal, equivalent ; I. iii. 149. 
 
 Estate, state; III. ii. 237. 
 
 Excess, interest ; I. iii. 62. 
 
 Excrement, hair; "valour's 
 ex.," i.e. "a brave man's 
 beard"; III. ii. 87. 
 
 Eye; " within the eye of hon- 
 our " ; i.e. " within the sight 
 of h."; "within the scope of 
 honour's vision " ; I. i. 138. 
 
 Fairness, beauty ; III. ii. 94. 
 Faithless, unbelieving; II. iv. 
 
 37- 
 Fall, let fall; I. iii. 88. 
 Falls, falls out ; III. ii. 203. 
 
 120
 
 OF VENICE 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Fancy, love; III. ii. 63, 68. 
 
 Fear'd, frightened; II. i. 9. 
 
 Fearful, filling one with fear; 
 I. iii. 175. 
 
 Fife; " wry-necked f.," a small 
 flute, called flute a bee, the 
 upper part or mouthpiece re- 
 sembling the beak of a bird, 
 hence the epithet " wry- 
 necked " ; according to others 
 "fife" here means the mu- 
 sician, cp. " A fife is a wry- 
 neckt musician, for he always 
 looks away from his instru- 
 ment " (Barnaby ' Riche's 
 Aphorisms, 1016) ; II. v. 30. 
 
 From a sculpture upon a XHIth Cent, 
 building at Rheims. 
 
 Fill-horse (Quarto 2 and Fo- 
 lios ' pil-horse ' ; Theobald, 
 ' thill-horse ' ) , shaft-horse ; 
 II. ii. 96. 
 
 Find forth, find out, seek; I. i. 
 144. 
 
 Flood, waters, seas; I. i. 10; 
 IV. i. 72. 
 
 Fond, foolish; II. ix. 27. 
 
 Foot, spurn with the foot; I. 
 iii. 118. 
 
 Foot, path ; II. iv. 35. 
 Footing, footfall ; V. i. 24. 
 For, of; III. iv. 10. 
 Fraught, freighted; II. viii. 30. 
 Fretten, fretted; IV. i. 77. 
 Fulsome, rank; I. iii. 86. 
 
 Gaberdine, a large loose cloak 
 of coarse stuff; I. iii. 113. 
 
 Gaged, pledged; I. i. 131. 
 
 Gaping pig, a roast pig with a 
 lemon in its mouth ; IV. i. 47. 
 
 Garnish, apparel; II. vi. 45. 
 
 Gear; " for this g.," i.e. for this 
 matter, business ; " a collo- 
 quial expression perhaps of 
 no very determinate im- 
 port " ; I. i. no; II. ii. 171. 
 
 Gelt, mutilated; V. i. 144. 
 
 Gratify, reward; IV. i. 406. 
 
 Gross; " to term in gross," to 
 sum up ; III. ii. 159. 
 
 Guard, guardianship ; I. iii. 175. 
 
 Guarded, ornamented; II. ii. 
 
 159. 
 Guilcd, full of guile, treacher- 
 ous ; III. ii. 97. 
 
 Habit, behaviour ; II. ii. 195. 
 
 Heavens; " for the heavens," 
 for heaven's sake ; II. ii. 12. 
 
 Heaviness, sadness; "his em- 
 braced h." ; the sadness 
 which he hugs ; II. viii. 52. 
 
 High-day, holiday, high-flown, 
 extravagant; II. ix. 98. 
 
 Hip; "catch upon the h." ; a 
 term taken from wrestling, 
 meaning " to have an advan- 
 tage over " ; I. iii. 46. 
 
 Hood, " Hood-mine eyes thus 
 with my hat " ; II. ii. 198. 
 
 121
 
 Glossary 
 
 THE MERCHANT 
 
 From the MS. {temp. Elizabeth) Sloane 
 3794- 
 
 Hovel-post, the support of the 
 roof of an out-house; II. ii. 
 69. 
 
 Husbandry, government, stew- 
 ardship; III. iv. 25. 
 
 Imagined, all imaginable; III. 
 
 iv. 52. 
 Imposition, an imposed task; 
 
 III. iv. 33; a binding ar- 
 rangement; I. ii. in. 
 
 Incarnal; Launcelot's blunder 
 for " incarnate " ; II. ii. 29. 
 
 Inexecrable, beyond execra- 
 tion (perhaps a misprint for 
 " inexorable,'' the reading of 
 the third and fourth Folios) ; 
 
 IV. i. 128. 
 
 Insculp'd, carved in relief; II. 
 vii. 57- 
 
 Jacks, used as a term of con- 
 tempt; III. iv. 77. 
 
 Jump with, agree with; II. ix. 
 32. 
 
 Kept, lived; III. iii. 19. 
 
 Knapped, broke into small 
 pieces (or "nibbled"); III. 
 i. 10 (see Notes). 
 
 Level, aim; I. ii. 41. 
 
 Liberal, free; II. ii. 190. 
 
 Lichas, the servant of Deianira, 
 who brought Hercules the 
 poisoned robe (cp. Ovid, 
 Met. ix. 155) ; II. i. 32. 
 
 Livings, estates ; III. ii. 157. 
 
 Low, humble; I. iii. 43. 
 
 Manage, management ; III. iv. 
 
 25. 
 
 Melancholy bait, bait of melan- 
 choly; I. i. 101. 
 
 Mere, certain, unqualified ; III. 
 ii. 263. 
 
 Mind; " have in mind," bear in 
 mind; I. i. 71. 
 
 Mind of love, loving mind; II. 
 viii. 42. 
 
 Moe, more; I. i. 108. 
 
 Mutual, general, common; V. 
 i. 77- 
 
 Narrow seas, English channel ; 
 
 III. i. 4. 
 Naughty, wicked; III. ii. 18. 
 Nazarite, Nazarene; I. iii. 34. 
 Neat, ox; I. i. 112. 
 Nestor, the oldest of heroes, 
 
 taken as the type of gravity; 
 
 I. i. 56. 
 Nominated, stated; I. iii. 149. 
 Now . . . now, one moment 
 
 ... at the next ; I. i. 35-6. 
 
 Obliged, pledged; II. vi. 7. 
 
 122
 
 OF VENICE 
 
 Glossary 
 
 Occasion; "quarrelling with 
 o.," i.e. " at odds with the 
 matter in question, turning it 
 into ridicule without rea- 
 son " ; III. v. 60. 
 
 O'er-look'd, bewitched; III. ii. 
 15. 
 
 Of, on; II. ii. 99; with, II. iv. 
 
 23- 
 
 Off ends' t, vexest ; IV. i. 140. 
 
 Old (used intensitively), abun- 
 dant, great; IV. ii. 15. 
 
 Opinion of, reputation for; I. 
 i. 91. 
 
 Ostent, demeanour;; II. ii. 201. 
 
 Other, others ; I. i. 54. 
 
 Out-dwells, out-stays ; II. vi. 3. 
 
 Out of doubt, without doubt ; 
 
 I. i. 21 ; I. i. 156. 
 Over-name, run their names 
 
 over ; I. ii. 39. 
 Over-weather d, weather-beat- 
 en; II. vi. 18. 
 
 Pageants, shows; I. i. ir. 
 
 Pain, pains ; II. ii. 190. 
 
 Parts, duties, functions ; IV. i. 
 
 92. 
 Passion, outcry; II. viii. 12. 
 Patch, fool, simpleton, jester; 
 
 II. v. 46. 
 
 Patines; the " patine " is the 
 plate used in the Eucharist ; 
 "patines of bright gold" 
 seems to mean " the orbs of 
 heaven," i.e. either (1) the 
 planets, or (2) the stars; 
 possibly, however, the refer- 
 ence is to "the broken clouds, 
 like flaky disks of curdled 
 gold which slowly drift 
 across the heavens " ; V. i. 59. 
 
 Peizc, to weigh, keep in sus- 
 pense, delay; III. ii. 22. 
 
 Pent-house, a porch with a 
 sloping roof; II. vi. 1. 
 
 Pied, spotted; I. iii. 79. 
 
 Port, importance ; III. ii. 282. 
 
 Possess d, acquainted, in- 
 formed; I. iii. 64. 
 
 Post, " with his horn full of 
 good news," postman ; V. i. 
 47- 
 
 From a tract entitled A Speedy Post. 
 with a Packet of Letters ana Com- 
 />/itnents, n. d. 
 
 Posy, a motto inscribed on the 
 inner side of a ring; V. i. 
 1. 
 
 From a Specimen found at Arreton, 
 Isle of Wight. 
 
 Power, authority ; IV. i. 104. 
 Preferr'd, recommended; II. ii. 
 
 150. 
 Presently, immediately; I. i. 
 
 184. 
 Prest, prepared; I. i. 161. 
 
 123
 
 Glossary 
 
 THE MERCHANT 
 
 Prevented, anticipated; I. i. 
 61. 
 
 Proper, handsome ; I. ii. 76. 
 
 Publican, an allusion perhaps 
 to the parable of the Phari- 
 see and the publican (St. 
 Luke xviii. 10-14) ', I- iii- 41. 
 
 Quaintly, gracefully; II. iv. 6. 
 Question, are disputing, argu- 
 ing; IV. i. 70. 
 Quit, remit; IV. i. 381. 
 
 Raised, roused; II. viii. 4. 
 
 Reason d, had a conversation ; 
 II. viii. 27. 
 
 Regreets, greetings ; II. ix. 89. 
 
 Remorse, compassion ; IV. i. 
 20. 
 
 Repent, regret; IV. i. 278, 279. 
 
 Reproach; Launcelot's blunder 
 for " approach " ; II. v. 20. 
 
 Respect, proper attention (or 
 perhaps " respect to circum- 
 stances ") ; V. i. 99. 
 
 Respect upon; "*you have too 
 much r. u.," i.e. "you look 
 too much upon"; I. i. 74. 
 
 Respective, mindful; V. i. 156. 
 
 Rest; " set up my rest," made 
 up my mind (a phrase prob- 
 ably derived from the game 
 of Primero; resto meant to 
 bet or wager, which appears 
 to have been made by the 
 players only) ; II. ii. 105. 
 
 Rialto; " The Rialto, which is 
 at the farthest side of the 
 bridge as you come from St. 
 Mark's, is a most stately 
 building, being the Exchange 
 of Venice, where the Vene- 
 
 tian gentlemen and mer- 
 chants do meet twice a day. 
 .... This Rialto is of a 
 goodly height, built all with 
 brick as the palaces are, 
 adorned with many fair 
 walks or open galleries, and 
 hath a pretty quadrangular 
 court adjoining to it. But it 
 is inferior to our Exchange 
 in London." — Coryat's Crudi- 
 ties (1611). 
 
 Rib, enclose; II. vii. 51. 
 
 Ripe, urgent ; I. iii. 63. 
 
 Riping, ripening; II. viii. 40. 
 
 Road, port, harbour; V. i. 288. 
 
 Sad, grave; II. ii. 201. 
 Sand-blind, half-blind; II. ii. 
 
 37- 
 
 Scant, moderate; III. ii. 112. 
 
 Scanted, restrained, limited; II. 
 i. 17. 
 
 Scarfed, decorated, beflagged ; 
 II. vi. 15. 
 
 Scrubbed, small, ill-favoured, 
 scrubby ; V. i. 162. 
 
 Self, self-same ; I. i. 149. 
 
 Sense ; " in all sense," with 
 good reason ; V. i. 136. 
 
 Sensible, evident to the senses, 
 substantial, II. ix. 89; sensi- 
 tive, II. viii. 48. 
 
 Should, would; I. ii. 98, 99. 
 
 Shows, outward appearance; 
 II. vii. 20. 
 
 Shrewd, bad, evil ; III. ii. 244. 
 
 Shrive me, be my father-con- 
 fessor; I. ii. 140. 
 
 Sibylla; a reference probably to 
 the Cumsean Sibyl, who ob- 
 tained from Apollo a prom- 
 
 124
 
 OF VENICE 
 
 Glossary 
 
 ise that her years should be 
 as many as the grains of 
 sand she was holding in her 
 hand (cp Ovid, Met. xv.) ; I. 
 ii. 13. 
 Single; " your single bond,'' 
 probably " a bond with your 
 own signature, without the 
 names of sureties " ; I. iii. 
 
 145. 
 
 Slubber, "to slur over"; II. 
 viii. 39. 
 
 Smug, neat; III. i. 47. 
 
 So, provided that; III. ii. 196. 
 
 Sola, sola; " Launcelot is imi- 
 tating the horn of the courier 
 or post " ; V. i. 39. 
 
 Something, somewhat; I. i. 125. 
 
 Sonties; "by God's s.," i.e. "by 
 God's dear saints " ; sonties 
 = "saunties " a diminutive 
 form ; II. ii. 46. 
 
 Soon at, about ; II. iii. 5. 
 
 Sore, sorely; V. i. 307. 
 
 Sort, dispose ; V. i. 132. 
 
 Sort, lottery; I. ii. no. 
 
 Spend, waste; I. i. 154. 
 
 Squandered, scattered ; I. iii. 21. 
 
 Stead, help ; I. iii. 7. 
 
 Still, continually; I. i. 17; I. i. 
 
 137- 
 
 Straight, straightway; II. ix. 1. 
 
 Strange; "exceeding strange," 
 quite strangers ; I. i. 67. 
 
 Stroud, strand; I. i. 172. 
 
 Substance, (?) weight; IV. i. 
 328. 
 
 Suited, apparelled ; I. ii. 78. 
 
 Supposed, spurious, false ; III. 
 ii. 94. 
 
 Supposition, the subject of con- 
 jecture; I. iii. 16. 
 
 Table (see Notes) ; II. ii. 162. 
 Think, bethink; IV. i. 70. 
 Thrift, success, good fortune: 
 
 I. i. 176; profits; I. iii. 50. 
 Time, " springtime of life, 
 
 youth, manhood " ; I. i. 130. 
 Torch-bearer; II. iv. 5 (cp. the 
 
 following illustration). 
 
 From 'Latryumphante.. . entree faicte 
 sur le . - . advenement de . . . prince. 
 Charles des Hespaignes 1 i.e. Emperor 
 Charles V.) ... en sa ville de Bruges' 
 (i5i5)- 
 
 Trancct (so the Quartos and 
 Folios), probably an error 
 for Fr. traject (It. traghet- 
 to), "a ferrie " (so glossed 
 by Cotgrave) ; it is, how- 
 ever noteworthy that in Ital- 
 ian tranare means to draw or 
 drag. " Twenty miles from 
 Padua, on the River Brenta, 
 there is a dam or sluice to 
 prevent the water of that 
 river from mixing with that 
 of the marshes of Venice. 
 Here the passage-boat is 
 drawn out of the river, and 
 
 125
 
 Glossary 
 
 THE MERCHANT 
 
 lifted over the dam by a 
 crane. From hence to Venice 
 this distance is five miles. 
 Perhaps some novel-writer 
 of Shakespeare's time might 
 have called this dam by the 
 name of 'tranect'" (Ma- 
 lone) ; III. iv. 53. 
 
 Tricksy, tricky; III. v. 74. 
 
 Tripolis, Tripoli, the most east- 
 ern of the Barbary States, 
 the market between Europe 
 and Central Africa; I. iii. 17. 
 
 Trust, credit ; I. i. 186. 
 
 Tucket, flourish on a trumpet; 
 V. i. 121. 
 
 Undervalued, inferior ; I. i. 166. 
 
 Unfurnish'd, unmatched with 
 the other, destitute of its fel- 
 low; III. ii. 126. 
 
 Untread, retrace ; II. vi. 10. 
 
 Usance, usury, interest; I. iii. 
 45. 
 
 Use; "in use," i.e. (probably) 
 "in trust" {i.e. in trust for 
 Shylock during his life, for 
 the purpose of securing it at 
 his death to Lorenzo) ; IV. 
 i. 383. 
 
 Vailing, bending; I. i. 28. 
 Varnish' d, painted; II. v. 33. 
 Vasty, vast; II. vii. 41. 
 Very, true, real; III. ii. 224. 
 Virtue, efficacy ; V. i. 199. 
 
 Waft, wafted; V. i. 11. 
 Wealth, welfare; V. i. 249. 
 Weather, storms ; II. ix. 29. 
 Where, whereas; IV. i. 22. 
 While, time; II. i. 31. 
 Wilful stillness, dogged silence ; 
 90. 
 
 Younker, young man, youth; 
 II. vi. 14. 
 
 126
 
 OF VENICE 
 
 Critical Notes. 
 
 BY ISRAEL GOLLANCZ. 
 
 The name ' Shylock ' may have been derived by Shakespeare 
 from a pamphlet called 'Caleb Shillocke his prophecie, or the 
 Jewes Prediction' ; the Pepysian ballad on this subject belongs to 
 the year 1607 ; to the same year belongs a prose piece printed at 
 the end of a rare tract called ' A Jewes Prophecie, or Newes from 
 Rome of two mighty armies, etc! Its ultimate origin is unknown; 
 it may have been an Italian name Scialocca. According to 
 Hunter, Scialac was the name of a Maronite of Mount Libanus, 
 who was living in 1614. It has recently been maintained, with 
 some probability, that the name was perhaps suggested by 
 " Shelah " in the genealogical lists given in Genesis, chapter xi. ; 
 (cp. Tubal, Jessica, evidently chosen because of their Biblical 
 associations). 
 
 I. 1. 27. ' dock'd ' ; Rowe's emendation for ' docks,' the reading 
 of the Quartos and Folios. 
 
 I. i. 113. 'Is that any thing new?' The old editions read 'Is 
 that any thing now'; changed to 'new' by Johnson. Rowe first 
 suggested the interrogation. 
 
 I. ii. 82. "the Scottish lord'; in the first Folio 'Scottish' is 
 changed to ' other.' 
 
 I. ii. 87. 'Alluding to the constant assistance, or rather, con- 
 stant promises of assistance, that the French gave the Scots in 
 their quarrels with the English' (Warburton). 
 
 I. ii. 132. ' The four strangers' ; allusion has been made to six 
 strangers. An interesting oversight on the Poet's part. 
 
 I. iii. 64. ' Is he yet possess' d How much ye would,' so read the 
 second and third Quartos ; the Folios read ' he would ' ; the first 
 Quarto, ' are you resolv'd how much he would have ' ; this is one 
 of the important points in which the second Quarto is superior 
 to the first. 
 
 I. iii. 71. Cp Genesis xxx. 
 
 I. iii. 74. ' the third,' i.e. ' reckoning Abraham himself as the 
 first.' 
 
 127
 
 Notes 
 
 THE MERCHANT 
 
 I. iii. 134. 'A breed for barren metal' the reading of the 
 Quartos; Folios, 'a breed of; 'for' must be equivalent to 'in 
 exchange for ' ; ' breed ' = ' interest money bred from the prin- 
 cipal' {cp. Gr. TOK(%). 
 
 II. i. The old stage direction ran as follows: — 'Enter Morochus 
 a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or foure followers, ac- 
 cordingly, with Portia, Nerissa and their traine! 
 
 II. i. 25. ' the Sophy' cp. " Soli, and SoUto, an ancient word 
 signifying a wise man, learned and skillful in Magike Naturale. 
 It is grown to be the common name of the Emperour of Persia " 
 (Abraham Tartwell's translation of Minadoi's History of the 
 Wars between the Turks and the Persians). 
 
 The ' Sen of Persia ' is mentioned in the German play Der Jude 
 von Venedig. 
 
 II. i. 35. 'page'; Theobald's emendation for 'rage,' the reading 
 of all the old editions. 
 
 II. ii. 1. 'will serve me'; Halliwell, 'the particle not . . . 
 seems essential to the sense of what follows:' 
 
 II. ii. 93. Gobbo's ' you/ as a mark of respect, changes to ' thou,' 
 after the recognition. 
 • II. ii. 162-4. According to Staunton, the table line, or line of 
 
 r\ 
 
 P 
 
 1 f\ 
 
 sj 
 
 ' i ^ j 
 
 f^\ ^ 
 
 J j l 
 
 SSIy 
 
 1 §§§1 
 
 
 /mf^^m 
 
 Table. 
 From a XVth Cent. MS. in the 
 possession of the late T. O. 
 Halliwell- Phi llipps. 
 
 Line of Life. 
 
 From Dr. Trotter's ForUi7ie Book, 
 
 1708. 
 
 fortune, is the line running from the forefinger, below the other 
 three fingers, to the side of the hand. The natural line is the line 
 
 128
 
 OF VENICE Notes 
 
 which curves in a different direction, through the middle of the 
 palm ; and the line of life is the circular line surrounding the ball 
 of the thumb. The space between the two former lines is techni- 
 cally known as the table. " Long and deep lines from the Mount 
 of Venus (the ball of the thumb) towards the line of life, sig- 
 nifieth so many wives. . . . These lines visible and deep, so 
 many wives the party shall have " (Saunder's Chiromancie, quoted 
 by Halliwell). 
 
 II. iii. 12. 'did'; the Quartos and first Folio read 'doe'; the 
 reading ' did ' was given in the second Folio ; if this is adopted, 
 ' get ' = ' beget.' 
 
 II. v. 25. ' Black-Monday/ i.e. Easter Monday, so called, be- 
 cause of a storm which occurred on April 14, 1360, being Easter 
 Monday, when Edward III. was lying with his army before Paris, 
 and when many of his men-at-arms died of cold (Stowe). 
 
 II. v. 36. 'Jacob's staff'; cp. Gen. xxxii. 10, and Heb. xi. 21. 
 ' A Jacob's staff ' was generally used in the sense of ' a pilgrim's 
 staff,' because St. James (or Jacob) was the patron saint of 
 pilgrims. 
 
 II. v. 43. ' a Jewess' eye ' ; the Quartos and Folios read ' a 
 J ewes eye' probably pronounced ' Jezves ' ; ' worth a Jew's eye ' 
 was a proverbial phrase : ' that worth was the price which the 
 Jews paid for immunity from mutilation and death.' The read- 
 ing ' Jewess' ' seems very doubtful. 
 
 II. vi. 51. c by my hood'; this phrase is found nowhere else in 
 Shakespeare; according to Malone, Gratiano is in a masqued 
 habit, to which it is probable that formerly, as at present, a large 
 cape or hood was affixed. 
 
 II. vii. 41. 'The Hyrcanian deserts'; Shakespeare three times 
 mentions the tigers of Hyrcania, ' the name given to a district of 
 indefinite extent south of the Caspian,' where, according to Pliny, 
 tigers were bred. 
 
 II. vii. 53. 'undervalued' ; "in the beginning of Elizabeth's 
 reign, gold was to silver in the proportion of 11 to 1 ; in the forty- 
 third year of her reign it was in the proportion of 10 to 1 " 
 (Clarendon). 
 
 II. vii. 69. 'tombs do'; Johnson's emendation for the old read- 
 ing ' timber do.' 
 
 II. vii. 75. Halliwell notes that this line is a paraphrastical 
 inversion of the common old proverb : ' Farewell, frost,' which 
 was used in the absence or departure of anything that was un- 
 welcome or displeasing. 
 
 129
 
 Notes THE MERCHANT 
 
 III. i. io. 'knapped ginger' ; perhaps 'to knap ginger' is to 
 ' nibble ginger ' ; old women were fond of this condiment : Cot- 
 grave invariably gives ' knap ' as a synonym of ' gnaw ' or ' nibble.' 
 
 III. i. 71. ' humility/ rightly explained by Schmidt as ' kindness, 
 benevolence, humanity.' 
 
 III. i. 122. The special value of the ' turquoise ' was its sup- 
 posed virtue in indicating the health of the wearer : it was said to 
 brighten or fade as its wearer was well or ill, and to give warning 
 of approaching danger. 
 
 III. ii 54. 'more love'; because Hercules rescued Hesione not 
 for love of the lady, but for the sake of the horses promised him 
 by Laomedon. 
 
 III. ii. 99. ' Veiling an Indian beauty' ; it has been pointed out 
 that Montaigne in his Essay on ' Beauty ' says : " The Indians 
 describe it black and swarthy, with blabbered thick lips, with a 
 broad and flat nose." If Shakespeare gives us a reminiscence of 
 this, he must have read Montaigne in French, as Florio's transla- 
 tion was not published until 1603. 
 
 III. ii. 102. 'Hard food for Midas/ who prayed that everything 
 he touched might turn to gold, and soon regretted his prayer. 
 
 III. ii. 106. 'paleness' ; as Bassanio uses 'pale' of silver a few 
 lines before, Theobald, on Warburton's suggestion, proposed to 
 read 'plainness' ; but 'pale' is a regular epithet of lead, and there 
 seems no reason for changing the reading here. 
 
 III. ii. 112. 'rain/ so Folios 1, 2 and Quarto 2; the reading of 
 the third and fourth Quartos ' rein ' is generally preferred ; 
 Quarto 1 'range.' 
 
 III. iv. 63. ' accoutred/ so Folios and later Quartos ; Quarto 1 
 ' apparreld/ in some respects the preferable reading. 
 
 III. v. 79, 80. 'And if on earth he do not mean it, then In 
 reasons'; the second Quarto 'it, it'; the Folios 'it, it is.' 
 
 Various emendations have been suggested for ' mean/ but no 
 change is necessary, though no satisfactory explanation has hith- 
 erto been advanced. I am inclined to think that, with Prof. 
 Skeat's kind assistance, the difficulty may be now removed; 
 ' mean it ' = mean, like ' foot it,' ' trip it ' ; and mean = moan (cp. 
 Midsummer-Night' s Dream, v. i. 330). The sense of the line is 
 clearly, if he don't cry now, he can't expect to sing hereafter. 
 
 IV. i. 36. ' our holy Sabbath ' ; so the first Quarto ; the second 
 reads ' Sabaoth' ; it is just possible that Shakespeare might have 
 been misled by the expression, ' Lord God of Sabaoth,' which 
 occurs in the New Testament. ' Sabbath ' and ' Sabaoth ' {i.e. 
 
 130
 
 OF VENICE 
 
 Notes 
 
 ' hosts,' in the phrase ' Lord of hosts ') were confused even by Sir 
 Walter Scott, when in Ivanhoe, ch. x., he refers to " the gains of 
 a week, aye the space between two Sabaoths." Similarly Spenser 
 (F. Q. vii.2) — 
 
 ' But thenceforth all shall rest eternally 
 With him that is the God of Sabaoth hight! 
 
 Dr. Johnson treated the two words as identical in the first edition 
 of his Dictionary. 
 
 IV. i. 49. ' the bagpipe sings i' the nose.' See illustrations to 
 /. 56. 
 
 IV. i. 50. ' affection, Mistress of passion ' ; the Quartos and 
 Folios read 'affection. Masters of passion.' The reading now 
 generally adopted was first suggested by Thirlby; ' Maistres' or 
 ' mastres' the old spelling of ' mistress', evidently produced the 
 error. ' Affection,' when contrasted with' ' passion/ seems to de- 
 note 'emotions produced through the senses by external objects.' 
 
 IV. i. 56. ' a woollen bagpipe ' ; the reading of all the old 
 editions ; ' wawling,' ' swollen,' ' bollen,' have been variously sug- 
 
 A bagpiper of XlVth Cent. 
 
 From an illumination in the Luterell 
 
 Psalter. 
 
 A bagpiper of XVIIth Cent. 
 From a black-letter ballad. 
 
 gested; 'woollen' probably refers to the covering of the wind- 
 bag. 
 
 IV. i. 184. Cp. ' Mercy is seasonable in the time of affliction, as 
 clouds of rain in the time of drought,' Ecclesiasticus, xxxv. 20. 
 
 131
 
 Notes THE MERCHANT 
 
 IV. i. 255. 'Are there balance'; 'balance' was frequently- 
 treated as a plural by Elizabethan writers, though this is the only 
 instance in Shakespeare. 
 
 IV. i. 451. ' command ement' so Quartos and Folios: clearly to 
 be pronounced as quadrisyllable, Cambridge edition ' command- 
 ment! 
 
 V. i. 4. 'Troilus'; the image is from Chauncer's Troilus and 
 Cresseide; "Upon the wallis fast eke would he walke " (Bk. 
 v. 666). 
 
 V. i. 7-14. Tliisbe, etc.; Hunter (New Illustrations, I. 309) 
 ingeniously suggests that the old Folio of Chaucer was lying 
 open before Shakespeare when he wrote this dialogue, and that 
 there he found Thisbe, Dido, and Medea, as well as Troilus. It 
 is certainly striking that Thisbe, Dido, and Medea follow each 
 other in the 'Legend of Good Women.' Shakespeare has seem- 
 ingly transferred to Dido what he found in Chaucer's Legend 
 concerning Ariadne ('And to the stronde barefote faste she went' 
 — 'And turne agayne, and on the stronde hire fynde'). Chaucer's 
 Medea directed Shakespeare's mind to Ovid, Metam. vii. 
 
 V. i. 15. 'Jessica'; Medea, who stole away from her father, 
 /Eetes, with the golden fleece, suggests Jessica's own story to 
 Lorenzo. 
 
 V. i. 61, etc. " The corresponding passage in Plato is in his 
 tenth book De Republica, where he speaks of the harmony of the 
 Spheres, and represents a syren sitting on each of the eight orbs, 
 and singing to each in its proper tone, while they are thus guided 
 through the heavens, and consent in a diapason of perfect har- 
 mony, the Fates themselves chanting to this celestial music " 
 (Du Bois, The Wreath, p. 60. quoted by Furness). The Platonic 
 doctrine is, however, blended with reminiscences of Job xxxviii. 7, 
 " The morning stars sang together." 
 
 V. i. 65. ' close it in ' ; Quarto 1 and Folios read ' in it' which 
 some editors have taken as equivalent to ' close-in it.' 
 
 V. i. 149. 'Like cutler's poetry Upon a knife.' Cp. accompany- 
 ing illustration. 
 
 ^^ff*2> ntte met ho!jc wrorij&hej ( 
 — •* Z^iltt (Hi bottowers'Spoe &luvz WSjj$}$ 
 
 From an inscribed knife of the XVIIth Cent. Discovered at Norwich. 
 I3 2
 
 OF VENICE 
 
 Notes 
 
 V. i. 193. A similar repetition of the word ' love ' at the end of 
 ten consecutive lines is found in ' The Fayre Mayde of ike 
 Exchange' (1607); cp. Edward III., Act II. Sc. i., where 'the 
 sun ' ends eight consecutive lines. 
 
 ' Two-headed Janus? 
 From an antique engraved in Montfaucon. 
 
 (I. i. 50.) 
 
 133
 
 THE MERCHANT 
 
 Explanatory Notes, 
 
 The Explanatory Notes in this edition have been specially selected and 
 adapted, with emendations after the latest and best authorities, from the 
 most eminent Shakespearian scholars and commentators, including Johnson, 
 Alalone, Steevens, • Singer, Dyce, Hudson, White, Furness, Dowden, and 
 others. This method, here introduced for the first time, provides the best 
 annotation of Shakespeare ever embraced in a single edition. 
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 Scene I. 
 
 [Enter Antonio, etc.] In the old copies there is much confusion 
 in the printing of these names, especially in this first Scene ; and 
 as no list of the persons is there given, we are not a little puzzled 
 how to put them. In the Folio the first stage direction is, Enter 
 Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio. In the dialogue, however, the 
 abbreviation for Salanio presently becomes Sola., which is soon 
 changed to Sol., and then comes the stage direction, Exeunt Sala- 
 rino, and Solanio. And the names are spelt the same way in 
 several other stage directions ; and after the first Scene the abbre- 
 viated prefixes to the speeches uniformly are Sal. and Sol. So 
 that some editors hold that there is abundant authority for reading 
 Solanio instead of Salanio, as it is in most modern editions. As 
 to the distribution of the first few speeches, we have to go partly 
 by conjecture, the names being so perplexed as to afford no sure 
 guidance. The last two speeches before the entrance of Bassanio, 
 which are usually assigned to Salanio, several editors transfer to 
 Salarino, not only because he is the more lively and talkative 
 person, but as according best with the general course of the dia- 
 logue and with his avowed wish to make Antonio merry, and 
 especially because the Quartos favor that arrangement. 
 
 9. Argosies are large ships either for merchandise or for war. 
 The name was probably derived from the classical ship Argo, 
 which carried Jason and the Argonauts in quest of the golden 
 
 134
 
 OF VENICE Notes 
 
 fleece. Readers of Milton will of course remember the passage 
 describing Satan's voyage through chaos : — 
 
 " Harder beset 
 And more endanger'd than when Argo pass'd 
 Through Bosphorus betwixt the justling rocks." 
 
 28. To vail is to lower, to let fall. The Venetian merchants, it 
 would seem, were much used to name their ships for Andrea 
 Doria, the great Genoese admiral. 
 
 97. when, I am very sure : — All the old copies read when here ; 
 and as in such cases the Poet often leaves the subject of a verb 
 understood, the changing of when into who, though common, is 
 hardly admissible. The following lines apparently refer to the 
 judgement pronounced in the Gospel against him who " says to his 
 brother, Thou fool." The meaning, therefore, is, that if those 
 who "only are reputed wise for saying nothing" should go to talk- 
 ing, they would be apt to damn their hearers, by provoking them 
 to utter this foul reproach. 
 
 102. Fool gudgeon appears to mean such a fish as any fool might 
 catch, or none but fools would care to catch. Gudgeon was the 
 name of a small fish very easily caught. 
 
 no. Gear, from the Anglo-Saxon gearwe, and originally mean- 
 ing any thing prepared or made ready, was formerly used for any 
 matter or business in hand. Thus, in an old ballad, entitled The 
 Merry Puck, or Robin Good fellow : — 
 
 " Now Robin Goodfellow, being plac'd with a tailor, as you heare, 
 He grew a workman in short space, so well he ply'd his geare." 
 
 161. Prest, meaning prompt, ready, is from an old French word. 
 Thus in The Faerie Queene, iv. 8. 41 : — 
 
 " Who as he gan the same to him aread, 
 Loe ! hard behind his backe his foe was prest, 
 With dreadful weapon aymed at his head." 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 8,9. Superfluity, that is, one who has riches and indulges in 
 high living, sooner acquires white hairs, becomes old. We still 
 say, how did he come by it? 
 
 43. a colt: — A play on colt, also used for a wild young fellow^ 
 whence the phrase used for an old man too juvenile, that he still 
 
 135
 
 Notes THE MERCHANT 
 
 retains his colt's tooth. The Neapolitans, in the time of Shake- 
 speare, were eminently skilled in all that belongs to horsemanship. 
 
 48. County Palatine: — This may be an allusion to the Count 
 Albertus Alasco, a Polish Palatine, who was in London in 1583. 
 
 52. the weeping philosopher: — Heraclitus of Ephesus, so called 
 in contrast to Democritus, " the laughing philosopher." 
 
 J2 et seq. " A satire on the ignorance of young English travel- 
 lers in Shakespeare's time." So says Warburton ; whereupon 
 Knight justly remarks that "authors are not much in the habit of 
 satirizing themselves ; and yet, according to Farmer and his 
 school, Shakespeare knew ' neither Latin, French, nor Italian.' " 
 
 89, 90. The Duke of Bavaria visited London, and was made a 
 Knight of the Garter, in Shakespeare's time. Perhaps, in this 
 enumeration of Portia's suitors, there may be some covert allusion 
 to those of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 139. condition: — Temper, disposition. So in Othello: "And 
 then of so gentle a condition ! " Likewise, in Tyndale's Works : 
 " Let every man have his wyfe, and thinke her the fayrest and the 
 best conditioned, and every woman her husband so too." 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 21. Squandered is not to be taken in a bad sense here ; it means 
 simply scattered, dispersed. Thus, in Howell's Letters: "The 
 Duke of Savoy, though he pass for one of the princes of Italy, 
 yet the least part of his territories lie there, being squander 'd up 
 and down amongst the Alps." And, again, he speaks of the Jews 
 as a people " squander' d all the earth over." 
 
 45. usance: — "It is almost incredible what gain the Venetians 
 receive by the usury of the Jews, both privately and in common. 
 For in every city the Jews keep open shops of usury, taking gages 
 of ordinary for fifteen in the hundred by the yeare ; and if at the 
 year's end the gage be not redeemed, it is forfeit, or at least done 
 away to a great disadvantage; by reason whereof the Jews are 
 out of measure wealthy in those parts." — Thomas's History of 
 Italy, 1 56 1. 
 
 51. Which he calls interest: — Usance, usury, and interest were 
 
 all terms of precisely the same import in Shakespeare's time; 
 
 there being then no such law or custom whereby usury has since 
 
 ficome to mean the taking of interest above a certain rate. How 
 
 the taking of interest, at whatsoever rate, was commonly esteemed, 
 
 136
 
 OF VENICE Notes 
 
 is shown in Lord Bacon's essay Of Usury, where he mentions the 
 popular arguments against it : " That the usurer is the greatest 
 Sabbath-breaker, because his plough goeth every Sunday ; that the 
 usurer breaketh the first law that was made for mankind after the 
 fall, which was, ' in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread ' ; 
 that usurers should have orange-tawny bonnets, because they do 
 Judaize ; that it is against nature for money to beget money, and 
 the like." The words in Italic show that usury was regarded as 
 a badge of Judaism. 
 
 85. the deed of kind: — Kind in Shakespeare's time was often 
 used for nature. Thus in Fairfax's Tasso, xiv. 42, 48: — 
 
 " But of all herbs, of every spring and well, 
 The hidden power I know and virtue great, 
 And all that kind hath hid from mortal sight." 
 
 " And fair adorn'd was every part 
 With riches grown by kind, not fram'd by art." 
 
 107. In this Scene we have already had " on the Rialto," and 
 "upon the Rialto." Concerning the place meant Rogers thus 
 speaks in one of the notes to his poem on Italy : " Rialto is the 
 name, not of the bridge, but of the island from which it is called, 
 and the Venetians say il ponte di Rialto, as we say Westminster 
 bridge. In that island is the exchange ; and I have often walked 
 there as on classic ground. In the days of Antonio and Bassanio 
 it was second to none. It was there that the Christian held dis- 
 course with the Jew ; and Shylock refers to it when he says : — 
 
 ' Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
 In the Rialto you have rated me.' " 
 
 Mr. Knight says the " name is derived from riva alta, high shore, 
 and its being larger, and somewhat more elevated than the others, 
 accounts for its being first inhabited. The most ancient church of 
 the city is there, and there were erected the buildings for the 
 magistracy and commerce of the infant settlement." 
 
 175. Fearful guard is a guard that is not to be trusted, but gives 
 cause of fear. To fear was anciently to give as well as feel 
 terrors. 
 
 137
 
 Notes THE MERCHANT 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 * Scene I. 
 
 6. let us make incision, etc. : — To understand how the tawny 
 prince, whose savage dignity is well supported, means to recom- 
 mend himself by this challenge, it must be remembered that red 
 blood is a traditionary sign of courage. Thus Macbeth calls his 
 frightened servant a lily liver' d boy; again, in this play, cowards 
 are said to have livers white as milk ; and an effeminate man is 
 termed a milksop. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 12. for the heavens: — A petty oath. To make the fiend conjure 
 Launcelot to do a thing for heaven's sake, is a specimen of that 
 " acute nonsense " which Barrow makes one of the species of wit, 
 and which Shakespeare was sometimes very fond of. 
 
 57. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot: — So in Love's La- 
 bour 's Lost, Costard says : " Your servant and Costard." It ap- 
 pears that old Gobbo himself was named Launcelot : hence in the 
 next speech Launcelot junior beseeches him to talk of young 
 Master Launcelot. The sense here is commonly defeated by 
 making the speech interrogative. The reader will of course see 
 that Launcelot senior scruples to give his son the title of Master. 
 
 105. / have set up my rest: — That is, determined. In Romeo 
 and Juliet, IV. v., Shakespeare has again quibbled upon rest. 
 "The County Paris hath set up his rest, that you shall rest but 
 little." 
 
 112, 113. run as far, etc.: — To understand the appropriateness 
 of these words, we must remember that in Venice it was not easy 
 to find ground enough to run upon. 
 
 139. a dish of doves: — There has been no little speculation 
 among the later critics whether Shakespeare ever visited Italy. 
 C. A. Brown argues strongly that he did, and refers to this pas- 
 sage among others in proof of it. His argument runs thus : 
 " Where did he obtain his numerous graphic touches of national 
 manners? where did he learn of an old villager's coming into the 
 city with 'a dish of doves' as a present to his son's master? A 
 present thus given, and in our days too, and of doves, is not un- 
 common in Italy. I myself have" partaken there, with due relish, 
 in memory of poor old Gobbo, of a dish of doves, presented by the 
 
 138
 
 OF VENICE Notes 
 
 father of a servant." To the same purpose this ingenious writer 
 quotes other passages, as inferring such a knowledge of the coun- 
 try as could hardly have been gained from books. Of course it 
 does not follow but that the Poet may have gained it by con- 
 versing with other travellers; and it is well known that Kemp, a 
 fellow actor, visited Italy. 
 
 161. et seq. Well, if any man, etc. : — Mr. Tyrwhitt thus explains 
 this passage : " Launcelot, applauding himself for his success with 
 Bassanio, and looking into the palm of his hand, which by fortune- 
 tellers is called the tabic, breaks out into the following reflection: 
 ' Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table ! which doth offer 
 to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune ' — that is, a 
 table which doth not only promise but offer to swear upon a book 
 that I shall have good fortune. He omits the conclusion of the 
 sentence." Launcelot was an adept in the art of chiromancy, 
 which in his time had its learned professors and practitioners no 
 less than astrology. Relics of this superstition have floated down 
 to our day. and it is not uncommon to see people trying to 
 study out their fortune from the palms of their hands. Launcelot 
 Gobbo, however, was more highly favoured than they; in 1558 
 was put forth a book by John Indagine, entitled Brief Introduc- 
 tions, both natural, pleasant, and also delectable, unto the Art of 
 Chiromancy, or manual divination, and Physiognomy: with cir- 
 cumstances upon the faces of the Signes. " A simple line of life " 
 written in the palm was cause of exultation to wiser ones than 
 young Gobbo. His huge complacency, as he spells out his fortune, 
 is in laughable keeping with his general skill at finding causes to 
 think well of himself. 
 
 198, 199. hood mine eyes, etc. : — It was the custom to wear the 
 hat during the time of dinner. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 24,25. it was not for nothing, etc.: — Bleeding at the nose was 
 anciently considered ominous. 
 
 30. There has been some dispute whether zvry-neck'd fife mean 
 the instrument or the musician. Boswell cited a passage from 
 Barnabe Rich's Aphorisms, 1618, which appears to settle the mat- 
 ter: "A fife is a wry-neckt musician, for he always looks away 
 from his instrument." 
 
 139
 
 Notes THE MERCHANT 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 5. Johnson thought that lovers, who are sometimes called tur- 
 tles or doves in poetry, were meant by Venus's pigeons. The al- 
 lusion, however, seems to be to the doves by which Venus's 
 chariot was drawn. 
 
 51. A jest arising from the ambiguity of Gentile, which signifies 
 both a heathen and one well born. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 56, 57. an angel . . . insculp'd upon : — This is the angel re- 
 ferred to by Falstaff in his interview with the Chief Justice : 
 "Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light." It appears to have 
 been the national coin in Shakespeare's time. The custom of 
 stamping an angel upon the coin is thus explained by Verstegan in 
 his Restitution of Decayed Intelligence : " The name of Engel is 
 yet at this present in all the Teutonic tongues as much as to say, 
 an Angel ; and if a Dutchman be asked how he would in his 
 language call an Angel-like-man, he would answer, ein English- 
 man. And such reason and consideration may have moved our 
 former kings, upon their best coin of pure and fine gold, to set 
 the image of an angel, which hath as well been used before the 
 Norman Conquest, as since." Readers of Wordsworth will be 
 apt to remember, in this connection, a fine passage in one of his 
 Ecclesiastical Sonnets: — 
 
 " A bright-haired company of youthful slaves, 
 Beautiful strangers, stand within the pale 
 Of a sad market, ranged for public sale, 
 Where Tiber's stream the immortal City laves : 
 Angli by name ; and not an Angel waves 
 His wing, who could seem lovelier to man's eye 
 Than they appear to holy Gregory ; 
 Who, having learnt that name, salvation craves 
 For Them and for their Land." 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 39. Slubber not business: — To slubber is to do a thing care- 
 lessly. Thus, in Fuller's Worthies of Yorkshire : " Slightly slub- 
 
 140
 
 OF VENICE Notes 
 
 bering it over, doing something for show, and nothing to pur- 
 pose." Likewise, in Song 21 of Drayton's Polyolbion : — 
 
 " Not such as basely soothe the humour of the time, 
 And slubberingly patch up some slight and shallow rhyme." 
 
 Scene IX. 
 
 78. Wroth is used in some of the old writers for suffering. So 
 in Chapman's 22d Iliad: " Born all to wroth of woe and labour." 
 But indeed the original meaning of wrath is pain, grief, anger, 
 anything that makes one writhe ; and the text but exemplifies a 
 common form of speech, putting the effect for the cause. 
 
 85. my lord? — A humorous reply to the Servant's "Where is 
 my lady ? " So in Richard II., V. v., a groom says to the King, 
 "Hail, royal prince !" and he replies, "Thanks, noble peerl" 
 And 1 Henry IV., II. iv., the Hostess says to Prince Henry, 
 " O Jesu ! my lord, the Prince ! " and he replies, " How now, my 
 lady, the hostess ! " 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 Scene I. 
 
 122. my turquoise : — The Turquoise is a well known precious 
 stone. In old times its value was much enhanced by the magic 
 properties attributed to it in common with other precious stones, 
 one of which was that it faded or brightened its hue as the health 
 of the wearer increased or grew less. This is alluded to by Ben 
 Jonson in his Sejanus : " And true as Turkise in my dear lord's 
 ring, look well or ill with him." Other virtues were also imputed 
 to it. Thomas Nicols, in his translation of Anselm de Boot's 
 Lapidary, says this stone " is likewise said to take away all enmity, 
 and to reconcile man and wife." This quality may have moved 
 Leah to present it to Shylock. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 15. To be o'erlook'd or eye-bitten, was a term for being be- 
 witched by an evil eye. It is used again in The Merry Wives of 
 Windsor, V. v. 
 
 141
 
 Notes THE MERCHANT 
 
 44. a swan-like end : — Alluding to the opinion which long pre- 
 vailed, that the swan uttered a plaintive musical sound at the 
 approach of death. There is something so touching in this an- 
 cient superstition, that one feels loth to be undeceived. 
 
 87. Excrement, from excrcsco, is used for everything which ap- 
 pears to grow or vegetate upon the human body, as the hair, the 
 beard, the nails. See Love's Labour 's Lost, V. i. 
 
 95,96. the dowry . . . sepulchre: — The Poet has often ex- 
 pressed a strong dislike of the custom, then in vogue, of wearing 
 false hair. See Much Ado About Nothing, II. iii. And his sixty- 
 eighth Sonnet has a passage very like that in the text : — 
 
 " Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, 
 When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, 
 Before these bastard signs of fair were born, 
 Or durst inhabit on a living brow ; 
 Before the golden tresses of the dead, 
 The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, 
 To live a second life on second head; 
 Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay." 
 
 97. Guiled for guiling, that is, beguiling. The Poet often thus 
 uses the passive form with an active sense, and vice versa. In Act 
 I. Sc. iii. of this play, we have beholding for beholden. See, also, 
 Measure for Measure, III. i. 
 
 115. Counterfeit anciently signified a likeness or portrait. So in 
 The Wit of a Woman, 1634: "I will see if I can agree with this 
 stranger for the drawing of my daughter's counterfeit." And 
 Hamlet calls the pictures he shows to his mother " the counterfeit 
 presentment of two brothers." 
 
 126. unfurnish'd: — That is, unfurnished with a companion or 
 fellow. In Fletcher's Lover's Progress, Alcidon says to Clarange, 
 on delivering Lidian's challenge, which Clarange accepts : — 
 
 " You are a noble gentleman. 
 Will 't please you bring a friend? we are two of us, 
 And pity either, sir, should be unfurnish'd." 
 
 The hint for this passage appears to have been taken from Greene's 
 History of Faire Bellora, afterwards published under the title of 
 A Paire of Turtle Doves : " If Apelles had been tasked to have 
 drawne her counterfeit, her two bright burning lampes would have 
 so dazzled his quick-seeing sences, that, quite despairing to ex- 
 presse with his cunning pensill so admirable a worke of nature, he 
 
 142.
 
 OF VENICE Notes 
 
 had been inforced to have staid his hand, and left this earthly- 
 Venus unfinished." 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 26 et seq. The Duke cannot deny, etc.: — For the due under- 
 standing of this passage, it should be borne in mind, that Antonio 
 was one of the citizens, while Shylock was reckoned among the 
 strangers of the place. And since the city was benefited as much 
 by the trade and commerce of foreigners as of natives, justice 
 evidently required that the law should give equal advantages to 
 them both. But to stop the course of law in behalf of citizens 
 against strangers would be putting the latter at a disadvantage 
 and so would clearly impeach the justice of the state. We give 
 the passage as proposed by Capell and approved by Knight. In 
 this reading for means the same as because of — a sense in which 
 it is often used by the Poet : — 
 
 " The Duke cannot deny the course of law, 
 For the commodity that strangers have 
 With us in Venice : if it be denied, 
 'Twill much impeach the justice of the state." 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 7. lover : — Used very often by Shakespeare and other writers of 
 his time for friend. The Poet's Sonnets are full of examples in 
 point. 
 
 52. with imagined speed: — That is, with the celerity of imagina- 
 tion. So in the Chorus preceding the third Act of Henry V. : 
 " Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies." 
 
 72. / could not do withal: — A phrase of the time, signifying / 
 could not help it. So in the Morte d' Arthur: " None of them will 
 say well of you, nor none of them will doe battle for you, and that 
 shall be great slaunder for you in this court. Alas ! said the queen, 
 / cannot doe withall." And in Fletcher's Little French Lawyer, 
 Dinant, who is reproached by Clerimont for not silencing the 
 music, which endangered his safety, replies: "/ cannot do withal; 
 I have spoke and spoke ; I am betrayed and lost too." And in 
 Palsgrave's Table of Verbes, quoted by Dyce : " I can not do 
 withall, a thyng lyeth not in me, or I am not in faulte that a thyng 
 is done." 
 
 143
 
 Notes THE MERCHANT 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 3. / fear you : — That is, fear for you, or on your account. So 
 in Richard III., I. i. : — 
 
 " The king is sickly, weak and melancholy, 
 And his physicians fear him mightily." 
 
 46-49. How every fool, etc. : — A shrewd proof that the Poet 
 rightly estimated the small wit, the puns, and verbal tricks in 
 which he so often indulges. He did it to please others, not 
 himself. 
 
 68 et seq. The fool hath planted, etc. : — Probably an allusion to 
 the habit of wit-snapping, the constant straining to speak out of 
 the common way, which then filled the highest places of learning 
 and of the state. One could scarce come at the matter, it was so 
 finely flourished in the speaking. But such an epidemic was easier 
 to censure than to avoid. Launcelot is a good satire upon the 
 practice, though the satire rebounds upon the Poet himself. 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 Scene I. 
 
 10. Envy in this place means hatred or malice ; a frequent use of 
 the word in Shakespeare's time, as every reader of the English 
 Bible ought to know. 
 
 29. royal merchant: — This epithet was striking and well under- 
 stood in Shakespeare's time, when Gresham was dignified with the 
 title of the royal merchant, both from his wealth, and because he 
 constantly transacted the mercantile business of Queen Elizabeth. 
 And there were similar ones at Venice, such as the Giustiniani and 
 the Grimaldi. 
 
 42 et seq. I'll not answer that, etc.: — The Jew, being asked a 
 question which the law does not require him to answer, stands 
 upon his right and refuses; but afterwards gratifies his own 
 malignity by such answers as he knows will aggravate the pain 
 of the inquirer. 
 
 43. In Shakespeare's time the word humour was used, much as 
 conscience often is now, to excuse or justify any eccentric impulse 
 of vanity, opinion, or self-will, for which no common ground of 
 reason or experience could be alleged. Thus, if a man had an 
 
 144
 
 OF VENICE Notes 
 
 individual crotchet which he meant should override the laws and 
 conditions of our social being, it was his humour. Corporal Nym 
 is a burlesque on this sort of affectation. And the thing is well 
 illustrated in one of Rowland's Epigrams: — 
 
 " Aske Humors, why a fether he doth weare? 
 It is his humour, by the Lord, heele s weare." 
 
 47. a gaping pig: — A pig prepared for the table is most prob- 
 ably meant, for in that state is the epithet gaping most applicable 
 to this animal. So in Fletcher's Elder Brother : " And they stand 
 gaping like a roasted pig." And in Nash's Pierce Penniless: 
 " The causes conducting unto wrath are as diverse as the actions 
 of a man's life. Some will take on like a madman if they see 
 a pig come to the table." 
 
 49 et seq. And others, when the bagpipe, etc.: — This passage 
 has occasioned a vast deal of controversy. In the old copies it 
 is printed thus : — 
 
 "And others, when the bag-pipe sings i' the nose, 
 Cannot contain their urine for affection. 
 Masters of passion sways it to the mood," etc. 
 
 Where the discrepancy of Masters and sways is obvious enough. 
 There had been a very general agreement in the reading we have 
 given, until Collier broke in upon it. Against his, and in favor 
 of the received lection, Dyce remarks : " The preceding part of 
 the passage clearly shows that there must be a pause at urine ; 
 and also that for affection must be connected with the next line. 
 Shylock states three circumstances ; first, that some men dislike a 
 gaping pig; secondly, that some are mad if they see a cat; thirdly, 
 that some, at the sound of the bagpipe, cannot contain their urine : 
 and he then accounts for these three peculiarities on a general 
 principle." 
 
 126. envy : — Malice, as before in line 10 of this Scene. This 
 passage is well illustrated by one in 2 Henry IV., IV. iv. : — 
 
 "Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, 
 Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, 
 To stab at half an hour of my life." 
 
 180. Richardson says : " In French and old English law, danger 
 seems equivalent to penalty, damages, commissi poena. Thus, 
 
 145
 
 Notes THE MERCHANT 
 
 ' Narcissus was a bachelere that love had caught in his daungere ; 
 that is, within the reach of hurtful, mischievous power. Thus also, 
 ' In danger hadde he at his owen gise the yonge girles of the 
 diocise.' And in R. Brunne, ' All was in the erle's dangere.' 
 And again, ' He was never wedded to woman's danger ' ; that is, 
 woman's dangerous power." Shakespeare has a like use of the 
 word in his Venus and Adonis: " Come not within his danger by 
 your will." 
 
 200-202. " Portia, referring the Jew to the Christian doctrine of 
 Salvation, and the Lord's Prayer, is a little out of character." So 
 says Sir William Blackstone ; forgetting that the Lord's Prayer 
 was in itself but a compilation, all the petitions in it being taken 
 out of the ancient euchologies or prayer-books of the Jews. " So 
 far," says Grotius, "was the Lord Himself of the Christian 
 Church from all affectation of unnecessary novelty." So in Ec- 
 clesiasticus, xxviii. 2 : " Forgive thy neighbour the hurt that he 
 hath done unto thee, so shall thy sins also be forgiven when thou 
 prayest." 
 
 296. Barrabas : — Shakespeare seems to have followed the pro- 
 nunciation usual to the theatre, Barabbas being sounded Barabas 
 throughout Marlowe's Jew of Malta. 
 
 399. ten more: — To make up a jury of twelve men to condemn 
 him. This appears to have been an old joke. So in The Devil is 
 an Ass, by Ben Jonson : " I will leave you to your godfathers in 
 law. Let twelve men work." 
 
 412. cope : — The only instance, that Hudson remembers to have 
 met with, of the word cope being used in the sense of reward 
 or requite. A like use of the word in composition, however, 
 occurs in Ben Jonson's play The Fox, iii. 5 : — 
 
 " Assure thee, Celia, he that would sell thee, 
 Only for hope of gain, and that uncertain, 
 He would have sold his part of Paradise 
 For ready money, had he met a cope-man." 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 15. old swearing : — Old was a common intensive in the collo- 
 quial language of Shakespeare's time. So in Much Ado About 
 Nothing, V. ii. : " Yonder 's old coil [confusion] at home." 
 
 146
 
 OF VENICE Notes 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 i. There is such an air of reality and of first-hand knowledge 
 about this bewitching scene, as certainly lends some support to the 
 notion of the Poet's having visited Italy ; it being scarce credible 
 that any one should have put so much of an Italian moonlight 
 evening into a description, upon the strength of what he had seen 
 in England. But what is quite remarkable, the vividness of the 
 scene is helped on by the very thing that would seem most likely 
 to hinder it. The running of " in such a night " into such a vari- 
 ety of classic allusion and imagery, and gradually drawing it 
 round into the late and finally into the present experiences of the 
 speakers, gives to the whole the freshness and originality of an 
 actual occurrence ; the remembrance of what they have read being 
 quickened by the inspiration of what lies before them. 
 
 30-32. she doth stray about, etc. :— One of the finest touches in 
 the delineation of Portia is this associating of a solicitude for 
 wedded happiness with the charity and humility of a religious and 
 prayerful spirit. The binding of our life up with another's natu- 
 rally sends us to him who may indeed be our Father, but not 
 mine. A writer in the Pictorial edition remarks that " these holy 
 crosses, still as of old, bristle the land in Italy, and sanctify the 
 sea. Besides those contained in churches, they mark the spots 
 where heroes were born, where saints rested, where travellers 
 died. They rise on the summits of hills, and at the intersection 
 of roads. The days are past when pilgrims of all ranks, from the 
 queen to the beggar-maid, might be seen kneeling and praying 
 'for happy wedlock hours/ or whatever else lay nearest their 
 hearts ; and the reverence of the passing traveller is now nearly 
 all the homage that is paid at these shrines." The old English 
 feeling on this score is thus shown in The Merry Devil of Ed- 
 monton : — 
 
 " But there are crosses, wife : here's one in Waltham, 
 Another at the Abbey, and the third 
 At Ceston ; and 'tis ominous to pass 
 Any of these without a Pater-noster." 
 
 63-65. Such harmony, etc. :— A passage somewhat resembling 
 that in the text occurs in Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity : " Touch- 
 
 147
 
 Notes THE MERCHANT 
 
 ing musical harmony, such is the force thereof, and so pleasing 
 effects it hath in that very part of man which is most divine, that 
 some have thereby been induced to think that the soul itself by 
 nature is or hath in it harmony." The book containing this came 
 out in 1597; so that there could not well be any obligation either 
 way between Hooker and Shakespeare. Of course everybody has 
 heard of " the music of the spheres," an ancient mystery which 
 taught that the heavenly bodies in their revolutions sing together 
 in a concert so loud, various, and sweet, as to exceed all propor- 
 tion to the human ear. And the greatest souls, from Plato to 
 Wordsworth, have been lifted above themselves, and have waxed 
 greater than their wont, with an idea or intuition that the universe 
 was knit together by a principle of which musical harmony is the 
 aptest and clearest expression. Perhaps the very sublimity of this 
 notion has furthered the turning of it into a jest; yet there seems 
 to be a strange virtue in it, that it cannot die ; and thoughtful 
 minds, though apt to smile at it, are still more apt to grow big 
 with the conception. Thus Milton, in his Arcades, speaks of 
 
 " the celestial sirens' harmony 
 That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, 
 And sing to those that hold the vital shears, 
 And turn the adamantine spindle round, 
 On which the' fate of gods and men is wound. 
 Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, 
 To lull the daughters of Necessity, 
 And keep unsteady Nature to her law. 
 And the low world in measur'd motion draw 
 After the heavenly tune, which none can hear, 
 Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear." 
 
 And in Coleridge's Remorse, III. i., are lines not unworthy of a 
 place beside these, wherein he speaks 
 
 " Of that innumerable company 
 Who in broad circle, lovelier than the rainbow, 
 Girdle this round earth in a dizzy motion, 
 With noise too vast and constant to be heard; 
 Fitliest unheard ! For, O, ye numberless 
 And rapid travellers ! what ear unstunn'd, 
 What sense unmadden'd, might bear up against 
 The rushing of your congregated wings? " 
 
 148
 
 OF VENICE Notes 
 
 And, finally, Wordsworth, in his magnificent lyric On the Power 
 of Sound, thus refers to the same great theme : — 
 
 " By one pervading spirit 
 Of tones and numbers all things are controlled, 
 As sages taught, where faith was found to merit 
 Initiation in that mystery old. 
 
 The heavens, whose aspect makes our minds as still 
 As they themselves appear to be, 
 Innumerable voices fill 
 With everlasting harmony ; 
 The towering headlands, crowned with mist, 
 Their feet among the billows, know 
 That Ocean is a mighty harmonist ; 
 Thy pinions, universal Air, 
 Ever waving to and fro, 
 Are delegates of harmony, and bear 
 Strains that support the Seasons in their round." 
 
 124-126. This night methinks, etc. : — A writer in the Pictorial 
 Shakspere thus remarks upon this passage : " The light of moon 
 and stars in Italy is almost as yellow as sunlight. The planets 
 burn like golden lamps above the pinnacles and pillared statues 
 of the city and the tree-tops of the plain, with a brilliancy which 
 cannot be imagined by those who have dwelt only in a northern 
 climate. The infant may there hold out its hands, not only for 
 the full moon, but for ' the old moon sitting in the young moon's 
 lap ' — an appearance there as obvious to the eye as any constel- 
 lation." 
 
 141. this breathing courtesy : — This complimentary form, made 
 up only of breath ; that is, of words. 
 
 201. Contain was sometimes used in the sense of retain. So in 
 Bacon's Essays : " To containe anger from mischiefe, though it 
 take hold of a man, there be two things." 
 
 149
 
 THE MERCHANT 
 
 Questions on 
 The Merchant of Venice. 
 
 i. Do you classify this play as comedy, tragedy, or romance? 
 
 2. When was it written? 
 
 3. What materials from earlier literature were employed? Com- 
 pare this play with Marlowe's Jew of Malta. 
 
 4. What difficulties are there in establishing the duration of the 
 action? 
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 
 5. What is foreshadowed in the mood of sadness in Antonio 
 with which the play opens ? 
 
 6. How is the social importance of Antonio shown in the dia- 
 logue of his friends? W r hat is implied as to his dramatic impor- 
 tance in this play? 
 
 7. How does Antonio answer their suggestions that either dan- 
 gers to property or thoughts of love disturb him ? 
 
 8. Characterize Antonio's speech to Salanio and Salarino upon 
 their departure. 
 
 9. What impression does Gratiano make by his first speech? 
 Does Bassanio's estimate of him seem just? 
 
 10. How does Antonio suggest Touchstone? What request of him 
 does Bassanio make, and how does Antonio answer the request? 
 
 11. Give Bassanio's story. What principal character is men- 
 tioned for the first time? 
 
 12. How do Portia's first words repeat Antonio's? In both 
 cases, is there indicated a settled trait of character, or is there 
 here expressed simply a foreboding? 
 
 13. What do we learn of the spiritual plight of Portia? How is 
 the power of choice discussed'? 
 
 14. Indicate something of her temperament as displayed in the 
 the power of choice discussed? 
 
 15. How is Bassanio mentioned? 
 
 16. What trait of character is first depicted in Shylock? 
 
 17. What is Shylock's personal attitude towards Antonio? 
 
 150
 
 * OF VENICE Questions 
 
 18. Comment on the charges against Antonio that we find in 
 Shylock's arraignment of him. 
 
 19. What is the dramatic significance of Antonio's speech in 
 Sc. iii., beginning line 130? 
 
 20. State the conclusion of the bargain with Shylock. 
 
 21. Does Antonio show any suspicion of the Jew's motive? 
 Account for the motive that made Bassanio draw back from the 
 bond. 
 
 22. There are three centres of interest established by the first 
 Act, that of the story of Antonio, the story of the Jew (though 
 these two are closely interwoven from the start), and the love 
 affair of Bassanio and Portia. Are the causes for the action laid 
 out, and the results foreshadowed? 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 23. Explain the reasons for the alternations of the scene between 
 Venice and Belmont in the second Act. 
 
 24. What is the dramatic purpose of the scene between the 
 Prince of Morocco and Portia? 
 
 25. What is the episodic value of Sc. ii. as concerns Launcelot 
 and Old Gobbo? Compare the foolery of Launcelot with that of 
 his prototype Launce {Two Gentlemen of Verona). 
 
 26. By leaving the service of Shylock for that of Bassanio, what 
 function does Launcelot play in the development of the plot? 
 
 27. What engagement does Gratiano enter into with Bassanio? 
 
 28. What is Jessica's feeling towards her father? How does 
 Shakespeare furnish justification for this feeling? 
 
 29. How is Launcelot the agent whereby the complication is 
 assisted in two particulars? 
 
 30. For what is Lorenzo's speech at the close of Sc. iv. a prepa- 
 ration ? 
 
 31. How does Shylock show his malignity in accepting Bas- 
 sanio's invitation to supper? 
 
 32. What touch to the friendship of Antonio and Bassanio 
 does the end of Sc. vi. furnish? 
 
 33. How does the Prince of Morocco choose, and what type 
 of mind is seen in him? What fitness to his case is there in the 
 inscription he finds? 
 
 34. Why is the scene of Shylock's passion reported by Salanio 
 not enacted before the spectators ? 
 
 iSi
 
 Questions THE MERCHANT 
 
 35. The scene above mentioned, taken together with Salarino's 
 report of the parting of Bassanio and Antonio, makes Sc. viii. 
 of what dramatic significance? 
 
 36. What was enjoined upon every one who made a hazard of 
 his fortunes with the caskets? 
 
 37. What type of mind is depicted in the Prince of Arragon ? 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 38. Show how a cumulative effect is produced by revealing the 
 losses of Antonio. 
 
 39. How is there, in parity with this, a revelation of his amiable 
 qualities ? 
 
 40. What is the dramatic effect of the entrance of Shylock in 
 Sc. i.? 
 
 41. How is he affected by the flight of his daughter? 
 
 42. Had Shylock any knowledge of Antonio's losses as evi- 
 denced by his reply to Salarino? Is it a general defense of his 
 right to his bond, irrespective of any knowledge that it was for- 
 feit, that he delivers? 
 
 43. Show what essential traits Tubal and Shylock possess in 
 common, and how they differ in superficial ones. 
 
 44. Summarize the passions displayed by Shylock in this scene 
 with Tubal. What traits are human and pathetic? 
 
 45. What is Portia's emotional state while Bassanio is making 
 the choice of the caskets? . 
 
 46. Explain the meaning of fancy in the song. 
 
 47. While Bassanio is examining the caskets, what is his com- 
 ment ? 
 
 48. Describe how Portia expresses the ecstasy of love. 
 
 49. How is the ring introduced? For what is it a preparation? 
 What is Bassanio's declaration concerning it? 
 
 50. What is the dramatic effect of the plighting of Gratiano and 
 Nerissa? 
 
 51. What effects are secured and what turn is given to the 
 action by the entrance of Salerio with the letter? 
 
 52. Indicate the episodic value of Sc. iii. 
 
 53. How are friendship and love brought into consideration in 
 Sc. iv. ? What preparation for succeeding action is here presented ? 
 
 54. Compare Portia's and Jessica's comments on their masquer- 
 ading as men. 
 
 152
 
 OF VENICE Questions 
 
 55. Do you derive any impression of Shakespeare's own view 
 of small wit and punning, such as frequently appear in his plays r 
 
 56. If he held them in slight regard, why did he indulge in 
 them so much? 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 57. What words of Antonio uttered at the beginning of the 
 trial scene bear out his attribution of ancient Roman honour? 
 
 58. What appeal for mercy does the Duke make to Shylock? 
 
 59. By what oath does Shylock show the inflexibility of his 
 purpose? 
 
 60. Is there possibly more than Shylock's personal animosity 
 against Antonio that the Jew gives vent to in his reply to the Duke? 
 
 61. How does Antonio, like Hamlet, desire after his death to 
 be remembered by his friend? 
 
 62. What was the philosophy of Pythagoras? 
 
 63. Before the entrance of Portia, what balancing of the claims 
 of mercy and justice has the Scene presented? 
 
 64. How is climax attained in Portia's speech on the quality of 
 mercy? 
 
 65. Besides further exposition of character, what dramatic ef- 
 fect is attained by Portia's delay in coming to the point of foiling 
 Shylock? 
 
 66. How is the dignity and inflexibility of law preserved against 
 appeal for individual clemency, even with the support of a strong 
 case? 
 
 67. How does the current of thought for a moment drift into 
 the channels cut by the various correlative actions? 
 
 68. Who finally diverts the current? 
 
 69. Was the trial conducted in accordance with Roman or 
 English law? 
 
 70. Indicate the exact point of climax in the play. 
 
 71. Was not the resort by which Antonio was saved really a 
 quibble? Would it be supported in any actual court of law? 
 
 72. Show how its use against Shylock makes an effective exam- 
 ple of dramatic contrast. 
 
 73. What are the final struggles of the Jew before he surrenders 
 all? 
 
 74. In the revival of the old law to meet the case of Shylock, 
 what supporting argument of his own, upon which he chiefly re- 
 lied, is brought into vivid contrast? 
 
 153
 
 Questions 
 
 75. How are horror and aversion changed to pity for the plight 
 of the Jew? 
 
 76. In Shakespeare's time Shylock was regarded a comic per- 
 sonage, and his discomfiture was met with derisive laughter. 
 How has this changed in our day? Was it for the groundlings 
 that Shakespeare added that questionable touch which condemns 
 Shylock to become a Christian? 
 
 yy. Why does the play not end with the disappearance of Shy- 
 lock? Show the effectiveness of the idyllic character of the fifth 
 Act, 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 78. What tribute does Shakespeare pay to the power of music? 
 
 79. How is a good deed compared to the beams of a candle? 
 
 80. What inherent suitability to the spirit of the play has the 
 musical interlude? 
 
 81. How is Antonio connected with the occasion and with the 
 healing of the lovers' quarrel about the rings? How does the 
 spirit of comedy come in to repair the sufferings of Antonio? 
 
 82. What is the main action of this play? In what character 
 does the chief interest of the play reside? 
 
 83. How do you account for the apparent dramatic dispropor- 
 tion? Does the perception of this follow from the evolution of 
 finer aesthetic regard? 
 
 84. Is the complexity of emotion displayed in Shylock equaled 
 by that in Portia? 
 
 85. Does not the highly artificial situation in which Portia is 
 placed relative to the selection of her husband impress one less 
 strongly than the story of Shylock, owing to the fact that the 
 mind refuses to accept the chance of a mischoice? 
 
 86. Give a summary of the traits of Antonio. How did he live 
 in the opinions of his friends? 
 
 87. Does Shakespeare seem to exhibit the caprices of fortune, 
 or demands of poetic justice, in the misfortunes that visit Antonio? 
 
 88. Is Gratiano as witty as Mercutio? 
 
 89. Is there anything in the high pitch of passion to which the 
 story of Shylock is carried inconsistent with the spirit of comedy? 
 
 90. Does this play require a considerable amount of comic 
 relief? Show in what ways this is effected. 
 
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