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 UNIVERSITY 
 
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 dramatic library 
 
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 OF Cornell University 
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 Cornell University Library 
 PR 2825.A2G97 
 
 Shakspere's The merchant of Venice / 
 
 3 1924 013 140 961 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013140961 
 
LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 GEOEGE MCE CAEPENTEEi A.B. 
 
 PBOFESSOK OF BHSrOBIC AKD ENGLISH OOUFOSITION IN COLDHBU COLLEGE 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKSPEEE 
 
 THE MBKOHANT OF VENICE 
 
LOl^rGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 EDITED BT 
 
 GEORGE RICE CARPENTER, A.B. 
 
 FBOFXBBDB OP BKETOBIO AlTD BNG1.ISH COUFOSITION US 
 OOLUUBIA COLLEGZ 
 
 With full Notes, Introductions, Bibliographies, and other 
 Explanatory and Illustrative Matter. Crown 8vo. Cloth. 
 
 1. lEVING'S TALES OF A TRAVELLER. With Introduction 
 
 by Professor Bbakdeb Matthews, of Columbia College, 
 and Notes by the Editor of the Series. 
 
 2. GEORGE ELIOT'S SILAS MARNEE. Edited by Professor 
 
 ROBEKT Hebbick, of the University of Chicago. 
 
 3. SCOTT'S WOODSTOCK. Edited by Professor Buss Pbket, 
 
 of Princeton College. 
 
 4. DEFOE'S HISTORY OF THE PLAGUE IN LONDON. 
 
 Edited by Professor G.R.CARPENTER,of Columbia College. 
 
 5. WEBSTER'S FIRST BUNKER HILL ORATION, together 
 
 with other Addresses relating to the Revolution. Edited 
 by Professor F. N. Scott, of the University of Michigan. 
 
 6. MA CAUL AY'S ESSAY ON MILTON. Edited by J. G. 
 
 Cboswell, Head- Master of the Brearley School, formerly 
 Assistant Professor in Harvard University. 
 
 7. SHAKSPEEE'S A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 
 
 Edited by Professor G. P. Baker, of Harvard University. 
 
 8. MILTON'S L'ALLEGRO, IL PENSEROSO, COMUS, AND 
 
 LYCIDAS. Edited by Professor W. P. Trent, of the 
 University of the South. 
 
 9. SHAKSPEEE'S MERCHANT OF VENICE. Edited by 
 
 Professor Francis B. GtrMMEEE, of Haverf ord College. 
 
 10. COLERIDGE'S THE ANCIENT MARINER. Edited by 
 Herbert Bates, Instructor in English in the University 
 of Nebraska. 
 
 Other volumes are in preparation. 
 
WILLIAM SHAKSPEEE 
 (From the bust on his tomb at Stratford-on-Avon) 
 
Xondmans' £ndUsb Classics 
 
 SHAKSPERE'S 
 
 The Merchant of Venice 
 
 EDITED 
 
 WITH NOTES AND AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 FRANCIS B. GUMMERE, Ph.D. 
 
 FBOFESSOB OF ENGLISB IN HATEBFOBD OOLLEQE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, AND 00. 
 
 LONDON AND BOMBAY 
 1896 
 
 /-5 
 
/1^^37^^ 
 
 COPTBIGHT, 1895 
 BT 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 
 Press of J. J. Little & Co. 
 Astor Place, New York 
 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The " Merchant of Venice " is one of those books which 
 are to be studied, — mastered by dint of hard work, and 
 made to serve the ends of mental discipline, as well as to 
 lure the pupil into a love of good reading. The present 
 editor has tried to help teacher and pupil in their work, 
 and has kept his eye neither on intellectual beer and skit- 
 tles, nor yet on that pretty pretence of labor which takes 
 all (subjective) knowledge for its province and seeks to 
 train the mind by the example of Mr. Brooke of Middle- 
 march. Since the Introduction was written, these words 
 of Professor Dowden have come under the editor's notice, 
 and should be added to the Suggestions for Teachers : 
 " Some persons seem to fear that a close attention to 
 textual difficulties, conjectural emendations, obsolete 
 words, allusions to manners and customs, and suchlike, 
 will quench an interest in the higher meanings of the 
 play. I have not found it so " (On the Teaching of Eng- 
 lish Literature, "New Studies in Literature," p. 423). 
 No editor of Shakspere, however humble his desire, or 
 however ambitious, can close his work without a word of 
 thanks to Dr. Furness for the manifold help afforded by 
 the Variorum edition. 
 
 P. B. G. 
 Havebfoed College, February 13, 1896. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Introduction : page 
 
 I. Shakspere's Life ix 
 
 II. The Period ....... xviii 
 
 III. The Works of Shakspere xxix 
 
 IV. The Merchant of Venice xxxii 
 
 V. Construction of the Play xxxvi 
 
 Suggestions fob, Teachers xlii 
 
 Specimen Examination Paper xlix 
 
 Chronological Table li 
 
 Merchant of Venice 1 
 
 Notes : 
 
 I. Bibliography 86 
 
 II. The Language of the Play 87 
 
 IIL The Metre 91 
 
 IV. Duration of the Action 95 
 
 V. Explanatory and Critical Notes .... 96 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 I. Shakspeeb's Liff. 
 
 We know very little about the life of Shakspere ; ' but 
 this ignorance is certainly no cause for wonder, and hardly 
 a cause for pathos. As regards the latter emotion, we 
 may be content to have the plays, and yet forgo facts 
 which might explain why the playwright left only a 
 second-best bed to his wife ; while the darkness which 
 hangs about the person of Shakspere is no more remark- 
 able than the scantiness of modern knowledge concerning 
 
 ' The best account of the life of Shakspere, along with valuable 
 documents and illustrations, is Outlines of the Life of S., 6th ed., 
 London, 1886, by J. 0. Halliwell-Phillipps. A seventh edition has 
 been issued. See also Karl Elze, William Shakespeare, u Literary 
 Biogra/phy, translated (inadequately) by L. Dora Schmitz, London, 
 1888 (in Bohn's Standard Library). These for facts ; for the higher 
 mood and finer critical treatment, see Dowden, Shakspere, his Mind 
 and Art, and ten Brink's five lectures on Shakspere (Strassburg, 
 
 1893, and now accessible in an Englisli translation). The latter is a 
 posthumous publication, limited in scope, and not elaborated ; but 
 ten Brink's indifferent work is far better than the best work of the 
 hacks. See also Barrett Wendell, William Shakspere, New York, 
 
 1894. For a, jury of peers, in the sense of brother poets, one may 
 add the fragmentary but valuable comments of Coleridge : Lectures 
 and Notes on Shakspere, in Bohn's Standard Library, London, 
 1884, and the recently published Anima Poetae ; Victor Hugo's now 
 inspiring, now irritating William Shakespeare (an English transla- 
 tion by M. B. Anderson, Chicago, 1887) ; the imperious praises of 
 Swinburne's A Study of Shakespeare ; and the scattered comments 
 of (Joethe. Of these, the discussion of Hamlet in Wilhelm Meisier 
 is best known ; but interesting obiter dicta will be found in the col- 
 lection called Spruche in Proaa, edited by von Loeper and published 
 by Hempel. 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 the lives of other dramatists in his day, such as Fletcher, 
 Chapman, and Marlowe. The Elizabethan man of letters, 
 particularly when he worked for the stage, was not a sub- 
 ject for biography. 
 
 William Shakspere ' was born at Stratford, in Warwick- 
 shire," in 1564, perhaps April 23 — after modern reckon- 
 ing. May 3 — perhaps a day or two earlier ; and certainly 
 was baptized April 36. His father, John Shakspere, 
 yeoman by birth, but a man of importance in Stratford, 
 — rising to be alderman and high bailiff, — ultimately 
 
 ' This spelling Is adopted by the New Shakspere Society — a sensi- 
 ble proceeding, even if little stress be laid upon the fact that the poet 
 so wrote his name in his will and in a favorite book. The subject is 
 discussed at great length by Elze, who gives all needed material : 
 W. S., trans., pp. 539 fE. He thinks "Shakspere" represented the 
 provincial or Stratford pronunciation, with short vowel-sounds, and 
 was preferred by the poet as discouraging such a play on words as 
 the London fashion of speech permitted in Greene's " Shake-scene " 
 or in Ben Jonson's famous line. Elze follows the London method, 
 but his logic is not too clear. The name of Shakspere was common 
 enough at that time in England, and can be traced back for over a 
 century. It was. not aristocratic, but " belonged to the lower strata 
 of the nation, to the yeomanry." 
 
 ' Shakspere alludes to Warwickshire " places and persons " in the 
 Merry Wives and in the Taming of the Shrew. Drayton, himself a 
 Warwickshire man, describes in his Polyolbion the " shire which we 
 the Heart of England well may call." It was a place, as ten Brink 
 points out, where old myths, legends, customs, and folklore generally 
 would linger longest, and where the population must have shown a 
 pronounced blending of different elements. First there was the min- 
 gling of West Saxons and Celts (see M. Arnold's assertion, Celtic 
 Literature, vi., that English poetry got its "turn for style, its turn 
 for melancholy, and its turn for natural magic " mainly from a 
 Celtic source — quoting, by the way, as example of the third, a pas- 
 sage [v., i., 1 ff.] from the Merchant of Venice), then of West Saxons 
 and Anglians, with preponderance of the latter. Warwickshire 
 was a stronghold of popular poetry ; but it is of the highest impor- 
 tance to remember that it was not too remote from London, and in 
 dialect "presented no real dissonance to literary English and the tra- 
 ditions that began with Chaucer. 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 obtained the grant of a coat-of-arms. The poet's mother, 
 Mary Arden, was of gentle blood. There is every reason 
 to think that Shakspere was admitted to the free gram- 
 mar school of Stratford upon the usual conditions of 
 proper age — seven years — and ability to read ; nor is one 
 forced to assume that the "small Latin and less Greek" 
 at which Jonson had his fling tells the full tale of the 
 poet's education. We know the mature man to whom 
 the public of his day — printers, registrars, pamphleteers, 
 fellow-playwrights — attributed, without hint of surprise 
 or dissent, a considerable body of plays and poems ; we 
 know the boy, son of a leading citizen of Stratford ; how 
 the boy came to that knowledge of books which is mani- 
 fested in the work of his manhood, we do not. know. On 
 the other hand, we know very well that England, inhis_ 
 time, had a great z eal for leaming^of_all_sorts, and partic- 
 ularly for translations. The re w ere " versions of some if 
 not of all the works of Vergil, Ovid, Horace, Lucan, and 
 Seneca, of Livy, Tacitus, Sallust, Suetonius, Caesar, Cur- 
 tius, and others ; " ' and these translations were eagerly 
 read, not by scholars — for the scholar was more at home 
 in Latin than in his nalive tongue — but by that new 
 class which had sprung up with the invention of print- 
 ing, the " reading public." ^ The same eagerness was 
 shown for translations from the Italian, " sold," says 
 
 ' Elze, p. 373. The student should be told something about Dr. 
 Farmer's Essay on the Learning of Shakespeare, 1767. 
 
 ^ It is usually assumed that Addison, Steele, and their followers 
 began the movement which reckoned with women as a part of this 
 "reading public." But many books — particularly novels — were 
 made for women in the time of Shakspere (see Jusserand, The Eng- 
 lish Novel in the Time of Shakespeare, pp. 38, 89 ff. and particularly 
 104 fl.), although one must admit that, save the popular Euphues, 
 these were by no means the sort of books which Addison and Steele 
 would have chosen for English women of their day. That people of no 
 rank — artisans, even — read such books is evident, as Jusserand points 
 out, from the list which Laneham gives as belonging to Captain Cox. 
 
xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 Ascham, " in every shop in London." Nash sneered at 
 Shakspere for rifling "good sentences " from "English 
 Seneca." Any man who had the genius to write the plays 
 as plays, quite aside from the learned and classical allu- 
 sions to be found in them, may be trusted to have had 
 wit and interest and memory enough to account for this 
 very wealth of allusion. In fine, while wonder is reason- 
 able and even inevitable when we try to see in one and 
 the same man that " Shakspere of heaven," ' as Hallam 
 calls him, who has given us the plays, and the " Shak- 
 spere of earth," about whom we have such scanty and 
 commonplace records, nevertheless this wonder is a quite 
 impossible basis for any argument that Shakspere could 
 not have written the works which go under his name." 
 
 ■ " Shakspere and Ford from heaven were sent. 
 But Ben and Tom from college" 
 
 run some verses falsely attributed to Herrick's friend, Endymion 
 Porter. " Ben " and " Tom " are Jonson and Randolph. 
 
 " Only a word about the great heresy, to which Shakspere's sup- 
 posed ignorance and known humble origin contribute the vital argu- 
 ment. But the argument runs in a circle. One assumes that Shak- 
 spere did not write the plays. This discredited person, then, may 
 well have been an idle, ignorant country boy who went up to London 
 and showed some skill in handling other men's plays. This granted, 
 again, torrents of ridicule are in order ; and it is very "evident" 
 that such a person could never have written plays so full of wisdom 
 in general and of classic and polite allusions in particular. Select 
 some suitable author, then, for these masterpieces : Bacon, say 
 some ; Kaleigh, cry others, was more likely. But the ingenious 
 sceptic has now his own destructive argument to face. How could 
 Bacon or Raleigh have come by the technical skill in these dramas ? 
 The best critics are agreed that Shakspere's plays show at every turn 
 the author's familiarity with the remotest details of stage manage- 
 ment and stage eflect — not ia externals simply, where a clever 
 manager could adapt or change, but in the intricate construction, 
 the very web of the fabric. All this, however, is useless argument. 
 When Ben Jonson praises Shakspere, friend and fellow-playwright, 
 he is a fatal witness against the case of the heretics ; but when he 
 tells Drummond that " Shakspere wanted art," he puts the whole 
 question out of court. 
 
INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 We know nothing whatever of his actual schooling, noth- 
 ing of his access to books or other chances of the sort. 
 That Jiis father, ahout J._51§,, fell Jnto_deb 1 _^and distress.; 
 that the poet married^45ne_Hathawaj, his senior by about 
 eight years, in 1582 (a daughter Susanna was born in 1583, 
 the twins Hamlet [or Hamnet] and Judith in 1585) ; ' 
 and that in the latter year, or perhaps as late as 1587, he 
 went up to London, is really all we know about the youth 
 of Shakspere. Traditions of deer-stealing and drinking- 
 bouts are of little moment, except possibly as they point 
 to the general unsettlement of the poet's life at this time 
 — a hasty and ill-advised marriage, distress^ in his own 
 family and in that of his father, and at last the flight to 
 London. 
 
 Here, at last, begin the trustworthy records, meagre as 
 they areTwhich refer to the poet. Greene — assuming, of 
 course, that " Shake-scene " is Shakspere — rails upon the 
 " upstart " whom we presently find hard at work in the 
 new and not too reputable calling of actor and play- 
 wright." Plays were not regarded as a high or even 
 representative form of literature, and Bodley was fain 
 to exclude them from his library. We are therefore not 
 to underestimate the reputation as poet which Shakspere 
 made by his "Venus and Adonis" of 1593, and by his 
 " Lucrece " of the following year. They were dedicated 
 
 ' Possibly, thinks a wise German, Shakspere may have ventured on 
 his memorable poaching in order ' ' to procure a roast for the chris- 
 tening-ieast 1 " 
 
 ' "The basest trade," says Philomusus in The Return from Par- 
 nassus (Arber, p. 60), referring to Kempe and Burbage, who have 
 grown rich by the theatre. Hardly anything, think the Cambridge 
 scholars, could be worse than acting. Ward, however (English 
 Dramatic Lit., I., 260), is of opinion that the respectability of this 
 calling "depended entirely on the individual." But see the 110th, 
 and particularly the 111th sonnet of Shakspere. See also Wendell, 
 W. S., pp. 40-47. 
 
xiT INTRODUCTION 
 
 to the Earl of Southampton, and had immediate faTor 
 with the public. Still, whatever gift they may have won 
 from a noble patron of letters, it is certain that Shakspere 
 was acting and writing plays for his living. He made 
 money ; and by 1597, after his father had got the coat- 
 of-arms,' could buy one of the best houses in Stratford, 
 besides owning property in London. In 1598 he acted 
 in Ben Jonson's " Every Man in his Humour ; " ' and 
 the same year Francis Meres declared in the "Palladia 
 Tamia," that " as Plautus and Seneca are accounted the 
 best for comedy and tragedy among the Latines : so Shake- 
 speare among the English is the most excellent in both 
 kinds for the stage," going on to name twelve of his plays, 
 among them "The Merchant of Venice," and mention- 
 ing the poems and sonnets.' 
 
 The sonnets make up the only personal or subjective 
 poetry left us by Shakspere ; whatever the theory of their 
 general origin and purpose, they have the intimate note 
 and a direct biographical value. Probably we have no 
 right to say with Dr. Furnivall that Antonio, in this 
 present play, is the Shakspere of the sonnets ; for in that 
 sort of criticism there is no check upon one's inferences, 
 no stay in fact. For example, Antonio seems sad with 
 what the Germans call Welischmerz. When he first 
 appears, he is sad on general principles, not because he 
 is friendless or without means. Now, the sixty-sixth son- 
 
 ' In 1596. Elze (p. 187) notes, however, that in 1597 John Shak- 
 spere is called " Yeoman," and that in 1599 the grant was made a 
 second time. 
 
 * Here as "comedian." As "tragedian" he acted in the same 
 author's Sejcmus in 1603. Tradition says he took the part of Adam 
 in Aa You Like It, and of the Ghost in Hamlet. 
 
 ° Praise for the poet precedes praise for the playwright : " The 
 sweet witty soul of Ovid lives in mellifluous and honey-tongued 
 Shakspere : witness his Yenus and Adonis, his Lucrece, his ' sugred ' 
 sonnets among his private friends." 
 
INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 net, " Tired with all these, for restful death I cry," ' 
 expresses such a Weltschmerz on the part of the poet, 
 and concludes with a certain exquisite reason for living, 
 with which one might compare the merchant's love for 
 Bassanio. But Antonio is a dramatic character. He is 
 sad for an ohvious purpose in the construction of the 
 play ; and we have hardly any right whatever to say that 
 here Shabspere is speaking through Antonio's lips. If, 
 however, we turn to the sonnet itself, and ask, as some 
 critics have asked, whether this impassioned personal cry 
 he not in all likelihood a dramatic performance itself, a 
 feat of expression, a conventional and artificial experi- 
 ment, a little poetic tour de force in imitation of foreign 
 models, then we are doing thrice the amount of violence 
 to the lyric that we were before in danger of .doing to 
 the drama. True, the sonnets were " for his private 
 friends," and here and there, in the first and longer 
 group, we catch a hint of this conventional purpose ; but 
 after a candid study of them one feels that one has been 
 dealing mainly with lyric sincerity, and that in these 
 utterances Shakspere " uulock'd his heart." We cannot 
 strip the sonnets of their biographical value, although 
 this value is to be found in a hint of personality, an 
 approach to sympathy, rather than in any list of qualities 
 mental or spiritual. 
 
 For a dozen years from 1598, Shakspere is known to 
 us as an investor of money, a shrewd buyer of land and 
 tithes, an "enterprising" and fortunate man engaged in 
 ventures of the stage. This is the " Shakspere of earth." 
 The " Shakspere of heaven," on the other hand, won his 
 best laurels during this period, and was busy with his 
 masterpieces. The perfect comedies — " Much Ado," 
 "Twelfth Night," ''As You Like It"— were followed 
 
 ' Any reader of Shakspere will readily recall a similar mood in 
 Ha/mlet, Lear, and in other less striking passages. 
 
xvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 by the great tragedies. Critics are fain to trace a con- 
 nection between the conspiracy of Essex in 1601 ' and 
 this tragic mood of the poet, who is thought to have 
 found a patron in the earl, and would thus, after the 
 ruin of the plot and the swift work of the headsman, 
 naturally turn to kindred subjects for his art. Such 
 would be the splendid failure of Brutus and Cassius ; in 
 any case, the tragedy of "Julius Caesar " followed hard 
 upon the death of Essex. Then came "Hamlet," and 
 that comedy which is forever trembling on the verge of 
 tragedy, " Measure for Measure ; " and then, to borrow 
 Swinburne's fine quotation, the reader approaches those 
 gates of sheer tragedy "with dreadful faces throng'd 
 and fiery arms,"—" Othello," " Lear," and " Macbeth." 
 What the man was doing at this time is of little moment ; 
 we know well enough what the artist was thinking. Of 
 distinct interest, however, for the final period of Shak- 
 spere's authorship, is his life from 1607 to 1611, from the 
 finishing of " Timon " to the finishing of his last play. 
 The dramatic group which critics have assigned to this 
 period bears the stamp of a certain sober optimism, of 
 reconciliations, adjustments, calm. Perhaps these plays 
 belong to a time of ease and of better family relations. 
 Shakspere's daughter Susanna was married in June, 1607, 
 to Dr. John Hall of Stratford, by all accounts a sensible,- 
 energetic physician of good parts and education. He and 
 his wife seem to have lived at New Place, Shakspere's 
 house, presumably with the poet ; and it is not unreason- 
 able to connect the placidity of the so-called romances, 
 "Cymbeline," "Tempest," "Winter's Tale," and the 
 stress which they lay upon recovered domestic peace, with 
 this supposed retirement of Shakspere.' The grandchild 
 
 ' John Shakspere died in this year. 
 
 " Goethe can be compared with Shakspere only in the most general 
 way ; yet both are "many-sided," both are profoundly human, and 
 
INTRODUCTION xvii 
 
 who was born in 1608 may have had her influence on the 
 poet's mood in art, and is not to be relegated to those 
 small-beer chronicles at which lago sneered, and for which 
 commentators have cherished such a pathetic devotion. 
 
 Perhaps, " weary of playing," ' Shakspere had left the 
 stage about 1605. By 1613, perhaps some time before 
 that, he had permanently retired to Stratford, a rich 
 man ; ' so far as we know, he wrote no more plays for the 
 stage. He was buried April 25, 1616, and tradition — 
 not, at worst, very far wrong — puts his death on his sup- 
 posed birthday, the 23d. Victor Hugo has trumpeted to 
 the four winds the simultaneous death of Cervantes ; but 
 this is a mistake. The Spaniard died April 23, new 
 style; that is, ten days before the death of Shakspere. 
 With the granddaughter — by her second marriage, Lady 
 Barnard— died in February, 1670, the last of Shakspere's 
 descendants. 
 
 The portraits of Shakspere have been discussed in books 
 and essays, of which Boaden's work ' takes easy precedence. 
 Critics now agree that the Stratford bust * and the en- 
 
 both, as Heine phrased it, were hubsch objectiv. It is therefore of 
 interest, in our estimate of the relation between environment and 
 production in the case of Shakspere, to note how marked though 
 intricate was the effect made upon Goethe's poetry by the events and 
 circumstances of his life. 
 
 ■ See the passage from Ratsey's Ohost, supposed to refer to Shak- 
 spere. Halliwell-Phillipps prints the chapter in question. 
 
 ' " They purchased lands, and now Esquiers are made," 
 
 says Studioso of the players. {Return from Parnassus, Arber, p. 63.) 
 ' An Inquiry, etc., London, 1824. The American student should 
 
 consult the handsome book by J. Parker Norris, The Portraits of 
 
 Shakespeare, Phila., 1885. For a fair and impartial discussion of 
 
 the subject, see Elze, W. S., p. 548 fl. 
 * Originally colored, "eyes a light hazel, the hair and beard auburn ; 
 
 the doublet or coat was scarlet, and partially covered by a loose black 
 
 gown or tabard, and without sleeves. This, it has been supposed, was 
 
 the dress worn by the King's Players." (Blze.) 
 
xviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 graved portrait prefixed to the first folio edition (1623) 
 of the poet's works— with certificate to the likeness in 
 Ben Jonson's " Lines to the Reader "—are the only por- 
 traits of Shakspere which admit no doubt of genuineness. 
 Neither of these is satisfactory. 
 
 II. The Period. 
 
 The Europe, the England, the London, the theatre, the 
 playwrights and poets of Shakspere's time, can be but 
 briefly noticed. In the first place, events and sentiment 
 did not stand still for the twenty-five years during which 
 the dramatist fought his way from obscurity to permanent 
 fame. When he settled to his work, a thrill of patriotic 
 enthusiasm was running through England.' Commer- 
 cially, he took advantage of this when he made his series 
 of chronicle-plays. Artistically, the mood of the time 
 helped him to turn out such figures as his Hotspur, his 
 Henry V., and above all his bluff and darling Faulcon- 
 bridge. Humanly, it lifted him to the enthusiasm of 
 that praise of England itself which he puts into the mouth 
 of the dying John of Gaunt." England in 1613, however, 
 and Shakspere at forty-eight — here is another state of 
 things. Perspective is needed, moreover, when one 
 speaks of the great intellects of the time. Student and 
 even teacher must be warned against that thaumaturgic 
 fashion in which the popular lecturer loves to serve up a 
 century, an epoch, on his little dish of eloquence — that 
 facile trick of cumulative naming. "The England of 
 Sidney, Burleigh, Daniel, Hooker, Herbert, Bacon, Spen- 
 ser, Euleigh," and so on ; but the lecturer does not stop 
 
 ' Patriotism had been emphasized strongly enough in the " fashion- 
 able " and popular Euphuea. Lyly was followed in this respect by 
 Greene. See Jusserand, Eng. Nov., p. 168 fE. 
 
 ^ Rich. //., XL, i.,40 ff. 
 
INTRODUCTION xix 
 
 to tell us what imports the nomination of these gentlemen. 
 Catch-words ahout imaginative vigor, vitality, interest 
 and intensity of life, are well as far as they go," but they 
 are always inadequate and often misleading. Still, there 
 are a few general facts which one must bear in mind if 
 only as a preparation Tor any honest study of the age. 
 
 The legend and the romance were respectively sacred 
 and profane answers to that craving for supernatural 
 interference which fettered the medieval reader. The 
 revival of learning ; the secularization of arts and sciences ; 
 the growth of a sense of proportion, ending at last in 
 what we now call humor;" the new point of view which 
 made man, and not the Church, " servant and interpreter 
 of nature ; " the beginning knowledge of a new heaven and 
 a new earth — all these things, to our view, wrought a sort 
 of cataclysm in letters. Eomances, one is told, got tlieir 
 finishing stroke from the Spanish knight. If, however, 
 the medieval romance came to an end, romantic literature 
 went on in triumph. It is well to remember that while 
 plays seem to us the most important outcome of the 
 literary life under Elizabeth, they were to a large extent 
 disreputable in the making and in the acting — one has 
 but to think of the elements that made up an audience 
 at a London theatre — and in the printing were not half as 
 popular as those extravagant tales, pamphlets, and poems 
 which the modern reader refuses at any price. The 
 romantic novel " paid " better under Elizabeth, so far as 
 publisher and readers were concerned, than even the most 
 successful play. Moreover, in a humbler sphere, the old 
 
 ' It would take a wide word to cover the ' ' romantic ' ' art in Shak- 
 spere's comedies and the "realistic" art in Ben Jonson's Barthol- 
 omew Fair. 
 
 ' Even Chaucer's supreme sense of humor, as ten Brink seems to 
 hint, was unable to resist the pressure of medieval tradition, of the 
 speU of legend. Compare his attitude in Troi/lus with the irony, the 
 individual attitude, of Shakspere in the kindred play. 
 
XX INTRODUCTION 
 
 romances lived again in chap-books, and in ballads which, 
 degenerating into hopeless broadside vulgarity, were 
 hawked about the streets, or else, blending with oral tradi- 
 tions and caught up by the still vital forces of communal 
 poetry, went to enrich our best pop ular verse. ' Meanwhile^ 
 f realism was breaking its way into literature by means of the 
 \ picaresque novel, the sketches of contemporary life, the 
 confessions, flytings, what not, of that seething Bohemian 
 activity. The romantic, however, far outweighed the real-/ 
 istic. The adventurous, the conventional, the absurd, 
 which here and there surprise us in Shakspere, vanish 
 utterly from consideration when one thinks of the literary 
 influences which surrounded him. Precisely as a reading 
 of other plays sends us back to his with a positive admira- 
 tion for his purity of tone, so an excursion among the 
 prose romances, the novels, the narrative poetry of that 
 time, fills us with wonder at the sanity and poise of his art. 
 Better, this sanity, this poise, are actual qualities, felt, and 
 not merely repeated from books. Let the student, there- 
 fore, read, or try to read, a representative Elizabethan novel, 
 — say the " Arcadia," — and then come back to Shakspere. 
 Everybody knows that the lyrics scattered through 
 Shakspere's plays are only a degree or so better than 
 much of the kindred verse that one finds in any good 
 Elizabethan anthology. It is evident that the lyric will 
 thrive in a country noted for its love of music, of song 
 and dance ; and this was the case with Shakspere's 
 England." All men loved good music, — it is needless to 
 
 ' Some of the best English ballads date from this time. Robin 
 Hood still reigned in Warwickshire. Meanwhile, the artificial ballad, 
 in its broadside vulgarity, roused the just ire of Elizabethan poets, 
 and went far to bring disgrace on good and bad alike. 
 
 5 For the lustier side of the matter, for a right glance at " merry 
 England," see W. Kemp's Nine, Days' Wonder, PerformedinaDance 
 from London to Norwich (1600), reprinted by Arber in his English 
 Garner, VIL, 15 fE. 
 
INTRODUCTION xxi 
 
 quote Lorenzo's opinion in the present play, — and song 
 or melody must have been a far more spontaneous ex- 
 pression of feeling than now. "When music is invoked to 
 help the choice of Bassanio, it is no foreign, half-imper- 
 tinent " feature," but the natural course of things for 
 the audience that saw in music an element of life almost 
 as indispensable as Sir Andrew's " eating and drinking." ' 
 What music did for the ear was done for the eye by an 
 exaggerated richness of array, a love of color and deco- 
 ration. The detailed and gorgeous descriptions which 
 abound in Elizabethan drama are commonly laid to the 
 charge of a corresponding poverty in stage settings, in 
 scenery ; but the great love for actual splendor in apparel, 
 * buildings, and furnishings would naturally beget a love 
 '\^ aureate phrases and gorgeousness of style. 
 
 Merry beyond question, full of song and music, one 
 may picture this England ; but the lustiness and splen- 
 dor of its life must not beguile one into visions of social 
 and civic perfection. What with Macaulay's famous 
 chapter on England in 1685, what with the plays of 
 Congreve and Farquhar, what with our knowledge of 
 English life in the following decades, — Mohocks for 
 the town, and Squire Western for the belated roughness 
 of the country, as if the spirit of Lord Rochester and 
 Wycherley took a generation or so to reach rural dis- 
 tricts, — what with these and a hundred minor details, we 
 have come to accept the Eestoration as the typically coarse 
 and boisterous age in English life and letters. With more 
 or less vagueness we regard it as a time which had so 
 lapsed from Puritan and even Elizabethan decencies, 
 from the spirit of Sidney no less than from that of 
 Milton, a time so utterly degenerate, that good men like 
 
 'See Chappell, Popular Music of the Olden Time (I., 98), -ffho 
 places England of that day above Italy and France in the article of 
 
xxii INTRODUCTION 
 
 Addison were fain to call a halt, to wage war on swear- 
 ing, drunkenness, and coarseness, to restore the old order, 
 to champion the amenities of life. On the contrary, one 
 may be sure that Addison and Steele were shrewd literary 
 tradesmen, who turned out wares to suit the time, and 
 were eager to meet halfway a popular desire for morality, 
 coffee, and intelligent conversation.' We have no Pepys 
 to tell us about the noble rowdies who made life interest- 
 ing in the streets of Elizabethan London ; but we may be 
 sure that English society then was distinctly more bois- 
 terous, more coarse, in some ways even more profane and 
 flippant, than the society of the Restoration.' Against 
 
 ' See J. R. Green's introduction to his Selected Essays of Addison. 
 
 ' The writings of Tom Nash and of Dekker (as his Ouls Home- 
 hoohe) give details enough, but these books are not accessible to the 
 ordinary reader. Dekker's satire, The Seven Deadly Sinnes of Lon- 
 don (1606) is printed in Arber's English Scholar's lAhrary (No. 7) ; 
 but all ages offer material for this sort of work. Stubbes has the 
 same moral and satiric purpose in his Anaiomy of Abuses, but Harri- 
 son's Description of England (ed. Furnivall, 1877, for the New Shak- 
 spere Society) is more to the point. The best material is found in 
 incidental descriptions and allusions by writers like Nash or Lodge, 
 or else in modern books like Mr. Hubert Hall's Society in the Eliza- 
 hethan Age (3d ed., London, 1888) based upon actual records. This 
 is an excellent book. Nothing can give the student a better idea 
 of the difEerence between the periods discussed above, than the story 
 of William Darrell and his struggle for simplest legal rights (Hall, 
 p. 3 fE.), compared with the story — such as it is — of a country gentle- 
 man like Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley. Mere gossip about the 
 table, the clothes, the manners of sixteenth-century people can be 
 gathered in profusion from Boorde's Dyetary (ed. Furnivall, B. E. 
 T. Soc, extra series. No. 10, 1870) and subsequent works (see ref- 
 erences in Traill's Social England, III., 412) ; but the teacher will 
 do well not to heap this fare too plentifully for young students. A 
 teacher's casual statement that "flfty-six kinds of wine were found 
 on the table at a certain Elizabethan banquet " may be guaranteed to 
 return in gorgeous precision on every paper in an examination. 
 That "tea and coffee came to England about 1660" is a fact which 
 sticks in a pupil's memory when the Rape of the Loch has long 
 faded into mist ; and, after all, one is teaching literature. It is 
 
INTRODUCTION xxiii 
 
 such a background, Portia and the ''good" people of 
 Shakspere's plays stand out in surprising relief. At a 
 time when Arcadian novelists in England were drawing 
 impossible men and women, as prodigious in virtue as 
 miraculous in beauty ; and Brantdme, across the channel, 
 himself by no means a vicious man, had been describing 
 actual people of fashion in a walk that was distinctly 
 tortuous, and a conversation not to be remembered, the 
 London actor was putting into his plays characters as 
 good as any in romance and as real as any in Brantdme. 
 That is the everlasting wonder. 
 
 Shakspere wrote his plays for the stage, and the theatre ' 
 of his time must be taken into account. iuTTSTOTEei^"' 
 is fib ^mention of theatres in London ; sixty years later 
 one counted there "nineteen playhouses." The pit open 
 to the air, the boxes, the gallants seated directly on the 
 stage, the ludicrously insufficient settings and scenery, 
 the pickpocket caught in his trade and tied during the 
 performance to a stake, the quarrels, the prologue, the 
 clown, the prayer for the queen offered when a play was 
 over, the boys who took women's parts, — these and other 
 details are familiar enough. It is a difficult question, 
 however, how far the audience was reputable, and to what 
 manner of folk Shakspere looked for patronage aud appre- 
 ciation. Some critics assert that a mere rabble which 
 filled the pit, fast young noblemen who sat on the stage, 
 and a few men of letters admitted on free tickets, made 
 up the jury which had to decide upon the merits of a 
 play. Elze, who is perhaps influenced by modern Ger- 
 
 important, however, to reckon with Italian influences on Elizabethan 
 life. Ascham's protests are well known, and may be consulted in 
 Arber's edition of The Scholemaster ; while Vernon Lee, in her 
 Euphorion, has written pleasantly of the Italian influence upon the 
 drama of that time. 
 
 ' Elze's chapter (TV. S., pp. 197 fif.) gives all needed material, along 
 with further references. 
 
xxiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 man customs, and thinks of a place whither men take 
 their families, and wives take their knitting, is ardent for 
 an Elizabethan audience of decorum and discretion. On 
 the whole, it is probable that the stage, though not dis- 
 reputable in our extreme sense of the word, fell far short 
 of respectability. Perhaps the race-track of our time, 
 especially in America, would offer some resemblance in 
 point of repute. Good people agreed that the theatre 
 was demoralizing, often vicious, and went to it, from 
 time to time, to be sure that their views were sound. 
 Moreover, here was the liveliest political discussion, here 
 the latest catchword of the town, here a new song, a 
 dance, here, above all, an outlet for the active intellectual 
 vigor of the day. The neighborhood, in the case of cer- 
 tain prominent theatres, was absolutely low, a Botany 
 Bay of morals ; but tastes were not so nice as now. No- 
 hlemen patronized the stage, often from purely literary 
 motives ; and, of course, a calling which was countenanced 
 by royalty could not be classed with mere rascality and 
 vagabondage. On the other hand, the city, with its 
 strongly Puritan element, opposed theatres to the utter- 
 most.' The play itself began about one o'clock ; and by 
 the time of James, spectators had taken to smoking to- 
 bacco during the performance. It is not certain that the 
 better class of women consistently shunned the theatre, but 
 the bulk of the audience was undoubtedly made up of men. 
 Elizabethan activity in letters and in learning must be 
 mentioned, if only in the briefest way.' The poets were 
 all blessing Sir Philip Sidney, and there was brave dis- 
 
 ' Puritans finally succeeded in closing the theatres, and kept them 
 closed till the Restoration. This would indicate, by a broad general- 
 ization, that the highest and the lowest classes were chief patrons 
 of the Elizabethan stage. The population of London in 1580 was 
 about 120,000. (Traill, Social Englamd, III.„375.) 
 
 ' Byland's Chronological Outlines of English Literature should be 
 in the hands of every teacher of English. 
 
INTRODUCTION XXV 
 
 cnssion about rhytlim and metre. Translation was ex- 
 traordinarily active, and was by no means confined to the 
 classical tongues. Tasso's " Jerusalem Delivered " ap- 
 peared in Italy in 1581 ; in 1594 Carew's English version 
 came out, followed in 1600 by the version of Fairfax.' 
 Travels, voyages, and chronicles were eagerly read. Nov- 
 els in Italian and French furnished many plots of the 
 drama. Pamphleteering, not yet cut and thrust even, 
 but mainly fist and cudgel, went on merrily, and often 
 took the form of dialogue, as in a Puritan tract against 
 the bishops," whence a side-light on Shylock's trade may 
 be had, along with other hints. Satire had fairly begun 
 with Gascoigne's " Steel Glass," to be followed by the 
 sharper work of Marston and of Hall. Escape from the 
 infelicities of life, meanwhile, was at hand as never before^ 
 or since in our letters; for " The Faerie Queene " began 
 to appear in 1590, the Arcadian and other romances 
 abounded,' and lyrics flourished everywhere. Prose, one 
 is told, begins with Dryden ; but Bacon's "Essays" and 
 Hooker's " Ecclesiastical Polity " remind one of the van- 
 ity of dogmatizing, while there is plenty of vigorous Eng- 
 lish in the prose of Shakspere himself. Antiquarian 
 research was represented by Camden and Selden, and 
 there was a great stir in philology.* Scholars, of course, 
 
 ' Jusserand, The English Novel (p. 74 ff.), gives interesting details 
 of this activity. 
 
 » On the State of the Church, by John Udall, 1588, ed. Arber, 
 Engl. Schol. Lib., No. 5. 
 
 ' On this subject see Jusserand's excellent work on the English 
 Novel in the Time of Shakespeare, already cited. The influence of 
 Lyly's Euphues will be mentioned in the notes to the present play. 
 
 • The student of English should be interested in the great zeal shown 
 under Elizabeth for the study of our ancient tongue. Special type 
 was made for the printing of books in Anglo-Saxon. While this inter- 
 est in Anglo-Saxon was mainly of legal, antiquarian, and theological 
 origin, the study of literature had its distinct profit. See Walker, 
 Orundrias zur Oeschichte der angels&ehaiachen Litteratur, p. 3 £E. 
 
xxvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 were active for the classics of all tongues and times ; 
 while the man of fashion made a point of knowing, or 
 seeming to know, modern letters. " Sirrah Boy," says 
 Amoretto to his page," "remember me when I come in 
 Paul's Churchyard to buy a ' Ronsard ' and ' Dubartas ' 
 in French, and 'Aretine' in Italian, and our hardest 
 writers in Spanish ; they will sharpen my wits gallantly." 
 Of all these elements, however, which made up the 
 intellectual environment of Shakspere, we must reckon as 
 most important a certain balance between the new ration- 
 alism, the new science, — as laid down in Bacon's incidental 
 remark about weather superstitions " no less certainly than 
 in his famous scheme, — the new impulse for change and 
 reform in industry, commerce, and statecraft, on one hand, 
 and, on the other hand, old traditions, old superstitions, 
 fragments of the medieval spell, which still spoke in more 
 or less imperative tones to the Elizabethan, and got for 
 answer the So have I heard, and do in part believe it of a 
 lapsing but lingering faith. No age of our literature 
 ever looked both before and after so eagerly and so far. 
 Finally, personal influence was more potent than the 
 printer's ink of our day. There were great men then in 
 England, we all know, — lawyers like Coke, statesmen like 
 Burleigh, courtiers like Raleigh ; but we are apt to forget 
 how much they came into contact with the mass of citi- 
 zens," how much the oral and eye-to-eye influence of inter- 
 course on the street, in the tavern, at Paul's, and wherever 
 else, prevailed over the indirect means of intercourse 
 familiar to us. Hence much of the directness and vitality 
 of the Elizabethan drama, which, after all possible reserva- 
 
 ^ Return from Parnassus, III., iii. 
 
 ' Of Vicissitude of Things, Essays, ed. W. A. Wright, p. 233 : 
 " There is a toy which I have heard, and I would not have it given 
 over, but waited upon a little." 
 
 ' Traill, Social England, III., 378-383. 
 
IXTRODUCTION xxvii 
 
 tions about romantic and artificial conditions^ is a faithful 
 copy of the life from which it sprang. 
 
 Coining to the narrowest circle of all, one finds it im- 
 possible to give in brief compass any adequate description 
 of this drama itself and of the men who made it. The 
 rapid progress from miracle-plays and moralities to clumsy 
 tragedies like " Gorboduc/' and clever but academic come- 
 dies like " Ealph Eoister Doister/' is nothing compared 
 with the leap from these to the plays of Marlowe and 
 of Shakspere. Precisely here, however, one must guard 
 against the tendency, inevitable in discussions of literary 
 epochs, to lose, or at least to neglect, perspective. Shak- 
 spere, as Professor Wendell reminds us, began his work as 
 a playwright with Greene, Peele, Marlowe, and Lyly as 
 his only rivals, and with stage surroundings which were 
 distinctly Bohemian if not absolutely disreputable. The 
 concluding decade of his career must have found the 
 stage in better repute — let one consider the character as 
 well as the ability of George Chapman, the energy of Ben 
 Jonson — and the playwright on a higher social plane. 
 The opening of the fifth act of " The Eeturn from Par- 
 nassus " — acted in 1603 — represents the poor Cambridge 
 scholars driven to fiddle for a living, while they rail at 
 upstart actors — 
 
 " Those glorious vagabonds 
 That carried erst their fardels ' on their backs " — 
 
 and may now ride on fine horses, wear satin, keep their 
 pages, buy lands, and are made "esquires." Now, this 
 swift rise of the player from beggary to the state of a 
 country gentleman is not only typical of the fortunes of 
 the stage ; it corresponds to a startling development of 
 English literature in general. Just as the Shakspere 
 of the tragedies differs from the Shakspere of "The 
 
 ' Burdens. 
 
xxviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 Comedy of Errors " or " The Two Gentlemen of Verona/' 
 so the stage of Jonson, Fletcher, Chapman, Dekker, 
 Webster, differed from the stage of Peele and Greene, so 
 the distinctly English quality of tlie literature which 
 now came to life differed from the half-tentative work of 
 1588. Kemembering this need of perspective, then, it 
 becomes doubly interesting to ascertain the date of our 
 play. "We shall find " The Merchant of Venice," as it lies 
 before us, to belong to the early middle period of Shak- 
 spere's activity. In its romantic tone, its easy diction, its 
 brightness, there is every mark of the poet's early and 
 cheerful vigor. In the balance, the occasional earnest- 
 ness, the glimpse of tragic possibilities, the inevitable 
 character of phrase and word, we have Shakspere the 
 artist and rounded man. No more satisfactory play can 
 be chosen for the beginner, and there is no better appre- 
 ciation of its individual excellence than the remarks 
 made by Swinburne ' on the group to which our drama 
 belongs. " It is in the middle period of his work that the 
 language of Shakespeare is most limpid in its fulness, the 
 style most pure, the thought most transparent through 
 the close and luminous raiment of perfect expression. 
 The conceits and crudities of the first stage are outgrown 
 and cast aside ; the harshness and obscurity which at 
 times may strike us as among the notes of his third 
 manner have as yet no place in the flawless work of this 
 second stage. That which has to be said is not yet too 
 great for perfection of utterance ; passion has not yet 
 grappled with thought in so close and fierce an embrace 
 as to strain and rend the garment of words, though 
 stronger and subtler than ever was woven of human 
 speech." 
 
 ' A Study of Shakespeare, p. 66 ff. 
 
INTRODUCTION xxiz 
 
 III. The Works of Shakspeke. 
 
 Besides his poems, the "Venus and Adonis," the 
 " Lucrece," and the " Sonnets," ' there are thirty-seven 
 plays recognized by modern critics as the work of Shak- 
 spere. Of these, all appeared in the folio of 1623, except 
 " Pericles," which appeared as quarto in 1609, and was 
 taken into the third folio (1G64). "The Two Noble 
 Kinsmen" was published in 1684 as the joint work of 
 Fletcher and Shakspere." This first folio, edited by 
 Shakspere's "fellows," Heming and Condell, seven years 
 after the death of the poet, is authority for eighteen plays 
 not previously published ; of the other plays," editions in 
 quarto had appeared ; and eight of these — among them 
 two editions of "The Merchant of Venice" — were pub- 
 lished in the year 1600.* The folio makes no attempt at 
 chronological order, beginning with one of the latest 
 plays.' The quartos, of course, give the dates of publica- 
 
 ' Venus and Adonis, 1593 ; Lucrece, 1594 ; Sonnets, 1609. 
 
 ' See a paper in the first volume of the Transactions of the New 
 Shalcspere Society, on Shakspere's share in this play. 
 
 'Rich. II., Rich. III., Romeo and Juliet, Love's Labor's Lost, 
 First and Second Henry IV. , Much Ado, Midsummer Night's Dream, 
 Merchant of Venice, Henry V., Titus Andronicus, Merry Wives, 
 Hamlet, Lear, Troilus and Cressida, Pericles. Othello was pub- 
 lished in quarto in 1622, the year before the first folio appeared. 
 
 * Quarto was, of course, the earlier form for plays ; but with the 
 folio edition of Ben Jonson's works, in 1616, "the drama was ad- 
 mitted into the actual sphere of literature," for folio ' ' had previously 
 been the sacred and privileged form for the work of scholars." See 
 Blze, W. S., p. 284, who gives all necessary details and references 
 - for this subject of the quartos and folios. As the republished plays 
 in the folio are demonstrably printed when possible from a quarto, it 
 is clear that we have no one authoritative text of Shakspere's works. 
 
 ^ A second folio appeared in 1033, a third in 1664 with certain 
 additional plays, all of which (except Pericles, already mentioned) 
 are probably not connected with Shakspere. A fourth folio appeared 
 in 1685. 
 
XXX 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 tion, and hence some help for determining the time of 
 composition ; but exactness is out of the question. Along 
 with scanty direct evidence,' the current lists are made 
 up from inferences based upon reference to some event 
 or person, upon style and sentiment, upon metrical 
 considerations, and upon facts known or assumed in the 
 life of the poet. It seems to be beyond question that 
 Shakspere gave himself more license, as time went on, 
 with regard to the structure of his verse. Eimed verses 
 are less frequent ; the sense refuses to stop with the end 
 of a verse, but surges into the following verse ; mere 
 smoothness is more and more disdained ; and in every 
 way the poet approaches the freedom of prose. ^ Mr. 
 Spedding has called attention to this metrical difference 
 between two passages written one about 1597, or earlier, 
 and the other about 1607, both describing " the face of a 
 beautiful woman just dead." ' In " Eomeo and Juliet " 
 one reads : 
 
 " Her blood is settled and her joints are stiff. 
 Life and those lips have long been separated. 
 Death lies on her like an untimely frost 
 Upon the fairest flower of all the field." 
 
 In " Antony and Cleopatra : " 
 
 "If they had swallowed poison, 'twould appear 
 By external swelling : but she looks like sleep, 
 As she would catch another Antony 
 In her strong toil of grace. " 
 
 There seems to be no doubt that Shakspere made this 
 progress in handling blank verse ; but when one attempts 
 to construct a definite chronological list of the plays on 
 the basis of this known progress, together with certain 
 other metrical changes from the early style to the late, 
 
 ' Such is the list made by Meres in 1598. 
 
 ' Details will be given in the special remarks on metre. 
 
 = Trans. New Shaks. Soc, I., 30. 
 
INTRODUCTION xxxi 
 
 one meets with grave difficulties. It is preposterous to 
 assume that there were no reactions, no recurrence to 
 an earlier manner, no anticipations. Still, if one mukes 
 ample allowance for these things, and if one controls 
 one's inference by the use of all possible checks, all 
 existing material of other kinds, one mnst be allowed to 
 put a definite value on the so-called metrical tests. On 
 the whole, the table so carefully prepared by Professor 
 Dowden may be looked upon as the nearest approach to 
 a chronological list of the plays which is possible in the 
 present state of information. In his well-known book,' 
 he has arranged the plays in a series of groups. First 
 come the plays' which Shakspere is thought to have 
 revised for the stage, merely toucliing them here and there 
 —"Titus Andronicus" and "I. Henry VI." Thence, 
 about 1590, the playwright began actual composition 
 with his comedies, "Love's Labor's Lost," " Comedy of 
 Errors," " Two Gentlemen of Verona," " Midsummer 
 Night's Dream," working meanwhile (with Marlowe ?) 
 on " II. and III. Henry VI." and " Richard III." His 
 first tragedy, "Romeo and Juliet," may have been writ- 
 ten as early as 1591, and revised thoroughly before its 
 appearance in quarto in 1597 ; in any case, as we have 
 it, it belongs, with the " Midsummer Night's Dream," 
 to a distinctly surer and stronger stage of Shakspere's 
 art than the other plays Just named. This second period 
 claims "Richard II." and "King John," written proba- 
 bly when Shakspere was thirty years old ; " The Merchant 
 of Venice," which may be assigned without great chance 
 of error to 1596 ; the two parts of " Henry IV." and 
 "Henry V.," "The Taming of the Shrew," and "The 
 
 ' Shakspere, Ms Mind and Art. See also his Shakspere Primer, 
 p. 56 ffl. 
 
 ' There is no ground for supposing that any important plays by 
 Shakspere have been lost. 
 
xxxii INTRODUCTION 
 
 Merry Wives." The end of the cenfcuiy is commonly 
 accepted as marking the middle point of Shakspere's 
 work as a playwright, and the so-called second period also 
 finds its end here with three exquisite comedies — " Much 
 Ado," ''As You Like It," "Twelfth Night." If, now, 
 we accept this general scheme as presented by Professor 
 Dowden — and, while it is by no means certain, it is well 
 removed from guess-work — it is reasonable to suppose 
 that the man and the artist alike began to find absorbing 
 interest in the tragic side of things. Comedies that belie 
 the name now appear — "All's Well," "Measure for 
 Measure," " Troilus and Cressida." Tragedies begin 
 with " Julius OsBsar " and " Hamlet," and then culminate 
 in " Othello," " Lear," and " Macbeth." It is safe to 
 set " Lear " about 1605, and the other two join the group 
 by a sort of irresistible attraction. " Antony and Cleo- 
 patra," " Coriolanus," and "Timon" close this third 
 period. The fourth period claims the romances, as they 
 are inadequately called, plays of reconciliation and adjust- 
 ment, of serenity. First comes the charming little play 
 of " Marina," which critics have picked out of the repul- 
 sive framework of " Pericles ; " then " Cymbeline," 
 " The Tempest," and " The Winter's Tale " complete this 
 final group. In " Henry VIII.," printed in Shakspere's 
 works, and in " The Two Noble Kinsmen," the play- 
 wright is thought to have worked with John Fletcher, clos- 
 ing his dramatic career as he began it, in a partnership. 
 
 IV. The Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Two quarto editions of this play were published in 
 1600, — what is known as the first quarto by J. Roberts, 
 and the second quarto by Thomas Heyes.' In the Regis- 
 
 ' The Variorum Edition of Dr. Pnrness, which should be consulted 
 on all questions of detail, appeared in 1888. For material since that 
 date, see Bibliography. 
 
INTRODUCTION xxxiii 
 
 ter of the Stationers' Company the first quarto was en- 
 tered in 1598, with proviso that it should not be printed 
 " without license first had from the . . . Lord Cham- 
 berlain ;" the second quarto was entered for Heyes "by 
 consent of Master Roberts." The play was reprinted as 
 quarto in 1637 and in 1652.' The folio of 1633, like the 
 late quartos just mentioned, simply reprints the quarto 
 of Heyes. As a text, the first quarto is preferred by Dr. 
 Purness, by the late Professor Delius — one of the best 
 German editors — and by the editors of the Cambridge 
 Shakspere." As to the date of composition, conjecture 
 ranges between 1594 and 1598. If, with Dr. Purnivall, 
 we make it " about 1596," we shall not go far astray." 
 As to the sources, while the caskets are found in the 
 "Gesta Romanorum," not to speak of remoter origins ; 
 and while the story of the bond, likewise flotsam and jet- 
 sam of that old current from the East, and likewise ap- 
 pearing in the " Gesta Romanorum," can be traced to a 
 literature of which Shakspere never heard,' it is probable 
 enough that the poet, as in so many other cases, found 
 
 ■ An interesting coincidence is noted by Mr. J. W. Hales in regard 
 to this date. Cromwell, Blake, and Monk were then considering the 
 petition of the Jews — long before expelled— for leave to return to 
 England. See Furness, Var., p. 273. 
 
 '' By the courtesy of the publishers, Messrs. Macmillan & Co., the 
 Cambridge text has been used for the present edition. The objection 
 urged by Professor Schrfier (Sliaks. Jahrhuch, XXX. , 354 ff.) against 
 the Cambridge edition — that it aims to make a good text for mod- 
 •ern readers, not a text corrected by diligent study of Elizabethan 
 English to the nearest possible resemblance to Shakspere's original 
 manuscript — has no weight in the present instance. 
 
 ' Conrad, in his Metrische Untersuchungen, etc., Jahrhuch, XXXI., 
 326, thinks that 1595 is indicated by the structure of the verse in 
 this play. 
 
 • The earliest mention of this bargain of flesh for gold is in the 
 Cursor Mundi, not later than the beginning of the fourteenth cen- 
 tury, and a storehouse of legends. See Variorum, p. 313. 
 
xxxiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 his material to his hand in some older play.' This sup- 
 
 ' The story is told, however, in liberal detail by an Italian ol the 
 fourteenth century, in a narrative inserted in his book, 11 Pecorone, 
 which may well have been translated into English in the time of 
 Shakspere, and may have been known in this way to him, although 
 no such translation is on record. This tale is printed in the original, 
 with an English translation at the foot of the page, in Collier's Shake- 
 speare's Library, edited anew by Hazlitt, London, 1875, Part I., 
 Vol. I., p. 319 fE. Here too will be found the passage from Sil- 
 vayn's Orator, referred to below, the story from the ffesta Romano- 
 rum, and the two ballads, Gemutus and The Northern Lord. These 
 all cover some sixty pages. In the Variorum, Dr. Purness has given 
 them in somewhat briefer form, along with other material. To 
 trace all the variations of the casket story and the story of the pound 
 of flesh is surely idle. " Their connection with Shakespeare's Shy- 
 look and Antonio," says Dr. Eurness, "is the thinnest gossamer." 
 The tale in II Pecorone is really the most interesting of these alleged 
 " sources," and a brief abstract may be given here. Giannetto, left 
 penniless, goes to his godfather Ansaldo, a rich merchant of Venice, 
 who adopts him as his son. Giannetto desires to see the world, and 
 his godfather fits out a vessel for him, richly laden with goods. 
 With two companions, likewise in charge of ships with valuable 
 merchandise, Giannetto sets sail, and soon they come to a port where, 
 his friends tell him, dwells a widow " who has ruined many men." 
 If a man can win her love, he marries her and is lord of all that land ;' 
 if he fails, he forfeits his ship and goods. Giannetto essays, his ves- 
 sels sailing on ; but his wine is drugged, and he fails, losing all he 
 brought. Arrived at Venice, he is ashamed to see Ansaldo, but 
 finally tells him he was wrecked, and barely escaped with his life. 
 Then Giannetto longs to make another voyage. Ansaldo gives him 
 a ship, as before, freighting it with nearly all he is worth in the world. 
 Again the comrades set sail. Giannetto comes by night to The 
 Port of the Lady of Belmonte, and slips away from the others. The 
 lady notices his ship in the morning, asks her maid about it, and re- 
 ceives an answer (like Nerissa's) favorable to the adventurer. The 
 same things happen as on the first visit ; again Giannetto receives 
 a horse and some money, and fares back to Venice. Ansaldo has 
 to sell estates to satisfy his creditors. Again the comrades return, 
 and again they propose another voyage which shall right all. An- 
 saldo sells all he has, and borrows ten thousand ducats of a Jew, 
 the penalty of non-payment by the next June to be a pound of his 
 flesh, cut from any part of his body. Ansaldo says that if misfortune 
 overtakes him, he wishes to see Giannetto before the end. This time 
 
INTRODUCTION xxxv 
 
 position, plausible enough in itself, is made likely by a 
 reference — first pointed out by Warton,'— in Gosson's 
 " Schoole of Abuse," a predecessor of Jeremy Collier's 
 fiercer onslaught, to " The Jew . . . showne at the 
 Bull, . . . representing the greedinesse of worldly 
 ehusers" — that is, probably, the episode of the caskets — 
 " and bloody mindes of usurers " — apt enough for a de- 
 scription of the story of Shylock and Antonio. Dr. Fur- 
 ness even finds in our " Merchant of Venice " traces of 
 this older play.'' Finally, the famous "Jew of Malta," 
 written before 1590, must have had its influence upon a 
 playwright who had learned many a lesson in his art from 
 the example of Marlowe.' 
 
 a damsel of the lady warns Giannetto about the drugged wine, and 
 he wins the mistress of Belmonte, taking the lordship of that land. 
 He forgets Ansaldo ; but at last, at sight of a procession, is reminded 
 that the Jew's bond is forfeit that day. He tells the lady, is loaded 
 with ducats, and hurries to Venice. She, however, follows him, dis- 
 guised as a lawyer. The Jew refuses Giannetto's proffer of money, 
 and demands the pound of flesh. The lady causes her fame as a 
 lawyer to be noised abroad, and Giannetto and the Jew agree to 
 refer the question to so great a jurist. Ansaldo is stripped naked, 
 and the Jew is about to cut the flesh with a razor, when the lawyer 
 stops him. "No blood ! If a drop, off goes your head !" The 
 Jew, in a rage, tears the bond to pieces. As reward, the lawyer asks 
 for Giannetto's ring, and goes. Giannetto and Ansaldo go to Bel- 
 monte, where the lady feigns anger, quibbles about some woman 
 who has the ring, and reveals the whole story. Giannetto gives as 
 wife to Ansaldo the damsel who had advised him about the wine. 
 
 ' All this material is collected, sifted, and valued by Dr. Furness 
 in his appendix On the Sottrce of the Plot. 
 
 ' Ibid., p. 331. Further, a passage in Silvayn's Orator, a French 
 collection of model pleas or " declamations " — translated into Eng- 
 lish, 1596 — may have been read by Shakspere, with results in Shy- 
 lock's speech at the trial. (Variorum, p. 810 ff.) 
 
 " Ward, Eng. Dram. Lit., I., 188 fl., makes an elaborate com- 
 parison of the two plays. 
 
xxxvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 V. CONSTKUCTION OF THE PlAY. 
 
 It is the fashion nowadays to follow in closest detail 
 the steps of Shakspere's artistic and professional triumph 
 in turning the narrative material, or in this case, perhaps, 
 the unknown play, into the drama which lies before us.' 
 We are told that "The Merchant of Venice" is a play 
 " of Nemesis ; " " and so it is, if we choose to read it in 
 that light. Antonio represents " self-sufficiency," and so 
 we may understand him. But is it necessary to assume 
 that Shakspere had the special idea of Nemesis in his 
 mind, and is it necessary to regard Antonio as a type of 
 self-sufficiency, with a narrow escape from horrible death 
 as the result of this fault ? Did an Elizabethan audience 
 need any such sauce as the notion of Nemesis to make 
 the Jew's fate palatable ? Eead ' what a good Christian, 
 a moral, self-contained, and highly pious man, thought 
 of usurers in that day, and one will be reminded of the 
 temper of a modern mob of " good citizens " bent on 
 lynching a horse-thief or a guilty negro. But take the 
 pound of flesh. It is absurd as law, a futile thing ; it 
 offends the common sense of every one ; wherefore let us 
 see how the mighty artist escapes this snare. He makes. 
 Professor Moulton tells us, the whole affair probable and 
 decent by a subtle suggestion of "flesh" as opposed to 
 "metal," — to the notion, repulsive to Antonio, that a 
 metal can " breed." How can metal breed metal ? Well, 
 
 ' Readers nf this mind may enjoy the analysis of our play made Toy 
 Professor Moulton in his Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist, pp. 
 43-89. For a hostile opinion o£ this book, see Professor Dowden in 
 The Academy, August 29, 1885 (p. 127). 
 
 ^ Shakspere counted it, in all probability, as a comedy, according 
 to the medieval idea which regarded alone the fatal or harmless out- 
 come of the plot. See au excellent discussion of the matter by ten 
 Brink, Shakspere, pp. 110-113, 119. 
 
 ' Udall's State of the Church of England, cited above. 
 
INTRODUCTION xxxvii 
 
 suggests Shylock, horribly, how about flesh, as in the 
 case of Jacob's cattle ? Let one say a pound of flesh, if 
 that will suit Antonio better than the other ofispring. 
 Thus " inductive criticism " analyzes dramatic construc- 
 tion, and cannily puts us at the heart of Shakspere's 
 artistic methods. But did Shakspere reason this so 
 finely ? Did his audience need the subtlety ? As Jus- 
 serand would bid us, let us read a romance or two of the 
 sort Shakspere's people loved, and come back to the play, 
 cheerfully prepared for any absurdity whatever. Analy- 
 sis of this subtle sort is good in the case of Browning,' 
 because the men and women of real life, from whom the 
 poet drew his figures, are of our own time and habit of 
 thought ; but on the plan of speculation about Browning 
 we psychologize Shakspere, and disdain the sure, slow- 
 footed way of historical and comparative criticism based 
 at every step on the widest possible study of the artist's 
 material, his language, and of the temper of his time. 
 Let us ask a question in point. When Shakspere used 
 for this play the story of the caskets, was he working outi 
 artistically what Professor Moulton calls the Problem of | 
 Judgment by Appearances, with an actual case in which : 
 "there is the maximum of importance in the issue to 
 be decided, and the minimum of evidence by which to ' 
 decide it"? Or was he eagerly grasping a fine "situa- 
 tion " for the stage, with opportunity for good groupings, 
 suspense on the part of the spectators, and a bit of music 
 — a situation which he proceeded to sketch with perfect 
 and often unconscious dramatic tact, and with his inevi- 
 table felicity of phrase and rhythm ? It is heresy ; but 
 we choose the latter alternative. 
 
 Let us study this play, then, as a play, a drama, an 
 "imitated action," in which (here is the dramatic tri- 
 
 ' See the excellent analysis of Browning's L(ist Duchess in L. A. 
 Sherman's Analytics of Literature, p. 203 S. 
 
xxxviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 umph) the events or plot mean nothing to us except as 
 things which happen to certain human beings in whom 
 we feel absorbing interest ; let us not study it as a series 
 of artistic and psychological triumphs, not, above all, as 
 a theory worked out in dramatic form. If we wish to 
 analyze the construction of this play, it is well to do it by 
 a study of Shakspere's other dramas ; or, if we would 
 enlarge the borders of comparison, to study the advance 
 made in the characterization of Shakspere as compared 
 with the marvelous work of Chaucer in his vivid descrip- 
 tions. Compare, say, the Squire with Romeo, the Wife 
 of Bath with Mrs. Quickly. To understand Shakspere's 
 attitude in regard to Portia and Bassanio — where every 
 reader feels that my lord has far the best of the bargain — 
 let us not rouse heaven and earth to show that this admired 
 proportion is precisely what we should expect from right 
 psychology and perfect art, but let us soberly study the 
 point of view which Shakspere had to take. It is the same 
 notion of woman's place in matters of the sort which one 
 finds in Chaucer's " Clerk's Tale," in the fine ballad of 
 " Child Waters," ' and in many late medieval poems, — 
 but with a difference. The woman is the central and supe- 
 rior figure in all these cases, with the medieval idea of 
 submission as a foil. " My Lord Bassanio !" cries Portia 
 in too facile surrender, and hails him her lord, her gov- 
 ernor, her king. Only my Lord Bassanio has sloughed 
 the brutality, the caprice, which were matters of course 
 in medieval eyes. 
 
 In the same way one must be desperately wary how he 
 accepts the "central purpose," the "fundamental idea," 
 and whatever else of the sort. In a recent novel, Mr. 
 Thomas Hardy makes his hero go with trembling thanks 
 
 ' A similar motive in the well-known Nut-Brown Maid is of par- 
 ticular interest because of the assumption by modern critics that the 
 poem was composed by a woman. 
 
I^^TRODUCTION xxxix 
 
 to the composer of some music which has thrilled the 
 susceptible youth to the heart. Meaning and suggestion 
 and purpose are all so clear ! But the upshot of the visit 
 is blank dismay for the visitor ; apparently the composer 
 put no such message whatever into his work. Did Shak- 
 spere write his plays with distinct moral purpose ? At 
 once the critic turns to the play in question, searches, 
 muses, psychologizes, and comes to his conclusion by a 
 path perilously near "the o\di priori road." Is his an- 
 swer afl&rmative ? — he bids us see for ourselves how the 
 play has its purpose writ large upon it.' Is the answer 
 negative ? — brave talk of art for art's sake. But the slow- 
 footed method of historical comparison and verbal criti- 
 cism cannot make these fine leaps along the smooth way 
 of modern thinking. What did these words mean for the 
 dramatist, and what habits of thought held him to his 
 time ? Did he aim at a moral, and did his plays bear a 
 definite purpose ? Certainly the middle ages, if they 
 stood for anything in literature, stood for a moral and 
 stood for allegory. " Take the morality thereof, good 
 men!" was no jest even for "tales of solace." The 
 application of letters to conduct was a matter of course. 
 Did this state of things hold over with the revival of 
 learning, and is it to be found in the drama ? Certainly 
 allegory died hard,, as Dunbar teaches us, — the first 
 English poet with that modern note which the French 
 first heard in Villon. Probably few passages in "Hamlet " 
 — barring that famous "Eevenge !" — pleased its hearers 
 more than the elaborate rules for conduct given by Polo- 
 nius to Laertes ; " and we may be sure that highly moral 
 
 ' It is only fair to refer the reader to Professor Moulton's chapter 
 called, in subordinate title, "A Study in Central Ideas," in which he 
 contends that such an idea can be found in a given play by a purely 
 inductive process. 
 
 ' Sohipper, William Dunbar, p. 307, thinks these lines to be derived 
 from the same source as Dunbar used for his Rewl of Anis Self. 
 
xl INTRODUCTION 
 
 speeches were as acceptable to an Elizabethan pit as they 
 are now to a gallery of " toughs " in a Bowery theatre. 
 But the fundamental moral or psychological idea of a 
 whole play is quite another matter ; and study of the 
 Elizabethan drama seems to warrant a denial of such 
 intentions. ' The drama^ like the story of any great event, 
 holds a moral in solution ; and the purging of the mind 
 " through pity and terror " " is a moral result of the 
 highest sort. There is, however, no specific, no inten- 
 tional moral in one of Shakspere's dramas, while there is 
 the keenest interest in the play of cause and effect between 
 a chosen group of characters and a chosen series of events.^ 
 Yet great critics like Gerviniis soberly enlighten us in 
 regard to Shakspere's "darker purpose" in each play. 
 " The intention of the poet in ' The Merchant of Venice,' " 
 he says, " was to depict the relation of man to property." 
 Bassanio's remarks on the caskets, the critic goes on to 
 explain, show what Shakspere thought of the value to be 
 put on money. Shylock is avarice, Bassanio prodigality ; 
 Antonio is a passive mean between these extremes, while 
 Portia plays the nobler because the more active part.* 
 
 ' See Dowden, Shakspere, his Mind cmd Art, p. 25. 
 
 ^ The concluding lines of Samson Agonistes cannot be quoted too 
 often as the noblest possible comment on Aristotle's definition. 
 
 ' It is interesting to note that while Shakspere's comedies have no 
 avowed moral, Ben Jonson makes the moral his real aim. Con- 
 versely, while Shakspere is "romantic," and uses all splendor of 
 diction, cheerily dealing in absurdities and illusions, Ben is " real- 
 istic " and insists on natural language, unforced diction, and everj'day 
 persons and scenes. The locality is London, the characters are mer- 
 chants and the like ; while Shakspere clings to the conventional and 
 foreign. — A paper by Aronstein on Ben Jonson' s Theorie des Lustspiels 
 in the Anglia, xvii. , 466 ff . , contains some useful hints about Ben's art. 
 
 '■Shakespeare Commentaries, trans, by P. E. Bunnett, I., 386. — 
 It is on similar lines of analysis that Professor Sherman works : see 
 his Analytics of Literature, p. 93 fl. , where into Shakspere's practice 
 is forced a theory which Shakspere himself, wjio did not know his 
 Hegel, would hardly have understood on any terms. 
 
INTRODUCTION xli 
 
 Now there is no objection against this process so far as it 
 tells in each case " what Shakspere has done for me." 
 One is glad that Professor Moulton got so clear an idea of 
 Nemesis from our play, that Gervinus came to such sound 
 notions about money ; but the " what I have done for 
 Shakspere " is another matter. Certainly the average 
 schoolboy cannot be dragged through all this comment, 
 and live. He can breathe the tonic air, the moral air, of 
 the drama, and be the better for it ; but a prudent teacher 
 will shun such analysis of motives, such perpetual dis- 
 cussion about what Shakspere intended by this character 
 or by that event,— a process impertinent as comment and 
 disastrous as theory. As bad, almost, is the tendency of 
 certain critics to pester us with shrieks of admiration at 
 every other passage ; such a critic unceasingly bids us 
 doff hat to the supreme artist, finding — sly fellow— a 
 stroke of genius lurking behind every semicolon. The 
 reader's peace is gone ; and powder, as Emerson puts it, 
 is laid under every man's breakfast-table. 
 
SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHERS 
 
 The first thing that strikes us in " The Merchant of 
 Venice " is its interest, its entertaining quality. People 
 like to see it on the stage, and thej like to read it in the 
 book. The schoolboy will like it ; and the first business 
 of the teacher is to raise about it no bewildering mist of 
 comment. This is a negative virtue. It helps to bring 
 about that stimulation of interest in good books which is 
 one of the main objects of the course in English.' The 
 second and harder task is to lead this interest along the 
 line of honest work, lesson-getting, study, so that the boy 
 will be better prepared to read and understand another 
 play of Shakspere, and will have definite results in the 
 knowledge of literature. To attain this end there must 
 be hard study of the language of the play, deliberate work 
 upon the grammar and vocabulary. Against this sup- 
 posed lame and impotent conclusion there are arsenals 
 of invective ready at hand ; but the teacher of any,experi- 
 ence knows that with ninety-nine classes out of a hundred 
 it is a necessary conclusion. It may be laid down as a 
 principle in this matter that the most vigorous investi- 
 gation of words and syntax will do no harm to the appre- 
 ciation of the play, provided always that the understand- 
 ing of the play itself, and not a grand philological battue, 
 not an exhibition of the teacher's knowledge, be the ob- 
 
 ' Whatever one may think of such analysis of the dramatic art as 
 is set forth by Professor Moulton (see the second part of the book 
 already cited), it seems fairly evident that, except in the form of 
 a simple summary of the parts of the plot, it is not suited for classes 
 in school. 
 
SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHERS xliii 
 
 ject of the work. For a lover of Shakspere, the more he 
 knows about Shakspere's words and sentences, the better ; 
 and Landor's pretty saying will not apply here, that 
 
 " Ignorance 
 Never hurt devotion." 
 
 A class comes together to work ; words and syntax make 
 work ; while appreciations and aesthetic comment, valu- 
 able as flourish, adornment, solace, can never yield that 
 solid basis of work without which a class inevitably goes 
 to pieces. A critical study of the language of the play is 
 the foundation of all work in the class-room ; but this 
 criticism must never be centrifugal or distracting. When 
 an editor or a teacher makes his book or class-room a 
 philological junk-shop, he loses hold of his subject, kills 
 the interest of his class, and furnishes another "awful 
 example" for gentlemen who are so anxious about study- 
 ing literature as literature. Presumably, too, the play 
 was put into metrical form for a purpose, and the scholar 
 must understand the principles which govern Shakspere's 
 verse. Professor Corson has rightly insisted upon the in- 
 telligent reading of this verse, and upon a proper culti- 
 vation of the voice. The play was meant — far more than 
 modern poetry is meant — for the ear ; and to bring out 
 the sense of the line by reading which shall neither run 
 to mere sing-song, nor yet disguise the metre, is the clear 
 duty of every teacher. Cutting up verses into feet is 
 only dissection of a corpse. The verse moves ; and that 
 delicate interplay of the single verse-scheme with what is 
 called the rhythmic period, holds the secret of rhythm, 
 the secret of formal poetry. Metrical analysis can be 
 overdone ; but in a play which contains such passages of 
 pure rhythm as one finds in the opening lines of the fifth 
 act of "The Merchant of Venice," the metre must not 
 be neglected. The pupil should feel as far as he can the 
 
xliv SUaaESTIONS FOR TEACHERS 
 
 delicate response of verse to mood, as in the change from 
 ease to labor of two verses like Hamlet's 
 
 "Absent thee from felicity awhile, 
 And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain." 
 
 Language and rhythm provided for, there remains the 
 construction of the play itself, the plot, the story. This 
 is no difficult mg^tter for a class of young students who 
 love the quidquid agunt homines even more than the 
 teacher loves it, and who may be trusted to keep on close 
 terms with the actual story. It is a good plan at the 
 close of a lesson to require a statement of what has been 
 done in the play so far, with an occasional " What did 
 Portia say to that ? " to stimulate memory of the dia- 
 logue. Written exercises, too, of this sort have their use. 
 The student, moreover, should be made to keep his eye 
 on the progress of the action, to mark links, gaps, transi- 
 tions. He should be reminded that with no scene-shift- 
 ing of any importance, dramatic progress was more swift 
 than now. Where, too, does the action linger ? What 
 are the critical moments ? What does each act do for the 
 progress of things ? 
 
 Again, there are the characters. Here, too, the doc- 
 trine of a " central idea " should be used with extreme 
 caution. It is no good result when the scholar emerges 
 from his study of this play, strong in the faith that the 
 character of Portia was designed and worked out by the 
 artist in order that she might deliver her fine address on 
 mercy. It is bad, even, for a scholar to get the notion 
 that this exquisite appeal to Shylock is the keynote to 
 Portia's character, her typical utterance, mark of her 
 mood, — something she would have said, if she had thought 
 of it, to Nerissa or to Bassanio. Divorce, on the other 
 hand, this appeal from any hint of set and intended vir- 
 tue ; look at it as an outcome of the dramatic situation. 
 
SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHERS xlv 
 
 where a great occasion works to great purpose upon the 
 intense womanliness and loveliness of this most womanly 
 and most lovely of all Shakspere's women. ' Meanwhile, the 
 characters themselves may bo characterized, may be studied 
 and grouped. Gratiano, for instance, suggests at once 
 Mercutio in the tragedy ; but Mercutio is more lovable, 
 and is made of finer stuff. Bassanio's comrade chatters 
 and drolls it to the end, sharing his friend's fortune ; 
 while in the tragedy, with respect to the narrowing in- 
 tensity of interest in the fate of the lovers, Mercutio's 
 jokes are soon cut short by the death which finally over- 
 takes his fellow.' As to Shylock, there is so much to say 
 that the teacher, unless he be careful to a degree, will 
 bury the Jew under a landslide of comment and explana- 
 tion. Hudson, Dowden, and other commentators may be 
 drawn upon with profit ; but when all is said, there is 
 Shylock, and if the pupil feels the personality, the in- 
 tense reality, of the actual man, he can dispense with 
 critical views of what Sliakspere " meant" by the charac- 
 ter. It is perilous to quote Herder in these days ; but if 
 anything good has ever been said about the Homeric 
 poems, it is that famous advice : " Read Homer as if you 
 heard him singing in the street ! " So of Shakspere and 
 
 ' "My ideal of a perfect woman,'' said Mrs. Kerable ; but she 
 surely meant " perfect " to include a host of pretty failings. Portia 
 is impossible to the Sanford-and-Merton conception of things. In- 
 deed, literature has become so " allusive," that the characters of 
 Shakspere are little better than hewers of wood and drawers of 
 water. They are made to serve such incongruous masters, and are 
 sent on such preposterous errands, we forget they are their own mas- 
 ters and belong with their own people. Portia makes certain memo- 
 rable remarks about mercy and forgiveness ; but let us remember 
 that she lives at Belmont with her husband, one Bassanio, and has 
 no mind to dust the moralist's or the critic's study-table. 
 
 ' See also the comparison with scenes in the Two Gentlemen of 
 Verona, and remarks on Shakspere's "economy of invention," in 
 Wendell's William Shakspere, p. 147 fE. 
 
xlvi SUGGESTIONS FOB TEACHERS 
 
 his characters one may say : Read them as if you heard 
 them talking in the room. They are real enough. 
 
 The pervading difficulty in all teaching of English 
 literature lies in the twofold appeal made by literature 
 itself — the appeal to personal interest and the appeal to 
 impersonal interest. The personal interest is obvious, 
 immediate, unscientific. One "likes" a poem, reads 
 it, quotes it, gets the poet's picture. The old style of 
 study and criticism kept this interest in view ; it dis- 
 cussed taste, and told people what they ought to read. 
 The other sort of interest is impersonal ; it claims less 
 admiration and more study ; it dismisses the personal 
 relation to an author, and regards letters as a whole, as 
 an institution, with periods of rise and fall, as a thing of 
 development, reactions, influences exerted or received ; it 
 strikes the balance-sheet of a given literature, and reckons 
 with borrowings and lendings. Obedient to the ruling 
 impulse of our day, the study of literature has come to 
 be historical, comparative, and methodic, covering a terri- 
 tory so vast that division of labor is forced upon its fol- 
 lowers. Sainte-Beuve and Matthew Arnold combined in 
 a manner the old and the new methods ; ' but they were 
 not of the scientific school, and did little for origins and 
 sources. Probably these two camps will continue hostile 
 forever, and at every clash " pedant ! '' will voice the 
 defiance of one, and "dilettante !" the contempt of the 
 other. In these latter days, however, another doctrine 
 has come to light, which shuns the laborious and minute 
 investigation of the historical school, and yet scorns the 
 exsufflicate and blown surmise of personal criticism. It 
 borrows its method from science, from the laboratory, 
 
 ■ Arnold's Study of Celtic Literature shows this double purpose, 
 but with the personal note dominant ; the late Professor ten Brink's 
 work in English literature is a better instance of successful com- 
 bination. 
 
SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHERS xlvii 
 
 and takes its materials from the same sources to which 
 Portia's friend, the young baron of England, applied for 
 his clothing and behavior. In some respects the new 
 doctrine is successful. Where it insists that the student 
 shall use his own powers of observation, shall do for him- 
 self what others used to do for him, or, perhaps, never 
 did at all, the results are welcome and salutary. It should 
 not be held responsible for all the nonsense which gre- 
 garious study of Browning, or of Ibsen, or of whatever 
 literary whim, has brought forth among half-edncated 
 people. Leaning hard on modern psychology, it achieves 
 through competent representatives a distinct success in 
 dealing with modern poets like Browning. On the other 
 hand, it does harm in two ways. The name often given 
 to it begs the whole question ; for it is yet to be proved 
 that methods of the laboratory are applicable to the 
 material of literature. More to the present purpose is 
 the harm this doctrine can do when used to encourage 
 the vice of our time, making a half-taught student thrust 
 his drag-net into a sea of muddy thinking, setting him 
 to glib chatter of "Dante and Darwin," of cheap biology, 
 physics, psychology, music, painting, and what not. This 
 is hardly to be desired on any terms, and certainly has no 
 place in the school-room. 
 
 So much for Scylla. Oharybdis may stand for the 
 opposite tendency to let aesthetics go its way, and to 
 take refuge in the blessed region of instructive and 
 interesting facts. How did Chaucer's prioress eat her 
 meals ? When did the possessive its come into use ? Is 
 it found in the Bible ? Pope speaks of " coSee which 
 makes the politician wise." When was coffee introduced 
 as a beverage into England ? What did it cost ? In 
 what other poems is coffee mentioned ? Do you like 
 coffee ? Does it make a politician wise now ? If not, 
 why not ? And so one may fill the pupil's fine pate with 
 
xlviii SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHERS 
 
 fine dirt, and have a lively, interested class, not, to be 
 sure, in English literature, but in that department over 
 which Professor Teufelsdrockh presided, the department 
 of things in general. 
 
 To come to a positive conclusion, the teacher who 
 undertakes to teach this' play to boys and girls of six- 
 teen, should first of all know the play for himself, love 
 the subject, and put the life of enthusiasm into all his 
 work.' He will have the pupils' interest in the play as 
 his vantage-ground from the start. He must not divert 
 this interest by appeals to questions in which they can 
 have at best only an artificial interest ; and all work done, 
 either by him or by them, must bear directly on the play. 
 Allowable outside topics are, of course, the life and work 
 of Shakspere, the history and manners of the time, and 
 some general information about the drama. Parallel 
 readings may be used, particularly in the study of differ- 
 ent characters. Striking passages should be committed 
 to memory by the scholars ; and summary of act or scene, 
 both by word of mouth and by writing, should be called 
 for frequently. The main work, however, should be the 
 acquiring of an intimate and systematic knowledge of the 
 language of the play, — not as language in the abstract, 
 mere verbal freaks and problems, but as the fine fabric 
 of the drama itself. When these things are thoroughly 
 done, the pupil will have increased his love of letters, his 
 knowledge of a masterpiece, his power to read intelli- 
 gently, his ability to discern and appreciate. 
 
 ' "Lehre thut viel, aber Aufmunterung thut alles," wrote Goethe 
 to his drawing-master. 
 
SPECIMEN EXAMINATION PAPER 
 
 (1) Divide the literal^ work of Shakspere into four periods, 
 giving approximate dates, the chai'acteristics of these periods, 
 and naming three plays from each of them. Name some play- 
 wrights and plays contemporary with (a) Shakspere's early and 
 (J) his later work. What reasons have we for this arrangement 
 of his plays? Where does the "Merchant of Venice " belong ? 
 What facts justify your answer ? What indirect evidence ? 
 How does the style of this play differ from that of "Macbeth " ? 
 from that of the "Two Gentlemen of Verona" ? 
 
 (3) What were the folios ? The quartos ? Significance of a 
 folio edition ? What English dramatic works were the first to 
 appear in folio ? 
 
 (3) What are the probable sources (a) direct, and (5) remote, of 
 the "Merchant of Venice " ? How has Shakspere improved on 
 the narrative ? What was the novel in his day ? 
 
 (4) Discuss the name " comedy " as applied to this play. Out- 
 line the first act, and tell wliat it does for the play as a whole. 
 What is the situation at the end of the fourth act ? What does 
 the fifth act do for the play ? What is the climax of the play ? 
 Name some scenes where prose is used. What was Euphuism ? 
 Do you find any evidences in tliis play that its author was inti- 
 mate with the stage, — as actor or manager ? 
 
 (5) Write out the song "Tell me where is fancy bred." What 
 is the significance of the song ? Its metre ? Metre of the regu- 
 lar verse ? What stages of progress and change have critics found 
 in Shakspere's use of metre ? What four remedies may we apply 
 to verses seemingly irregular? What is "hovering accent"? 
 Give an example. Discuss : 
 
 Of such misery doth she cut me off. 
 Tour miud is tossing on the ocean. 
 What many men desire ! That many may be meant . . . 
 
1 SPECIMEN EXAMINATION PAPER 
 
 Write out three or four verses which you remember for their 
 beauty or cadence. 
 
 (6) What peculiarities do you remember in Shakspere's use of 
 English ? 
 
 (7) Explain : 
 
 I woald have stay'd . . . 
 
 If worthier friends had not prevented me. 
 
 Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 
 From such a noble rate. 
 
 How like afaimlng publican he looks ! 
 
 The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands. 
 
 Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect . . . 
 
 The Jew is the very devil incamal.- 
 
 My nose fell a- bleeding on BlaeJc-Monday last . . . 
 
 Let it not enter in your mind of love. 
 
 Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond . . ■ 
 
 I could not do withal. 
 
 (8) Describe Bassanio. Would the play gain if he were made 
 more prominent, more active, and drawn more in detail ? 
 
 (9) Make a brief argument for Shakspere's greatness as a poet 
 and playwright, using only this play for evidence. 
 
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THE MOST EXCELLENT HISTORY 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 WITH THE fiXTUEME CRUELTT OP SHTIjOCK THE JEW 
 TOWARDS THE SAID MERCHANT, IN CUTTING A JD8T 
 POUND OF HIS FLESH, AND THE OBTAINING OF PORTIA 
 BY THE CHOICE OP THREE CHESTS 
 
 AS IT HATH BEEN DIVERS TIMES ACTED 
 BY THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN'S SERVANTS 
 
 WEITTEN BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 The DuKB OF Venice. 
 
 The PitmcB OP Morocco, ) ^ .^^ ^ p^^ 
 
 The Prince op Arragon, J 
 
 Antonio, a merchant of Venice. 
 
 Bassanio, Ms friend, suitor likewise to Portia. 
 
 Salanio, ~\ 
 
 „ ' V friends to Antonio and Bassanio. 
 
 Gratiano, (•' 
 
 Salbrio, ' 
 
 Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. 
 
 Shylock, a rich Jew. 
 
 Tubal, a Jew, his friend. 
 
 Launcblot CrOBBO, the clown, servant to Shylock. 
 
 Old Gobbo, father to Launcdot. 
 
 Leonardo, servant to Bassanio. 
 
 Balthasar, \,ervanu to Portia. 
 Stephano, S 
 
 Portia, a rich heiress. 
 Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 
 Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 
 
 Magniflcoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, Ser- 
 vants to Portia, and other Attendants. 
 
 Scene : Partly at Venice, and partly at Bdmont, the seat of Poi'tia, 
 on the Continent. 
 
ACT FIEST. 
 
 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 stufE '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 mj^self. 
 
 Salak. 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. 
 
 Salae. My wind, cooling my broth. 
 
 Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
 What harm a wind too great at sea might do. 
 
4 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act L 
 
 I should not see the sandy hour-glass run. 
 
 But I should think of shallows and of flats. 
 
 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. Fie, 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 : 
 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes. 
 And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper ; 
 And other of such vinegar aspect. 
 That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile. 
 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 
 
Sc. I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gkatiano. 
 
 Salak. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
 
 Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well : 
 
 "We leave you now with better company. 
 Salae. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, 60 
 
 If worthier friends had not prevented me. 
 Akt. 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'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 
 
 \_Exeunt Salariito 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. 
 Akt. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
 
 A stage, where every man must play a part. 
 
 And mine a sad one. 
 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 
 
6 THE MEBOHANT OF VENICE [Act L 
 
 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. 
 I'll 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'll end my exhortation after dinner. 
 LoE. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner-time : 
 
 1 must be one of these same dumb wise men. 
 For Gratiano never lets me speak. 
 
 GuA. Well, keep me company but two years more. 
 
 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 
 
 Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. 110 
 
 Gra. Thanks, i' faith ; for silence is only commendable 
 In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. 
 
 {^Exeunt Gkatiano and Lore]S"zo. 
 
 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 
 
So. I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 1 
 
 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 120 
 
 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 
 Prom such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
 Is, to come fairly off from the great debts. 
 Wherein my time, something too prodigal. 
 Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 130 
 
 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. 
 
 AiiTT. 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. 
 
 Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 140 
 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. 
 As I will watch the aim, or to find both, 150 
 
 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 ; 
 
8 THE MERCHANT OP VENICE [Act I. 
 
 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 lay to me what I should do. 
 That in your knowledge may by me be done. 
 And I am prest unto it ; therefore, speak. 160 
 
 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 
 
 Eenowned suitors : and her sunny locks 
 
 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 170 
 
 Which makes her seat of Belmont Oolchos' strand. 
 
 And many Jasons come in quest of her. 
 
 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 : therefore go forth ; 
 Try what my credit can in Venice do : 180 
 
 That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost. 
 To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
 Gro, presently inquire, and so will I, 
 Where money is ; and I no question make. 
 To have it of my trust, or for my sake. [Exeunt. 
 
Sc. IL] THE MERCHANT OF VENIOE 9 
 
 Scene II. — Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 Enter Poktia and Neeissa. 
 
 PoK. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of 
 this great world. 
 
 Nee. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were 
 in the same abundance as your good fortunes 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 com- 
 petency lives longer. 
 
 PoE. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 10 
 
 N"ee. They would be better, if well followed. 
 
 PoE. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to 
 do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cot- 
 tages 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 fol- 
 low mine own teaching. The brain may devise laws 
 for the blood ; but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold de- 
 cree : such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er 
 the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this rea- 
 soning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband. 
 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, N"erissa, that I cannot choose one, nor re- 
 fuse none ? 26 
 
 Neb. Your father was ever virtuous ; and holy men, at 
 their death, have good inspirations : therefore, the lot- 
 tery, that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, 
 silver, and lead, — whereof who chooses his meaning 
 
10 THE MEBOHANT OF rENIOE [Act I. 
 
 chooses yon, — will, no doubt, never be chosen by any 
 rightly, but one who shall rightly love. But what 
 warmth is there in your afEection towards any of these 
 princely suitors that are already come ? 
 
 PoE. I pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou namest 
 them, I will describe them ; and, according to my de- 
 scription, level at my affection. 37 
 
 Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 
 
 PoE. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but 
 talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great appropria- 
 tion to his own good parts, that he can shoe him him- 
 self. I am much af card my lady his mother played 
 false with a smith. 
 
 Nee. Then there is the County Palatine. 44 
 
 PoE. He doth nothing but frown ; as who should say, " If 
 you will not have me, choose : " he hears merry tales, 
 and smiles not : I fear he will prove the weeping phil- 
 osopher when he grows old, being so full of unman- 
 nerly 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. Grod defend me from these two ! 
 
 Nbr. How say you by the French lord. Monsieur Le 
 Bon ? 53 
 
 Pes. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. 
 In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker : 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 capering : 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. 63 
 
 Nee. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young 
 baron of England ? 
 
Sc. n.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 11 
 
 PoB. You know I say notMng to him ; for he understands 
 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 ? How oddly he is suited ! I think 
 he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in 
 Prance, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour 
 every where. 74 
 
 Wer. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour ? 
 
 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 Sax- 
 ony's nephew ? 82 
 
 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. 91 
 
 PoB. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a 
 deep glass of Ehenish wine on the contrary casket ; for, 
 if the devil be within and that temptation without, I 
 know he will choose it. I will do anything, N"erissa, 
 ere I'll be married to a sponge. 96 
 
 Ner. Tou need not fear, lady, the having any of these 
 lords : they have acquainted me with their determi- 
 nations ; which is, indeed, to return to their home, and 
 to trouble you with no more suit, unless you may be 
 
12 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 ■won by some other sort than your father's imposition, 
 depending on the caskets. 103 
 
 PoE. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste 
 as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner 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. 108 
 
 Nek. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a 
 Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in 
 company of the Marquis of Montferrat ? 
 
 PoK. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think he was so 
 called. 
 
 Nee. True, madam ; he, of all the men that ever my 
 foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair 
 lady. 116 
 
 PoE. I remember him well ; and I remember him worthy 
 of thy praise. 
 
 Enter a Sbevikg-man. 
 
 How now ! what news ? 
 
 Seev. 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. 
 
 PoE. 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 devil, I had rather he should 
 shrive me than wive me. 128 
 
 Oome, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 
 Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another 
 knocks at the door. [Exeunt. 
 
Sc. IlL] THE MERCHANT OF YENIQE 13 
 
 ScEKE III. — Venice. A puUic place. 
 Enter Bassanio and Shtlock. 
 
 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 An- 
 tonio bound. 
 
 Bass. Your answer to that. 
 
 Shy. Antonio is a good man. 
 
 Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ? 13 
 
 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 snpposition : he hath 
 an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies ; I 
 understand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third 
 at Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ventures he 
 hath, squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, 
 sailors but men : there be land-rats and water-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 thou- 
 sand ducats ; I think I may take his bond. 25 
 
 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 Antonio ? 
 
14 THE MEBOHANT OF VENICE [Act L 
 
 Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 
 
 Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which 
 your prophet the Wazarite 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 yon, nor pray with you. What news 
 on the Eialto ? Who is he comes here .'' 35 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 
 
 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 40 
 
 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. 
 Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe. 
 If I forgive him ! 
 
 Bass. Shylock, do you hear ? 
 
 Shy. I am debating of my present store ; 
 
 And, by the near guess of my memory, 50 
 
 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 Aktonio.] Rest you fair, good 
 
 signior ; 
 Your worship was the last man in our months. 
 
 Ant. Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow. 
 
So. m.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 15 
 
 By taking nor by giving of excess, 
 
 Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
 
 I'll break a custom. Is lie yet possessed 60 
 
 How much ye would ? 
 
 Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 
 
 Asr. And for three months. 
 
 Sht. 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. 
 
 Sht. When Jacob grazed his imcle 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, — 70 
 
 An't. And what of him ? did he take interest ? 
 
 Sht. 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 skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands. 
 And stuck them up before the fulsome ewes. 
 Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
 Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. 80 
 This was a way to thrive, and he was blest : 
 And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Sht. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast : 
 But note me, signior. 
 
16 THE MEBOHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 Ant. Mark yon this, Bassanio, 
 
 The devil can cite Scripture for his pnrpose. 90 
 
 An evil soul, producing holy witness. 
 
 Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; 
 
 A goodly apple rotten at the heart : 
 
 0, 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 — 
 
 Akt. 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 : 100 
 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
 You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog. 
 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 110 
 
 Over your threshold : moneys is your suit. 
 What should I say to you ? Should I not say 
 " Hath a dog money ? is it possible 
 A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? " Or 
 Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key. 
 With bated breath and whispering humbleness. 
 Say this, — 
 
 " Pair 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 130 
 
 I'll lend you thus much moneys ? " 
 
 Ant. I am as like to call thee so again. 
 
Sc. m.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 11 
 
 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, 130 
 Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with. 
 Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
 Of usance for my moneys, and you '11 not hear me : 
 This is kind I offer. 
 
 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 140 
 
 Be nominated for an equal pound 
 Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
 In what part of your body pleaseth me. 
 
 Akt. Content, i' faith : I 'U 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. AVhy, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it : 
 Within these two months, that's a month before 
 This bond expires, I do expect return ' 150 
 
 Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 
 
 Shy. father Abram, what these Christians are, 
 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 
 2 
 
18 THE MEROHANT OP VENICE EAct H. 
 
 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 : 160 
 
 If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
 
 And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 
 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 ; 
 
 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. 170 
 Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 
 Akt. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; 
 
 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 Pkince of Morocco 
 and his train ; Portia, Nerissa, and others attending. 
 
 MoR. Mislike me not for my complexion. 
 The sjjia&ow'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. 
 
Sc. I.] TIIE MERCHANT OF VENIOE 19 
 
 I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
 
 Hath fear'd the valiant : hy my love, I swear 
 
 The best-regarded virgins of our clime 10 
 
 Have loved it too : I would not change this hue. 
 
 Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 
 
 PoK. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
 By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ; 
 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 yon. 
 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 yon : 
 
 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. 
 
 PoE. You must take your chance ; 
 
 And either not attempt to choose at all. 
 Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong, 40 
 
20 THE MERGHANT OF VENICE [Act II. 
 
 Never to speak to lady afterward 
 
 In way of marriage : therefore be advised. 
 MoK. Nor will not. Oome, bring me unto my chance. 
 PoB. First, forward to the temple : after dinner 
 
 Your hazard shall be made. 
 MoK. Good fortune then ! 
 
 To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 46 
 
 {^Cornets, 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 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 conscience says, "Laun- 
 celot, budge not." " Budge," says the fiend. " Budge 
 not," says my conscience. " Conscience," say I, " you 
 counsel well ;" " 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 
 
Sc. n.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 21 
 
 devil ; and, to run away from the Jew, I should be 
 ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the 
 devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil in- 
 carnal ; and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a 
 kind of hard conscience, 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 com- 
 mand ; I will run. 30 
 
 Enter Old Gobbo with a basket. 
 
 Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the 
 
 way to master Jew's ? 
 Laun. [Aside.] heavens, this is my true-begotten 
 
 father ! who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel 
 
 blind, knows me not : I will try confusions with 
 
 him. 
 Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the 
 
 way to master Jew's ? 
 Laujt. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, 
 
 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. 42 
 
 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 waters. Talk you 
 
 of young Master Launcelot ? 
 Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son : his father, 
 
 though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, 
 
 God be thanked, well to live. 51 
 
 Laun. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of 
 
 young Master Launcelot. 
 Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 
 
22 THE MEROHANT OF VENIOE [Act n. 
 
 Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech yon, 
 talk you of young Master Launcelot ? 
 
 Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 
 
 Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Laun- 
 celot, 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. 62 
 
 Gob. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very stafE 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 ? 
 
 Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman : 
 but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul, 
 alive or dead ? 
 
 Lauk. Do you not know me, father ? 
 
 Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not. 71 
 
 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 blessing : truth will come to light ; 
 murder cannot 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. 79 
 
 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 Margery 
 . your wife is my mother. 
 
 Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed : I'll be sworn, if thou 
 be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. 
 Lord worshipped might he be ! what a beard hast thou 
 
Sc. II] THE MERCHANT OF VENIOE 23 
 
 got ! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin 
 my fill-horse has on his tail. 91 
 
 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. 
 
 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 '& 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 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. rare fortune ! here comes 
 the man : to him, father ; for I am a Jew, if I serve 
 the Jew any longer. 108 
 
 Enter Bassakio, 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 liveries to making ; 
 
 and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. 
 
 [Exit a Servant. 
 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 — 130 
 
24 TEB MEBOHANT OF VENICE [Act II. 
 
 Laitn. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, 
 and have a desire, — as my father shall specify, — 
 
 Gob. His master and he, saving your worship's reverence, 
 are scarce cater-cousins, — 
 
 Lauit. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, hav- 
 ing done me wrong, doth cause me, — as my father, be- 
 ing, I hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you, — 
 
 Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow 
 upon your worship, and my suit is, — 129 
 
 Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, 
 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 ? 
 
 Laun. Serve you, sir. 
 
 Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 
 
 Bass. I know thee well ; thou hast obtained thy suit : 
 Shylock thy master spoke with me this day. 
 And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 
 To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 140 
 
 The follower of so poor a gentleman. 
 
 Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my 
 mast"Sr 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. 148 
 
 Latjn. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no ; I have 
 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 sim- 
 ple 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 
 
Sc. II.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 25 
 
 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, she's a good wench for 
 this gear. Father, come ; I'll take my leave of the 
 Jew in the twinkling of an eye. 160 
 
 [Exeunt Launcelot a7id Old Gobbo. 
 
 Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this : 
 These things being bought and orderly bestow'd, 
 Eeturh in haste, for I do feast to-night 
 My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee, go. 
 
 Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 
 
 Enter GtRATiano. 
 
 Gba. Where is your master ? 
 
 LEO]sr. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, — 
 
 Bass. Gratiano ! 
 
 Gka. 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. 171 
 
 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 
 To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
 Thy skipping spirit ; lest, through thy wild behaviour, 
 I be misconstrued in the place I go to, 180 
 
 And lose my hopes. 
 
 Gba. Signior Bassanio, hear me : 
 
 If I do not put on a sober habit. 
 Talk with respect, and swear but now and then. 
 
26 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IL 
 
 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, 
 
 Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
 
 To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
 
 Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. 190 
 
 GrBA. 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 : 
 
 But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — The same. A room in Shylock'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. 9 
 
 Lauk. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful 
 pagan, most sweet Jew ! if a Christian did not play 
 the knave, and get thee, I am much deceived. But, 
 adieu : these foolish drops do something drown my 
 manly spirit : adieu. {Exit Lauis-celot. 
 
So. IV.] THE MERCHANT OF VENIOE 27 
 
 Jes. Farewell, good 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, 
 
 I am not to his manners. Lorenzo, 
 
 If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 20 
 
 Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. \^Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. — Tlie same. A street. 
 Enter Geatiano, Lorenzo, Salaeino, 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, luitli a letter. 
 
 Friend Launcelot, what's the news ? 
 Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall 
 
 seem to signify. 11 
 
 Loe. I know the hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 
 
 And whiter than the paper it writ on 
 
 Is the fair hand that writ. 
 Gea. Love-news, in faith. 
 
 Laun. By your leave, sir. 
 Loe. Whither goest thou ? 
 Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup 
 
 to-night with my new master the Christian. 18 
 
28 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act H. 
 
 LoK. Hold here, take this : tell gentle Jessica 
 I will not fail her ; speak it privately. 
 
 Go, gentlemen, {Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Will you prepare you for this masque to-night ? 
 
 I am provided of a torch-bearer. 
 Salae. Ay, marry, I '11 be gone about it straight. 
 Salais". And so will I. 
 LoK. Meet me and Gratiano 
 
 At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 
 Salak. 'Tis good we do so. [^Exeunt Salak. 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 has 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 : 
 
 Pair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. — The same. Before Shtlock'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 ! 
 
 Laus-. Why, Jessica ! 
 
 Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call. 
 
Sc. v.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 29 
 
 LAUiT. Your worship was wont to tell me that I could do 
 nothing without bidding. 
 
 Enter Jessica. 
 
 Jes. Call yon ? 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. 
 
 LATJiir. I beseech you, sir, go : my young master doth ex- 
 pect 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-bleeding on Black-Mon- 
 day last at six o'clock i' the morning, falling out that 
 year on Ash- Wednesday was four year, in the after- 
 noon. 
 
 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 vamish'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 stafE, I swear 
 I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
 But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah ; 
 Say I will come. 
 
30 THE MERCHANT OE VENICE [Act IL 
 
 Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window, 
 for all this ; 41 
 
 There will come a Christian by. 
 Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit. 
 
 Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's oflEspring, 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 : 
 Past 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. 
 
 ScEKE VI. — The same. 
 Enter Gratiano and Salakino, masqued. 
 
 Gba. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 
 
 Desired us to make stand. 
 Salak. His hour is almost past. 
 
 Gka. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour. 
 
 For lovers ever run before the clock. 
 Salak. 0, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
 
 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 
 
Sc. VI.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 31 
 
 That he did pace them first ? All things that are. 
 Are with more spirit chased than enjoyed. 
 How like a younker or a prodigal 
 The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
 Hngg'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 affairs, 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, aiove, in boy's clothes. 
 
 Jes. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty. 
 Albeit I'll 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 30 
 But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 
 
 Lob. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. 
 
 Jes. 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. 
 
 Lob. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 40 
 
32 THE MEBOEANT OF VENIOE [Act IL 
 
 Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ? 
 
 They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light. 
 
 Why, 'tis an oflftce of discovery, love ; 
 
 And I should be obscured, 
 LoE. 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. 
 Gea. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. 
 LoE. 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, ielow. 
 
 What, art thou come ? On, gentlemen ; away ! 
 Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 
 
 [^Exit with Jessica and Salaeiko. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 AnTT. Who's there ? 
 
 Gea. Siguier Antonio ! 60 
 
 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. 
 Gea. I am glad on't : I desire no more delight 
 
 Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt. 
 
Sc.VIl] THE MERCHANT OF VENIOE 33 
 
 Scene VII. — Belmont. A room in Poetia's house. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, with the Peikce of 
 Morocco, and their trains. 
 
 PoB. 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 deserves ; " 
 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 
 
 PoE. The one of them contains my picture, prince : 
 If yon 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 ? 
 
 "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'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
 What says the silverwith 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 af eard of my deserving 
 Were but a weak disabling of myself. 30 
 
 3 
 
Si THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act II. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 sinful thought ! Never so rich a ^em 
 
 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. [ITe unlocks the golden casket. 
 
 MoR. hell ! what have we here ? 
 
 A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 
 There is a written scroll ! I'll read the writing. 
 
So. Vni] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 35 
 
 \^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 Ms train. Flourish of cornets. 
 PoR. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. 
 
 Let all of his complexioa choose me so. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScEN^E VIII. — Venice. A street. 
 Enter Salabino and Salanio. 
 
 Salae. 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, 
 
 AVho went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 
 Salae. 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 10 
 
 They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
 Salan. I never heard a passion so confused. 
 
 So strange, outrageous, and so variable. 
 
36 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act n. 
 
 As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
 
 " My daughter ! my ducats ! my daughter ! 
 
 Fled with a Christian ! 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 ! 31 
 
 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. 
 
 Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day. 
 Or he shall pay for this. 
 
 Salar. Marry, well remember'd. 
 
 I reasoned with a Frenchman yesterday. 
 Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
 The French and English, there miscaiTied 
 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 emplpy your chiefest thoughts 
 To courtship, and such fair pstents of love 
 As shall conveniently become you there : "' 
 And even there, his eye being big with tea^is. 
 Turning his face, he put his hafid bebind hiw. 
 
So. IX.] THE MEBOHANT OF VENIOE 37 
 
 And witli afEection wondrous sensible 
 
 He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted. 
 Salak. 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. 
 
 Scene IX. — Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Enter Nerissa and a Servitor. 
 
 N"er. 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 cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, 
 Portia, 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. 
 
38 THE MERCHANT OP VENICE [Act II. 
 
 Ak. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now 19 
 
 To my heart's hope ! Gold ; silver ; and base lead. 
 " 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." 
 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 deserves : " 
 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 
 
 0, 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 honour 
 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. 
 
Sc. IX.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 39 
 
 PoR. \^Aside. ] Too long a pause for that which you find 
 
 there. 
 Ak. What's here ? the portrait of a blinking idiot. 
 
 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 deserves." 
 
 Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
 
 Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better ? 60 
 
 PoK. 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'll keep my oath. 
 
 Patiently to bear my wroth. 
 
 [Exeunt Arragon and train. 
 PoR. Thus hath the candle singed the moth. 
 
 0, these deliberate fools ! when they do choose, 80 
 
 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
 Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy. 
 
40 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IIL 
 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 POB. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 
 
 Enter a Servakt. 
 
 Serv. Where is my lady ? 
 
 PoK. 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 
 
 Neb. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be ! \^Exeuni. 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 Scene I. Venice. A street. 
 Enter Salanio and Salabino. 
 
 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 they call the place, a very 
 dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcases of many a 
 
Sc. I] TEE MERCHANT OF VENIOE 41 
 
 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 believe she 
 wept for the death of a third husband. But it is true, 
 without any slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain 
 highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the honest An- 
 tonio,— that I had a title good enough to keep his 
 name company ! — 
 
 Salae. Come, the full stop. 15 
 
 ^'i^BBi-S-" I..wha4,^v^UbfiJr.? :W^,^^_ end i|. he hath 
 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 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 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. 90 
 
 Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too : Antonio, as I 
 heard in Genoa, — 
 
 Shy. What, what, what ? ill luck, ill luck ? 
 
 Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. 
 
 Shy. I thank God, I thank God ! Is 't true, is 't 
 true ? 
 
 Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the 
 wreck. 
 
 B8ttvTWRi»Tilr ihcp. cnnd T^T^f' . r^nd nCWS, gOod nefUS"!' 
 
 Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 
 
 Salae. There is more difference between thy flesh and 
 hers than between jet and ivory ; more between your 
 bloods than there is between red wine and rhenish. 
 
4:2 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IIL 
 
 But tell us, do you hear whether Antonio hare had 
 any loss at sea or no ? 39 
 
 Sht. There I have another bad match ; a bankrupt, a 
 prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Eialto ; 
 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 Christian courtesy ; let him look to 
 his bond. 
 
 Salae. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take 
 his flesh : what 's that good for ? 48 
 
 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. 
 
 PoE. 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 
 
 Nee. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be ! [^Exeunt. 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 Scene I. Venice. A street. 
 Enter Salakio and Salaeino. 
 
 Enter a Seevant. 
 Seev. 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. 
 
So. L] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 43 
 
 Enter Tubal. 
 
 Salan. Here comes another of the tribe : a third cannot 
 be matched, unless tlie devil himself turn Jew. 
 
 [Exeunt Salan., Salae., and Sbbtaitt. 
 
 Sht. How now. Tubal ! what news from Genoa ? hast 
 thou found my daughter ? 
 
 Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot 
 find her. 77 
 
 Shy. Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond gone, 
 cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort ! 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 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 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. 90 
 
 Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too : Antonio, as I 
 heard in Genoa, — 
 
 Shy. What, what, what ? ill luck, ill luck ? 
 
 Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. 
 
 Shy. I thank God, I thank God ! Is 't true, is 't 
 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. 103 
 
 Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me : I shall never see my 
 
44 rna merchant of venige [act hi. 
 
 gold again : fourscore ducats at a sitting ! fourscore 
 ducats ! 
 
 Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my com- 
 pany to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break. 
 
 Shy. I am very glad of it : I'll plague him ; I'll torture 
 him : I am glad of it. 
 
 Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had of your 
 daughter for a monkey. 
 
 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. 115 
 
 Shy. N"ay, that 's true, that 's very true. Go, Tubal, fee 
 me an officer ; bespeak him a fortnight before. 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 me at our synagogue; go, good 
 Tubal ; at our synagogue. Tubal. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScEifE II. — Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Poktia, Geatiano, Nekissa, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 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 
 
Sc. II.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 45 
 
 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 ! 0, these naughty times 
 
 Put bars between the owners and their rights ! 
 
 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 20 
 
 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 ; 
 
 Por as I am, I live upon the rack. 
 PoK. 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. 
 PoE. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack. 
 
 Where men enforced do speak any thing. 
 Bass. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. 
 PoK. Well then, confess and live. 
 Bass. " Confess," and " love," 
 
 Had been the very sum of my confession : 
 
 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 ; 
 
46 TEE MEBGHANT OF YENIOE [Act III. 
 
 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 
 
 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. 
 
Sc. n.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 47 
 
 Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselyes : 
 The world is still deceiyed 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 brow 
 "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 ! 
 
48 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IIL 
 
 PoE. [Aside.] How all the other passions fleet to air. 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair. 
 And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy ! 110 
 
 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 ? 
 
 [Opetiinff 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 imfurnish'd. Yet look, how far 
 The substance of my praise doth wrong this sha- 
 dow 
 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." 
 
Sc. II.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 49 
 
 A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave ; 
 I come by note, to give and to receive. 140 
 
 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. 
 PoE. You sgg me. Lord Bassanio, whCT^ I stand. 
 
 Such as I am : though for/myself aloiie 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 ; 
 Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
 4 
 
50 THE MERCHANT OP VENICE [Act HI. 
 
 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 : 
 0, 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 ! 
 
 Gba. 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 yon. 
 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. 300 
 
 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. 
 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 
 
Sc. II.] THE MEBGHANT OF VENICE 51 
 
 Achieved her mistress. 
 PoR. Is this true, Nerissa ? 
 
 Nek. 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 marriage. 
 Gra. But who comes here ? Lorenzo and his infidel ? 
 
 "What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio? 
 
 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, 220 
 
 My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
 
 But meeting with Salerio by the way. 
 
 He did entreat me, past all saying nay. 
 
 To come with him along. 
 Saler. I did, my lord ; 
 
 And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
 
 Commends him to you. [ Gives Bassanio a letter. 
 
 Bass. Ere I ope his letter, 
 
 I pray yon, tell me how my good friend doth. 
 Saler. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 230 
 
 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 .'' 
 
52 THE MEBOHANT OF VENICE [Act UI. 
 
 I know he will be glad of our success ; 
 
 We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 
 Saleb. 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 : 340 
 
 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 
 
 That this same paper brings you. 
 Bass. 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 250 
 
 Ean 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 yon 
 
 My state was nothing, I should then have told you 
 
 That I was worse than nothing ; for, indeed, 
 
 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, 260 
 
 And every word in it a gaping wound. 
 
 Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio ? 
 
 Have all his ventures fail'd ? What, not one hit ? 
 
 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 
 
 From Lisbon, Barbary, and India ? 
 
 And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch 
 
 Of merchant-marring rocks ? 
 Salek. Not one, my lord. 
 
 Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
 
Sc. II.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 53 
 
 The present money to discharge the Jew, 
 
 He would not take it. Never did I know 270 
 
 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, 
 
 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. 
 
 Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear 280 
 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 
 It will go hard with poor Antonio. 
 
 PoR. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble ? 
 
 Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
 The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit 
 In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 290 
 
 The ancient Eoman honour more appears 
 Than any that draws breath in Italy. 
 
 PoK. "What sum owes he the Jew ? 
 
 Bass. For me three thousand ducats. 
 
 PoR. What, no more ? 
 
 Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond ; 
 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 ; 300 
 
 For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
 With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
 
54 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act III. 
 
 To pay the petty debt twenty times over : 
 
 When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 
 
 My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 
 
 Will live as maids and widows. Come, away ! 
 
 For you shall hence upon your wedding-day : 
 
 Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer : 
 
 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 
 
 But let me hear the letter of your friend. 310 
 
 Bass. [Reads.^ "Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all mis- 
 carried, 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 be- 
 tween you and I, if I might but see you at my death. 
 Notwithstanding, use your pleasure : if your love do 
 not persuade you to come, let not my letter." 
 
 PoR. 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, 320 
 
 No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay. 
 No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. — Venice. A street. 
 Enter Shtlock, 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. 10 
 
Sc. IV.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 55 
 
 Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 
 
 Shy. I '11 have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : 
 1 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. 30 
 
 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. 
 
 Salak. 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 : 
 These 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 Bal- 
 
 THASAR. 
 
 Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence. 
 You have a noble and a true conceit 
 
56 THE MEBOHANT OP VENICE [Act IH. 
 
 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. 
 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 30 
 
 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. 
 
So. IV.] THS MERCHANT OF VENICE 57 
 
 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 
 
 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, Iferissa ; 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 gi'ace, 
 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. 
 
68 TEE MEROHANT OF VENICE [Act III. 
 
 How honourable ladies sought my love, 70 
 
 Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 
 
 I could not do withal : then I ^1 repent. 
 
 And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them ; 
 
 And twenty of these puny lies I'll 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. 
 
 Nee. Why, shall we turn to men ? 
 
 For. 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 Laukcelot and Jessica. 
 
 Lauk. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the father 
 are to be laid upon the children : therefore, 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 ? 
 
 Lauk. Marry, you may partly hope that your father got 
 you not, that you are not the Jew's daughter. 10 
 
 Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed : so the sins 
 of my mother should be visited upon me. 
 
 Lauk. Truly then I fear you are damned both by father 
 
Sc. v.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 59 
 
 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 me 
 a Christian. 
 
 Laun". Truly, the more to blame he : we were Christians 
 enow before ; e'en as many as could well live, one by an- 
 other. 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. 33 
 
 Enter Loeenzo. 
 
 Jes. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say : here 
 he comes. 
 
 LoE. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if you 
 thus get my wife into corners. 
 
 Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo : Launcelot 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. 33 
 
 LoE. 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. 
 
 La UN. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 
 
 LoE. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you ! then bid 
 them prepare dinner. 
 
 Lauk. That is done too, sir ; only " cover " is the word. 
 
 LoE. Will you cover, then, sir ? 
 
 Laun. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty. 42 
 
 LoE. Yet more quarrelling with occasion ! Wilt thou 
 show 'the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant ? I 
 pray thee, understand a plain man in his plain mean- 
 
60 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act III. 
 
 ing : go to thy fellows ; bid them cover the table, serye 
 in the meat, and we will come in to dinner. 
 
 Lauit. For the table, sir, it shall be served in ; for the 
 meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your coming in to 
 dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall 
 govern. [Exit. 
 
 Lor. dear discretion, how his words are suited ! 53 
 
 The fool hath planted in his memory 
 An army of good words ; and I do know 
 A many fools, that stand in better place, 
 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 ? 
 
 Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet 60 
 
 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. 
 "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. 
 
 LoE. Even such a husband 70 
 
 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. N"ay, let me praise you while I have a stomach. 
 
 Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk ; 
 
 Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things 
 I shall digest it. 
 
 Jes. Well, I'll set you forth. [Exeunt. 
 
Act IV.] THE MEBOIIANT OF VENICE 61 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 Scene I — Venice. A court of justice. 
 
 Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, AiifTONio, Bassanio, 
 Gratiano, Salerio, and others. 
 
 Duke. What, is Antonio here ? 
 
 Akt. Eeady, so please your Grace. 
 
 Duke. I am sorry for thee : thou art come to answer 
 
 A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
 
 Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
 
 Prom 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 sufEer, vrith a quietness of spirit. 
 
 The very tyranny and rage of his. 
 Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 
 Salee. 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 30 
 Than is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 
 And where thou now exact'st the penalty. 
 Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh. 
 
62 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IV. 
 
 Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture. 
 But, touched with human gentleness and loTS, 
 Forgiye 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 
 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 bag-pipe 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 bag-pipe ; but of force 
 Must yield to such inevitable shame 
 As to ofEend, himself being offended ; 
 
Sc. I.] THE MERGHANT OF VENICE 63 
 
 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 auswer'd ? 
 
 Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man. 
 To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 
 
 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 fretten with the gusts of heaven ; 
 You may as well do anything 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 farther means. 
 But with all brief and plain conveniency 
 Let me have judgment 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 judgment 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. 
 
64 THE MEBGEANT OF VENICE [Act IV. 
 
 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 
 
 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. 100 
 
 If you deny me, fie upon your law ! 
 
 There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
 
 I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it ? 
 
 Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court. 
 Unless Bellario, a learned doctor. 
 Whom I have sent for to determine this. 
 Come here to-day. 
 
 Salee. My lord, here stays without 
 
 A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
 New come from Padua. 
 
 Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 110 
 
 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 Nbkissa, dressed lihe a lawyer's cleric. 
 
 Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 
 
 Nek. Prom both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace. 
 
 {Presenting 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, 
 
Sc. I.] THE MERCHANT OF YENIGE 65 
 
 Thou makest thy knife keen ; but no metal can, 
 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. 
 
 Gea. 0, 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 wolfish, bloody, starved and ravenous. 
 
 Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, 
 
 Thou but ofEend'st thy lungs to speak so loud : 140 
 Eepair 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 ? 
 
 Nek. He attendeth here hard by. 
 
 To know your answer, whether you'll 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. 149 
 
 Clerk. \Reads. ] " Your Grace shall understand that at 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 Antonio the merchant : we turned o'er 
 many books together : he is furnished with my opinion ; 
 which, bettered with his own learning, — the greatness 
 5 
 
66 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IV. 
 
 whereof I cannot enough commend^, — comes with him, 
 at my importunity, to fill up your Grace's request in 
 my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no 
 impediment 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." 164 
 
 Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes : 
 And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 
 
 Enter Portia /or Balthasar. 
 
 Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario ? 
 PoR. I did, my lord. 
 Duke. You are welcome : take your place. 
 
 Are you acquainted with the difference 
 
 That holds this present question in the court ? 170 
 
 PoE. 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 ? 
 Ant. Ay, so he says. 
 
 PoR. Do you confess the bond ? 
 
 Ant. I do. 
 
 PoR. Then must the Jew be merciful. 180 
 
 Shy. Ou 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 : 
 
Sc. I.] THE MERCHANT OP' VENICE 67 
 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it hecomes 
 
 The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power. 
 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 
 "Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 190 
 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
 
 It is enthroned in the heart of kings. 
 
 It is an attribute to God himself ; 
 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
 
 When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
 
 Though justice be thy plea, consider this. 
 
 That, in the course of justice, none of us 
 
 Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 
 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 
 The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 200 
 
 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. 
 PoK. 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, 
 
 I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er. 
 
 On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart : 210 
 
 If this will not suffice, it must appear 
 
 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. 
 PoE. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 
 
 Can alter a decree established : 
 
 'Twill be recorded for a precedent. 
 
 And many an error, by the same example, 
 
 Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 220 
 
68 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IV. 
 
 Shy. a Daniel come to judgement ! yea, a Daniel ! 
 wise young judge, how I do honour thee ! 
 
 PoE. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. Here ^tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 
 
 PoE. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee. 
 
 Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven : 
 Shall I lay perjury uponmy soul ? 
 No, not for Venice. 
 
 PoE. Why, this bond is forfeit ; 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
 A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 230 
 
 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. 
 Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar. 
 Proceed to judgement : by my soul I swear 
 There is no power in the tongue of man 
 To alter me : I stay here on my bond. 240 
 
 Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
 To give the judgement. 
 
 PoE. Why then, thus it is : 
 
 You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
 
 Shy. noble judge ! excellent young man ! 
 
 PoE. 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 : wise and upright judge ! 
 How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! 
 
 PoE. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 
 
 Shy. Ay, his breast : 250 
 
 So says the bond : — doth it not, noble judge ? — 
 " Nearest his heart : " those are the very words. 
 
Sc. I.] THE MEBGHANT OF VENICE 69 
 
 PoR. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 
 
 The flesh ? 
 Shy. I haye 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 ? 
 
 'Twere good you do so much for charity. 
 Shy. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 260 
 
 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 
 
 An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
 
 Of such misery doth she cut me off. 270 
 
 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. 
 
 Kepent but you that you shall lose your friend. 
 
 And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
 
 For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
 
 I'll pay it presently with all my heart. 
 Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife 280 
 
 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. 
 
70 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IV. 
 
 If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 
 Gea. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love : 
 
 I would she were in heaven, so she could 
 
 Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 290 
 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 daughter ; 
 
 Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
 
 Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! [Aside. 
 
 We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
 PoE. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine : 
 
 The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 
 Shy. Most rightful Judge ! 
 PoR. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast : 300 
 
 The law allows it, and the court awards it. 
 Shy. Most learned judge ! A sentence ! Come, prepare ! 
 PoE. 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 
 
 Unto the state of Venice. 310 
 
 Gea. upright judge ! Mark, Jew : learned judge ! 
 Shy. Is that the law ? 
 PoR. Thyself shalt see the act : 
 
 For, as thou urgest justice, be assured 
 
 Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. 
 Gra. 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! 
 
 The Jew shall have all justice ; soft ! no haste : 
 
Sc. 1] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE Tl 
 
 He shall have nothing but the penalty. 330 
 
 Gra. Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge ! 
 PoK. 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 heary in the substance. 
 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 
 Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 
 
 But in the estimation of a hair. 
 
 Thou diest and all thy goods are conflscate. 330 
 
 Gra. a second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
 
 Now, infidel, I have you on the hip. 
 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 ! 
 
 I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 
 Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal ? 340 
 
 PoR. 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'll 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 
 
 He seek the life of any citizen. 
 
 The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 350 
 
 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 
 
72 THE MEBOHANT OF VENICE [Act IV. 
 
 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 
 
 Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd 
 
 The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 360 
 
 Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. 
 Gea. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself : 
 
 And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
 
 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 ; 
 
 The other half comes to the general state. 
 
 Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 370 
 
 PoK. 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. 
 PoB. 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 
 
 To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
 
 I am content ; so he will let me have 380 
 
 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. 
 
So. I.] TEE MERCHANT OF VENICE 73 
 
 Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 
 
 The pardon that I late pronounced here. 390 
 
 PoK. Art thou contented, Jew ? what dost thou say ? 
 Shy. I am content. 
 
 PoK. 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, 
 
 And I will sign it. 
 Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 
 
 Gka. 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. \^Exit Shy. 
 Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 
 PoK. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon : 400 
 
 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 Ms train. 
 Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
 
 Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
 
 Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof. 
 
 Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
 
 We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 410 
 
 Ant. And stand indebted, over and above. 
 
 In love and service to you evermore. 
 PoE. 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. 
 Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further : 
 
 Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 430 
 
74 THE MEROHANT OF VENICE [Act IV. 
 
 Not as a fee ; grant me two things, I pray yon, 
 
 Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 
 PoE. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 
 
 Give me your gloves. 111 wear them for your sake ; 
 
 [To AUTT. 
 
 And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you : [ To Bass. 
 
 Do not draw back your hand ; I'll take no more ; 
 
 And you in love shall not deny me this. 
 Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle ! 
 
 I will not shame myself to give you this. 
 PoR. I will have nothing else but only this ; 430 
 
 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. 
 PoK. 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. 
 Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; 
 
 And when she put it on, she made me vow 440 
 
 That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. 
 POB. 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 yon ! 
 
 [Exeunt Portia and Neeissa. 
 Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring : 
 
 Let his deservings and my love withal 
 
 Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. 
 Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; 450 
 
 Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst. 
 
 Unto Antonio's house : away ! make haste. 
 
 [Exit Gratiano. 
 
Sc. n.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 75 
 
 Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
 
 And in the morning early will we both 
 
 Ply toward Belmont : come, Antonio. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. — Tlie same. A street. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nekissa. 
 
 PoR. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed 
 And let him sign it : we'll away to-night 
 And be a day before our husbands home : 
 This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gea. 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'll see if I can get my husband's ring, 
 
 \^Aside to Portia. 
 Which I did make him swear to keep forever. 
 PoE. [^Aside to Ner.J Thou mayst, I warrant. We shall 
 have old swearing 
 That they did give the rings away to men ; 
 But we'll 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. 
 
76 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act V. 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 Scene I Belmont. Avenue to Portia's house. 
 
 Enter LoKE]srzo and Jessica. 
 
 LoE. 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. 
 
 LoK. In such a night 
 
 Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 10 
 
 Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her lore 
 To come again to Carthage. 
 
 Jes. In such a night 
 
 Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs 
 That did renew old ^Eson. 
 
 Lor. In such a night 
 
 Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, 
 And with an unthrif t 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. 
 
Sc. I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 77 
 
 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 retarn'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 Launcelot. 
 
 Laun. Sola, sola ! wo ha, ho ! sola, sola ! 
 
 Lor. Who calls ? 40 
 
 Lauk. Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo ? Master Lo- 
 renzo, sola, sola ? 
 
 Lor. Leave hollaing, man : here. 
 
 Laux. 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. 
 
78 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act V. 
 
 And yet no matter : why should we go in ? 60 
 
 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 bebold'st 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 61 
 
 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. 
 
 Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 
 
 LoK. 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 79 
 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods ; 
 
Sc. L] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 79 
 
 Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, 
 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 Neeissa. 
 
 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. 
 
 PoR. Nothing is good, I see, without respect : 
 
 Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. 100 
 
 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, 110 
 
 Or I am much deceived, of Portia. 
 
80 THE MERGHANT OF VENICE [Act V. 
 
 PoR. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, 
 
 Bj the bad voice. 
 LoK. ., Dear lady, welcome home. 
 
 PoE. We have been praying for our husbands' healths. 
 
 Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
 
 Are they returned ? 
 LoE. Madam, they are not yet ; 
 
 But there is come a messenger before. 
 
 To signify their coming. 
 PoE. Go in, Nerissa ; 
 
 Give order to my servants that they take 
 
 No note at all of our being absent hence ; 120 
 
 Nor you, LoreUzo ; Jessica, nor you. 
 
 [A tucJcet sounds. 
 LoE. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet : 
 
 We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not. 
 PoE. 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. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiako, and their fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
 
 If you would walk in absence of the sun. 
 PoE. 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. 
 PoE. 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. 
 
Sc. I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 81 
 
 PoR. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 
 
 It must appear in other ways than words, 140 
 
 Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 
 
 Gka. \_To Neeissa.] By yonder moon I swear you do me 
 wrong ; 
 In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. 
 
 PoE. A quarrel, ho, already ! what's the matter ? 
 
 Gea. 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." 
 
 Nee. What talk you of the posy or the value ? 
 
 You swore to me, when I did give it you, 150 
 
 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. 
 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. 
 
 Gea. He will, an if he live to be a man. 
 
 Nee. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 
 
 Gea. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
 
 A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, 160 
 
 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 yon. 
 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 
 Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
 I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it 170 
 
 Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
 That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
 6 
 
82 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act V. 
 
 You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief : 
 An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 
 
 Bass. l^Aside.} Why, I were best to cut my left hand off. 
 And swear I lost the ring defending it. 
 
 Gea. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
 Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 
 Deserved it too ; and then the boy, his clerk. 
 That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine ; 180 
 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, 
 I would deny it ; but you see my finger 
 Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. 
 
 PoK. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
 By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
 Until I see the ring. 
 
 Nek. Nor I in yours 
 
 Till I again see mine. 
 
 Bass. Sweet Portia, 190 
 
 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. 
 
 POE. If you had known the virtue of the ring. 
 Or half her worthiness that gave the ring. 
 Or your own honour to contain the ring. 
 You would not then have parted with the ring. 200 
 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 ? 
 
Sc. I, ] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 83 
 
 Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 
 
 I'll die for't but some womaii had the ring. 
 Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, 
 
 No woman had it, but a civil doctor. 
 
 Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me. 
 
 And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, 310 
 
 And sufEer'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 ; 
 
 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. 
 
 Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd 
 
 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 220 
 
 PoR. 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 anything I have. 
 Nee. And I his clerk ; therefore be well advised 
 
 How you do leave me to mine own protection. 
 A.'ST. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 
 PoE. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome notwith- 
 standing. 
 Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong ; 230 
 
 And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
 
 I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes. 
 
 Wherein I see myself — 
 PoK. 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 : 
 
84 THE MERCHANT OF VENIOE [Act V. 
 
 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, 240 
 
 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. 
 AnTT. Here, Lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this ring, 
 Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor ! 
 PoB. You are all amazed : 
 
 Here is a letter ; read it at your leisure ; 
 
 It comes from Padua, from Bellario : 250 
 
 There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
 
 Nerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here 
 
 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 yon shall find three of your argosies 
 
 Are richly come to harbour suddenly : 
 
 You shall not know by what strange accident 260 
 
 I chanced on this letter. 
 Ant. I am dumb. 
 
 Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you not ? 
 Gka. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold ? 
 Neb. 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. 
 
Sc. I.] THE MERCHANT OP VENICE 85 
 
 PoR. How now, Lorenzo ! 370 
 
 My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 
 
 Nee. Ay, and FU give them him without a fee. 
 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. 
 
 LoE. 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, 280 
 
 And we will answer all things faithfully. 
 
 Gra. Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing 
 
 So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeunt. 
 
NOTES 
 
 I. BiBLIOQKAPHT. 
 
 Dr. Fuhhess gives a list of books (p. 468 ff.) "from 'wliich 
 citations have been made at first hand" for his Variorum edition 
 of this play. The more important of these books, along with a 
 few others, have been mentioned in footnotes to the present In- 
 troduction and in the Notes. A wider range is presented by the 
 "Catalogue of the Works of William Shakespeare, Original and 
 Translated, in the Barton Collection " (Boston Public Library), 
 compiled by J. M. Hubbard, Boston, 1878, and by the "Cata- 
 logue of Works Relating to William Shakespeare and his Writ- 
 ings," same collection, library, and compiler, Boston, 1880. For 
 material connected with our play, which has appeared since Dr. 
 Furness made his list, see the ' ' Bibliographie " (by Albert Cohn) 
 in the German Shakespeare Jdhrbuch, xxiv, (1887-88), xxvii, 
 (1889-91), xxix-xxx (1892-93). Moreover, in Sliahesperiana 
 and in Poet Lore (see particularly W. J. Rolfe on our play, 1890, 
 Jan. fl.) ttiere have been communications of more or less value 
 about characters of the play, questions of text and interpreta- 
 tion, and even discussion of wider problems, — such as the proper 
 method of teaching. Shylock is a tempting subject ; and thus 
 one finds {Browning Society Papers for 1887-88, part x) "On 
 Browning's Jews and Shakspere's Jew," and {Academy, June 18, 
 Aug. 6, 1887) "Shylock and his Predecessors"; while in the 
 Jahrluch, touching the endless legal discussion, one will find 
 "Zur Shylockfabel" by J. Bolte, xxvii, 225 fl.; and "Shake- 
 speare als Rechtsphilosoph " (in our play as well as in "Measure 
 for Measure "), xxviii, 54 fi. G. H. Radford's little book, " Shy- 
 lock and Others," London, 1894, is disappointing after the clever 
 skit about Falstaff which the author had previously published 
 along with certain essays of Mr. Birrell. 
 
 For his own preparation — "a man's reach," says Browning, 
 
NOTES 87 
 
 " should exceed his grasp " — the teacher may read all the good 
 things written about and upon our play ; but the scholar needs 
 spare diet of this sort. " Very little meat and a great deal of 
 table-cloth " will be his comment in after-life, when he thinks of 
 ceaseless consultation of books. A safe rule for him, it would 
 seem, is to read whatever throws light upon the meaning of the 
 play, — on words, sentences, allusions, figures of speech, customs, 
 habits of thought, points of view, — and to avoid the interminable 
 discussion of character, motive, and psychological problems gen- 
 erally. A little honest study of Galenical medicine, of Ptole- 
 maic astronomy, wliich will teach him how to understand the 
 play, is of more value thau volumes of rant about Shakspere's 
 genius. Passages of the play itself, appreciated in every word, 
 every turn of phrase, every cadence, and safely committed to 
 memory, are worth a library of subtle "interpretation," a wilder- 
 ness of phrases about Shakspere's " art." It would hardly be un- 
 fair to apply to Shakspere himself and certain of his cloudy inter- 
 preters what Goethe said about poetry and poets : 
 
 Wer trelbt die Dichtkunst aus der Welt ? — 
 Die Poeten ! 
 
 II. The Language of the Plat. 
 
 Chaucer wrote in his native speech, the speech of London, or, 
 in wider scope, the Midland dialect, and lie made it the literary 
 language of England, that " Standard English " which has held 
 its own down to our time. It is interesting to note that the chief 
 rival of this Standard English, the Northern or Scottish dialect, 
 which made such important claims for recognition in tlie work of 
 Barbour, Dunbar, and Lyndesay, lost its independence in Shak- 
 spere's day through the union of Scotland and England under 
 James I. Englishmen under Elizabeth began to recognize that 
 Loudon English was the literary language: see the often quoted 
 passage from Puttenham's "Arte of English Poesie " (1589), 
 chapter "Of Language" (Arber's reprint, p. 156 ff.); they dis- 
 cussed the vexatious problems of new words, and felt a vivid in- 
 terest in all questions of language : think, for example, of Ben Jon- 
 son's "Grammar," of Gill's "Logonomia Anglica" (1619), and 
 other works of the kind. In brief, Shakspere had the advantage 
 
88 MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 of a speech fixed to the degree of stability but not of inflexibility. 
 Hence, in great measure, the variety and richness of his vocabu- 
 lary. He uses, as is well known, more words than any other 
 English writer of prominence, notwithstanding his works show 
 fewer foreign words than any piece of our literature except the 
 English Bible. Kluge {Jdhrbueh, xxviii, 1 ff.) credits him with 
 20,000 words, — althougli the older estimate was content with 
 15,000; and he attains this number in spite of the fact that he 
 "avoids provincialisms and archaisms." These are significant 
 facts; and one may add for comparison Kluge's estimate of 9,000 
 words for the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey," 8,000 for Milton, 700 
 for an ordinary opera libretto, and about 3,000 for the talk of an 
 educated man. Yet Shakspere invented no words, and like 
 Luther, remarks Kluge, took what he needed from the speech of 
 house, street, and field. When he uses a word from the Latin, 
 there are good reasons for his choice: see Lowell's defence of 
 such words as "incarnadine" in " Shakspere Once More," in the 
 collection of essays called "Among My Books." 
 
 Particular questions must be left to the Notes ; in general, a 
 student should strive to look at Shakspere's language not merely 
 as matter of detail, but as a poetical dialect, a speech in itself. 
 He should acquire as far as possible a feeling for this language as 
 a whole. What certain critics condemn in the linguistic study of 
 Shakspere is mainly a pedantry, a pettiness of the teacher — or 
 editor — -who thinks these words and constructions proper puzzles 
 for the learner as an end in themselves. Regard them as helps 
 in learning Shakspere's speech, and the criticism falls. — The 
 Variorum edition of the "Merchant of Venice" contains the 
 flower of grammatical as well as of other notes. For general 
 reference, the teacher will turn constantly to a good dictionary, 
 — Skeat's for etymology, the ' ' Century " or Murray's for histories 
 of words, and, for older stages of the language, G-rein's ' ' Sprach- 
 schatz," Stratmann's "Old English Dictionary,'' and the un- 
 finished but valuable Glossary of Matzner's " Altenglische 
 Sprachproben"; to a good grammar, — Abbott's " Shakespearian 
 Grammar," and the "Grammatical Observations" in Schmidt's 
 excellent Appendix to the "Lexicon," for special cases, and, for 
 wider questions, Koch's ' ' Historische Grammatik der Englischen 
 Sprache," Matzner's "English Grammar," 3 vols., translated by 
 
NOTES 89 
 
 C. J. Grece, and Sweet's handy little "Short Historical English 
 Grammar." There is a special study of the language of this 
 play by Dr. Karl Meurer, "Der Sprachgebrauch in Shakspere's 
 Merchant of Venice, " from which some facts have been taken for 
 the following notes. 
 
 In regard to the pronunciation of Shakspere's English, a few 
 hints must suffice ; the teacher wlio is curious in this matter may 
 consult th3 "Early English Pronunciation" of Mr. A. J. Ellis, 
 the more systematic work of Dr. Sweet on the " History of Eng- 
 lish Sounds," or the "Phonology" in his just-mentioned " Short 
 Historical English Gtrammar." It is well known that when Eng- 
 lish sounds changed, the symbols, for the most part, remained 
 unaltered, or else were inadequately altered: cf. Anglo-Saxon 
 ridan, modern English ride (the vowel has become diphthong, 
 but the "letter" is the same), with Old High German ritan, 
 modern German reiten, where the symbol has changed with the 
 sound. Hence, for example, the isolated character of English 
 long vowels compared with those of other languages. 
 
 About 1600, English sounds were changing character, and ap- 
 proaching the modern standard. In reading Chaucer, one must 
 pronounce the words as Chaucer pronounced them, with the re- 
 sult that one seems to be reading a foreign tongue ; if one should 
 modernize outright, chaos would come into the metre and the 
 rimes, while modern pronunciation, joined to a nice observance 
 of the final e, would make worse than chaos. Hence one reads 
 Chaucer in Chaucerian English. But there is no difficulty of that 
 sort in the way of reading Shakspere as a modern writer. Mod- 
 ern he is, to all intents and purposes; and while here and there a 
 word may have lost sonorousness by change of sound, the differ- 
 ence is trifling. As a mere matter of antiquarian interest, there- 
 fore, the teacher might explain to his class the scheme of A. J. 
 Ellis for reading a part of Portia's famous speech in its probable 
 original sounds: see this speech in Ellis's "Early English Pro- 
 nunciation," p. 986, with x-emarks on the various sounds, begin- 
 ning at p. 973 ff. Cf. also Sweet, "Short Historical Grammar," 
 p. 58 ff. The striking differences are in the sounds of the vowels, 
 and in such consonants as (h) gh, now vocalized, but then prob- 
 ably sounded somewhat like German ch. It is possible that the i 
 in knave and the w in iDrite were still sounded. 
 
90 MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 In regard to the style of Shakspere's plays, we may take to 
 heart sc ne excellent remarks by ten Brink, — a man who combined 
 delicacy of critical judgment and admirable insight in the article 
 of poetry with accuracy and method as a master in English 
 philology. " By Shakspere's style I mean, in the widest sense, 
 the form in which he expresses what he has to say, — the com- 
 position of his works and the structure of his scenes, as well 
 as his utterance in detail, his language in its vivid and plas- 
 tic qualities, the melodious flow and dramatic movement of his 
 verse. If one were to attempt with a word to characterize the 
 style of Sliakspere, one might call it Complete, Immediate, In- 
 evitable. Shakspere's spiritual vision is at once widely compre- 
 hensive and extremely sharp, discerning all the particulars of a 
 given group, seeing things never on the flat surface, but always 
 as complete and moulded figures, — and looking them through 
 and through. He has the marvellous faculty of seeing at the same 
 time, and of reproducing in mental process, his chief subject and 
 all that belongs to it. Whatever he sees, he will and must ex- 
 press ; and his expression is more apt to exceed than to fall 
 short. Moreover, ho is wont to draw the plans of his work with 
 a sure hand and after careful reflection; for details, however, 
 he trusts to tlie inspiration of the moment. Haply the right 
 word is not at liis call, and ho must wrestle witli the spirit of 
 the language as Jacob with the Lord. ... In such cases, 
 when a word or image which he has used is not what is needed, 
 and he adds another, he does not erase the first, but leaves it, 
 and lets himself be borne along by the stream of thought. . . . 
 So in ' Macbeth ' : 
 
 The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood 
 Is stopp'd ; the very source of it is stopp'd." 
 
 The development of Sliakspere's style, however, ten Brink 
 goes on to say, is not a steady progress to artistic perfection. 
 The earliest works show an undue preponderance of delight in 
 sensuous form at the expense of intellectual vigor; gradually 
 the poet reaches, say in liis middle period, the height of artistic 
 success ; form and thought hold exquisite balance. Thence 
 down to his latest works, form loses ground, and the thought, 
 gaining in weight and speed, outstrips the beauty and fitness 
 
NOTES 91 
 
 of expression. As regards the four periods, then, of Shakspere's 
 dramatic career, ten Brink thinlfs the diction of thft, first 
 " lyric " in character ; of the second, particularly in tlie histories, 
 "rhetorical" ; of the tliird, in the great tragedies, "dramatic 
 and compressed," and of the fourth, in the romances, con- 
 densed, fragmentary, even now and then confused and obscure. 
 — See ten Brink, "Shakspere," pp. 42 fE., 64. 
 
 ni. The Metre. 
 
 Shakspere wrote chiefly in rimeless flve-stress verse of the so- 
 called "iambic" movement; but "rimeless" is true, strictly 
 taken, only of his latest plays, not of tlie earlier, and the strict 
 iambic scheme, except in the final measure, is frequently broken. 
 In the "Winter's Tale" there is no rimed verse, and in the 
 "Tempest" there is but one riming couplet. In "Love's 
 Labour's Lost," a veiy early play, there are more than one thou- 
 sand riming verses. ' ' Julius Caesar, " a play of the middle period, 
 has 3,341 lines of blank verse to 34 rimed verses. See, for 
 these and kindred facts, Fleay's table. Transactions New Shakspere 
 Society, i, 16. We have already noted the increasing freedom 
 from metrical j-estraint which marks Sliakspere's passage from 
 early plays to late. Better is ten Brink's statement (" Shak- 
 spere," p. 44) that in the early plays rhythm lies on the surface ; 
 in the later plays it is below {in der Tiefe). Shakspere grew 
 more and more impatient of the verse as a unit, a boundary, and 
 showed an inci-easing love for irregular rhythmic periods which 
 do not coincide with tlie verses, but stretch from one csesura to 
 another: see Conrad, "Metrische Untersuchungen," Jalirbuch, 
 xxxi, 334. In other words, "end-stopt" verses abound in the 
 earlier plays, unstopt in the later. In "Love's Labour's Lost " the 
 proportion of unstopt to end-stopt is 1: 18.14 ; in the " Winter's 
 Tale," 1:3.13. Moreover, light endings and double endings 
 abound in these later plays, and, of course, tend to obliterate 
 the verse-limits and give a freedom as of prose. Finally, the 
 later verse is rougher, more hurried, and more irregular. Now, 
 the "Merchant of Venice" is of the early middle period, and 
 offers few of these peculiarities just noted ; but it has a freedom 
 of movement distinctly superior to the extreme smoothness of 
 
92 MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 the first efforts, and thus forms an excellent introduction to Shak- 
 spere's verse. 
 
 A few remarks are in order concerning Shaksperian verse in 
 general. In the first place, rnle-of-thumb scansion is to be 
 banned ; the verse, not the foot, is the metrical unit, and a verse 
 unsatisfactory as to its parts will often be found perfect as a 
 whole. It is rhythm, a flowing, a movement, which gives the note 
 of verse; and few individual lines represent perfectly the metrical 
 type. Secondly, when a verse shows conflict between the metri- 
 cal scheme and the natural accent of the words, we have to in- 
 quire whether the words in question ought not to be (a) expanded 
 (lis the -ion, -ean of so many words : cf. I, i, 8, and III, iv, 28 ; 
 see also hair. III, ii, 298 ; prayers, IV, i, 126 ; command(e)ment, 
 IV, i, 449), or (b) contracted (as — perhaps — converted in III, ii, 
 168 ; you had, III, ii, 238), and whether we should throw the 
 accent (c) towards the beginning {obscure, II, vii, 51) or (d) 
 towards the end {obdurate, IV, i, 8) of the word. Certain con- 
 siderations, however, must modify these inquiries. In regard to 
 (a), we have to consider the pause in a verse, — a pause which 
 often takes the place of a syllable, especially of a light syllable 
 after an emphatic accent. Dowden speaks of this pause "ex- 
 pressing surprise or sudden emotion, or accompanying a change 
 of speakers, and leaving a gap in the verse, — a gap through 
 which we feel the wind of passion and of song." As to (b), the 
 student must remember that slurring, — rapid pronunciation rather 
 than contraction, — is often in question, or even the outright 
 measure of three syllables : see a list of " Trisyllabic Measures " in 
 Ellis, "Early English Pronunciation," (iii) p. 941 ff., as well as 
 the question of slurring or pronouncing the syllables, discussed 
 by Mayor, " Chapters on Metre," p. 158 ff. ; and for (c) and (d) 
 we have the undoubted and important fact of " hovering accent." 
 This schwebende Betonung, as the Germans call it, is admii'ably 
 treated by ten Brink for Chaucerian verse . " Chancers Spraclie 
 und Verskunst," p. 155 S. See also Schipper, " Englische 
 Metrik," ii, 38 S. Thus in II, vii, 51 : 
 
 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave, 
 
 or in IV, i, 296 : 
 
 We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence, 
 
NOTES 93 
 
 one need not pronouuce obscure, pursue, but must suspend the 
 accent, strike a balance between the demands of the verse and 
 tlie demands of the word, — dhaeAre, pursue. Again, hovering 
 accent will help even such a verse as IV, i, 270: 
 
 Cffsuch misery doth she cut me ofi. 
 
 The question of Alexandrines, — verses with six measures, — is 
 not particularly important for our play; but it may be remarked 
 that Abbott, who as a general thing forces Shaksperian verse too 
 much into a rigid scheme, is at fault in his prevailing hostility to 
 the Alexandrine : see Ellis, " E. E. P.," p . 943 fiE. Where a verse 
 is divided between two speakers, each part has frequently three 
 accents, making the whole verse an Alexandrine. It is a ques- 
 tion whether we are to read III, ii, 345 : 
 
 And I most freely liave tlie half of anything, 
 
 as Alexandrine, or as a triple ending. 
 
 Other questions relating to metre will be treated in the follow- 
 ing notes ; but the teacher will find opportunity to discuss with 
 his class, from time to time, such points as the relation borne by 
 the metre of a given passage to the mood of the speaker (see 
 Mayor, " Chapters on Metre," p. 175 ff.), the place of the verse- 
 pause, and the use of prose (as in I, iii), of rime, and of allitera- 
 tion. He will find the "Notes on Shakspere's "Versification," by 
 George H. Browne, A.M., Boston, 1884, with its blank leaves for 
 private notes, an excellent help in any metrical analysis of the 
 play. 
 
 In his "Metrische Untersuclmngen " {Shakespeare Jahrtuch, 
 xxxi, 318 fE.) H. Conrad takes a representative play from each 
 of the four "periods" of Shakspere's dramatic activity, — the 
 "Comedy of Errors," the "Merchant of Venice," "Henry V.," 
 and "Macbeth," assuming, for our play, 1595 as date of com- 
 position. From this article some useful tables may be quoted by 
 way of comparing our play with "Macbeth." It is well known 
 that every line of Shakspere's verse does not contain exactly five 
 riietorically accented syllables. There may be only two (though 
 this slightly forces the facts) : 
 
 This snpern&tural soliciting (" Macbeth "), 
 
94 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 or there may be seven (?) : — 
 
 That wMch hatli made thiin drflnk hath made m^ b61d (" Macbeth"). 
 
 Conrad's table of accents in each verse of the two plays gives 
 these percentages : — 
 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 *' Merchant " 
 
 2.9 
 2.5 
 
 33.4 
 25.7 
 
 48.5 
 47.7 
 
 15.6 
 22.7 
 
 0.7 
 
 
 "Macbeth" 
 
 0.2 
 
 
 
 In proportion to 1,000 regular lines, Conrad counts: — 
 
 
 "Merchant." 
 
 "Macbeth." 
 
 
 2 
 14 
 12 
 
 
 
 Alexandrines 
 
 29 
 
 
 2S 
 
 
 
 As regards the regularity of the verse, — the adherence to a 
 strict "iambic" scheme, — Conrad counts as follows, noting that 
 a spondaic measure (-i. ^ for w i) is not counted as irregular: — 
 
 'Merchant' 
 ' Macbeth ". 
 
 Absolutely 
 regular. 
 
 10.2 
 
 Absolutely 
 irregular. 
 
 5.4 
 10. 
 
 Blank 
 verse. 
 
 94.2 
 94.1 
 
 Bimed. 
 
 6.2 
 5.4 
 
 Run-on verses, in percentages, with character oJ 
 
 endings: — 
 
 
 Total. 
 
 Light. 
 
 Heavy. 
 
 
 18.6 
 24.8 
 6.2 
 
 18. 
 
 23.4 
 
 6. 
 
 0.6 
 1.4 
 0.2 
 
 " Macbeth " 
 
 " Comedy of Errors " 
 
 With regard to double or feminine endings, Conrad counts 15.3 
 per cent, for our play, 35.6 for "Macbeth." As to the csesura, 
 or pause, he notes (p. 346) that in the progress of Shakspere's 
 plays, as we assume the chronological sequence, this pause moves 
 
NOTES 
 
 93 
 
 steadily from the beginning towards the end of the verse. Counting 
 according to their position after a given syllable of the verse, the 
 table of pauses runs thus : — 
 
 
 1-3 
 
 4-6 
 
 6-9 
 
 
 
 15. 
 10.9 
 5.6 
 
 52.6 
 
 52. 
 
 38. 
 
 89.5 
 33.9 
 
 52.r 
 
 
 ''Merchant*' 
 
 
 "Macbeth" 
 
 
 
 
 That is to say, with the increase of run-on verse, the caesura 
 naturally moves towards the end of the line. 
 
 IV. Duration of the Action. 
 
 The careful reader of this play can hardly fail to notice that 
 the lines of the plot call for an extent of time which seems im- 
 possible when regarded from the point of view imposed by the 
 admirable dramatic action. If three months must pass between 
 the making of the bond and the trial, there is an intolerable 
 weight hung upon what ought to be the swift and triumphant 
 courtship of Bassanio. True, the splendid art of Shakspere 
 keeps us from dwelling on this discrepancy, or even from 
 thinking of it; but it exists, and how shall we explain it ? An 
 ingenious theory of Professor Wilson, assuming that Shakspere 
 uses "two different computations of time, by one of which time 
 is protracted and by the other contracted," is well described by 
 Dr. Furness in the Variorum "Othello," p. 358 ff. "It is as 
 though the hour-hand pointed to historic time, while the minute- 
 hand, recording fresh sensations with every swing of the pendu- 
 lum, tells dramatic time. While the former has traveled from 
 one figure to another, the latter has traversed the whole twelve, 
 aud is tiTie to the hour when the hammer falls." In his Variorum 
 edition (p. 338 ff.) Dr. Furness applies this theory to our play. 
 
 Whatever Shakspere intended, — and it may be doubted that 
 he deliberately worked out any scheme of this sort, — his artistic 
 skill is irresistible, and that discrepancy of historic and dramatic 
 time has no effect upon the general unity of the action and the 
 impression of great probability left on the reader's mind. Per- 
 haps it is best to apply to this point what many commentators 
 
96 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 — ^particularly Professor Wendell — have remarked upon the in- 
 herent absurdity of plot, action, and circumstances in the 
 "Merchant of Venice" as a whole, — absurdity that seizes one 
 the moment one looks at the material separated from the art. 
 This Jew and his bond are absurd, Bassanio's plan is prepos- 
 terous, the trial-scene is inconceivable by any test of common 
 sense, — and so on. But when we have read the play "we have 
 not only been asked to accept this nonsense; we have unhesitat- 
 ingly accepted it. Shakspere's art has made it plausible " (Wen- 
 dell, "Shakspere," p. 145). Surely we may let the artist play 
 his game with time as well as with place and circumstance. 
 
 V. Explanatory and Critical Notes. 
 
 - The student would do well to follow Dr. Furnivall's hint, and 
 read the "Two Gentlemen of Verona" and then " Othello," in 
 order to compare the playwright's earliest and latest treatment 
 of an Italian theme. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 The quartos indicate neither act nor scene. The first folio 
 divided the play into acts, but not into scenes. As to Venice, 
 and Shakspere's point of view, one must remember that Venice 
 to the Londoner then would be in some respects what London is 
 to the Venetian of to-day. 
 
 . 1. Bad. See Dowden, " New Studies in Literature, " p. 95, — 
 " Essay on Donne " : "We talk of melancholy as a disease of the 
 nineteenth century, but . . . Donne, in one of his sermons, 
 speaks of the peculiar liability of men in his own time to ' an ex- 
 traordinary sadness, a predominant melancholy, a faintness of 
 heart, a cheerlessness, a joylessness of spirit.' " Despite objec- 
 tions urged by Dr. Furness against the Clarendon ("The Mer- 
 chant of Venice,'' edited for the Clarendon Press by Clark and 
 Wright) note, it seems best not only to accept this sadness as 
 Antonio's "humour" — in the Elizabethan sense — but to regard 
 it as a proper point of departure according to Shakspere's idea of 
 a comedy (see ten Brink, " Shakspere," p. Ill), which must be- 
 
Sc. I.] NOTUS gf 
 
 gin in a more or less "painful" fashion and end in general 
 pleasure. Shakspere, however, breaks conventional bonds of 
 this sort as soon as they touch a character, and he makes An- 
 tonio's sadness a consistent part of his temperament. Nor does 
 he spoil tragic unity by any such forced antithesis as some critics 
 liave supposed. One thinks of Hamlet's "all's ill about my 
 heart," which suits Hamlet precisely as the light-heartedness of 
 Romeo suits the latter. 
 
 5. Abbott (§ 405) supplies "under necessity." Perhaps learn 
 here =: "teach " : "I am yet to be taught." For these unfinished 
 lines, see Abbott, § 511. 
 
 6. Want-wit = idiot (Schmidt). 
 
 8. Ocean, trisyllabic. Note the imitative quality of the 
 rhythm, and cf. Milton, "Nativity Hymn," 66: 
 
 Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, 
 
 and Marlowe, "Hero and Leander": 
 
 To sound forth mnsic to the ocean, 
 
 where in both cases the rime is with "began." See v, 102, as 
 compared with v, 91 ; H, i, 1, and many other cases. 
 
 9. Argosies = "large merchantmen" (Sclimidt). 
 
 11. Pageants. The pageant was originally the platform or 
 stage drawn about the streets and used for the miracle plays, — a 
 huge afEair, often with upper and lower story. (See Ward, " Eng. 
 Dram. Lit.," i, 33 ff.) Our "floats" in parades have been sug- 
 gested as a modern instance. Perhaps, as Clarendon suggests, 
 Shakspere " had in his mind the gay barges used in tlie pag- 
 eants on the Thames." Of course, the show itself was called 
 by the name of the vehicle ; but Shakspere used the word in 
 its primitive sense. 
 
 16. A "run-on" line. 
 
 17. Still — always, constantly. Cf. Ben Jonson's 
 
 Still to be neat, still to be drest . . . 
 
 19. JfcatZs = where ships ride at anchor, a haven. Qf. Hampton 
 Roads. 
 
 23. Cooling. Note the accent after a pause, where word- 
 accent oveiTides verse-accent. See Abbott, § 453 (8). 
 
98 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 23. Schmidt explains: " Would blow an ague to me.'' Me = 
 dative. 
 
 27. Andrew. The name of the ship, of course ; possibly, as 
 some commentators think, named after the Italian admiral, 
 Andrew Doria. 
 
 Doctd. The quartos and the folio have docks. Variorum 
 calls attention to the ease with which « and d could be confused. 
 Hence Rowe's emendation is probably correct. 
 
 28. Vailing, letting down, lowering, with the connotation of 
 yielding or acknowledging a superior; so Marlowe, "Edward 
 II.," I, ii, 19: "For vailing of his bonnet" = doffing hat, and 
 (iv, 276) : " Make him vail the top-flag of his pride." 
 
 29. Burial = burial-place. 
 
 35 ff. Possibly a line is lost; but the sense is plain enough. 
 
 36. Thought. Though not necessary, it is possible that 
 " thought " has here the meaning of "anxiety," as in " Take no 
 thought for the morrow," so that we should understand : " Shall 
 I have this anxiety in thinking ? " etc. Sucli playing with words 
 — "have the thought," "lack the thought" — was a fashion of 
 Shakspere's time. See 47 ff. 
 
 42. Bottom, a ship. Of. "bottomry" in law, and see Drayton, 
 " Battle of Agincourt," quoted by Richardson: 
 
 From Holland, Flanders and from Zealand won 
 
 By weekly pay, three-score twelve bottoms came. 
 From fifty upward to five hundred ton . . . 
 
 50. An Alexandrine, or verse of six measures. 
 
 53 flf. That is, laugh all the time, so that their eyes are con- 
 tinually half-shut ; and laugh at anything, — a bagpiper, or what 
 not. The -er in bagpiper has a stress not entirely relieved by 
 hovering accent and by the preceding two heavy syllables. 
 To use these syllables in rimed verse is a fashion revived by 
 modem poets. We find it in Keats (sped : garlanded), and very 
 often in Swinburne and Rossetti. Chaucer rimes heavier inflec- 
 tional syllables like -ing (wedding: home-coming). In Chapman's 
 continuation of Marlowe's "Hero and Leander" there is a re- 
 markable case of " wrenched accent," — the line is perhaps 
 (seised?) an Alexandrine: — 
 
 . For his return, be all love's goods did show. 
 In Hero eHs'dfor Aim, in him for Hero,— 
 
8c. I.] NOTES 99 
 
 which is more than matched by tlie Leander : her of the Sixth 
 Sestiad. But Chapman is often as rough as Donne, and sins 
 against Puttenham's law that " the good maker [poet] will not 
 wrench his word to helpe his rime." 
 
 54. Other = others. See Abbott, § 12. — Delias remarks that 
 two-headed in the oath anticipates the two classes. 
 
 Aspect, undoubtedly pronounced aspect (cf. Milton, "P. L.," 
 ii, 301). Abbott (§ 490) gives a list of such words; but the 
 undoubted cases have beguiled editors and commentators into 
 changing the accent whenever the metre seems to require it. 
 Shakspere has complete and complete, and Schmidt ("Lexicon," p. 
 1413 £E.) gives a valuable list of such words, with an attempt to 
 define a difference in the use of each word according to the 
 accent. But often it is not necessary to assume shifted accent. 
 In "Hamlet," III, ii, 65 : 
 
 No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, 
 
 an intelligent reading of the verse does not require us to accent 
 <£ft»Mr<?, but rather to use hovering accent: dbsurd. All our words 
 of Germanic origin have the so-called "logical accent," that is, 
 a stress on tlie root-syllable, as distinguished from the grammati- 
 cal and rhythmical accent of Greek and Latin. Words of French 
 origin in Chaucer seem to hesitate between the original accent and 
 one conformed to English usage, but the final tendency in dissyl- 
 labic words of the sort was to throw the accent to the first syllable, 
 which (though it might be a prefix) seemed to pass for the 
 root-syllable. So (iu Chaucer) goddesse and goddesse, and many 
 more of the sort. Moreovei', the great law of Germanic rhythm 
 ordains that the verse-accent and the word-accent shall coincide. 
 Wrenched accent is characteristic of early stages of a given 
 metrical system (as in Surrey's blank verse as well as his rhymed 
 iambic pentameters) ; hovering accent is common with Shak- 
 spere and with Milton. Cf. the letter's 
 
 Universal reproach, far worse to bear, 
 
 as well as the license of transposed accents, most common in the 
 first measure of a verse and after the pause. To sum up, hover- 
 
100 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 ing accent is generally to be preferred to shifted accent. In I, 
 i, 131, and II, vii, 51 :— 
 
 That you today promised to tell me of, — 
 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave,— 
 
 we read not promised, "bwi promised ; not obscure, but obseO/re. So 
 Milton, "P. L,,"ii, 310; iii, 564; " Comus," 449:— 
 
 Our supreme foe in time may much remit. — 
 Through the pure marble air his oblique way. — 
 Wherewith she freez'd her foes to congealed etone. 
 
 Aspect, however, is a clear case, and so is revenue in "Ham- 
 let," III, ii, 63:— 
 
 That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, 
 
 with many others. But the student should always bear in mind 
 (a) the freedom of* transposed accents, a relief from monotony 
 which occurs constantly, and (b) this "hovering accent." 
 55. In way = in the way. See Abbott, § 89. 
 
 58. A device to help identification of Bassanio by the specta- 
 tors. Note that he is Antonio's kinsman. 
 
 59. Abbott (§ 469) gives but one accent to Antonio, thus foi-c- 
 ing the verse into the usual scheme. 
 
 61. Prevented, anticipated, as in the Bible. Words derived 
 from the Latin are nearly always used by Elizabethan writers in 
 a sense closer to the Latin than the modern meaning. Such are 
 Herrick's candor of the teeth, the famous passage about elephants 
 endorsed with towers, and countless Latinisms of Sir Thomas 
 Browne: e. g., "to conclude in a moist relentment," — said of 
 bodies buried instead of burned. For Shakspere's Latin, see 
 Elze, "W. Shakespeare," p. 370 ff. For actual foreign words 
 and phrases found in the play, see Schmidt's Appendix to tlie 
 "Lexicon." 
 
 63 flE. Professor Moulton thinks this is said "with blunt plain- 
 ness, as if Salarino were not worth the trouble of keeping up 
 polite Action." 
 
 67. " We see little of you. jlfasi you go ? " 
 
 74. Respect upon = consideration for. Abbott (§ 191) consid- 
 ers that the literal meaning of respect (= looking at) influences 
 the choice of a preposition. 
 
 78. Q. 1 has (»ie instead of »ia?i. 
 
Sc. I.] NOTES 101 
 
 79. A sad one. We cannot agree with Variorum that sad here 
 means simply "grave," as in "sad ostent," II, ii, 205. See I, i, 
 1, note; and the " mortifying groans ''just below, which, antitlie- 
 sis to Gratiano's merry way of life, indicate Antonio's constitu- 
 tional melancholy. 
 
 79. Fool. A familiar character in the old comedies, remarks 
 Warburton. Thus in "The Longer Thou Livest the More Fool 
 Thou Art" (about 1575) "here entereth Moros, counterfaitiug a 
 vaine gesture and a foolish countenance, synging the foote [i. e., 
 bui'den] of many songes, asfooles were wont.'''' 
 
 80. Old — i. e., wrinkles that shall not come until extreme old 
 age, and come tlien only from laughing. Old, = " of age." See 
 Schmidt (p. 1414) on "Adjectives doing the office of the first 
 part of compound nouns"; and cf. old woes ("Lucrece," 1096) 
 = "woes of old age." 
 
 82. Mortifying = causing death. See above note to 1. 61. — To 
 cool = to be depressed, to weaken. Cf. the antithetical phrase: 
 "It warms my heart," — revives me. Mental iniiuence upon the 
 body is here correctly set forth, and Rolfe notes that the only 
 other mention of jaundice in Shakspere ("Troilus," I, iii, 2) 
 makes the cause a mental one. 
 
 90 S. "Maintain an obstinate silence so as to get the reputa- 
 tion (opinion) of wisdom." 
 
 92. Conceit = mental faculty (Schmidt). Cf. concept. 
 
 93. The folios read "sir an Oracle," which finds great praise 
 from R. G. White. But Sir Oracle is like Sir Prudence ("Tem- 
 pest," II, i, 286), Sir Smile ("Winter's Tale," I, ii, 196), Sir 
 Valour ("Troilus," I, iii, 176), and seems natural enough for 
 Gratiano's purpose. — As w^ = French " comme qui dirait " 
 (Clarendon). See Abbott, § 257. 
 
 98. Would = they would: "Ellipsis of Nominative," Abbott, 
 §399. See " S. Matthew," v, 22. It is this style which M. 
 Arnold blamed in his comments on " Macbeth," I, vii, 63 £E., in 
 the " Essay on Translating Homer." 
 
 101. Melancholy— tha-t is, the "wilful stillness," the sadness 
 and silence — is a bait which catches only a facile reputation — 
 the foolish gudgeon. In Shakspere 's natural history this fish 
 matches the woodcock among birds. Probably melancholy = of 
 melancholy : see above, note to 1. 80. 
 
103 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 108. Moe = more : Anglo-Saxon md. Northern form (in "Fair 
 Janet ") = mae. Cliaucer has both wordea mo and wordes more. 
 
 110. Oear, a wide word, like "thing.'' See "Sir Andrew 
 Barton"; Child, "Ballads," viii, 505: "I like not of this 
 geare," and " For howe soe ever this geare doth goe." 
 
 Ill fE. Abbott (? 490) scans : 
 
 Thanks f&ith, | for silence | is 6nly | command | abJfi 
 In a neat's | tongue dri^d | and a m£id | not v€nd | iblS. 
 
 But we can hardly force these lines into the regular scheme of 
 the blank verse. Rhythm as well as rime breaks away from us. 
 Mr. Gosse has wrongly asserted that triple measure is practically 
 unknown in verse of this period (" Shakspere to Pope," pp. 9, 
 160, Am. ed.). The couplet is rather in rough anapestic verse of 
 four accents, a modification of tlie "tumbling" variety dis- 
 credited by Puttenhani. 
 
 113. Rowe's sensible emendation from the original It is that 
 any thing now. 
 
 124. Port =• bearing, carriage. Som,ething =^ somevihaX. 
 
 136. To ie abridged; i. e., curtailed. Abbott (§ 356) gives a 
 good list of similar cases in Shakspere where to retains its old 
 force as a preposition used with the dative case of the infinitive ; 
 here one may paraphrase by "with regard to" or the like. 
 Cf. 1. 154 below, and IV, i, 439 : " I will not shame myself to give 
 you this." A good list of Anglo-Saxon infinitive-dative forms 
 with to can be found in Grein's " Sprachschatz," ii, 541 fE. For 
 infinitive without to, see I, iii, 168. 
 
 129. Time. Cf. "Hamlet," I, ii, 63 : "Take thy fair hour, 
 Laertes." 
 
 130. Oaged = pledged. 
 
 133. Warranty. A number of Germanic words, such as ward, 
 wise, warrant, passing into French, and again into English, were 
 changed to corresponding forms with the initial g: guard, 
 guise, guarantee or guaranty. Hence the doublets, usually with 
 some differentiation of meaning. 
 
 186. Still = always. See 1. 17 above. 
 
 141. His =zits. Abbott, §228: "Its" came into use about 1600, 
 but "is not in the authorized version of the Bible." Plight = 
 range. 
 
Sc. I.] NOTES 103 
 
 143. Advised, considered. Cf. IV, ii, 6. 
 
 143. Forth = out. See other cases in Schmidt (3). — The line 
 has six accents, but is rhythmical, and needs no "treatment," — 
 such as Abbott's (§ 466) the other forth as one " foot," with other 
 not only slurred into oV, but unaccented. 
 
 144. The greater flexibility of English in Shakspere's time 
 allowed nouns to be used as adjectives {childhood = childish) and 
 verbs (" loy her greatness "). See Abbott, §§ 32, 430. 
 
 145. Pare innocence. Variorum suggests " foolishness," which 
 cannot be far out of the way. Bassanio is not too proud of his 
 scheme. 
 
 148. Self = same. 
 
 154. To wind. See note, above, to 1, 136. 
 
 161. Prest — ready. 
 
 163. Belmont. See passage from "II Pecorone, " Introd., p. 
 xxxiv. 
 
 164. Sometimes = sometime, formerly. Abbott, § 68, a. 
 
 165 ff. Undervahied to, of no less value when compared to. 
 Cf. " Hyperion to a satyr," " Hamlet," I, ii, 140. 
 
 169. Golden hair and fair complexion have always been the 
 budge of beauty with Germanic races, from Woden down to the 
 knights and ladies of the popular ballad ; and Shakspere's own 
 apologies for the dark lady of the Sonnets (137, 130, 131, 133, 
 137, 141, 147, 150, 153), the "woman colour'd ill," are well 
 known. The sunny locks of Portia are probably a concession to 
 the English public who would take a stage-beauty on no other 
 terms ; for it is to be doubted that they knew anything about 
 Titian's golden-haired beauties (see Variorum, p. xi), or cared for 
 local color on a basis of Burton's wisdom (" Anatomy of Melan- 
 choly," iii, 3) : "We have grey eyes for the most part . . . they 
 be childish eyes, dull and heavy. Many commend on the other 
 side Spanish ladies and those Greek dames ... for the 
 blackness of their eyes." Note the apologetic tone of Donne 
 ("Elegy"): 
 
 The last I saw in all extremeB is fair, 
 
 And holds me in the sunbeams of her hair . . . 
 
 Another's brown, I like her not the worse ; 
 
 Her tonffue is soft and takes [= enchants] me with discourse— 
 
 or of Kicholas Yonge's "Madrigal" : " Brown is my love," where. 
 
104 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 liowever, editors tell us tliat the original words were Italian. 
 
 Golden hair was popular enough in ancient Rome. 
 
 175. Note the omission of the relative, and ef. "Sir Patrick 
 
 Speus " : 
 
 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, 
 Was walking on tlie sand. 
 
 177. The Clarendon editors point out Antonio's inconsistency 
 in this statement. See 11. 41-45 above. — Commodity is merchan- 
 dise, something to be used as " collateral." 
 
 178. Neither need not be contracted into an actual monosylla- 
 ble. Cy. Tennyson, "Princess": 
 
 Myriads ofrimdets hurrying througli tlie lawns. 
 
 183. JVesen% = immediately. Cf. "by and by." 
 
 185. As a favor, in the way either of business or of friendship. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Portia and Nerissa. — " Shakspere's waiting-women," says Miss 
 Latham {Trans. New Shahsp. Soc, 1887-93, p. 91 S.), "are sharply 
 divided into the gentlewomen and the domestic servants." She 
 notes the custom (see "Paston Letters," 28 Jan., 1457) of sending 
 young ladies to live in the household of some lady of a higher 
 position tlian their own. Even married women filled such a 
 place, like Emilia in "Othello" (III, i), where Cassio speaks of 
 " the gentlewoman." Nerissa, then, belongs to the class of gen- 
 tlewomen along with Helena ("All's Well"), Ursula and Mar- 
 garet ("Much Ado"), Lucetta ("Two Gentlemen"), and Maria 
 (" Twelfth Night"). See also Hunter's note in Var., p. xi. 
 
 1. Portia is by no means so sad as Antonio, not to mention 
 Macbeth's world-weariness ; but aside from the Shaksperian 
 notion of comedy (see note to I, i, 1), and the artistic reason for 
 introducing the heroine in this mood, Portia has on her mind 
 that perplexing business of the chests, and perhaps some tender 
 recollections of Bassanio's earlier visit. 
 
 1-26. The antithesis and general style remind one of Euphu- 
 ism, a very proper thing when one remembers that "Euphues" 
 was in the first instance a book for ladies. For Euphuism, 
 seethe introduction to Arber's reprint of "Eupliues"; Jusser- 
 
8c. II.] NOTES lOj^ 
 
 and, "The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare,'' chap, 
 iii ; and an excellent article by Dr. Landmann, Trans. New 
 Sliaksp. Soc, Feb. 10, 1883. The revival of learning led to this 
 refinement of native speech. Spain was the chief source of 
 Euphuism, and the thing was in vogue before Lyly wrote his 
 novel ; for Guevara had been translated into English, and his 
 alto estilo was duly imitated. In Italy, too, as Laudmann points 
 out, there were ' ' the conceits of the Petrarchists, and Mariui 
 and the Marinists ; in France we meet Ronsard and his school, 
 Du Bartas and the Prgcieuses." See Introd., p. xxiv, for the re- 
 marks of Amoretto. "Euphues" was written for ladies of the 
 English court. The style is overwhelmingly antithetical, allitera- 
 tive, full of similes, and these are based on a preposterous natural 
 history. Portia and Nerissa do not talk direct Euphuism ; but 
 the sentences have a distinctly Euphuistic balance. Not even 
 Armado (in "Love's Labour's Lost ") parodies Euphuism ; he sim- 
 ply shows stilted talk of the Spanish style. The only direct parody 
 of Euphuism in Shakspere, tliinks Dr. Landmann, is "I Henry 
 IV," n, iv, 438 : " Harry, I do not only marvel," etc. Euphuism 
 lost its main vogue about 1590, thanks to Sidney. See Drayton 
 (in 1637) to Henry Reynolds, " Of Poets and Poesie " : 
 
 The noble Sidney . . . 
 
 . . . did first reduce 
 Oar tongue from Lyly's writing then in use ; 
 Talking of stones, stars, plants, of fishes, flies, 
 Playing with words and idle similes ; 
 As the English apes and very zanies be 
 Of every thing that they do hear and see, 
 So imitating his ridiculous tricks, 
 They spake and writ all like mere lunatics. 
 
 Beduce, of course, — "lead back." But Sidney himself could be 
 affected enough, and employed repetition of catchwords by way 
 of making his style brilliant. There are touclies of the sort in 
 this scene between Portia and Nerissa. See Jusserand, "Eng. 
 Novel," p. 355 fl. 
 
 7. Mean (a). Folio reads small, defeating play on words. To le 
 seated in the mean, to attain the " golden mean, " was the great vir- 
 tue preached by mediaeval didactic poetry. . Temperantia, mother 
 of all the virtues, was recommended particularly to women. 
 
106 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 10. Sentences = sententice, maxims, as in Tacitus ; for the di- 
 rectly didactic sentence, see tlie advice of Polonius to Laertes 
 in "Hamlet." To pradence is added piety in George Herbert's 
 Church Porch. 
 
 25. Nor refuse none. The freedom of oldest English to use 
 more than one negative in a clause, lingers in Shakspere's time. 
 Cf. "Nor never none shall mistress be of it," " Twelfth Night," 
 HI, i, 171. See Koch, "Englische Satzlehre," p. 535 S., and 
 Abbott, § 406. 
 
 32. Folio and Q.j read: hut one who you shall ... In 
 our text, who is nominative to love. 
 
 35. I pray thee. Thou and thee were used to servants and to 
 intimate friends, or else expressed contempt, as " What trade, 
 thou knave, thou naughty knave, what trade ?" in "Jul. Cses.," 
 I, i, 16. Te and you, as singular pronouns, began to be used soon 
 after Anglo-Saxon times ; you, as nominative, occurs as early as 
 the fifteenth century. — In regard to the naming of the suitors, it 
 has been pointed out that this is a repetition, with great im- 
 provement, of the scene between Julia and Lucetta, " Two Gen- 
 tlemen," I, ii. — Ward, "Dram. Lit.," i, 279, suggests that our 
 present scene may imply a tribute to the "much wooed " Eliza- 
 beth herself. 
 
 37. Level = aim. 
 
 38. Steevens pointed out that the Neapolitans were famous 
 horsemen. 
 
 39. Colt = " a young foolish fellow." — Schmidt. 
 
 44. County = count. — Q.j and fol. print Palentine. Cf. mes- 
 senger < messager, passenger < passager, etc. 
 
 45 £E. Dr. Furness suggests that this may mean: "If you will 
 not have me, I don't care ; take your choice; " or " If . . . , 
 let it alone, — do as you will;" or, again, omitting the comma, 
 and so supplying, in Neptune's manner, a reason for the frown: 
 " If you will not have me choose, ! " 
 
 47 ff. Weeping philosopher = Heraclitus. 
 
 49. Had rather. On this construction, which is correct enough, 
 see not only P. Hall, American Journal Philology, ii, 381, but also 
 an excellent note in Jespersen, "Progress in Language," London, 
 1894, p. 326 ff. : "... Aa(^ raiAer is to be taken as a whole, 
 governing the following infinitive. Had rather is used by the 
 
Sc. 11.] NOTES 107 
 
 best authors; by Shakespeare at least some sixty times." Had 
 is better than would, which some people think the only correct 
 phrase; but Jespersen shows that even the folio began to feel 
 uneasy, and once ("Rich. HI," III, vii, 161) changed had to 
 ijoould. 
 
 52. By = in regard to. See II, ix, 26 ; Abbott, § 145. 
 
 59. A-eapering. Capering is the verbal noun, and a = on. 
 (y. " a hunting," " a fishing." In " The house is building," we 
 understand such an a = on. 
 
 "70. Proper man's picture. Proper = handsome. "Man's-pict- 
 ure," if so taken (instead of proper-man's p.), would be like 
 mannsbild in German (Middle High German marines bilde), where 
 hild = person. 
 
 71. Dumb-show. Familiar to Shakspere's audiences. See 
 "Hamlet," HI, ii. — Suited = dressed. 
 
 75. Scottish. So the quartos. The folio, for good reason with 
 King James in the question, has ' ' other. " — The Frenchman 
 would naturally side with the Scot. 
 
 80. Another, sc. " box of the ear." 
 
 90. Tou should refuse, as Clarendon notes, = our " you would 
 refuse." Of. the famous "She should have died hereafter," 
 "Macbeth," V, v, 17; and, equally famous, Marlowe, " Tambur- 
 laine," part I, V, i: "If all the pens, etc. . . . yet should 
 there hover," etc. 
 
 97. The having any. English present participles originally 
 ended in -ende; the northern form was -inde. Finally this ending 
 became -ing, thus causing confusion with the verbal nouns. 
 Shakspere frequently allows the verbal noun to take an object, 
 as if it were a participle: so 116, below; II, ii, 72; etc. Pepys, 
 in his "Diary," is very fond of this construction. 
 
 101. Your father's imposition = what your fatlier lias imposed. 
 
 103. Sih/lla = probably the Cumsean whom JEneas consulted, 
 said to be the same who came to King Tarquin with the famous 
 books. 
 
 107. Fol. has: "I wish them a . . ." In 1605 was passed 
 the act forbidding "the great abuse of the holy Name of God 
 in Stage-playes, " although, as Variorum points out, the folio 
 has elsewhere "God forbid " and kindred expressions. For the 
 terrific swearing indulged in by people under Elizabeth, see 
 
108 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 Traill, "Social England," iii, 384, and Stubbes, "Anatomy of 
 Abuses," p. 133. 
 
 113 £E., 117 fE. There is no hesitation, no coquetry in Portia's 
 words, although some actresses seem to think it in place. Noth- 
 ing could be finer than the simplicity of " I remember him well." 
 
 130. The foure strangers. Commentators have remarked that 
 there were six. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Shylock. Farmer pointed out a pamphlet, printed about the 
 time of the play, called " Caleb Shillocke his Prophecie, or the 
 Jewes Prediction " ; and Clarendon refers to a ballad of the same 
 title in the Pepys Collection. The name, then, was known in 
 Shakspere's day. — A dissertation on Shylock is out of place ia 
 these notes, particularly in regard to the insoluble problem of 
 what Shakspere " meant." The grimness of Shylock forbids us 
 to assume mere diversion. Whether he was drawn from life, one 
 can hardly say; but S. L. Lee ("The Original of Shylock," Oen- 
 flemari's Magazine, February, 1880) shows that there were some 
 Jews in England at the time, in spite of the unrevoked banish- 
 ment long years before. Houigman {Jdhrhich, xvii, 308) in- 
 sists on the double character of Shylock as a moral Caliban and 
 yet a hero and martyr. Victor Hugo, generalizing in his usual 
 fashion, makes Shylock the incarnate spirit of the Jewish race, — 
 if one may use this word "race" after Darmesteter's protest. 
 Ten Brink, more subtly, compares Shylock with Richard HI 
 ("Shakspere," p. 119 &.), and calls the former one of the drama- 
 tist's most successful characters, — successful in conception, suc- 
 cessful in artistic elaboration. Certainly it was common enough 
 in Elizabethan drama to blend in one character the successful 
 but detestable with the ruined but tragic and admirable. Mar- 
 lowe's " Edward II." offers material for this consideration. The 
 King, and even Mortimer, are detestable in their success, digni- 
 fied in their tragic ruin. How far Shylock appealed to the Shak- 
 sperian audience as such a tragic character, how far he ministered 
 to the traditional hatred and contempt for Jews — " I am a Jew 
 else " (II, ii, 107), notes Mr. Lee, was a common phrase of 
 protest — it is difficult to say. Surely we can get a footing on 
 firmer ground- if we take the case of Malvolio in "Twelfth 
 
Sc. III.] NOTES 100 
 
 Nigbt." The tragedy-hint is far less marked, to be sure, pre- 
 cisely as the whole play is sunnier, calmer than the "Merchant 
 of Venice." But there is a certain tragic appeal, a suggestion of 
 undeserved fate, in Malvolio's fall, which all the grotesqueness 
 of the situation cannot hide. Probably the safest refuge in 
 either case is an appeal to Shaksperian irony, along witli a 
 wholesome resolve to accept Shylock as we find him, and say, 
 without further question of motive, wliat Dryden is reported to 
 have said about Chaucer: "Here is God's plenty." — For the 
 wider subject of Elizabethan England and the Jews, see Mr. S. L. 
 Lee's paper under that title in Trans. New Shahs. Soc, 1887-93, 
 p. 143 ff. From 1290 to the time of Cromwell, says Green, there 
 were no Jews in England; but Green is too fond of positive 
 statements, and Lee makes out a good case for Jews in London 
 from whom Shakspere might have drawn his Shylock. — For the 
 opinions of actors about this character, see Variorum, pp. 
 370-394. 
 
 The dramatic skill of Shakspere in these three scenes is striking 
 enough. First, we have sad Antonio, with merry foils, and tlie 
 romantic quest of Bassanio. Secondly, there is Portia, mocking 
 her own solicitude in light play of wit over a more than grave 
 situation, with the pretty half-confession about Bassanio. Now 
 comes this Shylock, striking straight into the two motives — 
 friendship and love — with a tragic threat so admirable in its 
 weaving that we utterly forget the flimsy material, the absurd 
 character of that merry bond. Exposition, the object of a first 
 act, was never better achieved than here. 
 
 1. Ducats. What value one sets upon the ducat, — whether 
 Coryat's 4s. 8d., in which case one must increase six or eight fold 
 in order to get a modern equivalent, or not, — it is evident that 
 Shakspere meant this to be a large sum of money. 
 
 4. The ■which. See Abbott, § 270. 
 
 7. May . . . Will. Are you able to help me, and will you 
 do me tlie favor ? 
 
 18. Mialto. "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 Venetian gentlemen and the merchants doe 
 meete twice a day, betwixt eleven and twelve of the clocke in 
 the morning, and betwixt five and sixe of the clocke in the after- 
 
110 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 noon." — Coryat, in Var. Clarendon quotes Florio's derivation 
 from Rwo Alto, a high shore. 
 
 30. 5^Mani«r«(Z= "scattered," the original meaning of the 
 Word. See Skeat's "Etym. Diet." 
 
 Zl . A foMning publican. Note the change to verse. As for the 
 expi'essioTi, snrely " publican " in the biblical sense is meant, as 
 Elze insists. In "fawning," however, the commentators find a 
 difficulty. Professor Moulton (" Shaks. as Dram. Artist," p. 
 61) actually gives the line to Antonio ! The " publican," liow- 
 ever, wou'd "fawn" on his superiors, after the manner, say, of 
 German officials, and Antonio, in Shylock's view, would " fawn" 
 on his superiors, the richer merchants, and the noblemen of Ven- 
 ice. Shylook he would treat, and does treat, with the insolence 
 of a Eomau publican towards the Jews. The " low simplicity, " 
 alluded to below, justifies the "fawning," and "publican" is a 
 good, mouth-filling epithet for Shylock's purposes. 
 
 38 if. See Abbott, § 151. 
 
 41. Usance —that is, usury, interest — was still regarded in Shak- 
 spere's time as an unholy thing. Bacon's "Essay of Usurie" is 
 well known. English law, however, recognized interest in Shaks- 
 pere's time, — usury was legalized by Henry VIII., — striving to 
 limit it to ten and then to eight per cent. "In the Middle Ages, 
 borrowing implied misfortune or thriftlessness, and lending at 
 interest meant generally the taking advantage of a neighbour's 
 distress or folly. "—Traill, "Social England," p. 543. This feel- 
 ing was still strong, in spite of mercantile and legal customs. 
 Thus in a tract already quoted, John Udall's " State of the Church 
 of England " (Arbor's "Eng. Schol. Lib.," No. 5), which appeared 
 in 1588, the usurer — one of the oliaracters— is said to live by "an 
 unlawful trade," and the bishops are blamed for befriending such 
 a fellow. Says the usurer of his puritan critic : "He . . . 
 tooke me up . . . because I saide I lived by my money and 
 was of no other trade, calling me caterpillar, thief and murderer, 
 and saide plainly, that he that robbed in Stan-gate-hole was an 
 honester man than I." And the puritan : " Sir, I saide nothing 
 to him but the truth out of the Word of God, in condemning of 
 usurie . . . and shewed him the horribleness of the sinne, 
 the inconveniences temporal that come of it in the commonwealth, 
 and the judgements of God against the practises thereof." We 
 
Sc. III.] NOTES 111 
 
 need not wonder at Antonio's point of view. On this whole sub- 
 ject, see Lecky, "History of Rationalism in Europe," ii, 341 £E. 
 It must be remembered that Jews were permitted to ply this 
 trade, because they " had no scruples on the subject and . . , 
 had adopted this profession partly because of the great profits 
 they could derive from it, and partly because it was almost the 
 only one open to them." 
 
 43. Upon the hip. A term in wrestling. See IV, i, 332, and 
 "Othello," II, i, 814. 
 
 47. Which he calls interest. " Le Fevre, who was tutor to Louis 
 XIII.j mentions that in his time the term interest had been sub- 
 stituted for usury, and he added : 'C'est la proprement ce qu'on 
 pent appeler I'art de chicaner avec Dieu.' Marot also, who wrote 
 in the first half of the sixteenth century, made this change the 
 object of a sarcasm : 
 
 * On ne prete plus 3. 1'usnre, 
 Mais tant qu'on veut ^ I'interet.' " 
 
 — Lecky, "Hist. Rationalism in Europe," ii, 357. 
 
 58. Excess ; i. e., over the amouut ; interest. 
 
 59. Sipe wants, "arrived at a point where they must be sup- 
 plied. "—Schmidt. 
 
 60. Q.i reads : "Are you resolv'd How much he would have ?" 
 Fol. : "Is he yet possess'd How much he would ?" — where the 
 second he is probably a misprint for ye, as in our text, which fol- 
 lows the other quartos. This, of course, must be addressed to 
 Bassauio, who does not answer. Dr. Furness prefers the read- 
 ing of Q.i. See his note in Var., p. 40 S. 
 
 69. As= "for so": Abbott, § 110. 
 
 74. Compromised = agreed. Cf. Lat. compromissum, a bond or 
 engagement. ^asTiZin^ = a new-born lamb. See Skeat's "Diet.," 
 under yean. 
 
 75. Pied = party-colored. 
 
 77. Peeledme. jl/e = ethical dative, frequent inShakspere. Cf. 
 Abbott, § 330. 
 
 97. Beholding =: "beholden," as often in the plays. 
 
 111. Still {— a\-v;a.y») have Home it . . . The commenta- 
 tors refer to Marlowe's " Jew of Malta," ii, 3, especially : 
 
 I learn'd in Florence how to kiss my hand, 
 Heave up my shoulders when they call me dog. 
 
113 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act I. 
 
 113. CaU. Called would make a better antithesis : see Vari- 
 orum. 
 
 114. Gaberdine, "along and loose outer garment," but not dis- 
 tinctively Jewish. The yellow bonnet was the mark of the Jew. 
 
 136. A treed for. Fol. reads of. A hreed for barren metal is 
 increase, interest (harping, perhaps, on Shylock's story about 
 Jacob) for a thing which is barren and cannot in any natural way 
 beget increase. 
 
 138. Who if he break. Shakspere may have been thinking {see 
 Var.) of a construction like Quisifidemfranget; but it is the com- 
 mon " anacoluthon," noticed, e. g., in the opening sentence of 
 Milton's ' ' Areopagitica, '' and in cases mentioned by Abbott, § 349. 
 See also a sentence quoted by Koch from an older translation of 
 the Bible (John, x, 12) : " A schepherde, tohos ben not the scheep 
 his oione.'" 
 
 143. Doit, " smallest piece of money." 
 
 145. This were hindneis — sc. in any one else. — ^For the metre, see 
 Abbott, § 514. 
 
 147. Single bond. Possibly an English legal phrase meaning 
 "without condition" ; but this requires us to adopt Mr. Eolfe's 
 suggestion that Shylock wishes Antonio to think the "condi- 
 tion " of the forfeit of a pound of flesh really no condition at all, 
 a bit of sheer fun. Schmidt says single is "mere, " " only " ; but 
 Dr. Furness would explain it as referring to Antonio, — "sepa- 
 rate," which is really the explanation of Clarendon, — "without 
 sureties." 
 
 151. Equal, exact. — For is nearly redundant : Abbott, § 148. 
 
 163. Teaches, the Northern or Late Northumbrian plural in -s, in- 
 stead of the original (Anglo-Saxon) -th of Southern English. Tliis 
 Northern -« took the place of -th in the singular, 3d pers. ; but in 
 the plural is now found only in dialect. The ballads are fond of 
 it ; and cf. the song in "Cymbeline," II, iii : 
 
 . . . Phoebus 'gins arise 
 His steeds to water at those springs 
 On chaliced flowers that lies . . . 
 
 165. Break his day. In "The Geste of Robin Hood " there is 
 a legal case which makes good reading for comparison with our 
 play. Cf. 103= : " I am come to holde my day," and 106' : "Thy 
 daye is broke." 
 
Act II., Sc. I.] NOTES 113 
 
 168. For estimable, slurred, see Abbott, § 495. 
 
 173. Formyhve. Does not this mean: "And, as regards my 
 love, my friendly motive in the business, do not misunderstand 
 me . . ." ? 
 
 177. Fearful = to be feared, untrustwortliy. Cf. painful, in 
 "Sonnet "25, = "taking pains," -with the ordinary "full of 
 pain"; careful ("Kich. II," II, ii, 75) = "full of care," with 
 the ordinary ' ' taking care. " 
 
 178. Knave = "boy" (Ger. Knabe), with humorous or con- 
 temptuous connotation, like our "rogue," "rascal," etc. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 "The old stage direction is as follows: 'Enter Morochus, a 
 tawny Moore all in white and three or f oure followers accordingly, 
 with Portia, Nerissa, and their traine.' " — Clarendon. 
 
 1. Complexion. So many figures of speecli in Elizabethan 
 poetry are based upon the doctrines of Galenical medicine, that 
 the teacher would do well either to give his class an account of 
 the "humours" and kindred lore, or else require a brief theme 
 on the subject, with reference to a good cyclopaedia. Here com- 
 plexion has its modern meaning, but in III, 1, 37 it means nature, 
 temperament, the complex of "humours" in the body. When 
 these were well balanced, the complexion (best shown by the 
 color of the face) was good. 
 
 6. Reddest. Red blood, of course, indicating courage, high 
 birth, and manly qualities generally. — For the superlative, see 
 Abbott, § 10. 
 
 13. Thoughts — affection; somewhat like "fancy." 
 
 14. Nice = "fanciful, fastidious" (Clarendon). 
 18. Wit = judgment. 
 
 20 £E. Commentators have pointed out the dubious nature of 
 this compliment. Cf. Portia's remarks on the other suitors. 
 Clarendon thinks that /air plays on Morocco's complexion. 
 
 35. Sophy. This, in Shakspere's time, had "grown to be the 
 common name of the Emperor of Persia." 
 
114 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act II. 
 
 26. Clarendon suggests tliat Solyman the Magnificent may be 
 meant, and Ms unfortunate campaigns against Persia in 1535. 
 
 27. Outstare. Q.s and fol. liave on-stare. 
 
 29. Note the hovering accent of the final measure in this 
 verse. 
 
 31. Alas the while, originally, as commentators suggest, an im- 
 precation upon conditions of the present time. ' ' Woe worth 
 the day," quoted from Ezekiel, xxx, 2 (add the well-known 
 passage in "Lady of the Lake"), is generally misunderstood. 
 Worth ="be to," from the Anglo-Saxon pres. suhj. of weor/ian; 
 and this helps us to understand the original flavor of imprecation. 
 
 36. Page. Theobald's happy emendation for the rage of quar- 
 tos and folios. — Lichas, "an attendant of Hercules, brought his 
 master the poisoned garment." — Smith, " Class. Diet." 
 
 44. Temple. Keightley wishes to read tal>le. 
 
 46. Blest or eursedst. Both superlatives. See Schmidt's list of 
 similar cases, p. 1419; cf. "A weak and colder palate," "Troil.," 
 IV, iv,.7 ; " Tlie generous and gravest citizens," "Measure," IV, 
 vi, 13 ; and Goethe, "Faust," II, iii (Lament for Byron) : "Dirin 
 klar und triiben Tagen." 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 "Enter the Clowne alone " is the original stage direction. 
 
 1. Commentators suggest, in view of what follows, that " will 
 not serve " should be read. But Launcelot says it in a kind of 
 coaxing doubt: " Surely my conscience will yield, serve me, do 
 as I wish." 
 
 8 ff. Steevens pointed out "Much Ado," III, iv, 51: 
 
 I scorn that with my heels. 
 
 10. Via was used in England to encourage horses. 
 
 16. Something grow to. Cf. "As You Like It," I, i, 90 : "Begin 
 you to grow upon me ? I will physic yourrankness." Clarendon 
 explains it as a "household phrase applied to milk when burnt 
 to the bottom of the saucepan, and thence acquiring an unpleas- 
 ant taste." 
 
 20. Q., here reads: "Fiend . . . you counsel ill," a reading 
 retained by Pope and others, and defended by Dr. Furness. 
 
Sc. II.] NOTJES 115 
 
 22. God Mess tlie WMrh, au apologetic or satiric plirase. Marh 
 is obscure. Professor Child suggested to Dr. Furness a reference 
 to Ezekiel, ix, 6. 
 
 25 ff. Incamal. Other texts read incarnation. Of course, in- 
 carnate is meant. See confusions, 1. 35. The similar antics of 
 Dogberry, the clown in "Hamlet," and other of Shakspere's 
 characters, will occur to the reader; but it must be noted that 
 this was a time when new words, "inkhoni terras," were flood- 
 ing the English language, and rousing people to lively interest 
 in the matter of vocabulary. Fiedler ("Gram, der Engl. 
 Sprache," 2d ed., p. 106) remarks that of Elizabethan writers 
 Bacon and Raleigh are conspicuous for refusing such facile coin- 
 age. The great majority, liowever, held with Marlowe's pedant 
 that it is "a special gift to form a verb." 
 
 34. Sand-blind, probably a popular etymology (sand, as if 
 specks or blurs in the eyes) from a supposed sam-Uind = half- 
 blind.—" Cent. Diet." 
 
 35. Confusions, for "conclusions," which is the reading of Q.i. 
 
 40. Marry = Mary, a common oath. 
 
 41. Of no hand. See Abbott, § 165. 
 
 43. Soniies. Schmidt prefers sante or sanctity as the original 
 word. Others say saintes. 
 
 49. Master. "The title which men give to esquires and other 
 gentlemen." Webster, in the dedication of the " White Devil," 
 gives this title to his brother dramatists. 
 
 51. WeU to live: " With every prospect of a long life " (Vari- 
 orum) ; "in good case " (Schmidt). 
 
 52. A' = he. Cf. the a in quotha. This colloquial contrac- 
 tion occurs in Chaucer (cf. Kittredge, "Troilus," p. 152), and is 
 still common in certain dialects. As ha it occurs for he in Early 
 Middle English. An't = an it, if it. An is probably a weaken- 
 ing of older and = if. 
 
 54. M-go (for a list of foreign words used by Launcelot, see 
 Schmidt, p. 1425 ff.) is here used in its proper meaning: "Be- 
 cause I am 'your worship,' and Launcelot is my friend, there- 
 fore, are you not talking of Master Launcelot 2 " 
 
 57. Therefore [I am] Master Launcelot. 
 
 65. Eotiel-post — "post of a shed." 
 
 66. Father was a common and familiar title for old men. 
 
116 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act It 
 
 78. Launcelot has knelt with his back to his father, which ex- 
 plains the following mistake about hair and beard. 
 
 89. Lord worshipped might he ie ! Ingenious attempts to refer 
 this phrase to Launcelot are idle enough. It is merely another 
 way of saying " Lord be praised ! " 
 
 91. Fill = " thill" = shaft of a cart. 
 
 98 flE. Set up my rest. Gf. "Rom. and Jul.," IV, v, 6, and per- 
 haps Lear, I, i, 125. It was probably a phrase used in a game of 
 cards (primero ?), and meant to risk one's money, to lay a heavy 
 wager on the chance of the game ; hence to be fully resolved. 
 
 103. Oive me. This so-called ethical dative is so common in 
 Shakspere that the teacher should use the examples given by 
 Abbott (§ 320), and should call attention not only to the same 
 idiom in modern German, but also to kindred phrases like 
 " your philosophy " (" Hamlet," I, v, 167), common now in col- 
 loquial English. 
 
 115. Gramerey. Chaucer ("Nonne Prestes Tale," 150) uses 
 the older form : 
 
 Kadame, quod he, graunt [= grand] jnercy of your lore. 
 
 124. Cater-cousins. Note Gobbo'a apology for using the plirase. 
 The sense is plain, — "on poor terms of intimacy," — but the 
 meaning of cater is obscure. Johnson suggested qiuitre; i. e., 
 fourth cousins. Hales thinks of" mess-fellow "; i. «., caier. Clar- 
 endon: "May the word come from quHeur, and mean 'as good 
 friends as two friars begging for rival convents ? ' " The " New 
 English Dictionary " practically inclines to the explanation of 
 Hales, and suggests the parallel oi foster-father, etc. Cater = ca- 
 tour, " aphetic form of acatour,^'' one who purchases food. 
 
 137. Frutify, with some such notion as " certify," and possi- 
 bly (see Variorum) harking back to Launcelot's specify, which is 
 taken as "spicify," — spice and fruit. 
 
 139. Preferr''d = recommended. Preferment = promotion. 
 
 143. Clarendon quotes the Scotch proverb : The grace of God 
 is geir enough. 
 
 148. Guarded = trimmed, and this (Ang.-Sax. trymman) means 
 "strengthened," which is almost the same as grw/rded. 
 
 151. TaMe = the palm of the liand. The commentators sug- 
 gest many explanations ; but may we not get good sense by read- 
 
Sc. IV.] NOTES 117 
 
 ing oi for a? "Which doth offer {i. e., itself) to swear upon 
 (= for swearing upon) as book (». «., so veracious that one could 
 use it as Bible, etc.)." I shall have good fortune would then be a 
 sentence by itself. 
 
 153. Simple line, "an ordinary line,'' said ironically. The ex- 
 pressions are taken from palmistry. 
 
 172. Abbott's explanation (§ 312) of this theeis certainly wrong. 
 See an excellent discussion of the substitution of thee for thou, in 
 Jespersen's " Progress in Language," London, 1894, p. 347 fl. In 
 unemphatic position the -ou (then 4) weakened precisely as our 
 -ou (= u) weakens in you when the pronoun has no emphasis. 
 There can be no question, however, that the impersonal construc- 
 tion with datives ("if you like"= if it like you) helped the gen- 
 eral change from nominative {ye, thou) to dative {you, thee). 
 
 177. Liberal — gvoss, too "free," licentious. Cf. the "liberal 
 shepherds," " Hamlet," IV, vii, 171. 
 
 180. Misconsterd spells the folio, as the word wns then pro- 
 nounced. {Misconatred : Qq.) 
 
 185. Hood . . . with my hat. Hats were then worn at meals ; 
 and consistent Quakers early in this century kept on their hats 
 when at table. 
 
 188. Sad ostent: "show of staid and serious behavior.'' 
 (Johnson.) 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 5. Soon at supper, like soon at night = this very night. See 
 Schmidt (8). 
 
 10. Tears must show what my tongue would say if it could 
 come to utterance. 
 
 11. Did. The oldest editions read do. 
 
 13. Oet — beget ; if we retain do in the line above, get has its 
 ordinary meaning, and refers to Lorenzo. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 5. Vs. Either = " f or ourselves," or misprint for as, which is 
 the reading of F.,. — Note hovering accent in final measure, and 
 cf. 23, 39, and II, vi, 40, as well as I, i, 53. 
 
118 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act II. 
 
 6. Quaintly, strikingly, in such a way as to attract attention. 
 Skeat notes tliat eognitus, from ■which quaint is derived, was con- 
 fused with comptus = neat, graceful. 
 
 13. Perhaps Dr. Furness goes too far in making this conven- 
 tional quibble testify to the fact tliat Jessica is not of an Oriental 
 complexion. Variorum, p. 81. 
 
 33. Provided of. Cf. "Macbeth," I, ii, 18 : 
 
 Supplied of kernes and gallowglassoB. 
 
 26. Some hour. Abbott, § 21 : " About an hour." 
 29. Needs, adverbial genitive : " of necessity." — What follows 
 involves zeugma of the verb : "She has directed . . . [and 
 has told me] what gold," etc. (Schmidt, p. 1419). Cf. IV, i, 75 ff. 
 37. Faithless, without faith, infidel. 
 
 SCBNE V. 
 
 19. Clarendon quotes dream-lore : " Some say that to dream 
 of money, and all kind of coyne is ill." — As for to-night, cf. 1. 37, 
 below, where it is used in the modern sense. Here, to-night 
 means "this night," "last night." For the general use cf. 
 (Koch, " Satzlehre," p. 380): "To middan dsege ic ete " : I 
 dine at mid-day. See also Abbott, § 190. 
 
 24. Black-Monday, Easter-Monday. Cf. " Piers Plowman " (ed. 
 Skeat), iii, 192 : 
 
 And draddeet to be ded for a dym cUmde. 
 
 On "the morrow after Easter Day (1360), King Edward with his 
 host lay before the city of Paris ; which day was full dark of 
 mist and hail, and so bitter cold that many men died on their 
 horsebacks with the cold ; wherefore unto this day it hath heen 
 called the Slack Monday.'" — Stow, quoted by Skeat. 
 
 30. Wry-neck' dffe. Instrument or performer ? " To send a 
 trumpet" — i. e., a man with a trumpet — is a common phrase; and 
 see Variorum (note, p. 89) for the position of a flfe-player's head. 
 Probably, however, the instrument is meant. 
 
 33. It is doubtful whether masks or actually painted faces be 
 meant. In any case Shylock is thinking both of the disguise and 
 of the deception. 
 
sc. Yi.] ^^OTI:s 119 
 
 43. For omitted relative, see I, i, 175. — Jewes read the quartos 
 and folios ; but this spelling does not exclude the Jewess^ of our 
 text, an emendation which began with Pope. Perhaps there is a 
 reference to some proverb about "a Jew's eye" in the way of 
 mutilatioa or ransom ; but no actual proverbs are quoted. 
 
 46. Patch = a fool, a jester, probably so named from the motley 
 dress. A term of contempt. Cf. "Macbeth," "V, iii, 16 : " What 
 soldiers, patch ? " 
 
 48. Wild-cats, as Clarendon suggests, prowl and prey by night, 
 sleep during the day ; but one never knows what astounding 
 notion may lie at the root of any Elizabethan reference to ani- 
 mals. See Jusserand's "Engl. Novel," p. 106 fE. 
 
 50 fl. That . . . his = whose. Cf. Chaucer, "Knight's 
 Tale," 1851 ff. : 
 
 . . . namely oon [one]. 
 That with a spere was thirlSd [pierced] his brest-boon. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 3. The half lines exactly correspond, and together make an 
 Alexandrine ; common in Shakspere. 
 
 5. The doves which draw the chariot of Venus. Schmidt con- 
 siders that faster, as applied to the second member of the sen- 
 tence, means " more firmly " : " Their swiftness in sealing bonds is 
 greater than their film constancy in keeping them. " Of course 
 (see Variorum) it is Venus, drawn by the pigeons, who seals the 
 bonds. 
 
 7. Obliged = bound by contract. (Clarendon.) 
 
 9. Abbott, § 394. 
 
 10. Clarendon quotes "King John," V, iv, 53 : 
 
 We will untread the steps of damned flight, 
 
 i. e., tread ia reverse order; retrace. 
 
 14. Qq. have younger; fol.i, s, yanger. Rowe suggested the 
 modern reading. 
 
 15. Scarfed, adorned with flags. — Commentators point out the 
 disturbing she (17), as well as a change from a prodigal to the 
 prodigal (son). Variorum bints at possible corruption of the 
 text. For the gender, Meurer notes that silver (II, vii, 33), 
 
120 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act II. 
 
 fortune, misfortune, nature, and even the wealthy Andrew are 
 feminine. 
 
 16. Cf. "Othello," IV, ii, 78 ff. 
 
 24. "Metrically defective,'' say the commentators, and suggest 
 " Come, approach," or "Come, then, approach." But approach 
 may be trisyllabic, like so many words with r; and the preced- 
 ing pause alone would compensate for the omitted syllable. 
 
 30. Who. A common accusative in this construction, not only 
 in Shakspere's time, but at present. The clash between "gram- 
 mar " and usage is recognized more in America than in England. 
 Whom in a question like "Whom do you mean ? " Sweet (" Short 
 Historical English Grammar," § 384) declares to be "extinct." 
 See Jespersen's admirable book, "Progress in Language," § 171, 
 with examples and references. 
 
 35. Exchange; i. e., for a boy's dress. All the women in the 
 play wear this disguise on occasion ; and Jusserand reminds us 
 ("Engl. Nov.," p. 338) that not only were the novels full of this 
 expedient, but it was common in real life. Queen Elizabeth was 
 actually advised to travel as page to Melville, the Scottish am- 
 bassador, that she might meet the Queen of Scots. " Alas," 
 sighed Elizabeth, " if I might do it thus ! " 
 
 43. Too too. Of. "Hamlet," I, ii, 139. A common iteration: 
 "ofteu used [as a compound] to denote exceeding." See Vari- 
 orum, p. 98. 
 
 44. Should he = ought to be. 
 
 51. Hood. Malone took this to be the hood of Gratiano's 
 "masqued habit "; Steevens preferred a friar's hood; White says 
 the oath is "by my self," i. e., "by my estate," etc., making 
 hood = Anglo-Saxon had, one's profession or rank. As Gratiano 
 is not unlike those gentlemen of light literature who swear so 
 terribly by their boots, we may refer this weighty matter to the 
 toilet, and support its dignity by a line in Marlowe's "Edw. 
 n." (I, iv), where Gaveston 
 
 . . . wears a short Italian hooded cloak, 
 Larded with pearl. 
 
 Gentile: In the foL, gentle, a confusion intended by Shakspere. 
 53. Beshrew — curse. 
 
8c. VII.] NOTES 121 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 4. Who, for which. Not as common a transfer as which for who. 
 Of. "King John," II, i, 575: 
 
 The world, wJio of itself is peised well. 
 
 5, 7, 9. The inscriptions are in the so-called Alexandrine 
 measure. 
 
 26. If thou le'st. See Schmidt's list under Be (4), where ^Hhou 
 he'st = tJwu ie after if." Of course, the form is indicative, and 
 Mr. Rolfe says it must not be confounded with the subjunctive 
 le; but that is precisely what happened in older forms of mod- 
 em English. See Sweet, "Short Historical English Grammar," 
 p. 189 fE. 
 
 30. Disabling — discrediting, disparagement. 
 
 41. " Hyreania was a name given to a district of indefinite ex- 
 tent south of the Caspian." — Clarendon. 
 
 43, 47. Portia is here an incipient refrain to mark ofiE a stanzaic 
 arrangement of blank verse familiar to us in Tennyson's "Tears, 
 Idle Tears "in "The Princess." Marlowe was fond of such an 
 arrangement, and Professor Katharine Lee Bates, in her edition 
 of this play, quotes the lines about Zenocrate from " Tambur- 
 laine," Part II, 11, iv. — See the famous amoebean verses of this 
 play (V, i, 1 ff.) for a different device. 
 
 50. It = lead. 
 
 51. Bib = enclose. Ceredoth = shroud, so called from the 
 wax in the fabric. Cf. cerements, which Hood uses in his 
 "Bridge of Sighs." — Obscure. Note the " hovering accent.'' 
 
 53. Clarendon points out tliat this was the ratio in England 
 in 1600. 
 
 56. The angel was worth ten shillings and had a device of 
 Michael piercing the dragon. — Clarendon. Whether Angelua and 
 Anglus "moved our former kings " to such coinage, may be left 
 in doubt. 
 
 57. Iiwculp'd upon. An angel engraved upon the coin; where- 
 as here an angel (Portia's picture) lies within. 
 
 69. Tombs. Quartos and folios read timber. The emendation 
 is Dr. Johnson's. 
 
123 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act II. 
 
 77. PaH = depart. Of. Milton, " Nativ. Hymn," 183 ff. : 
 
 From haunted spring, and dale 
 
 Edg'd with poplar pale. 
 
 The parting genius is with sighing sent. 
 
 The "flourish of comets," appropriate here, is found (in the 
 folio) at the beginning of the next scene. The editors of the 
 "Cambridge Shakspere" (II, 449, note) have made the transfer. 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 19 ff. The hurrying and huddled metre corresponds admirably' 
 to the mood of Shylock. 
 
 27. Reasori'd = discussed, talked. 
 
 33. You were iest. The dative you, partly for phonetic and 
 partly for syntactic reasons, absorbed the functions of the nomi- 
 native ye, and such a construction as this (= for you [it] were 
 best) became unintelligible. Few oi'dinaiy readers now know 
 that methinhs (= it seems to me) is a very different phrase from 
 "I think " ; and this ignorance spoils the force of Hamlet's " Me- 
 tliinks I see my father." The loss of the dative is responsible 
 for such a construction as "Se was given a reception." Con- 
 fusion had begun in Shakspere's time, and he uses "I were 
 better," "I were best" (V, 175), as well as the phrase under 
 discussion. 
 
 89. Slubber = slur over. 
 
 42. Mind of love. Heath, followed by Abbott (§ 169), puts a 
 comma after mind, and makes of love — "for the sake of the love 
 you bear me " ; but Clarendon reads as in our text, and explains 
 " loving mind." To insert the comma is wrong, for it spoils the 
 metre; but tlie interpretation of mind of love needs discussion. 
 Unquestionably of + noun is often used to express a quality, and 
 so takes the place of an adjective, as a god of power = powerful 
 god ; thieves of mercy = merciful ; brow of youth z= youthful, and 
 oath of credit, below, V, 286. Schmidt includes our phrase in 
 his valuable list (p. 797), but he also includes waste of shame 
 ("Sonnet" 129) in 
 
 The expense of spirit in a waste of shame 
 Is lust in action, 
 
Sc. IX.] NOTES 
 
 123 
 
 glossing = "shameful waste." This robs of its force one of the 
 strongest lines ever written, besides jarring upon metrical em- 
 phasis. "The shame is not merely an accident, but the essence," 
 writes a distinguished English scholar who agrees with the 
 present editor,— a waste which is shame. There is not the same 
 objection to mind of love = loving mind ; but it seems better to 
 understand it as objective, — "your mind bent upon love, your 
 purposes of courtship." Cf. "Love's Labour's Lost," V, ii, 412: 
 
 Henceforth my wooing mind shall be expresa'd 
 In russet yeas . . . 
 
 and in this play, above, II, v, 37 : 
 
 I have no mind of feasting forth to-night. 
 
 48. Sensiile = sensitive. 
 
 52. The heaviness, sadness, to which he clings. 
 
 Scene IX. 
 
 9. ITiree things, a sort of spondee ; the accents of verse and of 
 word are equally heavy, and unite to give proper emphasis. 
 
 18. To hazard. Clarendon takes this as a noun. 
 
 19. Address'd = prepared. 
 
 26. By = for. 
 
 27. Fond = foolish. 
 
 28. Note the metre. — The martlet is the martin, — Hirundo 
 urbica, says Schmidt. This is not a case of Euphuistic natural 
 histoiy. See also "Macbeth," I, vi, 4. 
 
 41. Estates, " ranks and dignities. " 
 
 44. Cover, "wear their hats as masters." — Clarendon. 
 
 61. Mr. M. F. Libby, of Toronto, kindly permits the editor to 
 quote an unpublished note on this line. He thinks it means: "I 
 have the misfortune to reject you as a suitor ; do not make me add 
 insult to injury by declaring that you deserved nothing better than 
 you got," — that is, the line refers to Portia's attitude, and is not, 
 as Eccles thought, a rebuke to Arragon. It is surely no rebuke ; 
 but perhaps a better explanation would be: " Do not confuse the 
 insult (of the idiot's head and the inscription) with my purely 
 judicial attitude in presiding over your choice and enforcing its 
 
124 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act III. 
 
 conditions." If the line refers to Arragon, it is consoling, not 
 rebuking: "You made a bad judgment, but you committed no 
 offence," — though this is unlikely. — Note the hovering accent on 
 distinct. , 
 
 68. I wis. See ywis (= Ger. gewiss, "certainly") in Skeat's 
 "Dictionary." Shakspere probably uses the phrase as pronoun 
 and verb, and so understood it as = "I wot." Even in Cliaucer's 
 time wist was occasionally used in the indicative present, second 
 person. Of course, iwis, ywis, was common enougli in Middle 
 English, and may have been an adverb still for Shakspere, with 
 corrupted spelling. In both cases the root is the same. 
 
 86. Dyce pointed out this "sportive I'ejoinder" of Portia, who 
 is merry in her relief of mind, and calls the servant "my lord" 
 in answer to his "my lady," as Prince Hal greets Mrs. Quickly 
 ("I Hen. IV.," n, iv, 315): 
 
 HoBtesB.— O JeBU, my lord the prince I 
 Prince. — How now, my lady the hostess ! 
 
 89. Sensible regreets = perceptible or tangible greetings. 
 
 93. Likely = pleasing, one who fits his office. 
 
 98. High-day = holiday, exceptionally fine, choice. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 3. Unchecked = uncontradicted. 
 
 3 S.. The Goodwin Sands in the English Channel, then often 
 called "The Narrow Sea." 
 
 9. Dr. Furness, rejecting "White's "ginger-nuts," and improv- 
 ing on the " snap ofiE, break short," of older editors, suggests 
 that hnapped = "nibbled," and points to "Measure for Meas- 
 ure," IV, iii, 8: — " ginger was not much in request, for the old 
 women were all dead," — as proof that gossips affected the root. 
 Delius explains in the same way. 
 
 37. Complexion, temperament, and hence "nature." See note 
 II, i, 1. 
 
 Match z= bargain. 
 
Sc. II.] NOTHS 125 
 
 49 ff. Note the forcible prose of this passage. Would it be 
 improved by metre ? 
 
 64. Humility = humanity, kindness. Schmidt has shown that 
 with Sliakspere humanity = human nature, never what we call 
 "humane" qualities. 
 
 85. Thou. F0I..J has then, which Dr. Furness commends. 
 
 100. The Qq. and Ff. have here, which Rowe changed to where, 
 adding the interrogation mark. Dr. Furness defends the original 
 reading on the ground that Shylock had heard rumors of the 
 wreck {ef. 1. 2 ff. of this scene), but would not trust the report, 
 but now learns the truth of it, and that the wreck did not hap- 
 pen in England, but is known "here in Genoa." 
 
 113. The Turquoise (fol. Turkies) is the stone for a lover's ring, 
 as it changed its color if the giver fell into trouble or grew incon- 
 stant. For similar tests, cf. Child, "Ballads," i, 360 ff., 368 ff. 
 The point here is that Shylock values the ring for its association 
 with Leah. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 6. Quality = manner (Schmidt). 
 
 7 ff. These lines have occasioned much comment. They may 
 mean (1) "Lest you should not know me well enough, as things 
 stand, for such a step as marriage, — although, after all, maid- 
 enly modesty will keep me from saying much of my feelings, — 
 stay here some month or two before you venture " ; or (3) " For 
 fear you may not understand why I wish you to postpone your 
 hazard,— let me say . . . but, you know, a girl thinks many 
 things she doesn't say, — I will simply ask you to wait a month or 
 two." Those who wish to consider the passage curiously, may 
 read the long note in Variorum (p. 134 ff.) and track the references. 
 In any case, Portia's sentiment is clear ; and nothing could be more 
 charming than the growth of " a day or two " into " some month 
 
 or two." 
 
 15. O'erloohed, "subdued by the look" (Schmidt), fascinated, 
 bewitched (Clarendon) ; with reference to " Merry Wives, " V, y, 
 87. Is there not also a reference to reviewing, looking over, in 
 the sense of maUng an inventory ? Then the "dividing " comes 
 in, after Shakspere's manner. Cf. a similar play on tlie word 
 
126 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act III. 
 
 oversee, which Schmidt uses in one sense for comparison with oW- 
 looTc, in "Lucrece," 1205 fl. : 
 
 Thou, CoUatine, shalt oversee this will ; 
 How was I overseen that thou shalt see it I 
 
 30. If it prove so, — that I, yours really, am not yours by 
 this lot, — Fortune, not I, ought to bear the torture of loss and 
 separation. 
 
 22. Peise, poise, weigh: "to retard by hanging weights" 
 (Steevens). 
 
 39. Fear (for) the enjoying, lest I shall not enjoy. Abbott, 
 §300. 
 
 33. Torture was not unknown in England under Elizabeth, 
 though it " had always been illegal." James I. presided in per- 
 son over the torture of Dr. Fian, accused of witchcraft ; and the 
 diabolical character of Scotch tortures is well known. 
 
 49 fl. Malone thought that this was an allusion to the corona- 
 tion of Henry IV. of France in 1594. 
 
 54. More love. " Because Hercules rescued Hesione, not for love 
 of tlie lady, but for the sake of the horses promised him by La- 
 omedon. See Ovid's 'Metamorphoses,' xi, 311-214." — Clarendon. 
 
 56. Virgin tribute = tribute of virgins : see note to I, i, 80. 
 
 61. Live thou = if thou live. — Much much more, the reading of 
 Q.3. Gf. too too, above, II, vi, 42. 
 
 63. Schmidt makes fancy in this place = love. So " fancy- 
 free," "Mids. N. Dr.," II, i, 164. Dr. Furness interprets : "As 
 the song says, fancies (which sometimes in Shakespeare mean 
 genuine passion, but here it hints only a passing sentiment) come 
 by gazing, have no life deeper than the eyes where they are born." 
 Hence, the song tells Bassanio to beware of merely external 
 attractions ; and Bassanio responds : " So — I understand the hint 
 — so may the outward shows," etc. If one objects to this forced 
 interpretation of fancy, and desires to understand it as love pure 
 and simple, one may consider the answer in the song as condi- 
 tional. If love be merely a matter of tlie eyes, and if the lover 
 can always "meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy" 
 ("As You Like It," III, v, 39), then love is no real love ; hence, 
 — and the moral is the same. 
 
 67. Eyes. Qq. have eye. 
 
Sc. 11.] NOTES 127 
 
 81. Vice, P.a. The quartos and F., have voice. 
 
 87. Excrememt = the " beards " of 1. 85, — " that which grows out 
 of the body," another illustration of the rule that words derived 
 from the Latin tend in time to lose their original meaning. 
 
 94. Supposed fairness = "surmounting fictitious beauty," ex- 
 plains Clarendon. Mr. Rolfe connects with preceding line : "On 
 the strength of their fictitious beauty." 
 
 95 fE. Clarendon refers to "Timon,"rV, iii, 144, and "Son- 
 net " 68. 
 
 97. Chiiled. This is not a participle, but an adjective (see 
 Schmidt, p. 1417), and means "full of guile." 
 
 99. This is the great crux of our play. Dr. Purness has two 
 pages of notes, and since the date of this Variorum edition the 
 discussion goes merrily on : see, for example. Notes and Que- 
 ries, 1889, Jan. 19 (p. 42), May 18 (p. 384), July 30 (p. 44).— In 
 spite of objections, why not retain text and punctuation, and find 
 sniBcient antithesis by laying stress on Indian? " The beauteous 
 scarf is the deceptive ornament which leads to the expectation 
 of something beneath it 1)etter than an Indian beauty" (Bray, 
 quoted by Variorum). — We remember the prejudice for fair 
 beauty ; see above, note to I, i, 169. 
 
 102. Hard food for Midas. As Dr. Furness points out, Shak- 
 spere probably got his knowledge of Ovid from Arthur Golding's 
 translation of the "Metamorphoses," in which (xi, 102 ff.) is told 
 the story of Midas. 
 
 106. Paleness. On account of (103) pale, "Warburton read 
 plainness, which Dr. Fumess, for various reasons, seems to ap- 
 prove. 
 
 107. Ten Brink prettily uses this choice of the leaden casket as 
 illustration against the pet argument of the Baconians, contend- 
 ing that we too should not insist on outward greatness or suc- 
 cess as conditions for a work of genius. 
 
 109. As — namely. 
 
 113. Rain. F.„ F.s, and Q.j have razwe; (^. i 'has range ; Q.3, 
 Q.4 have rein. The last (= check, rein in) would give the best 
 reading. 
 
 115. Counterfeit = portrait. Cf the German ConUrfei and 
 
 Conterfeien. 
 134. The liamirig in this " negligent construction " depends on 
 
128 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act m. 
 
 the preceding he, which gives way to the one as subject of what 
 follows. This huddling style, however, —note the break in 133, 
 — suits the occasion. 
 
 126. UnfurnisVd, "not equipped with its fellow eye." — 
 Clarendon. 
 
 130. Continent. Note the nearness to the Latin : " that which 
 contains." 
 
 140. That is, to "claim her with a kiss," as the "note" di- 
 rected, which is to be " conflrin'd, sign'd, ratified " by Portia. 
 
 141. Prize, "a contest for a reward." — Schmidt. 
 
 149. Mr. M. F. Libby insists upon Shakspere's art in "show- 
 ing the height of a character by foils or graded inferiors," just 
 as he shows the height of Dover Cliflfs by steps. Morocco is the 
 first step, and Arragon the second; so we come to "the modest 
 and manly Bassanio." — Dr. Furness, with his usual kindness, 
 sent this note, as well as that for 11, ix, 61, to the editor; and 
 Mr. Libby has kindly allowed both to be quoted in these Notes. 
 
 157. Livings, "property, possession, fortune." — Schmidt. 
 
 159. Sum of something. The folios read nothing. Clarendon 
 puts a dash before something, as if Portia were hesitating "for 
 a word which shall describe herself appropriately." 
 
 162. Clarendon pronounces the line " defective both in metre 
 and sense," and seems to approve Capell's "happier than this 
 in that . . ." Fol.i reads "happier then this"; Fol.j, j, , 
 "happier then in this," which is the reading Variorum prefers, 
 considering that the in is really present in the then of Fol.i. — 
 Learn may be dissyllabic, and the sense is good enough as our 
 text stands. 
 
 164. Collier reads in for is. — Clarendon explains happiest as 
 neuter. 
 
 193. From me. Dr. Purness approves Abbott, § 158: "none 
 differently from me, none which I do not wish you." Mr. Rolfe, 
 following Dr. Johnson in essentials, suggests: "none away from 
 me, since you liave enough yourselves." Certainly, Gratiano 
 seems to be leading up to his request. 
 
 200 ff. "You loved: I loved for pastime," — i. e., to avoid the 
 vacancy of delay, — taking for [intermission] in its frequent sense 
 of "for fear of," "to avert." Gratiano, in his jesting fashion, 
 intimates that something had to be done by way of filling up 
 
Sc. 11.] NOTES 139 
 
 this "intermission " of his usual life in Venice. Theobald, how- 
 ever, could see no sense in "loving for intermission," and read 
 
 Ton lov'd, I lov'd : for intermiBsion 
 
 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
 
 That is, I am no more fond of standing idle than you are. Clar- 
 endon follows this reading, and Dr. Furness approves. The 
 Cambridge editors retain the reading as in our text, so that the 
 explanation of Staunton must be followed for 201: "I owe my 
 wife as much to you as to my own efforts." 
 
 215. Salerio. Is this a new character, as in our text ? Is it a 
 blunder for Salauio, or even for Salerino ? Like Delius, Dr. 
 Furness agrees with Knight and Dyce that it is not a new char- 
 acter, since the company of that day included so few actors. But 
 the same actor, as nowadays, could appear in another part. 
 My old Venetian friend is really (Dr. Furness points this out) 
 the strongest argument for Salanio. Our text follows the Cam- 
 bridge edition. 
 
 219. Vei-y = true. 
 
 232. Estate = state. — Here the folios have "Opens the letter"; 
 Q.i, "He opens the letter"; Q.j, probably a stage-copy, "Open 
 the letter." 
 
 235. Royal merchant. Dr. Johnson pointed out that this was 
 an epithet familiar to Shakspere, because it was applied to Sir 
 Thomas Gresliam. 
 
 237. Douce: " Antonio with his argosy is not the successful 
 Jason; we are the persons who have won the fleece." — But see I, 
 i, 170, 172. Is it not " We are the Jasons " ?— Daniel (Vari- 
 orum, p. 162) thinks there is a pun on fleece wnAfl^a. 
 
 239. Shrewd = evil. See dictionary for the history of the 
 word. 
 
 243. CoTistant — firm, fixed. 
 
 247. UnpleasanVst. Abbott, § 473. 
 
 258. Mere =: absolute. 
 
 264. Th. Elze (see Variorum, p. 164), after a hard search through 
 this play, found only three slips in what we now call "local 
 colorin"." Venice "never had any direct communication with 
 Mexico." 
 
 274. " Denies that strangers have equal rights in Venice." 
 
130 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act III. 
 
 276. Mugnifleoes, chief men of Venice. See "Othello," I, 
 ii, 12. 
 
 278. Envious = malicious. 
 
 289. Unwearied, superlative : see Bote, IT, i, 46. 
 
 303. R. G. White estimates Portia's liberality at a million 
 dollars of our money. — Note the accent after the pause, and con- 
 sequent gain in emphasis. 
 
 308. A merry cheer (a merry face), a phrase of Chaucer's time. 
 The opposite was ' ' a caref uU chere, " " Geste of Robin Hood, " 28''. 
 
 315. Between you and I. See Jespersen, " Progress in Lang., " 
 J§ 156, 192, wlio explains: " J"was preferred to me after and, be- 
 cause tlie group of words you and I, he and I, etc., in which this 
 particular word-order was required by common politeness, would 
 occur in every-day speech so frequently as to make it practically 
 a sort of stock-phrase taken as a whole, the last word of which 
 was therefore not inflected." The modern motive for such a 
 phrase (the vague notion that me is ungrammatical however 
 used) could not have obtained in Shakspere's day. 
 
 Scene HI. 
 
 9. Naughty = wicked. See V, 91. — Fond = foolish. 
 
 10. Of. the familiar hymn : 
 
 " Whene'er I take my walks abroad ..." 
 
 19. Kept = dwelt. 
 
 25. "Allow to hold good." — Clarendon. 
 
 27 fl. Note construction, and cf. above. III, ii, 124. If it le de- 
 nied (= the denial of the conveniences, privileges, that strangers 
 have) forms a subject for will much impeach. Some editors make 
 the denial refer to the course of law. 
 
 32. Bated = weakened. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 2. Conceit, concept, notion. See I, i, 92, and "Hamlet," II, 
 ii, 579. 
 
 6. To sliow the pupil that gentleman is a dative, hardly to 
 
8c. v.] NOTES 131 
 
 be used at present, is not mere grammatical information; it is 
 by noting the greater flexibility of form and construction, the 
 greater freedom of vocabulary, tliat one learns the Shakspere 
 dialect, and that is the real object of this linguistic analysis. 
 
 21. Folios and Q.a have cruelty. 
 
 35. See note to 1. 6 above, and Abbott, § 451, for such words 
 used as nouns. 
 
 30. Gf. (Schmidt) "Nor child nor woman's face," " Corio- 
 lanus," V, iii, 130. 
 
 46. Tliee. To the servant. FoMto Lorenzo and Jessica. The 
 ihov, and thee to Nerissa springs from familiarity, not from 
 superiority. 
 
 49. Padua. Theobald's correction for the "Mantua" of the 
 old texts. 
 
 52. Imagined = "imaginable," or else "of imagination," as 
 we still say "swift as thought.^' Milton has unreproved = not to 
 be reproved, "Par. Lost," iv, 493, and "Allegro," 40; unremmed 
 = not to be removed, iv, 987 ; whereas (iv, 843) inviolable seems to 
 mean inviolate. 
 
 53. Tranect, a ferry. Traject would be nearer the Italian 
 traghetto, and Rowe, approved by many, substitutes the former 
 word instead of tranect, a word not met with elsewhere. — Tlie evi- 
 dences of acquaintance witli actual scenes and customs of Venice 
 which one finds in this play have led to the belief that Shakspere 
 had actually visited the city, and even in liis description of Bel- 
 mont had a definite place (sec Variorum, p. 175 ff.) in mind. 
 
 63. Accoutred: Rowe. Q.s, s, i and folios read accoutered ; Q. , 
 apparreld. 
 
 72. I could not do withal, I could not help it. Among tlie many 
 instances quoted by editors, this from Nash, — "If he die of a sur- 
 feit, I cannot do withal, it is liis own seeking, not mine," — is the 
 best. See note, Var., p. 179 ff. 
 
 77. Jachs. A term of contempt. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 Elze thinks (see Variorum, p. 184) that this scene, otherwise 
 too trivial, is meant, under cover of the clown's bells, to bring 
 
132 MERCHANT OF VENICE /Act lU. 
 
 out Shakspere's notion about the conversion of Jews, and to dis- 
 approve in advance the penalty imposed upon Shylock. 
 
 3. Ifearyou;i.e., " for you." Cy. " Hamlet, " I, iii, 52 : "Fear 
 me not." 
 
 4. Agitation, probably (Eccles) for "cogitation." 
 
 14 ff. Malone noted the allusion to the well-known line of a 
 modern Latin poet, Philippe Gualtier, in his poem entitled " Alex- 
 andreis '" : 
 
 Incidis in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim. 
 
 The poem belongs to the thirteenth century, and Steevens says 
 it became " a common school-book." — See Variorum, p. 183. 
 20. Enow, the plural of enough. 
 
 42. Cover here = put on the hat. 
 
 43. QaaiTelUng with occasion. ' ' Contrary to, and seeking to 
 elude, the matter in question." — Schmidt. " Quibbling on every 
 opportunity." — Clarendon. Probably Shakspere had both of 
 these notions in his mind. 
 
 52. Launcelot has just made a ridiculous application of the 
 rule for " proper words in proper places." Lorenzo laughs at the 
 clown's sudden fit of precision: " O dear discretion (cf. discemo), 
 how his words are suited (in exaggerated nicety of applica- 
 tion) ! " — If the student thinks Lorenzo means more than this, he 
 may consult Variorum, p. 185. 
 
 53. Allen suggested : hath, planted in his memory, . . . 
 
 57. Defy the matter = slight the real meaning. — Cheer'' st. Q., 
 is probably better : How fa/r'st thou? 
 64. So Q.i- Polios: 
 
 And if on earth lie do not mean it, it 
 Ib reason . . 
 
 Pope changed to merit it, In. Halliwell suggests j(??i(Z. One ex- 
 pects. Clarendon remarks, some word meaning appreciate ; but 
 Dr. Furness approves Capell's explanation: to m^an it = "to ob- 
 serve moderation " ; and this certainly allows us to retain the 
 reading of our text. 
 
Act IV., Sc. l.J NOTMS I33 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 1. What. Kot an exclamation of surprise, as in Bernardo's 
 question, "What, is Horatio there?" ("Hamlet," I, i, 19), but 
 the well-known exclamation, as in the opening line of the 
 "Beowulf": Hwcet! 
 
 6. From, = of. 
 
 7. Qualify = temper. 
 20. Remorse = pity. 
 26. Moiety = portion. 
 
 34. Gentle. Dr. Furness admits the possibility of an intended 
 pun here, but pleads against the likelihood. 
 
 39. An unimportant blunder. As White remarks, this threat 
 would have little terror for the Doge of Venice. 
 
 46. Baned = killed. Ang.-Sax. iana, a murderer. 
 
 47. Gajdnff ; i. e. , with its mouth open ("garnished with a lemon), 
 as served on the table for Christmas dinner, or else " squealing" : 
 "let not the doubt which, disturb our souls," advises R. G. 
 White. 
 
 50. The old editions had for sole punctuation in this line a full 
 stop after affection, and read in the next line : Masters of passion. 
 Thirlby suggested the reading of our text. Dr. Furness prefers 
 for affection, master of passion . . . 
 
 56. Woollen iag-pipe. Either a bag-pipe with woollen covering, 
 or (Capell) a wawling bag-pipe. One may repeat White's remark, 
 above, note to 1. 47. 
 
 65 IE. It is hardly necessary to assume here imitation of the 
 stichic arrangement familiar in classical drama. 
 
 68. Offence = injured feeling, sense of wrong. Whereupon, as 
 Clarendon notes. Shy lock treats the word as meaning the actual 
 injury. 
 
 73 fl. The reading of Q. ,, except that bleat is there Medke. 
 
 76. And [command them] to males no noise. 
 
 77. Fretten. There is nothing "irregular "here. Fret (like 
 German fressen) is lov for-eat, — if one may so modernize, — "to 
 devour," then " to chafe" ; and fretten corresponds with eaten as 
 past participle : Anglo-Sax. freten. The folios xe&d fretted. 
 
134 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IV. 
 
 83. The offices of adjective and noun are exchanged. We 
 should say " convenient brevity and plainness." See Schmidt, 
 1417. 
 
 105. Whether Portia knew or did not know that the Duke had 
 sent for Bellario, is not important. To the latter she sent Bal- 
 thazar for certain "notes and garments" (III, iv, 50); but before 
 tliat, in Bassanio's absence, she may have communicated with lier 
 learned cousin. For Elze's possible model for Bellario, see Vari- 
 orum, p. 458 fl. 
 
 131. Edwin Booth, in a letter to the editor of the Variorum (see 
 p. 384), notes tliis as a case of Shakspere's shiftiness as a theatrical 
 manager, and says it is, notwithstanding, " a most dangerous ' bit 
 of business,' and apt to cause a laugh." 
 
 135. Hangman = executioner. 
 
 138. Inexecrable, "that cannot be execrated enough " (Claren- 
 don); but Dr. Furness prefers inexorable, the reading of fol.s, 4. 
 
 134 £E. In the Variorum (p. 307) Dr. Furness thinks there is 
 corruption here, or even that it is an actor's addition. But in 
 Shahespeariana (August, 1888, p. 356) he quotes from certain 
 travels to show that wolves were aetiutlly hanged. Who, etc. (as in 
 constructions noted above, III, ii, 134 ; iii, 37 fi.) = "alnd [when] 
 he [was] hang'd," etc., " did his fell soul fleet," etc. 
 
 143. Cureless. So the quartos. The folios have endless. 
 
 161. Is not the Zei Aim Zaci a printer's repetition from 160 ? Let 
 Ms lack of years be no impediment to a reverend estimation, is good 
 sense. If we retain the phrase, we may explain : Je no impediment 
 [so as, or, of a kind] to let him lack, etc. 
 
 167.' Come, Qq. Came, Ff. 
 
 168. Place; i. e., beside the Duke. 
 
 170. Schmidt (under 6) makes question — " discussion, disquisi- 
 tion, consideration," but (3) "judicial trial" would be better. 
 
 178. Z)aragr«r = jurisdiction, power. Of. Chaucer, " C. T.," 
 663: 
 
 In daunger hadde lie at his owng gise 
 The yonge gurlea of the diocise. 
 
 It is sometimes used for " debt." 
 
 180 fE. TI16 fabric of this whole passage needs no praise, but 
 the weaving of it may be noted, perhaps, without trenching too 
 much on the territory of those amphibious commentators who 
 
So. I.] NOTES 135 
 
 are never sure whether they are on the land of philology or in the 
 sea of sesthetics. First comes Portia's quite natural must (180) ; . 
 as Abbott (§ 314) remarks, it lacks "the notion of compulsion," — 
 as if she said : " Then there is nothing for you except the Jew's 
 mercy," — but Shylock, standing always for the law, asks why he 
 "must " be merciful, though his question is by no means in the 
 sense of Nathan's hein Mensch muss mussen. Directly as answer 
 to this, without any appeal to rhetoric, comes Portia's plea for 
 mercy. " On what compulsion ? None. The quality (= nature, 
 character) of mercy is that it acts without compulsion ; it is not 
 strain'd (=: constrained)." Again, in 186-195 note the unforced 
 but exquisite balance of thought. The assertion that Mercy 
 hea/mes The throned, monarch tetter than his crown, is repeated in 
 the exactly corresponding passage below : And earthly power 
 doth then show likest God^s When mercy seasons justice; while the 
 six intervening lines contrast the terror of the law and the diviner 
 sway of mercy. 
 
 184. Blest (an adjective, not a participle) = full of blessing. See 
 other examples : Schmidt, p. 1417 ; and cf. Ill, ii, 97. 
 
 189. Awe = that which inspires awe. 
 
 203. See above, 1. 134, and references. 
 
 213. That malice, not honesty, is behind this appeal to the law. 
 
 221. Daniel. See the story of Susannah (Apocrypha), of Bel 
 and the Dragon, and Ezekiel, xxviii, 3 ; Daniel, vi, 3. 
 
 231. See I, iii, 153 fE. — But Shylock has specified his choice in 
 the bond. 
 
 246. Hath full relation = may be applied. 
 
 249. More eld^. Abbott, § 11. 
 
 253. Balance. Plural on account of the sibilant ending. 
 
 261. You. The folios have come. 
 
 266. Still her use — it is always her wont. 
 
 270. By dwelling (with the so-called liovering accent) on the 
 words Of such misery., we can bring this verse within the bounds 
 of any but rule-of -thumb scansion. Or we may read Of such a 
 Vfith F.s, 3, 4. 
 
 273. "Speak well of me when I am dead." — Clarendon. Or 
 could it be : Speak well of the way in which I died ? (Qi.) 
 
 279. Presently = instantly, the reading of the other quartos and 
 of the folios. The jest is not ill-timed, but pathetic enough. 
 
136 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act IV. 
 
 294. Barrdbas. The common pronunciation in Shakspere's day. 
 ■ 296. Pursue. Hovering accent. 
 
 316. This offer. Q,., reads his. 
 
 326. Ill the substance, "in the mass, in the gross weight." — 
 Clarendon. 
 
 332. Cf. I, iii, 42. 
 
 333. Dr. Furness suggests that in this "pause" Shakspere 
 may intimate to us that the play is trembling between tragedy 
 and comedy. Suppose Shylock had taken his forfeiture, — and 
 the consequences ! In the next line the Jew renounces his hero- 
 ism, his tragic chance, but not his dignity. He craved the law, 
 and the law — as all agree — turns out to be a quibbling thing. 
 Much has been written about the character of the law in this 
 play, and what Shakspere "intended" by the discomfiture of 
 Shylock : see Variorum, p. 403 S. We have, however, to remem- 
 ber that the facts were in the main handed down to the play- 
 wright from his predecessors in narrative, even barring the 
 possibility that an older play gave the facts of the trial as we 
 have them. The pupil would probably be interested in the 
 "Dramatic Reverie " of R. H. Home, printed by Dr. Furness, p. 
 400 ff., and should notice Home's attempt to hit the Shaksperiau 
 cadence of verse as well as general style. 
 
 344 fE. This is the really strong case against Shylock, and is 
 evidently Bellario's contribution. The quibble about blood and 
 an exact pound was Portia's. 
 
 350. Contrive = plot. 
 
 355. Predicament, " a definite class, state, or condition." — 
 "Cent. Diet." Cf. "the lowest in the predicament of your 
 friends." 
 
 360. Formerly, like "the above" in a document. 
 
 370. In the Academy (Jan. 9, 1892, p. 38) Professor Tyrrell 
 suggests that drive should he derive in its sense of "turn from 
 the course, deflect," as in Latin, and as used in "II Hen. IV.,'' 
 IV, V, 43 : "this crown . . . which . . . derives itself 
 to me." 
 
 371. Antonio's portion must not be thus commuted. 
 
 378. If the Duke will remit the fine, for which the forfeiture of 
 half of Shylock's estate was to be commuted, Antonio will take 
 the half due to himself, but simply hold it " in use." in trust, for 
 
Sc. I.] NOTES 137 
 
 Lorenzo and Jessica. Antonio is to get nothing out of the ar- 
 rangement ; but there seems to be some doubt whether the inter- 
 est of this half was to fall to Shylock during his life (Ritson), or 
 to the children (Clarendon). 
 
 397. The twelve jurymen. 
 
 398. Ewit Shylock. Further stress on this martyi'dom of Shy- 
 lock would have defeated the "comedy." 
 
 I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; 
 lamrwtweU . . . 
 
 is all that the drama can bear ; and the skill of the artist now 
 plays rapidly and firmly about the jest of the rings and the em- 
 barrassment of the husbands, with moonlight and music and 
 laughter for the close. A good parallel for study is the solution 
 offered by Chaucer for a corresponding problem in narrative. 
 The tragic death of Arcite in " The Knight's Tale " must be fol- 
 lowed by the marriage of Palamon. The transition is admirable. 
 The death itself is described with a dash of cynicism : 
 
 And certeynly ther nature wil not wirche^ 
 Farwel phisik ; go ber the man to chirche. 
 
 His spirit channgede hons and wente ther, 
 As I cam never, I can nat tellen wher ;— 
 
 and then we have the gibes about widows, and that masterly con- 
 solation offered by old Egeus : 
 
 " Right as ther deyde nevere man," quod he, 
 " That he ne lyvede in erthe in som degree. 
 
 Eight so ther lyvede nevere man," he seyde, 
 " In al this world, that som tyme he ne deyde." 
 
 Then Theseus, with his commonplaces, bores us into sheer for- 
 getfulness of the tragedy, and we are all agog for a wedding. 
 Shakspere tells us nothing more about Shylock. Villains like 
 Edmund and lago are provided for in a tragedy ; but Shylock 
 vanislies. He is hardly mentioned again, and only in an imper- 
 sonal way. Nothing whatever is said of the trial. There is no 
 hint of sadness ; even the merchant seems to have undergone a 
 general toning-up, and his "liver-trouble," as Booth called it, 
 
138 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act V." 
 
 is cured — though at V, 338, there is threat of an attack. Yet 
 there are those who assert that all the merriment is superfluous, 
 and would end the play with this same Exit Shylock ! All good 
 artists, from Shakspere to Uncle Remus, know better than 
 that. 
 
 404. Gratify, express your thanks to, recompense. 
 
 410. Cope, in general "to encounter," and so, here, "to re- 
 ward" : We reward your pains with (withal) three thousand 
 ducats. Qratify and cope ai-e polite euphemisms. 
 
 439. To give = by giving. 
 
 443. ^?i=and = if. See Murray's "New English Diet.," I, 
 317, under C. 
 
 449. Command[e'\ment : quadrisyllabic. 
 
 453. Presently = at once. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 6. Advice, deliberation. Of. I, i, 143. 
 
 15. Old, like "brave," " flue," or the like. For examples, see 
 Schmidt (7). Mr. Rolfe compares "high old time." We still 
 apply " old," somewhat in the sense of Latin ille, when we speak 
 of favorites, famous people, and the like. Of. also " Here, old 
 pup !" to a dog ; and the German '■'■alter Jwngep'' used jocularly 
 to a friend. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Here is pure romance, comedy as Shakspere understood it, air 
 prodigally "sweet after showers," to make us forget the tempest 
 of threatened tragedy. Poetic justice is fairly wanton here, and 
 almost ironical. The argosies come back ; everybody is happy ; 
 and even Shylock has his Christianity. The same half- 
 ironical treatment prevails at the end of " As You Like It," Celia 
 marrying Oliver, and the wicked Duke turning monk on such 
 flimsy provocation. Only a German, however, could quarrel with 
 the ■motiviruTig in our play ; for Shakspere takes care to open this 
 fifth act with such charm of moonlight, of old romance and young 
 
Act v.] notes 139 
 
 love, that we accept the happiness without asking too nicely how 
 it all came to pass. — For the Elizabethan love of music, which 
 plays such a part in this act, both by special mention and in the 
 fabric of the rhythm, see Introduction, p. xxi. 
 
 1 fE. Matthew Arnold has claimed for the Celtic element in 
 Englisli poetry that "natural magic " which he finds so richly 
 represented in these opening lines. The form is amoebean (re- 
 sponsive), and reminds one — very distantly — of the pastorals of 
 Vergil or of Theocritus, as well as of the mediaeval imitations ; but 
 this merry flyting of the lovers has a spontaneous charm unknown 
 to the cleverest pastoral. These lovers, by the way, are Lorenzo 
 and Jessica by name, but they are really Bassanio and Portia, 
 whose first glimpse of the honeymoon is thus taken by deputy. 
 The alha, or, as the Germans call it, the I'agelied, — alternate 
 stanzas sung by lovers parting at daybreak, — is also famous 
 among lyrics, and has brought out admirable poetry ; but, 
 again, the matchless little Tagelied in "Romeo and Juliet," 
 where the lovers part, puts to shame all deliberate work of the 
 kind. Note that blank verse such as this has all the quality of 
 rime. A stanzaic effect is given, not only by the responsive 
 arrangement, but by the refrain, which here opens instead of 
 closing the stanza. For comparison (only for the stanzaic effect, 
 not for the amoebean), read Tennyson's "Tears, Idle Tears" and 
 Lamb's " Old Familiar Faces.'' Further, it is worth noting 
 that the refrain throughout stands in the second half of the 
 verse. 
 
 4. TroUiis. The tale of Troy divine, as told in mediaeval ro- 
 mance, was not the classical story. Benoit de Sainte More, in his 
 French "Roman de Troie," with late Latin "histories" for 
 source, made Biiseida (= Briseis) heroine of a love story, witli 
 Troilus and Diomedes as her lovers. Then came Guido da Co- 
 lonna with his Latin " Historia Trojana" (1387). Boccaccio 
 transformed this dry stuff into his fascinating "Filostrato" 
 (= " The Love-Prostrated "). Brilliant as this was, Chaucer far 
 surpassed it with his "Troilus and Cryseide," and gave the last 
 touch of tragic romance to a story which is "Trojan" only in 
 name. Probably, when the " Merchant of Venice" was brought 
 out, there was a play of "Troilus and Cressida" familiar to the 
 public, and serving afterwards as basis for Shakspere's cynical 
 
140 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act V. 
 
 drama. Steevens first noticed that Chaucer himself furnished the 
 facts for this line. See "Troilus," V, stanza xcvi (Aldine ed.) : 
 
 Upon the wall§8 fast ek wold he walke ; 
 
 And on the GreekSs oost he woIdS se, 
 And to himBelf right thus he wold€ taike : 
 
 " Lo yonder is myn owene lady free, 
 
 Or ellgs yonder ther the tentes bee, 
 And thennes cometh this eyr that is so soote, 
 That in my soule I feele it doth me hoote." 
 
 7. Thigbe. Commentators have pointed out that the stories of 
 Thisbe, Dido, and Medea were also told by Chaucer. See "Le- 
 gend of Good Women," ii, iii, iv. In the case of Thisbe there 
 seems to be reference to Ovid ("Metamorphoses," iv, 55 ff.), per- 
 haps known to Shakspere in Golding's translation, as well as to 
 Chaucer, who, however, provided for the moonlight : 
 
 For hy the moone she sangh yt wel withalle. 
 
 It is worth noting, in regard to Shakspere's knowledge of Chau- 
 cer, that the latter was by no means, as now, the exclusive prop- 
 erty of scholars and scholarly minded people. — OWtrip. " And 
 to the tree she gooth a ful goode paas." — Chaucer. 
 
 10. Dido. The truth seems to be, says Mr. Hunter, — see Vari- 
 orum, p. 239, — "that Shakespeare has transferred to Dido what 
 he found in Chaucer's ' Legend ' concerning Ariadne " : 
 
 And to the stronde barefote f aste she wente, 
 No man she sawe, and yet shone the mone. 
 And hye upon a rokke she wentg sone. 
 And saw his bargS saylyng in the see . . . 
 Hir kerchef e on a polg styked she 
 AscauncS that he shulde hyt wel ysee. 
 
 11. "If a hyphen be needed at all, it should connect ' wilde ' 
 and 'sea.'" — Dr. Furness. 
 
 Waft = ' ' wafted, " waved, beckoned. — Note the cadence of this 
 and the preceding line. There is cadence of this sort in " Co- 
 mus." Compare with the latter, Milton's blank verse in "Paradise 
 Lost," and with the present passage compare the verse of the great 
 tragedies. 
 
 13. Medea. Clarendon notes that this is from Ovid's " Meta- 
 morphoses," vii ; and that Gower, in his " Confessio Aman- 
 
Act v.] notes 143 
 
 gift of flowers, po^ {— poesy) came to meau a nosegay. Arber 
 ("English Garner," i, 611 fE.) gives a list of "Love Posies, "from a 
 MS. " written about 1596." — ITiope to see You yield to me; Con- 
 tinue ycm, For I am true ; This ring is round and hath no end, So is 
 my love.unto my friend — are specimens. 
 
 148. Leave to« not, do not part from me, give me away, — "cut- 
 ler's poetry," instead of some fine amorous sentiment. 
 
 154. Respective, considerate : see I, i, 74. 
 
 160. Scrubbed, stunted, small : Ang.-Sax. acrob, shrub. 
 
 167. Read the line with strong emphasis on riveted, and the 
 metre takes care of itself. 
 
 173. Rule-of -thumb scar.sion fares ill in this case ; but if the 
 verse itself be taken as unit, with rapid movement in Tou give 
 your wife and a cause of grief, with emphasis on too unlcind, the 
 result is satisfactory. 
 
 175. Iioere best, for me were best ; see examples of the change in 
 Jespersen's "Progress in Language," p. 335 ff., and note above 
 to II, viii, 33. 
 
 191 if. The repetition of ring at this climax, with everybody, 
 spectators included, party to the joke, except the lovers and An- 
 tonio, gives a touch of farce and jollity to a situation which must 
 not even hint at tragic danger. Similar passages have been 
 pointed out, — the most remarkable in "Edward III," II, i, 156 
 flE., — " where ' the sun ' ends eight consecutive lines." See Vari- 
 orum, p. 363. 
 
 197. Virtue = power. Cf the virtuous ring (magical power) in 
 Milton's " II Penseroso," 113. 
 
 199. "Your honor involved in the safe-keeping of the ring " 
 (Clarendon). Contain here = retain. Note the infinitive. 
 
 308. Lacked modesty [to such an extent] as to urge [= "de- 
 mand" ; cf. IV, i, 313] a thing held as sacred. 
 
 208. Of course. Doctor of Civil Law. 
 
 218. This "kenning," of which Shakspere is fond, was 
 quaintly used — mainly for the sun — by Anglo-Saxon poets : 
 God^s candle, Jieaven-candle, world-candle, day-candle, joy-candle of 
 man ; in one instance, however, a star is called heaven-candle. 
 
 285. Double, full of duplicity. 
 
 359. Wealth, weal, prosperity. 
 
 360. Which refers to the lending, not to wealth. 
 
144 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act V. 
 
 279. Your rich argosies are unexpectedly come to port. 
 
 288. Gf. Ill, -ii, 157. 
 
 298 ff. See Allen's explanation, "Variorum, p. 267 : "You are 
 not satisfied [but would like to know of these events] at full." 
 
 300. Inter' gatoriet. See Clarendon's quotation from Lord Camp- 
 bell : "In the Court of Queen's Bench, when a complaint is made 
 against a person for a 'contempt,' the practice is that before 
 sentence is finally pronounced he is sent into the Crown Oflice, 
 and being there 'charged upon interrogatories,' he is made to 
 swear that he will answer all things faithfully." 
 
Act v.] notes I43 
 
 gift of flowers, posy (= poesy) came to mean a nosegaj^. Arber 
 ("English Garner," i, 611 fi.) gives a list of "Love Posies," from a 
 MS. " written about 1596." — I hope to see Ton yield to me; Con- 
 tinue you, For lam true; This ring is round and hath no end, So is 
 my love unto my friend — are specimens. 
 
 148. Leave me not, do not part from me, give me away, — "cut- 
 ler's poetry," instead of some fine amorous sentiment. 
 
 154. Bespeetive, considerate : see I, i, 74. 
 
 160. Scrubbed, stunted, small : Aug.-Sax. scrob, shrub. 
 
 167. Read the line with strong emphasis on riveted, and the 
 metre takes care of itself. 
 
 173. Rule-of-thunib scansion fares ill in this case ; but if the 
 verse itself be taken as unit, with rapid movement in Tou give 
 your wife a.\\A a cause of grief , with emphasis on too unUnd, the 
 result is satisfactory. 
 
 175. I were best, for me were best ; see examples of the change in 
 Jespersen's "Progress in Language," p. 335 fE., and note above 
 to II, viii, 33. 
 
 191 ff. The repetition of ring at this climax, with everybody, 
 spectators included, party to the joke, except the lovers and An- 
 tonio, gives a toucli of farce and jollity to a situation which must 
 not even hint at tragic danger. Similar passages have been 
 pointed out, — the most remarkable in "Edward III," II, i, 156 
 ff., — " where ' the sun ' ends eight consecutive lines." See Vari- 
 orum, p. 363. 
 
 197. Virtue = power. Cf the virtuous ring (magical power) in 
 Milton's " II Penseroso," 113. 
 
 199. ' ' Your honor involved in the safe-keeping of the ring " 
 (Clarendon). Contain here = retain. Note the infinitive. 
 
 303. Lacked modesty [to such an extent] as to urge [= "de- 
 mand " ; ef. IV, i, 313] a tiling held as sacred. 
 
 308. Of course. Doctor of Civil Law. 
 
 318. This "kenning," of which Shakspere is fond, was 
 quaintly used — mainly for the sun — by Anglo-Saxon poets : 
 Ood''s candle, heaveii-candle, world-candle, day-candle, joy-candle of 
 man ; in one instauce, however, a star is called heaven-candle. 
 
 285. Double, full of duplicity. 
 
 359. Wealth, weal, prosperity. 
 
 360. Wliiich refers to tlie lending, not to wealth. 
 
144 MERCHANT OF VENICE [Act V. 
 
 279. Your rich argosies are unexpectedly come to port. 
 
 288. Cf. Ill, ii, 157. 
 
 298 fE. See Allen's explanation, Variorum, p. 267 : "You are 
 not satisfied [but would like to know of these events] at full." 
 
 300. Inter^gatories. See Clarendon's quotation from Lord Camp- 
 bell : "In the Court of Queen's Bench, when a complaint is made 
 against a person for a ' contempt,' the practice is that before 
 sentence is finally pronounced he is sent into the Crown Office, 
 and being there 'charged upon interrogatories,' he is made to 
 swear that he will answer all things faithfully." 
 
Longmans' English Classics. 
 
LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
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 Professor of Rhetoric and English Composition in Columbia College. 
 
 TKis series is designed for use in secondary schools 
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 Each Volume contains full Notes, Introductions, Bibliographies,^ 
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LO.VG.VAjVS- ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 Books Prescribed for i8g6 — Continued. 
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 Columbia College. With Portrait of Defoe. [Ready. 
 
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 Professor of English in Harvard University. With Frontispiece. 
 
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 Addresses relating to the Revolution. Edited, with introduction 
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 Edited, with introductions and notes, by William P. Trent, A.M., 
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LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
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LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 Irving's ' Tales of a Traveller.' 
 
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LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
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 Books Prescribed for the i8gy Examinations. 
 
 FOR READING. 
 
 Shakspere's As You Like It. With an introduction by Barrett 
 Wendell, A.B., Assistant Professor of English in Harvard 
 University, and notes by William Lyon Phelps, Ph.D., Instructor 
 in English Literature in Yale University. \_Ready. 
 
 Defoe's History of the Plague in London. Edited, with 
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 Irving's Tales of a Traveller. With an introduction by 
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 atory notes by the genera! editor of the series. With Portrait 
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8 LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 Books Prescribed for i8g7 — Continued. 
 
 George Eliot's Silas Marner. Edited, with introduction and 
 notes, by Robert Herrick, A.B., Assistant Professor of Riietoric 
 in tlie University of Chicago. With Portrait of George EHot. 
 
 [Ready, 
 
 FOR STUDY. 
 
 Shakspere's Merchant of Venice. Edited, with introduction 
 and notes, by Francis B. Gummere, Ph.D., Professor of English 
 in Haverford College; Member of the Conference on English 
 of the National Committee of Ten. With Portrait. 
 
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 Burke's Speech on Conciliation with America. Edited, 
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 Macaulay's Life of Samuel Johnson. Edited, with intro- 
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 [In the Press. 
 
 Books Prescribed for the 1898 Examinations. 
 
 FOR READING. 
 
 Milton's Paradise Lost. Books L and IL Edited, with 
 introduction and notes, by Edward Everett Hale, Jr., Ph.D., 
 Professor of Rhetoric and Logic in Union College. With 
 Portrait of Milton. [Preparing. 
 
 Pope's Homer's Iliad. Books I., VL, XXII., and XXIV. 
 Edited, with introduction and notes, by WiUiam H. Maxwell, 
 A.M., Superintendent of Public Instruction, Brooklyn, N. Y. ; 
 Chairman National Committee of Fifteen ; Member of English 
 Conference of the National Committee of Ten. With Portrait 
 of Pope. [Preparing. 
 
LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 Books Prescribed for i8g8 — Continued. 
 
 The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers, from "The Spectator." 
 Edited, with introduction and notes, by D. O. S. Lowell, A.M., 
 of the Roxbury Latin School, Roxbury, Mass. With Portrait 
 of Addison. [/« the Press. 
 
 Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield. Edited, with intro- 
 duction and notes, by Mary A. Jordan, A.M., Professor of 
 Rhetoric and Old English in Smith College. With Portrait of 
 Goldsmith. \Preparing. 
 
 Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Edited, 
 with introduction and notes, by Herbert Bates, A.B., Instructor 
 in English in the University of Nebraska. With Portrait of 
 Coleridge. [Ready. 
 
 Southey's Life of Nelson. Edited, with introduction and 
 notes, by Edwin L. Miller, A.M., of the Englewood High 
 School, Illinois. With Portrait of Nelson. [In the Press, 
 
 Carlyle's Essay on Burns. Edited, with introduction and 
 notes, by Wilson Farrand, A.M., Associate Principal of the 
 Newark Academy, Newark, N. J. With Portrait of Burns. 
 
 [In the Press. 
 
 FOR STUDY. 
 
 Shakspere's Macbeth. Edited, with introduction and notes, 
 by John Matthews Manly, Ph.D., Professor of the English 
 Language in Brown University. With Portrait. [Preparing. 
 
 Burke's Speech on Conciliation with America. Edited, 
 with introduction and notes, by Albert S. Cook, Ph.D., Pro- 
 fessor of the English Language and Literature in Yale 
 University. With Portrait of Burke. [Preparing. 
 
 De Ouincey's Flight of a Tartar Tribe. Edited, with intro- 
 duction and notes, by Charles Sears Baldwin, Ph.D., Instructor 
 in Rhetoric in Yale University. With Portrait of De Quincey. 
 [Preparing. 
 
 %* Other Volumes to follow. 
 
LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS 
 
 It has been the aim of the publishers to secure editors 
 of high reputation for scholarship, experience, and skill, 
 and to provide a series thoroughly adapted, by uniformity 
 of plan and thoroughness of execution, to present educa- 
 tional needs. The chief distinguishing features of the 
 series are the following : 
 
 I. Each volume contains full "Suggestions for Teach- 
 ers and Students," "with bibliographies, and, in many 
 cases, lists of topics recommended for further reading or 
 study, subjects for themes and compositions, specimen 
 examination papers, etc. It is therefore hoped that the 
 series will contribute largely to the working out of sound 
 methods in teaching English. 
 
 2. The works prescribed for reading are treated, in every 
 case, as literature, not as texts for narrow linguistic study, 
 and edited with a view to interesting the student in the 
 book in question both in itself and as representative of a 
 literary type or of a period of literature, and of leading 
 him on to read other standard works of the same age or 
 kind understandingly and appreciatively. 
 
 3. These editions are not issued anonymously, nor are 
 they hackwork, — the result of mere compilation. They 
 are the original work of scholars and men of letters who 
 are conversant with the topics of which they treat. 
 
 4. Colleges and preparatory schools are both repre- 
 sented in the list of editors (the preparatory schools more 
 prominently in the lists for 1897 and 1898), and it is in- 
 tended that the series shall exemplify the ripest methods 
 of American scholars for the teaching of English — the 
 result in some cases of years of actual experience in 
 secondary school work, and, in others, the formulation of 
 the experience acquired by professors who observe care- 
 fully the needs of students who present themselves for 
 admission to college. 
 
 5. The volumes are uniform in size and style, are well 
 printed and bound, and constitute a well-edited set of 
 standard works, fit for permanent use and possession — a 
 nucleus for a library of English literature. 
 
LONGMANS, GREEN, 6- CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 ENGLISH HISTORY IN SHAKESPEARE'S 
 
 PLAYS. 
 
 By Beverley E. Warner, M.A. With Bibliography, Chronological 
 Tables, and Index. Crown 8vo, 331 pages, $1.75. 
 
 This volume had its origin in a course of lectures on the study of history as 
 ilhistrated in the plays of Shakespeare. The lectures have been recast, pruned, 
 and amplified, and much machinery has been added in the way of tables of 
 contents, bibliography, chronological tables, and index. With such helps it 
 is hoped that this book may effect a working partnership between the chronicle 
 of the formal historian and the epic of the dramatic poet. They are addressed 
 especially to those readers and students of tnglish History who may not 
 have discovered what an aid to the understanding of certain important phases 
 of England's national development lies in these historical plays, which cover a 
 period of three hundred years— from King John and Magna Charta to Henry 
 VIII. and the Reformation. 
 
 "This unique book should be generally and carefully read. As a commen- 
 tary upon the history in Shakespeare's plays, it is highly interesting ; while the 
 views of English History, shown through the medium of the great poet, are 
 admirable. After reading the work, one should be a far more appreciative 
 student of English History, and a more interested reader of Shakespeare." 
 
 - — Public Opinion, New York. 
 
 " The work has been well done, and the volume will be a valuable aid to 
 students, particularly the younger ones, and to the average reader, in connec- 
 tion with this interesting group of plays." — Literary World, Boston. 
 
 " Mr. Warner's book is thoroughly interesting, and really valuable. It calls 
 special attention to the genuine historical value of the plays which he examines, 
 whether they be genuine histories or not.'' — Tke Churchman, 
 
 " To read Mr. Warner's learned and interesting pages is to come back to 
 Shakespeare with a new appieciation."- — Booh Buyer. 
 
 " Mr. Warner's book is full of suggestion gathered not merely from 
 Shakespeare, but from the chronicles which he used and from the efforts of 
 modern historians to restore the life of the period to which the plays relate." 
 
 ■ — Tribune, New York. 
 
 "We take much pleasure in commending this volume to readers and stu- 
 dents of the great dramatist. It presents in a systematic, intelhgent, and verv 
 useful order a large amount of critical information as to the historical plays 
 which adds enormously to their interest, and which without this aid can be 
 obtained only at the cost of much searching of publications not easy to be had, 
 such as the ' New Shakespeare Society's Transactions,' or T. P. Courtenay'o 
 ' Commentaries on the Historical Plays of Shakespeare.' This labor and much 
 more in the way of the direct study of the dramas, and of the obscure and diffi- 
 cult history with which they are concerned, has been done by the author of this 
 volume, and its results presented in a clear, condensed, and highly interesting 
 form, which we have found to be so satisfactory as to be practically indispensa- 
 ble in a small working Shakespearian library." — Independent, New York. 
 
 " What the chronicle plays of Shakespeare have accomplished as a contribu- 
 tion to the understanding of EngUsh history is clearly set forth in Mr. Warner's 
 solidly excellent book." — Chatauquan. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 15 East Sixteenth Street, New York. 
 
LONGMANS, GREEN, &= CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 PLAYS OF SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Falcon Edition. 
 
 The following volumes, each with Introduction, Notes, and Glossary, are 
 now ready. Price 35 cents each play : 
 
 Julius Caesar. By H. C. Seech- 
 ing, Rector of Yattendon, and late 
 Exhibitioner of Balliol College, 
 Oxford. 
 
 The Merchant of Venice, 
 
 C. Beeching. 
 King Henry IV. Part 
 
 Oliver Elton, late Scholar 
 
 Corpus Christi College, Oxford. 
 
 King Henry IV. Part II. By A. 
 
 D. INNES, M.A. , late Scholar of 
 Oriel College, Oxford. 
 
 King Henry V. By A. D. Innes, 
 
 M.A. 
 King John. By Oliver Elton. 
 
 By H. 
 
 By 
 
 of 
 
 Twelfth Night. By H. Howard 
 Crawley. 
 
 King Richard III. By W. H. 
 Payne Smith, M.A., Senior Stu- 
 dent of Christ Church, Oxford ; and 
 Assistant Master at Rugby School. 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing. By 
 A. W. Verity, M.A., late Scholar 
 of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 
 Coriolanus. By H. C. Beeching. 
 
 Taming of the Shrew. By H, H. 
 Crawley. 
 
 King Richard II. By E. K. 
 Chambers, B.A. 
 
 The Tempest. By A. C. Liddell, 
 M.A. 
 
 *** ^^ Julius CiBsar" is prescribed for the entrance examinations of 1894, 
 " Twelfth iVi^hi" for z^gS, and the " Merchant of Venice" for iSg^, i8gs, and 
 1896, at Harvard and other universities and colleges. 
 
 "The only school edition of Shakespeare's plays, so far as I know, the notes 
 of which are aesthetic rather than linguistic, stimulant rather than dispiriting, is 
 that called 'the Falcon.' From 'The Taming of the Shrew' in this edition, 
 for example, a student could learn the use of the gallery over the stage, and so 
 might get his eyes opened a little to the physical conditions of the theatre un- 
 der Elizabeth — conditions which dominate the form of the Elizabethan drama." 
 — Prof. Brander Matthews, in the Educational Review, April, 1892. 
 
 " The ' Falcon' Edition has earned a reputation for scholarship, taste, and 
 judgment. The notes are in all cases excellent. Everything that is likely to 
 present any difficulty is explained clearly, accurately, and not verbosely ; and 
 familiarity is shown both with the writings of the Elizabethans and with the 
 Shakespearean scholarship of to-day. " — Journal of Education. 
 
 "A particularly pure text, with introductory remarks, glossaries, and notes 
 of an excellence for which this edition is renowned." — Educational Times. 
 
 ■' An edition now well known among teachers and students, and which offers 
 much instruction and enjoyment to the thoughtful reader. The editing is char- 
 acterized by conscientious care, judgment, and skill." — Schoolmaster. 
 
 " Mr. Beeching's Julius Ccesar is not only an excellent school-book, but a 
 model of good Shakespeare editing for all readers ; and his Merchant of Venice 
 is no less." — Academy, 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 15 East Sixteenth Street, New York. 
 
LONGMANS, GREEN, &= CO.' S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 EPOCHS OF AMERICAN HISTORY. 
 
 MESSRS. LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. have the pleasure to state 
 that they are now publishing a short series of books treating of the history 
 of America, under the general title Epochs of American History. The 
 series is under the editorship of Dr. Albert Bushnell Hart, Assistant 
 Professor of History in Harvai-d College, who has also prepared all the maps 
 for the several volumes. Each volume contains about 300 pages, similar in 
 size and style to the page of the volumes in Messrs. Longmans' series, 
 ' Epochs of Modern History, ' with full marginal analysis, working bibliogia- 
 phies, maps, and index. The volumes are issued separately, and each is 
 complete in itself. The volumes now ready provide a continuous history 
 of the United States from the foundation of the Colonies to the present 
 time, suited to and intended for class use as well as for general reading and 
 reference. 
 
 *„* The volumes of this series already issued have been adopted for use as text- 
 hooks in nearly all the leading Colleges and in many /formal Schools and other 
 institutions. A prospectus, showing Contents and scope of each volujne, specimen 
 pages, etc., will be sent on application to the Publishers. 
 
 I. THE COLONIES, 1492-1750. 
 
 By Reuben Gold Thwaites, Secretary of the State Historical Society of 
 Wisconsin; author of " Historic Waterways," etc. With four colored 
 maps. pp. xviii.-30i. Cloth. $1.25. 
 
 CORNELL university. 
 " I beg leave to acknowledge your courtesy in sending me a copy of the first 
 volume in the series of Epochs of American History,' which I have read with 
 great interest and satisfaction. I am pleased, as everyone must be, with the 
 mechanical execution of the book, with the maps, and with the fresh and valua- 
 ble 'Suggestions' and 'References.' .... The work itself appears to 
 me to be quite remarkable for its comprehensiveness, and it presents a vast 
 array of subjects in a way that is admirably fair, clear and orderly." — Professor 
 Moses Coit Tyler, Ithaca, N. Y. 
 
 WILLIAMS COLLEGE. 
 " It is just the book needed for college students, not too brief to be uninter- 
 esting, admirable in its plan, and well furnished with references to accessible 
 authorities." — Professor Richard A. Rice, Williamstown, Mass. 
 
 VASSAR college. 
 " Perhaps the best recommendation of ' Thwaites' American Colonies ' is 
 the fact that the day after it was received I ordered copies for class-room use. 
 The book is admirable. "—Professor Lucy M. Salmon, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. 
 
 "All that could be desired. This volume is more like a fair treatment of the 
 whole subject of the colonies than any work of the sort yet produced.'' 
 
 — The Critic. 
 
 " The subject is virtually a fresh one as approached by Mr. Thwaites. It is 
 a pleasure to call especial attention to some most helpful bibliographical notes 
 provided at the head of each chapter.'' — The Nation. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 F'^h Avenue, New York. 
 
LONGMANS, GREEN, &= CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 EPOCHS OF AMERICAN HISTORY. 
 
 II. FORMATION OF THE UNION, 1750^-1829. 
 
 By Albert Bushnell Hart, Ph.D. Assistant Professor of History in 
 Harvard University, Member of tlie Massachusetts Historical Society, 
 Author of "Introduction to the Study of Federal Government," 
 "Epoch Maps," etc. With five colored maps. pp. XX.-278. Cloth. 
 $1.25. 
 
 The second volume of the Epochs of American History aims to follow 
 out the principles laid down for "The Colonies," — the study of causes 
 rather than of events, the development of the American nation out of scattered 
 and inharmonious colonies. The throwing oJf of English control, the growth 
 out of narrow political conditions, the struggle against foreign domination, and 
 the extension of popular government, are all parts of the uninterrupted process 
 of the Formation of the Union. 
 
 LELAND STANFORD JR. UNIVERSITY. 
 
 " The large and sweeping treatment of the subject, which shows the true re- 
 lations of the events preceding and following the revolution, to the revolution 
 itself, is a real addition to the literature of the subject ; while the bibliography 
 prefixed to each chapter, adds incalculably to the value of the work. " — Mary 
 Sheldon Barnes, Palo Alto, Cal. 
 
 " It is a careful and conscientious study of the period and its events, and 
 should find a place among the text-books of our public schools. " 
 
 — Boston Transcript. 
 
 " Professor Hart has compressed a vast deal of information into his volume, 
 and makes many things most clear and striking. His maps, showing the terri- 
 torial growth of the United States, are extremely interesting." 
 
 — A^ew York Times. 
 
 " . . The causes of the Revolution are clearly and cleverly condensed into 
 a few pages. . . The maps in the work are singularly useful even to adults. 
 There are five of these, which are alone worth the price of the volume." 
 
 — Magazine of American History. 
 
 " The formation period of our nation is treated with much care and with 
 great precision. Each chapter is prefaced with copious references to authori- 
 ties, which are valuable to the student who desires to pursue his reading more 
 extensively. There are five valuable maps showing the growth of our country 
 by successive stages and repeated acquisition of territory." 
 
 — Boston Advertiser. 
 
 " Dr. Hart is not only a "master of the art of condensation, . . . he is 
 what is even of greater importance, an interpreter of history. He perceives 
 the logic of historic events ; hence, in his condensation, he does not neglect 
 proportion, and more than once he gives the student valuable clues to the 
 solution of historical problems." — Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 " A valuable volume of a valuable series. The author has written with a 
 full knowledge of his subject, and we have little to say except in praise." 
 
 — English Historical Review, 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 Fifth Avenue, New York. 
 
LONGMANS, GREEN, &= CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 EPOCHS OF AMERICAN HISTORY. 
 
 III. DIVISION AND RE-UNION, 1829-1889. 
 
 By WoODROW Wilson, Ph.D., LL.D., Professor of Jurisprudence in 
 
 Princeton College ; Author of "Congressional Government," "The 
 
 State — Elements of Historical and Practical Politics," etc., etc. With 
 
 five colored Maps. 346 pages. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 "We regret that vire have not space for more quotations from this uncom 
 monly strong, impartial, interesting book. Giving only enough facts to 
 elucidate the matter discussed, it omits no important questions. It furnishes 
 the reader clear-cut views of the right and the wrong of them all. It gives ad- 
 mirable pen-portraits of the great personages of the period with as much free- 
 dom from bias, and as much pains to be just, as if the author were delineating 
 Pericles, or Alcibiades, Sulla, or Csesar. Dr. Wilson has earned the gratitude of 
 seekers after truth by his masterly production."— iV. C. University Magazine. 
 
 " This admirable little volume is one of the few books which nearly meet our 
 ideal of history. It is causal history in the truest sense, tracing the workings of 
 latent influences and far-reaching conditions of their outcome in strikini; tact, 
 yet the whole current of events is kept in view, and the great personalities of 
 the time, the nerve-centers of history, live intensely and in due proportion in 
 these pages. We do not know the equal of this book for a brief and trust- 
 worthy, and, at the same time, a brilliantly written and sufficient history of these 
 sixty years. We heartily commend it, not only for general reading, but as an 
 admirable text-book." — Post- Graduate and Wooster Quarterly. 
 
 " Considered as a general history of the United States from 1829 to 1889, 
 his book is marked by excellent sense of proportion, extensive knowledge, im- 
 partiality of judgment, unusual power of summarizing, and an acute political 
 sense. Few writers can more vividly set forth the views of parties." 
 
 — Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 " Students of United States history may thank Mr. Wilson for an extreme- 
 ly clear and careful rendering of a period very difficult to handle . . . they 
 will find themselves materially aided in easy comprehension of the pohtical 
 situation of the country by the excellent maps." — JV, Y Times. 
 
 " Professor Wilson writes in a clear and forcible style. . . . The bibli- 
 ographical references at the head of each chapter are both well selected and 
 well arranged, and add greatly to the value of the work, which appears to be 
 especially designed for use in instruction in colleges and preparatory schools." 
 
 — Vale Review, 
 
 " It is written in a style admirably clear, vigorous, and attractive, a thorough 
 grasp of the subject is shown, and the development of the theme is lucid and 
 orderly, while the tone is judicial and fair, and the deductions sensible and 
 dispassionate — so far as we can see. . . . It would be difficult to construct 
 a better manual of the subject than this, and it adds greatly to the value of this 
 useful series." — Hartford Courant. 
 
 ". . . One of the most valuable historical works that has appeared in 
 many years. The delicate period of our country's history, with which this 
 work is largely taken up, is treated by the author with an impartiality that is 
 almost unique." — Columbia Law Times. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, St CO., 91-93 Fifth Avenue, New York. 
 
LOiyG MAN'S, green; 6^ CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 ENGLISH HISTORY FOR AMERICANS, 
 
 By Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Author of "Young Folks' His- 
 tory of the United States," etc., and Edward Channing, Assistant 
 Professor of History in Harvard University. With 77 Illustrations, 6 
 Colored Maps, Bibliography, a Chronological Table of Contents, and 
 Index. i2mo. Pp. xxxii-334. Teachers' price, $1.20. 
 
 The name " English History for Americans," which suggests the key-note of 
 this book, is based on the simple fact that it is not the practice of American 
 readers, old or young, to give to English history more than a limited portion of 
 their hours of study. ... It seems clear that such readers will use their 
 time to the best advantage if they devote it mainly to those events in English 
 annals which have had the most direct influence on the history and institutions 
 of their own land. . . . T he authors of this book have therefore boldly 
 ventured to modify in their narrative the accustomed scale of proportion ; while 
 it has been their wish, in the treatment of every detail, to accept the best re- 
 sult of modern English investigation, and especially to avoid all unfair or 
 one-sided judgments. . . . Mxtracts Jrom Author's Preface. 
 
 DR. W. T. HARRIS, U. S. COMMISSIONER OF EDUCATION. 
 
 " I take great pleasure in acknowledging the receipt of the book, and be- 
 lieve it to be the best introduction to English history hitherto made for the use 
 of schools. It is just what is needed in the school and in the family. It is the 
 first history of England that I have seen which gives proper attention to socio- 
 logy and the evolution of political ideas, without neglecting what is picturesque 
 and interesting to the popular taste. The device of placing the four historical 
 maps at the beginning and end deserves special mention for its convenience. 
 Allow me to congratulate you on the publication of so excellent a text-book." 
 
 ROXBURY LATIN SCHOOL. 
 
 *• . . . The most noticeable and commendable feature in the book seems 
 to be its Unity. ... I felt the same reluctance to lay the volume down 
 . . . that one experiences in reading a great play or a well-constructed 
 novel. Several things besides the unity conspire thus seductively to lead the 
 reader on. The page is open and attractive, the chapters are short, the type 
 is large and clear, ihe pictures are well chosen and significant, a surprising 
 number of anecdotes told in a crisp and masterful manner throw valuable side- 
 lights on the main narrative ; the philosophy of history is undeniably there, but 
 sugar-coated, and the graceful style would do credit to a Macaulay. I shall 
 immediately recommend it for use in our school." — Dr. D. O. S. Lowell. 
 
 LAWRENCEVILLE SCHOOL. 
 
 *' In answer to your note of February 23d I beg to say that we have intro- 
 duced your Higginson's English History into our graduating class and are 
 much pleased with it. Therefore whatever endorsement I, as a member of the 
 Committee of Ten, could give the book has already been given by my action 
 in placing it in our classes." — ^James C. Mackenzie, Lawrenceville, N. J. 
 
 ANN ARBOR HIGH SCHOOL. 
 
 " It seems to me the book will do for English history in this country what 
 the ' Young Folks' History of the United States ' has done for the history of our 
 own country — an^ I consider this high praise." 
 
 — T. G. Pattengill, Ann Arbor, Mich. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 Fifth Avenue, New York. 
 
LONGMANS, GREEN, fir' CO:S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 A STUDENT'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, from 
 the Earliest Times to 1885. 
 
 By Samuel Rawson Gardiner, M.A., LL.D., Fellow of All Souls 
 College, Oxfiird, etc.; Author of "The History of England from the 
 Accession of James I. to 1642," etc. Illustrated under the superintend- 
 ence of Mr. W. H. St. John Hope, Assistant Secretary of the Society 
 of Antiquaries, and with the assistance in the choice of Portraits of 
 Mr. George Scharf, C.B., F.S.A., who is recognized as the highest 
 authority on the subject. In one Volume, with 378 Illustrations and 
 full Index. Crown 8vo, cloth, plain, $3.00. 
 
 The book is also published in three Volumes {each with Index and 
 Table of Contents) as follows : 
 
 VOLUME I.— B.C. 5S-A.D. 1509. 410 pp. With 173 Illustrations and Index. 
 
 Crown 8vo, $1.30. 
 VOLUME II.— A.D. 1509-1689. 332 pp. With 96 Illustrations and Index. 
 
 Crown 8vo, $1.20. 
 VOLUME III.— A.D. 1689-1885. 374 pp. With 109 Illustrations and Index. 
 
 Crown 8vo, $1.20. 
 
 V Gardiner's "Student's History of England," throngh Fart IX. (to 
 1789), is recommended by HABTABD UNIVESSITY as indicating the 
 requirements for admission in this subject ; and the £NIIB£ work is made 
 the basis for English history study in the University. 
 
 YALE UNIVERSITY. 
 
 " Gardiner's ' Student's History of England ' seems to me an admirable 
 short history.'" — Prot C. H. Smith, New Haven, Conn. 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE, HARTFORD. 
 
 " It is, in my opinion, by far the best advanced school history of England 
 that I have ever seen. It is clear, concise, and scientific, and, at the same time, 
 attractive and interesting. The illustrations are very good and a valuable 
 addition to the book, as they are not mere pretty pictures, but of real historical 
 and archaeological interest." — Prof. Henry Ferguson. 
 
 "A unique feature consists of the very numerous illustrations. They 
 throw light on almost every phase of English life in all ages. . . . Never, 
 perhaps, in such a treatise has pictorial illustration been used with so good 
 effect The alert teacher will find here ample material for useful lessons by 
 leading the pupil to draw the proper inferences and make the proper interpre- 
 tations and comparisons. . . . The style is compact, vigorous, anil inter- 
 esting. There is no lack of precision ; and, in the selection of the details, the 
 hand of the scholar thoroughly conversant with the source and with the results 
 of recent criticism is plainly revealed." — The Nation, N. Y. 
 
 " . . . It is illustrated by pictures of real value ; and when accompanied 
 by the companion ' Atlas of English History' is all that need be desired for its 
 special purpose." — The Churchman, N. Y. 
 
 *#*^ prospectus and specimen pages of Gar diner'' s " Student's History 
 of England" will be sent free on application to the publishers. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 15 East Sixteenth Street, New York. 
 
LONGMANS, GREEN. &> CO.' S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 LONGMANS' SCHOOL GRAMMAR. 
 
 By David Salmon. Part I., Parts of Speech ; Part II., Classification 
 
 and Inflection ; Part III., Analysis of Sentences ; Part IV., History 
 
 and Derivation. With Notes for Teachers and Index. New Edition, 
 
 Revised. With Preface by E. A. Allen, Professor of English in the 
 
 University of Missouri. i2mo. 272 pages. 75 cents. 
 
 ** , . . One of the best working grammars we have ever seen, and this 
 applies to all its parts. It is excellently arranged and perfectly graded. Part 
 IV., on History and Derivation, is as beautiful and interesting as it is valuable 
 — but this might be said of the whole book." — New York 2'eacher. 
 
 " The Grammar deserves to supersede all others with which we are ac- 
 quainted. " — N. Y. Nation, July 2, 1891. 
 
 PREFACE TO AMERICAN EDITION. 
 
 It seems to be generally conceded that English grammar is worse taught 
 and less understood than any other subject in the school course. This is, 
 doubtless, largely due to the kind of text-books used, which, for the most part, 
 require methods that violate the laws of pedagogy as well as of language. 
 There are, however, two or three English grammars that are admirable com- 
 mentaries on the facts of the language, but, written from the point of view of 
 the scholar rather than of the learner, they fail to awaken any interest in the 
 subject, and hence are not serviceable for the class-room. 
 
 My attention was first called to Longmans' School Grammar by a favorable 
 notice of it in the Nation. In hope of finding an answer to the inquiry of 
 numerous teachers for " the best school grammar," I sent to the Publishers for 
 a copy. An examination of the work, so far from resulting in the usual dis- 
 appointment, left the impression that a successful text-book in a field strewn 
 with failures' had at last been produced. For the practical test of the class- 
 room, I placed it in the hands of an accomplished grammarian, who had tried 
 several of the best grammars published, and he declares the results to be most 
 satisfactory. 
 
 The author's simplicity of method, the clear statement of facts, the orderly 
 arrangement, the wise restraint, manifest on every page, reveal the scholar and 
 practical teacher. No one who had not mastered the language in its early his- 
 torical development could have prepared a school grammar so free from sense- 
 less rules and endless details. The most striking feature, minimum of precept, 
 maximum of example, will commend itself to all teachers who follow rational 
 methods. In this edition, the Publishers have adapted the illustrative sentences 
 to the ready comprehension of American pupils, and I take pleasure in recom- 
 mending the book, in behalf of our mother tongue, to the teachers of our Pub- 
 lic and Private Schools. 
 
 Edward A Allbn. 
 University of Missouri, May, 1891. 
 1 
 
 MR. HALE'S school, BOSTON. 
 
 •' I have used your Grammar and Composition during the last year in my 
 school, and like them both very much indeed. They are the best books of the 
 kind I have ever seen, and supply a want I have felt for a good many years." — 
 Albert Hale, Boston, Mass. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 15 East Sixteenth Street, New York, 
 
LONGMANS, GREEN, &• COrS PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 LONGMANS' SCHOOL GRAMMAR.— 0P//V70A^5'. 
 girls' high school, boston, mass. 
 
 '' When you put Longmans' School Grammar in my hands, some year or 
 two ago, I used it a little while with a boy of nine years, with perfect satisfac- 
 tion and approval. The exigencies of the boy's school arrangements inter- 
 cepted that course in grammar and caused the book to be laid aside. To-day 
 I have taken the book and have examined it all, from cover to cover. It is 
 simply a perfect grammar. Its beginnings are made with utmost gentleness 
 and reasonableness, and it goes at least quite as far as in any portion of our 
 public schools course it is, for the present, desirable to think of going. The 
 author has adjusted his book to the very best conceivable methods of teaching, 
 and goes hand in hand with the instructor as a guide and a help. Grammar 
 should, so taught, become a pleasure to teacher and pupil. Especially do I 
 relish the author's pages of ' Notes for Teachers,' at the end of the book. The 
 man who could write these notes should enlarge them into a monograph on the 
 teaching of English Grammar. He would, thereby, add a valuable contribu- 
 tion to our stock of available pedagogic helps. I must add in closing, that 
 while the book in question has, of course, but small occasion to touch disputed 
 points of English Grammar, it never incurs the censure that school grammars 
 are almost sure to deserve, of insufficient acquaintance with modern linguistic 
 science. In short, the writer has shown himself scientifically, as well as peda- 
 gogicaUy, altogether competent for his task." 
 
 — Principal Samuel Thurbeh. 
 
 high school, fort wayne, ind. 
 
 " . . . . It is not often that one has occasion to be enthusiastic over a 
 school-book, especially over an English Grammar, but out of pure enthusiasm, 
 I write to express my grateful appreciation of this one. It is, without exception, 
 the best English Grammar that I have ever seen for children from twelve to 
 fifteen years of age. It is excellent in matter and method. Every page shows 
 the hand of a wise and skilful teacher. The author has been content to present 
 the facts of English Grammar in a way intelligible to children. The book is so 
 intelligible and so interesting from start to finish that only the genius of dulness 
 can make it dry. There are no definitions inconsistent with the facts of our 
 language, no facts at war with the definitions. There are other grammars that 
 are more ''complete " and as correct in teaching, but not one to be compared 
 with it in adaptation to the needs of young students. It will not chloroform the 
 inteUigence." — Principal C. T. Lane. 
 
 HIGH SCHOOL, MINOOKA, ILL. 
 
 " We introduced your School Grammar into our schools the first of this 
 term, and are highly satisfied with the results. In my judgment there is no 
 better work extant for the class of pupils for which it is designed." 
 
 — Principal E. F. Adams. 
 
 NEWARK academy, NEWARK, N. J. 
 
 " We are using with much satisfaction your Longmans' School Grammar, 
 adopted for use in our classes over a year since. Its strong points are simplic- 
 ity of arrangement, and abundance of examples for practice. In these par- 
 ticulars I know of no other book equal to it." — Dr. S. A. Farrand. 
 
 *^ A Prosjiectus showin^^ contents and specimen pages may be had of the Pub- 
 lishers. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 15 East Sixteenth Street, New York. 
 
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