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 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
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GENERAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 SKETCH OF THE POET S LIFE. 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was baptised in the parish church of 
 Stratford-oxi-Avon, Warwiclcshire, April 26th, 1564. The day 
 of his birth is not positively known, but the general custom then was 
 to baptise infants at tliree days old, and the custom is justly presumeil 
 to have been followed in this instance. Accordingly the 23d of April is 
 agreed upon everywhere throughout the English-speaking world as the 
 Poet's birthday, and is often celebrated as such with appropriate fes- 
 tivities. His father was John Shakespeare, a well-reputed citizen of 
 Stratford, who held, successively, various local offices, closing with 
 those of Mayor of the town and Head-Alderman. His mother was 
 Mary, youngest daughter of Robert Arden, a man of good landed estate, 
 who lived at Wilmdcote, some three miles from Stratford. 
 
 Nothing further is directly known of Shakespeare till his marriage, 
 which took place in November, 1582, when he was in his nineteenth 
 year. The bride was Anne, daughter of Richard Hathaway, a yeo- 
 man living at Shottery, which was a village near Stratford, and belong- 
 ing to the same parish. The date of her baptism is not known; but 
 the baptismal register of Stratford did not begin till 1558. She died 
 August 6th, 1623, and the inscription on her monument gives her a^e 
 as sixty-seven years ; so that her birth must have been in 1656, some 
 eight years before that of her husband. Their first child, Susanna, 
 was baptised May 26th, 1583. Two more children, twins, were chris- 
 tened Hamnet and Judith, on the 2d of February, 1885, the Poet then 
 being nearly twenty-one years old. 
 
 We have no certain knowledge as to when or why Shakespeare 
 became an actor. At the last-named date, his father, after some years 
 of^ thrift, had evidently sufTered a considerable decline of fortune. 
 Perhaps this was one reason of his leaving Stratford. Another reason 
 may have been, that, as tradition gives it, he engaged, along with 
 others, in a rather wild poaching frolic on the grounds of Sir Thomas 
 Lucy, who owned a large estate not far from Stratford ; which act 
 Sir Thomas resented so sharply, that Shakespeare thought it best to 
 quit the place and go to London. But the Drama was then a great 
 and rising institution in England, and of course the dramatic interest 
 had its centre in tlie metropolis. There were various companies of 
 players in London, who used, at certain seasons, to go about the coun- 
 try, and perform in towns and villages. Stratford was often visited 
 by such companies during the Poet's boyhood, and some of the play- 
 ers appear to have been natives of that section. In particular, the 
 company that he afterwards belonged to performed there repeatedly 
 while he was just about the right age to catch the spirit from them. 
 
 Shakespeare probably left Stratford in 1586 or thereabouts. Be 
 that as it may, the next positive information we have of him is from 
 a pamphlet written in 1592 by Robert Greene, a poor profligate who 
 was then dying from the effects of his vices. Greene, who had him- 
 self written a good deal for the stage, there squibs some one as 
 being, "in his own conceit, the only Shake-scene in a country." 
 There is no doubt that tliis refers to Shakespeare ; and some of the 
 terms applied to the Shake-scene clearly infer that the Poet was already 
 
14 GENEKAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 getting to be well known as a writer of plays. After Greene's death, 
 his pamphlet was given to the public by one Henry Cliettie, who, on 
 being remonstrated with by tlie persons assailed, published an apology, 
 in which he expresses regret for the attack on Shakespeare, adding, 
 " because myself have seen his demeanour no less civil than he excel- 
 lent in the quality he professes; besides, divers of worship have re- 
 ported his uprightness of dealing, which argues his jionesty, and his 
 facetious grace in writing, that approves his art." 
 
 Our next authentic notice of Sliakespeare is by the publication of 
 his Venus and Adonis, in 1593. This poem was dedicated to Henry 
 Wriothesly, Earl of Southampton, who was among the finest young 
 noblemen of that time ; and the language of the dedication is such as 
 the Poet would hardly have used but to a warm personal friend. The 
 following year, 1594, he published his Imcrece, dedicating it to the 
 same nobleman, in still warmer terms of address, and indirectly ac- 
 knowledging important obhgations to him. The same year Spenser 
 wrote his Colin Clout's Come Home again, in which we have ,the fol- 
 lowing, clearly referring to Shakespeare : 
 
 "And there, though last not least, is ^tion : 
 A gentler Shepherd may nowhere be found, 
 "Whose Muse, full of high thought's invention, 
 Votk like himself keroLcaliy sound." 
 
 This was Spenser's delicate way of suggesting the Poet's name. Ben 
 Jonson has a like allusion in his lines, — " To the Memory of my be- 
 loved Mr. William Shakespeare : " 
 
 *' In each of which he seems to shake a lance. 
 As brandish'd at the eyes of Ignorance." 
 
 All which may suflSce to show that the Poet was not long in making 
 his way to the favourable regards of some whose good opinion was 
 most to be desired, and whose respect was a strong pledge both of 
 recognized genius and personal worth in the object of it. It is to be 
 noted, however, that the forecited marks of consideration were paid to 
 him altogether as an author, and not as an actor. As an actor it does 
 not appear that he was ever much distinguished ; though some of the 
 parts which tradition reports him to have sustained would naturally 
 infer him to have been at least respectable in that capacity. But it 
 must have been early evident that liis gift looked in another direc- 
 tion ; and his associates could not liave been long in finding his services 
 most useful in the work for which he was specially gifted. 
 
 The dramatic company of whicli Shakespeare was a member were 
 known as " the Lord Chamberlain's Servants." Richard Burbage, 
 the greatest actor of the time, was a member of the same. The com- 
 pany had for some years owned and occupied what was called the 
 Blackfriars Theatre. This building did not afford accommodation 
 enough for their business. So, in December, 1593, the company went 
 about building the Globe Theatre, in which Shakespeare is known to 
 have been a considerable owner. And the obligations which I have 
 spoken of his being under to Southampton were probably on account 
 of some generous aid which this nobleman rendered him towards that 
 enterprise. Tradition tells us that the Earl gave him a thousand 
 pounds for the occasion. As this would be nearly equivalent to $30, 
 000 in our time, we may well stick at the alleged amount of the gift ; 
 but the Earl's approved liberality in such matters renders even tliat 
 sum not incredible, and assures us, at all events, tliat the present must 
 have been sometliing decidedly handsome ; though, to be sure, tradi- 
 tion may have overdrawn the amount. 
 
 It does not appear that tlie Poet at any time had his family with 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 him ill London. But it is very evident that his thoughts were a good 
 deal with them at Stratford; for he is soon found saving up money 
 from Ills London business, and investing it in lands and houses in hia 
 native town. Tlie parish register of Stratford notes the death of hia 
 only son Ilamnet, then in his twelfth year, on the 11th of August, 1596. 
 So far as is known, he never had any children but the three already 
 mentioned. 
 
 In the Spring of 1597, he bought of William Underbill the estab- 
 lishment called " New Place," and described as consisting of " one 
 messuage, two barns and two gardens." This, was one of the best dwell- 
 ing-houses in Stratford, and was situate in one of the best parts of 
 the town. From that time forward we have many similar tokens of his 
 thrift, which I must not stay to note in detail. Suffice it to say that 
 for several years he continued to make frequent investments in Strat- 
 ford and the neighbourhood ; thus justifying the statement of Rowe, 
 tliat " he had the good fortune to gather an estate equal to his occa- 
 sions ; " and that " the latter part of his life was spent', as all men of 
 good sense will wish theirs may be, in ease, retirement, and the con- 
 versation of his friends." 
 
 None of his plays are known to have been printed till 1597, in 
 which year three of them, King Richard II., King Richard III., and 
 Romeo and Jidiet, came from the press, separately, and in quarto form. 
 Tlie next year, Francis Meres published his Wit's Treasury, in which 
 we have the following : " As Plautus and Seneca are accounted the 
 best for comedy and tragedy among the Latins ; so Shakespeare 
 among the English is the most excellent in both kinds for the stage." 
 The writer then speciiies by title the three plays already named, and 
 also nine others, in confirmation of his judgment. Besides these twelve, 
 several others a,lso are known to have been in being at that time ; and 
 it is all but certain that as many at least as eighteen of the Poet's 
 dramas were written before 1598, when he was thirty-four years old, 
 and had probably been in the theatre about twelve years. 
 
 The Poet seems to have been laudably ambitious of gaining a 
 higher social position than that to which he was born. So, in 1599 
 he procured fi-om the Herald's College in London a coat of arms in 
 the name of his father. Thus he got his yeoman sire dubbed a gen- 
 tleman, doubtless that the honour might be his by inheritance, as he 
 was his father's eldest son. An odd commentary on this, proceeding 
 is -furnished by a passage in King Lear, Act iii. scene 6, where the 
 Pool says to the old King, — "He's a mad yeoman that sees his son a 
 gentleman before him." The Poet's father was buried at Stratford, 
 September 8th, 1601; and thenceforward we find him written down 
 in legal documents as " William Shakespeare, Gentleman." 
 
 King James the First came to the throne of England in March, 1603. 
 On the 17th of May following, he ordered a patent to be issued under 
 the Great Seal, authorizing " our servants, Laurence Fletcher, Wil- 
 liam Shakespeare, Richard Burbage," and six others, to exercise their 
 art in all parts of the kingdoms, " as well for the recreation of our 
 loving subjects as for our solace and pleasure, when we shall think 
 good to see them." By this instrument, the company who had hith- 
 erto been known as the Lord Chamberlain's Servants were taken 
 directly under the royal patronage ; accordingly they were henceforth 
 designated as " the King's Players." 
 
 Whatever may have been his rank as an actor, Shakespeare evi- 
 dently had a strong dislike to the vocation, and was impatient of hia 
 connection with the stage as a player. We have an affecting proof of 
 tills in one of his Sonnets, where he unmistakeably discovers his per- 
 sonal feelings on that point : 
 
16 GENERAL INTEODUCTION. 
 
 " O, for my sal^o do you with Fortune claicle, 
 The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, 
 That did not better for my life provide 
 Than public means which public manners breeds. 
 Thence comes it that my name receives a brand ; 
 And almost thence my nature is subdu'd 
 To what it works in, like the dyer's hand." 
 
 Moreover, as Dyce remarks, "it is evident that Shakespeare never 
 ceased to turn his thoughts towards his birth-place, as tlie spot where 
 he hoped to spend the evening of his days in honourable retirement." 
 It is uncertain at what time he withdrew from the stage. The latest 
 notice we have of liis acting was in 1603, when Ben Jonson's Sejanus 
 was performed at tlie Blackfriars, and one of the parts was sustained 
 by him. The probabiUty is that he ceased to be an actor in tlie 
 course of the next year ; though it Is tolerably certain that he kept 
 up his interest in the aflairs of the company some years longer, and 
 that he continued to write more or less for the stage down to as late 
 a period as 1618. 
 
 The Poet's eldest daughter, Susanna, was married June 5th, 1607, 
 to John Hall, a gentleman, and a medical practitioner at Stratford, and 
 well-reputed as such throughout the county. His first grandchild, 
 Elizabeth Hall, was baptised February 21st, 1608 ; and on the 9th of 
 September ibllowing his mother died. His other daughter, Judith, 
 was married to Thomas Quiney, February 10th, 1616. Quiney was 
 four years younger than his wife, and was a vintner and wine-merr 
 chant at Stratford. 
 
 Perhaps I ought to add that Meres, in the work already quoted, 
 speaks of the Poet's " sugared Sonnets among his private friends." 
 At length, in 1609, these, and such others as the Poet may have 
 written after 1598, were collected, to the number of a hundred and 
 fifty-four, and published. By this time, also, as many as sixteen of 
 his plays, including the three already named, had been issued, some 
 of them repeatedly, in quarto form. 
 
 On the 25th of March, 1616, Shakespeare executed his will. The 
 testator is there said to be " in perfect health and memory ; " never- 
 tlieless he died at New Place on the 23d of April following*; and, two 
 days later, was buried beside the chancel of Stratford church. It is 
 said that " his wife and daughters did earnestly desire to be laid in 
 the same grave with him ;-" and accordingly two of them at les-tt, tte 
 wife and the eldest daughter, were in due time gathered to his side. 
 
 Shakespeare was by no means so little appreciated in his time as 
 later generations have mainly supposed. Besides the passages already 
 cited, we have many other notes of respect and esteem from his 
 -Ontemporaries. No man indeed of that age was held in higher 
 regard for his intellectual gifts; none drew forth more or stronger 
 tributes of applause. Kings, princes, lords, gentlemen, and, what is 
 perhaps still better, common people, all united in paying homage to 
 liis transcendent genius. And from the scattered notices of his con- 
 temporaries, we get, also, a pretty complete and very exalted idea of 
 his personal character. How dearly he was held by tliose who knew 
 him best is well sliown by a passage of Ben Jonson's, written long 
 after the Poet's death, and not published till 1640 : " I loved the man 
 and do honour his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He 
 was indeed honest, and of an open and free nature." 
 
 From the foregoing sketch it appears that the materials for a Life 
 of Shakespeare are scanty indeed. Nevertheless there is enough, I 
 think, to show that in all the common dealings of life he was emi- 
 nently gentle, candid, upright, and judicious ; open-hearted, genial, 
 and sweet in his social intercourses ; while, in the smooth and happy 
 
GENERAL INTKODUCTION. 17 
 
 marriage which he seems to have realized, of the highest poetry and 
 art with systematic and successful prudence in business affairs, we 
 have an example of well-rounded practical manhood, such as may 
 justly engage our admiration and respect. 
 
 STATE AND SOURCES OF THE POET'S TEXT. ^ 
 
 Of the thirty-seven plays commonly known as Shakespeare's, six- 
 teen were published, separately, in quarto, during the author's life. 
 Some of these were issued several times in that form ; as, for instance, 
 King Richard II., of which there were five quarto editions, severally 
 dated 1597, 1598, 1608, 1608, and 1615. Some of these issues, how- 
 ever, were undoubtedly stolen and surreptitious, and it is by no means 
 certain that any of tliem were autliorized by the Poet. In some 
 cases, as, for instance, in King Hmry V. and The Mary Wives of Wind- 
 sor, the quartos present but wretched abortions of tlie genuine plays; 
 the text being so mutilated and incomplete as to force the inference 
 that the copy must have been taken at the theatre by ignorant or in- 
 competent reporters. In other cases, again, as in the First and Second 
 Parts of King Hmry IV., the quartos give the text in such order and 
 fulness as to justify the beUef that they were printed from the Poet's 
 own manuscript. Still, upon the whole, we have no clear reason for 
 supposing that a single page of the proofs was ever corrected by the 
 author himself. It should be observed further, that the plays were 
 written for the special use and benefit of the company to which the 
 author belonged. Of course the company was naturally interested in 
 being able to prevent rival companies from getting hold of them ; 
 there being at that time no copyriglit law to restrain appropriations 
 in that kind. Accordingly few things touching the liistory of the 
 early English stage are more clearly settled, tlian that theatrical com- 
 panies took great pains to keep their plays out of print, that so they 
 might control them and have the exclusive use of them. Neverthe- 
 less, there are some cases in which we have strong reason to believe 
 that companies gave their consent for the printing of their plays ; as 
 in The Merchant of Venice and Much Ado ahout Nothing, both of which 
 were published in 1600; some of the circumstances being such as 
 to warrant, if not invite, a conclusion to that effect. 
 
 Of the quarto editions, in some cases, if not in all, the later were 
 undoubtedly printed from the earlier issues. Notwithstanding, we 
 often find the several quarto issues of a given play differing a good 
 deal among themselves in the reading of particular passages. Besides, 
 some of them are shockingly printed, so that it is often impossible 
 to make any sense at all out of the text; and all of tliem abound in 
 gross typographical errors. Before passing on from this head, I rjust 
 add that another of the plays, Othello, was published in quarto in 1622, 
 six years after the author's death. 
 
 This brings me to what is known as the folio edition of 1653 in 
 which the seventeen plays already printed in quarto, and all the 
 others known or believed -to be Sliakespeare's, with the single excep- 
 tion of Pericles, were collected and published together in one volume. 
 It was edited by two of the Poet's old friends and fellow-actors, John 
 Heminge and Henry Condell ; who dedicated the volume to the two 
 brothers, William and Philip Herbert, Earls of Pembroke and Mont- 
 gomery. In their dedication the editors speak thus ; " We have but 
 collected them, and done an office to the dead, to procure his orphans 
 guardians ; without ambition either of self-profit or fame ; only to 
 keep the memory of so worthy a friend and fellow alive as was our 
 Shakespeare, by offer of his plays to your most noble patronage." 
 
 2 
 
18 GENERAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The dedication was followed by an address " to the great variety of 
 readers," in wliich the editors claim " so to have published them as, 
 where before you were abused with divers stolen and surreptitious 
 copies, maimed and deformed by the frauds and stealths of injurioils 
 impostors that exposed them, even those are now offered to your view 
 cured and perfect of their limbs, and all the rest absolute in their 
 members as he conceived them ; who, as he was a happy imitator of 
 Nature, was a most gentle expresser of it: his mind and hand went to- 
 gether ; and what lie thought, he uttered with that easiness, that we 
 have scarce received from him a blot in his papers." 
 
 Doubtless it was natural, perhaps it was excusable, for the editors 
 to speak in this manner ; nevertlieless, some of their statements are 
 far from being borne out by the character and execution of the work. 
 Some of the plays here publislieJ for the first time are wretchedly 
 printed, insomuch that we have great cause to regret the lack of 
 quarto copies to help us in clearing and rectifying the Poet's text. 
 Others of them, however, it must be confessed, as, for instance, As 
 You Like It and Julius Ccesar, are printed remarkably well for thilt 
 time, so that modern editors have no great difficulty in making out, 
 on the whole, a pretty satisfactory presentation of the workmanship. 
 Some, again, of those which had previously appeared in quarto, are 
 liere given with errors so great and so frequent, and omissions so im- 
 portant, that no one thinks of relying wholly or even mainly on the 
 folio for settling the text. In several of the plays, the best modem 
 editors, our Mr. Grant White excepted, have no scruple in preferring, 
 on the whole, the quarto copies, and accordingly use them as the chief 
 authority in their tex.tual reproduction. 
 
 All these circumstances, taken together, render Shakespeare's dra- 
 mas one of the hardest books in the world, perhaps the very hardest, 
 to get delivered in a thoroughly satisfactory state. Aside from the 
 many errors, palpable or probable, in the printing, the variations of 
 text in the old copies, the folio differing much from the quartos, and the 
 quartos not a little among themselves, often tax an editor's judgment 
 and diligence to the utmost in fixing his choice of readings ; while, 
 moreover, in hundreds of cases, not to say thousands, the claims of dif- 
 ferent readings are so nearly balanced as almost to foreclose the possi- 
 bility of editors ever agreeing entirely in their delivery of the text. "Vol- 
 umes enough to make a large library have been written in that behalf; 
 and the result just proves that no two editors can agree with each 
 other in the matter, or even any one with himself for two years 
 together. Therewithal, in some of the plays, especially some of 
 those first printed in the folio, as, for example. The Winter's Tale and 
 Coriolanus, there are divers passages so defective or so corrupt as 
 fairly to defy the utmost stress of critical ingenuity and resource for 
 curing them into soundness ; so that they just have to be given up as 
 incurable. 
 
 The folio of 1623 was reprinted in 1632, with a good many small 
 changes of text made by some unknown hand. The folio of 1632 is 
 n )t regarded as of any authority, though in some cases it furnishes 
 aid of no little value. 
 
 I have thus drawn together, in as small a. compass and as fair a 
 statement as I could, such particulars relating to the state and sources 
 of the Poet's text, as it seems needful that young students should 
 have before them. For I cannot think it would be doing quite right, 
 either by the subject or the student, to leave the latter altogether 
 uninstructed touching the matters in question. Some further de- 
 tail.^ in the same line are given from time to time, as occasion seemed 
 to require, in tlie special introductions to particular plays. 
 
^jraiNiMia-ij ij:»i ijlujuul; iiu«. 
 
 19 
 
 This General Introduction may not improperly close with two 
 note-worthy commendations of the Poet. The first, prefixed to the 
 folio of 1623, is from the hand of " rare Ben Jonson," wlio, though ten 
 years younger than Shakespeare, was one of his most intimate per- 
 sonal and professional friends ; a ripe scholar ; a diligent, painstaliing, 
 and highly idiomatic writer; and aright honest, true-hearted, capable, 
 and thoroughly estimable man. It is certainly one of the noblest 
 tributes ever paid by one man to another. 'The second first appeared 
 among the commendatory verses prefixed to the folio of 1632. It 
 was there printed without any signature, but was included by Milton 
 in a collection of his poems published in 1645, which of course iden- 
 tifies him as the author of it. Milton was born eight years before 
 Shakespeare died, and was twenty-four years old when this glorious 
 little piece was first given to the public. It is worthy alike of the 
 author and of the subject. 
 
 To the Memory of my beloved, the Author, Mr. William Siiake< 
 SPEAKE, and what he hath left us. 
 
 To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, 
 
 Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; 
 
 While I confess thy writings to be such 
 
 As neither man nor Muse can praise too much • 
 
 'Tis true and all men's suffrage. But these ways 
 
 Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise : 
 
 For silliest ignorance on these may light. 
 
 Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right ; 
 
 Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance 
 
 The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance ; 
 
 Or crafty malice might pretend this praise. 
 
 And think to ruin where it seern'd to raise. 
 
 But thou art proof against them ; and, indeed, 
 
 Above th' ill fortune of them, or the need. 
 
 I therefore will begin : — Soul of the age, 
 
 Th' applause, delight, the wonder of our stage. 
 
 My Shakespeare, rise ! I will not lodge thee by 
 
 Chaucer or Spenser ; or bid Beaumont lie 
 
 A little further, to make thee a room : 
 
 Thou art a monument without a tomb ; 
 
 And art alive still, while thy book doth live. 
 
 And we have wits to read, and praise to give. 
 
 That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses ; 
 
 I mean, with great but disproportion'd Muses : 
 
 For, if I thought my judgment were of years, 
 
 I should commit thee surely with thy peers ; 
 
 And tell how far thou didst our Lily outshine, 
 
 Or sporting Kid, or Marlowe's mighty line : 
 
 And, though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek, 
 
 From thence to honour thee I would not seek 
 
 For names ; but call forth thundering JEschylus, 
 
 Euripides, and Sophocles, to us, 
 
 Pacuvius, Aecius, him of Cordova, dead. 
 
 To life again, to hear thy buskin tread 
 
 And shake a stage ; or, when thy socks were on, 
 
 Leave thee alone for the comparison 
 
 Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Eome 
 
 Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come. 
 
 Triumph, my Britain ! thou hast one to show , 
 
 To whom alt scenes. of Europe homage owe. 
 
20 GENERAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 He was not of an age, but for all time ! 
 
 And all the Muses still were in their prime. 
 
 When like Apollo he came forth to warm 
 
 Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm. 
 
 Nature herself was proud of his designs, 
 
 And joy'd to wear the dressing of his lines ; 
 
 Which were so richly spun, and woTen so fit. 
 
 As since she will vouchsafe no other wit. 
 
 The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes, 
 
 Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please ; 
 
 But antiquated and deserted lie, 
 
 As they were not of Nature's family. 
 
 Yet must I not give Nature all : thy art, 
 
 My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part : 
 
 For, thougli the poet's matter nature be. 
 
 His art doth give the fashion"; and that he 
 
 Who casts to write a living line must sweat, 
 
 ( Such as thine are, ) and strike the second beat 
 
 XTpon the Muses' anvil ; turn the same, 
 
 (And himself with it,) that he thinks to frame ; 
 
 Or, for the laurel, he may gain a scorn, — 
 
 For a good poet's made, as well as born ; 
 
 And such wert thou. Look, how the father's face 
 
 Lives in his issue ; even so the race 
 
 Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines 
 
 In his well-turned and true-filed lines ; 
 
 In each of which he seems to shake a lance, 
 
 As brandish'd at the eyes of Ignorance. 
 
 Sweet Swan of Avon, what a sight it were 
 
 To see thee in our waters yet appear. 
 
 And make those fiights upon the banks of Thames, 
 
 That so did take Eliza and our James ! 
 
 But stay ; I see thee in the hemisphere 
 
 Advanc'd, and made a constellation there : 
 
 Shine forth, thou Star of poets ! and with rage 
 
 Or influence chide or cheer the drooping stage ; 
 
 Which, since thy fiight from hence, hath mouru'd like night. 
 
 And despairs day, but for thy volume's light ! 
 
 Bbh Joksos, 
 
 An Epitaph on Vie admirable Dramatic Poet, 
 W. Shakespeabe. 
 
 What needs my Shakespeare, for his honour'd bones. 
 
 The labour of an age in piled stones ; 
 
 Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid 
 
 Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? 
 
 Dear son of Memory, great heir of Fame, 
 
 What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name * 
 
 Thou, in our wonder and astonishment, 
 
 Hast built thyself a live-long monument : 
 
 For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art. 
 
 Thy easy numbers flow ; and that each heart 
 
 Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalu'd hook, 
 
 Those Delphic lines with deep impression took ; 
 
 Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving. 
 
 Dost make us marble with too much conceiving ; 
 
 And, so sepulchr'd, in such pomp dost lie, 
 
 That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 THIS is among the plays of Shakespeare mentioned hy Pranoia 
 Meres in 1598. How long before that time it was written we 
 have no means of knowing; but, judging by the qualities of the 
 workmanship, we cannot well assign the writing to a much earlier 
 date. In July of the same year (1598), the play was registered in 
 the Stationers' books, but with a special proviso, " that it be not 
 printed without license first had from the Right Hon. the Lord Cham- 
 berlain " The theatrical company to which Shakespeare belonged 
 were then known as "The Lord Chamberlain's Servants ;" and the 
 purpose of the proviso was to keep the play out of print till the com- 
 pany's permission were given tlirougli their patron. The play was 
 entered again at the same place in October, 1600 ; his lordship's 
 license having probably been obtained by that time. , Accordingly, 
 two distinct editions of it were pubhshed in quarto form in the course 
 of that year. These editions were by different publishers, and were 
 most likely printed from different manuscripts, though the printer was 
 the same in both. The play was never issued again, that we know 
 of, till in the folio of 1623, where the repetition of various misprints 
 shows it to have been reprinted from one of the quarto copies. Ex- 
 cept in one instance, there is little difficulty about the text, nor- has 
 there been much controversy on that score. That exception is in 
 Act ill. scene 2, where all the old copies have " the beauteous scarf 
 veiling an Indian beauty." My own judgment of the passage is 
 given in a note. A few varieties of reading are noted in the margin. 
 
 In this play, again, the Poet shows the same indifference to mere 
 novelty of incident, which I have remarked in the case of As You 
 Like It. Here, as there, he drew largely from preceding writers. 
 Of invention, in the matter of plot and story, there is almost none. 
 Nevertheless, in conception and development of character, in poetical 
 texture and grain, in sap and flavour of wit and humour, and in all 
 that' touches the real life and virtue of the work, it is one of the 
 most original productions that ever came from the human mind. Of 
 the materials here used, some were so much the common stock of 
 European literature before the Poet's time, and had been run into so 
 n\any variations, that it is not easy to say what sources he was most 
 indebted to for them. The incidents of the bond and the caskets are 
 fcmnd separately in the Gesta Bomanorum, an ancient and curious, col- 
 lection of tales. There was also an Italian novel, by Giovanni Pio- 
 rentino, written as early as 1378, but not printed till 1558, to which 
 tho Poet is clearly traceable. As nothing is known of any English 
 translation of the novel, dating so far back as his time, it seems not 
 unlikely that he may have been acquainted with it in the original. 
 
 The praise of The Merchant of Venice is in the mouth of nearly^all the 
 critics. That this praise is well deserved appears in that, from the 
 reopening of the theatres at the Restoration (in 1660) till the present 
 day, the play has kept its place on the boards ; while it is also among 
 the first of the Poet's works to be read, and the last to be forgotten ; 
 its interest being as durable in the closet as on the stage. Well do I 
 remember it as the very beginning of my acquaintance with Shake- 
 speare. As in case of the preceding play, I probably cannot do better 
 than by quoting the temperate and firm-footed judgment of Hallam : 
 
 " The Merchant of Venice is generally esteemed the best of Shake- 
 speare's comedies. In the management of the plot, which is suffi- 
 ciently complex, without the slightest confusion or incoherence, I do 
 not conceive that it has been surpassed in the annals of any theatre 
 
 7 
 
98 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Yet there are those who still affect to speak of Shaliespeare as a 
 barbarian ; and others who, giving what they think due credit to his 
 genius, deny him all judgment and dramatic taste. A comparison of 
 his works with those of his contemporaries — and it is surely to them 
 that we should look — will prove that his judgment is by no means 
 the least of his rare qualities. This is not so remarkable in tlie mere 
 construction of his table — though the present comedy is absolutely 
 perfect in that point of view, and several others are excellently man- 
 aged — as in the general keeping of the characters, and the choice 
 of incidents. Tlie variety of the characters in The Merchant of Venice, 
 and the powerful delineation of those upon whom the interest chiefly 
 depends, the efiectiveness of many scenes in representation, the copi- 
 ousness of the wit, and the beauty of the language, it would be su- 
 perfluous to extol ; nor is it our ofice to repeat a tale so ofteu'told as 
 the praise of Shakespeare." 
 
 The remarks, also, of Schlegel on this drama are in so high a strain, 
 and of a spirit so genial, that I cannot well forbear quoting a portion 
 of them. " 'The Merchant of Venice," says this admirable critic, " is 
 one of Shakespeare's perfectest works ; popular to an extraordinary 
 degree, and calculated to produce the most powerful effect on the 
 stage, and at the same time a wonder of ingenuity and art for the 
 reHecting critic. Shylock, the Jew, is one of the inimitable master- 
 pieces of characterization which are to be found only in Shakespeare. 
 It is easy for both poet and player to exhibit a caricature of national 
 sentiments, modes o'f speaking, and gestures. Shylock, however, is 
 any thing but a common Jew : he has a strongly marked and original 
 individuality, and yet we perceive a light touch of Judaism in every 
 thing he says or does. The desire to avenge the wrongs and indigni- 
 ties heaped upon his nation is, after avarice, his strongest spring of 
 action. His hate is naturally directed chiefly against those Cliristians 
 who are actuated by truly Cliristian sentiments : a disinterested love of 
 our neighbour seems to him the most unrelenting persecution of the 
 Jews. The letter of the law is his idol : he refuses his ear to tlie 
 voice of mercy which speaks to him with heavenly eloquence from 
 Portia's lips ; insisting on rigid and inflexible justice, which at last 
 recoils on his own head. Thus he becomes a symbol of the general 
 history of his unfortunate nation. The melancholy and self-sacrificing 
 magnanimity of Antonio is affectingly sublime. Like a princely mer- 
 chant, he is surrounded with a whole train of noble friends. The con- 
 trast which this forms to the selfish cruelty of the usurer Shylock 
 was necessary to rede.em the honour of human nature. The danger 
 which, almost to the close of the Fourth Act, hangs over Antonio, 
 would fill the mind with too painful anxiety, if the Poet did not also 
 provide for its recreation and diversion, 'fhis is eflTected in a special 
 manner by the scenes at Portia's country-seat, which transport the 
 spectator into quite another world. The jildgnient-scene, with which 
 the Fourth Act is occupied, is in itself a perfect drama, concentrating 
 in itself the interest, of the whole. The knot is now untied, and,' 
 according to the common ideas of theatrical satisfaction, the curtain 
 ought to drop. But the Poet was unwilling to dismiss his audience 
 with the gloomy impressions which Antonio's acquittal — effected with 
 so much difficulty — and the condemnation of Shylock were calculated 
 to leave behind them : he therefore added the Fifth Act by way of a 
 musical afterlude to the piece itself. The episode of Jessica, the 
 fugitive daughter of the Jew, in whom Shakespeare has contrived 
 to tlirow a veil of sweetness over the national features, and the arti- 
 fice by vvlucli Portia and her companion are enabled to rally their newly 
 married husbands, supply him with the necessary materials." 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 PERSONS RBPItESENTED. 
 
 Duke of Venice. 
 
 Prince of Morocco, ) a. ,•■.„„ ..„ t,„^h^ 
 Prince of Arragou, \ ^"''**'^ *° ^°'^"*- 
 Antonio, the Merchant of Venice. 
 Bassanio, his Jrieud. 
 
 SULANIO, 
 
 Salarino. 
 
 Gratiano. 
 
 Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. 
 
 Shylook, a Jew. 
 
 Tubal, a Jew, his Priend, 
 
 4^i 
 
 Friends to Antonio and Bas- 
 sanio. 
 
 Launcelot Gobbo, a Clown, Servant t 
 
 Shyiock. 
 OhJy Gobbo, Father to Launcelot. 
 Leonardo, Servant to BasEanio. 
 
 Portia, a rich Heiress. 
 Nkkissa, Iier Companion. 
 Jessica, daugiiter to Shyiock. 
 
 Magnificoes of Yenice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Jailer, Serrants, and other 
 Attendants. 
 
 SCENE, partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont. 
 
 ACT I. Scene I. Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Antonio, Salakino, and Solanio.^ 
 
 Ant. In sooth,^ I know not why I am so sad : 
 It wearies me, you say it wearies you ; 
 But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
 What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is bOm, 
 I am to learn ; 
 
 And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
 That I have much ado to know myself. 
 
 Sal. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
 There, where your argosies ^ with portly sail, — 
 Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood,* 
 
 1 In the old copies there is much confusion in the printing of these names, 
 especially in the first scene. After the first scene the prefixes to- the speeches 
 uniformly are Sal. and Sol. So that we have authority for reading Solanio 
 instead of Solanio, as it is in most modern editions. 
 
 2 Sooth is truth ; old English. 
 
 8 Argosies are large ships either for merchandise or for war. The name 
 was probjiblj' derived from the classical ship Argo, which carried Jason and 
 the Argonauts in quest of the golden fleece. 
 
 4 Signitir is used by Shakespeare very much in the sense of hrd; sig~ 
 niory, of lordship, meaning dominion. Thus, in Tlie Tempest, Act i. scene 2, 
 Prospero says of his dukedom : " Through all the signiories it was the first.'* 
 Burghers Sire citizens. So, in As You Mke It, Act ii. scene 1, the deer in the 
 Forest of Arden, "poor dappled fools," are spoken of as "being native 
 burghers of this desert city." 
 
100 THE MERCHANT -^-CT !• 
 
 Or, as it were, the pageants ^ of the sea, — 
 Do overpeer the petty traffickers, 
 That curtsy to them, do them reverence, 
 As they fly by them with their woven wings. 
 
 Sol. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,' 
 The better part of my affections would 
 Be with my hopes abroad, I should -be stUl 
 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 
 Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, 
 Would make me sad. 
 
 Sal. My wind, cooling my broth, 
 
 Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
 What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
 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, 
 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'sUks ; 
 And, in a word, but even now worth this, 
 And now worth nothing? Shall 1 have the though'; 
 To think on this, and shall I lack the thought. 
 That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad ? 
 But tell not me : I know Antonio 
 Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 
 
 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. 
 
 6 Paffecmts -were shows of various kinds, theatrical and others; from a 
 word originally meaning, it is said, a high stage or scaffold. Pageants of 
 great splendour, with gay barges and other paraphernalia, used to be held 
 upon the Thames. Leicester had a grand pageant exhibited before Queen 
 Elizabeth, on the water at Kenilworth Castle, when she visited him there in 
 1575; described in Scott's Kendwwth. Perhaps our Fourth-of-July fireworks 
 come as near to it as any thing now in use. 
 
 6 Venture is what is risked ; exposed to " the peril of waters, winds, and 
 rocks." — StiUf second line below, has the sense of coniinually. 
 
 7 Roads are anch(yrages ; places where ships ride at anchor safely. 
 
 8 Dock'd in sand is stranded. — Italian ships were apt to be named firom 
 Andrea Doria, the great Genoese Admiral. 
 
 9 To vail is to lutver, to Itt fidl. 
 
 ^^ A bottom is a tran.<spnrt-sliip, or merchant-man. 
 
SC. I. OF VENICE. 101 
 
 SaJ. Why, then you are in love. 
 
 Ant. Fie, fie ! 
 
 Sal. Not in love neither ? Then let's say, you're sad, 
 Because you are not merry ; and 'twere as easy 
 For you to laugh and leap, and say you're merry 
 'Cause you're not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus," 
 Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time : 
 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, 
 Ajid laugh like parrots at a bag-piper ; 
 And other of such vinegar asp^ct,^^ 
 That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile. 
 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.'* 
 
 Sol. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
 Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well : 
 We leave you now with better company. 
 
 Sal. I would have stay'd till 1 had made you merry, 
 If worthier friends had not prevented me." 
 
 Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
 I take it, your own business calls on you, 
 And you embrace th' occasion to depart. 
 
 Miier Bassanio, Lokenzo, and Gratiano. 
 
 Sal. Good morrow, my good lords. 
 
 Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when? 
 You grow exceeding strange : ^ must it be so ? 
 
 Sal. "We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 
 
 l_Exeunt Salar. and SOLAN. 
 
 Zor. My Lord Bassanio, since you've found Antonio, 
 We two will leave you ; but at dinner-time, 
 I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 
 
 £ass. I will not fail you. 
 
 Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio ; 
 You have too much respect upon the world : '° 
 
 11 Janus, the old Latin Sun-god, who gave the name to the month of Jan- 
 uary, is here called two-headed^ because he had two faces, one on either side 
 of his head. There is also an allusion to certain antique two-faced images, 
 one face being grave, the other merry, or a gloomy Saturn on one side, and 
 a laughing Apollo on the other. 
 
 12 Jn Shakespeare and other writers of the time, aspect generally has the 
 accent on the second- syllable. — (?£Aer, the singular form, was sometimes 
 used with the plural sense. 
 
 18 Nestor was the oldest and gravest of the Greek heroes in the Trojan 
 war. The severest faces might justly laugh at what he should pronounce 
 laughable. 
 
 14 Prevented^ in old language, is anticipated. To prevent is literally to po 
 before. So in the Prayer-Booh, 17th Sunday after Trinity : " That thy grace 
 may al ways ^eyeni and follow us." 
 
 15 Stran(/e is distant^ stranger-like. 
 
 16 The Poet often" use.'; respect for consideration. So, in King Lenr, i. 1 ; 
 "Love's not love, when it is mingled with respects that stand aloof from th' 
 
102 THE MERCHANT ACT I. 
 
 They ose it that do buy it with much care. 
 Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. 
 
 Ant. 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 ; 
 And let my Hver rather heat with wine 
 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
 Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 
 Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice 
 By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, — 
 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, — 
 There are a sort of men whose visages 
 Do cream and maptle like a standing pond ; 
 And do a wUiul stillness entertain, 
 With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
 Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; '* 
 As who should say, I am Sir Orach, 
 And when I ope my lips, let no 'dog hark! 
 
 my Antonio ! I do know of these, 
 That therefore only are reputed wise 
 For saying nothing ; who,'^' I'm very sure. 
 
 If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, 
 
 Which, hear'ing them, would call their brothers fools. 
 
 I'll tell thee more of this another time : 
 
 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. 
 
 Lor. 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. 
 
 Gra. Well, keep me company but two years more. 
 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 
 
 entire point.'* Near the end of this play, we have respective for consider' 
 citive. 
 
 17 To play the Foot is, in Gratiano'a sense, to act such a part as that of 
 rnuchstone in As You Like Ji. 
 
 18 Conceit for conception or Ihouglit. See page 87, note 5. 
 
 M All the oldoopfes have when instead of who, thus leaving iDOuli damn 
 ■without a subject. — The following lines refer to tlie judgment pronounced 
 in the Gospel again<;t him who " says to his brother, Tiiou fool." The mean- 
 ing, therefore, is, that if those who " only are reputed wise for saying notliing" 
 should go to talking, they would be apt to damn their hearers, by provoking 
 them to utter thiS reproach. Fool-yudgton, a little below, appears to mean 
 such a fish as any fool might catch, or none but fools would care to catch. 
 Gudyeon was the name of a small tish very easily caught. 
 
8C. I. OF TtNICE. 103 
 
 Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear.^ 
 
 Gra. Thanks, i' faith ; for silence is only commendable 
 In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.^* 
 
 [_JSxeunt Gratia, and Loken. 
 
 Ant. Is that any thing now ? 
 
 £ass. 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 
 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 
 That you to-day promis'd to tell me of? 
 
 Sass. '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 1 now make moan to be abridg'd 
 From 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 gag'd.^ To you, Antonio, 
 I owe the most, in money and in love ; 
 And from your love I have a warranty 
 T' unburden all my plots and purposes. 
 How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 
 
 Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; 
 And if it stand, as you yourself still do. 
 Within the eye of honour, be assur'd. 
 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, 
 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. 
 
 ™ Gear was often used of any business, matter, or affair in hand. 
 
 21 Not good for the matrimonial market, unless she have the rare gift of 
 silence to recommend her, or to make up for the lack of other attractions. 
 
 22 Pfyri is hearing^ carriage, behamour. — Next line, " continuance q/"." 
 
 28 Gag^d is pledged. So in 1 Henry IV. i. 3: "That men of your 
 nobility and power did gage them both in an unjust behalf." 
 
 24 Arrows were variously formed for different ranges. A shaft "of the 
 self-«ame flight " was an arrow made for shooting the same distance. — His 
 for its, which was not then a legitimate word. See p^ge 53, note 22. 
 
 25 Advised is careful deliberate. So Bacon say^ that judges ought to be 
 " more advisedih&n confidant." — Observe, especially, that in the text as here 
 set forth, — and it is the same in the old copies, — in all such words, erf, when 
 printed in full, except in words ending in ied, always makes a syllable by 
 itself, and is required by the verse to be so. See piige 39, note 6. 
 
104 THE MERCHANT ACT L 
 
 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 wUl watch the aim, — or to find both, 
 Or bring your latter hazard back again. 
 And thankfully rest debtor for the iirst. 
 
 Ant. You know me well, and herein spend but time, 
 To wiud about my love with circumstance ; ^ 
 And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
 In making question of my uttermost. 
 Than if you had made waste of all I have : 
 Then do but say to me what I should do. 
 That in your knowledge may by me be done, 
 And I am prest unto it : ^ therefore speak. 
 
 Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left ; 
 And she is fair, and, fairer than that word. 
 Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes ''^ 
 I did receive fair speechless messages. 
 Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalu'd 
 To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia: 
 Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
 For the four winds blow in from every coast 
 Renowned suitors ; and her sunny locks 
 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 
 Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' 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 fortimate. 
 
 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 : 
 That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
 To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
 
 28 The Poet elsewhere has childhood in tlie sense of childish. 
 
 27 Circumstance is circumlocutUm. Thus, in Hamlet, i. B : " And so, with- 
 out more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part." 
 
 28 Prest is prompt, ready; from an old French word. Spenser has it re- 
 peatedly in the same sense. The Latin prcesto is the origin of it. 
 
 20 Sometimes and sometime were used indifferently in the sense of for- 
 merly. 
 
 2» The language is awkward: " as one of them," we sh.mld say. 
 
SC. II. OP VENICE. 105 
 
 Go, 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. 
 
 Scene II. Belmont A Boom in Portia's House. 
 Enter Portia and Neeissa. 
 
 For. By my troth,'^ Nerissa, my little body is a-weary of 
 this great world. 
 
 Ner. You would be, sweet Madam, if your miseries were 
 in the same abundance as your good fortunes are : and yet, 
 for aught I see, thsy are as sick that surfeit with too much, as 
 they that starve with nothing. It is no small happiness, 
 therefore, to be seated in the mean : superfluity comes sooner 
 by white hairs,^ but competency lives longer. 
 
 Por. Good sentences, and well pronounc'd. 
 
 Ner. They would be better, if well followed. 
 
 Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good 
 to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages 
 princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own 
 instructions : I can easier teach twenty what were good to be 
 done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teach- 
 ing. The brain may devise laws for the blood,' but a hot 
 temper leaps o'er a cold decree : such a hare is madness the 
 youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But 
 this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband. — 
 O me, the word choose ! I may neither choose whom I would, 
 nor refuse whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living daughter 
 curb'd by the will of a dead father. — Is it not hard, Nerissa, 
 that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none ? 
 
 Ner. Your father was ever virtuous ; and holy men at their 
 death have good inspirations : therefore, the lottery that he 
 hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, and lead — 
 whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you — will no 
 doubt never be chosen by any rightly, but one whom you 
 shall rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection 
 towards any of these princely suitors that are already come ? 
 
 Por. I pray thee over-name them, and as thou namest 
 them, I will describe them ; and, according to my description, 
 level at my affection.^ 
 
 Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan Prince. 
 
 1 Troth is but an oM form of truth. 
 
 2 That is, superfluity sooner acquires white hairs; becomes old. We still 
 sav, how did he come by it? — The quartos have " no mean h.tppiuess," which 
 malces a poor jingle with '* seated in the viean.^^ 
 
 8 This use of blood was very cnmnion. See page 92, note 9. 
 
 4 Level at is f/uess or infer. The I'out uses aim in the same srnse. 
 
! 
 106 THE MERCHANT ACT I. > 
 
 Pot. Ay, that's a colt' indeed, for he doth nothing but talk 
 of his horse ; and he makes it a great appropriation to his 
 own good parts, that he can shoe Hm himself. I am much 
 afraid my lady his mother play'd false with a smith. 
 
 Ner. Then is there the County Palatine. 
 
 Por. He doth nothing but frown ; as who should say. An 
 you will not have me, choose. He hears merry tales, and 
 smUes not : I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher 
 when he grows old," being so full of unmannerly sadness in 
 his youth. I had rather be married to a Death's-head with a 
 bone in his mouth than to either of these. God defend me 
 fi'om these two ! 
 
 Ner. How say you by the French lord,' Monsieur le Bon? 
 
 Por. 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 wiU 
 fence with his own shadow. If I should marry him, I should 
 marry twenty husbands. K he would despise me,' I would 
 forgive him; for, if he love me to madness, I shall never 
 requite him. 
 
 Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, the young 
 baron of England? 
 
 Por. You know I say nothing to him ; for he understands 
 not me, nor I him : he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian; 
 and you wUl come into the court and swear that I have a poor 
 penny-worth 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 France, his bonnet in Germany,'^ and his 
 behaviour everywhere. 
 
 5 The Neapolitans were eminently skilled In hovsemanship. — CoU is used 
 for a witless, head}', gajr youngster. 
 
 6 "-The weeping philosopher" was Heraclitus of Ephesus, who became a 
 complete recluse, and retreated to the mountains, where he lived on pot-herbs. 
 He was called "the weeping philosopher" because he mourned over the 
 follies of mankind, just as Democritus was called " the laughing philosopher " 
 because he laughed at them. Perhaps Portia has in mind the precept, " JJe- 
 Jmce with those that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep." 
 
 ' By and qfv/eve among the words not fully differentiated in the Poet's 
 time. So again, in Act ii. scene 9 : " That many may be meant by the fool 
 multitude." See page 33, note 18. 
 
 « Would for sJumM ; the two words being often used indifferently. So a 
 little after: " You sAoa&f refuse to perform." See preceding note and ref- 
 erence. 
 
 ^ A proper man is a Tiand&ome man. 
 
 10 For an instance of d&mb sliow, see Hamlet, Act iii. scene 2. 
 
 u Bonnet and hat have changed places with each other, since the Foet'l 
 time. 
 
80. II. OP VENICE. ■ 107 
 
 Ner. "What think you of the Scottish lord,^^ his neighbour ? 
 
 For. 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 French- 
 man became his surety, and seal'd under for another.^ 
 
 Ner. How like you the young German, the Diike of Sax- 
 ony's nephew? 
 
 Por. Very vilely in the morning when he is sober, and 
 most vilely in the afternoon when he is drunk : when ho 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 
 fall, I hope I shall make shift to go without him. 
 
 Ner. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right cas- 
 ket, you should refuse to perform your father's will, if you 
 should refuse to accept him. 
 
 Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray 'thee, set a 
 deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket ; " for, if 
 the Devil be within, and that temptation without, I know he 
 win choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be 
 married to a sponge. 
 
 Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords : 
 they have acquainted me with their determination ; which is, 
 indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you with no 
 more suit, unless you may be won by some other sort than 
 your father's imposition," depending on the caskets. 
 
 Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla," I will die as chaste 
 as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's 
 
 12 So in the quartos. In the folio Scottish -was changed to oljier; doubt- 
 less on account of King James. 
 
 18 To seal was to subscribe ; as Antonio afterwards says, " I'll seal to such 
 a bond." The principal sealed to a bond, his surety sealed under. The 
 meaning therefore is, that the Frenchman became surety for another box of 
 the ear, to be given in repayment of the first. 
 
 14 The vyrong casket. So, in King John, iv. 2 : " Standing on slippers 
 which his nimble haste had falsely thrust upon contrary feet." 
 
 16 Soi-t appears to be here used in the sense of lot; from the Latin sors. 
 So, in Troilus and Cressida, i. 3 : " Let blockish Ajax draw the sort to fight 
 with Hector." ^-" Your father's imposition " means the cohditions imposed 
 by your father. 
 
 16 Shakespeare here turns the word sibyl into a proper name. That he 
 knew it to be a generic, not an individual name, appears in Othello, iii. 4 : 
 " A sibyl, that had number'd in the world the Sun to course two hundred 
 compasses, in her prophetic fuiy sew'd the work." Bacon, in his Essay Of 
 Delays, also uses the word as a proper name: " Fortune is like the market 
 where, many times, if yon can stay a little, the price will fall ; and again, it 
 is sometimes like SibyUa^s ofier, which at first otiereth the comnjodity at the 
 full, then consumeth part and part, and still holdeth up the price." The par- 
 ticular Sibyl referred to by Portia is probabh- the Cumaean Sibyl, so named 
 from Cumse in Italy, where she had her prophetic seat. Apnllo fell in love 
 with her, and offered to grant any request she might make. Her request was 
 that she might live as many years as she held grains of sand in her hand. 
 She forgot to ask for the continuance of her beauty also, and so had a rathel 
 hard bargain of it. 
 
108 THE MERCHANT ACT I. 
 
 will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable ; fur 
 there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence, 
 and I pray God grant them a fair departure." 
 
 Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a 
 Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in com- 
 pany of the Marquess of Montferrat? 
 
 Por. Yes, yes ; it was Bassanio : as I t hink , so was he 
 cali'd. 
 
 Ner. True, Madam : he, of all the men that ever my fool- 
 ish eyes look'd upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. 
 
 Por. I remember him weU ; and I remember him worthy 
 of thy praise. — 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 How now ! what news ? 
 
 Serv. The four strangers ■'' seek for you. Madam, to take 
 their leave ; and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the 
 Prince of Morocco ; who brings word, the Prince his master 
 will be here to-night. 
 
 Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good 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 com- 
 plexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me thaji wive 
 me." 
 
 Come, Nerissa. — Sirrah, go before. — 
 
 Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another knocks at 
 the door. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. T^ice. A public Place. 
 
 Enter Bassanio and Shylock. 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats, — well. 
 Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. 
 Shy. For three rnonths, — well. 
 
 Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bonnd- 
 Shy. Antonio shall become bound, — well. 
 Bass. May you stead me ? ^ WIU you pleasure me ? Shall 
 I know your answer ? 
 
 " So in the quartos; the folio, " 1 wish them a fair departure." The 
 change was made in pursuance of a statute, passed in the first year of James 
 1603-4, against desecrating the sacred names. I prefer what the Poet's cwn 
 genius dictated, to what was done by Act of Parliament. 
 
 18 An oversight, perhaps. There were six of them. 
 
 w Condition is temper, disposilim. So used continually by Shakespeare 
 and other writers of his time. ' i* i 
 
 2» Devils were imagined and represented as of dark colour. So in 
 OUielh, lago savs to Brabantio, " The Devil will make a grandsire of yo'u " 
 referring to the Moor's colour. — Shrift is confession. ' 
 
 1 Another instance of the undifferentiated use of words. Instead of 
 may, we should use can or will. See note 8, preceding scene. 
 
BC. III. OP VENICE. 109 
 
 Shy. Three tliousand ducats for three months, and Antonio 
 bound. 
 
 Sass. Your answer to that. 
 
 Shy. Antonio is a good man. 
 
 Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ? 
 
 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 supposition : 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, land-thieves and^ water-thieves, — I mean, pirates: and 
 then there is the peril of waters, wiads, and rocks. The man 
 is, notwithstanding, sufficient. Three thousand ducats ; — I 
 think I may take his bond. 
 
 Bass. Be assured you may. 
 
 Shy. I wiU be assured I may ; and, that I may be assured, 
 I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio ? 
 
 Bass. If it please you to dine with us. 
 
 Shy. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which 
 your prophet the Nazarite conjured the Devil into.' I will buy 
 with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so 
 following ; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor 
 pray with you. What news on the Rialto? — Who is he 
 comes here? 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 
 
 Shy. \_Aside.'\ How like a fawning publican he looks ! 
 I hate him for he is a Christian ; * 
 But more, for that in low simplicity 
 He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice.^ 
 
 2 Squandered here means simply scattered, dispersed; a frequent usage of 
 the time. 
 
 8 Alluding to the permission given to the Legion of devils to entei mto 
 the herd of swine: St. ImJce viii. 33. — Habitation is used of the body; the 
 dwelling-place, in this instance, of the devils. 
 
 * For was often used with the exact sense of our because, 
 
 5 Usance, uswry, and interest were all terms of precisely the same import 
 in Shakespeare's time; there being then no such Jaw or custom whereby 
 uswy has since come to mean the taking of interest above a certain rate. 
 How the taking of interest, at whatever rate, was commonly esteemed, is 
 shown in Lord Bacon's Essay of Usury, where he mentions the popular ar- 
 guments against it: "That the usurer is the greatest Sabbath-breiifcer, 
 because his plough goeth every Sunday; that the usurer hreaketh the first 
 law that was miide for mankind after the fall, which was, 'in the swfiat of 
 thy face shalt thou eat bread ; ' that usurers should have oranye-tnwny bonnets 
 
310 THE MERCHANT A.CT I 
 
 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, 
 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 ? — [7b Ant.] Eest you fair, good Signior ; 
 Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 
 
 Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow, 
 By taking nor by giving of excess, 
 Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
 I'll break a custom. — Is he yet possess'd ' 
 How much you would ? 
 
 Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 
 
 Ant. And for three months. 
 
 Shy. I had forgot ; — three months ; you told me so. 
 Well then, your bond ; and, let me see, — But hear you : 
 Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 
 Upon advantage. 
 
 Ant. I do never use it. 
 
 Shy. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep, — 
 This Jacob from our holy Abraham was 
 (As his wise mother wrought in his behalf) 
 The third possessor ; ay, he was the third,' — 
 
 Ant. And what of ham ? did he take interest ? 
 
 Shy. No, not take interest ; not, as you would say, 
 Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 
 When Laban and himself were compromis'd, 
 That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied 
 Should fall as Jacob's hire. 
 
 hecause they do Judaize ; that it is against nature for money to beget money, 
 and the like." The words in Italic sliow that usury was regarded as a badge 
 of Judaism. 
 
 Some explain this as a phrase of wrestling; others, of hunting. To 
 ham one on the hip was to have the advantage of him j as when a wrestler 
 seized his antagonist by that part, or a hound a deer. 
 
 ' Possessed was often used for informed. — Excess, second line before 
 means in excess of the sum lent; that is, interest. 
 
 8 The third, reckoning Abraham himself as the first. — See Genesis 
 xxvii. 
 
SC. III. OF VENICE. Ill 
 
 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 serv'd 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 ? 
 
 Sh^. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast. 
 But note me, Signior. 
 
 Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio, 
 
 The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 
 An evil soul, producing holy witness. 
 Is like a villain with a smiling, cheek, 
 A goodly apple rotten at the heart : 
 O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! " 
 
 Shi/. Three thousand ducats ; — 'tis a good round sum. 
 Three months from twelve, — then, let me see, the rate — 
 
 Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you ? 
 
 Sky. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, 
 In the Rialto, you have rated me ^^ 
 About my moneys, and my usances : 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
 You call me misbeliever, cut-throat, dog. 
 And spet ^ upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
 And all for use of that which is mine own. 
 Well then, it now appears you need my help : 
 Go to then ; you come to me, and you say, 
 Shylock, we would have moneys : you say so ; 
 You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
 And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur 
 Over your threshold: moneys is your suit. 
 What should I say to you ? Should I not say, 
 Jiath a dog money f is it possible, 
 
 9 See Genesis xxx. 31-43. 
 
 1" That is, inserted in the Scriptures. 
 
 11 Falsehood here means knavery, treachery, as truth is sometimes used 
 for honesty. 
 
 12 In this scene we have already had " an the Rialto," and " upon the 
 Rialto." Concerning the place meant, Rogers thus speaks in one of the 
 notes to his poem on Italy : " Rialto is the name, not of the bridge, but of 
 the island from which it is called ; and the Venetians sav il ponte di Rialto, 
 as we say Westminster-bridge. In that island is the exchange; and I have 
 often walked there as on classic ground. In the days of Antonio and Bas- 
 sanio it was second to none." 
 
 18 So in the old copies, but commonly changed to spit. As an old form 
 of the word, and as giving a Sliylockian tang to the speech, spet ought to be 
 retained. — Gaberdine was a long, coarse outer garment or frock. Caliban, 
 in The Tempest, ii. 2, wears one IJig enough, it seems, to wrap both himself 
 and Trinculo in. 
 
112 THE MERCHANT ^CT 1 
 
 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, — 
 
 Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last ; 
 You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 
 You call'd me dog ; and for these courtesies 
 I'll lend you thus much moneys ? 
 
 Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, 
 To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
 li' thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
 As to thy friend ; (for when did friendship take 
 A breed" of barren metal of his friend?) 
 But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 
 Who if he break," thou may'st with better face 
 Exact the penalty. ■ 
 
 Shy. Why, look you, how you storm I 
 
 I would be friends with you, and have your love, 
 Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with, 
 Supply your present wants, and take no doit'° 
 Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me : 
 This is kind I offer. 
 
 Ant. This were kindness. 
 
 Shy. This kindness will I show : 
 Go with me to a notary, seal me there 
 Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport, 
 If you repay me not on such a day. 
 In such a place, such sum or sums as are 
 Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
 Be nominated for an eqvial pound 
 Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
 In what part of your body pleaseth me. 
 
 Ant. Content, in faith ; I'll seal to such a bond, 
 And say there is much kindness in the Jew. 
 
 £ass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me : 
 I'll rather dwell ^' in my necessity. 
 
 Ant. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it : 
 Within these two months, that's a month before 
 This bond expires, I do expect return 
 Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 
 
 Shy. O, father Abraham, what these Christians are, 
 Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect 
 
 " Breed is interest, raonej' bred from the principal. 
 16 For this uniting of the'relative and personal pronouns, who and he in 
 one subject, see page 39, note 2. 
 
 10 Aril was a small Italian coin, considerably less than our cent 
 1' That is, ccntlitue^ or aliide. 
 
SC. I. OP TENICE. 113 
 
 The thoughts of others ! — Pray you, tell me this : 
 
 If he should break his day, what should I gain 
 
 By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 
 
 A pound o'f man's flesh taken from a man 
 
 Is not so estimable, profitable neither, 
 
 As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, 
 
 To buy his favour I extend this friendship : 
 
 If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
 
 And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 
 
 Ani. Yes, Shylook, I will seal unto this bond. 
 
 Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's : 
 Give him direction for this merry bond. 
 And I wOI 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. \_Exit. 
 
 Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. 
 
 The Hebrew will turn Christian ; he grows kind. 
 
 Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 
 
 Ant. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; 
 My ships come home a month before the day. \_Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II. Scene I. Belmont. A Boom in Poktia's House. 
 
 Fhnrish of Oornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco, and his 
 Train ; Portia, Nerissa, and other of her Attendants. 
 
 Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
 The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd Sun, 
 To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred. 
 Bring me the fairest creature northward bom, 
 Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
 And let us make incision for your love. 
 To prove whose blood is reddest,^ his or mine. 
 1 tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
 Hath fear'd the valiant : ^ by my love I swear. 
 The best-regarded virgins of our clime 
 
 IS Fearful guard is a guard that is not to be trusted, but gives cause of 
 fear. To joar was anciently to give as well as fed terrors. 
 
 1 Red blood is a traditionary sign of eonrase. Thus Macbeth calls one 
 of his frighted soldiers a. Itty-liver'd boy; iigain, in this play, cowards are 
 siiid to have livers as while as milk; and an effeminate man is termed a 
 milksop. 
 
 2 Pear was often used as a transitive verb, in the sense oS f lighten or ter- 
 rify. See last note of preceding scene. 
 
 8 
 
114 THE MEKCHANT ACT IJ 
 
 Have lov'd it too. I would not change this hne, 
 Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 
 
 Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
 By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ; ' 
 Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
 Bars me the right of voluntary choosing : 
 But, if my father had not scanted me, 
 And hedg'd me by his vi^ill, to yield myself 
 His wife who wins me by that means I told you, 
 Yourself, renowned Prince, then stood as fair 
 As any comer I have look'd on yet 
 For my affection. 
 
 Mor. Even for that I thank you : 
 
 Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets, 
 To try my fortune. By this scimitar, — 
 That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince * 
 That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, — 
 1 would outstare the sternest eyes that look. 
 Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 
 Pluck the yoimg sucking cubs from the she-bear, 
 Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 
 To win thee, lady : But, alas the whUe ! 
 If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
 Which is the better man,^ tie greater throw 
 May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 
 So is Alcides beaten by his page ; 
 And so may I, blind Fortune leading me, 
 Miss that which one unworthier may attain. 
 And die with grieving. 
 
 Por. You must take your chance ; 
 
 And either not attempt to choose at all, 
 Or swear, before you choose, if you choose wrong 
 Never to speak to lady afterward 
 In way of marriage ; therefore be advis'd. 
 
 Mor. Nor will not : Come, bring me unto my chance. 
 
 ' She means that reason and judgment have a voice potential in her mat- 
 rimonial thoughts. Nice, has somewhat the sense of fanciful here. 
 
 * A " History of the Wars between the Turks and Persians," translated 
 from the Italian, was published in London in 1695; from wliich ShakespeKre 
 mijjht have learned thiit "jSii^. an ancient word signifj'ing a wise man," was 
 *' grown to be the common name of the Emperors of Persia." l«mael Sophi 
 is said to have been the founder of what was called the Sutfavian dvnasry. 
 The same potentate is twice I'eferred to in Twelfth Nit/ht. — ^olvuian the 
 Magnificent liad an unfortuniite campaign with the Persians in 1535. 
 
 » If they stake the question of which is the braver man upon a game of 
 dice — Licfias was the servant or page of Hercules, who ignorant! v brought 
 to liis master Crorti Dejanira the poisoned shirt. Hercules was a descendant 
 of Alceus, and so is cal.ed, in the Greek idiom, Alcides. 
 
SC. II. OF VENICE 115 
 
 Por. First, forward to the Temple : ° after dinner 
 Your hazard shall be made. 
 
 Mor. Good fortune then ! 
 
 To make me bless'd, or cursed'st among men. \ExeunU 
 
 Scene II. Venice. A Street. 
 
 Enter Launcelot Gobbo. 
 
 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 ffood 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 con- 
 science, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely 
 to me, — Wly 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, Launcelot, budge not. 
 Budge, says the fiend : budge not, says my conscience. Con- 
 science, say I, you counsel weU ; fiend, say I, you counsel well : 
 to be rul'd by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my 
 master, who (God bless the mark !) is a kind of devil ; and, to 
 run away from the Jew, I should be rul'd by the fiend, who, 
 saving your reverence,' is the Devil himself. Certainly the 
 Jew is the very Devil incarnation ; and, in my conscience, my 
 conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to ofier to counsel 
 me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly 
 counsel : I wUl run, fiend ; my heels are at your command- 
 ment ; I wUl run. 
 
 8 That is, to the church, to take the oath mentioned just before, and de- 
 scribed more particularly in the eighth scene of this Act. Bibles were not 
 kept in private houses in the Poet's time. 
 
 1 Via I is Italian, meaning, away ! — To scorn a thing trith the heels 
 appears to have been an old phrase for spurning or kicking at a thing. 
 Shakespeare has the phrase agnm in Much Ado abcut Nothing, lii. 4. Laun- 
 celot seems to be in chase of a quibble between the heels as used in kicking, 
 and the heels as used in running. 
 
 2 F(yf> i]ie Heavens was merely a petty oath. To make the fiend conjure 
 Launcelot to do a thing for Seaven^s sake, is a specimen of that " acute nou- 
 sense " which Barrow makes one of the species of wit. 
 
 8 Saving your reverence is a sort of apologetic phrase for saj'ing some- 
 thing lewd or coarse or profane ; somewhat like our, " If you will allow me to 
 say so." " God save the mark," and " God bless the mark," are phrases of 
 similar import. 
 
116 THE MERCHANT ACT It 
 
 Enter old Gobbo, w^th a Basket. 
 
 Goh. Master young man,, you, I pray you, which is the way 
 to Master Jew's ? 
 
 Laun. [^Aside.'] O Heavens, this is my true-begotten father ! 
 who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel-blind, knows me 
 not : — I will try confusions with him.* 
 
 Goh. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the 
 way to Master Jew's ? 
 
 Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, bui, 
 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. 
 
 Goh. 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. — [ To him,^ 
 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.' 
 
 Laun. Well, let his father be what 'a wiU, we talk of young 
 Master Launcelot. 
 
 Goh. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir.' 
 
 Laun. But I pray you, erffo, old man, erc/o, I beseech you, 
 talk you of young Master Launcelot ? 
 
 Goh. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 
 
 Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master 
 Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman — according to 
 Fates and Destinies, and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three, 
 and such branches of learning — is, indeed, deceased ; or, aa 
 you would say in plain terms, gone to Heaven. 
 
 Goh. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very staff of my 
 age, my very prop. 
 
 * This is usually printed conclusions, following one of the quartos. The 
 other quarto and the folio have confusions. To try conclusions is, in old lan- 
 guage, to try exp&riments. Try confusions is a Gobboism, like " the Devil 
 incarnation" above. 
 
 6 God's sonties was probably a corruption of God's saints, in old language 
 saunctes. 
 
 6 Master, which we have bled and disbrained into mister, meant some- 
 thing in the Poet's time, as a title of respect. Shakespeare himself had no 
 right to the title till he got his father made into a gentleman by procuring 
 for him a coat "of arms from the Hernld's College. 
 
 7 It appeal's that old Gobbo himself was named Launcelot: hence in the 
 next speech Launcelot junior asks him if he talks or young Master Launcelot. 
 The reader will see that Launcelot senior scruples to give' his son the title of 
 
8C. II. OF VENICE. 117 
 
 Laun. \_Aside.'] Do I look like a cudgel, or a horel-post, a 
 staff, or a prop ? — \_To Mm.'] Do you riot 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 ? 
 
 Laun. J)o you not know me, father ? ' 
 
 Gol. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not. 
 
 Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of 
 the knowing me : it is a wise father that knows his own child. 
 Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son. \_Kneels, 
 with his back to him.'] Give me your blessing: truth will 
 come to light; murder cannot be hid long, — a man's son 
 may ; but, in the end, truth will out. 
 
 Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not 
 Launcelot, my boy. 
 
 Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but 
 give me yom* 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. [_Taking 
 hold of his back hair.] Lord worshipp'd might He be! 
 what a beard hast thou got ! thou hast got more hair on thy 
 chin, than Dobbin my phill-horse ° has on his tail." 
 
 Laun. [^Bisinff] 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 fa,ce, when I last saw him. 
 
 Gob. Lord, how art thou chang'd ! How dost thou and thy 
 master agree ? I have brought him a present. How 'gree 
 you now? 
 
 Laun. Well, well ; but, for mine own part, as I have set up 
 my rest " to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some 
 ground. My master's a very Jew : Give him a present ! give 
 him a halter : I am famish'd in his service ; you may tell every 
 finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come : 
 
 8 It was customary for young people to address any old man or woman as 
 father or mother. Hence old Gobbo does not recognize his soil on being 
 called father by him. 
 
 9 That is, iknft-hoTse, or horse that goes in the shafts. PMU is usually 
 printed ikUl; the editors probably not knowing that pkiU or fill was a common 
 form of thill. 
 
 1" A stage tradition makes young Launcelot turn the back of his head 
 to the old man, instead of his chin. 
 
 11 A phra«e from the old game of primero ; meaning, to stand upon the 
 cards you have in hand, hoping your adversary's hand will prove worse. 
 Hence to make up one's mind, or be determined. 
 
118 THE MERCHANT ACT II. 
 
 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.^^ — O, rare fortune ! here comes the 
 man : — to him, father ; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any 
 longer. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo, and other Followers. 
 
 Bass. You may do so ; but let it be so hasted, that supper 
 be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters 
 delivered ; put the liveries to making ; and desire Gratiano to 
 come anon to my lodging. \_Exit a Servant. 
 
 Laun. To him, father. 
 
 Goh. God bless your worship ! 
 
 Bass. Gramercy ! '^ Would' st thou aught with me ? 
 
 Goh. 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, — 
 
 Goi. Pie hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, t{ 
 serve, — 
 
 Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, 
 and I have a desire — as my father shall specify, — 
 
 Goh. His master and he (saving your worship's reverence) 
 are scarce cater-cousins," — 
 
 Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew having 
 done me wrong, doth cause me — as my father, being, I hope, 
 an old man, shall frutify unto you, — 
 
 Goh. I have here a dish of doves '' that I would bestow 
 upon your worship ; and my suit is, — 
 
 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. 
 
 Gol). That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 
 
 Bass. I know thee well ; thou hast obtain'd thy suit : 
 Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, 
 
 12 W^e must remember that in Venice it was not easy to find ground 
 enough to run upon. 
 
 13 Gvtai thanks! from the French grand merd. 
 
 1* Cater-cousin is commonly expkined fourth cousin; cofer being it is 
 said, from the Krench quatre. ' 
 
 15 There has been no little speculation among the later critics, whether 
 Shalcespeare ever visited Itnly. Mr. C. A. Brown argues strongly that he 
 did, and refers to this passage among others in proof of it: " Where did he 
 learn of an old vilhiger's cominj; into the city with ' a dish of doves ' as a 
 present to his son's master? A present thus given, and in our days too, and 
 of doves, is not uncommon in Italy. I myself have partaken "there 'with 
 due relish, in memory of poor old Gobbo, of a dish of doves, presented by 
 the father of a servant." ' 
 
SC. II. OF VENICE. 119 
 
 And hath preferr'd thee ; " if it he preferment 
 To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
 The follower of so poor a gentleman. 
 
 Lawn. The old proverb is very well parted between my 
 master Shylock and you, sir : you have the grace of God, sir, 
 and he hath enough.^' 
 
 Bass. Thou speak'st it well. — Go, father, with thy son. — 
 Take leave of thy old master, and inquire 
 My lodging out. — \_To his followers.^ Give him a livery 
 More guarded than his fellows' ; ■"* see it done. 
 
 Laun. Father, in: — I cannot get a service, no; — I have 
 ne'er a tongue in my head. — Well, \_Looking on his palm.'\ 
 if any man in Italy have a fairer table,^' which doth offer to 
 swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune ! — Go to ; here's 
 a simple line of life ! ^ here's a small trifle of wives ! Alas, 
 fifteen wives is nothing ! aleven widows and nine maids is a 
 simple coming-in for one man ; and then to 'scape drowning 
 thrice ; and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feath 
 er-bed ; — here are simple 'scapes ! ^-^ "Well, if Fortune be a 
 woman, she's a good wench for this gear.''^ — Father, come ; 
 m take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. 
 
 \_Exeunt Launcelot and old Gobbo. 
 
 Ba^s. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this : 
 These things being bought and orderly bestow'd, 
 Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 
 My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee ; go. 
 
 Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 
 
 Enter Gkatiano. 
 Gra. Where is your master ? 
 Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. \_Ex%t. 
 
 16 Recommended thee ; often so used. 
 
 1' " He that hath the grace of God hath enough," or something each, 
 appears to have been " the old proverb " in question. 
 
 18 That is, ornamented. Guards were trimmings, facings, or other orna- 
 ments, such as gold and silver lace. 
 
 19 Launcelot, applauding himself for his success with Bassanio, and look- 
 ing into the palm of his hand, which by fortune-tellers is called the table, 
 breaks out into the following reflection: " Well, if any man in Italy have a 
 fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book, t shall have good for- 
 tune; " that is, a tabh which doth not only promise, but offer to swear upon a 
 book, that I shall have good fortune. 
 
 20 The line in the palm passing round the root of the thumb was called 
 the line of life ; that which begins near the root of the littl'i finger, and ex- 
 tends towards the root of the fore-finger, was the line of fortune. 
 
 21 Launcelot was an adept in the Mrt of chiromancy, which in his time 
 had its learned professors and practitioners no less than astrology. In 1558 
 was putfoirth a book by John Indagine, entitled " Brief introductions, both 
 nutural, pleasant, and also delectable, unto the Art of Chiromancy, or man- 
 ual divination, and Physiognomy : with circumstances upon the faces of the 
 Signs." "A simple line of life" written in the palm was cause of exul- 
 tiition to wiser ones than young Gobbo. " The edge of a feather-bed " is 
 probably an absurd variation of the phrase " the edge of the sword." 
 
 22 See Act i. scene 1, note 'iO. 
 
120 TBE MERCHANT ACT II. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, — 
 
 Bass. Gratiano! 
 
 Gra. I have a suit to you. 
 -Bass. You have obtain'd it. 
 
 Gra. Nay, you must not deay me : I must go 
 With you to Belmont. 
 
 Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano : 
 Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ; 
 Parts that become thee happily enough. 
 And ui such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
 But where thou art not known, why, there they show 
 Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain. 
 T' allay with some cold drops of modesty 
 Thy skipping spirit ; lest, through thy wild behaviour, 
 I be misconstru'd in the place I go to,''* 
 And lose my hopes. 
 
 Grra. Signior Bassanio, hear me : 
 
 If I do not put on a sober habit. 
 Talk with respect, and swear 'but now and then, 
 Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ; 
 Nay, more, whUe grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
 Thus with my hat,^ and sigh, and say amen ; 
 Use all th' observance of civUity, 
 Like one well-studied in a sad ostent ^ 
 To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
 
 Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. 
 
 Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night ; you shall not gauge me 
 By what we do to-night.^° 
 
 Bass. No, that were pity : 
 
 I would entreat you rather to put on 
 Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
 That purpose merriment. But fare you well : 
 I have some business. 
 
 Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest ; 
 But we wUl visit you at suppeMime. ^^Exeuni. 
 
 ScEKE m. The Same. A Room in Shylock's Bouse. 
 
 Enter Jessica and Latjncelot. 
 
 Jess. I'm sorry thou wilt leave my father so : 
 Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, 
 
 28 Misconstru'd has the accent on the second syllable, and is spelt miscon- 
 ster'd in the old copies. See page 34, note 22. 
 
 24 People used to keep their hats on while enting dinner. While grace 
 was saving, they were expected to take the hat off and hold it over the eyes. 
 
 26 That is,grave appearance; sfoiioofstaidandseriousbehaviour. Oaietit 
 is a word very commonly used for skow among old dramatic writers. 
 
 26 Gauge is measure. 
 
SC. IV. OF VENICE. 121 
 
 Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
 But fare thee well ; there is a duoat 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. 
 
 Laum Adieu; tears exhibit my tongue.'" Most beautiful 
 pagan, most sweet Jew ! These foolish drops do somewhat 
 drown my manly spirit: adieu ! \_Exit, 
 
 Jess. Farewell, good Launcelot. — 
 Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
 To be asham'd to be my father's child ! 
 But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
 I am not to his manners. — O Lorenzo, 
 If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 
 Become a Christian, and thy loving wife ! \_Exit. 
 
 Scene JY. The Same. A Street. 
 Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Solanio. 
 
 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. 
 
 Sal. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers.^ 
 
 Sol. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd,'' 
 And better, in my mind, not undertook. 
 
 Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock : we have two hours 
 To furnish us. — 
 
 Enter Launcelot, with a Letter. 
 
 Friend Launcelot, what's the news ? 
 
 Laun. An it shall please you to break up this,* it shall seem 
 to signify. 
 
 Lot. I know the hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 
 And whiter than the paper that it writ on 
 Is the fair hand that writ. 
 
 Gra. Love-news, in faith. 
 
 Laun. By your leave, sir. 
 
 27 Exhibit is a Gobboism for inhibit ; that is, prevent or restrain. - 
 
 1 Old language, meaning the same as bespoken torch-bearers Jcrr us. 
 
 2 Quaintly^ derived from the Latin' comptus, was often used in the sense 
 of graceful, elegant. 
 
 8 An and an if were much in use with the simple force of if. — Break up 
 is old language for break open. 
 
122 THE MEKCHANT ACT II. 
 
 Lor. Whither goest thou ? 
 
 Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to- 
 night with my new master the Christian. 
 
 Lor. Hold here, take this. \_Giving him money. '\ Tell gen- 
 tle 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.* 
 
 Sal. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. 
 
 Sol. And so will I. 
 
 Lor. Meet me and Gratiano 
 
 At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 
 
 Sal. 'Tis good we do so. \Exeunt Salar. and SoLAif. 
 
 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 ; 
 What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with j 
 What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
 If e'er the Jew her father come to Heaven, 
 It will be for his gentle daughter's sake ; 
 And never dare Misfortune cross her foot, 
 Unless she do it under this excuse, — 
 That she is issue to a faithless Jew.° 
 Come, go with me : peruse this, as thou goest. 
 Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. \_ExewnJI,. 
 
 Scene V. The Same. Before Shylock's House. 
 Enter Shtlock and Launcelot. 
 
 Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, 
 The difference of old Shy lock and Bassanio : — 
 WTiat, Jessica ! — thou shalt not gormandize. 
 As thou hast done with me, — What, Jessica ! — 
 And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out. — 
 Why, Jessica, I say ! 
 
 Laun. Why, Jessica! 
 
 Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call. 
 
 Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do noth- 
 ing without bidding. 
 
 Enter Jessica. 
 
 Jess. Call you ? What is your will ? 
 Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica : 
 
 4 The prepositions o/", with, and btj, were often used indifferently. So, in 
 Bacon's Aiiiiancemmt of Learning : '• He is invested of a precedent dispo- 
 sition," See page 106, note 7. 
 
 6 Fcathlest is simply wUhoid faith, unbelieving. 
 
SC. v. OF VENICE. 123 
 
 There are my keys. — But wherefore should I go ? 
 
 I am not ))id for love ; they flatter me : 
 
 But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
 
 The prodigal Christian.' — Jessica, my girl, 
 
 Look to my house. — I am right loth to go ; 
 
 There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
 
 For 1 did dream of money-bags to-night. 
 
 Laun. I beseech you, sir, go.: my young master doth expect 
 your reproach. 
 
 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-Monday last ' 
 at six o'clock i' the morning, falling out that year on Ash- 
 Wednesday was four year in the afternoon. 
 
 Shy. Wiiat, are there masks ? — Hear you me, Jessica : 
 Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum. 
 And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife,* 
 Clamber not -you up to the casements then. 
 Nor thrust your head into the public street. 
 To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces : ' 
 But stop my house's ears,^ — -I mean my casements; 
 Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
 My sober house. — By Jacob's staff," I swear 
 I have no mind of feasting forth to-night ; 
 But I will go. — Go you before me, sirrah ; 
 Say, I wUl come. 
 
 1 In Act i. scene 3, Shylock saj's, " I will wA tat with yon, drink with 
 yon, nor pray with yon." Did the Poet commit an orersight, or did he 
 mean to put the Jew at odds with himself out of hatred to the Christian ? 
 
 2 Reproach is a Gobboism for approach, as, in a former &aene,f ratify is 
 for certify. Shylock chooses to take him in the sense of reproach. And he 
 expects Bassanio's reproach through the bankruptcy of Antonio. This may 
 have some tiearing on the question whether Shylock has any hand.-in getting 
 up the reports of Antonio's " losses at sea," which reports, it seems, turn out 
 false at last. 
 
 ' Haster-llonday. The origin of the name is thus explained by Stowe : 
 " In the 34th of Edward III., the 14fh of April, and the morrow after Easter- 
 day, King Kdward, 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 horses' backs with the cold. Wherefore unto this day it_ hath 
 been called Blach-Mortcb.y.''^ — Bleeding at the -mse was anciently considered 
 ominous. * 
 
 ^ One of the quartos and the folio have sqnealing. There has been some 
 dispute whether mry-neck'd fife mean the instrument or the musician. Bos- 
 well cited a p.issage ft'om Barnabe Rich's Aphorisms, 1618, which appears to 
 settle the matter : " A ffe is a lory^eckt musician, for he always looks away 
 from his instrument." 
 
 6 Alluding perhaps to the painted masks ; but meaning, withal, an insin- 
 uation of duplicity, or doublefacedness. 
 
 6 Hebrews xi." 21: "By faith, Jacob, when he was a-dying, blessed both 
 the sons of' Joseph; and worshipped, leaning upon the top of his staff." 
 
124 THE MERCHANT ACT II. 
 
 Lawn. I will go before, sir. — Mistress, look out at window 
 fvir all this ; 
 
 There will come a Christian by, 
 
 "Will be worth a Jewess' eye.' \Exit Latjn. 
 
 Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? 
 
 Jess. His words were, Farewell, mistress ; nothing else. 
 
 Shy. The patch is kind enough : * but a huge feeder, 
 SnaU-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 
 His borrow'd purse. — Well, Jessica, go in : 
 Perhaps, I will return immediately. 
 Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you : 
 Fast bind, fast find ; 
 A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. \JExit, 
 
 Jess. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, 
 I have a father, you a daughter lost. \_Exit, 
 
 Enter Gratiano and Salarino, maslced. 
 
 Gra. This is the pent-house imder which Lorenzo 
 Desir'd us to make stand. 
 
 Sal. His hour is almost past. 
 
 Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour. 
 For lovers ever run before the clock. 
 
 Sal. O, 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 
 His tedious measures with th' imbated fire 
 That he did pace them first ? All things that are, 
 Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
 How like a younker or a prodigal 
 The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
 Hugg'd and embraced by the [wanton] wind ! 
 How like a prodigal doth she return, 
 
 ' ' The worth of a Jew's eye wns the price with which the Jews used to 
 buy themselves off from mutilation. The expression became proverbial, and 
 was kept up long after its origin-il meaning was lost. 
 
 8 This use ot patch is said to have sprung from the motley or patched 
 dress worrt by professional l?ools. Hence a general term of contempt. So, in 
 a Midsummer-Night's Dream, iii. 2: "A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, 
 that work fur bread upon Athenian stalls." . 
 
 9 The allusion seems to be to the dmes by which Venus's chariot a 
 drawn. 
 
 1" Obliged faith is plighted faith. 
 
SC. V OF VENICE. 125 
 
 "With over-weatlier'd ribs, and ragged sails, 
 Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the [wanton] wind ! " 
 ScU. Here comes Lorenzo : — more of this hereafter. 
 
 Miter LoEENZO. 
 
 Zor. 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, 
 m watch as long for you then. — Come, approach ; 
 Here dwells my father Jew. — Ho '. who's within ? 
 
 Miter Jessica above, in Bo^s Clothes. 
 
 Jess. Who are you ? Tell me for more certainty, 
 Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 
 
 Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 
 
 Jess. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love indeed ; 
 For whom love I so much ? And now who knows . 
 But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 
 
 Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. 
 
 Jess. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains. 
 Pm glad 'tis night, you do not look on me. 
 For I am much asham'd of my exchange ; '* 
 But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
 The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 
 For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
 To see me thus transformed to a boy. 
 
 Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 
 
 Jess. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? 
 They in themselves, good sooth, are too-too light." 
 Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love ; 
 And I should be obscur'd. 
 
 Lor. So are you, sweet, 
 
 Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
 But come at once ; 
 
 For the close ^^ night doth play the run-away, 
 And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 
 
 Jess. I will make fast the doors, and gUd myself 
 With some more ducats, and be with you straight. 
 
 \_Exit, from above, 
 
 11 This passage well illustrates how the Poet's text ou^ht to be printed, 
 especially the verse. In chased, scarfed, and embraced, the verse plainly requirea' 
 the e£? to be a distinct syllable ; the contrary of which as plainly holds in en- 
 joy^d, hugg'd, over-weatker^d^ and beggared. See page 103, note 25. 
 
 12 Long tarrying. 
 
 18 Exchange of clothes. 
 
 1* A pun implied, between light in a material and light in a moral sense. 
 
 ifi Close is secret, what conceals or keeps dark. 
 
126 THE MERCHANT ACT II. 
 
 Gra Now, by my hood, a Gentile,^' and no Jew. 
 
 Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily ; 
 For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 
 And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 
 And true she is, as she hath proVd herself; 
 And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, 
 Shall she be placed in my constant soul. — 
 
 Enter Jessica, helow. 
 
 "What, art thou come ? — On, gentlemen ; away ! 
 Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 
 
 [_Exit, with Jessica and Salakino 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Ant. Who's there? 
 
 Gra. Signior Antonio ? 
 
 Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano 1 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 wUl go aboard : 
 I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 
 
 Gra. I'm glad on't : I desire no more delight, 
 Than to be imder sail, and gone to-night. \_E3xurU. 
 
 Scene VI. Belmont. A Boom in Portia's JToiise. 
 
 Flourish of Cornets. Enter Portia, with the Prince of 
 Morocco, and both their Trains. 
 
 For. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover 
 The' several caskets to this noble Prince. — 
 Now make your choice. 
 
 Mor. The first, of gold, which 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, duU 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 ? 
 
 Por. The one of them contains my picture. Prince : 
 If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
 
 1' Gratiano is disguised -with a maslc, and in swearing by Iiis hood he im- 
 plies a liltening of liiraaolf to a hooded inonlc swearing by his monastic 
 character. — There is also a piny on the word gentile, which signifies loth a 
 heathen and one well-bom ; perhaps referring also to her generosity as con- 
 trasted with her fiither's avarice. 
 
so. VI. OP VENICE 127 
 
 Mor. Some god direct my judgment ! Let me see ; 
 I will survey th' inscriptions back again. 
 What says this leaden casket? 
 Who chopseth me must give and hazard all he hath. 
 Must give, — For what? for lead? hazard for lead? 
 This casket threatens : Men that hazard aU 
 Do it in hope of fair advantages. 
 A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 
 I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
 What says the silver, with her virgin hue ? 
 Who ehooseth me shall get as m,uch 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 tlie lady : 
 And yet to be afeard of my deserving, 
 Were but a weak disabling of myself. 
 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 grav'd in gold : 
 Who ehooseth 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.' 
 Th' Hyrcanian deserts ^ and the vasty wilds 
 Of wide Arabia are as through-fares 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 danmation, 
 To think so base a thought : it were too gross 
 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.' 
 
 1 Christians often made long pilgrimages to kiss the shrine of a saint, 
 ihat is, the place where a saint's Ijones were enshrined. And Portia, hecaiiKe 
 she enshrines so much excellence, though still but " a traveller between life 
 and death," is compared to such a hallowed shrine. 
 
 2 A wilderness of indefinite extent south of the Caspian Sea. 
 
 8 That is, lead were unworthy even to enclose her cerements, or her 
 shroud. The Poet elsewhere has rib in the sense of enclose or protect: in 
 Cymbetine^ iii. 1, he speaks of England as ** Neptune's park, ribbed and paled 
 in with rocks unscaleable and roaring waters." — It would seem that discuri 
 
128 THE MKKCHANT ACT IL 
 
 Or shall I think in silver she's immur'd, 
 
 Being ten times undervalu'd to tried gold?'* 
 
 O sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem 
 
 Was set in worse than gold. They have in England 
 
 A coin that bears the figure of an angel 
 
 Stamped in gold,^ but that's insculp'd upon ; 
 
 But here an angel in a golden bed 
 
 Lies all within. — Deliver me the key ; 
 
 Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! 
 
 For. There, take it, Prince ; and if my form lie there, 
 Then I am yours. [Be unlocks the golden Gasket. 
 
 Mar. Hell ! what have we here ? 
 
 A carrion Death," within whose empty eye 
 There is a written scroll ! I'll read the writing. 
 
 [Reads.] All that glisters is not gold ; 
 
 Often have you heard that told : 
 Many a man his life hath sold, 
 But my outside to behold: 
 Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
 Had you been as wise as bold, 
 Young in limbs, in Judgment old. 
 Your answer had not been inscroWd: 
 Fare you well ; your suit is cold. 
 
 Cold indeed, and labour lost ; 
 
 Then, farewell heat, and welcome frost ! — 
 Portia, adieu ! I have too griev'd a heart 
 To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. [-En'J with Train. 
 
 Par. A gentle riddance. — Draw the curtains, go : 
 Let aU of his complexion choose me so. \_ExewKt, 
 
 Scene VH. Venice. A Street. 
 
 Enter Salakino and Solanio. 
 
 Sal. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail : 
 With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
 And in their ship I'm sure Lorenzo is not. 
 
 here was meant to have the first syllable long. The Post has many instances 
 of like usage. However, it is to be noted that he otifcea allows and even pre- 
 fers a Dibrach or a Spondee in any part of the line. 
 
 ^ This is said to have been just the ratio of silver and gold in the year 
 1800. Now it is about 1 to 15. 
 
 6 The angel appears to have been the national coin in Shakespeare's 
 time. The custom of stamping an angel upon the coin is thus explained by 
 Verstegan, in his RestUuiion of Decayed JntelUgence : " The name of £ngel 
 is yet at this present in all the Teutonic tongues as much as to say, an Angel i 
 and if a Dutchman be asked how he would in his language call 'an Angela 
 like-man, he would answer, ein linf/lhh-mnn " 
 
 6 A human skull from which the flesh has all decaved. 
 
sc. vn, OF TENicE. 129 
 
 Sol. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the Duke, 
 Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 
 
 Sal. 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 
 They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
 
 Sol. I never heard a passion so confus'd, 
 So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 
 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 d,ucats, stoVnfrom me by my daughter! 
 And jewels, — two stones, two rich and precious stones, 
 Stol'n by my daughter ! — Justice ! find the girl ! 
 She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats ! 
 
 Sal. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, 
 Crying, — his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 
 
 Sol. Let good Antonio look he keep his day. 
 Or he shall pay for this. 
 
 Sal. Marry, well remember'd. 
 
 I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday,^ 
 Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
 The French and English, there miscarried 
 A vessel of our country richly fraught : 
 I thought upon Antonio when he told me ; 
 And wish'd in sUence that it were not his. 
 
 Sol. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ; 
 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 
 
 Sal. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
 I saw Bassanio and Antonio part. 
 Bassanio told him he would make some speedy 
 Of his return : he answer'd, Do not so ; 
 Slubber not business for my sake^ Bassanio, 
 But stay the very riping of the time : 
 And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
 Let it net enter in your mind of love.' 
 
 1 The Poet uses both reason and question in the sense of converse — Marry, 
 as stated page 24, note 5, was a colloquial intensive, which probablj' grew 
 into use from a custom of swearing by St. Mary the Virgin. 
 
 2 To slubber is to do a thing carelessly. Thus, in Fuller's Worthies of 
 Yorkshire: "Slightly slubbering it over, doing something for show, and 
 nothing to purpose." 
 
 8 Mind of love probably means loving mind, or mind full of love. The 
 Poet elsewhere has mind of honour for honourable mind. 
 
 9 
 
130 THE MEKCHANT ACT II. 
 
 Be merry ; and employ your chief est thoughts 
 
 To courtship, and such fair ostents of love * 
 
 As shall conveniently become you there. 
 
 And even then, his eye being big with tears, 
 
 Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
 
 And with affection wondrous sensible 
 
 He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted. 
 
 Sol. I think he only loves the world for him. 
 I pray thee, let us go and find him out, 
 And quicken his embraced heaviness * 
 With some delight or other. 
 
 Sal, Do we so. [_Exeurit. 
 
 Scene YTII. Belmont. A Room in Poetia's House. 
 
 Miter Nerissa, with a Servant. 
 
 Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee ; draw the curtain straight : 
 The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, 
 And comes to his election presently. 
 
 Flourish of Garnets, Enter the Prince of Arragon, PoETiAi 
 and their Trains. 
 
 For. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble Prince : 
 If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, 
 Straight shall our nuptial rites be solenmiz'd ; 
 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
 You must be gone from hence immediately. 
 
 Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath t' observe three things : 
 First, never to unfold to any one 
 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. 
 
 For. To these injunctions every one doth swear 
 That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 
 
 Ar. And so have I address'd me.^ Fortune now 
 To my heart's hope ! — Gold, silver, and base lead. 
 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 
 
 * See page 120, note 25. 
 
 6 The heaviness he is fond of, or cherishes. 
 
 1 Addreii'd is prepared, made ready. See page 94, note 19. 
 
SC. VIII. OF VENICE. 
 
 By the fool multitude,^ that choose by show, 
 
 Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach ; 
 
 Which pries not to th' interior, but, like the martlel, 
 
 Builds in the weather on the outward wall, 
 
 Even in the force and road of casualty. 
 
 I will not choose what many men desire, 
 
 Because I will not jump with common spirits,' 
 
 And rank me with the barbarous multitude. 
 
 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. 
 
 O, that estates, degrees, and offices, 
 
 Were not deriv'd corruptly ! and that clear honour 
 
 Were purchas'd 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 m,uch as he deserves. 
 
 I will assume desert. — Give me a key for this, 
 
 And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 
 
 Par. Too long a pause for that which you find there. 
 
 Ar. 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 get as much as he deserves. 
 Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
 Is that my prize? are my deserts no better? 
 
 Por. T' offend, and judge, are distinct offices, 
 And of opposed natures. 
 
 Ar. What is here ? 
 
 The fire seven times tried this: 
 Seven times tried that judgment is, 
 That did never choose amiss. 
 Some there he that shadows kiss ; 
 Such have but a shadow's bliss. 
 
 131 
 
 2 By again for of. See page 106, note J. 
 8 .To Jwiip with is to a^j'ee with. 
 
132 THE MERCHANT *-CT U- 
 
 There he fools alive, I wis, 
 Silver'd o'er ; and so was this. 
 Take what wife you will to bed,* 
 I will ever be your head : 
 So be gone, sir ; you are sped. 
 
 Still more fool I shall appear 
 
 By the time I linger here : 
 
 With one fool's head 1 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 sing'd the moth. 
 O, these deliberate fools ! when they do choose, 
 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
 
 Ner. The ancient saying is ho heresy : 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 
 JPor. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sen). Where is my lady ? 
 
 Por. Here : what would my lord ? ' 
 
 Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
 A young Venetian, one that comes before 
 To sigmfy th' approaching of his lord, 
 From whom he bringeth sensible regreets ; '' 
 To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 
 Gifts of rich value. Yet T 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'lt say anon he is some kin to thee, 
 
 * An apparent oversight of the Poet's : the Prince was sworn " never to 
 woo a maid in way of marriage." Perhaps, though, he might woo and marry 
 a undtm. ^ 
 
 6 Wrolh is used in some of the old writers for suffering. Thus, in Chap- 
 man's 22d Iliad: ''Bora all to wruth of woe and labour." The original 
 meaning of wrath is pain, grief, anger, any thing that makes one writhe; 
 and the text exemplifies a common form of speech, putting the effect for tlie 
 cause. 
 
 6 A merrj' reply to the Messenger's " Where is mi/ Inrlij t " So, in Rich- 
 ard //., Act V. scene 5, the Oroom says to the King, — " Hail, royal prince ! " 
 and he replies, '■ Tlianks, noble peer." And in 1 Henry /F., Act ii scene 4, 
 the Hostess says to Prince Henry, — " Jesu ! my lord, the prince; " and he 
 replies, " How now, my lady, the hostess ! " 
 
 ' Sensible regreets are feeling salutations, or salutations that may be felt, 
 such as valuable presents. 
 
sc. I. OP TiiNicE. 183 
 
 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. 
 
 Ner. Bassanio, Lord Love, if thy will it be ! \JExeunt. 
 
 ACT in. Scene I. Venice. A Street. 
 Enter SoLANio and Salarino. 
 
 Sol. Now, what news on the Rialto ? 
 
 Scd. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd, that Antonio hath a 
 ship of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow seas ; the Good- 
 wins,^ I think they call the place ; a very dangerous flat and 
 fatal, where the carcasses of many a taU ship he buried, as they 
 say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word. 
 
 Sol. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever 
 knapp'd ginger,^ or made her neighbours believe she wept for 
 the death of a tliird husband. But it is true, without any slips 
 of prolixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk, that the 
 good Antonio, the honest Antonio, — O, that I had a title good 
 enough to keep his name company ! — 
 
 Sal. Come, the fuU stop. 
 
 Sol. Ha, — what say'st thou ? — Wliy, the end is, he hath 
 lost a ship. 
 
 Sal. I would it might prove the end of his losses.. 
 
 Sol. Let me say amen betimes, lest the Devil cross my 
 prayer; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. — 
 
 Enter Shtlock. 
 
 How now, Shylock ! what news among the merchants ? 
 
 Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my 
 daughter's flight. 
 
 Sal. That's certain : I, for my part, knew the tailor that 
 made the wings she flew withal.^ 
 
 Sol. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was 
 fledg'd; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave 
 the dam.^ 
 
 .1 The Goodwin Sands, as they were called, lay off the eastern coast of 
 Kent. The name was supposed to have been derived from Earl Godwin, 
 whose lands were said to have been swallowed up there in the year 1100. 
 In King John, v. 5, it is said that the supplies expected by the I'rench " are 
 cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sanfls." 
 
 2 To "knap is to break short. The word occurs in the Book of Common 
 Prayer: " He knappeth the spear in sunder." 
 
 8 Salarino probably has a sly allusion to the dress in which Jessica 
 eloped. 
 
 4 Complexi(m was much used for natural temperament, or constitutional 
 
la4 THE MEKCHANT ACT UI. 
 
 Shy. She 18 damn'd for it. 
 
 Sal. That's certain, if the Devil may be her judge. 
 
 Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! 
 
 Sol. Out upon it, old carrion ! rebels it at these years ? 
 
 Shy. I say my daughter is my flesh and blood. 
 
 Sal. 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.' But tell us, do you 
 hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no ? 
 
 Shy. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a 
 prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto ; — 
 a beggar, that us'd 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. 
 
 Sal. Whj, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his 
 flesh : What's that good for ? 
 
 Shy. To bait fish withal : if it wiU feed nothing else, it will 
 feed my revenge. He hath disgrac'd me, and hinder'd me 
 half a million ; ' laugh'd at my losses, mock'd at my gains, 
 scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, 
 heated mine enemies ; and what's his reason ? I am a Jew. 
 Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimen- 
 sions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same food, 
 hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, 
 healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same 
 Winter and Summer, as a Christian is ? If you prick us, do 
 we not bleed ? if you tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you 
 poison us,- do we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not 
 revenge ? if we are like you in the rest, we wUl resemble 
 you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humil- 
 ity ? revenge : if a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his 
 sufferance be by Christian example ? why, revenge. The 
 villainy you teach me, 1 wUl execute ; and it shall go hard, 
 but I will better the instruction.' 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and 
 desires to speak with you both. 
 
 texture and grain. In the old tale upon which Samlet was partly founded, 
 the liero is spoken of as being a " Saturuist by complexion," referring to his 
 melancholy disposition. 
 
 s Khenisli wines are called white wines ; named from the river Rhine. 
 
 6 Smucj is brisk, gny, or sm-uce ; applied both to persons and things. Thus, 
 in Kinn Lear, iv. 6: "I will die bravely, like a smug bridegroom: what, I 
 will be jovial." And in 1 Henry IV., iii. 1 : " Here the smug and silver 
 Trent shall run in a new channel, fair and evenly." 
 
 ' Hinder d me to the extent of hiilf a million; ducats, of course. 
 
 8 I Tirill work mighty hard rallier than fail to surpass my teachera. 
 
SC. I. OF VENICE. 136 
 
 Sal. We have been up and down to seek him. , 
 Sol. Here comes another of the tribe : a third cannot be 
 match'd, unless the Devil himself turn Jew. 
 
 lUxeunt Solan., Salae., and Servant. 
 
 Miter Tubal. 
 
 Shy. 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. 
 
 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 hears'd 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 o' my shoulders ; no sighs but o' my breathing ; 
 no tears but o' my shedding. 
 
 Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too. Antonio, as I 
 heard in Genoa, — 
 
 Shy. What, what, what ? ill luck, iU luck ? 
 
 Tub. — hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. 
 
 Shy. I thank God, I thank God ! — Is it true, is it 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, one night 
 fourscore ducats. 
 
 Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me : I shall never see my 
 gold again. Fourscore ducats at a sitting ! fourscore ducats ! 
 
 2\ib. 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. 
 
 9 The Ttirquoise is a precious stone found in the veins of the mountains 
 on the confines of Persia to the east. In old times its value was much en- 
 
136 THE MERCHANT ACT HI. 
 
 Tuh. But Ajitonio is certainly undone. 
 
 Shy. Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee me 
 au officer ; bespeak him a fortnight before. 1 will have the 
 heart of him, if he forfeit ; for, were he out of Venice, I can 
 make what merchandise I will. Go, Tubal, and meet me at 
 our synagogue ; go, good Tubal ; at our synagogue. Tubal. 
 
 \^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. Belmont. A Room in Poktia's Home. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Poktia, Gkatiano, Nerissa, and Attend- 
 ants. The caskets are set out. 
 
 Par. 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 yom-self. 
 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 
 How to choose right, but then I am forsworn ; 
 So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
 But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, — 
 That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 
 They have o'erlook'd me;' and divided me ; 
 One half of me is yours, th' other half yours, — 
 Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours, 
 And so all yours. O, these naughty times 
 Put bars between the owners and their rights ! 
 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so,^ 
 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. 
 
 hancod by the magic properties attrihuted to it in common -with other precious 
 stones, one of wliicli was that it faded or brightened as the health of the 
 wearer increased or grew less. 
 
 1 To be o'erlook'd, fureluvked, or eye-tiiien, was a term for being bemiched 
 by an evil eye. 
 
 ^ If it prove so. P.'rtia here means a good deal more than meets the 
 ear; that if it prove so, the fault will be Fortune's, yet she herself will have 
 to bear the pain. 
 
 a lo ftize is from peser, French; to weigh or balance. So, in Rkhard 
 HI.: " L,est leaden slumber prize me down to-morrow." In the text it is 
 used figuratively for to suspenri, ro retard, or delay the time. Mr. Uyce 
 changes ^622:c to piece, whicli may be right. 
 
SC. II. OF VENICE. 137 
 
 J^<iss. Let me choose ;' 
 
 For, as I am, I live upon the rack. 
 
 Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio ! then confess 
 What treason there is mingled with your love. 
 
 Bass. ' None but that ugly treason of mistrust. 
 Which makes me fear th' enjoying of my love : * 
 There may as well be amity and league 
 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 
 
 Por. 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. 
 
 Por. Well then, confess, and live. 
 
 Bass. Confess, and love, 
 
 Had been the very sum of my confession. 
 O happy torment, when my torturer 
 Doth teach me answers for deliverance ! 
 But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
 
 Por.- Away then ! I am lock'd in one of them : 
 If you do love me, you will find me out. — 
 Nerissa, and the rest, stand all aloof. — 
 Let inusic sound, whUe he doth make his choice ; 
 , Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end,^ 
 Fading in music : that the comparison 
 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream 
 And watery death-bed for him. He may win. 
 And what is music then ? then music is 
 Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
 To a new-crowned monarch : ^ such it is 
 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 
 Tlie issue of th' exploit. Go, Hercules ! 
 
 * Fear in the sense of doubt ; fear the not enjoving of ray love. — League, 
 in the next line, is Mr. Walker's correction of life, the old reading. 
 
 ^ Alluding to the opinion which long prevailed, that the swan uttered a 
 plaintive musical sound at the approach of death. 
 
 6 It is an old custom in English coronations to have the putting on of the 
 crown announced hy a flourish of trumpets. 
 
 ' The story, as told by Ovid, is, that Hesione, daughter of the Trojan 
 King, being demanded by the Sea-monster, and being bound to a roclt, Her- 
 cules slew the monster, and delivered her Bassanio " goes with much more 
 iove," because Hercules went, not from love of the lady, but to gain the 
 reward offered bv L lomedon. 
 
13^ THE MERCHANT ACT III. 
 
 Live thou, I live. With much, much more dismay 
 I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray. 
 
 Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the Caskets to himself. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Tell me, where is fancy hred^ 
 Or in the heart, or in the head ? 
 How begot, how nourished? 
 
 _ Eeply, 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; 
 III begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 
 All. Ding, dong, bell. 
 
 Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves : 
 The world is still deceiVd with ornament. 
 In law, what plea so tainted and eomipt. 
 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 ? 
 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 wHte as milk ! ** 
 And these assume but valour's excrement,^^ 
 
 8 Fancy is often used by the Poet for Ime ; but that can hardly be the 
 meaning here. Probably it refers to the ithision which has misled the other 
 suitors, who, as Portia says, " have the wisdom by their wit to lose." And 
 that illusion " dies in the cradle where it lies," as soon as it is brought to the 
 test of experience by opening the wrong casket. Perhaps the song is meant 
 as a sort of riddle, to start Bassanio on the right track, or to make him dis- 
 ti'ustful of such shows as catch the fancy. 
 
 9 To ap^'ove it is to mnA(; it good, to prove it true ; often so used. ^ 
 1" Perhaps the Poet had in mind the saying of the Son of Sirach: "As 
 
 hills of sand are to the steps of the aged, so is one of many words to a quiet 
 man." Perhaps it should be ^^ stays of sand," or stayers; that is, props, or 
 supports. 
 
 It Cowards were commonly spoken of as having white livers. Shake- 
 speare has lily-livered and milk-livered and 7m7/:so/? in the same sense ; and 
 Falstaff instructs us that " the second property of your excellent sherris is 
 the warming of the blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver 
 whi'e and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice." 
 
 12 Kxcremmt, fro ;i excresco, is used for every thing which appears to 
 grow or vegetate upon the human body, as the ha'ir, the beard, the nails. 
 
so. II. OF VENICE. 139 
 
 To render them redoubted. Look on beauty, 
 And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight ; 
 Which therein works a miracle in nature, 
 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 
 T" 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 plainness moves me more than eloquence ; " 
 And here choose I. Joy be the consequence ! 
 Por. How all the other passions fleet to air. 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair. 
 And shuddering fear, and green-ey'd jealousy ! 
 love, be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ; 
 
 13 Anotber quibble upon li^iM. See page 125, note 14. Here, however, it 
 is between light as opposed to heavy, and hght in the sense of vanity. 
 1* That is, imagined or imputed fairness. 
 
 15 The Poet has often expressed a strong dislike of the custom, then in 
 vogue, of wearing false hair. His 68th Sonnet has a passage very like that 
 in the text : 
 
 *' Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, 
 When beauty liv'd and died as flowers do now; 
 Before the golden tresses of the dead. 
 The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, 
 To live a second life on second head ; 
 Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay." 
 
 16 GuUed for gviling ; that is, beguiling. The Poet ofl:en thus uses the 
 passive form with an active sense, and vice versa. In Act i. scene 3, of this 
 play, we have beholding for beholden. 
 
 1' Such is the only arrangement I can make up my mind to, in this 
 troublesome passage. Both the old and recent editions give it " veiling an 
 Indian beauty." As printed in the text, the only objection I can think of to 
 it is, thai Bassanio is speaking of ornament, not beauty. But I cannot see 
 that this amounts to much; for he has jast used '■'■beauteous scarf" to express 
 
 a form of ornament. ,,,.-, j t. •l. ..i, .. 
 
 18 Midas was a mythological personage who asked of Orod Baccnus thnt 
 whatever he touched might be turned into gold. The request being granted, 
 and all his food turning to gold in the eating, he implored Bacchus to revoke 
 
 the favour. , „ , . t. i n. t. i i, . 
 
 19 The old copies have paleness mstead of plainness. But the I'oet has 
 just spoken of silver a.!, pale, and he would hardly applv the same epithet to 
 lead. Moreover, iJtaJreness malies a right antithesis to eloquence. 
 
140 THE MERCHANT , ACT III 
 
 In measure rain thy joy ; scant this excess ! 
 I feel too much thy blessing ; make it less, 
 For fear I surfeit ! 
 
 Bass. [ Opening the leaden Gasket.'] What find I here ? 
 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 
 A golden mesh t' 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 unfm-nish'd.^^ Yet look, how far 
 The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow 
 In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
 Doth limp behind the substance. — Here's the scroll, 
 The continent and summary of my fortune : ^^ 
 
 You that choose not hy the view, 
 Chance as fair, and choose as true! 
 Since this fortune falls to you, 
 Be content and seek no new. 
 If you he well pleas' d with this, 
 And hold your fortune for your bliss. 
 Turn you where your lady is, 
 And claim her with a loving hiss. 
 
 A gentle scroll. — Fair lady, by your leave ; 
 
 I come by note, to give and to receive. \Kissing her. 
 
 Like one of two contending in a pi-ize. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 20 Cmmterfeit aneiently signiSed a likeness, a resemblance. So, in The 
 Wit of a Woman, 1634 : " I will see if I can agree with this stranger for the 
 drawing of my daughter's counterfeit." And Hamlet calls the pictures he 
 shows to his mother, " The cmmterfeit presentment of two brothers." 
 
 21 That is, unfurnished with a companion or fellow. In Fletcher's Lover'i 
 Progress, Alcidon says to Clarang^, on delivering Lidian's challenge, which 
 Clarang^ accepts : 
 
 " Ybu are a noble gentleman. 
 ' Will't please you bring a Iriend ? we are two of us, 
 
 And pity either, sir, should be urtfurnish^d." 
 
 82 Cantinent, in old English, is simply that which contains something. 
 
SC. H. OF VENICE. 14-1 
 
 As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
 Until conflrm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 
 
 Por. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand. 
 Such as I am : though for myself alone 
 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, cnly 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, unpractis'd : 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
 But she may learn ; then happier in this. 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
 Happiest of all, in 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. 
 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, 
 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 
 Among the buzzing pleased multitude ; 
 Where every something, being blent together. 
 Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
 Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring 
 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence : 
 O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead ! 
 
 Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time. 
 That have stood by, and seen our wishes prosper. 
 To cry, good joy : Good joy, my lord and lady ! 
 
 28 So the quartos ; tlie folio has jw^fo'ni?, which does not seem to cohere 
 very well with the words, " which, to tenn in gross." Following the intel- 
 ligent editors of the " Globe Edition," I insert a dash before mmelMng, to 
 in'nicate hesitation on the fair speaker's part for a term with whidi to dust-ribs 
 herself modestly, yet without auy affectation of modesty. 
 
142 THE MERCHANT ACT Ul. 
 
 Gra. Mj Lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
 I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
 For I am sure you can wish none from me : 
 And, when your honours mean to solemnize 
 The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
 Even at that time I may be married too. 
 
 JBass. 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 loVd, I loVd ; for intermission 
 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
 Your fortune stood upon the caskets there. 
 And so did mine too; as the matter falls ; 
 For wooing here, until I swet 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 
 AchieVd her mistress. 
 
 Por. Is this true, Nerissa? 
 
 Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. 
 
 £ass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good feith ? 
 
 Gra. Yes, 'faith, my lord. 
 
 Bass. Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage. 
 
 Cfra. But who comes here ? Lorenzo, and his infidel ? 
 What, and my old Venetian friend, Solanio?^ 
 
 Enter Loeenzo, Jessica, and Solanio. 
 
 jBoss. Lorenzo and Solanio, 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. 
 
 24 We are not to understand by this that Nerissa is merely a servant-maid 
 or waiting-woman to Portia: she holds the place of conipanion or friend, and 
 Pjrtia all along treats her as such. They are as nearly equals in rank, as 
 Bassanio and Gratiano are, who are a pair of friends, not master and servant. 
 Nor does it conflict with this, that Gratiano speaks of Portia as " her mis- 
 tress ; " for he is in a position -that requires him to plead his present cause 
 wiih a good deal of modesty and deference, lest he should seem to have 
 abused his privilege of accompanying Bassanio on this loving voyage. 
 
 25 In the old copies, this latter name is given as Sahrio ; and modem 
 editions generally regard him as a distinct person from Solanio; one who 
 appears nowhere but in this scene. But Gratiano's speaking of him as " my 
 old Venetiun friend " naturally refers us to the man who has hitherto been 
 known as Solanio ; so that I have little scruple in adopting the change made 
 by Mr. Dyce. None of the old copies gives any list of the persona rep- 
 resented. 
 
sc. ir. QP VENICE. 143 
 
 Por. So do I, my lord : 
 
 They are entirely welcome. 
 
 Lor. I thank your honour. — For my part, my lord, 
 My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
 But meeting with Solanio by the way, 
 He did entreat me, past aU saying nay. 
 To come with him along. 
 
 Sol. I did, my lord. 
 
 And I have reason for't. Siguier Antonio 
 Commends him to you. [ Gives Bassanio a Letter. 
 
 Bass. Ere I ope his letter, 
 
 I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 
 
 Sol. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 
 Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
 Will show you his estate. 
 
 Gra. Nerissa, cheer yond stranger ; bid her welcome. — 
 Your hand, Solanio : What's the news from Venice ? 
 How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 
 I know he will be glad of our success : 
 We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 
 
 Sol. Would you had won the fleece that he hath lost ! 
 
 Por. There are some shrewd contents in yond same paper,™ 
 That steal the colour from Bassanio's cheek : 
 Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world 
 Could turn so much the constitution 
 Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ! — 
 With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself, 
 And I must have the half of any thing 
 That this same paper brings you. 
 
 Bass. sweet Portia! 
 
 Here are a few of ttie unpleasant'st words 
 That ever blotted paper. Gentle lady. 
 When I did first impart my love to you, 
 I freely told you, all the wealth I had 
 Ran in my veins, — I was a gentleman : 
 And then I told you true ; and yet, dear lady, 
 Eating myself at nothing, you shall see 
 How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
 My state was nothing, I should then have told you 
 That I was worse than nothing ; for, indeed, 
 I have engag'd myself to a dear friend, 
 J^ingag'd my friend to his mere enemy, 
 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady, — 
 The paper as the body of my friend. 
 And every word in it a gaping wound, 
 
 W Shrewd, in old language, is sharp, biting. See page 95, note 2] 
 
144 THE MERCHANT ACT III. 
 
 Issuing life-blood. ■:— But is it true, Solanio ? 
 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 ? 
 
 Sol. Not one, my lord. 
 
 Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
 The present money to discharge the Jew, 
 He would not take it. Never did I know 
 A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
 So keen and greedy to confound a man. 
 He plies the Duke at morniiig 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. 
 
 Jess. When I was with him, I have heard him swear 
 To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen. 
 That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
 Than twenty times the value of the sum 
 That he did owe him ; and I know, my lord, 
 If law, authority, and power deny not, 
 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 
 The ancient Roman honour more appears 
 Than any that draws breath in Italy. 
 
 Por. What sum owes he the Jew ? 
 
 Bass. For me three thousand ducats. 
 
 Por. What, no more ? 
 
 Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond ; 
 Double six thousand, and then treble that,^ 
 
 27 Enmi and etmims are continually used by old writers in the sense of 
 malice and malicious. 
 
 28 The force of the superlative, hest, is continued over wiwearied in tlie 
 sense of most. — Condition' d is tempered, disposed. See page 108, note 19. 
 
 29 The Venetian ducat, in or near the Poet's time, is said on good au- 
 thority to have been equivalent to neailj' $1.53 of our money. At this rate 
 Portia's 36,000 ducats would have equalled about $56,000. Xnd money was 
 worth some six times as much then as it is now ! — In the second line below 
 7ny is wanting in all the old copies till the folio of 1632, where it is supplied! 
 The Poet would hardly have made" the verse deficient in a sj'Uahle there. 
 Perhaps we should read thorough instead of through, those two forms beine 
 used indifferently at that time. 
 
SC. III. OP VENICE. 145 
 
 Before a friend of this description 
 Shall lose a hair through my Bassanio's fault. 
 First go with me to church and call me wife, 
 And then away to Venice to your friend ; 
 For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
 With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
 To pay the petty debt twenty times over ; 
 Whtn it is paid, bring your true friend along : 
 My maid Nerissa and myself, mean-time. 
 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. 
 
 Bass. [Reads.] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have oE miscar- 
 ried, 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 clear'd between you and I, if I might 
 hut see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure : 
 if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter. 
 
 Par. O love, despatch all business, and be gone ! 
 
 Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, 
 I will make haste ; but, tUl I come again, 
 No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, 
 Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [^Sxeunt. 
 
 Scene III. Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Shtlock, Salaeino, Antonio, and Jailer. 
 
 Sliy. Jailer, look to him : tell not me of mercy. — 
 This is the fool that lends out money gratis. — 
 Jailer, look to him. 
 
 Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 
 
 Shy. ril have my bond ; speak not against my bond : 
 I've 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 jaUer, that thou art so fond ^ 
 To come abroad with him at his request. 
 
 Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 
 
 Shy. rU have my bond ; I wUl not hear thee speak : 
 I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
 
 3" 0ieer is from the French chire, signifying coununance. Shakespeare 
 has it in ihe same sense again in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, iii. 2: "All 
 faiicy-siclc she is, and pale of cheer " 
 
 1 Fmd !s generally used by Shakespeare in the sen<ie of foolish. 
 lU 
 
146 THE MERCHANT ACT III. 
 
 I'll not be made a soft and dull-ey'd fool, 
 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
 To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; 
 I'U have no speaking : I will have my bond. 
 
 \_Exit Shtlock. 
 
 Sal. It is the most impenetrable cur 
 That ever kept with men. 
 
 Ant. Let him alone : 
 
 I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 
 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. 
 
 Sal. I am sure, the Duke 
 
 Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. < 
 
 Anf. The Duke cannot deny the course of law, 
 For the commodity that strangers have 
 With us in Venice : if it be denied, 
 'TwiU much impeach the justice of the State ; 
 Since that the trade and profit of the city 
 Consisteth of all nations.'' Therefore, gO : 
 These griefs and losses have so 'bated me, 
 That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
 To-morfow to my bloody creditor^ — 
 Well, jaUer, on. — Pray God, Bassanio come 
 To see me pay his debt, and then I care not ! [^Exeunt, 
 
 Scene rV. Belmont. A Room in Portia's Souse. 
 Enter Poktia, Neeissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Eai.- 
 
 THAZAR. 
 
 Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 
 You have a noble and a true conceit ^ 
 
 2 It should be borne in mind, that Antonio waa one of the citizens, while 
 Shylocls was reckoned among the strangers of tlie place. And since the city 
 was benefited as much by the trade and commerce of foreigners as of natives, 
 justice evidently required that the law should give cciual advantages to them 
 both. But to stop the cou^^e of law in behalf of citizens against strangers, 
 would be putting the latter at a disadvantage, and so would clearly impeach 
 th3 justice of the State. Fitr means the same as iecaiise q/; — a sense in 
 which it is often used by the Poet. The passage Is usually printed thus: 
 " 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 the state." 
 Where comTnodity is obviously the subject of impeach. Which greath' clogs 
 and obscures the passage, though perhaps it may still be made to j-ield the 
 same meaning. Commodity here bears the sense of commercial intercourse. 
 
 1 Cimceit is conception, idea, or judgment. I think the word is never usea 
 by Shakespeare in a bad sense. See page 102, note 18. 
 
SC. IV. OF VENICE. ] 47 
 
 Of god-like amity ; which appears most strongly 
 In bearing thus the absence of yom- 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 boimty can enforce you. 
 
 Por. I never did repent for doing good, 
 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 
 From out the state of hellish cruelty ! 
 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 breath'd a secret vow 
 To live in prayer and contemplation, 
 Only attended by Nerissa here. 
 Until her husband and my lord's .return: 
 There is a monastery two miles ofiF, 
 And there we wiU abide. I do desire you 
 Not to deny this imposition,^ 
 The which my love and some necessity 
 Now lays upon you. 
 
 Lor. Madam, with all my heart ; 
 
 I shall obey you in all fair commands. 
 
 Por. My people do already know my mind, 
 And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
 In place of Lord Bassanio and myself.' 
 So, fare you well, till we shall meet again. 
 
 Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you ! 
 
 Jess. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
 
 Por. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas'd 
 To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. — 
 Now, Balthazar, \_Exeurd Jessica and Lokenzo. 
 
 2 Ijoeer was much used by Shakespeare and other writers of his time for 
 friend. His sonnets are full of examples in point. 
 8 Imposition is any charge, task or duty imposed. 
 
148 THE MERCHANT ACT IH 
 
 As I have ever found thee honest-true, 
 
 So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, 
 
 And use thou all th' endeavour of a man 
 
 In speed to Padua : see thou render this 
 
 Into my cousin's hand, Doctor BeUaiio ; 
 
 And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee, 
 
 Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed * 
 
 Unto the Tranect,^ to the common ferry 
 
 Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, 
 
 But get thee gone : I shall he 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'U see our husbands 
 Before they think of us. 
 
 Ner. Shall they see us ? 
 
 Por. They shall, Nerissa ; but in such a habit, 
 That they shall think we are accomplished 
 With what we lack. I'll hold thee any wager, 
 When we are both accoutred like young men, 
 I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two. 
 And wear my dagger with the braver grace ; 
 And speak between the change of man and boy 
 With Ta reed voice ; and turn two mincing steps 
 Into a manly stride ; and speak of frays. 
 Like a fine-bragging youth ; and tell quaint lies. 
 How honourable ladies sought my love. 
 Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 
 I could not do withal ': * then I'll 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've discontinu'd school 
 Above a twelvemonth. I've within my mind 
 A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
 Which I wnt practise. — 
 But come ; I'll tell thee all my whole device 
 When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
 
 * That is, with the celeritj- of imagination. So, in the Chorus preceding 
 the Third Act of Henry V. : " Tlius with imagined wine our swift "Scene 
 flies." • 
 
 6 This word evidently implies the name of a place where the passage- 
 boat set out, and is in some way derived from tranare, to draw. No other 
 instance of its use has yet occurred. The Poet had most likely heard or 
 read of the place on the Bienta, about five miles from Venice, where a boat 
 was drawn over a dam by a crane. 
 
 8 A phrase of the time, signifying / could not help it. So, in Beaumont 
 and Fletcher's Little French Lawyer, Dinant, who is reproached by Clerimont 
 for not s lencing the music which endangered his safety, replies: "/ cannot 
 do mthal; 1 have spoke and spoke; I am betrayed and' lost too." 
 
SC. V, OP VENICE. 149 
 
 At the park-gate ; and therefore haste away, 
 
 For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. The Same. A Garden. 
 Enter Launcblot and Jessica. 
 
 Laun. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the father are 
 to be laid upon the children : therefore, I promise you, 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 damn'd. 
 
 Jess. I shall be sav'd by my husband ; he hath made me a 
 Christian. 
 
 Laun. Truly, the more to blame he : we were Christians 
 enough 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 shaU not shortly 
 have a rasher on the coals for money. 
 
 Jess. rU tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say : here 
 he comes. 
 
 Mnter Lorenzo. 
 
 Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if you 
 thus get my wife into corners. 
 
 Jess. 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. 
 
 Lor. 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. 
 
 Laun. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 
 
 Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you ! then, bid 
 them prepare dinner. 
 
 Laun. That is done too, sir ; only, cover is the word. 
 
 Lor. "Will you cover, then, sir ? 
 
 Laun. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty.* 
 
 1 That is, km for you, or on your account So, in Richard III., Act i. 
 scene 1 : "The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, and his physicians /ear 
 him mightily." 
 
 2 A Gobi)oism for cogitation. 
 
 8 A shrewd proof that the Poet rightly estimated the small wit, the puns 
 and verbal tricks, in which ho so often indulges. He did it to please others, 
 not himself. 
 
 < Launcelot is playing upon the two senses of cooer, which was used both 
 for setting the table and for putting on the hat. 
 
150 THE MERCHANT ACT 11^ 
 
 Lor. Yet more quarreling with occasion ! WUt thou show 
 the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray thee, 
 understand a plain man in his plain meaning : go to thy fel- 
 lows ; bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we 
 wUl come in to dinner. 
 
 Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be serv'd 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 LaujS^celot. 
 
 Lor. O, dear discretion, how his words are suited ! 
 The fool hath planted in his memory 
 An army of good words ; and I do know 
 A many fools, that stand in better place, 
 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 ? 
 
 Jess. Past all expressing. It is very meet 
 The Lord Bassanio hve 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 merit it,° 
 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 feUow. 
 
 Lor. Even such a husband 
 
 Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 
 
 Jess. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 
 
 Lor. I will anon : first let us go to dinner. 
 
 Jess. Nay, 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. 
 
 Jess. . Well, I'll set you forth. [^Exeunt. 
 
 6 That ia, they set the matter at defiance, or strangle the meaning, in their 
 fondness of verbal trickery and trifling, or in their chase after puns and plays 
 upon words. Shakespeare alludes, nn doubt, to the habit which was then 
 but too common in the high places of learning and of the State; where one 
 could scarce come at the matter, it was so flourished in the speaking. Laun- 
 celot is a good satire on the practice, however the satire may rebound uooa 
 the Poet himself. '^ 
 
 ' The old copies hare mean it, instead of merit. The change is Pope's 
 approved by Dyce. 
 
SlJ- I. OP VENICE. 151 
 
 ACT rV. Scene L Venice. A Court of Justice. 
 
 Enter the Duke; the Magnifieoes ; Antonio, Bass an io, 
 Geatiano, Salaeino, Solanio, and Others. 
 
 Duke. What, is Antonio here ? 
 
 Ant. Ready, so please your Grace. 
 
 Duke. I'm sorry for thee : thou art come to answer 
 A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
 Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
 From any dram of mercy. 
 
 Ant. I have heard 
 
 Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
 His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate, 
 And that no lawful means can carry me 
 Out of his envy's reach,^ I do oppose- 
 My patience to his fury, and am arm'd 
 To suffer with a quietness of spirit 
 The very tyranny and rage of his. 
 
 Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the Court. 
 
 Sol. He's ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 
 
 Enter Shtlock. 
 
 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'lt show thy mercy and remorse,^ more strange 
 Than is thy strange-apparent cruelty : 
 And where ° thou now exact'st the penalty, — 
 Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, — 
 Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,* 
 But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
 Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
 Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
 That have of late so huddled on his back ; 
 Enough to press a royal merchant down,^ 
 
 1 Enoy in this place means hatredoT malice; a frequent use of the word 
 ,in Shaliespeare's time, as every reader of the English Bible ought to know. 
 Seeipage 144, note 27. 
 
 2 Semorse in Shakespeare's time generally signified pity, tenderness ; the 
 releniings of compassion- 
 
 8 In the Poet's age, where was continually used, in all sorts of writing, 
 for whereas. 
 
 < lioose has the sense of release. — Mmeiy, second line after, properly 
 means the half of a thing, but is used by the Poet for any portion. 
 
 6 This epithet was striking and well understood in Shakespeare's time, 
 when Gresham had the title of the royal merchant, both from his wealth, and 
 
152 THE MERCHANT ACT IT. 
 
 And pluck commiseration of his state 
 
 From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, 
 
 From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never traiu'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'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 
 A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive 
 Three thousand ducats. I'll 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 pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 
 To have it ban'd ! What, are you answer'd yet ? 
 Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; ' 
 Some, that are mad if they behold a cat. 
 Masters of passion sway 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 ; 
 So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 
 More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing 
 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
 A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 
 
 Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 
 T' 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. 
 
 because lie constantly transacted the mercantile business of Queen Elizabeth. 
 And there were similar ones at Venice, such as the Giustiniani and the 
 Grimaldi. 
 
 * In Shakespeare's time the -word humour was used, much as conscience 
 was at a later period, to justify any eccentric impulse of vanity, opinion, or 
 self-will, for which no common ground of reason could be alleged. Thus, if 
 a m"an had an individual crofchet which he mennt should override the laws 
 and conditions of our social being, it was his kumour. Corporal Nym is a 
 burlesque on this sort of affectation. 
 
 ' A pig's head as roasted for the table. In England, a boar's head is 
 sers ed up at Christmas, with a lemon in its mouth. So, in Webster's Duchess 
 of Mnlfi, iii. 2:," He could not abide to see a piff's head gaping: I thought 
 your Grace would find him a Jew." XnA in Fletcher's Elder Brother, ii. 2: 
 •'And they stand gaping like a roasted pig." 
 
S<J. 1. OF VENICE. 153 
 
 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 evee 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 any thing most hard. 
 As seek to soften that (than which what's harder?) 
 His Jewish heart. — Therefore, I do beseech you, 
 Make no more offers, use no further means, 
 But, with all brief and plain conveniency. 
 Let me have judgment, and the Jew his wiU. 
 
 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. 
 
 Diike. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none ? 
 
 Shy. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong ? 
 You have among you many a purchas'd slave, 
 Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
 You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
 Because you bought them. Shall I say to you. 
 Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
 Why sweat they under burdens ? 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 : 
 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. 
 
 Sal. My lord, here stays without 
 
 A messenger with letters from the Doctor, 
 New come from Padua. 
 
 Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 
 
 Bass. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man, courage yet ! 
 The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and aU, 
 Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 
 
 8 So in both the quartos, but usually printed fretted. Fretten is ap- 
 parently im old form of the vfOidjVike muxen in A MUlsummer-Nighfs Dream, 
 Act ii. "scene 1. 
 
154 THE MEKCHANT -A-CT IT 
 
 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 stUl, and write mine epitaph. 
 
 Enter Neeissa, dressed like a Lawyer's Clerk. 
 
 Dvke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 
 
 Ker. From both, my lord : Bellario greets your Grace. 
 
 {^Presents a Letter. 
 
 Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so parnestly ? 
 
 Shy. To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there. 
 
 Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
 Thou mak'st 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. 
 
 Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog ! ^^ 
 And for thy life let justice be accus'd.^^ 
 Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, 
 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 [with] thy unhallow'd dam, 
 Infus'd itself in thee ; for thy desires 
 Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. 
 
 Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from oflf my bond, 
 Thou but ofFend'st thy lungs to speak so loud : 
 Eepair thy wit, good youth, or it wiU 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 ? 
 
 9 Malice. See note 1, of this scene. This passage ia well illustrated by 
 one in 2 Henry J V., Act iv. scene 4. 
 
 " Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, 
 Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart." 
 
 IK All the old copies have " inexecraile dog," which I am very much in- 
 clined to think right, taking the prepositive in as intensive. 
 
 11 The meaning probably is. Let Justice be impeached for suffering thee 
 to live. 
 
 12 The ancient philosopher of Samos, who is said to have taught the 
 transmigration of souls. In As You Like It, iii.' 2, Kosalind says, " I was 
 never so berhyra'd since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I 
 can hardly remember." 
 
 13 Thus the quartos; the folio has " endless ruin." 
 
SC. I. OF VENIOE. 155 
 
 Ner. 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. 
 
 [Clerk reads.] Yoy/r 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 Some ; his name is Balthazar. I acquainted him 
 with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the 
 merchant: we turn'd o'er many books together: he is furnished 
 with my opinion ; which, better'd with his own learning, the 
 greatness whereof J cannot enough commend, comes vrith him, 
 at my importunity, to fill up your Grace's request in my stead. 
 1 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. 
 
 Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes : 
 And here, I take it, is the Doctor come. — 
 
 Enter Portia,'^ dressed like a Doctor of Laws. 
 
 Give me your hand : Came you from old Bellario ? 
 
 For. I did, my lord. 
 
 Duke. You're welcome : take your place. 
 
 Are you acquainted with the difference 
 That holds this present question in the Court ? 
 
 Por. I am informed throughly of the cause. 
 Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew ? 
 
 Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 
 
 Por. Is your name Shylock ? 
 
 Shy. Shylock is my name. 
 
 Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
 Yet in such rule, that the Venetian law 
 Cannot impugn you '^ as you do proceed. — 
 [ To Ant.] You stand within his danger,^' do you not ? 
 
 'Ant. Ay, so he says. 
 
 1* The sense apparently ia, Let his lack of years be no hindrance to his 
 being treated with reverence. 
 
 lo The old stage direction here is, " Enter Portia for Balthazar." 
 
 16 To impagn is to oppose.^ to cmitrovert. 
 
 1' Richardson sa'ys, — "In French and old English law, danger seems 
 equivalent to penalty, damages, commissi poena. Thus; 'Narcissus was a 
 baohelere that love liad caught in his dawngere; ' that is, within the reach of 
 hurtful, mischievous power. Thus also : ' In danger hadde he at his owen 
 gise the yonge girles of the diooise.' And again : ' He was never wedded 
 to woman's 'danger; ' that is, woman's dangerous power." 
 
15G THE MERCHANT A^CT IT 
 
 For. Do you confess the bond? 
 
 Ant. I do. 
 
 Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. 
 
 Shi/. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 
 
 For. The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; ^^ 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven 
 Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd ; 
 It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
 The throned monarch better than his crown : 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings,; 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
 It is an attribute to God himself; 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
 "When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
 Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 
 That in the course of justice none of us 
 Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 The deeds of mercy.''' I have spoke thus much. 
 To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 
 Which if thou follow, this strict Court of Venice 
 Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 
 
 Shy. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law. 
 The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 
 
 Por. Is he not able to discharge the money ? 
 
 Pass. Yes, here I tender 't for him in the Court; 
 Yea, thrice 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 : 
 If this wiU not suffice, it must appear 
 That malice bears down truth.^' And, I beseech you, 
 
 18 That is, the nature of mercy is to act freely, not from constraint 
 Portia had u«ed miist in a moral sense, and the Jew purposely mistook it-in a 
 legal sense. This gives a natural occ:ision and impulse for her strain of 
 " heavenly eloquence." 
 
 19 " Portia, referring the Jew to the Christian doctrine of Salvation, and 
 the Lord|8 Prayer, is a little out of character." So says Sir William ISlack- 
 stone ; whereas the Lord's Praj'er was itself but a compilarion, all the peti- 
 tions in it being taken out of the ancient euchnlDiiies or prayer-books of the 
 Jews. So in Ecctesins&us xxviii. 2: "Forgive thy neighbour the hurt that 
 he hath done unto thee, so shall thy sins also be forgiven wlien thou pravest." 
 
 20 The old copies hiive " tmce the sum." But Portia says to the "Jew a 
 little after, " there's thrice thy money otF^'red thee." 
 
 21 Trtith is honesty here. A Irue'raan in old language i< an honest man. 
 And the honesty here shown is in offering to pay thrice tire money. 
 
SC. I. OF VENICE. 157 
 
 "Wrest once the law to your authority : 
 To do a great right, do a little wrong ; 
 Aud curb this cruel devil of his will. 
 
 Por. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 
 Can alter a decree established : 
 'Twill be recorded for a precedent ; 
 And many an error, by the same example, 
 Will rush into the State. It cannot be. 
 
 Shy. A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel , — 
 0, wise young judge, how I do honour thee! 
 
 Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. Here 'tis, most reverend Doctor ; here it is. 
 
 Por. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee. 
 
 Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in Heaven : 
 Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ? 
 No, not for' Venice ! 
 
 Par. Why, this bond is forfeit ; 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
 A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
 Nearest the merchant's heart. — Be merciful ; 
 Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 
 
 Shy. When it is paid according to the tenour. 
 It doth appear you are a worthy judge ; 
 You know the law, your exposition 
 Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, 
 Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 
 Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear 
 There is no power in the tongue of man 
 To alter me : I stay here on my bond. 
 
 Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the Comt 
 To give the judgment. 
 
 Por. Why, then thus it is : 
 
 You must prepare your bosom for his knife ; — 
 
 Shy. O, noble judge ! O, excellent young man ! 
 
 Por. — For the intent and purpose of the law 
 Hath full relation to the penalty ,^^ 
 Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. 'Tis very true. O, wise and upright judge ! 
 How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! 
 
 Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 
 
 Shy. -^Jt his breast: 
 
 So says the bond: — doth it not, noble judge? — 
 Nearest his heart : those are the very words. 
 
 Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 
 Theflesb? 
 
 82 Thnt is, the law relating to contracts is fully applicible in this esse. 
 
158 THE MEBCHANT ACT IV. 
 
 Shy. T have them ready .^' 
 
 Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, 
 To stop his wounds, lest, he do bleed to death. 
 
 Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 
 
 Por. It is not so express'd ; but what of that .'' 
 'Twere good you do so much for charity. 
 
 Shy. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 
 
 Por. Come, merchant, have you any thing to say ? 
 
 Ant. But little : I am arm'd and well prepar'd. — 
 Give me your hand, Bassanio : fare you well ! 
 Grieve not that I am fall'n 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 a misery doth she cut me off. 
 Commend me to your honourable wife : 
 Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 
 Say how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death ; 
 And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge. 
 Whether Bassanio had not once a lover. < 
 Repent not 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 instantly with all my heart. 
 
 Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
 Which is as dear to me as life itself; 
 But life itself, my wife, and aU the world. 
 Are not with me esteem'd above thy life : 
 I would lose aU, ay, sacrifice them all 
 Here to this devil to deliver you. 
 
 Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for that, 
 If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 
 
 Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love : 
 I would she were in Heaven, so she could 
 Entreat some power to change this currish Jew 
 
 Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back ; 
 The wish would make, else, an unquiet house. 
 
 Shy. \_Aside.'] These be the Christian husbands ! I have a 
 daughter ; 
 Would any of the stock of Barrabas ^* 
 
 28 Balance, though singular in form, is used as plural in sense, referring 
 to the two scales which make the balance. The usage was common. 
 
 ^ Shakespeare seems to have followed the pronunciation usuai in the 
 theatre, Barabbas being sounded Barabas throughout Marlowe's Jeio of 
 Malta. 
 
SC. I. , OF VENICE. 159 
 
 Had been her husband 'atlier than a Christian ! — 
 
 [7b PoB.] We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
 
 Por. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine : 
 The Court awards it,- and the law doth give it. 
 
 Shy. Most rightful judge ! 
 
 Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast : 
 The law allows it, and the Court awards it. 
 
 Shy. Most learned Judge ! A sentence ! — Come, pre- 
 pare. 
 
 Por. Tarry a little ; there is something else. 
 This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
 The words expressly are, a pound of flesh : 
 Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
 But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
 One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
 Are by the laws of Venice confiscate 
 Unto the State of Venice. 
 
 Gra. upright judge ! — Mark, Jew : — O learned judge ! 
 
 Shy. Is that the law ? 
 
 Por. Thyself shalt see the Act : 
 
 For, as thou urgest justicp, be assur'd 
 Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st. 
 
 Gra. O learned judge ! — Mark, Jew : — a learned judge ! 
 
 Shy. I take his 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 : — 
 He shall have nothing but the penalty. 
 
 Gra. Jew, an upright judge, 'a learned judge ! 
 
 Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
 Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less nor more 
 But just a pound of flesh : if thou tak'st more 
 Or less than a just pound, — be't but so much 
 As makes it light or heavy in the substance 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 Of one poor scruple ; nay, if the scale do turn 
 But in the estimation of a hair, — 
 Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.'^ 
 
 Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
 Now, infidel, I have thee 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. 
 
 25 This form of the participle was used in a gobd many words. And so 
 it is still, as in the words situate, consecrate, and others. Twice in this 
 scene we have forfdt for forfeited. 
 
160 THE MERCHANT AC* IV. 
 
 Por. He hath refiis'd it in the open Court : 
 He shall have merely justice and Ms 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 ? 
 
 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 proVd against an alien. 
 That by direct or indirect attempts 
 He seek the life of any citizen. 
 The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
 Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 
 Comes to the privy coffer of the State ; 
 And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
 Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
 In which predicament I say thou stand'st ; 
 For it appears, by manifest proceeding, 
 That indirectly, and directly too. 
 Thou hast contriv'd against the very life 
 Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd 
 The danger formally by me rehears'd.^' 
 Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. 
 
 Gra. Beg that thou may'st 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 spirit, 
 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.^ 
 
 Por Ay, for the State ; not for Antonio.°* 
 
 Shy. Nay; take my life and all ; pardon not that : 
 You take my house, when you do take the prop 
 
 2« The old copies have formerly instead of formally. The change is 
 Hanmer's. 
 
 27 That is, submission on yonr part may move me to reduce it to a fine. 
 
 28 Meaning, apparently, that the reduction of the forfeiture to a fine 
 should apply only to that half of his goods which was to come to the cofier 
 of the State, not that which fell to Antonio. Portia is not yet supposed to 
 know that the report of Antonio's losses was bogus, and so she looks out for 
 his interest. 
 
SC. I. OF VENICE. 161 
 
 That doth sustain my house ; you take my life, 
 When you do take the means whereby I live. 
 
 Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? 
 
 Gra. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God's sake. 
 
 Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the Court 
 To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
 I am content ; so he will let me have 
 The other half in use, to render it. 
 Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
 That lately stole his daughter ; 
 Two things provided more : That, for this favour, 
 He presently become a Christian ; 
 The other, that he do record a gift, 
 Here in the Court, of all he dies possess'd, 
 Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 
 
 DuIk. He shall do this ; or else I do recant 
 The pardon that I late pronounced here. 
 
 Por. Art thou contented, Jew ? what dost thou say ? 
 
 Shy. I am content. 
 
 Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 
 
 Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; 
 I am not well : send the deed after me, 
 And I will sign it. 
 
 Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 
 
 Gra. In christening thou shalt have two godfathers : 
 Had I been judge, thou should'st have had ten more,^ 
 To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. \_Midt Shtlook. 
 
 Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 
 
 Por. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon : "" 
 I must away this night toward Padua, 
 And it is meet I presently set forth. 
 
 Duke. I'm sorry that your leisure serves you not. — 
 Antonio, gratify this gentleman ; 
 For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 
 
 [Meeurd Duke, Meignificoes, and Train. 
 
 Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
 Have fey 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.'^ 
 
 29 That 13, a lury of twelve men to condemn him. This appears to have 
 heen an old joke. So, in The Devil is an Ass, by Ben Jonson: " I wiU leave 
 you to your godfathers in law. Let twdm mm work." 
 
 *> An old English idiom now obsolete. See page 92, note 8. 
 
 "l In consideration whereof, or in return for which. For this use of lieu, 
 
 £ The only instance that I remember to have met with, of the word copt 
 
162 THE MEECHANT -A-CT IV 
 
 Ant. And staiid indebted, over and above, 
 In love and service to you evermore. 
 
 Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied ; 
 And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 
 And therein do account myself well paid : 
 My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
 I pray you, know me when we meet again : 
 I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 
 
 Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you farther : 
 Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute. 
 Not as a fee. Grant me two things, I pray you, — 
 Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 
 
 Por. You press me far, and therefore I wiU yield. — 
 
 ETo Ant.] Give me your gloves, I'll wear themfor your sake ; — 
 To Bass.] And, for your love, I'U take this ring from you 
 Do not draw back your hand : I'U 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 6lse but only this ; 
 And now methinks I have a mind to it. 
 
 Bass. There's more depends on this than on the value. 
 The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 
 And find it out by proclamation ; 
 Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 
 
 Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers : 
 You taught me first to beg ; and now methinks 
 You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 
 
 Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; 
 And, when she put it on, she made me vow 
 That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. 
 
 Por. That 'sense serves many men to save their gifts. 
 An if your wife be not a mad-woman. 
 And know how well I have deserved tliis ring, 
 She would not hold out enemy for ever 
 For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! 
 
 \_Exeunt Portia and Neeissa. 
 
 Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring : 
 Let his deservings, and my love withal, 
 Be valu'd 'gainst your wife's commandment. 
 
 being used in the sense of pay, or reward. A like use of the word in compo- 
 sition, however, occurs in Ben Jonson's Fox, Act iii. scene 5 : 
 
 " He would have sold his part of Paradise 
 For ready money, had he met a cope-man." 
 
 88 ShaU and will are among the words which had not become fully differ- 
 entiated in the Poet's time. He has many instances of either being used for 
 the other. 
 
sc. II. or VENICE. 163 
 
 Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; 
 Give him the ring; and bring him, "if thou canst, 
 Unto Antonio's house. Away ! make haste. — 
 
 [_Exit Gkatiano. 
 Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
 And in the morning early will we both 
 Fly toward Belmont : Come, Antonio. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. The Same. A Street. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nbrissa, disguised as before. 
 
 Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed, 
 And let him sign it. We'U away to-night, 
 And be a day before our husbands home. 
 This deed wUl be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Fair sir, you are well overta'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, 
 I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. 
 
 Gra. That wiU I do. 
 
 Ner. Sir, I would speak with you. — 
 
 [7b Por. J I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, 
 Which I (fid make him swear to keep for ever. 
 
 Por. Thou may'st, I warrant. We shall have old swearing' 
 That they did give away the rings to men ; 
 But we'll outface them, and outs wear them too. 
 Away ! make haste : thou know'st where I will tarry. 
 
 Ner. Come, good sir ; will you show me to this house ? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 MT£ V Scene I. Belmont. Avenue to Portia's House. 
 Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 
 Lor. The Moon shines bright. In such a night as this, 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
 
 1 Upon further consideration. See page 103, note 25. 
 
 2 Old was a frequent intensive in colloquial speech ; very much as Mge 
 is used now. So, A Much Ado cAmt Nothing, v. 2: ' Yonder's oW coil at 
 home " And m The Merry Wives of Windsor, i 4: "Here will be an old 
 abusing of God's patience and the king's English." 
 
164 THE MERCHANT ACT V. 
 
 And they did make no noise, — in such a night 
 Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, 
 And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents. 
 Where Cressid lay that night.^ 
 
 Jess. In such a night 
 
 Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew ; 
 And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,^ 
 And ran dismay'd away. 
 
 Lor. In such a night 
 
 Stood Dido with a willow in her hand ' , 
 Upon the wild sea-banks, and waVd her love 
 To come again to Carthage. 
 
 Jess. In such a night 
 
 Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs 
 That did renew old ^son.* 
 
 Lor. In such a night 
 
 Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, 
 And with an linthrift love did run from Venice 
 As far as Belmont. 
 
 Jess. And in such a night 
 
 Did young Lorenzo swear he loVd her well, 
 Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, 
 And ne'er a true one. 
 
 Lor. And in such a night 
 
 Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew. 
 Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 
 
 Jess. I would out-night you, did nobody come : 
 But, hark !' I hear the footing of a man. 
 
 Enter Stephano. 
 
 Lor. Who comes so fast in sUence 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 
 
 1 The story of Troilus and Gressida is set forth in Stiakespeare's play of 
 that name. 
 
 2 That is, ere she saw the lion himself; The story of " Pyramus Riad his 
 love Thisbe" is hurlesqued in the interlude of Bottom and company in A 
 Midsummer-NighVs Dream. 
 
 8 Spenser in like sort makes the willow a symbol of forsaken love. 
 Thus, in Tke Faerie Queene, i. 1, 9 : "The willow, worne of forlorne para- 
 mours." 
 
 * Twice, already, in this play, we have had allusions to the story of 
 Jason and his voyage to Colchos in quest of the golden fleece. Medea, also, 
 stole her father's treasure, and ran away irom Colchos with Jason after he 
 had won the ileece. The Poet seems to have been fresh from the reading of 
 that tale, when he wrote this play. PerhHps Medea had something to do in 
 suggesting and shaping the part of Jessica. 
 
 6 In this pliiy the n.ime Sirphano h&< the accent on the second svllabla. 
 
SC. I. OF VENICE. 165 
 
 My mistress will before the break of day 
 Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 
 By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
 For happy wedlock hours." 
 
 Lor. Who comes with her? 
 
 Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid. 
 I pray you, is my master yet return'd ? 
 
 Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. — 
 But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
 And ceremoniously let us prepare 
 Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 
 
 Enter Launcelot 
 
 Laun. Sola, sola ! wo, ha, ho ! sola, sola ! 
 
 Lor. Who calls ? 
 
 Laun. Sola ! — did you see Master Lorenzo ' and Mistress 
 Lorenzo? — sola, sola! 
 
 Lor. Leave hollaing, man ; — here. 
 
 Laun. Sola! — Where? where? 
 
 Lor. Here. 
 
 Laun. Tell him there's a post come from my master, with 
 his horn full of good news:' my master will be here ere - 
 morning. \_Exit. 
 
 Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming. 
 And yet no matter : why should we go in ? — 
 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 moon-light sleeps upon this bank ! 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 Sit, Jessica : Look, how the floor of Heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines * of bright gold : 
 There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
 
 In The Tempest, written some years later, the same name has it, rightly, on 
 the first. ' 
 
 8 In old times crosses were set up at the intersection of roads, and in 
 other places specially associated with saintly or heroic names, to invite the 
 passers-hy to devotion. And in those daj's Christians were much in the 
 habit of remembering in their prayers whatever lay nearest their hearts. 
 So in The Tempest, iii.l, Ferdinand says to Miranda: "I do beseech you, — 
 chiefly that I might set it in mv prayers, — what is your name ? " So, again, 
 Hamlet to Ophelia: " In thy orisons be all mv sins remember'd! " 
 
 ' The postman used to carry a horn, and blow it to give notice of his 
 coming, on approaching a place where he had something to deliver. Launce- 
 lot has just been imitating the notes of the horn in his exclamations, Soln, &c. 
 
 8 A small plate, used in the administration of the Eucharist : it was com- 
 monly of gold, or silver-gilt. 
 
166 THE MERCHANT ACT V. 
 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 
 StiQ quiring to the young-ey'd 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. \_Musie. 
 
 Jess. I'm never merry when I hear sweet music. 
 
 Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 
 For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
 Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
 Fetchmg mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, 
 Wliich is the hot condition of t£eir blood ; 
 If they but hear perchance a trumpet soimd, 
 Or any air of music touch their ears, 
 You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
 Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze. 
 By the sweet power of music : Therefore the poet 
 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ; 
 Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 
 But music for the time doth change his nature. 
 The man that hath no music in himself. 
 Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
 The motions of his spirit are duU as night, 
 And his affections dark as Erebus : 
 Let no such man be trusted. — Mark the music. 
 
 Enter Poktia and Nerissa at a distance. • 
 
 Par. That hght we see is burning in my hall. 
 How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
 
 Ner. When the Moon shone we did not see the candle. 
 
 9 Of course everybody has heard of " the music of the spheres," — an 
 ancient mystery which taught that the lieavenly bodies in their revohitiona 
 sins together in a concert so loud, various, and sweet, as to exceed all pro- 
 portion to the human ear. And the greatest souls, from Plato to Words- 
 worth, have been lifted above themselves, and have waxed greater than 
 their wont, with an idea or intuition that the universe wns knit together by 
 a principle of which musical harmony is the aptest and clearest expression. 
 
 IK, The soul of man was thought by some to be or to have something like the 
 miisic of the spheres. Thus in Hooker's Ecclesiastical PoUty, v. 38 : " Touch- 
 in£j musical harmony, such is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath 
 in that very part of man which is most divine, that some have thereby been 
 induced tothink that thestntl itself by nature is or hath in it harnumyj^ 
 
SC. I. OP VENICE. 167 
 
 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. 
 
 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 awak'd ! ^^ [_Music ceases. 
 
 Lor. ■ That is the voice, 
 
 Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. 
 
 Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo. 
 By the bad yoice. 
 
 Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 
 
 Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, 
 Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
 Are they retum'd? 
 
 Lor. Madam, they are not yet , 
 
 But there is come a messenger before, 
 To signify their coming. 
 
 Por. Go in, Nerissa : 
 
 Give order to my servants that they take 
 
 11 Unless it be heeded, or attended to. Hence it sounds better when 
 there is nothing to divert tiie attention. 
 
 12 Endymion was a very beautiful youth : Juno took a fancy to him, 
 whereupon her old man, Jupiter, grew jealous of him, and cast him into a 
 perpetual sleep on Mount Latraos. While he was there asleep, Madam Luna 
 got so smitten with his beauty, that she used to come down and kiss him, 
 and lie by his side. Some said, however, that Luna herself put him asleep, 
 that slie might have the pleasure of kissing him without his knowing it, the 
 youth being somewhat shy when awake. The story was naturally a fa- 
 vourite with the poets. Fletcher, in The Fmthful Shepherdess, tells the tala 
 charmingly, — 
 
 " How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove, 
 First saw the bov Endymion, from whose eyes 
 She took eternal' fire that never dies; 
 How she convey'd him softly in a sleep. 
 His temples bound with poppy, to the steep 
 Hend of old Latmus, where she stoops each night. 
 Gilding the mountain with her brother's hght, 
 To kiss her sweetest." 
 
168 THE MEKCHANT ACT V. 
 
 No note at all of our being absent hence ; — 
 
 Nor you, Lorenzo ; — Jessica, nor you. [A Tucket sounds}' 
 
 Lor. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet. 
 We are no tell-talos. Madam ; fear you not. 
 
 For. This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick ; 
 It looks a little paler: 'tis a day. 
 Such as a day is when the Sun is hid. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Geatiano, and their Followers. 
 
 Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
 If you would walk in absence of the Sun. 
 
 For. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; " 
 For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 
 And never be Bassanio so for me : 
 But God sort all ! You're welcome home, my lord. 
 
 Bass. I thank you, Madam. Give welcome to iny friend : 
 This is the man, this is Antonio, 
 To whom I am so infinitely bound. 
 
 Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, 
 For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 
 
 Ant. No more than I am weU acquitted of. 
 
 Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 
 It must appear in other ways than words, 
 Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy." 
 
 Gra. \_To Nek.] By yonder Moon I swear you do me 
 wrong ; 
 In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. 
 
 Por. A quarrel, ho, already ! what's the matter ? 
 Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
 That she did give to me ; whose posy was 
 For all the world like cutler's poetry 
 ' Upon a knife,^" Love me, and leave me not. 
 
 Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value ? 
 You swore to me, when I did give it you. 
 That you would wear it till your hour of death ; 
 And that it should lie with you in your grave : 
 Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, 
 You should have been respective," and have kept it. 
 
 13 A tucket is a jlowrish of trumpets. The word is probably from the 
 Italian toccata^ which is said to mean a prelude to a sonata. 
 
 1* Twice before, in these scenes, we have had similar playings upon light i 
 here it is especially gracefu' and happy. See paze 139, note 13. 
 
 15 This complimentary form, made up only o( breath. 
 
 18 Knives were formerly inscribed, by means of aqua forth, with short 
 sentences in distich. The posy of a ring was the motto. 
 
 i' Respective is consit/ernte or regardful ; in the same senoe as respect is 
 explained, page 101, note 16. The word is repeatedly used thus by Shake- 
 pponre; as in timneo and Juliet, iii. 1 : *' Away to Heaven respective leuity, 
 and lire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! '* 
 
sc. r. OP VENICE. 1G9 
 
 Gave it a judge's clerk ! no, God's my judge ! 
 The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. 
 Ora. He will, an if he live to be a man. 
 Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 
 Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
 A kind of boy ; a little scrubbed boy,'' 
 No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk ; 
 A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee : 
 I could not for my heart deny it him. 
 
 Por. You were to blame — I must be plain with you — 
 To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
 A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, 
 And riveted with fmth 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, 
 Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
 That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
 You give your wife too linkind cause of grief: 
 An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 
 
 'Bass. \_Aside.^ Why, I were best to cut my left hand off. 
 And swear I lost the ring defending it. 
 
 Gra. My Lord Bassauio gave his ring away 
 Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 
 Deserv'd it too ; and then the boy, his clerk, 
 That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine : 
 And neither man nor master would take aught 
 But the two rings. 
 
 Por. What ring gave you, my lord ? 
 
 Not that, I hope, which you receiVd 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. 
 
 Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
 By Heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
 Until I see the ring. 
 
 Mr. Nor I in yours. 
 
 Till I again see mine. 
 
 Bass. Sweet Portia, 
 
 If you did know to whom I gave the ring. 
 If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
 And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
 And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
 
 18 Scmbbedis bere usei ia the sense of itunted; as in Holland's n'm/: 
 " Such will never prove fair trees, but sa-tibs only." And Mr. Verplanck ob- 
 Berves that the name scrui oah was from the first settlement of this couutry 
 given to the dwarf or bush oak. 
 
170 THE MERCHANT ACT Y. 
 
 When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
 You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 
 
 Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, 
 Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 
 Or your own honour to contain the ring,^^ 
 You would not then have parted with the ring. , 
 What man is there so much unreasonable, 
 If you had pleas'd to have defended it 
 With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
 To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
 Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 
 m die for't, but some woman had the ring. 
 
 Bass. No, by mine 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, 
 And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away ; 
 Even he that had held up the very life 
 Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ? 
 I was enforc'd 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. 
 
 Por. Let not that Doctor e'er come near my hous6. 
 Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd. 
 And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
 I wUl become as liberal as you : 
 I'll not deny him any thing I have. 
 
 Ant. I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels. 
 
 Por. Sir, grieve not you ; you're welcome notwithstanding 
 
 £ass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong ; 
 And in the hearing of these many friends 
 I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes. 
 Wherein I see myself, — 
 
 Por. Mark you but that ! 
 
 In both my eyes he jioubly sees himself; 
 In each eye, one : — swear by your double self. 
 And there's an oath of credit. 
 
 Bass. Nay, but hear me : 
 
 M Contain was sometimes used in the sense of retain. So, in Bacon's 
 JSssays : " To containe anger fiom miscbiefe, though it take hold of a man, 
 there be two things." 
 
 20 A Civil Doctor wns a doctor of the Civil Law. 
 
 21 Equivalent, perhaps, tu shame of my (Uscourtesy. 
 
SC. I. OF VENICE. 171 
 
 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, 
 Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, 
 My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
 Will never more break faith advisedly. 
 
 Por. Then you shall be his surety : Give him this ; 
 And bid him keep it better than the other. 
 
 Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this ring. 
 
 Bass. By Heaven, it is the same I gave the Doctor ! 
 
 Por. I had it of him ; pardon me, Bassanio. 
 
 Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways 
 In Summer, when the ways are fair enough. 
 
 Por. You are all amaz'd : 
 
 Here is a letter, read it at your leisure ; 
 It comes from Padua, from Bellario : 
 There you shall find that Portia was the Doctor ; 
 Nerissa there her clerk. Lorenzo here 
 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 ia store for you 
 Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 
 There you shall find three of your argosies 
 Are richly come to harbour suddenly. 
 You shall not know by what strange accident 
 I chanced on this letter. 
 
 Ant. I am dumb. 
 
 Bass. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not? 
 
 Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living ; 
 For here I read for certain that my ships 
 Are safely come to road.^^ 
 
 ^ That is, for his good. Wealth is only another form of weal : we say 
 indifferently comraon-weal or coumion-wealth ; and the commonwealth is the 
 good that men have in common. 
 
 28 The Poet leaves us somewhat in the dark as to how the reports of 
 shipwreck grew into being and gained belief. I have noted one seeming in- 
 dication before, that the Jew exercised his cunning as well as malice in plot- 
 ting and preparing them. See page 123, note 2. Sliylock appears, at all 
 events, to have known that such reports were coming, before they came. 
 Yet I suppose the natural impression from the play is, that he lent the ducats 
 and took the bond on a mere chance of coming at his wish. But he would 
 hardly grasp so sharply at a bare possibility of revenge, without using means 
 for turning it into something more. This would mark him with much darker 
 lines of guilt. Why then did not Shakespeare bring the matter forward 
 more prominently ? Perhaps it was because the doing so would have made 
 Shylock appear too steep a criminal for the degree of mterest which his part 
 WM meant to carry in the play. In other words, the health of the drama aa 
 
172 THE MERCHANT OJf VENICE. ACT V. 
 
 Por. How now, Lorenzo ! 
 
 My clerk hath, some good comforts too for you. 
 
 Ner. A.J, and I'll 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. 
 
 Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
 Of starved people. 
 
 Por. It is almost morning, 
 
 And yet I'm sure you are not satisfied 
 Of these events at full. Let us go in ; 
 And charge us there upon iuter'gatories,- 
 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. \_Exeiait. 
 
 a work of comic art required his criminality in this point to be kept in the 
 background. He comes very near overshadowing the other characters too 
 much, as it is. And Shylock's character is essentially tragic ; there is none 
 of the proper tiniber of comedy in him. 
 
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 IiEIGHTOW'S GREEK LESSORS. Prepared to accompany 
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 Half morocco 1.00 1 
 
 This work contnins about one hundred lessons, trith a progressive series of exercises (botis' 
 Greek and English), mainly selected from the first book of Xenophon's Anabasis. The exer^ 
 cises on the Moods are sufficient, it is believed, to develop the general principles as stated m 
 the Grammar. The text of four chapters of the Anabasis is given entire, with notes and . 
 references. Full vocabularies accompany the book. * 
 
 These lessons, with the additional exercises to be tiunslated into Greek, are believed to be a 
 Biifdcient prejiaratlon in Greek Composition for admission to any American colljege. 
 
 LIDDELL & SCOTT'S GHEEK-ENGLISH LEXICON. 
 
 Abridged from the new Oxford Edition. 13th Edition. Morocco back . . 2.40 i 
 
 Sheep binding . . 2.80 | 
 
 LIDDELL & SCOTT'S GREEK-ENGLISH LEXICON". 
 
 The sixth Oxford Edition unabridged. Ito. Morocco back ... . 9.60 i 
 
 Sheep binding 10-40 3 
 
 Full calf 16.00 S 
 
 We have made arrangements with Messrs. Macmillan fc Co. to publish in this country'^ 
 their new edition of Ljddell & Scott's Greek Lexicons, and are ready to supply the trade. 
 
 The English editions of Liddell & Scott are not sterfotyppii ; but each has been thoroughly ] 
 revised, enlarged, and printed anew. The sixth edition, just published, is larger by one 
 eighth than the fifth, and contains 1865 pages. Tt is an entirely different, work from the first J 
 edition, the whole department of etymology having been rewritten in the light of modem in- 1 
 vestigations, and the forms of the irregular verbd being given in greater detail by the aid of 
 Veitch's Catalogue. No student of Greek can afford to dispense with this invaluable Lexicon, j 
 the price of which is now for the first time brought within the means of the great body ot 1 
 American scholars. 
 
 ALLEN & GREElSrOUGH'S LATIN GRAMMAR. A 
 
 New Latin Qrammar for Schools and Colleges. By J. H. and W. F. Allen, and 
 J. B. Qreenough, Instructor in Latin in Harvard College, and Lecturer on Com- 
 parative Philology in the University course. 
 
 A SYSTEM OP DRAWING. By the late John S. Woodman f 
 
 of Dartmouth College. '. 
 
 OUR WORLD, No. II. ; or, Grammar School Geography. By 
 
 Mary L. Hall. .s 
 
 ALLEN'S LATIN GRAMMAR, LESSONS, COMPO- I 
 
 SIXION, LEXICON, AND PRIMEK, each .... 1-00 | 
 
 READER WITH VOCABULARY 2 00 I 
 
 MADVIG S LATIN GRAMMAR 2.50 ! 
 

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