t'^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 '-.^«' 
 
 .•^'% 
 
 
 
 % 
 
 
 
'^^ cp- 
 
 T^Q^ : 
 
 
 
 
 
 "^<p- 
 
 • • • ,v' 
 
 ^^'\ 
 
 5* ' ♦^^ 
 
 v-^^ 
 
 
 r. -^^0^ : 
 
 ■vt> •- A° <^ •'•^' aT 
 
 '-*-*'' ^ 4? .•;»A*:* -^ ^ .*yi', ^ -ftp %^ 
 
 ''•>i>.i^' 
 
 ^^'\ 
 
 
 V ^^'''^. 
 
 
 
 
UBRARYOF^S'!'5?!5i 
 
 J___Vols___ 
 
 ■ 
 
 Quan^ 
 Trim 
 
 " 
 
 3lor__ 
 
 ahels 
 
 >nnt^_Gold_ . 
 
 _BU^_____— 
 
 Thickness 
 
 ■■^^^^2TREBlNP___k 
 
 \bk — 
 
 
 
 
 Ine\|vcase__ 
 
 
 
 
 1bensevv_ 
 
 
 
 % 
 
 \GUW\ 
 InLLER^^ 
 
 - — 
 
 t^ew____ 
 
 V- 
 
 nSTUB 
 
 1filler__ 
 
 Pattern — 
 
 ^_Rub___ 
 
 
 Itape 
 lsTyB___ 
 
 C.,mple _ 
 
 Special Prep^ 
 
 
 — - — 
 
 Icov 
 - — lsiz_ 
 
 See;_Sh£SiL_ 
 
 Labels 
 
 
 - ITRM 
 
 _Cloth_PW^_ 
 Bkrm._PW::_ 
 
 Insert 
 Mat_ 
 
 Mat. _ 
 
 1fls^_ 
 _1job#__ 
 
 _Ret^_Mat^_ 
 
 — 
 
 
 Icovx 
 
 pts,_BdJn 
 
 Paper __ 
 
 
 
 — ^ 
 
 ^ 
 

XTbe Xaurel Classtcg 
 THE 
 
 Merchant of Venice 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 EDITED BY 
 FREDERICK MANLEY. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 C. C. BIRCHARD & COMPANY 
 
 1901 
 
.hollar' 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 CONGRESS, 
 Two Cortia Received 
 
 fUL. 18 1901 
 
 COPVHIGHT ENTRY 
 
 CLASS4«@ XXe. N* 
 COPY B. 
 
 Copyright, iqoi, 
 
 by 
 
 C. C. BiRCHARD & Company 
 
 Stanbopc iprees 
 
 H. GILSON COMPANY 
 BOSTON, U.S.A. 
 
f n Acmorfam 
 
 W. S. STAFFORD 
 
 WHO DEVOTED THE BEST YEARS OF HIS LIFE 
 
 TO THE INTERPRETATION OF 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S PLAYS. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This edition of Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice 
 is intended, primarily, for use in the class room, and 
 therefore I have endeavored, throughout my work, to 
 keep constantly in mind the needs of the young 
 student. 
 
 I have avoided, as much as possible, the introduc- 
 tion of any matter calculated to weaken the interest of 
 the student or to interfere with his enjoyment of the 
 play as a great work of art, while I have done my best 
 to give every aid necessary to the mastery of grammat- 
 ical and etymological difficulties, and to provide such 
 commentaries as, in my opinion, might enable the 
 student to form an appreciative judgment of the play 
 as an example of Shakespeare's dramatic art. 
 
 A number of words usually glossed in school texts 
 I have allowed to go unexplained, for the reason that 
 they may be easily looked up by the students them- 
 selves in Webster's Dictionary, and because they are 
 treated therein more fully and certainly far more ably 
 than I could ever hope to treat them myself. 
 
 I have received help from so many sources in the 
 preparation of this work that it is impossible to enu- 
 
PREFACE 
 
 merate severally all my obligations. I am most deeply 
 indebted, however, to Dr. Wm. J. Rolfe, who very 
 kindly read part of my manuscript, and gave me the 
 benefit of his criticisms. He also made several valua- 
 ble suggestions to me with respect to the introduction ; 
 and he generously gave me the benefit of his long ex- 
 perience as a teacher and interpreter of the master 
 poet's plays. 
 
 Next to my obligation to Dr. Rolfe comes my indebt- 
 edness to the Variorum Shakespeare of Fumess, a 
 work to which I have turned continually for help and 
 which, the more I studied it, the more I admired it, 
 not only for its accuracy and great scholarship, but 
 also for the fine quality of the editor's annotations. 
 
 It also gives me pleasure to acknowledge the interest 
 taken in my work by Mr. Edward Howard Griggs, and 
 to thank him here for several timely and most helpful 
 criticisms. 
 
 It would take too much space to set forth a list of 
 all the books upon which I have drawn, and so I have 
 contented myself with furnishing the titles of a small 
 number only. These, however, are of the first im- 
 portance, and some of them (which I indicate by a 
 cross, thus t) are works which the student of Shake- 
 speare should have by him constantly. 
 
 n 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction ix 
 
 Text . 
 
 3 
 
 Notes 119 
 
 Glossary 163 
 
 Bibliography 185 
 
INTRODUCTION* 
 
 SOURCES OF THE PLOT. 
 
 Concerning the source of The Merchant of Venice 
 we have no definite knowledge. Many pages have 
 been written upon the subject, and much effort has 
 been put forth by scholars of various nationalities in 
 their search for the book, or story, or legend, to which 
 Shakespeare is indebted for the plot of the present 
 drama. The literatures of Europe and Asia have been 
 ransacked for whatever might bear a resemblance to 
 the poet's comedy ; and the zeal with which the search 
 has been conducted has led many students, especially 
 those who have lacked the saving grace of humor, 
 through countries and times with which, in all likeli- 
 hood, Shakespeare was entirely unacquainted. 
 
 In a work like the present, it is impossible to enter 
 exhaustively into any one of the many discussions re- 
 garding the source of The Merchant, or to set forth, in 
 full, any of the rather numerous conjectures that have 
 been made about Shakespeare's indebtedness to this 
 source or that ; for this book is designed to be used in 
 the classroom, and any attempt at a display of antiqua- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 rian learning would not only be out of place, but would 
 defeat the aim of the editor ; . which is, to make the 
 study of Shakespeare as interesting as possible to the 
 student, and to give him only such assistance as is 
 essential to an understanding and appreciation of the 
 text. 
 
 The three stories which, in the present play, are so 
 skillfully interwoven and so perfectly related, are 
 " as old as the hills," and are to be found, with only 
 slight variations, in Buddhistic and in Italian literature, 
 as well as in the ballads and tales of the French, Ger- 
 man, Greek and English peoples. 
 
 The story of the bofid arid the powid of flesh appears 
 in the " Cursor Mundi," a collection of tales, secular 
 and religious, compiled in Northumbria in the thir- 
 teenth century. In the fourteenth century we find it 
 in the Gesta Romanorum, a collection of stories writ- 
 ten in Anglo-Latin, and translated into English about 
 1450. The story of the caskets also appears in this 
 collection, and the same story is told in a romance 
 called " Barlaam and Josaphat," written in Greek by 
 loannes Damascenus, about a.d. 800, and translated 
 into Latin before the thirteenth century. In this ro- 
 mance the trick of the caskets is employed by a king 
 to illustrate to his courtiers the vanity of appearances. 
 
 In the " Confessio Amantis " of Gower (1325?- 
 1408) we read of a king who uses the same means to 
 
 X 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 moralize upon the uncertainty of Fortune, and the story 
 is likewise told in the ** Decamerone " of Boccaccio. 
 
 In the Gesta Romanorum there is found the tale 
 of a Roman Emperor who makes use of the casket 
 trick with a view to gaining an estimate of the char- 
 acter of the lady who is betrothed to his son. It is 
 remarkable that the three caskets used by this Emperor 
 have inscriptions almost identical with those given in 
 the present play. It would, however, be unwise to 
 reason from this that Shakespeare was directly in- 
 debted to the Gesta Romanorum for the ground-plan 
 of his beautiful sub-plot of the caskets ; for this story, 
 and others of a like nature, must have enjoyed a wide- 
 spread popularity ; and one may safely believe that 
 the tale of the caskets had been used more than once 
 by some of Shakespeare's predecessors. 
 
 The story of the bond occurs in a collection of 
 romances written by a Ser Giovanni, a notary of 
 Florence, about 1378, but not printed till 1558. Here 
 we have a Jew of Venice whose hopes of a bloody 
 revenge are frustrated by a lady from Belmont; and 
 here also we find the sub-plot of the rings. 
 
 In Percy's Reliques there is an old ballad in which 
 the bond story is set forth, the Jew in this case being 
 named Gernutus, one " who lending to a merchant a 
 hundred crowns, would have a pound of his flesh, 
 because he could not pay him at the day appointed." 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Again, in the 95th Declamation of the Orator, by 
 Alexander Sylvan, there are passages which so closely 
 resemble some of Shylock's speeches in the trial-scene 
 that it is difficult not to believe that Shakespeare was 
 acquainted with this work, a translation of which 
 appeared in 1596. 
 
 The fourteenth tale of Masuccio di Salerno suggests 
 the elopement of Jessica. A rich miser figures in it, 
 and this miser acts toward his daughter very much as 
 Shylock does toward Jessica, keeping her securely 
 housed, and exercising the most niggardly economy. 
 This daughter, like Jessica, robs her father and is 
 carried off by her lover'; and her father, like Shylock, 
 is stricken with grief by the perfidy of his daughter 
 and infuriated by the loss of his treasure. 
 
 That Shakespeare had read this novellino, and that 
 it furnished him with the motif of Jessica's elopement, 
 we may doubt, the probability being that he had come 
 across it in some old play, or in the work of one of 
 his contemporaries. Indeed, we know for certain that 
 there was a play produced, some years before Shake- 
 speare began his career as a playwright, embodying the 
 two stories of the bond and the caskets. This old 
 play is mentioned by Stephen Gosson in his School of 
 Abuse, published in 1579. Gosson himself was some- 
 time a writer of plays, but later in life he came to 
 regard playwriting as a most ungodly craft, and even 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 went so far as to call poets, players, and so forth, the 
 " caterpillars of a commonwealth." There were some 
 plays, however, which Gosson considered tolerable, 
 even commendable, and one of these was. The Jew, 
 given at the Bull playhouse, and " representing," says 
 Gosson, "the greediness of worldly choosers, and 
 bloody minds of usurers." By this, no doubt, is meant 
 the story of the bond and the device of the caskets : 
 hence we are inclined to believe that it was this old 
 play to which Shakespeare was indirectly indebted for 
 the plot of the Merchant. 
 
 There are some critics who believe that we see in 
 Marlowe's Jew of Malta the prototype of Shylock ; that 
 in Ithamore, the slave of Barabas, we have the fellow 
 of Launcelot Gobbo, and that the situations between 
 Marlowe's Jew and his daughter Abigail should be 
 compared with those between Shylock and Jessica. It 
 is doubtful, however, whether the student will find 
 any resemblance between the two plays, other than 
 that each has for its central figure a Jew. Nay, we 
 may say, with all respect for Marlowe's genius, that 
 Barabas is neither Jew, Christian, nor Moslem : he is a 
 monstrous mask. Shylock is a human being ; Barabas 
 is a demon. Shylock sins through deep, intense pas- 
 sion; Barabas sins unnaturally. Shylock suffers, as 
 he sins, profoundly ; Barabas siiffers rhetorically. 
 
 As for Ithamore, his slave, having any kinship with 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 honest Launcelot Gobbo — it were as well to talk of 
 a resemblance between the grotesque and impossible 
 demons of Dore''s pictures and the delightfully human 
 peasants of Van Ostade. Launcelot is a good-natured 
 fellow, full of quips and fancies and lovably roguish 
 ways; but one thinks of Ithamore, not as a creature 
 having any counterpart among human beings, but as a 
 monstrosity. 
 
 Here is one recountal of his pleasant deeds : 
 
 Barabas. But tell me now, how hast thou spent thy time ? 
 Ithamore. In setting Christian villages on fire, 
 
 Chaining of eunuchs, binding galley-slaves. 
 
 One time I was an ostler in an inn, 
 
 And in the night-time secretly would I steal 
 To travellers' chambers, and there cut their throats. 
 
 Once at Jerusalem, where the pilgrims kneeled, 
 
 I strewed powder on the marble stones. 
 
 And therewithal their knees would rankle so. 
 
 That I have laughed a-good to see the cripples 
 
 Go limping home to Christendom on stilts. 
 
 Jew of Malta, Act II., Scene iii. 
 
 The creation of a monster like this was impossible 
 to Shakespeare's genius. It is true that in the works 
 of the master-dramatist we are sometimes horrified by 
 the depths of passion in his characters and by their 
 lusts ; by the intensity of their hatreds, and by the 
 awful results inevitably consequent upon these: but 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 the horror in us arises from the knowledge that the 
 tragedies we behold in the poet's works are lying dor- 
 mant in the nature of every man as terrible possibilities, 
 and our being trembles in their sensible presence. But 
 if we have any sense of humor we are not horrified 
 by such a figure as Marlowe's Ithamore ; we are rather 
 inclined to smile, and to see in him only a painted 
 devil, having no parallel in nature, and fitted to in- 
 spire fear only in simple folk or children. Or we are 
 disgusted, and turn away from him with loathing. 
 
 Shakespeare's indebtedness to Marlowe, then, so far 
 as his characterizations are concerned, may be regarded 
 in the same light as man's indebtedness to his brutish 
 primeval ancestor ; for if Shakespeare indeed took ad- 
 vantage of Marlowe's material, he used it as nature is 
 held to have used the ape, and out of something bestial 
 and cruel, his Promethian mind created men. 
 
 Marlowe's Jew of Malta was first acted in 1591. 
 The Merchant of Venice was probably produced about 
 1596, though as to this we cannot be certain. 
 
 Barabas was undoubtedly a great favorite with 
 Elizabethan audiences, being the very embodiment of 
 the groundling's conception of a Jew, that is, one whose 
 sole delight in life was to murder Christians, to poison 
 their wells, to drink the blood of Christ on Easter 
 night, to lure Christian children into dark places and 
 there crucify them, and to destroy Christian rulers. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 That this last-named charge was not directed by either 
 superstition or prejudice of race, but on good and suffi- 
 cient evidence, the Londoners of the last decade of the 
 seventeenth century would prove, at least to their own 
 satisfaction, by instancing the case of the then notorious 
 Roderigo Lopez, a Jewish physician, who was hanged 
 at Tyburn in the Spring of 1594, having been found 
 guilty of an attempt upon the life of the queen. Lopez 
 was at one time in the service of Lord Leicester, but 
 was afterwards appointed physician to Elizabeth. At 
 her court he became known to the Earl of Essex, who 
 was at this time nearing the heyday of his power. 
 There was then at the court a Portuguese refugee, one 
 Antonio Perez, who claimed to be the rightful heir to 
 the throne of his country, which, according to his story, 
 he was prevented from occupying by King Philip of 
 Spain : and as in these days there was little love be- 
 tween the Spanish and the English, Perez found in Eliz- 
 abeth a ready sympathizer, and was received by her with 
 favor. Dr. Lopez, it appears, was master of several 
 languages, among which was the Portuguese, and Essex 
 engaged him as interpreter to Perez. Lopez was at 
 first interested in the pretender, and worked with the 
 others to secure to him the restoration of his rights. 
 It appears, however, that there was nothing kingly in 
 the fellow, and Lopez, undoubtedly a man of strong 
 personality and considerable ability, gradually lost in- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 terest in Perez and his cause, and finally parted with 
 him and his patron, Essex. It is said that after this 
 he attempted to poison Perez, having been bribed to 
 do so by certain hirelings of the Spanish king. It is 
 also said that he was importuned to poison Elizabeth, 
 which, however, he refused to do. Nevertheless, he 
 was arrested by Essex, who had discovered that a plot 
 was being laid against the life of the queen, and was 
 tortured by that young nobleman into a confession of 
 guilt. He was tried at Guildhall and condemned, 
 much to the rabble's satisfaction, who fondly believed 
 him guilty, and saw in the unfortunate man the incar- 
 nation of their superstitions concerning the Jewish 
 people. 
 
 Imagine, then, after this Lopez affair, the popularity 
 of a play having for its central figure a Hebrew so 
 execrable as Barabas. How the pennies of the Lon- 
 doners must have flowed into the box-office, and the 
 mob struggled into the "yard" of the theater, since 
 called the pit, but then a fitting name for the place 
 where the crowd herded. There under the heavens (for 
 theaters had not as yet got roofs) the crowd swarmed, 
 cursing the play or praising it, not always according 
 to its merits, swilling beer and cracking nuts, or em- 
 ploying them as small ammunition wherewith to strike 
 unacceptable actors ; munching apples, gambling at 
 cards, and behaving generally like a noisy mob at a 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 
 Interior of an Elizabethan Theater. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 fair. And, indeed, fairs and dramatic spectacles were 
 still closely associated in the minds of the people, for 
 it was on a bare platform, under the open sky, that 
 the early actors used to perform, chiefly on fair-days 
 and holy-days, with a rustic multitude for audience, 
 and the village green for auditorium. 
 
 Seated about the stage, some in their private boxes, 
 some on three-legged stools which they have hired for 
 the occasion, are the cavaliers, who signify their delight 
 by thumping with their swords, and nodded approval 
 with their plumed heads. Upon the rushes with which 
 the stage is covered, struts the gallant, his silk cloak 
 thrown back upon his shoulder while he strokes his 
 mustachios, and shows his white and jewelled hand to 
 someone whom he is ogling. Near him, with impudent 
 stare and loud, rude voice, there is usually a number 
 of young bullies, who come swaggering in from the 
 Strand. There also may be seen a crowd of cox- 
 combs, titled impertinences, pressing upon the actors 
 and interrupting the play with their senseless tricks, 
 their favorite one consisting in tickling each other's 
 ears with rushes taken from the stage. In the midst 
 of these people the players strut, sometimes losing 
 their cues, the babel is so great, and often coughing 
 out their lines, the smoke is so thick and rank. For 
 all around them, the gentlemen are puffing the smoke 
 of their Trinidad tobacco, and blowing it in rings, in 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 divers fancy ways, each according to his ability, the 
 groundlings, or occupants of the " yard," sometimes 
 applauding the fanciest smoker. 
 
 We can easily imagine with what greedy delight an 
 audience of this kind would receive Marlowe's Bara- 
 bas. Indeed, so popular was the Jew of Malta that 
 it was presented no less than twenty times between 
 the spring of 1594 and the close of that year, a long 
 run for a play in those days. Shakespeare and his 
 manager, we may imagine, marked with what fanatical 
 delight the populace flocked to witness Marlowe's 
 play, and perhaps it was this hunger of the Londoners 
 for Jewish characters on which they might feed their 
 hate, that prompted Shakespeare to write his Merchant 
 of Venice. 
 
 Some may contemn this belief on the ground that 
 it makes the inspiration of genius dependent upon the 
 capricious demands of the public, and the mind of 
 Shakespeare the handmaid of vulgar taste. There is 
 a difference, however, between the recognition of a 
 demand and the manner in which the demand is met. 
 From the little that we know of Shakespeare, we can 
 be reasonably certain that he was preeminently a man 
 of action. His hand was ever on the pulse of his 
 age, and at no time was he unaware of its needs. 
 If a play was wanted from him, whether by his sov- 
 ereign or his public, it was quickly forthcoming, — ^ 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 but he supplied it in his own way, regardless of 
 opinion, oblivious, we doubt not, to such a [thing as 
 public taste in his hours of creation, and so lovingly 
 occupied with the children of his genius that the 
 world, for the time being, was as a strange family to 
 him. 
 
 We may well believe that the crowds in the gallery 
 and the yard of the Globe and Blackfriars theaters 
 accepted Shylock as an offering to their prejudice and 
 loathing, and that they beheld his ruin with much 
 gloating and brave shrieking ; with roars of laughter 
 for Gratiano's quips and loud applause for Portia's 
 cleverness. With what jeers must the exit of the 
 frustrated Jew have been attended, with what curses 
 and fierce sibilation ! 
 
 We have changed somewhat ; have grown to pity 
 Shylock — nay, even to sympathize with him. The 
 demon of Burbadge (the original Shylock) with the 
 fiery beard and false nose — the vent-hole of Eliza- 
 bethan injustice and wrong — what a difference be- 
 tween him and the dignified figure, so full, withal, of 
 the despicable and the pathetic, of our great modern 
 actors 1 Anathema and execration have given place to 
 philosophical disquisition concerning, not the deviltry 
 of Shylock, but the justice of his bond, the right and 
 wrong of his enemies. Some will even have it that 
 he is no longer the villain, but the victim of "Jus 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Summa Injuria," of the strict interpretation of abstract 
 legal right, and that the play as a whole, instead of 
 being the sometime medium of pleasing the prejudiced 
 groundling, is really a great illustration of the relation 
 of the individual to property. 
 
 We may readily grant that the play contains such 
 elements, but we refuse, under favor, to believe, with 
 some writers, that out of the principles of " property 
 and the individual," or of " Jus Summa Injuria," the 
 master dramatist created the Merchant of Venice. For 
 this theory carries with it the ridiculous, but inevitable 
 corollary, that the characters of Shakespeare are but 
 allegorical puppets, which live, move and have their 
 being through virtue of the ologies and the isms which 
 they are supposed to exemplify ; which theory, we 
 may remark, is about as valuable, for mankind, as 
 would be an astronomical theory that held the stars 
 of heaven as chiefly valuable for their practical illustra- 
 tion of the law of gravitation. It was the object of 
 the old plays known as mysteries, miracles, and moral- 
 ities, to body forth incidents of sacred history, prin- 
 ciples of conduct, and theologic dogma: and in this 
 they succeeded admirably. But they never rose to 
 the dignity of the true drama, for they lacked the 
 virility of life, its freedom and mobility, its height and 
 depth, its humor and its tears. They were sermons 
 in tableaux vivants, spectacular exhortations to right- 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 eousness. We ought, therefore, to look askance upon 
 any theory which classes Shakespeare as a writer of 
 philosophical mysteries or ethical miracles. For the 
 only true way of regarding him is as " the Hierophant 
 of Nature," and to look upon his dramas as interpre- 
 tations of life. And this, you may remark, implies 
 all manner of mysteries and miracles, all kinds of 
 philosophies, theologies and theories of individual and 
 property, abstract legal right and moral justice, every- 
 thing, indeed, which makes up the sum of man's 
 existence. 
 
 In the Merchant of Venice, it is not any one pivotal 
 principle which interests us to the exclusion of all 
 others ; it is the clash of dissimilar natures, the con- 
 flict of love and hatred, justice and wrong, mercy and 
 revenge ; the intermingling of laughter and tears, of 
 joy and despair, of dark enmities and sunlight friend- 
 ships — of all the lights and shadows that play, in 
 swift alternation, about the ways of Life. 
 
 Not in " Jus Summa Injuria," and not in the relation 
 of the individual to property, nor in any other abstrac- 
 tion, is the genesis of the Merchant to be looked for ; 
 and he who attempts to read this, or any other true 
 piece of poetry, in the light of these, will read in but a 
 kind of dim moonshine, and strain his mental vision 
 without any result, and certainly without any enjoy- 
 ment ; which latter, if it be of the right kind, is one 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 of the ends toward which the study of literature is 
 directed. It is true, of course, that you will find the 
 above mentioned theories in the Merchant of Venice ; 
 but the question is. How many theories and principles 
 will you not find, or imagine you find, in this human 
 circle of the master's creation ? It contains both the 
 tragic and comic sides of life ; is indeed a sort of twi- 
 light comedy, having in it at once the sparkle and joy- 
 ousness of the day, and the sober shades of evening, 
 yet hovering so perfectly between the two that we 
 know not whether to be sad or merry. 
 
 While we are trembling for the fate of Antonio, and 
 preparing to shed tears over his untimely taking-off, 
 Portia, the embodied love of the drama, as Shylock is 
 the incarnate hate, breaks upon the scene like comfort- 
 ing sunlight through storm-clouds, and dissipates the 
 dire forces which are being prepared for Antonio's de- 
 struction. And yet we cannot resist the feeling of 
 sadness which possesses us at the ruin of Shylock, 
 even though we know that with his ruin the salvation 
 of Antonio is purchased, and " Antonio is a good man," 
 a man of generous heart and mind, of practical charity, 
 and of much Christian kindness. But Shylock, too, is 
 such a man, in all the strength and force of the word, 
 that while we rejoice for Antonio's sake, we are deeply 
 touched by the confusion of the Jew, and wish that his 
 exit might not be accompanied by such humiliation and 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 despair. We feel that under other circumstances than 
 those presented in the play, Shylock might be admi- 
 rable. We feel that, after all, he is not so culpable 
 in his hatred as the social conditions that have kin- 
 dled its fierce fires in his heart, conditions surely 
 tragic, under which the Jews wore the badge of in- 
 famy and the garb of disgrace, were pent together in 
 foul ghettos like cattle, branded like them by the iron, 
 and stripped of their skin by the bloody lash of Chris- 
 tian persecution, wielded by centuries of prejudice 
 and cruelty. Also under which such a character as 
 Antonio, otherwise thoroughly lovable, could detest 
 the Jew so intensely as to forfeit, for the time being, 
 '*s rank of gentleman by playing the bully and debas- 
 ' ig his manhood by a cowardly misuse of his social 
 privileges, which we cannot read of without a feeling 
 of shame. Let it not be said that this feeling of shame 
 in us is due to the want of " the historical mind," that 
 Antonio was as good as his social environments would 
 let him be ; that his ill-treatment of Shylock sprang, 
 not altogether from personal dislike, but from his 
 inherited detestation of the Jew as an enemy of the 
 Saviour, and from his loathing of usury, which the 
 Church had taught him, and all her children, to regard 
 as a sin against God and man. The current opinions 
 and beliefs of any period of history cannot, perhaps, 
 be rightly estimated and appreciated without a well 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 adjusted historical perspective, but it yet remains to be 
 proved that the immortal part of man, his indestructi- 
 ble love of justice, his noble impulses and generous 
 motives, have ever been aborted, or even dulled, by 
 the wickedness and ignorance of any century in the 
 history of mankind. Antonio, like many other men, 
 can be generous enough where he loves, where it is 
 easy to be generous, but of the generosity which comes 
 of love, in the beautiful Christly sense of the word, he 
 appears to have little, or even none at all. When we 
 first meet Antonio, we see him under a cloud of sad- 
 ness, an inexplicable sadness, for which his compan- 
 ions, Salarino and Salanio, have divers explanations. 
 Chiefly that he is worrying about his merchandise ; for 
 what else, as they think, is it possible to fret over but 
 wealth and the possible diminution of means to enjoy- 
 ment which the loss of wealth entails ? An explana- 
 tion, however, which the haughty merchant rejects. 
 As to being in love, he ridicules the idea ; and as he 
 himself cannot enlighten us, we are tempted to indulge 
 in guessing, and say that his sadness foreshadows the 
 coming disasters. But as the disasters end in happi- 
 ness, we must needs let his sadness be, unless we 
 reason that the state of his affairs is really responsible 
 for his condition of mind. For notwithstanding his 
 statement that his "ventures are not in one bottom 
 trusted," nor his " whole estate upon the fortune of the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 present year," it afterwards appears, in his confession 
 to Bassanio, that all his fortunes are at sea, and that 
 he has " neither money nor commodity " wherewith to 
 raise the money which Bassanio needs to furnish him 
 " to Belmont, to fair Portia." But Antonio is too proud 
 to make such an admission to his young satellites. 
 
 From Bassanio he conceals nothing. Between these 
 two there is an ideal friendship, an affection in whose 
 depths of tenderness all that is base is submerged and 
 lost, and all that is beautiful and ennobling is gen- 
 dered. Their love is like that of two brothers, the 
 wayward and impulsive Bassanio reverencing the 
 thoughtful and sober Antonio, who, in his turn, regards 
 his wild young kinsman with somewhat of a parent's 
 tenderness. There is no thought, whether it be of joy 
 or sorrow, that Bassanio keeps from him ; and there is 
 no task too difficult for Antonio's love. 
 
 How natural, then, that Bassanio, dreaming of win- 
 ning a wife and a fortune, yet without the means of 
 purchasing the opportunity to do so, should appeal to 
 Antonio ; that Antonio, reckless in the generosity of 
 his love for Bassanio, should, for his love's sake, break 
 an honored custom, and bid him borrow the money 
 which he himself is unable to supply. How natural, 
 too, that Bassanio, intoxicated by sweet thoughts of 
 success, and impatient for the ripening of his schemes, 
 should go straight to the man most likely to have the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 money on hand, to the famous money-lender, Shylock 
 the Jew ! 
 
 There is a tone of condescension in the reply of the 
 Jew to the request of Bassanio, which irritates that 
 young nobleman ; for Shylock speaks of Antonio as 
 though he were some petty dealer in commodities ; 
 considers long before signifying his willingness to lend 
 the money, and finally says, with a lordly air : "I 
 think I may take his bond." 
 
 To Antonio himself he is more respectful, though 
 from the first we know that on Shylock's side there 
 is hate ; on Antonio's, contempt. Were this hate for 
 the merchant, as Shylock's first utterances in his pres- 
 ence might imply, the hate of a usurer for one whose 
 charity impairs his business, we might then be justi- 
 fied in representing Shylock, as did the actors before 
 Macklin, as an unnatural monster, and in classing him 
 with Barabas : — but mark the reasons which follow : 
 
 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. 
 
 If Antonio, a patrician among merchants, is haughty, 
 and contemptuous toward the Jew, Shylock, a digni- 
 fied presence among his people, is no less proud : a 
 man capable of much reverence, sensitive about that 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 nation which he so justly admires, and quick to feel 
 any slight put upon him for his creed, for his worship 
 of the God of Israel. To insult him on account of 
 his religion is to sneer, indirectly, at the augustness 
 of the Jew's Jehovah ; and to jeer at the traditions of 
 his, or indeed any man's people, when the traditions 
 are, like those of the Hebrews, so lovingly cherished, is 
 to bruise his egoism, to abase his intelligence, to pro- 
 claim his forefathers a race of dotards -and his nation 
 a parcel of fools. And there is no people that takes 
 its religion, and even the dogmas and ceremonials 
 which have clustered around it, so deeply in earnest as 
 the Jews ; nor can we discover in the spiritual history of 
 man any creed so consistent as theirs, or any concep- 
 tion of Deity which has so withstood the invasions of 
 philosophy, the inroads of new ideas, and the stronger 
 influences of a despotic, proselytizing ecclesiasticism, 
 through centuries of hardship, and among unfriendly 
 peoples. And this consistency of the Jews as a nation 
 is, to a great degree, the key-note of Shylock's char- 
 acter. In thought, word and deed he is a Hebrew ; 
 in his devotion to the law of his fathers, in his rever- 
 ence for their traditions, and in his contempt for 
 whoever or whatever is not of Jewry. Never, for a 
 moment, is his nationality hidden. One can easily 
 imagine him sacrificing with Abraham, or worshipping 
 with David. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 A writer lacking the great genius of Shakespeare 
 would doubtless, in creating Shylock, have given to his 
 conversation a copious Talmudic sprinkling, the better 
 to impress us with his nationality. But the Jew of the 
 master is not compound of such tricks of type ; and 
 yet who would not recognize in him a grand Hebraic 
 figure, even were he nameless, and his nationality a 
 secret ? In the blaze of the Renaissance, the glorious 
 day of Christianity, following the darkness of Medie- 
 valism, he stands alone, somber, proud, and looks down 
 upon the feverish joys and activities of the time with 
 somewhat of the contempt of an old French aristocrat 
 for the ostentation of a parvenue Bourgeoisie. For he 
 is part of that first morning when Jehovah breathed 
 into chaos, and to him the light of the Renaissance is 
 but a mere coruscation of paganism. 
 
 Venice is magnificent, full of pomp and grandeur. 
 Her skies have in them a tender azure ; her sunsets 
 are unequalled in their ineffable beauty. Mists of opal 
 dream upon her emerald waters, and in them are re- 
 flected palaces of marble whose chambers are treasur- 
 ies of art, whose walls are lovely with the pictures of 
 great masters, Giorgione, Tintoret, Veronese, and 
 Titian. Everywhere the eye is delighted with a blaze 
 of color, and the whole city is a piece of sensuous 
 loveliness. Her quays teem with sailors and traders 
 from every known corner of the globe, who mingle, as 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 they hurry to and fro, the hues of their garments under 
 the shadows of the silken-sailed argosies — a vast 
 human rainbow of Protean magnificence. Her very 
 pavements are of chrysophase, and shine translucent 
 green in the sunlight ; and though the feet of sorrow, 
 which is everywhere immortal, press them daily, still 
 they are crowded mostly with figures that are bent 
 upon joy and merriment. Here, indeed, life seems 
 a dream of happiness, all light and fair as the peaks 
 of the Euganian hills in moonlight. Shylock is no part 
 of this beauty, this riotous boyhood of the world. He 
 is like a chapter of Job in the Sermon on the Mount. 
 To him the so-called religion of the Venetians is exe- 
 crable. Their mirth is unholy. Their God is an 
 outrageous travesty upon his Jehovah. Their prodigal- 
 ity is sinful, and their thoughts and actions impious, 
 being a contradiction and denial of the Law and the 
 Prophets. In this luxuriant valley of the Renaissance, 
 he resembles a solitary rock, cast there by the up- 
 heavals of a dim past ; an anomaly, preserving, 
 amidst all this softness and poetry, somewhat of the 
 primordial granite. 
 
 When Antonio, in the face of Venice, spat upon this 
 dignified figure, and spurned and mocked him, how 
 should he divine what craters of revengeful fires were 
 raging under the submissive shrug of the patient Jew ? 
 And could Bassanio have peered into the depths of 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Shylock's heart, he would have gone elsewhere for his 
 ducats. But to him, as to Antonio, Shylock is but a 
 mere Jew, a man, so far as injury to them is concerned, 
 altogether impotent. 
 
 Long before Shylock appears upon the scene, the 
 poison of his loathing for Antonio has formed within 
 him. The rank social soil in which the Christian 
 forced the Jew to grow, gave birth, after centuries of 
 darkness and abuse, to bitter plants, souls of hemlock. 
 On such a soul Antonio had trampled often and ruth- 
 lessly, crushing out of it all the venom of its nature 
 and diffusing it through Shylock's being. When, there- 
 fore, Bassanio comes to Shylock with the proposition 
 that Antonio become his debtor, may we not imagine 
 Shylock thanking God for His goodness in providing 
 him with an opportunity for revenge? Perhaps the 
 bond and the pound of flesh came immediately to his 
 mind. He goes to meet Antonio, inwardly gloating over 
 the thought of the proud merchant's pecuniary embar- 
 rassment, but he hides his eagerness to make Antonio 
 indebted to him under a show of business prudence. 
 But the sight of Antonio, his supercilious demeanor, his 
 air of lofty independence, even in borrowing, betray 
 him into a recountal of his wrongs, suffered at the 
 hands of the merchant, and wring from him those 
 words of such bitter irony: 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 — 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 would a stranger cur. 
 Over your threshold : moneys is your suit. 
 What should I say to you ? Should I not say, 
 « Hath a dog money ? Is it possible 
 A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? " Or 
 Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key 
 Say this : " Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last 
 You spurned me such a day ; another time 
 You called me dog ; and for these courtesies 
 I'll lend you thus much moneys ? " 
 
 Antonio's retort is cowardly. He cannot deny the 
 truth of what Shylock says, is unable, or unwilling, to 
 justify himself, and evidently seems to consider the 
 Jew's criticism of his brutal conduct a great imperti- 
 nence, for he tells him he is as like to call him dog 
 again, to spit on him again, to spurn him, too ; sneers 
 at his business of money-lending, despite the fact that 
 in this instance he finds it a convenience, and haughtily 
 bids him lend the money, not as to a friend, but to an 
 enemy, 
 
 Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face 
 
 Exact the penalty. 
 
 It is a challenge. Shylock, in his heart, accepts it, 
 but outwardly deprecates Antonio's storming, and, that 
 the proposal of the bond may be received " in a merry 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 sport," vows that he would be friends with him, lend 
 him the required money, and take no interest for the 
 use of it. Antonio accepts this offer in good faith ; at 
 least, he is content to risk a pound of his flesh and to 
 believe the bond to be, in truth, a merry sport. Bas- 
 sanio objects, not too strenuously, however; and An- 
 tonio, laughing at his fear, closes with the Jew, who 
 goes off to the notary's in triumph. 
 
 The strain of thoughtlessness, verging almost on 
 selfishness, which is sufficiently apparent in Bassanio's 
 somewhat weak aquiescence to the sealing of the bond, 
 is not calculated to win our respect ; but neither is it, 
 in Bassanio's case, any deterrent to our affection. He 
 has the warrant of friendship for appealing to Antonio 
 for help, the temptation of hope and desire to make 
 him accept of it to the danger of his friend, and a tem- 
 peramental daring and impulsiveness which make pru- 
 dence impossible and bedim whatever foresight he 
 may have. Indeed, Bassanio is a creature of impulse, 
 for the most part generous, and even noble ; a man, 
 besides, of the liveliest conception and decisive action, 
 but in whom the heart is master of the head : impres- 
 sionable to an exquisite degree ; capable of fiery en- 
 thusiasm; chivalrous-hearted, and ready to follow an 
 idea, or even a fancy, whithersoever it may lead him, 
 reckless of consequences. A man of indestructible 
 hope and forward-looking spirit ; a soldier of fortune 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 to whom chance is as a companion, and the speculative 
 world a fit stage for the activities of his daring nature. 
 In him, more than in any other character of the play, 
 are figured forth the enthusiasm, the courage, the hope, 
 the love of beauty and life, as well as the moral light- 
 ness, of the Renaissance; just as the antithetical at- 
 tributes of patriarchal times, grim conservatism, narrow 
 prudence, and deep earnestness touched with gloom, 
 are embodied in Shylock. 
 
 To Bassanio the thought of failure in any scheme he 
 has once formed never comes to trouble him ; nay, per- 
 haps even the spectres of old hopes, the minatory shapes 
 of wrecked enterprises rising out of his past, only serve 
 to make the contemplated venture all the more alluring 
 to him. In setting forth his hopes in regard to Portia, 
 he makes light of all the renowned suitors blown into 
 Belmont from every coast, and tells Antonio that, were 
 the means at hand to furnish him to the fair Colchis 
 where the lady dwells, he should, beyond question, 
 prove to be the fortunate Jason. Perhaps the memory 
 of the fair, speechless messages received from Portia's 
 eyes justifies this most confident assertion; but such 
 is the nature of the man that even had the messages 
 never been sent, one can fancy him going forth to try 
 issues with chance from very love of the adventure. 
 
 It is clear that in such a character narrow self- 
 interest or sordid motives could never dominate the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 thoughts, or exercise any directive influence upon the 
 actions. And hence Bassanio, of all men in the world, 
 would be the one most likely to appeal to the noble- 
 hearted Portia, and to bring into her life the happi- 
 ness which she deserves, and which her ever-virtuous 
 father hoped to secure to her in devising the lottery of 
 the three caskets. It is the happy fruition of the fath- 
 er's hopes which forms the element of comedy in The 
 Merchant of Venice, not the deliverance of Antonio, 
 for that is accomplished by means of most questionable 
 honesty, and at the expense of the Jew's happiness, 
 perhaps of his life. In conventional melodrama, the 
 downfall, even the destruction of "the villain," does 
 not disturb us ; nay, we rather expect to see him either 
 killed or frustrated, and are not at all disturbed when 
 the nemesis overtakes him, for he is usually an impos- 
 sible creature, the personification of sin and wrong, put 
 into the play as a foil to virtue and to make her inevi- 
 table triumph the more glorious. But Shylock is a 
 human being who, though he sins deeply, sins not 
 without provocation, and is, in turn, sinned against; 
 which fact, if it do not give rise to an actual tragic 
 element in the play itself, suggests tragic thoughts to 
 our minds. It is because fate sometimes plays tragi- 
 cally with such beings as Portia, in such situations as 
 hers, and turns the sunshine of such natures into black 
 sorrow, and because, loving and admiring her as we do, 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 we behold fortune making her sunshine more radiant, 
 instead of turning her day to night, — it is because of 
 this that we are filled with that sense of repose and 
 gratification which springs from the consummation of 
 something greatly desired, and which it is the chief 
 end of Comedy to bring to us. 
 
 Portia is a woman of sensibilities as exquisite as the 
 snow garments which Winter gives to mountain pines, 
 and any breath of rudeness would come to them as a 
 cruel injury. There is in her nature, as in that of all 
 good women, something mountain-like, a noble lofti- 
 ness of mind, a whiteness of soul, spotless and unassail- 
 able, and a tenderness of heart that is like green 
 places nearer earth, full of comfort and peace, of 
 flowers and beauty. Should an unkindly fate marry 
 her to a base man, what a tragedy that were 1 For 
 with all her tenderness, with all her loyalty to her 
 father's memory and her respect for his wishes, with 
 all the submissiveness of her love and all that faithful 
 recognition of duty which her nature teaches and her 
 mind commends, with all this, she has in her a 
 strength of individuality akin to Chalybean steel. For 
 her love's sake, it will bend: in opposition to one 
 whom she disliked, how easily might it become a thing 
 of danger 1 For the wit that warms and illumines can 
 also make the spirit dark. The mind that is capable 
 of recognizing and appreciating nobility can also 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 recognize baseness and loathe it. And the heart that 
 loves greatly can hate intensely. But Portia is so fair- 
 souled and lovable that it seems as if fate itself must 
 grow tender toward this beautiful creature, make her a 
 favorite, weave chaplets of orange blossoms for her 
 brow, and supplement her worldly opulence with the 
 riches of love. 
 
 The happiness of her future is dependent upon 
 chance. Bassanio confesses that he goes to woo 
 Portia in the hope of winning her through chance. 
 Antonio borrows money that the chance may be taken, 
 and trusts to chance to pay this money back ; and it is 
 on the chance of revenge that Shylock stakes the 
 interest of his loan. On this current of chance these, 
 and indeed all men, are borne, some to desolate places, 
 others to delightful shores ; some to love and beatitude 
 in happy gardens of Belmont, others to sober houses 
 in ghettoes, to desolation and despair : 
 
 The old saying is no heresy, 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 
 It is to be noted here, that by a beautiful stroke the 
 poet has made hatred the lackey of love. The ducats 
 which are given by Shylock in the hope of revenge, 
 are the means wherewith Bassanio is led to Portia. 
 The instrument designed for an evil end is the begetter 
 of good, and the petard by which the plans of the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 designer are brought to nothing. Mark, however, that 
 while an auspicious destiny is watching over Portia at 
 Belmont, reserving her for Bassanio, whom she loves, 
 leading the thrasonical Morocco, in his barbaric taste, 
 to choose the golden casket, and the vain Arragon to 
 select the casket of silver, this same destiny is deep- 
 ening the night in Shylock's soul, and giving him 
 reasons enough to make his desire for a pound of 
 Christian flesh somewhat natural, however repulsive. 
 In other words, Shakespeare is humanizing the usur- 
 ious Hebrew. 
 
 Launcelot Gobbo, his servant, leaves him to enter 
 the service of Bassanio, who furnishes him with a 
 brave new livery, out of Shylock's ducats. The Jew, 
 according to Launcelot, is the devil himself, a most 
 miserly devil in whose household a servant is almost 
 starved. As we get better acquainted with Launcelot, 
 however, we find that the young gentleman is given 
 to playful epithets and somewhat exaggerated descrip- 
 tions ; that his love of fun is out of all proportion to 
 his respect for truth, and that his irrepressible fond- 
 ness for pun-making and quibbling keeps his state- 
 ments in a continual quarrel with fact. And so one can 
 easily believe that he left the service of the Jew, not 
 because he was famished therein, but because the sober 
 house of Shylock did not afford him sufficient oppor- 
 tunity for gossip and merriment. And, then, a nature 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 like his, compact of laughter, would hardly dis- 
 cover anything lovable in the stern and taciturn Jew. 
 It is when Launcelot goes to his old master's house to 
 announce his departure that we are introduced to 
 Jessica. The conversation between these two, care- 
 lessly read, might lead us to see in Shylock a species 
 of monster, a most unnatural parent, and a man to 
 whom the love of gain is much dearer than his child. 
 These are the first words of Jessica : 
 
 I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so ; 
 Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil. 
 Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
 
 Would it not appear as if Shylock maltreated her ? 
 Did Shakespeare mean to convey this impression ? 
 If so, he has failed. With his usual mastery, he has 
 made personality a greater force, and a surer basis of 
 judgment, than either incident or statement. As we 
 grow to know Jessica, we find in her a frivolous crea- 
 ture to whom the household of any staid man would 
 be unbearable. For her youth's sake, we can pardon 
 much that she says and does, and taking into con- 
 sideration the constant suggestion to pleasure in the 
 gay world into which she could gaze longingly, as 
 through bars, but into which she might not enter, we 
 can sympathize with her in her desire for freedom, and 
 even connive at her elopement with the man she loves. 
 
 xl 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 But taking her all in all, she is one of the few unlov- 
 able women that the master has created, vain, falsely 
 proud, ashamed of her father, her religion and her 
 people, while her robbery of her father's money and 
 jewels is, out of doubt, shameful. 
 
 It is not without good cause that Shylock, in taking 
 leave of her and Launcelot, should feel some ill a-brew- 
 ing towards his rest, and be right loath to go to the 
 supper of those Christians by whom he is to be robbed 
 of his money and his child. It is in this scene that 
 there occurs one of the most affecting passages in the 
 play, the one wherein Shylock breaks in upon his 
 daughter and Launcelot while they are preparing a 
 fresh sorrow for his already embittered life. 
 
 Launcelot : Mistress, look out at window, for all this : 
 
 There will come a Christian by 
 
 "Will be worth a Jewess' eye. 
 Shylock : What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha 1 
 Jessica : His words were, " Farewell, mistress," nothing else. 
 Shylock : The patch is kind enough. 
 
 The thought that Launcelot has been kind to his 
 child, and is liked by her, changes Shylock's harsh 
 inquiry to words that have in them a hidden tender- 
 ness, words which, coming from one so grim and 
 undemonstrative, are equivalent to the warm praise of 
 an ordinary man. 
 
 The elopement of Jessica takes place between the 
 xli 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 signing of the bond and the date of its forfeiture ; and 
 though we cannot presume to say that Shakespeare 
 consciously designed this sub-plot to justify the inten- 
 sity of Shylock's hatred and the fierceness of his lust 
 for revenge, it is nevertheless true that from this point 
 on the Jew ceases to be merely a despicable usurer, 
 becomes altogether human, an outraged father, and a 
 man who is deeply wronged. 
 
 While Bassanio is on his way to Belmont and happi- 
 ness, we are made acquainted with the grief of Shylock 
 at the loss of his daughter and his treasure : and as 
 though the sorrow of his seared heart were too great 
 to be exhibited, as though his cries of rage and bitter- 
 ness were too pathetic to be heard, and altogether too 
 tragic for a comedy, the words and actions of the Jew 
 immediately after his discovery of his losses are re- 
 ported to us by the gossamer-minded Salanio and 
 Salarino. 
 
 Salanio : I never heard a passion so confused, 
 
 So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 
 As the dog Jew did utter in the streets. 
 
 Naturally, the " dog Jew " being quite human, as fond 
 of his child as other parents of theirs, as prone to feel 
 wrong, as susceptible to disgrace, and as quick to 
 avenge himself on the wrong-doers. The rabble of 
 Venice follows him with mocking cries ; casts stones at 
 
 xlii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 him, no doubt, and out of his grief extracts the sweets 
 of Christian enjoyment at a Jew's confusion. 
 
 Some time after this, we again meet Salanio and 
 Salarino, and hear from them that Antonio has had 
 misfortune. Shylock breaks in upon their conversa- 
 tion, and is greeted by Salanio with these words : 
 
 How, now, Shylock, what news among the merchants ? 
 
 What news could there be for him among the mer- 
 chants but their sneers, their laughter, their ironic 
 references to Jessica's elopement ; their winks and 
 nudges and ill-concealed titterings ? It is these two 
 gadflies, Salanio and Salarino, devoid of all true 
 charity, that sting Shylock, in this scene, into the 
 grandest vindication of the inherent rights of man, 
 the most sublime protest against injustice, that has 
 ever been written. Here his hate is no longer per- 
 sonal : it is a sort of divine hate which has in it the 
 cry of a martyred people against the slavery of cen- 
 turies, against the rack, the bloody shambles, the 
 cruel whip, the garb of shame 1 What an idea we 
 should possess of the ethical consciousness of the 
 times of Elizabeth, could we but know what effect this 
 speech had upon Shakespeare's audience, such a one 
 as we have attempted to describe. They had but 
 lately shrieked and cursed as Lopez mounted the scaf- 
 fold, " He is a Jew 1 " And now Shylock stood before 
 zliii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 them, grand in his utterance of eternal truth, proudly 
 declaring, " I am a Jew 1 " Nowhere is the greatness 
 of Shakespeare more manifest. 
 
 It is also in this scene that Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew 
 of Shylock's tribe, annoimces to him the fruitlessness 
 of his search for Jessica ; and it is in this scene that 
 Shylock wishes his daughter were dead at his feet, 
 and the ducats she has stolen in her coffin, — cruel 
 words, but, considering how cruelly she had wronged 
 him and disgraced her people, they would not appear 
 wholly unmerited to one who could regard the matter 
 sympathetically with the Jew ; and they are certainly 
 the natural outburst of Shylock's present state of mind, 
 now well nigh on the verge of madness, and tormented 
 by the jibes and pricks of Salanio and Salarino into a 
 blind fury. 
 
 When Tubal tells him of Antonio's losses, his lamen- 
 tation is changed to an insane delight, and he thanks 
 God for what, to him, is consoling news. It seems, 
 then, that the Lord of Hosts has not forgotten and 
 deserted him, but on the contrary has delivered one of 
 the authors of his sorrow into his hands 1 The stroke 
 of art whereby Tubal is made to intermingle bad news 
 with good, the announcement of Antonio's adversity 
 with Shylock's losses, is exceedingly fine ; and when 
 we see and hear the sorrow and indignation which 
 burst from Shylock on learning that his daughter has 
 xliv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 sold his turquoise for a monkey, a sacred and precious 
 memento for a frivolous novelty, our hearts are touched 
 with pity, and we feel that his vow to have the heart 
 of Antonio is not the bloody ranting of a demon, but 
 the expression of wild rage in a persecuted man, the 
 fierceness of a long-suifering soul loosed from its 
 thralldom, and seeking vengeance on its harasser. 
 
 In the trial scene, the cruel inflexibility of the man 
 changes this feeling of pity into one of horror ; yet in 
 his most despicable moments we cannot resist enter- 
 taining for him a secret admiration, he is so great 
 intellectually, so granite-like in the strength and con- 
 sistency of his resolve, so honest in his hatred. Such 
 a perfectly able man 1 He fights the Christian state 
 of Venice single-handed, and they must needs resort 
 to quibbles to defeat him. 
 
 The capacity for intense hatred is a sad attribute in 
 the most prosaic of beings : in a man like Shylock it is 
 tragic. That we ought to loathe him for nursing such 
 a terrible design upon Antonio, is true ; but it is also 
 true that the existence of so cruel and unjust a society 
 as this wherein Shylock's lot is cast, a society so 
 bloody and fierce in its prejudices as to justify the 
 great hatred which the Jew has for it, is a tragedy in 
 itself, so full of awe that no comedy, however exquis- 
 itely humorous, can quite make us consider it lightly, 
 or pass over it with a smile. 
 
 xlv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 When the news of Antonio's danger reaches Bel- 
 mont, Bassanio immediately hurries off to Venice, 
 bearing with him a large sum of money furnished by 
 Portia, whom he has had the good fortune to win as 
 his wife ; by which means he hopes to tempt Shylock 
 from his bloody purpose. In this he acts impulsively, 
 relying, as usual, upon a happy chance to deliver his 
 friend, and not upon any well conceived plan of action. 
 Had he paid sufficient attention to the words of 
 Jessica : 
 
 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 — 
 
 had he marked these words, his belief in the potency 
 of his ducats to charm the Jew might not have been so 
 great. 
 
 It is Portia who, broader-visioned than Bassanio, 
 and divining that a man's hate, like his love, may be 
 stronger in him than greed of gain — it is she who now 
 becomes the protagonist in this drama of life-and-death 
 struggle between friendship and enmity. We have 
 seen how faithful she has been to her duty, with what 
 a noble passivity she has bowed to the will of her dead 
 father, with what fortitude she has submitted and 
 endured ; we now begin to see with what strength 
 xlvi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 she can act, with what clear-sightedness she can plan, 
 and how forcefully she is able to put her plans into 
 execution. Her preparations for Antonio's defense 
 are made with all the attention to detail, and with all 
 the elaborate care of a practiced lawyer. This practi- 
 cal spirit, however, which in Portia is the wisdom of 
 womanhood co-operating with a beautiful femininity, 
 does not at any time prevent the joyous element of 
 her nature from expressing itself, and her girlishness, 
 with all its delicate humor and love of innocent fun, 
 robs her preparations of their somber significance, and 
 comes to us as a beautiful relief to the dark earnest- 
 ness of Shylock's malice. Bound on a mission whose 
 success is essential to her husband's well-being, and 
 feeling the weight of her responsibility with all the 
 earnestness of her heart and mind, she can, withal, 
 give play to the sunshine of her being in her humorous 
 comments on her undertaking, and in her proposed 
 wager with Nerissa, that being accoutered like young 
 men she will prove the prettier fellow of the two, and 
 play the part of a young bragging Jack with more 
 fidelity. Even when, as Balthasar, she enters the 
 court and takes her place as judge, there is a playful- 
 ness breaking through her assumed dignity which 
 lights up the gloom of the scene and serves to rob it of 
 its terrors. But this playfulness must not be mistaken 
 for a want of appreciation, on her part, of the situation. 
 xlvii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 It is rather an inward exulting that she finds it difficult 
 to control and conceal. For well she knows that the 
 case is already decided ; that here she is supreme ; and 
 her heart is glad at the thought that she, for whose 
 love's sake Antonio is suffering, is now able to dis- 
 charge love's debt and be his savior. 
 
 Portia is the nemesis of Shylock. It is this great 
 love of hers, which the Jew's ducats helped Bassanio 
 to win, that now confronts his fierce hatred. It is 
 dawn come to annihilate darkness. Yet such is the 
 kindness of her womanly heart that she would fain 
 be merciful even to this most inveterate enemy of her 
 husband's friend, and would win him to mercy rather 
 than force him to justice. The pity of it is that the 
 Jew cannot understand her mercy. He is a graduate, 
 not of a school of charity, but of a school of villainy, 
 wherein he has been well taught, and the instruction 
 whereof he now purposes putting into practice. 
 
 Mercy belongs to Christ, and the followers of Christ 
 have murdered, tortured, vilified the Jew. Justice 
 belongs to God, and the child of Jehovah will kill the 
 Christian 1 An eye for an eye — what, to Shylock, 
 could be fairer? The Mercy of which Portia speaks 
 is as foolish to him as the grim Law of Shylock is 
 horrible to Portia, and besides, between the Jew and 
 the Christian it is a question of " Thy life or mine ; 
 thy prosperity and happiness or mine I " and thinking 
 xlviii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 himself master of the situation, could anything appear 
 more foolish to Shylock than to throw away his advan- 
 tage, and break the oath of vengeance which he has 
 recorded in heaven ? His reasoning is unanswerable ; 
 his logic irresistible. Beyond question, he is horrible 
 in his thirst for a bloody satisfaction, but notwithstand- 
 ing, he is great ; and we cannot resist the impulse to 
 admiration as he stands there striking all Venice into 
 dumb terror. The combined intellects of that court 
 would be no match for the man : in fair open fight 
 he can catch them all upon the hip and beat them. 
 But as of old the great Samson was shorn of his 
 strength by a woman's art, so now is Shy lock's power 
 of mind, the strength of his legal position, and the 
 mighty force of his hatred brought low, utterly over- 
 turned and rendered impotent by the wit of Portia. 
 
 She sets her trap in the cunningest way imaginable, 
 leading the Jew to the gin of self-interest, and catching 
 him fast in the toils of his weaknesses, which the hood- 
 winked victim believes to be his most inexpugnable 
 strengths. Nevertheless, he is but trapped ; and traps 
 and Justice, gins and Right, have no faintest shadow 
 of relationship. 
 
 It has often been said that Shylock is robbed of his 
 pound of flesh by a legal quibble ; that for the court to 
 declare that it awards a pound of flesh, and that the law 
 doth justly give it, and then to say that if, in cutting 
 
 xlix 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 the flesh, one drop of blood is shed, it is no longer a 
 lawful act, but a crime — all this, it is held, is but the 
 merest trick of sophistic refinement. And this is true : 
 but Portia, it must be remembered, does not rest her 
 case, ultimately, on this quibble. Shakespeare, as Mr. 
 Wm. J. Rolfe has admirably pointed out,^ was too great 
 an artist to be content to follow strictly the old and 
 familiar story of the bond and the pound of flesh. It was 
 a story undoubtedly well known to his audience, and 
 had he neglected to incorporate in his play the most 
 sensational part of the tale, it is almost certain that 
 The Merchant would have failed of popular success. 
 Besides, the ingenious quibble served his dramatic pur- 
 pose admirably, and he uses it with an effect unparal- 
 leled in dramatic literature. The intellectual power of 
 Shylock is met by the wit of Portia ; the fierceness of 
 the Jew's lust for Antonio's blood is brought into sharp 
 opposition with the mercifulness and pity of his victim's 
 beautiful savior, and the mad desire of the Jew for a 
 frightful satisfaction is contrasted with the calmness 
 and self-possession of Portia, secure in her sense of 
 justice and upheld by the sacredness of her cause. 
 But whence springs this sense of justice? Surely not 
 from her knowledge of the dead letter of the law, not 
 from the certainty that it is impossible for Shylock to 
 cut " just a pound of flesh " and in the cutting to avoid 
 
 ^ See Furaess' Variorum Shakespeare, p, 225. 
 1 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 spilling a drop of Antonio's blood : it springs from a 
 far deeper source than this, from the consciousness 
 that it is eternally wrong for any man to desire the life 
 of another and eternally right to deprive the would-be 
 murderer of his power to carry out his awful design. 
 The hold which the law has on Shylock is, not that he 
 cannot conform to the condition of the bond, but that 
 he has plotted against the life of Antonio, whom he 
 hates. Shakespeare was too great a man, was too 
 deeply religious and fair-minded to overlook an inde- 
 structible ethical law for the sake of a dramatic situa- 
 tion, however ingenious it might be. But it is this 
 very greatness of Shakespeare as a humanist which 
 gives rise to inconsistencies in Portia's behavior irrec- 
 oncilable with her actions in general, and certainly 
 with her lofty principles of Christianity as set forth in 
 the famous plea for mercy. For acting in harmony 
 with her own principles of mercy, Portia would have 
 advised Shylock beforehand of the worthlessness of 
 his case, and so proved consistent with herself: as it 
 is, she plays with the Jew, and even seems to throw 
 brands of promise upon the fire of his hope, as if to 
 deepen her pleasure in its inevitable extinguishment, 
 or to enjoy her own sense of power. But the neces- 
 sities of the plot compel this behavior on Portia's part, 
 for though according to justice Shylock ought not to 
 be robbed of his money, still, according to dramatic 
 
 U 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 laws, he must be so robbed, else where were the thrill- 
 ing climax of the scene, and, in the player's parlance, 
 the " fine business " of the situation. 
 
 It is not the loss of Shylock's ducats, however, which 
 disturbs us, for what is his money compared with 
 Antonio's salvation? — nor is it his failure to wreak 
 his vengeance upon the good merchant; for, on the 
 contrary, the chagrin, the inward rage, the bitterness 
 of spirit, which this failure must bring to Shylock, are 
 but a merited punishment for the crime of his mon- 
 strous desire. But when we learn that he is to be 
 robbed of his goods ; that he is to be a pensioner on 
 the bounty of those who have wronged him ; that he 
 is to be compelled, on pain of death, to forswear his 
 nation and renounce his God ; that he is, in short, 
 to be reduced to a social cipher, a nonentity — then 
 our hearts get full of pity for the man ; he becomes in 
 one's eyes a martyr to Christian injustice, and the 
 thought of his wrong casts a gloom over the joy of 
 Antonio's deliverance, and the comedy of the scene is 
 quite lost in the pathos of its humanity. 
 
 Love, as we have seen, conquers hate : and this is 
 well. But cruelty crushes mercy, and strength and 
 cowardice trample upon weakness. This is not well. 
 The crowds in the Globe and Blackfriars were no 
 doubt delighted ; and one may be permitted to wish 
 that Shakespeare had not provided this particular cause 
 
 Hi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 of their enjoyment. For the genius of the master, 
 working after the manner of all mighty spirits, created 
 Shylock a man, with all the failings to which man is 
 heir, and with certain qualities to which but few are 
 heirs, and by creating him thus he has, at least for 
 the modern mind, raised up a figure of so tragic an 
 aspect that it casts a shadow over the joyousness of 
 the play, a shadow that will not be dispelled, and which 
 makes it almost impossible to regard the Merchant as 
 a comedy, but rather as a tragedy greatly relieved by 
 a wealth of humorous incident and dialogue. 
 
 The fifth act of this drama is justly placed among 
 the great lyrics of the world's literature. Perhaps, as 
 many commentators agree, its soft airs, its peace, its 
 music, its poetry, its rich suggestiveness of the charms 
 of a night flooded with moonlight and beautiful with 
 the witchery of love, were designed as a contrast to 
 the struggle and the fever of the trial-scene, and meant 
 to lead the spirit from the storm and stress of the 
 preceding act into a sweet repose. But does it not 
 rather deepen our feeling of sorrow for Shylock, and 
 intensify the gloom into which the Jew has been cast ? 
 Not if we share the Venetians' prejudice, and dismiss 
 Shylock as a demon who has been well served. But it 
 is quite otherwise if we consider him as a man hardly 
 treated, and especially if a sympathetic imagination 
 follows him from the court-room. May we not, in 
 
 liii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 fancy, go with him through the streets of Venice ? 
 There, with bent head and wild eyes, dazed by the 
 stroke which Christian mercy has dealt him, he totters 
 along, the cries and curses of the rabble sounding to 
 him like dream-noises, and their blows and pelted 
 scoria falling upon him unheeded. We may go with 
 him to the door of his sober house wherein his child 
 once dwelt with him, not without love ; where the 
 Christians envied, and his countrymen honored him ; 
 where he passed his days in peace, worthily, honestly, 
 a good citizen (could the Venetians have but seen his 
 qualities), but wherein he must henceforth dwell in 
 solitude, in darkness of soul and disgrace ; perhaps 
 cease to exist at all, for what his thoughts are on 
 staggering from the court, no one can tell. Meanwhile, 
 the pretty Jessica will be happy with her lover at 
 Belmont. Portia will banish Shylock from her thoughts 
 and live in the light of her love, Bassanio. Antonio 
 will continue to be honored, perhaps to soil Jewish 
 gaberdines, and all the fortunate ones of the play will 
 no doubt live long and prosper, and make their final 
 exit from life as good Christians and much lamented 
 citizens. 
 
 liv 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 > suitors to Portia. 
 i, ) 
 
 The Duke of Venice. 
 
 The Prince of Morocco, 
 
 The Prince of Arragon, 
 
 Antonio, a Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Bassanio, his friend, suitor likewise to Portia. 
 
 Salanio, >| 
 
 ^ , ' ^ friends to Antonio and Bassanio. 
 
 Gratiano, I 
 
 Salerio, J 
 
 Lorenzo, in love with fessica. 
 
 Shylock, a rich few. 
 
 Tubal, a few, his friend. 
 
 Launcelot Gob bo, the clown, servant to Shylock. 
 
 Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot. 
 
 Leonardo, servant to Bassanio. 
 
 Balthasar, 
 
 , servants to Portia. 
 Stephano, 
 
 Portia, a rich heiress. 
 
 Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 
 
 Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 
 
 Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, 
 Servants to Portia, and other Attendants. 
 
 Scene : Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of 
 Portia, on the Continent. 
 
Vj^N. 
 
 The Globe Theatre. 
 The authenticity of this drawing Is somewhat doubtful. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 ACT ONE. 
 Scene I. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 Enter Antofiio, Salaritw, and Salanio. 
 
 Antonio. In sooth, I know not why 1 am so sad : 
 It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; 
 But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
 What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
 I am to learn ; 
 
 And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
 That I have much ado to know myself. 
 
 Salarino. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
 There, where your argosies with portly sail, 
 Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 
 Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
 Do overpeer the petty traffickers. 
 That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, 
 As they fly by them with their woven wings. 
 
 Salanio. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
 The better part of my affections would 
 
 3 
 
Act I. sc.2. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
 Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind ; 
 Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads ; 
 And every object that might make me fear 20 
 
 Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt 
 Would make me sad. 
 Salar. 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, 30 
 
 And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, 
 Which touching but my gentle vessel's side 
 Would scatter all her spices on the stream, 
 Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks. 
 And, in a word, but even now worth this, 
 And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the 
 
 thought 
 To think on this ; and shall I lack the thought, 
 That such a thing bechanced would make me 
 
 sad ? 
 But tell not me ; I know Antonio 
 Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 40 
 
 4 
 
OF VENICE Act I. sc.i. 
 
 Ant. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune for it, 
 My ventures are not in one bottom trusted. 
 Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate 
 Upon the fortune of this present year : 
 Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 
 Salar. Why, then, you are in love. 
 Ant. Fie, fie I 
 
 Salar. Not in love neither ? Then let us say you 
 
 are sad. 
 Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
 For you to laugh, and leap, and say you are 
 
 merry, 
 Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed 
 
 Janus, 50 
 
 Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time : 
 Some that will evermore peep through their 
 
 eyes. 
 And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper ; 
 And other of such vinegar aspect, 
 That they '11 not show their teeth in way of smile, 
 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 
 
 Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kins- 
 man, 
 Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well : 
 We leave you now with better company. 
 
 S 
 
Act I. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Sa/ar. I would have stay'd till I had made you 
 
 merry, 60 
 
 If worthier friends had not prevented me. 
 Ant Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
 
 I take it your own business calls on you, 
 
 And you embrace the occasion to depart. 
 Sa/ar. Good morrow, my good lords. 
 Bassanio. Good signiors both, when shall we 
 laugh ? say, when ? 
 
 You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 
 Sa/ar. We '11 make our leisures to attend on yours. 
 
 [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 
 Lorenzo. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found 
 Antonio, 
 
 We two will leave you : but at dinner-time 70 
 
 I pray you have in mind where we must meet. 
 Bass. I will not fail you. 
 Gratiano. You look not well, Signior Antonio ; 
 
 You have too much respect upon the world : 
 
 They lose that do buy it with much care : 
 
 Believe me, you are marvellously changed. 
 Ant I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
 
 A stage, where every man must play a part, 
 
 And mine a sad one. 
 Gra. Let me play the fool : 
 
 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 80 
 
 And let my liver rather heat with wine 
 6 
 
OF VENICE Act I. sc.i. 
 
 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, An- 
 tonio — 
 
 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, — 
 
 There are a sort of men whose visages 
 
 Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, 
 
 And do a wilful stillness entertain, 90 
 
 With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
 
 Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, 
 
 As who should say, ' I am Sir Oracle, 
 
 And when I ope my lips let no dog bark 1 ' 
 
 O my Antonio, I do know of these 
 
 That th€irefore only are reputed wise 
 
 For saying nothing when, I am very sure. 
 
 If they should speak, would almost damn those 
 ears 
 
 Which, hearing them, would call their brothers 
 fools. 
 
 I'll tell thee more of this another time : 100 
 
 But fish not with this melancholy bait 
 
 For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. 
 
 Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile : 
 
 I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 
 7 
 
Acti. Sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Lor. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner- 
 time : 
 I must be one of these same dumb wise men. 
 For Gratiano never lets me speak. 
 
 Cra. Well, keep me company but two years more, 
 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own 
 tongue. 
 
 Ant. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. no 
 [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. 
 
 Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, 
 more than any man in all Venice. His reasons 
 are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels 
 of chaff : you shall seek all day ere you find 
 them : and when you have them, they are not 
 worth the search. 
 
 Ant, Well, tell me now, what lady is the same 
 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage. 
 That you to-day promised to tell me of ? 
 
 Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 120 
 
 How much I have disabled mine estate, 
 By something showing a more swelling port 
 Than my faint means would grant continuance : 
 Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 
 From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
 Is to come fairly off from the great debts, 
 Wherein my time, something too prodigal, 
 Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 
 
OF VENICE Act I. Sc.i. 
 
 I owe the most, in money and in love ; 
 
 And from your love I have a warranty 130 
 
 To 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 assured 
 My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
 Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. 
 
 Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 
 I shot his fellow of the self-same flight 
 The self -same way with more advised watch, 140 
 To find the other forth; and by adventuring 
 
 both, 
 I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof, 
 Because what follows is pure innocence. 
 I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth, 
 That which I owe is lost : but if you please 
 To shoot another arrow that self way 
 'Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 
 As I will watch the aim, or to find both, 
 Or bring your latter hazard back again, 
 And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 150 
 
 Ant. You know me well : and herein spend but time 
 To wind about my love with circumstance ; 
 And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
 In making question of my uttermost, 
 
 9 
 
Act I. sc.L THE MERCHANT 
 
 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, i6o 
 
 Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes 
 
 I did receive fair speechless messages : 
 
 Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued 
 
 To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia : 
 
 Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
 
 For the four winds blow in from every coast 
 
 Renowned suitors : and her sunny locks 
 
 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, 
 
 Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' 
 
 strand. 
 And many Jasons come in quest of her. 170 
 
 my Antonio, had I but the means 
 To hold a rival place with one of them, 
 
 1 have a mind presages me such thrift, 
 That I should questionless be fortunate 1 
 
 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. 180 
 
OF VENICE Act I. sc.ii. 
 
 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 room in Portions house. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Portia. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is 
 aweary of this great world. 
 
 Nerissa. You would be, sweet madam, if your mis- 
 eries were in the same abundance as your good 
 fortunes are : and yet, for aught I see, they are 
 as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that 
 starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness, 
 therefore, to be seated in the mean : superfluity 
 comes sooner by white hairs ; but competency 
 lives longer. lo 
 
 Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 
 
 Ner. They would be better, if well followed. 
 
 Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were 
 good to do, chapels had been churches, and 
 poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a 
 good divine that follows his own instructions : 
 I can easier teach twenty what were good to be 
 done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine 
 own teaching. The brain may devise laws for 
 
Acti, sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 the blood ; but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold 20 
 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 ' 1 I 
 may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse 
 whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living 
 daughter curbed by the will of a dead father. 
 Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, 
 nor refuse none ? 
 
 Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy 30 
 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 who shall rightly love. But 
 what warmth is there in your affection towards 
 any of these princely suitors that are already 
 come? 
 
 Por. I pray thee, over-name them ; and as thou 40 
 namest them, I will describe them ; and, 
 according to my description, level at my affec- 
 tion. 
 
 Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 
 
 Por. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing 
 but talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great 
 
OF VENICE Act I. sc. a. 
 
 appropriation to his own good parts, that he can 
 shoe him himself. 
 
 Ner. Then there is the County Palatine. 
 
 Por. He doth nothing but frown ; as who should 50 
 say, ' if you will not have me, choose : ' he 
 hears merry tales, and smiles not : I fear he will 
 prove the weeping philosopher when he grows 
 old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his 
 youth. I had rather be married to a death's- 
 head with a bone in his mouth than to either of 
 these. God defend me from these two 1 
 
 Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur 
 Le Bon ? 
 
 Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass 60 
 for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be 
 a mocker : but, he 1 — why, he hath a horse 
 better than the Neapolitan's ; a better bad habit 
 of frowning than the Count Palatine: he is 
 every man in no man ; if a throstle sing, he falls 
 straight a capering : he will fence with his own 
 shadow : if I should marry him, I should marry 
 twenty husbands. If he would despise me, I 
 would forgive him ; for if he love me to mad- 
 ness, I shall never requite him. 70 
 
 Ner. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the 
 young baron of England? 
 
 Por. You know I say nothing to him ; for he under- 
 
 13 
 
Act I. So. a. THE MERCHANT 
 
 stands not me, nor I him: he hath neither 
 Latin, French, nor Italian ; and you will come 
 into the court and swear that I have a poor 
 pennyworth in the English. He is a proper 
 man's picture ; but, alas, who can converse with 
 a dumb-show ? How oddly he is suited 1 I 
 think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round 80 
 hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and 
 his behaviour every where. 
 
 f/er. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neigh- 
 bour? 
 
 Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ; 
 for he borrowed a box of the ear of the English- 
 man, and swore he would pay him again when 
 he was able : I think the Frenchman became 
 his surety, and sealed under for another. 
 
 Ner. How like you the young German, the Duke 90 
 of Saxony's nephew ? 
 
 Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, 
 and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is 
 drunk : when he is best, he is a little worse 
 than a man ; and when he is worst, he is little 
 better than a beast : an the worst fall that 
 ever fell, I hope I shall make shift to go 
 without him. 
 
 Mer. If he should offer to choose, and choose the 
 right casket, you should refuse to perform 100 
 14 
 
OF VENICE Act I. sc.ii. 
 
 your father's will, if you should refuse to 
 accept him. 
 
 For. 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 will choose it. 
 I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married 
 to a sponge. 
 
 Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of 
 these lords : they have acquainted me with no 
 their determination ; which is, indeed, to re- 
 turn 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 will. I am glad this parcel 
 of wooers are so reasonable ; for there is not 
 one among them but I dote on his very absence ; 120 
 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 company of the Marquis of 
 Montferrat ? 
 
 Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio, as I think he was 
 so called. 
 
 IS 
 
Act I. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Ner. True, madam : he, of all the men that ever 
 my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best de- 
 serving a fair lady. 130 
 
 For. I remember him well ; and I remember him 
 worthy of thy praise. 
 
 Enter a Serving-man. 
 
 How now I what news ? 
 
 Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to 
 take their leave : and there is a forerunner come 
 from a fifth, the Prince of Morocco ; who brings 
 word, the prince his master will be here to- 
 night. 
 
 Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good 
 a heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I 140 
 should be glad of his approach : if he have the 
 condition of a saint and the complexion of a 
 devil, I had rather he should shrive me than 
 wive me. 
 
 Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 
 Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, 
 another knocks at the door. \Exeunt, 
 
 16 
 
OF VENICE 
 
 Act I. Sc. iii. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Venice. A public place. 
 
 Enter Bassanio and Shy lock. 
 
 Shylock. Three thousand ducats ; well. 
 
 Bassanio. Ay, sir, for three months. 
 
 Shy. For three months ; well. 
 
 Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall 
 
 be bound. 
 Shy. Antonio shall become bound; well. 
 Bass. May you stead me ? will you pleasure me ? 
 
 shall I know your answer ? 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and 
 
 Antonio bound. lo 
 
 Bass. Your answer to that. 
 Shy. Antonio is a good man. 
 Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the con- 
 trary ? 
 Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no : my meaning in saying he 
 is a good man, is to have you understand me 
 that he is sufficient. Yet his means are in 
 supposition : he hath an argosy bound to Trip- 
 olis, another to the Indies ; I understand, more- 
 over, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, 20 
 a fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, 
 squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, 
 17 ' ■/' • 
 
Act I. sc.iii, THE MERCHANT 
 
 sailors but men : there be land-rats and water- 
 rats, water-thieves and land-thieves — I mean 
 pirates ; and then there is the peril of waters, 
 winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, 
 sufficient. Three thousand ducats ; I think I 
 may take his bond. 
 
 Bass. Be assured you may. 
 
 Shy. I will be assured I may ; and, that I may be 30 
 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 ? 4a 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 
 
 Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks I 
 I hate him for he is a Christian ; 
 But more for that in low simplicity 
 He lends out money gratis and brings down 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
 If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
 18 
 
OF VENICE Act I. Sc.iiL 
 
 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, 50 
 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
 
 Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
 
 If I forgive him 1 
 
 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 I how many months 
 Do you desire ? [To Ant] Rest you fair, good 
 
 signior ; 60 
 
 Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 
 
 Ant. Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow, 
 By taking nor by giving of excess, 
 Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
 I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd 
 How much ye would ? 
 
 Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 
 
 Ant. And for three months. 
 
 Shy. I had forgot ; three months, you told me so. 
 Well then, your bond ; and let me see ; but hear 
 
 you; 
 Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 70 
 
 19 
 
Act I. sc.iii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Upon advantage. 
 
 Ant I do never use it. 
 
 Shy. When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's 
 sheep, — 
 This Jacob from our holy Abram was, 
 As his wise mother wrought in his behalf. 
 The third possessor ; ay, he was the third, — 
 
 Ant And what of him ? did he take interest ? 
 
 Shy. No, not take interest; not, as you would 
 say. 
 Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 
 When Laban and himself were compromised 
 That all the eanlings which were streak'd and 
 
 pied 80 
 
 Should fall as Jacob's hire, 
 The skilful shepherd pilled me certain wands. 
 And stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, 
 Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
 Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were 
 
 Jacob's. 
 This was a way to thrive, and he was blest : 
 And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 
 
 Ant This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for ; 
 A thing not in his power to bring to pass. 
 But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven. 90 
 Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
 Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ? 
 20 
 
OF VENICE Act I. sou. 
 
 Shy 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 I 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats; 'tis a good round loo 
 sum. 
 Three months from twelve ; then, let me see ; 
 the rate — 
 
 Ant Well, Shy lock, shall we be beholding to you? 
 
 Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
 In the Rialto you have rated me 
 About my moneys and my usances : 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
 You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog. 
 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
 And all for use of that which is mine own. no 
 
 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, 
 
Acti. sc.m. THE MERCHANT 
 
 What should I say to you ? Should I not say 
 
 ' Hath a dog money ? is it possible 
 
 A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? ' or 
 
 Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key, 120 
 
 With bated breath and whispering humbleness, 
 
 say this, — 
 ' Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 
 You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 
 You called me dog ; and for these courtesies 
 I '11 lend you thus much moneys ' ? 
 
 Ant I am as like to call thee so again, 
 To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
 If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
 As to thy friends ; for when did friendship take 
 A breed for barren metal of his friend ? 130 
 
 But lend it rather to thine enemy, 
 Who if he break, thou mayest with better face 
 Exact the penalty. 
 
 Shy. Why, look you, how you storm 1 
 
 I would be friends with you, and have your love, 
 Forget the shames that you have stained me 
 
 with. 
 Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
 Of usance for my moneys, and you '11 not hear 
 
 me: 
 This is kind I offer. 
 
 Bass. This were kindness. 
 
OF VENICE Acti. sc.iii. 
 
 Shy. This kindness will I show. 
 
 Go with me to a notaty, seal me there 140 
 
 Your single bond, and, in a merry sport, 
 If you repay me not on such a day, 
 In such a place, such sum or sums as are 
 Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
 Be nominated for an equal pound 
 Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
 In what part of your body pleaseth me. 
 
 Ant. Content, i' faith : I '11 seal to such a bond, 
 And say there is much kindness in the Jew. 
 
 Bass. You shall not seal to such a bond for me : 1 50 
 I '11 rather dwell in my necessity. 
 
 Ant. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it : 
 Within these two months, that 's a month before 
 This bond expires, I do expect return 
 Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 
 
 Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are. 
 Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 
 The thoughts of others 1 Pray you, tell me this ; 
 If he should break his day, what should I gain 
 By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 160 
 
 A pound of man's flesh taken from a man 
 Is not so estimable, profitable neither. 
 As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, 
 To buy his favour, I extend this friendship : 
 If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
 23 
 
Act I. sc.m. THE MERCHANT 
 
 And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 
 Ant Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 
 Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ; 
 
 Give him direction for this merry bond, 
 
 And I will go and purse the ducats straight; 170 
 
 See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
 
 Of an unthrifty knave, and presently 
 
 I will be with you. 
 Ani. Hie thee, gentle Jew. \Exif Shylock. 
 
 The Hebrew will turn Christian : he grows kind. 
 Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 
 Ant Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; 
 
 My ships come home a month before the day. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 24 
 
OF VENICE Aetn, sa. 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the Pririce of Morocco and 
 his train ; Portia, Nerissa, and others attending. 
 
 Morocco. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
 The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, 
 To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. 
 Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
 Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
 And let us make incision for your love, 
 To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 
 I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
 Hath fear'd the valiant : by my love I swear 
 The best-regarded virgins of our clime lo 
 
 Hath loved it too : I would not change this hue, 
 Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen, 
 
 Por. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
 By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ; 
 Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
 Bars me the right of voluntary choosing : 
 But if my father had not scanted me, 
 And hedged me by his wit to yield myself 
 
 25 
 
Act 11. Sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 His wife who wins me by that means I told 
 
 you, 
 Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 20 
 
 As any comer I have look'd on yet 
 For my affection. 
 Mor. Even for that I thank you : 
 
 Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets, 
 To try my fortune. By this scimitar 
 That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince 
 That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
 I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, 
 Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 
 Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she- 
 bear. 
 Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 30 
 
 To win thee, lady. But, alas the while 1 
 If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
 Which is the better man, the greater throw 
 May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 
 So is Alcides beaten by his page ; 
 And so may I, blind fortune leading me, 
 Miss that which one unworthier may attain. 
 And die with grieving. 
 Por. You must take your chance. 
 
 And either not attempt to choose at all. 
 Or swear before you choose, if you choose 
 
 wrong, 40 
 
 26 
 
OF VENICE Act II. 3c. a. 
 
 Never to speak to lady afterward 
 
 In way of marriage : therefore, be advised. 
 Mor. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my 
 
 chance. 
 Por. First, forward to the temple : after dinner 
 
 Your hazard shall be made. 
 Mor. Good fortune then ! 
 
 To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 
 
 [Cornefs, and exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 
 Enter Launcelot. 
 
 Launcelot Certainly, my conscience will serve me 
 to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is 
 at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, 
 
 * Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or 
 ' good Gobbo,' or ' good Launcelot Gobbo, use 
 your legs, take the start, run away.' My con- 
 science 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 cour- lo 
 ageous fiend bids me pack : * Via 1 ' says the fiend ; 
 
 * away I ' says the fiend ; * for the heavens, rouse 
 up a brave mind,' says the fiend, ' and run.' Well, 
 
 27 
 
Act II. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 my conscience, hanging about the neck of my 
 heart, says very wisely to me, ' My honest friend 
 Launcelot, being an honest man's son,' — or 
 rather an honest woman's son ; — for, indeed, my 
 father did something smack, something grow to, 
 he had a kind of taste ; — well, my conscience 
 says, * Launcelot, budge not.' ' Budge,' says the 20 
 fiend. ' Budge not,' says my conscience. * Con- 
 science,' say I, ' you counsel well ; ' ' Fiend,' say 
 I, * you counsel well : ' to be ruled by my con- 
 science, I should stay with the Jew my master, 
 who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil ; and, 
 to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by 
 the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the 
 devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very 
 devil incarnal ; and, in my conscience, my con- 
 science is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer 30 
 to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend 
 gives the more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend ; 
 my heels are at your command ; I will run. 
 
 Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket. 
 
 Gobbo. 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 I who, being more than sand-blind, high- 
 28 
 
OF VENICE Act II. So. a. 
 
 gravel blind, knows me not: I will try con- 
 fusions with him. 
 
 Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is 40 
 the way to master Jew's ? 
 
 Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next 
 turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your 
 left ; marry, at the very next turning, turn of 
 no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's 
 house. 
 
 Gob. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. 
 Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that 
 dwells with him, dwell with him or no ? 
 
 Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside] 50 
 Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. 
 Talk you of young Master Launcelot ? 
 
 Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son : his 
 father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding 
 poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live. 
 
 Laun. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk 
 of young Master Launcelot. 
 
 Gob. Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir. 
 
 Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech 
 you, talk you of young Master Launcelot ? 60 
 
 Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your master-ship. 
 
 Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master 
 Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, 
 according to Fates and Destinies and such odd 
 29 
 
Actn. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of 
 learning, is indeed deceased ; or, as you would 
 say in plain terms, gone to heaven. 
 
 Gob. Marry, God forbid 1 the boy was the very 
 staff of my age, my very prop. 
 
 Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a 70 
 staff or a prop ? Do you know me, father ? 
 
 Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentle- 
 man : but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God 
 rest his soul, alive or dead ? 
 
 Laun. Do you not know me, father ? 
 
 Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not. 
 
 Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might 
 fail of the knowing me : it is a wise father that 
 knows his own child. Well, old man, I will 
 tell you news of your son : give me your bless- 80 
 ing : {Launcelot kneels^ 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 your blessing: I am Launcelot, 
 your boy that was, your son that is, your child 
 that shall be. 
 
 Gob. I cannot think you are my son. 90 
 
 Laun. I know not what I shall think of that : but I 
 
 30 
 
OF VENICE Actn. sc.u. 
 
 am Launcelot, the Jew's man ; and I am sure 
 Margery your wife is my mother. 
 
 Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed : I'll be sworn, 
 if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh 
 and blood. Lord worshipped might he be 1 
 what a beard hast thou got 1 thou hast got more 
 hair on thy chin that Dobbin, my fill-horse, has 
 on his tail. 
 
 Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail loo 
 grows backward : I am sure he had more hair 
 of his tail than I have of my face when I last 
 saw him. 
 
 Gob. Lord, how art thou changed 1 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 no 
 halter : I am famished in his service ; you may 
 tell ever/ finger I have with my ribs. Father, 
 I am glad you are come : give me your present 
 to one master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare 
 new liveries : if I serve not him, I will run as 
 far as God has any ground. O rare fortune I 
 here comes the man : to him, father ; for I am 
 a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 
 
 31 
 
Actn. Sell. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Enter Bassanio with Leonardo and other followers, 
 
 Bass. You may do so ; but let it be so hasted that 
 supper be ready at the farthest by five of the 120 
 clock. See these letters delivered ; put the 
 liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come 
 anon to my lodging. [£xit a servant. 
 
 Laun. To him, father. 
 
 Gob. God bless your worship 1 
 
 Bass. Gramercy I wouldst thou aught with me ? 
 
 Gob. Here 's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 
 
 Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's 
 man, that would, sir, — as my father shall 
 specify, — 130 
 
 Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would 
 say, to serve — 
 
 Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve 
 the Jew, and have a desire, — as my father shall 
 specify, — 
 
 Gob. His master and he, saving your worship's 
 reverence, are scarce cater-cousins, — 
 
 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 140 
 unto you, — 
 
 Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would be- 
 stow upon your worship, and my suit is, — 
 
 32 
 
OF VENICE Actn. sc. a. 
 
 Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, 
 as your worship shall know by this honest old 
 man ; and, though I say it, though old man, 
 yet poor man, my father. 
 
 Bass. One speak for both. What would you ? 
 
 Laun. Serve you, sir. 
 
 Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 150 
 
 Bass. I know thee well ; thou hast obtain'd thy suit: 
 Shylock thy master spoke with me this day. 
 And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 
 To leave a rich Jew's service to become 
 The follower of so poor a gentleman. 
 
 Laun. 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 i6o 
 
 My lodging out. Give him a livery 
 More guarded than his fellow's : see it done. 
 
 Laun. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have 
 ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man 
 in Italy have a fairer table which doth offel 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 1 eleven widows and nine maids is a 
 
 33 
 
Aetn. scU. THE MERCHANT 
 
 simple coming-in for one man : and then to 'scape 170 
 drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life 
 with the edge of a feather-bed ; here are simple 
 scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she 's a 
 good wench for this gear. Father, come ; I '11 
 take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an 
 eye. [jExeunf Launcelot and Old Gobbo. 
 
 Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this : 
 These things being brought and orderly bestow'd, 
 Return in haste, for 1 do feast to-night 
 My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee, go. i8o 
 
 Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gratiano. Where is your master ? 
 Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. 
 
 [Exif. 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, — 
 Bass. Gratiano 1 
 Gra. I have a suit to you. 
 Bass. You have obtain'd it. 
 
 Gra. You must not deny me : I must go with 
 
 you to Belmont. 
 Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, 190 
 Gratiano : 
 Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice ; 
 Parts that become thee happily enough, 
 
 34 
 
OF VENICE Act II. sc. a. 
 
 And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
 But where thou art not known, why there they 
 
 show 
 Something too Hberal. Pray thee, take pain 
 To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
 Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild 
 
 behaviour, 
 I be misconstrued in the place I go to, 
 And lose my hopes. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me: 200 
 
 If I do not put on a sober habit, 
 Talk with respect, and swear but now and then. 
 Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely ; 
 Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
 Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say ' amen,' 
 Use all the observance of civility, 
 Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
 To please his grandama, never trust me more. 
 
 Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing. 
 
 Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge 210 
 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. 
 
 35 
 
Actn. sc.iii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest : 
 
 But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 77ie same. A room in ShyJock 'j house. 
 
 Enter Jessica and Laiincelot. 
 
 Jessica. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so : 
 Our house is hell ; and thou, a merry devil, 
 Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
 But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee : 
 And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
 Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest : 
 Give him this letter ; do it secretly ; 
 And so farewell : I would not have my father 
 See me in talk with thee. 
 
 Laun. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most lo 
 beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew ! But, adieu : 
 these foolish drops do something drown my 
 manly spirit : adieu. 
 
 Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. [Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
 To be ashamed to be my father's child ! 
 But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
 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. 20 
 36 
 
OF VENICE Act n. sc. iv. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 7^e same. A street. 
 
 Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino and Salanio. 
 
 Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time, 
 
 Disguise us at my lodging, and return 
 
 All in an hour. 
 Gra. We have not made good preparation. 
 Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. 
 Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd, 
 
 And better in my mind not undertook. 
 Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock : we have two hours 
 
 To furnish us. 
 
 Enter Launcelot with a letter. 
 
 Friend Launcelot, what 's the news ? 
 Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it lo 
 
 shall seem to signify. 
 Lor. I know the hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 
 
 And whiter than the paper it writ on 
 
 Is the fair hand that writ. 
 Gra. Love-news, in faith. 
 
 Laun. By your leave, sir. 
 Lor. Whither goest thou ? 
 Laut\. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to 
 
 sup to-night with my new master the Christian. 
 37 
 
Aotn. se.ir. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Lor. Hold here, take this : tell gentle Jessica 
 
 I will not fail her; speak it privately. 20 
 
 Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Will you prepare you for this masque to-night ? 
 I am provided of a torch-bearer. 
 
 Salar. Ay, marry, I '11 begone about it straight. 
 
 Salan. And so will I. 
 
 Lor. Meet me and Gratiano 
 
 At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 
 
 Salar. 'Tis good we do so \JExeunt Salar. and Salan. 
 
 Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ? 
 
 Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 
 How I shall take her from her father's house ; 30 
 What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with ; 
 What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
 If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, 
 It will be for his gentle daughter's sake : 
 And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 
 Unless she do it under this excuse, 
 That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
 Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest : 
 Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt 
 
 38 
 
OF VENICE Actn. sc. v. 
 
 Scene V. 
 77te same. Before Shylock's house. 
 Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 
 Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be the judge, 
 The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio : — 
 What, Jessica I — thou shalt not gormandise, 
 As thou hast done with me : — What, Jessica 1 — - 
 And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ; — 
 Why, Jessica, I say ! 
 Laun. Why, Jessica 1 
 
 Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call. 
 Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me that I 
 could do nothing without bidding. 
 
 Enter Jessica, 
 
 Jes. Call you ? what is your will ? lo 
 
 Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica : 
 
 There are my keys. But wherefore should I go ? 
 I am not bid for love ; they flatter me : 
 But yet I '11 go in hate, to feed upon 
 The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, 
 Look to my house. I am right loath to go : 
 There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
 For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 
 
 Laun. I beseech you, sir, go: my young master 
 doth expect your reproach. 20 
 
 39 
 
JLctn. sc.v. THE MERCHANT 
 
 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. What, are there masques ? Hear you me, 
 Jessica : 
 Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum, 
 And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, 30 
 
 Clamber not you up to the casements then. 
 Nor thrust your head into the public street 
 To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces ; 
 But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements : 
 Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
 My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear 
 I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
 But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah ; 
 Say I will come. 
 
 Laun. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at 40 
 window, for all this , 
 There will come a Christian by, 
 Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [£xtf. 
 
 Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha ? 
 Jes. His words were ' Farewell, mistress ; ' nothing 
 else. 
 
 40 
 
OF VENICE Actn. sc. vi. 
 
 Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder ; 
 Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
 More than the wild-cat; drones hive not with 
 
 me; 
 Therefore I part with him ; and part with him 
 To one that I would have him help to waste 50 
 
 His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in : 
 Perhaps I will return immediately : 
 Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you : 
 Fast bind, fast find, 
 A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [£xtt 
 
 Jes. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, 
 I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [JSxif. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 TJte Same. 
 
 Enter Gratiano and Salarino masqued. 
 
 Gra. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 
 
 Desired us to make stand. 
 Salar. His hour is almost past. 
 
 Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, 
 
 For lovers ever run before the clock, 
 Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
 
 To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are 
 wont 
 
 To keep obliged faith unforfeited 1 
 
 41 
 
Actn. sc. vi. THE MERCHANT 
 
 era. That ever holds : who riseth from a feast 
 With that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
 Where is the horse that doth untread again lo 
 
 His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
 That he did pace them first ? All things that 
 
 are, 
 Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
 How like a younker or a prodigal 
 The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
 Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind I 
 How Uke the prodigal doth she return, 
 With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails. 
 Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind 1 
 
 Salar. Here comes Lorenzo : more of this here- 
 after. 20 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long 
 abode ; 
 Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait : 
 When you shall chose to play the thieves for 
 
 wives, 
 I '11 watch as long for you then. Approach ; 
 Here dwells my father Jew. Ho I who 's within ? 
 
 Enter Jessica, above, in hofs clothes. 
 Jes. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty, 
 Albeit I '11 swear that I do know your tongue. 
 42 
 
OF VENICE Aetn. sc.vi. 
 
 Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 
 
 Jes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed, 
 
 For who love I so much ? And now who knows 30 
 
 But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 
 Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that 
 
 thou art. 
 Jes. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains. 
 
 I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, 
 
 For I am much ashamed of my exchange : 
 
 But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
 
 The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 
 
 For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
 
 To see me thus transformed to a boy. 
 Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 40 
 Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ? 
 
 They in themselves, good sooth, are too too 
 light. 
 
 Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love ; 
 
 And I should be obscured. 
 Lor. So are you, sweet. 
 
 Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
 
 But come at once ; 
 
 For the close night doth play the runaway, 
 
 And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 
 Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
 
 With some mo ducats, and be with you straight. 50 
 
 [Exit above. 
 43 
 
Act n. So. vi. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. 
 Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily ; 
 
 For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 
 
 And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 
 
 And true she is, as she hath proved herself ; 
 
 And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true. 
 
 Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 
 
 Enter Jessica below. 
 
 What, art thou come ? On, gentlemen ; away 1 
 Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 
 
 [Exit with Jessica and Salarino. 
 
 Enter Antonio, 
 Ant. Who's there ? 60 
 
 Gra. Signior Antonio 1 
 Ant Fie, fie, Gratlano ; where are all the rest ? 
 
 'Tis nine o'clock : our friends all stay for you. 
 
 No masque to-night : the wind is come about ; 
 
 Bassanio presently will go aboard : 
 
 I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 
 Gra. I am glad on 't : I desire no more delight 
 
 Than to be under sail and gone to-night. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 44 
 
OF VENICE Actn. sc. vu. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 Belmont. A root?i in Portia's house. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia with the Prince 
 of Morocco and their trains. 
 Por. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover 
 The several caskets to this noble prince. 
 Now make your choice. 
 Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears, 
 * Who chooseth me shall gain what many men 
 
 desire ; ' 
 The second, silver, which this promise carries, 
 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 
 
 deserves ; ' 
 This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, 
 ' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he 
 
 hath.' 
 How shall I know if I do choose the right? lo 
 
 Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince ; 
 
 If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
 Il/lor. Some god direct my judgment I Let me see ; 
 I will survey the inscriptions back again. 
 What says this leaden casket ? 
 ' Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he 
 
 hath.' 
 Must give, — for what ? for lead ? hazard for 
 lead? 
 
 45 
 
Act n. sc. vii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 This casket threatens. Men that hazard all 
 
 Do it in hope of fair advantages : 
 
 A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 20 
 
 I '11 then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
 
 What says the silver with her virgin hue ? 
 
 ' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he 
 
 deserves,' 
 As much as he deserves ! Pause there, Moroco, 
 And weigh thy value with an even hand : 
 If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
 Thou dost deserve enough : and yet enough 
 May not extend so far as to the lady : 
 And yet to be afeard of my deserving 
 Were but a weak disabling of myself. 30 
 
 As much as I deserve 1 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 paved in gold ; 
 ' Who chooseth me shall gain what many men 
 
 desire.' 
 Why, that 's the lady ; all the world desires her ; 
 From the four corners of the earth they come, 
 To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint : 40 
 The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
 Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now 
 46 
 
OF VENICE Aetn. sc. vu. 
 
 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 ? 'T were dam- 
 nation 
 
 To think so base a thought : it were too gross 50 
 
 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
 
 Or shall I think in silver she 's immured, 
 
 Being ten times undervalued to tried gold ? 
 
 O sinful thought 1 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 1 60 
 
 Por. There, take it, prince ; and if my form lie 
 there, 
 
 Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket, 
 Mor. ^ O hell 1 what have we here ? 
 
 A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 
 
 There is a written scroll 1 I'll read the writing. 
 
 [Reads'] All that glisters is not gold ; 
 47 
 
Aetn. sc.viii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Often have you heard that told : 
 \ Many a man his life hath sold 
 
 / But my outside to behold : 
 
 Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
 Had you been as wise as bold, 70 
 
 Young in limbs, in judgment old, 
 Your answer had not been inscroll'd : 
 Fare you well ; your suit is cold. 
 Cold, indeed ; and labour lost : 
 Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost 1 
 Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart 
 To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. 
 
 [£xtt with his train. Flourish 0/ cornets. 
 
 Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. 
 Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 
 Enter Salarino and Salanio. 
 
 Safar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail : 
 With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
 And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 
 Salan. The villain Jew with outcries raised the 
 Duke 
 Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 
 Sa/ar. He came too late, the ship was under sail : 
 
 48 
 
OF VENICE Actn. sc. vm. 
 
 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 lo 
 
 They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
 
 Sa/an. I never heard a passion so confused, 
 So strange, outrageous, and so variable. 
 As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
 ' My daughter 1 O my ducats ! O my daughter 1 
 Fled with a Christian ! O my Christian ducats I 
 Justice ! the law I my ducats, and my daughter 1 
 A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats. 
 Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter I 
 And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious 
 
 stones, 2o 
 
 Stolen by my daughter ! Justice 1 find the girl 1 
 She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats 1 ' 
 
 Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him. 
 Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 
 
 Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
 Or he shall pay for this. 
 
 Satar. Marry, well remember'd. 
 
 I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, 
 Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
 The French and English, there miscarried 
 A vessel of our country richly fraught : 30 
 
 I thought upon Antonio when he told me ; 
 49 
 
Act II. sc. via. THE MERCHANT 
 
 And wished in silence that it were not his. 
 
 Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ; 
 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 
 
 Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
 I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : 
 Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
 Of his return : he answer'd, ' Do not so ; 
 Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
 But stay the very riping of the time ; 40 
 
 And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
 Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
 Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts 
 To courtship, and such fair ostents of love 
 As shall conveniently become you there : ' 
 And even 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. 
 
 Salan. I think he only loves the world for him. 50 
 
 I pray thee, let us go and find him out. 
 And quicken his embraced heaviness 
 With some delight or other. 
 
 Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt. 
 
 50 
 
OF VENICE Actn. sax. 
 
 Scene IX. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Enter Nerissa and a Servitor. 
 
 Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee : draw the curtain 
 
 straight : 
 The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, 
 And comes to his election presently. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon^ 
 Portia^ 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 solemnized : 
 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
 You must be gone from hence immediately. 
 
 Ar. I am enjoin 'd by oath to observe three things : 
 First, never to unfold to any one lo 
 
 Which casket 't was 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. 
 
 51 
 
Actn. sax. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Ar. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now 
 
 To my heart's hope ! Gold, silver, and base lead, 20 
 
 * Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' 
 You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 
 
 What says the golden chest ? ha I let me see : 
 
 ' Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' 
 
 What many men desire ! that ' many ' may be meant 
 
 By the fool multitude that choose by show, 
 
 Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach, 
 
 Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, 
 
 Builds in the weather on the outward wall, 
 
 Even in the force and road of casualty. 30 
 
 I will not choose what many men desire, 
 
 Because I will not jump with common spirits, 
 
 And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 
 
 Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ; 
 
 Tell me once more what title thou dost bear : 
 
 * Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves : ' 
 And well said too ; for who shall go about 
 
 To cozen fortune, and be honourable 
 
 Without the stamp of merit ? Let none presume 
 
 To wear an undeserved dignity. 40 
 
 O, that estates, degrees and offices 
 
 Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour 
 
 Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! 
 
 How many then should cover that stand bare 1 
 
 How many be commanded that command 1 
 
 52 
 
OF VENICE Actn. sc. ix. 
 
 How much low peasantry would then be glean'd 
 From the true seed of honour 1 and how much honour 
 Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, 
 To be new-varnish'd 1 Well, but to my choice : 
 ' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' 
 I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, 5 1 
 And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 
 
 [Ife opens the silver casket. 
 Pop. [Aside'] 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 I will read it. 
 How much unlike art thou to Portia I 
 How much unlike my hopes and my deservings I 
 'Who chooseth me shall have as much as he 
 
 deserves.' 
 Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
 Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better ? 60 
 
 Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, 
 
 And of opposed natures. 
 Ar. What is here ? 
 
 [Reads'] The fire seven times tried this : 
 
 Seven times tried that judgment is, 
 That did never choose amiss. 
 Some there be that shadows kiss ; 
 Such have but a shadow's bliss : 
 There be fools alive, I wis, 
 53 
 
Actjj. sc.ix. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Silver'd o'er ; and so was this. 
 
 Take what wife you will to bed, 70 
 
 I will ever be your head : 
 
 So be gone : you are sped. 
 
 Still more fool I shall appear 
 
 By the time I linger here : 
 
 With one fool's head I came to woo, 
 
 But I go away with two. 
 
 Sweet, adieu. I '11 keep my oath. 
 
 Patiently to bear my wroth. 
 
 [Exeunt Arragon and train, 
 Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth. 
 
 O, these deliberate fools I when they do choose, 80 
 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
 Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy. 
 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Where is my lady? 
 
 Por. Here : what would my lord I 
 
 Serr. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
 A young Venetian, one that comes before 
 To signify the approaching of his lord ; 
 From whom he bringeth sensible regreets. 
 To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 90 
 54 
 
OF VENICE Act in. sa. 
 
 Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 
 So likely an ambassador of love : 
 A day in April never came so sweet, 
 To show how costly summer was at hand, 
 As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 
 
 Por. No more, I pray thee : I am half afeard 
 Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, 
 Thou spend 'st such high-day wit in praising him. 
 Come, come, Nerissa ; for I long to see 
 Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. i oo 
 
 Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be 1 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Venice. A Street. 
 
 Enter Salanio and Salarino. 
 
 Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto ? 
 
 SaJar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that 
 Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked 
 on the narrow seas ; the Goodwins, I think 
 they call the place ; a very dangerous flat and 
 fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall 
 ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip 
 Report be an honest woman of her word. 
 
 Satan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that 
 
 55 
 
Actm. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 as ever knapped ginger, or made her neighbors lo 
 believe she wept for the death of a third hus- 
 band. But it is true, without any slips of pro- 
 lixity, or crossing the plain highway of talk, 
 that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio, — 
 O that I had a title good enough to keep his 
 name company I — 
 Salar. Come, the full stop. 
 Salan. Ha 1 what sayest thou ? Why, the end is, 
 
 he hath lost a ship. 
 Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses. 20 
 Salan. Let me say ' amen ' betimes, lest the devil 
 cross my prayer, for here he comes in the 
 likeness of a Jew. 
 
 Enter Shy lock. 
 
 How now, Shylockl what news among the 
 merchants ? 
 
 Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as 
 you, of my daughter's flight. 
 
 Salar. That's certain : I, for my part, knew the 
 tailor that made the wings she flew withal. 
 
 Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the 30 
 bird was fledged ; and then it is the com- 
 plexion of them all to leave the dam. 
 
 Shy. She is damned for it. 
 
 Salar. That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. 
 
 S6 
 
OF VENICE Actni. sa. 
 
 Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel I 
 
 Salan. Out upon it, old carrion 1 rebels it at these 
 years ? 
 
 Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 
 
 Salar. There is more difference between thy 
 flesh and hers than between jet and ivory ; 40 
 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 bank- 
 rupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his 
 head on the Rialto ; a beggar, that was used 
 to come so smug upon the mart ; let him look 
 to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; 
 let him look to his bond : he was wont to lend 50 
 money for a Christian courtesy ; let him look 
 to his bond. 
 
 Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not 
 take his flesh : what's that good for ? 
 
 Shy. To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing 
 else, it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced 
 me, and hindered me half a million ; laughed at 
 my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my 
 nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, 
 heated mine enemies ; and what's his reason ? I 60 
 am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a 
 57 
 
Aetm. Sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, 
 passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with 
 the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, 
 healed by the same means, warmed and cooled 
 by the same winter and summer, as a Christian 
 is ? If you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you 
 tickle us, do we not laugh ? if you poison us, do 
 we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not 
 revenge ? if we are like you in the rest, we will 70 
 resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Chris- 
 tian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a 
 Christian wrong a Jew, what should his suffer- 
 ance be by Christian example ? Why, revenge. 
 The villany you teach me, I will execute ; and 
 it shall go hard but I will better the instruction. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sery. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his 
 house, and desires to speak with you both. 
 Sa/ar. We have been up and down to seek him. 
 
 Enter Tubal. 
 
 Salan. Here comes another of the tribe : a third 80 
 cannot be matched, unless the devil himself 
 turn Jew. [Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant. 
 
 Shy. How now. Tubal I what news from Genoa ? 
 hast thou found my daughter ? 
 
 58 
 
OF VENICE Act 127. Se. i. 
 
 Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but can- 
 not find her. 
 
 Shy- Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond 
 gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort 1 
 The curse never fell upon our nation till now ; 
 I never felt it till now: two thousand ducats 90 
 in that; and other precious, precious jewels. 
 I would my daughter were dead at my foot, 
 and the jewels in her ear ! would she were 
 hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin 1 
 No news of them? Why, so: — and I know 
 not what 's spent in the search : why, thou loss 
 upon loss 1 the thief gone with so much, and so 
 much to find the thief ; and no satisfaction, no 
 revenge : nor no ill luck stirring but what lights 
 on my shoulders ; no sighs but of my breathing ; 100 
 no tears but of my shedding. 
 
 Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too : Antonio, as 
 I heard in Genoa, — 
 
 Shy. What, what, what ? ill luck, ill luck ? 
 
 Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from 
 Tripolis. 
 
 Shy. I thank God, I thank God 1 Is 't true, is 't 
 true? 
 
 Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped 
 the wreck. no 
 
 59 
 
Actm. Sex. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal : good news, good 
 news 1 ha, ha 1 where ? in Genoa ? 
 
 Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in 
 one night fourscore ducats. 
 
 Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me : I shall never 
 see my gold again : fourscore ducats at a sitting 1 
 fourscore ducats 1 
 
 Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in 
 my company to Venice, that swear he cannot 
 choose but break. 120 
 
 Shy. I am very glad of it : I '11 plague him ; I '11 
 torture him : I am glad of it. 
 
 Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had 
 of your daughter for a monkey. 
 
 Shy. Out upon her 1 Thou torturest me, Tubal : 
 it was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when I 
 was a bachelor : I would not have given it for 
 a wilderness of monkeys. 
 
 Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. 
 
 Shy. Nay, that 's true, that 's very true. Go, Tubal, 130 
 fee me an officer ; bespeak him a fortnight 
 before. I will have the heart of him, if he 
 forfeit ; for, were he out of Venice, I can make 
 what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and 
 meet me at our synagogue ; go, good Tubal ; 
 at our synagogue, Tubal [Exeunt 
 
 60 
 
OF VENICE Aetm. Se.a. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Belmont. A room iti Portions house. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa and 
 Attendants. 
 
 For. I pray you, tarry : pause a day or two 
 Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
 I lose your company : therefore forbear awhile. 
 There 's something tells me, but it is not love, 
 I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 
 Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
 But lest you should not understand me well, — 
 And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, — 
 I would detain you here some month or two 
 Before you venture for me. I could teach you lo 
 How to choose right, but I am then forsworn ; 
 So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
 But if you do, you '11 make me wish a sin, 
 That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 
 They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me ; 
 One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 
 Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours. 
 And so all yours 1 O, these naughty times 
 Put bars between the owners and their rights I 
 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 20 
 Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 
 61 
 
Actm. Sea. THE MERCHANT 
 
 I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize the time, 
 
 To eke it and to draw it out in length, 
 
 To stay you from election. 
 Bass. Let me choose ; 
 
 For as I am, I live upon the rack. 
 Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio I then confess 
 
 What treason there is mingled with your love. 
 Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, 
 
 Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love : 
 
 There may as well be amity and life 30 
 
 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 
 PKiF. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, 
 
 Where men enforced do speak any thing. 
 Bass. Promise me life, and I '11 confess the truth. 
 Por. Well then, confess and live. 
 Bass ' Confess,' and * love,' 
 
 Had been the very sum of my confession : 
 
 O happy torment, when my torturer 
 
 Doth teach me answers for deliverance ! 
 
 But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
 Por. Away, then 1 I am lock'd in one of them : 40 
 
 If you do love me, you will find me out. 
 
 Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. 
 
 Let music sound while he doth make his 
 choice ; 
 
 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
 
 Fading in music : that the comparison 
 62 
 
OF VENICE Act m. sc. a. 
 
 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the 
 
 stream, 
 And watery death-bed for him. He may win ; 
 And what is music then ? Then music is 
 Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
 To a new-crowned monarch : such it is 50 
 
 As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 
 And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, 
 With no less presence, but with much more love, 
 Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
 The Virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
 To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice ; 
 The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives. 
 With bleared visages, come forth to view 
 The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules 1 60 
 
 Live thou, I live : with much much more dismay 
 I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. 
 
 Music, while Bassanio comments on the casket to himself. 
 
 Song. 
 
 Tell me where is fancy bred, 
 Or in the heart or in the head ? 
 How begot, how nourished ? 
 
 Reply, reply. 
 It is engender'd in the eyes, 
 
 63 
 
Actiu. Sen. THE MERCHANT 
 
 With gazing fed ; and fancy dies 
 In the cradle where it lies. 
 
 Let us all ring fancy's knell ; 70 
 
 I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 
 All. Ding, dong, bell. 
 
 Bass. So may the outward shows be least them- 
 selves : 
 The world is still deceived with ornament. 
 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
 But, being season'd with a gracious voice, 
 Obscures the show of evil ? In religion, 
 What damned error, but some sober brow 
 Will bless it, and approve it with a text. 
 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 80 
 
 There is no vice so simple but assumes 
 Some mark of virtue on his outward parts : 
 How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
 As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
 The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars ; 
 Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk ; 
 And these assume but valour's excrement 
 -^ . To render them redoubted I Look on beauty. 
 And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight ; 
 Which therein works a miracle in nature, 90 
 
 Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
 So are those crisped snaky golden locks 
 Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 
 64 
 
OF VENICE Act m. sc. a. 
 
 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 loo 
 
 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy 
 
 gold, 
 Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee ; 
 Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 
 'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre 
 
 lead. 
 Which rather threatenest than dost promise 
 
 aught. 
 Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence ; 
 And here choose I : joy be the consequence 1 
 Por. [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair, 
 And shuddering fear, and greed-eyed jealousy I no 
 
 love, be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ; 
 
 In measure rain thy joy ; scant this excess I 
 
 1 feel too much thy blessing : make it less, 
 For fear I surfeit ! 
 
 Bass. What find I here ? 
 
 \Openhig the leaden casket. 
 Fair Portia's counterfeit ! What demi god 
 
 6S 
 
Actm. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 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 120 
 
 hairs 
 The painter plays the spider, and hath woven 
 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men. 
 Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes, — 
 How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
 Methinks it should have power to steal both his 
 And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far 
 The substance of my praise doth wrong this 
 
 shadow 
 In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
 Doth limp behind the substance. Here 's the 
 
 scroll, 
 The continent and summary of my fortune. 130 
 
 [Reads] You that choose not by the view. 
 
 Chance as fair, and choose as true 1 
 
 Since this fortune falls to you, 
 
 Be content and seek no new. 
 
 If you be well pleased with this, 
 
 And hold your fortune for your bliss, 
 
 Turn you where your lady is. 
 
 And claim her with a loving kiss. 
 A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave ; 
 66 
 
OF VENICE Act in. sc. u. 
 
 I come by note, to give and to receive. 140 
 
 Like one of two contending in a prize, 
 That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
 Hearing applause and universal shout. 
 Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 
 Whether those peals of praise be his or no ; 
 So, thricc-fair lady, stand I, even so ; 
 As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
 Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 
 Por. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 
 
 Such as I am : though for myself alone 150 
 
 I would not be ambitious in my wish. 
 To wish myself much better ; yet, for you 
 I would be trebled twenty times myself ; 
 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
 More rich ; 
 
 That only to stand high in your account, 
 I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
 Exceed accoimt ; but the full sum of me 
 Is sum of something, which, to term in gross. 
 Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised; 160 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
 But she may learn ; happier than this, 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
 Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed. 
 As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
 67 
 
Actm. sc.ii. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
 Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 
 Queen o'er myself ; and even now, but now, 170 
 This house, these servants, and this same myself, 
 Are yours, my lord : I give them with this ring ; 
 Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
 Let it presage the ruin of your love. 
 And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 
 
 Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
 Only my blood speaks to you in my veins ; 
 And there is such confusion in my powers, 
 As, after some oration fairly spoke 
 By a beloved prince, there doth appear 180 
 
 Among the buzzing pleased multitude. 
 Where every something, being blent together. 
 Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
 Express'd and not express'd. But when this 
 
 ring 
 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence : 
 O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead 1 
 
 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 1 
 
 Gra. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 190 
 
 I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
 For I am sure you can wish none from me ; 
 68 
 
OF VENICE Actm. sat 
 
 And when your honours mean to solemnize 
 The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
 Even at that time I may be married too. 
 
 Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 
 
 Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. 
 My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
 You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ; 
 You loved, I loved ; for intermission 200 
 
 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
 Your fortune stood upon the casket there, 
 And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; 
 For wooing here until I sweat again, 
 And swearing till my very roof was dry 
 With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, 
 I got a promise of this fair one here 
 To have her love, provided that your fortune 
 Achieved her mistress. 
 
 Por. Is this true, Nerissa ? 
 
 Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. 210 
 
 Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? 
 
 Gra. Yes, faith, my lord. 
 
 Bass. Our feast shall be much honored in your 
 marriage. 
 
 Gra. But who comes here? Lorenzo and his 
 infidel ? 
 What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio ? 
 
 69 
 
Act in. So. a. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a Messenger from 
 Venice. 
 Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; 
 
 If that the youth of my new interest here 
 
 Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, 
 
 I bid my very friends and countrymen, 
 
 Sweet Portia, welcome. 
 Por. So do I, my lord: 220 
 
 They are entirely welcome. 
 Lor. I thank your hohour. For my part, my lord, 
 
 My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
 
 But meeting with Salerio by the way. 
 
 He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 
 
 To come with him along. 
 Sa/er. I did, my lord ; 
 
 And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
 
 Commends him to you. 
 
 [Gives Bassanio a letter. 
 Bass. Ere I ope his letter, 
 
 I pray you tell me how my good friend doth. 
 Sa/er. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 230 
 
 Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
 
 Will show you his estate. 
 Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome. 
 
 Your hand, Salerio : what's the news from 
 Venice ? 
 
 How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 
 70 
 
OF VENICE Actm. sc. u. 
 
 I know he will be glad of our success ; 
 We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 
 Safer. I would you had won the fleece that he 
 
 hath lost. 
 Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same 
 paper, 
 That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek : 240 
 Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the 
 
 world 
 Could turn so much the constitution 
 Of any constant man. What, worse and worse I 
 With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself, 
 And I must freely have the half of anything 
 That this same paper brings you. 
 Bass. O sweet Portia, 
 
 Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words 
 That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady, 
 When I did first impart my love to you, \ 
 
 \ I freely told you all the wealth I had 25)0 
 
 I Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman ; 
 I And then I told you true : and yet, dear lady, 
 Rating myself as 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 engaged myself to a very dear friend, 
 71 
 
Act in. sc.il. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Engaged my friend to his mere enemy, 
 
 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ; 
 
 The paper as the body of my friend, 260 
 
 And every word in it a gaping wound, 
 
 Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio ? 
 
 Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one 
 
 hit? 
 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 
 From Lisbon, Barbary, and India ? 
 And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch 
 Of merchant-marring rocks ? 
 
 Sa/er. 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 270 
 
 A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
 So keen and greedy to confound a man : 
 He plies the Duke at morning and at night, 
 And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 
 If they deny him justice : twenty merchants, 
 The Duke himself, and the magnificoes 
 Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ; 
 But none can drive him from the envious plea 
 Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 
 
 Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear 280 
 To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen. 
 That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
 72 
 
OF VENICE Actm. Sc.u. 
 
 Than twenty times the value of the sum 
 That he did owe him : and I know, my lord, 
 If law, authority and power deny not, 
 It will go hard with poor Antonio. 
 
 Por. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble ? 
 
 Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
 The best-condition 'd and unwearied spirit 
 In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 290 
 
 The ancient 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, 
 Before a friend of this description 
 Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
 First go with me to church and call me wife. 
 And then away to Venice to your friend ; 300 
 
 For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
 With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
 To pay the petty debt twenty times over : 
 When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 
 My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 
 Will live as maids and widows. Come, away I 
 For you shall hence upon your wedding day : 
 Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer : 
 73 
 
Actm. sou. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 
 But let me hear the letter of your friend. 3 1 o 
 
 Bass, [reads'] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all 
 miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is 
 very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit ; and since 
 in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts 
 are cleared between you and I. If I might but 
 see you at my death ! Notwithstanding, use your 
 pleasure : if your love do not persuade you to come, 
 let not my letter. 
 
 Por. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone ! 
 
 Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, 320 
 I will make haste : but, till I come again, 
 No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, 
 
 No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 
 Enter Shylock, Salarino, Antonio, and Gaoler. 
 
 Shy. Gaoler, look to him : tell not me of mercy; 
 
 This is the fool that lent out money gratis : 
 
 Gaoler, look to him. 
 Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 
 
 Shy. I '11 have my bond ; speak not against my bond : 
 
 I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 
 
 Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ; 
 74 
 
OF VENICE Act in. sou. 
 
 But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs: 
 
 The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, 
 
 Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
 
 To come abroad with him at his request. lo 
 
 Ant I pray thee, hear me speak. 
 
 Shy. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : 
 I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
 I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
 To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; 
 I '11 have no speaking : I will have my bond. \Exit. 
 
 Salar. It is the most impenetrable cur 
 That ever kept with men. 
 
 Ant Let him alone : 
 
 I '11 follow him no more with bootless prayers. 20 
 
 He seeks my life ; his reason well I know : 
 
 I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 
 
 Many that have at times made moan to me ; 
 
 Therefore he hates me. 
 
 Salar. I am sure the Duke 
 
 Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 
 
 Ant The Duke cannot deny the course of law : 
 For the commodity that strangers have 
 With us in Venice, if it be denied. 
 Will much impeach the justice of his state ; 
 Since that the trade and profit of the city 30 
 
 Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go : 
 
 75 
 
Actm. sc.iv. THE MERCHANT 
 
 These griefs and losses have so bated me, 
 That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
 To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
 Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 
 To see me pay his debt, and then I care not ! 
 
 [£xeunf. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthasar. 
 
 Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 
 You have a noble and a true conceit 
 Of god-like amity, which appears most strongly 
 In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
 But if you knew to whom you show this honour, 
 How true a gentleman you send relief. 
 How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
 I know you would be prouder of the work 
 Than customary bounty can enforce you. 
 
 Por. I never did repent for doing good, lo 
 
 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, 
 76 
 
OF VENICE Actni. sc.iv. 
 
 Being the bosom lover of my lord, 
 
 Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, 
 
 How little is the cost I have bestow'd 
 
 In purchasing the semblance of my soul 20 
 
 From out the state of hellish misery 1 
 
 This comes too near the praising of myself ; 
 
 Therefore no more of it : hear other things. 
 
 Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
 
 The husbandry and manage of my house 
 
 Until my lord's return : for mine own part, 
 
 I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow 
 
 To live in prayer and contemplation, 
 
 Only attended by Nerissa here, 
 
 Until her husband and my lord's return : 30 
 
 There is a monastery two miles off ; 
 
 And there will we abide. I do desire you 
 
 Not to deny this imposition ; 
 
 The which my love and some necessity 
 
 Now lays upon you. 
 Lor. Madam, with all my heart : 
 
 I shall obey you in all fair commands. 
 Por. My people do already know my mind, 
 
 And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
 
 In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
 
 And so farewell, till we shall meet again. 40 
 
 Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on 
 you I 
 
 77 
 
Act III. sc.iv. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
 For. I thank you for your wish, and am well 
 pleased 
 To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. 
 \Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo. 
 Now, Balthasar, 
 
 As I have ever found thee honest-true. 
 So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, 
 And use thou all the endeavour of a man 
 In speed to Padua : see thou render this 
 Into my cousin's hand. Doctor Bellario ; 50 
 
 And, look, what notes and garments he doth 
 
 give thee, 
 Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed 
 Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 
 Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words. 
 But get thee gone : I shall be there before thee. 
 Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. 
 
 {Exit. 
 For. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand 
 That you yet know not of ; we '11 see our hus- 
 bands 
 Before they think of us. 
 Ner. Shall they see us ? 
 
 For. They shall, Nerissa ; but in such a habit, 60 
 
 That they shall think we are accomplished 
 With that we lack. I '11 hold thee any wager, 
 78 
 
OF VENICE Actm. Sc.iv. 
 
 When we are both accoutred like young men, 
 
 I '11 prove the prettier fellow of the two, 
 
 And wear my dagger with a braver grace, 
 
 And speak between the change of man and boy 
 
 With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps 
 
 Into a manly stride, and speak of frays 
 
 Like a fine bragging youth ; and tell quaint lies. 
 
 How honourable ladies sought my love, 70 
 
 Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 
 
 I could not do withal : then I '11 repent. 
 
 And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them ; 
 
 And twenty of these puny lies I '11 tell. 
 
 That men shall swear I have discontinued school 
 
 Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 
 
 A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
 
 Which I will practice. 
 
 Ner. Why, shall we turn to men ? 
 
 Por. Fie, what a question 's that, 
 
 If thou wert near a lewd interpreter ! 80 
 
 But come, I '11 tell thee all my whole device 
 When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
 At the park-gate ; and therefore haste away. 
 For we must measure twenty miles to-day. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 79 
 
Act in. sc.v. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Scene V. 
 7^e same. A garden. 
 
 Enter Launcelot and Jessica. 
 
 Laun. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the 
 father are to be laid upon the children : 
 therefore, I promise ye, I fear you. I was 
 always plain with you, and so now I speak my 
 agitation of the matter : therefore be of good 
 cheer ; for, truly, I think you are damned. 
 There is but one hope in it that can do you 
 any good : and that is but a kind of bastard 
 hope neither. 
 
 Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee ? i o 
 
 Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father 
 got you not, that you are not the Jew's 
 daughter. 
 
 Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed : so 
 the sins of my mother should be visited upon 
 me. 
 
 Laun. Truly then I fear you are damned both by 
 father and mother : thus when I shun Scylla, 
 your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother : 
 well, you are gone both ways. 20 
 
 Jes. I shall be saved by my husband ; he hath 
 made me a Christian. 
 
 80 
 
OF VENICE Act in. sc v. 
 
 Laun. Truly, the more to blame he : we were 
 Christians enow before ; e'en as many as could 
 well live, one by another. This making of 
 Christians will raise the price of hogs : if we 
 grow all to be pork-eaters we shall not shortly 
 have a rasher on the coals for money. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Jes. I '11 tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say : 
 here he comes. 30 
 
 Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, 
 if you thus get my wife into corners. 
 
 Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: 
 Launcelot and I are out. He tells me flatly 
 there is no mercy for me in heaven, because I 
 am a Jew's daughter : and he says you are no 
 good member of the commonwealth ; for, in 
 converting Jews to Christians, you raise the 
 price of pork. 
 
 Lor. How every fool can play upon the word ! I 40 
 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 I 
 then bid them prepare dinner. 
 81 
 
Actni. sc.v. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Laun. That is done too, sir ; only ' cover ' is the 
 word. 
 
 Lor. Will you cover, then, sir ? 50 
 
 Laun. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty. 
 
 Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion 1 Wilt 
 thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an 
 instant ? I pray thee, understand a plain man 
 in his plain meaning : go to thy fellows ; bid 
 them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we 
 will come in to dinner. 
 
 Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in ; for 
 the meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your com- 
 ing in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours 60 
 and conceits shall govern. [£xtt 
 
 Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited 1 
 The fool hath planted in his memory 
 An army of good words ; and I do know 
 A many fools, that stand in better place, 
 Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
 Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica ? 
 And now, good sweet, say thy opinion. 
 How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife ? 
 
 Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet 70 
 
 The Lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
 For, having such a blessing in his lady. 
 He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ; 
 And if on earth he do not mean it, then 
 82 
 
OF VENICE Act in. sc. v. 
 
 In reason he should never come to heaven. 
 
 Why, if two gods should play some heavenly 
 match 
 
 And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
 
 And Portia one, there must be something else 
 
 Pawn'd with the other ; for the poor rude world 
 
 Hath not her fellow. 
 Lor. Even such a husband 80 
 
 Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 
 Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 
 Lor. I will anon : first, let us go to dinner. 
 Jes. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach. 
 Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk ; 
 
 Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other 
 things 
 
 I shall digest it. 
 Jes. Well, I '11 set you forth. [Exeunf. 
 
 83 
 
Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Venice. A court of justice. 
 
 Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, 
 Gratiano, Salerio, and others. 
 
 Duke. What, is Antonio here ? 
 knt Ready, so please your Grace. 
 Duke. I am sorry for thee : thou art come to an- 
 swer 
 
 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 ob- 
 durate, 
 
 And that no lawful means can carry me 
 
 Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose i 
 
 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. 
 
 84 
 
OF VENICE Act IV. sc.i. 
 
 Safer. He is ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our 
 face. 
 Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
 That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
 To the last hour of act ; and then 't is thought 
 Thou 'It show thy mercy and remorse more 
 
 strange 20 
 
 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, 
 Enow to press a royal merchant down, 
 And pluck commiseration of his state 30 
 
 From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint. 
 From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd 
 To offices of tender courtesy. 
 We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 
 Shy. I have possess 'd your Grace of what I pur- 
 pose ; 
 And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
 
 85 
 
Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
 
 If you deny it, let the danger light 
 
 Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
 
 You '11 ask me, why I rather choose to have 40 
 
 A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive 
 
 Three thousand ducats : I '11 not answer that : 
 
 But, say, it is my humour : is it answer'd ? 
 
 What if my house be troubled with a rat. 
 
 And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats 
 
 To have it baned ? What, are you answer'd yet ? 
 
 Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; 
 
 Some that are mad if they behold a cat ; 
 
 for affection, 
 Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 50 
 
 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 ; 
 
 but of force 
 Must yield to such inevitable shame 
 As to offend, himself being offended ; 
 So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 
 More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 
 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 60 
 
 A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 
 Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 
 
 86 
 
OF VENICE Act IV. so. 
 
 To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 
 
 Sfiy. 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 : 
 You may as well go stand upon the beach, 70 
 
 And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
 You may as well use question with the wolf, 
 Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
 You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
 To wag their high tops and to make no noise, 
 When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven ; 
 You may as well do 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 farther means, 80 
 
 But with all brief and plain conveniency 
 Let me have judgment and the Jew his will. 
 
 Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 
 
 Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
 Were in six parts and every part a ducat, 
 I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. 
 87 
 
Act IV. Sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering 
 
 none ? 
 Shy. What judgment shall I dread, doing no 
 wrong? 
 You have among you many a purchased slave, 
 Which, like your asses and your dogs and 
 
 mules, 90 
 
 You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
 Because you bought them : shall I say to you, 
 Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
 Why sweat they under burthens ? let their beds 
 Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
 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 ; 't is mine and I will have it. 
 If you deny me, fie upon your law 1 1 00 
 
 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. 
 
 Sa/ar. My lord, here stays without 
 
 A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
 New come from Padua. 
 
 Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 
 
 88 
 
OF VENICE Actnr. sc.i. 
 
 Bass. Good cheer, Antonio I What, man, courage 
 
 yet 1 no 
 
 The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and 
 
 all, 
 Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 
 Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
 
 Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit 
 Drops earliest to the ground ; and so let me : 
 You cannot better be employ 'd, Bassanio, 
 Than to live still, and write mine epitaph. 
 
 Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer'' s clerk. 
 
 Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 
 Ner. From both my lord. Bellario greets your 
 Grace. 
 
 [Presenting a letter. 
 Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly ? 120 
 Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt 
 
 there. 
 Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
 Thou makest thy knife keen ; but no metal can, 
 No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keen- 
 ness 
 Of thy sharp env}'. Can no prayers pierce thee ? 
 Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. 
 Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog 1 
 And for thy life let justice be accused. 
 89 
 
Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Thou almost makest me waver in my faith, 
 
 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 130 
 
 That souls of animals infuse themselves 
 
 Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 
 
 Govern 'd a wolf who, hang'd for human 
 
 slaughter, 
 Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
 And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam. 
 Infused itself in thee ; for thy desires 
 Are woolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous. 
 
 Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond. 
 Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud : 
 Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 140 
 
 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 ? 
 
 /fer. 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] Your Grace shall understand that at 
 the receipt of your letter I am very sick : but in the 150 
 instant that your messenger came, in loving visita- 
 tion was with me a young doctor of Rome ; his 
 name is Balthasar. J acquainted him with the 
 90 
 
OF VENICE Act IV. sc.i. 
 
 cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio 
 the merchant: we turned o'er many books together : 
 he is furnished with my opinion; which, bettered 
 with his own learning, — the greatness whereof 
 I cannot enough comtnend, — comes with him, at 
 my opportunity, to fill up your Grace's request in 
 my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be 1 60 
 no impediment to let him lack a reverend estima- 
 tion ; for I never knew so young a body with so 
 old a head. I leave him to your gracious accep- 
 tance, whose trial shall better publish his com- 
 mendation. 
 Duke. You hear the learn 'd Bellario, what he writes : 
 And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 
 
 Enter Portia for Balthasar. 
 
 Give me your hand. Come you from old 
 
 Bellario ? 
 Por. I did, my lord. 
 Duke. You are welcome: take your place. 
 
 Are you acquainted with the diiference 170 
 
 That holds this present question in the court ? 
 Por. I am informed thoroughly 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. 
 
 91 
 
Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
 Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 
 Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. 
 You stand within his danger, do you not ? 
 
 l^nt. Ay, so he says. 
 
 Por. Do you confess the bond ? i8o 
 
 Ant I do. 
 
 Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. 
 
 Shy. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 
 
 Por. The quality of mercy is not strain 'd, 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; 
 It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
 The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 190 
 
 Whereui 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 200 
 92 
 
OF VENICE Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 The needs 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 I crave the law, 
 
 The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 
 Por. Is he not able to discharge the money ? 
 Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court ; 
 
 Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suffice, 
 
 I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 210 
 
 On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: 
 
 If this will not suffice, it must appear 
 
 That malice bears down truth. And I beseech 
 you. 
 
 Wrest once the law to your authority : 
 
 To do a great right, do a little wrong, 
 
 And curb this cruel devil of his will. 
 Por. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 
 
 Can alter a decree established : 
 
 'T will be recorded for a precedent. 
 
 And many an error, by the same example, 220 
 
 Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 
 Shy. A Daniel come to judgment 1 yea, a Daniel 1 
 O wise young judge, how I do honour thee I 
 Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
 Shy. Here 't is, most reverend doctor, here it is. 
 
 93 
 
Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. Shylock, there 's thrice thy money oflfer'd thee. 
 
 S/iy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven ; 
 Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ? 
 No, not for Venice. 
 
 Por. Why, this bond is forfeit ; 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 230 
 
 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 1 swear 
 There is no power in the tongue of man 240 
 
 To alter me : I stay here on my bond. 
 
 Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
 To give the judgment. 
 
 Por. Why then, thus it is : 
 
 You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
 
 Shy. O noble judge 1 O excellent young man 1 
 
 Por. For the intent and purpose of the law 
 Hath full relation to the penalty, 
 Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. 'T is very true : O wise and upright judge 1 
 How much more elder art thou than thy looks 1 250 
 94 
 
OF VENICE Act IV. sc.L 
 
 Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 
 
 Shy. Ay, his breast : 
 
 So says the bond : — doth it not, noble judge ? — 
 
 ' Nearest his heart : ' those are the very words. 
 Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 
 
 The flesh ? 
 Shy. I have them ready. 
 
 Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your 
 charge, 
 
 To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 
 Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 
 Por. It is not so express'd : but what of that ? 
 
 'T were good you do so much for charity. 260 
 
 Shy. I cannot find it ; 't is not in the bond. 
 Por. You, merchant, have you any thing to say ? 
 Ant. But little : I am arm'd and well prepared. 
 
 Give me your hand, Bassanio : fare you well ! 
 
 Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
 
 For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
 
 Than is her custom : it is still her use 
 
 To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
 
 To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 
 
 An age of poverty, from which lingering penance 270 
 
 Of such misery doth she cut me off. 
 
 Commend me to your honourable wife : 
 
 Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 
 
 Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death ; 
 95 
 
Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 
 
 Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
 
 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 '11 pay it presently with all my heart. 280 
 
 Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
 Which is as dear to me as life itself ; 
 But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
 Are not with me esteem'd above thy life : 
 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
 Here to this devil, to deliver you. 
 
 Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for 
 that, 
 If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 
 
 Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love : 
 
 I would she were in heaven, so she could 290 
 
 Entreat some power to change this currish 
 Jew. 
 
 Ner. 'T is well you offer it behind her back ; 
 The wish would make else an unquiet house. 
 
 Shy. These be the Christian husbands. I have a 
 daughter ; 
 Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
 Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! 
 
 \^Aside. 
 We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
 96 
 
OF VENICE Act IV. sc.i. 
 
 For. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is 
 thine : 
 The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 
 
 Shy. Most rightful judge I 300 
 
 Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast : 
 The law allows it, and the court awards it. 
 
 Shy. Most learned judge I A sentence ! Come, 
 prepare 1 
 
 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 310 
 
 Unto the state of Venice. 
 
 Gra. O upright judge 1 Mark, Jew : O learned 
 judge 1 
 
 Shy. Is that the law ? 
 
 Por. Thyself shalt see the act : 
 
 For, as thou urgest justice, be assured 
 Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. 
 
 Gra. O learned judge ! Mark, Jew : a learned 
 judge 1 
 
 Shy. I take this offer, then : pay the bond thrice, 
 And let the Christian go. 
 
 Bass. Here is the money, 
 
 97 
 
Act IV. sc.i, THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. Soft I 
 
 The Jew shall have all justice; soft I no haste: 320 
 He shall have nothing but the penalty. 
 
 Gra. O Jew 1 an upright judge, a learned judge I 
 
 Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
 Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more 
 But just a pound of flesh : if thou cut'st more 
 Or less than a just pound, be it but so much 
 As makes it light or heavy in the substance, 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 
 But in the estimation of a hair, 330 
 
 Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. 
 
 Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew 1 
 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. 
 
 Por. He hath refused it in the open court : 
 He shall have merely justice and his bond. 
 
 Gra. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel 1 
 
 I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 340 
 
 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 '11 stay no longer question. 
 98 
 
OF VENICE Act IV. sc.i. 
 
 Por. Tarry, Jew : 
 
 The law hath yet another hold on you. 
 
 It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
 
 If it be proved against an alien 
 
 That by direct or indirect attempts 
 
 He seek the life of any citizen, 350 
 
 The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
 
 Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 
 
 Comes to the privy coffer of the state ; 
 
 And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
 
 Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
 
 In which predicament, I say, thou stand 'st; 
 
 For it appears, by manifest proceeding. 
 
 That indirectly, and directly too. 
 
 Thou hast contrived against the very life 
 
 Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd 360 
 
 The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 
 
 Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke, 
 Gra. Beg thatthou mayst have leave to hang thyself : 
 
 And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
 
 Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 
 
 Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's 
 charge. 
 Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our 
 spirits, 
 
 I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 
 
 For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 
 
 99 
 
 LofC. 
 
Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 The other half comes to the general state, 370 
 
 Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 
 Por. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 
 Shy. Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that : 
 
 You take my house, when you do take the prop 
 
 That doth sustain my house ; you take my life, 
 
 When you do take the means whereby I live. 
 Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? 
 Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake. 
 Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court 
 
 To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 380 
 
 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. 
 Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 390 
 
 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. 
 
OF VENICE Act IV. sc. i. 
 
 And I will sign it. 
 Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 
 
 Gra. In christening shalt thou have two godfathers : 
 
 Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten 
 more, 
 
 To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 
 
 [£xif Shylock. 
 Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 400 
 Por. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon : 
 
 I must away this night toward Padua, 
 
 And it is meet I presently set forth. 
 Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 
 
 Antonio, gratify this gentleman. 
 
 For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 
 
 \_Exeunt Duke and his train. 
 Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
 
 Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
 
 Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof, 
 
 Three thousands ducats, due unto the Jew, 410 
 
 We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 
 Ant And stand indebted, over and above, 
 
 In love and service to you evermore. 
 Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied ; 
 
 And I, delivering you, am satisfied. 
 
 And therein do account myself well paid : 
 
 My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
 
 I pray you, know me when we meet again : 
 
 lOI 
 
Act IV. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 
 Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further: 420 
 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 will yield. 
 Give me your gloves, I '11 wear them for your sake ; 
 
 [To Ant. 
 And, for your love, I '11 take this ring from you : 
 
 [To Bass. 
 Do not draw back your hand; I '11 take no 
 
 more; 
 And you in love shall not deny me this. 
 Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle ! 
 
 I will not shame myself to give you this. 430 
 
 Por. I will have nothing else but only this ; 
 
 And now methinks I have a mind to it. 
 Bass. There 's more depends on this than on the 
 value. 
 The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 
 And find it out by proclamation : 
 Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 
 Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers : 
 
 You taught me first to beg ; and now methinks 
 You teach me how a beggar should be 
 answer'd. 
 Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; 440 
 loa 
 
OF VENICE Act nr. sc. a. 
 
 And when she put it on, she made me vow 
 That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. 
 
 Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their 
 gifts. 
 An if your wife be not a mad-woman, 
 And know how well I have deserved the ring, 
 She would not hold out enemy for ever, 
 For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you 1 
 
 [^Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Ant My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring ; 
 Let his deservings and my love withal 
 Be valued 'gainst your wife's conunandment. 450 
 
 Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; 
 
 Give him the ring ; and bring him, if thou canst, 
 Unto Antonio's house : away 1 make haste. 
 
 [£xtf Gratiano. 
 Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
 And in the morning early will we both 
 Fly toward Belmont : come, Antonio. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 The same. A street. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this 
 deed 
 And let him sign it : we '11 away to-night 
 103 
 
Actnr. Sen. THE MERCHANT 
 
 And be a day before our husbands home : 
 This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Cra. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en : 
 
 My Lord Bassanio upon more advice 
 
 Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat 
 
 Your company at dinner. 
 Por. That cannot be : 
 
 His ring I do accept most thankfully ; 
 
 And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore, lo 
 
 I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. 
 Gra. That will I do. 
 Ner. Sir, I would speak with you. 
 
 I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, 
 
 [Aside to Portia. 
 
 Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. 
 Por. [Aside to Ner."] Thou mayst, I warrant. We 
 shall have old swearing 
 
 That they did give the rings away to men ; 
 
 But we'll outface them, and outswear them too. 
 
 [Aloud.'] Away ! make haste : thou know'st 
 where I will tarry. 
 Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this 
 house ? [Exeunt. 
 
 104 
 
OF VENICE • Actv. sc.i. 
 
 ACT FIFTH. Scene I. 
 
 Belmont. Avenue to Portions house. 
 
 Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 
 
 Lor. The moon shines bright : in such a night as 
 this, 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
 And they did make no noise, in such a night 
 Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls, 
 And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
 Where Cressid lay that night. 
 
 Jes. In such a night 
 
 Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew. 
 And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
 And ran dismay'd away. 
 
 Lor. In such a night 
 
 Stood Dido with a willow in her hand lo 
 
 Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love 
 To come again to Carthage. 
 
 Jes. 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, 
 105 
 
^ot V. sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 
 
 As far as Belmont. 
 Jes. In such a night 
 
 Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, 
 
 Stealing her soul with many vows of faith 
 
 And ne'er a true one. 
 Lor. In such a night 20 
 
 Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
 
 Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 
 Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come ; 
 
 But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 
 
 Enter Stephana. 
 
 Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ? 
 
 Stepb. A friend. "^ 
 
 Lor. A friend ? what friend ? your name, I pray 
 you, friend ? 
 
 Steph. Stephano is my name ; and I bring word 
 My mistress will before the break of day 
 Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 30 
 
 By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
 For happy wedlock hours. 
 
 Lor. Who comes with her ? 
 
 Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid. 
 I pray you, is my master yet return'd ? 
 
 Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. 
 But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
 106 
 
OF VENICE Act V. sc. L 
 
 And ceremoniously let us prepare 
 
 Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 
 
 Enter Launcelot. 
 
 Laun. Sola, sola ! wo ha, ho I sola, sola 1 
 
 Lor. Who calls ? 40 
 
 Laun. Sola 1 did you see Master Lorenzo ? 
 
 Master Lorenzo, sola, sola I 
 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 ? 50 
 
 My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
 Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 
 And bring your music forth into the air. 
 
 [Exit Stephano. 
 How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this 
 
 bank! 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
 107 
 
Actv. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 
 
 There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 60 
 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 
 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; 
 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
 
 But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 
 
 Enter Musicians. 
 
 Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn 1 
 With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 
 And draw her home with music. \Music. 
 
 Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 
 
 Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 70 
 
 For do but note a wild and wanton herd. 
 Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
 Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing 
 
 loud, 
 Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
 If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
 Or any air of music touch their ears, 
 You shall perceive them make a mutual stand. 
 Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 
 By the sv/eet power of music : therefore the poet 
 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and 
 
 floods ; 80 
 
 Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, 
 108 
 
OF VENICE Act V. sc. 1. 
 
 But music for the time doth change his nature. 
 
 The man that hath no music in himself, 
 
 Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils ; j 
 
 The motions of his spirit are dull as night. 
 
 And his affections dark as Erebus: 
 
 Let no such man be trusted/ Mark the music. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. 
 
 How far that little candle throws his beams 1 90 
 
 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
 
 Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the 
 candle. 
 
 Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less: 
 A substitute shines brightly as a king, 
 Until a king be by ; and then his state 
 Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
 Into the main of waters. Music 1 Hark I 
 
 Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. 
 
 Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect : 
 
 Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. 100 
 
 Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 
 
 Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, 
 When neither is attended ; and I think 
 The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
 
 109 
 
Actv. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 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 I 
 
 Peace, ho 1 the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
 
 And would not be awaked. [Music ceases. 
 
 Lor. That is the voice, no 
 
 Or I am much deceived, of Portia. 
 For. He knows me as the blind man knows the 
 cuckoo, 
 
 By the bad voice. 
 Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 
 
 For. We have been praying for our husbands' 
 healths. 
 
 Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
 
 Are they return'd ? 
 Lor. Madam, they are not yet ; 
 
 But there is come a messenger before, 
 
 To signify their coming. 
 For. Go in, Nerissa; 
 
 Give order to my servants that they take 
 
 No note at all of our being absent hence ; 120 
 
 Nor you, Lorenzo ; Jessica, nor you. 
 
 \_A tucket sounds. 
 Lor. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet : 
 
 We are no tell-tales, madame ; fear you not. 
 no 
 
OF VENICE Act V. sc. i. 
 
 Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick ; 
 It looks a little paler : 't is a day, 
 Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers. 
 
 Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
 If you would walk in absence of the sun. 
 
 Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 
 
 For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 130 
 And never be Bassanio so for me : 
 But God sort all I You are welcome home, my 
 lord. 
 
 Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my 
 friend. 
 This is the man, this is Antonio, 
 To whom I am so infinitely bound. 
 
 Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, 
 For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 
 
 Ant No more than I am well acquitted of. 
 
 Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 
 
 It must appear in other ways than words, 140 
 
 Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 
 
 Gra. [To Nerissd] By yonder moon I swear you 
 do me wrong ; 
 In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk : 
 Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, 
 Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. 
 
Act V. sc. i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 Por. A quarrel, ho, already I what 's the matter ? 
 
 Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
 That she did give me, whose posy was 
 For all the world like cutler's poetry 
 Upon a knife, ' Love me, and leave me not.' 150 
 
 Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value ? 
 You swore to me, when I did give it you. 
 That you would wear it till your hour of death, 
 And that it should lie with you in your grave : 
 Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, 
 You should have been respective, and have 
 
 kept it. 
 Gave it a judge's clerk I no, God 's my judge, 
 The clerk will ne'er wear hair on 's face that 
 had it. 
 
 Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. 
 
 lifer. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 160 
 
 Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
 A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy. 
 No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, 
 A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee : 
 I could not for my heart deny it him. 
 
 For. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, 
 To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
 A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger 
 And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
 I gave my love a ring, and nade him swear 170 
 112 
 
OF VENICE Act V. sc. i. 
 
 Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
 I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it 
 Nor pluck it from his finger for the wealth 
 That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
 You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief : 
 An 't were to me, I should be mad at it. 
 
 Bass. [Asiue] Why, I were best to cut my left 
 hand off, 
 And swear I lost the ring defending it. 
 
 Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
 
 Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed i8o 
 
 Deserved it too ; and then the boy, his clerk, 
 That took some pains in writing, he begg'd 
 
 mine : 
 And neither man nor master would take aught 
 But the two rings. 
 
 Por. What ring gave you, my lord ? 
 
 Not that, I hope, which you received of me. 
 
 Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
 I would deny it ; but you see my finger 
 Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. 
 
 Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
 
 By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 190 
 
 Until I see the ring. 
 
 f/er. Nor I in yours 
 
 Till I again see mine. 
 
 Bass. Sweet Portia, 
 
 113 
 
Actv. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
 If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
 And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
 And how unwillingly I left the ring. 
 When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
 You would abate the strength of your dis- 
 pleasure. 
 
 Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring. 
 
 Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 200 
 
 Or your own honour to contain the ring, 
 
 You would not then have parted with the ring. 
 
 What man is there so much unreasonable, 
 
 If you had pleased to have defended it 
 
 With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
 
 To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
 
 Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 
 
 I '11 die for 't but some woman had the ring. 
 
 Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul. 
 
 No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 210 
 
 Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, 
 
 And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him, 
 
 And suffer'd him to go displeased away ; 
 
 Even he that did uphold the very life 
 
 Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet 
 
 lady? 
 I was enforced to send it after him ; 
 I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 
 114 
 
OF VENICE Actv. sc.i. 
 
 My honour would not let ingratitude 
 
 So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady ; 
 
 For, by these blessed candles of the night, 220 
 
 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 house, 
 
 Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, 
 
 And that which you did swear to keep for me. 
 Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 
 Por. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome not- 
 withstanding. 
 Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong ; 
 
 And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
 
 I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 230 
 
 Wherein I see myself, — 
 Por. Mark you but that 1 
 
 In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ; 
 
 In each eye, one : swear by your double self. 
 
 And there 's an oath of credit. 
 Bass. Nay, but hear me : 
 
 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, 
 IIS 
 
Actv. sc.i. THE MERCHANT 
 
 My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 240 
 
 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 1 
 
 Por. I had it of him : pardon me, Bassanio. 
 
 filer. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways 
 In summer, where the ways are fair enough. 
 
 Por. You are all amazed : 250 
 
 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 in store for you 
 Than you expect : unseal this letter soon •, 
 There you shall find three of your argosies 260 
 
 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 ? 
 
 116 
 
OF VENICE Act V. sc. L 
 
 Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold? 
 
 Ner. Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, 
 Unless he live until he be a man. 
 
 Bass, Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow : 
 
 Ant Sweet lady, you have given me life and living ; 
 For here I read for certain that my ships 270 
 
 Are safely come to road. 
 
 Por. How now, Lorenzo 1 
 
 My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 
 
 Ner. Ay, and I '11 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 am sure you are not satisfied 
 Of these events at full. Let us go in ; 280 
 
 And charge us there upon inter'gatories, 
 And we will answer all things faithfully. 
 
 Gra. Let it be so : the first inter'gatory 
 That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is. 
 Whether till the next night she had rather stay, 
 Or go to bed now, being two hours to day : 
 Well, while I live I '11 fear no other thing 
 So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [^Exeunt. 
 
 117 
 
NOTES. 
 
 The Merchant of Venice was first printed in 1600, when two 
 editions were published, bearing the following title pages : 
 
 I. ''The excellent history of the Merchant of Venice. With 
 the extreme cruelty of Shylock, the Jew, towards the said Mer- 
 chant, in cutting a just pound of his flesh. And the obtaining of 
 Portia, by the choyse of three caskets. Written by William 
 Shakespeare. Printed by J. Roberts, 1 600." 
 
 This edition, which is known as the first quarto,was registered on 
 July 22d, 1598, with the following proviso, " that it be not printed 
 by the said James Roberts or any other whatsoever without lycence 
 first had from the Right Honorable the Lord Chamberlin." 
 
 II. " The most excellent Historie of the Merchant of Venice. 
 With the extreme cruelty of Shylock, the Jew, toward the said 
 merchant, in cutting a just pound of his flesh : and the obtaining 
 of Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it hath been divers 
 times acted by the Lord Chamberlin his servants. Written by 
 Wilham Shakespeare. At London. Printed by J. R. for Thomas 
 Hayes, and are to be sold in Paul's Church Yard, at the sign of 
 the Greene Dragon. 1600." 
 
 This quarto, the second, was entered in the stationer's register 
 
 on the 28th of October, 1600. The J. R. of the second quarto 
 
 are probably the initials of the printer of the first quarto. The 
 
 two editions are not printed in the same type, however, and it is 
 
 119 
 
Act I. sc.L NOTES 
 
 evident from their textual disagreements that they were printed 
 from different copies of the author's manuscript. 
 
 A reprint of the second quarto appeared in 1837, with a list 
 of the actors' names. A fourth quarto, differing from the third 
 only in the title-page, was published in 1652, and was probably 
 brought out (this is the suggestion of Professor Hales) to deepen 
 the bitter resentment with which the proposed readmission of 
 the Jews into England was opposed by a great number of Eng- 
 lish people. 
 
 In 1623 was published the first Folio Edition. The text of 
 this is, in the main, the same as that of the second quarto, with 
 a few changes, the most notable being that of " the Scottish 
 Lord" into "the other Lord," evidently out of respect to James 
 the First, who was then reigning. 
 
 An abortion called " The Jew of Venice," by George Gran- 
 ville, Viscount Lansdowne, appeared in 1701. It seems to have 
 won some popularity, for it was acted from 1701 until 1741, when 
 Maclin's Shylock, presented at Drury Lane in 1741, put an erd 
 to Lansdowne's freak, and brought again before the public the 
 work of Shakespeare undefiled. 
 
 The best and most complete edition of the Merchant is the 
 work of Horace Howard Furness : The Variorum Shakespeare ; 
 Lippincott, 1892. 
 
 ACT I. Scene I. 
 
 9 This passage is a good example of Shakespeare's sensitive- 
 to ness to the kinship of words, and the harmonious rela- 
 
 14. tionship of ideas. What a happy resemblance there is 
 
 between " portly sails " and " rich burghers " 1 Portly 
 because of the wind, which makes the sails round and 
 stout, like the stomach of many a well-fed, prosperous 
 citizen. 
 
NOTES Act I. sc.i. 
 
 13. Curt'sy : The wash from the larger vessels would naturally 
 
 set the " petty traffickers " to bobbing up and down, as 
 if really courtesying. 
 
 14. Woven wiugs : " The term wings applied to the sails of 
 
 vessels is of great antiquity, and is found in classical 
 writers." — Halliv\^ell 
 
 18. Sits : Used in the present tense to make the description 
 more vivid. 
 
 25. Hour-glass : " Clocks and watches being then (in Shake- 
 speare's time) but rarely in use, it was thought fit to 
 prescribe the length of the sermons of the reformist of 
 that time to an hour, that is, the run of an hour-glass." 
 Notice how the thought of the sandy hour-glass, suggest- 
 ing shallows and flats, leads Salarino to think of the holy 
 edifice of stone, which, in turn, reminds him of dangerous 
 rocks. HaJliwell remarks that in Shakespeare's day an 
 hour-glass was fixed on an iron stand near every pulpit. 
 
 35. Worth this: It would seem that Shakespeare meant "this " 
 to include, by an expressive gesture, all the riches of 
 the vessel. 
 
 56. Nestor : The oldest of the Greek heroes in the Iliad. As 
 he was also the wisest and gravest, his laughing at a 
 jest would be sufiicient proof of its excellence. 
 
 80. Old Wrinkles : Gratiano would have merriment, rather 
 than old age, draw wrinkles on his face. In laughing 
 heartily the countenance is, naturally, somewhat dis- 
 torted ; and it is worth while observing that the original 
 sense of wrinkle is, " a little twist," wrinkle being a 
 diminutive of Anglo Saxon wringan, to wring, hence, to 
 distort. Compare 
 
 some Dick, that smiles his cheek in years. 
 
 Love's Labour's Lost, V. ii. 465. 
 121 
 
Act I. sc.i. NOTES 
 
 80 With Mirth — peevish. Bucknill remarks that " in this 
 to whole passage the intimate connection between body 
 
 86. and mind is sketched with exact physiological truth," 
 
 and that these are " unquestionably medical thoughts." 
 We may be permitted to doubt whether, in causing Gra- 
 tiano to speak thus, the poet's thoughts were " medical." 
 Gratiano speaks as a keen observer of men, not as a 
 student of physiology. 
 
 89. Mantle : " Mantle " would serve of itself to describe this 
 
 sort of visage, but " cream " makes a happy tautology, 
 giving, as it does, a picture perfectly descriptive of the 
 sort of impostors that Gratiano ridicules. 
 
 90. Wilfull Stillness : Voluntary silence. Some say " obsti- 
 
 nate silence," but obstinate implies resistance to some 
 external agent, whereas " willful " is here used in its 
 literal sense of " volition on one's own part," the silence 
 being entertained for the purpose of appearing wise. 
 
 93. As who : as, or like, one who should say. 
 
 93. I am Sir Oracle : The early Folios read, " I am, sir, an 
 oracle." 
 
 There are reasons for thinking " Sir Oracle " better: 
 1st, because it is more vain and humorously pompous ; 
 2d, because it refers, not to an individual, but to a class. 
 Furness thinks that " this very pomposity gives a disa- 
 greeable tone." True, and therefore " Sir Oracle " is 
 more fitting, as the persons whom Gratiano speaks of 
 are exceedingly offensive. 
 
 98. Would : Supply the nominative " they," after *' speak." 
 
 98. Damn : Some people are thought to be wise because of 
 their silence, but when they do speak they prove them- 
 selves so stupid that their hearers can hardly help call- 
 ing them "fools," and so place themselves in danger 
 
NOTES Act I. sc.i. 
 
 of the punishment set forth in the Gospels (Matt. 
 
 V. 22). 
 
 124. Make moan to be abridged : Complain of my straitened 
 circumstances. There are many instances in Middle and 
 early Modern English of this use of the gerund for the 
 infinitive. Comp., 
 
 "Wythoui to make (i.e. making) any noyse." 
 
 — Caxton, Aymon, 78, 24. 
 Too proud to be so valiant, i.e., of being so valiant. 
 
 — Coriolanus, III. i. 2. 
 See Abbott, " Shakespearian Grammar," § 356. Also 
 
 Kellner's " Historical Outlines of English Syntax," 
 
 § 397. Comp. also IV., i. 431 of the present play. 
 
 I will not shame myself to give you this, i.e. by giving,t\.c. 
 135. Within the eye of Honor : Within honor's bounds, — " that 
 
 is, within the limits of that which can be regarded as 
 
 honorable." — Clarendon. 
 139. The self same flight: With exactly the same aim and 
 
 elevation. — Halliwell. 
 142. Childhood proof : The experience of childhood. Comp., — 
 
 That love, so gentle in his view, should be so tyranous 
 and rough in proof. 
 
 — Romeo and Juliet, I. i. 176. 
 Also, 
 
 What my love is, proof hath made you know. 
 
 — Hamlet, III. ii. 179. 
 
 In Shakespeare the first of two nouns is often the geni- 
 tive used adjectively. In this case " childhood " sets a 
 limit upon the experience, and denotes the quality or 
 worth of it. 
 169. Colchos : (See gloss.) 
 
 123 
 
Act I. sc. u. NOTES 
 
 173, presages: The relative "which" is omitted, in this case 
 happily so, as toc> nice a regard for grammatical con 
 struction would be out of keeping with Bassanio's 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 175. Thou know'st : Compare this confession with his haughty 
 reply to Salarino concerning his merchandise (41, 45 of 
 the present scene). 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 I. aweary: The prefix a in this word is really a preposition, 
 and in this instance is used to denote state, or ccuidi- 
 tion. Comp., a-bed, a-board, a-shore, afoot, a-float, 
 a-live, etc. In all these words, the prefix a is the modern 
 form of the Old English " on," " an." 
 
 3. You would be : We can easily understand, from Nerissa's 
 first speech, with its good sense and happy epigrams, 
 why the relation between her and Portia is more like 
 that of two friends than of maid and mistress. 
 
 23. reasoning : Debating. Portia seems to think that the 
 argument does not apply in her case, since even were 
 she inclined to skip, in the madness of her youth, over 
 the meshes of good counsel, she could not do so, being 
 hedged in by the will of her dead father. Chaucer also 
 has reason in the sense of opinion ; 
 
 '■'■His reasons he spak ful solempettly.'''' 
 
 Cant. Tales, 1. 274. 
 
 40. I pray thee : Nerissa says " you ; " Portia says " thee." 
 Thou was the pronoun used by a superior to a servant, 
 but it was also used, as in this instance, in affectionate 
 address. It is so employed to-day in European countries. 
 
 44. Neapolitan prince: Portia says of him, "that's a colt in- 
 deed," and it may be worthy of remark that in Shake- 
 124 
 
NOTES Acti. sc.iL 
 
 speare 's time the Neapolitans were famous for their skill 
 in horsemanship, — but, of course, " colt," in this in- 
 stance, means a wild, riotous youngster. 
 
 47. Appropriation : He makes the abihty to shoe his own horse 
 an excellent addition to his other talents. 
 
 53. Weeping Philosopher : Heraclitus of Ephesus, misnamed 
 the " weeping phOosopher," for his views of life, though 
 sober, were not without great truth and nobility. The 
 influence of his philosophy has been felt in every age, 
 and is still operative. 
 
 55. had rather: Sooner, the comparative of A. S. hrathe, soon, 
 early. Comp., 
 
 the rathe primrose. 
 
 Milton, Lycidas. 
 
 58. by the French Lord : The original meaning of " by," as 
 here, is " near "" about," "concerning." We still use 
 it in this sense when we say that " gold-bug," for in- 
 stance, is a by-word for an advocate of the gold stan- 
 dard, that is, a direct verbal way of making known his 
 principles, in the sense of coming " near " to them. 
 Comp. also, by-name ; but not by-law, the by in this 
 latter word being, not a preposition, but a noun, — 
 Scand. by, town, village. 
 
 63. better bad : That is, worse. Better is here an intensative, 
 without the usual implication of goodness. 
 
 73. say to: "Portia playfully uses the phrase 'say to ' in a 
 different sense from that Nerissa meant." — Clarendon. 
 
 76. come into court : That is, " you will witness the fact that I 
 have very little English." 
 
 83. Scottish : The Folios read, " other lord," " other " having 
 been here substituted for Scottish to avoid giving of- 
 fense to the countrymen of King James I. 
 125 
 
Act I. So. ii. NOTES 
 
 88. Frenchman : " Alluding to the constant assistance, or 
 promise of assistance, that the French gave the Scots in 
 their quarrels with the English." — Warburton. 
 
 104. a deep glass of Khenish : Portia's criticism of the Ger- 
 man, though harsh-seeming, is not lacking either in 
 truth or justice when applied to the Germans of Shake- 
 speare's time. It appears, from all accounts, that the 
 Germans of those days were great topers, people to 
 whom the drinking of alcoholic liquors was a serious 
 business, a national custom, to be observed and prac- 
 ticed with all due reverence and decorum. " In their 
 drinking they (the Germans) use no mirth and little 
 discourse, but sadly ply the businesB, sometimes crying, 
 one to the other, ' seyte f rolich ! ' (be merry) ; (' trink 
 aus I ' (drink out), and as, according to the proverb, 
 every psalm ends in gloria, so every speech of theirs 
 ends in ' Ich trinke euch ' (I drink to you)." — MoRY- 
 son's Itinerary. 
 
 116. Sibylla: The name of several prophetesses renowned in 
 ancient times. Used here, however, as a proper name. 
 The Cumean Sibyl is the one meant. She obtained 
 from Apollo a promise that her years should be as many 
 as the grains of sand she was holding in her hands. — 
 Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book xiv, Fable iii. 
 
 126. It was Bassanio : Portia's assumed indifference does not 
 deceive her clever maid. Nerissa knows how grateful 
 to her mistress must be the name of Bassanio, a scholar 
 and soldier, after the fops and other undesirable suitors ; 
 and she goes on to praise him in a tentative way, slyly 
 calling her eyes foolish, lest Portia should be displeased. 
 
 134. Four strangers : Nerissa has already mentioned six. Fur- 
 ness suggests that in the old play of which Gosson 
 126 
 
NOTES Act 1. sc. Hi. 
 
 makes mention (see the present introduction) there were 
 but four suitors, and that Shakespeare added the Eng- 
 lishman and the Scotchman to please his countrymen. 
 If so, he certainly did not flatter them. Collanz (Temple 
 Edition) says it is " an interesting oversight on the part 
 of the poet," which is probably the correct explanation. 
 
 146 The close of this scene is in Shakespeare's early manner, 
 to such doggerel Hues not being found in his latest plays. 
 
 148. But perhaps this rhyming, as Knight suggests, grows 
 out of the playfulness of the dialogue. Portia's speeches 
 certainly have playfulness in them, but it is a playful- 
 ness somewhat tinged with bitter sarcasm. Nor does 
 the sprightliness of the dialogue, in this instance, spring 
 altogether from Portia's love of humor ; it is rather a 
 veil with which the dignified lady partly conceals and 
 partly shadows forth her chagrin, her gifted, self-suffi- 
 cient nature keeping her, in speaking of her father's 
 will, from bemoaning, or sentimentalizing over, her lot. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 7. may. Used here in its original meaning, can, — A. S. 
 mugan, to be able ; ic tnaeg, I can. Hence "may you " 
 means, " are you willing ? " since the doing of a thing, 
 on the part of one who has the needful power, depends 
 upon his willingness. 
 
 20. Rialto: "The Rialto is at the farthest side of the bridge 
 (of the Rialto) as you come from St. Mark, a most 
 stately building, being the exchange of Venice, where 
 the Venetians and the merchants doe meet twice a day." 
 Coryat's Crudities (quoted in Halliwell). 
 
 22. ships are but boards: It is plain, from the disjointed man- 
 ner of Shylock's talk, that while he is uttering these 
 127 
 
Act I. sc. lu. NOTES 
 
 •words, his mind is fixed on some other matter. Per- 
 haps in making question of Antonio's means, he wishes 
 to conceal his eagerness to get into his power one whom 
 he so intensely hates ; for mark how, after enumerating 
 his objections to lending money to one whose means 
 are in supposition, he concludes abruptly, " The man is, 
 notwithstanding, sufficient." 
 
 28. his bond : Observe the condescension in the words " the 
 man," and " I think I may take his bond." 
 
 42. publican : See St. Luke, xviii. 10-14. The publicans were 
 tax-gatherers, Roman officials who certainly had no need 
 to fawn in collecting tribute from the Jews, a subject 
 race. The allusion is therefore not clear. It may be 
 that Shakespeare used the word in the sense of " poli- 
 tician," as a man dependent upon the favor of the pub- 
 lic for his power, and therefore one given to fawning in 
 the presence of his constituents. Or it may be that 
 " publican " is used in the modern sense, for " inn- 
 keeper," a class of men who were fawning enough in 
 the poet's time. 
 
 44. low simplicity : It is only natural that Shylock should re- 
 gard the generosity of Antonio as " low simplicity," the 
 silliness of a foolish man, one whom the money-lender 
 would dislike as heartily as a miserly clothier would 
 a philanthropist that distributed clothing gratis near 
 his shop. 
 
 53. forgive him : It is not necessary for a man to be a Shylock 
 in order to utter, in the flood of bitter memories which 
 sweeps through the mind of the Jew, this unchristian 
 sentiment. 
 
 70. Methought: The me'xa. methinks is the dative in conjunction 
 with the verb: — thincan, to seem, to appear, =" it 
 128 
 
NOTES Act I. sc. m. 
 
 seems to me." Thought, the Imp. tense of A. S. then- 
 can, to think, was easily mistaken for the past tense of 
 thincan, to seem, and this illogical combination is the 
 result of that false analogy. 
 
 73. Jacob : See Genesis, chap. xxx. 
 
 82. peel'd me : This peculiar use of the pronoun is called, in 
 Latin grammar, " the ethical dative," the dative of ad- 
 vantage. It is to be noticed that Shylock makes the 
 case of Jacob a vindication of his own usury, and that 
 he speaks of the shepherd as though he had peel'd the 
 wands for the purpose of establishing a precedent for 
 Shylock, and for all whose business was to be the mak- 
 ing of barren metal "Dreed. Comp. our idiom : " I 
 bought me a coat " ; "I got me a hat." 
 
 87. thrift is blessing : Shylock loves the character of Jacob, 
 
 admires his clever, shifty ways, his smooth talk, and 
 especially his knack of prospering (thrift being used 
 here to mean prosperity). He also venerates him as 
 the type of man dear to the God of Abram, and he sets 
 forth Jacob's questionable methods as models to be ex- 
 tolled and even imitated. Jacob was dishonest, if you 
 will, but he succeeded, and Jehovah blessed him. Shy- 
 lock is guided, in every thought and action, by the Law 
 — the Hebrew Law, and whatsoever fails to be conso- 
 nant with that is despicable to him. 
 
 88. served for: Shylock takes the story of Jacob literally ; An- 
 
 tonio interprets it differently. He is a renaissance 
 Christian, and between him and the Jew there is fixed a 
 gulf of centuries, principles and sentiments. To Shy- 
 lock, Antonio's charity is " low simplicity " ; to Antonio, 
 Shylock's thrift is sinful usury. 
 96. devil : See Mat. iv., 6, where the devil quotes Psalm xci. 
 129 
 
Act I. Sc. iii. NOTES 
 
 99. falsehood : Not merely untruth, but wickedness in general. 
 
 103. many a time and oft: The actor Henderson, says Boadent, 
 (Memoirs of Mrs. Siddons) used to pause after " time," 
 as if to convey the impression that besides insulting 
 him in the Rialto, Antonio had frequently done so in 
 many places : but, bitterest of all, the haughty Chris- 
 tian merchant had spat upon the proud Jew "in the 
 Rialto," in the presence of the misbelievers, the mock- 
 ers of Israel : " even there where merchants most do 
 congregate " I 
 
 106. with a patient shrug: Comp., 
 
 / learned in Florence how to kiss my hand, 
 Heave up my shoulders when they called me dog, 
 And duck as low as any barefoot friar. 
 
 Marlowe's Jew of Malta. 
 But in comparing Marlowe's lines with Shakespeare's, 
 the student will do well to go beyond textual compari- 
 sons. There is, in the lines above, a hypocrisy never 
 found in Shylock, whose words, 
 
 " Still have I borne it with a patient shrug J^ 
 have in them, considering the abuses heaped upon him, 
 the dignity of a strong man suffering dumbly. In no 
 instance does Barabas reveal any such quality. 
 II4.' void your rheum: Void is no longer an active verb; but 
 how the word deepens the odium cast upon Shylock. 
 Substitute *' Spat out " or " expectorated " and see how 
 the line would be weakened. 
 1 30. a breed for barren metal : In Shakespeare's time money 
 was looked upon as barren, that is, it could not breed, 
 like cattle, nor increase of itself like corn, wheat, etc. 
 Therefore it was considered disgraceful to take interest 
 
 130 
 
NOTES Act I. sc. m. 
 
 on money. So Antonio calls the interest which Shylock 
 receives " a breed," and his principal " barren metal." 
 
 132. Who if he break: "The relative with a supplementary 
 pronoun." Supply " from him," after penalty, and the 
 sense will be clear. 
 
 141. Your single bond: "Single "does not seem to be used 
 here in a legal sense. There is a subtile flattery in 
 these words, the humble Jew making it appear that he 
 regards the unsecured bond of the great Christian mer- 
 chant as all-sufificient. Besides, what need of troubling 
 about other security, this being but " a merry sport " > 
 Irving chuckles forth, rather than speaks, these words, 
 as if to show Antonio that the monstrous condition of 
 the bond is a joke on Shylock's part, and to prove his 
 good-nature in the transaction, as well as to ridicule the 
 idea of taking interest from one with whom he " would 
 be friends." 
 
 146. your fair flesh : " This suggests Shylock's darker, oriental 
 hue." — FuRNESS. 
 
 156. O-others : Is this spoken aside ? or is Shylock playing 
 
 to the part of offended honesty, of outraged generosity ? 
 
 158. He immediately afterwards remonstrates with Bassanio 
 for suspecting in him a bloody desire ; tells Bassanio 
 that the offer is made in friendship, and assumes an 
 indifference as to whether his favor is accepted or not, 
 though in his heart he is longing to have Antonio seal 
 his bond. 
 
 159. Break his day : That is, break his word, fail to redeem 
 
 his bond or pledge. This expression is found also 
 in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, I. i. 158. 
 163. muttons, beefs or goats : We call the living animals 
 cattle, oxen, sheep. When killed and prepared for 
 
Actn. sc.i. NOTES 
 
 market, we call their flesh beef and mutton. Perhaps 
 Shylock uses the Norman-French words to make more 
 distinct the value of mutton, etc., as marketable articles, 
 in contradistinction to human flesh. 
 171. fearful: That is, causing fear. Adjectives in -able, -less, 
 -ive, and -ful, have in Shakespeare an active as well as 
 a passive meaning. Comp., — 
 
 A fear Jul eye thou hast. 
 
 King John, IV. ii. 106. 
 
 Also, 
 
 You have some hideous matter to deliver. 
 When the courtesy of it is so fearful. 
 
 Tw. N., I. v. 222. 
 
 ACT II. Scene I. 
 
 1. Notice, throughout this whole speech, how admirably the 
 figures and sentiments, the somewhat naive boasting 
 and the spirit of romantic chivalry, are suited to the 
 character of this child of the sun. 
 
 7. reddest : " To understand how the tawny prince, whose 
 savage dignity is very well supported, means to recom- 
 mend himself by this challenge, it must be remembered 
 that red blood is a traditionary sign of courage. Thus 
 Macbeth calls one of his frighted soldiers ' a lily-livered 
 boy ; ' again, in this play, cowards are said to have 
 livers white as milk ; and an effeminate and timorous 
 man is termed a milksop." — Sam. Johnson. 
 
 9. fear'd : Made afraid. This interchange of transitive and 
 intransitive verbs is common in English writers from 
 the earliest times, Comp., — 
 
 132 
 
NOTES ^otn- sc.i. 
 
 To you I am bound for life and education : 
 My life and education both do learn me 
 How to respect you. 
 
 Oth., I. iii. 183. 
 Also, 
 
 Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they., 
 
 Might in the palace perish Margaret. 
 
 Henry VI. (Part II.), III. ii. 100. 
 
 25. Sophy: A title given to the Emperor of Persia. The 
 
 original signification of the word was " wise," " learned." 
 
 26. Sultan Solyman : Probably a reference to Solyman the 
 
 Magnificent. For an account of this ruler see En- 
 cyclopaedia Britannica, under " Turkey." 
 
 3a. Hercules and Lichas : Lichas was the servant of Hercules, 
 who brought him the poisoned shirt from Deianira. 
 See the story in Ovid's Metamorphose, Book ix., 142- 
 175 (Bohn Library). Notice therein that Hercules, in 
 dying, recounts his brave deeds, and bitterly asks 
 whether his life, so great and so rich in wonderful 
 exploits, has been preserved for an end so unworthy. 
 Ovid appears to have been a favorite with Shakespeare, 
 as he has been with a great number of poets and painters 
 from the thirteenth century, when his works became gen- 
 erally known, almost to the present time. There is, 
 indeed, no single author of antiquity whose works have 
 furnished so many subjects to poets, painters and 
 sculptors as the writings of Ovid. 
 
 47. blest or cursed'st : Most blessed, etc. Wherever brevity 
 was required, or wherever a metrical exigency com- 
 pelled, Shakespeare never hesitated to sacrifice the 
 rules of grammar to force, directness, or beauty of 
 phrase. To insist too much upon ellipsisi or to explain 
 
 »33 
 
Act n. sc. a. NOTES 
 
 every irregularity of Shakespeare's language on gram- 
 matical grounds, is frequently apt to be misleading, and 
 rarely profitable or entirely satisfactory. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 a. The fiend : Among the peasantry of some countries in 
 Europe, there is a belief that every one is accompanied 
 by two spirits, a guardian angel, who stands on the 
 right hand, and a fiend, who stands on the left, the one 
 tempting to evil, the other exhorting to virtue. 
 
 7. take heed, etc. : The smack of legal phrase in Launcelot's 
 good angel is very amusing. With its tautologies, its 
 involutions, and its many opportunities for tangling 
 thought in the web of speech, the language of the law- 
 courts would naturally attract Launcelot, who delights 
 in the juggling of words and ideas. 
 
 g. scorn running with thy heels : The literal sense of " scorn " 
 is "dirt," "filth," and "scorning with the heels" may 
 mean " avoiding with contempt," figuratively, " to throw 
 mud on," as the heels of a man or a horse on something 
 from which they run. In any case, the meaning is, 
 " to spurn," " to kick." 
 
 12. for the heavens : That is, " for heaven's sake." Launce- 
 lot lives too much in the sunshine of life to entertain 
 any consistent metaphysical devils, and hence his fiend 
 is a very human devil, that calls upon him, with humor- 
 ous incongruity, in the name of heaven. 
 
 37. high-gravel-blind : Launcelot's coinage for the superlative 
 
 of sand-blind. (See gloss.) Like all punsters, he 
 
 38. is continually making a verbal freak of every word 
 which lends itself to the occasion. And even when a 
 word affords little or no chance for a quibble, his spirit 
 
 134 
 
NOTES Actn. Sen. 
 
 of parody turns it into something ludicrous, so that it 
 may be mischievousness, rather than ignorance, which 
 gives rise to such blunders as " incarnal " for incarnate ; 
 "confusions" for conclusions; "fruitify" for fructify, 
 " impertinent " for pertinent, etc. 
 
 65. The Sisters Three : The three Fates. The Christian 
 world being acquainted with them through the study of 
 the classics, they would appear as mere " branches of 
 learning " to one like Launcelot, whose mind seems to 
 be filled with a farrago of intellectual trifles, probably 
 picked out of the conversations of his superiors, 
 
 71. father: At one time it was the custom to address all old 
 people as " father " or " mother." Hence old Gobbo 
 does not take Launcelot's " father " in its proper 
 application. 
 
 81. Launcelot kneels: A piece of stage "business." Having 
 Launcelot's back to him, the old man feels his long 
 hair and mistakes it for a beard. 
 
 116. far as God has any ground : Which in Venice would not 
 be very far, for, according to an Irish traveler, " most 
 of the ground there is water." 
 
 128. rich Jew's man : One may be a boy in England, but for 
 all that, as a servant he is somebody's " man." 
 
 131. infection: For " incUnation." The old gentleman is put- 
 ting his best foot forward in his son's interest, and 
 thinks that the occasion calls for big words. A little 
 later he uses " defect " for " effect." 
 
 165. which doth offer, etc. : That is, if any man in Italy have 
 a fairer table, which (on account of its good promise) 
 doth offer to swear (doth afford ground for swearing) I 
 shall have good fortune. In palmistry, or chiromancy, 
 the palm of the hand is called " the table." " The hne 
 
 ^35 
 
Act n. Sc. r. 
 
 NOTES 
 
 of life" is the line which runs upward round the 
 base of the thumb. Launcelot is so elated by his suc- 
 cess that he reads in the lines of his hand all sorts of 
 good fortune and future success. 
 
 187. You have obtain'd it : A characteristic touch of impulsive 
 generosity. Bassanio does not stop to ask whether the 
 nature of the suit will permit of his gratifying the suitor, 
 but with his usual unreflecting goodheartedness, he 
 pledges himself beforehand. 
 
 204. hood mine eyes : It was once customary for people to 
 wear their hats at table, and to remove them only while 
 grace was being said. 
 
 213. your boldest suit of mirth: In order that the pleasure of 
 stealing the Jew's daughter may be heightened. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 5. soon at supper : About supper time. 
 
 20. thy loving wife : An extremely simple way of resolving 
 
 her doubts. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 5. spoke us yet of torch-bearers : Bespoken, or arranged for, 
 
 torch-bearers. 
 23. of a torch-bearer : In Shakespeare's time " of "was loosely 
 
 used for " about," " by," " with," etc. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 3. What, etc. : Exclamations of impatience 
 
 18. to night: Last night, as in Julius Caesar, III, iii, I 
 
 21. So do I his: There is a grim humor in Shylock's play 
 
 upon Launcelot's blunder, and also, perhaps, a dim pre- 
 figurement of events to come, 
 136 
 
NOTES Act n. sc. vu. 
 
 24. fell-a-bleeding : To have one's nose fall a-bleeding was 
 
 accounted " a bad sign" by the superstitious. 
 
 25. Black Monday : Easter Monday, called black Monday be- 
 
 cause on this day, in the reign of King Edward III., the 
 cold was so intense that many English soldiers perished 
 of it, as they lay before the city of Paris, which they 
 were besieging. See Stowe's Chronicles. 
 
 30. wry-neck'd fife : The player, not the instrument : wry- 
 necked, because in playing this instrument the neck is 
 somewhat twisted. 
 
 36: Jacob's staff : see Hebrews xi. 21. 
 
 43. a Jewess* eye : At one time in the history of England, the 
 king and nobles extorted money from the Jews by 
 threatening them with the loss of sight and other terri- 
 ble mutilations : hence " worth a Jew's eye " became a 
 proverbial expression for something of great value. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 5. Venus' pigeons : According to the fancy of the ancients, 
 Venus, the goddess of love, rode in a chariot drawn by 
 doves. 
 
 51. A Gentile: A very questionable compliment, under the 
 circumstances, to the Gentile. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 40. this shrine : Devout persons, in olden times, often went on 
 pilgrimages to the shrines of favorite saints. 
 
 51. To rib her cerecloth : To contain her shroud. 
 
 56. an angel : So called because on one side of the coin there 
 was a representation of Saint Michael piercing the 
 dragon. 
 
 60. Here do I choose : The choice of the golden casket is ex- 
 
 137 
 
Actm. sc.L NOTES 
 
 actly the one that we should expect so magnificent a 
 barbarian to make. 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 47. turning his face : " The outline of a beautiful picture." — 
 Malone. 
 
 Scene IX. 
 
 42. derived corruptly : It may be worthy of remark that at one 
 time civic offices were legally purchasable, and the cus- 
 tom of selling commissions in the army, instead of con- 
 ferring them only where desei-ved, has but lately died 
 out in England. 
 
 44. should cover : Wear their hats as masters and superiors, 
 who now stand bareheaded as menials or inferiors. 
 
 81. by their wit to lose: By being overconfident in their own 
 acuteness. 
 
 89. sensible regreets : Substantial greetings ; to wit, gifts of 
 rich value. 
 
 ACT III. Scene I. 
 
 2. lives there unchecked : The report goes uncontradicted. 
 
 5. call the place : Salarino, being a Venetian, is not sure of 
 
 the name of the place. " By such touches as these, 
 Shakespeare keeps perpetually before us the circum- 
 stance that the scene of his play is abroad." — Cowden 
 Clarke. 
 
 6. carcasses : Whoever has seen a wrecked vessel, half buried 
 
 in the sands, her planking torn away, her over-weathered 
 ribs lying naked against the sky, her masts, her rigging, 
 everything that makes the life of a ship, decayed by 
 time, by wind and by wave, will appreciate the force of 
 the word " carcasses," as here used. 
 
 138 
 
NOTES Actm. Set. 
 
 22. cross my prayer : Mar his prayer, i.e., that the report of 
 Antonio's losses may prove false. 
 
 26. You knew : Instead of answering Salanio's conventional 
 greeting, Shylock speaks of Jessica's flight as if it were 
 the only news among the merchants. Doubtless it was; 
 doubtless the whole town was talking of it, the Jews 
 regretfully, the Christians gleefully, with many a laugh 
 and jibe at Shylock's expense. Under the circum- 
 stances, Salanio's greeting has in it a good deal of cool 
 impudence. 
 
 46. a prodigal : Anyone who, like Antonio, lent out money 
 gratis, would certainly be a prodigal in the eyes of 
 Shylock. 
 
 60-61. I am a Jew : What scorn for Antonio there is in these 
 words: what bitterness, and, withal, what dignity and 
 pathos 1 
 
 70. revenge : " To those who, like the present editors, can re- 
 member Edmund Kean's delivery of this superb speech 
 of wild wrath, pleading its claim to some show of jus- 
 tice, there is excitement in recaUing the wonderful eyes 
 flashing out their red sparkles, the body writhing from 
 head to foot, the arm thrown upward as witness to the 
 recorded oath of vengeance. The attitude, as the voice, 
 rose to a sublime climax when these words were uttered : 
 then there was a drop, both of person and tone, as he 
 hissed out the closing sentence of deep concentrated 
 malignity." — Cowden Clarke. 
 
 76. " This sublime imprecation is the most eloquent plea that 
 the human voice has ever dared to utter for a despised 
 race." — Victor Hugo. Here it is that this Jew, made 
 up, according to many people, of greed, malice and 
 hatred, rises, through the greatness of his intellect, to 
 
 139 
 
Act in. sc.i. NOTES 
 
 the grandeur of a Moses. After this speech, it is im- 
 possible to despise Shylock, You must either hate him 
 or admire him. The petty spirits that tease this sub- 
 lime justification from him become as gnats in a thun- 
 der-storm when the fire of his eloquence flashes about 
 them. They cannot answer him fairly. They cannot 
 appreciate the truth of what he says. They can retort 
 only in stupid jibes and mean insults. 
 
 94. in her coffin : Honigman (Shakespeare Jahrbuch, vol. xvii., 
 p. 222) says that this passage, instead of proving that 
 Shylock's love of gain had eradicated all human affec- 
 tion from his heart, proves, on the contrary, a master- 
 stroke of the poet in depicting the unbridled passion of 
 a volcanic nature, like Shylock's, whose violence forces 
 his speech beyond the bounds of genuine feeling. 
 
 107. I thank God : It must be remembered that Shylock's grief 
 is still fresh. If •' misery loves company," then what 
 sweet balm is Antonio's misfortune to the wound made 
 by him and his friends in the heart of the Jew I 
 
 114. fourscore ducats : Tubal is not a lovable man. He stands, 
 as it were, with sweet wine in one hand and gall in the 
 other, each of which he gives, in turn, to his country- 
 man. But what force and what intensity his cunning 
 alternation of good and bad lends to the dialogue. Can 
 it be possible that this Jew Tubal hates the Christian as 
 fiercely as his friend ? that he is anxious to have his race 
 revenged, and that, with every mention of Antonio's 
 loss he goads Shylock into fury by telling him of some 
 new calamity brought about by his Christian enemies? 
 " But Antonio is certainly undone," are his last words, 
 words which wring from Shylock the terrible declara- 
 tion, " I will have the heart of him." 
 140 
 
NOTES Actm. se.ii. 
 
 126. of Leah : " With marvellous art Shakespeare here shows 
 us the betrayed and persecuted Jew, at the moment 
 when he is raving at the desertion of his daughter, and 
 panting for a wild revenge, as looking back upon the 
 days when the fierce passions had no place in his heart." 
 
 — FURNESS. 
 
 135. synagogue : " In entering his synagogue, Shylock entrusts 
 his hatred to the safeguard of his faith. Henceforward 
 his vengeance assumes a consecrated character. His 
 bloodthirstiness against the Christian becomes sacer- 
 dotal. When he appears before the tribunal, his bear- 
 ing is the indomitable impassiveness of a priest about 
 to sacrifice an expiatory lamb to the God of Sabaoth." 
 
 — Victor Hugo. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 I. I pray you, tarry . The delicacy of Portia's nature is shown 
 in this speech. She loves Bassanio, and she would tell 
 him so, but her modesty restrains her. " There's some- 
 thing tells me I would not lose you," she says ; and 
 fearing he will think her bold, she hastens to add, — " it 
 is not love " : then, thinking he will consider her devoid 
 of love for him, she says, " Hate counsels not in such a 
 quality." She would like to confess everything to him, 
 " yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought." Still, she 
 succeeds in making her feelings known, for her wish to 
 have him " pause a day or two " grows into the desire 
 to detain him " some month or two." 
 
 20. yours, not yours : Though I am yours by right of love, yet 
 fortune may part us. K you should prove it so by 
 choosing unluckily, then let fortune go to hell for being 
 
 141 
 
Act in. So. a. NOTES 
 
 so blind : but I will not be damned by breaking my 
 oath, by committing the sin of disobedience. 
 
 20. Prove it so : If it should prove so. 
 
 29. fear the enjoying : That is, ''iezx/or the enjoying." 
 
 51. dulcet sounds : An allusion to the old custom of playing 
 music under the windows of a bridegroom's bedroom 
 on the morning of his wedding-day. 
 
 55. Young Alcides : Young Hercules. Hesione, daughter of 
 Laomedon, King of Troy, was chained to a rock in the 
 sea, that she might be devoured by a sea monster, and 
 so appease the wrath of Neptune and Apollo. Hercules 
 undertook to save her for a reward. Hence Bassanio 
 " goes with more love " than the ancient hero, arxi, in 
 the eyes of Portia, with no less manly beauty. The 
 story is told by Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book xi, Fable iv. 
 
 57. I stand for sacrifice : As Hesione did. 
 
 58. Dardanian wives : Women of Dardania, or Troy. In E. E. 
 
 wife is frequently used for woman. Q.^. fish-wife. 
 62. A song. Notice that this song cautions the lover against 
 being led by fancy, the creations of which are only 
 superficial things, no matter how beautiful they may 
 appear. In the old novel, " II Pecorone," the maid does 
 actually betray the secret of the caskets to the lover, 
 and maybe Nerissa is guilty of doing the same thing in 
 Bassanio's behalf. She would favor him for several 
 reasons. She is devoted to Portia ; is anxious to see 
 her happily married ■, considers Bassanio most worthy 
 of her, and fearing that fortune might wed her dear 
 mistress to some disagreeable suitor it would only be 
 natural if she were led to throw out a few hints to the 
 clever Bassanio. And then there is Gratiano. Nerissa 
 loves him ; he returns her affection ; and their happiness 
 142 
 
NOTES Actm. sc. ii. 
 
 depends upon Bassanio's success. Certainly a person 
 would not have to be so clever as Bassanio in order to 
 profit by such a broad hint as that which tells us that 
 fancy " is engendered in the eyes ; " that it is fed on 
 appearance, and that it goes no farther than appearance. 
 Therefore, says the song, " let's have no fancy ; no 
 judging by looks. Let us ring old fancy's knell." 
 
 73. outward shows : He has caught his cue, and is already 
 determined to choose that casket to which the fancy 
 would be least attracted. 
 
 87. Valor's excrement : A beard like that of Hercules, which 
 would give even the coward a formidable appearance. 
 
 95. dowry : A satire upon the wearing of periwigs, a custom 
 very common toward the close of the 16th century. 
 
 gg. Veiling an Indian beauty : Many attempts have been 
 made to explain this passage. Some propose that we 
 read: 
 
 Veiling an Indian ; beauty^ s, etc. 
 
 Others say that it means, " concealing a black, thick- 
 lipped woman," beautiful in the eyes of her countrymen ; 
 hideous in ours. Is it necessary to take " beauty " so 
 strictly ? May it not mean " an Indian land" that is, 
 beauty of an Indian kind, which, seen from the sea, 
 attracts men by its loveliness, a loveliness that is, how- 
 ever, only a scarf which hides what is ugly and horrible ; 
 wild beasts, venomous reptiles, and all manner of dis- 
 agreeable things ? But whether it be an Indian land or 
 an Indian woman, the thought is clear enough. 
 102. Midas: King of Phrygia. He performed a service for 
 Bacchus who, in return, gave him the choice of desir- 
 ing any favor he pleased. " Cause that whatever I 
 touch with my body shall be turned into yellow gold." 
 
 143 
 
Act ni. sc. ii. NOTES 
 
 Bacchus assented to his vrish, and for awhile Midas was 
 happy. But his joy was soon turned to grieving, for 
 his food, his bed, his clothing, and everything that he 
 touched, turned into the yellow metal for which he had 
 longed. 
 
 103. pale : Sonie read " stale," but as Furness well remarks, 
 " It is the drudge's overwork between man and man 
 that makes him pale." 
 
 106. paleness : Some editions give " plainess," as an emenda- 
 tion, or attempted emendation, made by Warburton. 
 Paleness is the better word. It agrees with meagre 
 lead, whose pale, hungry appearance threatens the 
 chooser with disappointment. 
 
 112. rain thy joy : Comp., — 
 
 — pour not too fast thy Joys on me, 
 
 But sprinkle them so gently I may stand them. 
 
 Law of Candy, Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 
 188. our wishes : See note to line 62 of this scene. 
 
 192. wish none from me : " That is, none differently from me ; 
 none which I do not wish you." — Abbot. 
 
 200. for intermission, etc. : I am no more hkely to fail to take 
 advantage of (intermit) fair opportunities than you are. 
 To read (with the Cambridge editors) " I loved for in- 
 termission " is to make Gratiano's affection for Nerissa 
 very questionable. Besides, a man does not make 
 earnest love for pastime. Indeed it would seem, from 
 Gratiano's own account (204-209), that there was much 
 labor in his " pastime." He is a clever fellow, but 
 Nerissa is more than his equal ; so we can easily under- 
 stand that it required more from Gratiano than, fond 
 looks and lover's sighs to win the lady, 
 144 
 
NOTES Act in. sc. a. 
 
 223. not to have seen : We should say, to see ; but it is doubt- 
 ful whether in doing so we are superior to the Elizabe- 
 thans. They generally used the complete present 
 infinitive after verbs of wishing, willing, and hoping, as 
 if to imply that the thing desired was already an accom- 
 plished fact, something past and done, and beyond the 
 power of altering. See Abbott, § 360. 
 
 230. unless it be in mind : He is apparently well, but unless 
 courage support him, he may be sick in mind, on ac- 
 count of his misfortunes. 
 
 235. royal merchant: In the middle ages, a royal merchant 
 was one who conducted business in the interest of a 
 sovereign. It is to this kind of merchant that the 
 Duke refers in Act IV. i. 29; but in view of Antonio's 
 liberality, such as he practiced toward the poor of 
 Venice, and toward his friend Bassanio, may not " royal " 
 here mean " kingly," in the same sense as our expres- 
 sion : " He's a royaJ good fellow " ? 
 
 274. impeach : Bring disgrace upon, by proving that equal 
 rights are not recognized in Venice. It was the justice 
 which Venice insured to strangers that made her com- 
 merce so great, and drew such large numbers of foreign- 
 ers to her shores. 
 
 277. persuaded : What a triumph for " the dog Jew " to have 
 the great Christians of Venice pleading with him for 
 the life of the man that was wont to spit upon him I 
 
 315. between you and I : " Between you and I seems to have 
 been a regular Elizabethan idiom. The sound of d and t 
 before me was avoided." — Abbott, § 205. Grammatic- 
 ally considered, this explanation is sufficient ; but it fur- 
 nishes no reason for the usage. We may safely question 
 whether it was a conscious dislike for "the sound of 
 
 MS 
 
Actm. sc.iu. NOTES 
 
 d and t before me " that gave rise to this irregular use 
 of the pronoun. It will be found, upon inquiry, to 
 belong to that class of syntactical irregularities called by 
 grammarians, anacoluthia, wherein a sentence is begun 
 in one way and finished in another. This particular 
 irregularity is frequent in the speech of uneducated 
 people, who invariably get their cases mixed, if they be 
 at all separated from the words which govern them. 
 And this is also true of educated people, when they 
 speak under excitement or when they are affected 
 emotionally. This is precisely the case with Antonio, 
 who is overwhelmed with grief, and who, instead of con- 
 trolling his thoughts, is controlled by them. A good 
 many so-called grammatical irregularities become quite 
 explicable when studied in the light of human nature. 
 Comp., — 
 
 Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face, etc. 
 
 I. iii. 132. 
 In all hurried or unreflecting speech, in which the 
 speaker begins without knowing how he is going to end, 
 case-attraction is greatly responsible for errors of syntax, 
 and " between you and I " is a mistake easily made, on 
 account of the suggestiveness in '<you'' for the use of 
 the nominative. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 16. Christian intercessors : There is one admirable trait in 
 Shylock, his contempt for hypocrisy or cant. At no 
 time does he regret the cruelty which he contemplates, 
 nor does he offer any apologies for his intended act. 
 His hatred for Antonio, while it is horrible, is an in- 
 146 
 
NOTES Act in. sc. iv. 
 
 tensely honest hatred, and to his steadfast nature the 
 prayers of all Christian intercessors are but sentimental 
 exhibitions of weakness. Mercy? what mercy have 
 they ever taught him, these voiders of rheum, these 
 child-stealers ? They have instructed him only in vil- 
 lainy, and, by the God of Hosts, he will show them how 
 a Jew can take advantage of their tutoring 1 
 22. I oft deliver'd : Antonio will admit no wrong in himself, 
 and believes that the Jew hates him for his riches, for 
 his charity and loving kindness toward the Christian, 
 not for his loathing of the Jew, and his cruelty to him. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 8. prouder of the work : Portia is so used to being generous 
 that her customary bounty appears to her a simple duty ; 
 but to help her husband's friend is an act of which she 
 may well be proud. 
 30. her husband and my lord's return : The ellipsis in husband 
 (husband's) is perhaps due to the fact that Gratiano and 
 Bassanio are thought of as acting and thinking, in this 
 matter, as one. Comp., — 
 
 A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. 
 
 Henry VI. (Part III), II. vi. 43. 
 50. cousin's hand : Cousin was at one time used to denote 
 kinship generally, not, as now, in the narrow sense of 
 cousin-german. 
 
 52. imagined speed : With the speed of imagination. Comp., — 
 
 Thus with imagined wings our swift scene flies. 
 
 Hen. v., III., chorus. 
 
 53. tranect : (see glossary). "Whence did the poet get a 
 
 knowledge of the traghetto " (the ferry)? " Coryat " (his 
 
 147 
 
Act ui. sc. V. NOTES 
 
 book " Crudities" was published in 1661: the play ap- 
 peared in 1600) "is out of the question, and Vecellio, 
 even if we knew that Shakespeare had read his book, 
 which we do not, has not a word about the traghetto, 
 so that the disbelievers in an Italian journey of Shake- 
 speare cannot account for his knowledge by any other 
 means than by oral communication." — Karl Elze, 
 «' The supposed Travels of Shakespeare, " quoted in 
 Furness' Variorum Ed. The ferry in question (so Elze 
 says) was then at Fusina, at the mouth of the river 
 Brenta. We need not wonder at Shakespeare's knowl- 
 edge of the topography of Venice and its suburbs ; but 
 his acquaintance with the details of the city is remarka- 
 ble, and so faithfully painted, according to all accounts, 
 as to tempt one to believe that the eyes of the master 
 rested upon these scenes, and that in the rich lowlands 
 under the Euganian hills, the incomparable Portia was 
 created. We must not forget, however, that many of 
 the books of Shakespeare's time have been lost to us, 
 and that one or more of them may have described this 
 ferry. If the life of Defoe were as unknown to us as 
 the life of Shakespeare, who would dream that Robin- 
 son Crusoe was a landsman, and that the narrator had 
 never experienced any of the things which he describes ? 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 12. the Jew's daughter : When, in the bitterness of his grief, 
 that terrible cry, " I would that my daughter were dead 
 at my feet," etc., is wrung from Shylock, is it not be- 
 cause he has found Jessica the faithless creature which 
 in this scene she shows herself to be, a traitor to her 
 148 
 
NOTES Act IV. sc.L 
 
 father, to her nation, to everything that Shylock con- 
 siders great and holy ? She has ceased to be his child, 
 and the stolen jewels have become dearer to him than 
 this foolish, butterfly daughter. Notice the change in 
 Launcelot's manner of addressing her. It is wanting 
 in respect, is even impertinent and familiar, and would 
 not be tolerated by any woman but one, like Jessica, 
 wanting in character and self-esteem. It may be that 
 Launcelot is a " patch " whom nobody takes seriously ; 
 perhaps, with his wonted fondness, he is playing upon 
 the word; but it may also be that he is telling Jessica, 
 in his peculiar way, that the making of such Christians 
 as she can serve only to raise the price of pork and to 
 make rashers scarce. 
 
 6a. suited; Matched, or arranged (see gloss.); which is as much 
 as to say that Launcelot's words are as well matched as 
 the patches of a crazy-quilt. 
 
 74, mean it : Strive for, aim at it. But " it " may refer to " up- 
 right life," and in that case the meaning is clear. " If 
 he does not mean (contemplate) an upright life, and so 
 prove worthy of the earthly joys wherewith he is blessed, 
 then in reason he should never come to heaven." 
 
 81. of me : That is, in me. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene I. 
 
 16. make room, etc. : This speech throughout is worthy of a 
 noble governor. His reference to Antonio's sad state 
 has much pathos, and his appeal to the Jew's humanity 
 is full of tenderness. His speech is, in every respect, a 
 Christian intercession, contrasted with which the hard, 
 cold answer of Shylock comes like a chill blast of 
 149 
 
Act IV. Sc. i. NOTES 
 
 Winter in a day of Spring. The wonderful antitheses 
 of human passions in this scene are unequalled in all 
 the range of literature : nation against nation ; personal 
 spite and racial hate ; the law and human charity front- 
 ing each other; the gentleness of mercy appealing to 
 the grandeur of Justice ; the merciful spirit of Chris- 
 tianity entreating pity of the inexorable descendant of 
 Joshua and Job ; the despair of stricken friendship and 
 the exultation of enmity ; the fires of truth and the 
 lightnings of intellect which flash from the allision of 
 diverse and gifted personalities — taken together, these 
 make a scene unique in its combination of the humor- 
 ous and the tragic, and without a fellow in perfectness 
 of action and greatness of dialogue. 
 
 49. affection, mistress of passioo : By affection is here meant 
 an inherent sympathy for a thing, as the affection of a 
 child for its parents. As we cannot have a passion for 
 anything towards which we are not drawn by affection, 
 it follows that affection is the mistress of passion. 
 Comp., " Every man with his affects is born." L. L. L. 
 I. i. 152. (That is, he cannot have a passion for a thing 
 which it is not in his nature to like.) 
 
 59. certain loathing ; Certain may here meanyf^r^'o', sui-e; but it 
 may also mean a loathing which is as inexplicable as 
 the antipathy of some people for a cat or a gaping pig, 
 that is, a roast pig with a lemon in its mouth. It is 
 hardly likely that Shylock would tell the Christian 
 judge that he hated Antonio "for he is a Christian," or 
 " because he lends out money gratis," etc. He there- 
 fore declares that his loathing for Antonio is indefinable, 
 is a peculiar humor which prefers a weight of carrion 
 flesh to three thousand ducats. 
 150 
 
NOTES Act IV. Set 
 
 67. offence : In this sense it means resentment, as well as the 
 injury itself. " That is, displeasure is not a hate, 
 neither is our manner of making our displeasure known. 
 Bassanio uses the word in the former sense, Shylock's 
 reply alludes to the latter." — Clarendon, quoted in 
 
 FURNESS. 
 
 74. forbid — make no noise : The practice of making one verb 
 to serve for two nouns, each of which requires a distinct 
 
 75. verb, is common among Elizabethan writers. So long 
 as the sense could be gathered from the context, they 
 were not over-nice in their observance of grammatical 
 principles. In Old English and in Middle English 
 the double negative seems to have been a common 
 idiom, as it is to-day in the speech of the unlettered. 
 Comp., — 
 
 He never yet no vileyne ne sayd 
 In all his lyf unto no maner wight. 
 
 Cant. Tales, 70. 
 Also : 
 
 / do not care for no tnan^ I. 
 
 Rom. and Juliet. 
 Examples might be multiplied. We should err in con- 
 sidering such forms from a narrow grammatical stand- 
 point, for so regarded, they cannot be satisfactorily 
 explained. There is a principle of relationship, a desire 
 for concord, underlying these forms. " Not care," and 
 " no man," ♦' forbid " and " no noise," are mutually at- 
 tractive, and however they may outrage rules of syntax, 
 they certainly serve to make the negation more explicit 
 and emphatic than the single negative. So in our 
 vulgar speech, " I ain't seen nobody," " I ain't done 
 nothing," etc., the not having seen and the not having 
 
Act IV. Se.i. NOTES 
 
 done suggesting absolute want of result = complete 
 negation. Comp. also the French ne pas, as an example 
 of emphatic negation. Ne (not) of itself is sufficient, 
 and in Old Fr. fas is not used ; but just as in English 
 we say "not a bit" etc., so in French it became the 
 custom to strengthen ne (not) by adding pas (a step), 
 so that to-day, ne-pas, " not a step," is the regular form 
 of negation. 
 X04. Bellario : Dr. Johnson criticises the bringing in of Bel- 
 lario as a forced expedient : but his criticism will not 
 hold. The learned Bellario is a logical unit in the 
 play, has an important share in the shaping of events, 
 and comes into the action quite naturally. In the 
 second scene of act III., we are told that the Duke him- 
 self and the magnificoes of greatest port, " have all per- 
 suaded with him" (Shylock), but none can drive him 
 from his envious plea. Now the Duke, and every Chris- 
 tian in Venice, would be eager to deliver a fellow-Chris- 
 tian from the power of a Jew, especially such a Christian 
 as Antonio from such a Jew as Shylock ; and finding no 
 jurist in Venice capable of resolving the case in Anto- 
 nio's favor, what more natural than that the Duke, at his 
 wit's end, should seek outside of Venice for an advisor ? 
 Bellario is learned, evidently famous. He lives in the 
 adjacent city of Padua. To him the Duke sends a mes- 
 sage, acquainting him with the case ; and we assume that 
 the Duke, being a man of some foresight, does not wait 
 until the day before the trial to summon him, but calls 
 upon him immediately after he himself, twenty mer- 
 chants, and the manificoes of greatest port have failed 
 to soften Antonio's stony adversary. In scene iv. of 
 act III. we find Lorenzo complimenting Portia upon the 
 
 152 
 
NOTES Act IV. sc.L 
 
 manner in which she bears the absence of her lord. 
 Some time, then, has passed between the close of scene 
 iii. and the opening of scene iv. Portia has furnished 
 Bassanio with money for his friend's deliverance ; but 
 she doubts whether the money will appease the Jew 
 (having in mind the words of Jessica; III. ii. 280), and 
 like the Duke, she sends to her learned kinsman to see 
 what may be done by law for her husband's friend, in 
 case the Jew refuse to accept the money from Bassanio. 
 Bellario has evidently answered her before the opening 
 of scene iv. act III. ; told her that even though the money 
 be refused, Antonio may be delivered from the Jew; 
 and he has promised her that, if she so desires, he will 
 give her all the assistance in his power. Portia's 
 arrangements have been made ; and while she is deceiv- 
 ing Lorenzo and the others with tales of a monastery, 
 the erudite Bellario is consulting his books, and pre- 
 paring a good case for his fair cousin. 
 
 128. let justice be accused : Let justice herself be charged with 
 crime for permitting you to exist. 
 
 130. Pythagoras : A celebrated Greek philosopher who lived 
 about 540-510 B.C. He believed in what is called 
 metempsychosis, or the transmigration of the souls of 
 men into the bodies of animals, and of animals into 
 men. 
 
 138. rail : " My father says that the prolonged, grating, guttural 
 tone of contempt with which Edmund Kean dwelt on 
 this word, has never left his memory." — FuRNESS. 
 
 141. for law: Vituperation, tactful speeches and appeals to 
 mercy, these are to Shylock but Christian folUes. The 
 Law I nothing equals that; nothing else can be right. 
 He stands upon the basal principle of his faith. For 
 
 153 
 
Actjv. sc.i. NOTES 
 
 the sake of it he will bear taunts, jeers, every form of 
 ignominy which it is possible for the misbelievers to 
 devise. " An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth 1 " 
 That is the law ; and he has a covenant with God that 
 the law shall be observed. To the Christian, Shylock's 
 God is bloody, fierce and cruel ; but to the Jew, with 
 his fatalistic philosophy, it is the peculiar privilege of 
 Jehovah to be and do whatsoever He pleases ; and as 
 the tribes on Mount Ebal accepted the terrific despotism 
 set forth by Moses, and to the horrors of the dictum of 
 their deity cried : " Amen, so let it be," so this grim 
 child of his forefathers stands in the presence of a 
 Christian world, and to the most beautiful appeal for 
 mercy ever uttered, can be as cold and stony as the 
 blasted top of Mount Ebal, and answer, " I crave the 
 Law 1 " 
 
 i6i. no impediment to let him lack: That is, to hinder him 
 from receiving. 
 
 185. twice blest : As an attribute to God, it is, like all divine 
 virtues, blessed in its nature and in the merciful offices 
 that it performs. 
 
 199. pray for mercy: In the Lord's prayer, "forgive us our 
 trespasses." When we consider that the Jews of 
 Shakespeare's time had small cause, so far as Chris- 
 tians were concerned, to pray for forgiveness, that the 
 Jew was powerless to trespass against the Christian, 
 while the Christian was constantly and wantonly tres- 
 passing against the Jew, we must admit that Portia's 
 reference to the Lord's Prayer is sadly out of point. 
 To Shylock her reasoning is shallow, and her illustra- 
 tions impertinent. " That same prayer " had never 
 taught the Christians mercy toward the Jew. Besides, 
 
 154 
 
NOTES Act IV. :Sc.l 
 
 Portia's "Our Father "is not Shylock's. His deity is 
 a sublime terror, a smiter of men, awful, implacable; 
 and her God is to Shylock too gentle to be admirable, 
 a power that deals out mercy after a manner too nearly 
 resembling Antonio's Christian courtesies, for Shylock 
 to worship. And so he answers with a haughty con- 
 tempt for her God : " My deeds upon my head. I crave 
 the law ! " 
 
 261. 'tis iM)t in the bond : It must be remembered that Shylock 
 has almost ceased to be a man : he has become an 
 embodied hate, one great incarnate lust for revenge. 
 
 280. with all my heart : " A jest like this enhances the pathos. 
 Men at the point of death have a natural tendency to be- 
 guile the time by playing upon words." — Clarendon. 
 When Ridley and Latimer were being burned at the 
 stake, Latimer cried as the flames hissed around him : 
 " Play the man, Master Ridley : we shall this day light 
 such a candle by God's grace in England as I trust shall 
 never be put out." As the executioner was about to cut 
 off the head of Sir Thomas More, the old hero moved 
 his beard from the block, saying, " Pity that should be 
 cut that has never committed treason." Gaunt (King 
 Richard, act II. i.) plays upon his name on his death- 
 bed: 
 
 Gaunt. Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave. 
 King Richard. Can sick men play so nicely with their 
 
 names ? 
 Gaunt. A^o, misery makes sport to mock itself. 
 
 306. jot of blood : This is " the merest verbal quibble. When 
 I see Antonio saved by a species of construction, accord- 
 ing to which, if a man contracted to cut a slice of 
 melon, he would be deprived of the benefit of his con- 
 
 15s 
 
Act IV. Sc. i. NOTES 
 
 tract unless he had stipulated, in so many words, for 
 the incidental spilling of the juice, one cannot help 
 recognizing, in the fiction of the immortal poet, an in- 
 tensified representation of the popular faith — that the 
 law regarded the letter, not the spirit." — Haynes, 
 Outlines of Equity (quoted in Furness). 
 
 367. our spirit : The Jew having been robbed of his posses- 
 sions by Christian sophistry, the magnanimous Uuke 
 proceeds to give Shylock an example of the superiority 
 of Christian virtue over that of the Jew. 
 
 382I half in use : That is, to hold it in trust for Shylock, to be 
 given to Lorenzo after the Jew's death. Doubtless 
 Antonio means to be kind, nevertheless, had he spent 
 months in devising some mode of punishment that 
 should be refinedly cruel, he could not have hit upon a 
 better way of crushing the spirit of his enemy. That 
 Antonio, the man whom he hates so fiercely, should 
 become his patron and deal out his own property to 
 him " for a Christian courtesy," could any sharper 
 dagger be fashioned to stick in the proud Jew? And 
 that Antonio, who rails against the sacred nation of 
 Shylock, should propose Christianity, apostasy, to him 
 — what sorrow could be more bitter, what ignominy 
 more deep .' 
 
 393. I am content: Do these words discover a weakness in 
 Shylock, or are they the words of hopeless despair ? 
 He has fought his fight and lost. Victory seemed cer- 
 tain, but in its stead came defeat, sudden, overwhelm- 
 ing ; and now the grim old man stands dazed, crushed, 
 and helpless. The world has caught him upon the hip, 
 and has downed him. Hatred, his strength, has been 
 made impotent. " I am content," content to stagger 
 
 156 
 
 t! 
 
 4 
 
NOTES Act V. Sc. i. 
 
 home with a jeering mob at his heels, and to sit there 
 in the blackness of his disappointment, with the venom 
 meant for others embittering his every hour. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 " It is worth noting how Shakespeare, in his short and 
 apparently insignificant scenes, makes them serve fullest 
 dramatic purpose. Here, the very first thing, Portia 
 fulfills, in careful, practical, professional way, the duty 
 of conveying the deed to Shylock for signature; and 
 afterwards, by her desiring Gratiano to shew her clerk 
 the way to the Jew's house, the opportunity for Nerissa 
 to obtain her husband's ring is naturally brought about." 
 — CowDEN Clarke. 
 
 Act V. Scene I. 
 
 4. Troylus : This passage is perhaps a reminiscence of that in 
 Chaucer's Troylus and Cressid, Book V., 606. 
 
 7. Thisbe : A beautiful lady of Babylon, whose parents were 
 opposed to her marriage with Pyramus, whom she loved. 
 They once arranged to meet at the tomb of Ninus, and 
 while Thisbe, who had arrived first, was waiting for 
 Pyramus, she saw a lioness in the act of tearing an ox 
 to pieces. Terror-stricken, she fled, and in going she 
 dropped her mantle, which the lioness soiled with blood. 
 When Pyramus reached the meeting-place he saw the 
 bloody garment, and thinking that Thisbe had been 
 slain, he killed himself. Thisbe returned and found 
 her lover's body, the sight of which crazed her with 
 grief, and she likewise made away with herself. In 
 Chaucer's Legend of Good Women, Thisbe, Dido, and 
 
 157 
 
Act V. sc. i. NOTES 
 
 Media come in succession. Compare Bottom's version 
 of Pyramus and Thisbe ; Midsummer Night's Dream 
 V. i. 
 
 10. Dido : " T/iis 7ioblc queen that cleped 7vas Dido, 
 That -ivhylotn was the wyf of Sitheo, 
 That fai^'er was than is the brighte sonne, 
 This noble toun of Carthage hath begomie. (i.e. founded). 
 Chaucer, Legend of Good Women, 1004. 
 
 Carthage was the capital of Libya, of -which the beauti- 
 ful Dido was queen. Aeneas, after the war of Troy, 
 landed at Carthage, saw Dido, fell in love with her, and 
 in return was beloved. Aftenvards he sailed away to 
 Italy, and left her in great sorrow. 
 10. willow : The willow was an emblem of sorrow. Comp. 
 the song of Desdemona in Othello, IV. iii. Although 
 the classical Dido is never represented thuG, the present 
 picture is made more beautiful by the introduction of 
 the willow, for it adds a tender pathos to the description, 
 and humanizes what might otherwise be a mere lifeless 
 illustration from the ancients. 
 
 14. old Aeson: The father of Jason the Argonaut, whom Media 
 
 restored to youth by boiling him in a caldron filled 
 with enchanted herbs. How natural it is that the still- 
 ness of night, and the indefinite, mysterious character 
 which the light of the moon gives to everything, should 
 bring to Lorenzo's mind the thought of the enchantress 
 and her witchery. How natural, too, that the mention 
 of Media, whose departure with Jason was a classical 
 elopement, should suggest to him his own flight with 
 Jessica. 
 
 15. steal : Lorenzo, as Furness remarks, might have chosen a 
 
 T58 
 
NOTES Act V. Sc. i. 
 
 happier word. " Steal " jars upon us. For the thought 
 of Jessica's wrong-doing robs the scene of somewhat of 
 its joyousness, Uke a dark cloud among the " patines of 
 bright gold," made darker by her light-heartedness, by 
 her absolute forgetfulness, in the midst of all this love- 
 liness and happiness, of the old Jew who sits alone in 
 his sober dwelling, crushed, reviled, and deserted. 
 
 37. ceremoniously prepare : Notice the interchange of ideas, 
 that which really proceeds from the action (ceremonious 
 welcome), being given to the action itself. This figure, 
 by which the relations of things are interchanged, is 
 called, in rhetoric, Hypallage. Sometimes an adjective 
 is used for an adverb, e. g., " He ate a hasty plate of 
 soup." Sometimes the adverb takes the place of the 
 adjective, as in this case: Let us ceremoniously pre- 
 pare, for, let us prepare a ceremonious welcome ; and 
 sometimes one noun changes position with another: 
 "dare classibus austros^^ (to give the winds to the fleet), 
 which should read, logically, " to give the fleet to the 
 winds." 
 
 63. Such harmony : The harmony of the spheres is figuratively 
 treated in Plato's Repubhc, Book X. Comp., also, — 
 Then listen I 
 To the celestial siren^s harmony, 
 That sit upott the nine infolded spheres. 
 
 Milton, Arcades, 62. 
 The fancy is very old : comp., — 
 When the morning stars sang together. — Job, xxxviii. 
 
 64-65. We cannot hear the immortal harmony because our 
 
 souls are closed in by mortal garments of flesh. 
 99. respect: Attention, fitness ; so that the music which Portia 
 
 IS9 
 
Act V. Sc. i. NOTES 
 
 might not notice by day seems now part of the loveli- 
 ness about her, and commands attention. 
 
 103. attended : Accompanied by fit attributes. The crow's 
 song, in its place, is well enough, but heard at the same 
 time with the lark's, it is a sad performance. Music 
 heard by day, when other sounds break in upon us, 
 is not so pleasing as when it rises in the stillness of 
 night, especially a night in which the landscape wears 
 the sober glory of moonlight, and when our own hearts 
 are radiant with love, and our spirits are bright as the 
 heavens. Music is then the harmony of nature and the 
 spirit made audible. 
 
 109. Endymion : A figure of speech with Shakespeare, as with 
 all great poets, is never a mere transposition of mean- 
 ing. It is a noble mode of expressing his conception ; 
 nor is it ever used viith the purpose of making the 
 thought clearer, for the figure is itself the thought, not 
 a rhetorical aid to beauty of expression. " The moon 
 sleeps with Endymion " does not mean, " the moon is 
 behind a cloud." It means here that the exquisite- 
 souled Portia looks upon nature with the eyes of love 
 and imagination, so that, for her, everything of beauty 
 takes on a beautiful personality. When the silver light 
 is fleeting away, it is not to Portia a physical phenome- 
 non ; it is the moon stealing to meet her beloved ; and 
 when her face is hidden by the clouds, Dian sleeps with 
 Endymion ; and Portia, as if the darkness and the deep 
 hush held a meaning for her, bids the music cease. 
 
 124. daylight sick : Mark the happy effect here. The moor 
 
 has been hidden, but immediately before the entrance 
 
 of Bassanio, Antonio and Gratiano, she sheds her light 
 
 upon the scene, so that the night is like the day, pale, 
 
 160 
 
 
NOTES Act V. Sc. i. 
 
 as it were, with sickness. In this joy darkness has no 
 place, and from this point on, the fair garden at Belmont 
 is flooded with radiance. 
 
 139. our house : " How delicate is this little touch of modesty 
 and generosity. She has just endowed her husband 
 with her property." — Cowden Clarke. 
 
 203. much unreasonable : Muck was used in Early English to 
 denote size and degree, as well as quantity. " Much and 
 lite" (big and little), Chaucer, Cant. Tales, 496. Hence 
 it was sometimes used by Shakespeare and his con- 
 temporaries as an adverb of degree. Comp. also, — 
 
 wonderliche deep, much and swithe strong', (wonder- 
 fully deep, large, and exceedingly strong). 
 
 Layamon, Brut. 
 
 205. wanted the modesty : " As to have lacked the modera- 
 tion" (the subject is "man"). 
 
 217. shame and courtesy : That is, " I was beset with feelings 
 of shame and appeals to my courtesy." 
 
 233. double self : " Used in a bad sense iox,full 0/ duplicity.^* — 
 Malone. 
 
 281. inter'gatories : interrogatories. In the court of Queen's 
 Bench, persons on trial are " charged upon interrogato- 
 ries," and made to swear that they will answer all things 
 faithfully. The play has indeed become a comedy. But 
 a little while since, these persons of whom we take our 
 leave to the sounds of music, light mirth, and joyous 
 laughter, stood within the shadow of death. To them the 
 Law was great and august, its very name to be epoken 
 with fear and reverence : now it is something to make 
 merry over. Portia, the sometime grave young judge^ 
 plays with the musty terms of the law, and turns its 
 
 i6z 
 
I 
 
 Act V. Sc. i. NOTES 
 
 sober language into a pleasant invitation. " The dis- 
 cords are heard ho more, as we linger on the moonlit 
 bank at Belmont, and seek to catch the faint echoes 
 upon earth of the choral music of the spheres." — Boas, 
 Shakespeare and his Predecessors, ch. x. 
 
 162 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 CONTRACTIONS. 
 
 A. Adjective. 
 
 Acc. Accusative. 
 
 Ad. Adverb. 
 
 A. S. Anglo-Saxon. 
 
 Comp. Compare. 
 
 Con. Conjunction. 
 
 Du. Dutch. 
 
 E. E. Early English. 
 
 Fr. French. 
 
 Gr. Greek. 
 
 Inter. Interjection. 
 
 Lat. Latin. 
 
 Low Lat. Low Latin. 
 
 M. E. Middle English. 
 
 N. Noun. 
 
 0. Fr. Old French. 
 
 P. P. Past Participle. 
 
 Prep. Preposition. 
 
 Pt. Participle. 
 
 Scan. Scandinavian. 
 
 Sabst. Substantive. 
 
 Swed. Swedish. 
 
 V. Verb. 
 
 I., II., III., IV., etc. Act. 
 
 i., ii., iii., iv., etc. Scene. 
 
 x> 2, 3, 4, etc. Lines. 
 
 — , derived from. 
 
 N. E. D. , New English Dictionary. 
 
 A. 
 
 Abode: (subst.) delay, Act II., sc. vi., 1. 21. This is commonly 
 the sense in M. E. 
 
 Achieved : Won, or brought to a successful issue : III. ii. 209. 
 Comp., "Then began the Justs (Jousts) which was valiantlie 
 atchieved by the king." — HoLINSHED, Chronicle III. 
 
 Advice: Consideration, IV. ii. 6. Comp., That's not suddenly 
 to be performed, but with advice and silent secrecy. — 
 2 Henry VI., II. ii. 68. 
 
 Andrew: A large ship, I. i, 27. So called because vessels of 
 great burden were commanded by the famous naval com- 
 mander, Andrea Dorea. 
 
 An : if, I. ii. 96 ; and so throughout. 
 163 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Anon : Immediately, presently, II. ii. 123. 
 
 Approve: Justify, III. ii. 79. Comp., I shall not fail to approve 
 the fair conceit the king hath of you; Henry VIII., II. iii. 
 
 74- 
 
 Argosy: A merchant vessel, I. i. 9. A corruption of Ragosie, a 
 ship of Ragusa. Perhaps from the Spanish " Aigos," the 
 name of the famous ship in which Jason and his com- 
 panions sailed in search of the golden fleece. 
 
 Attempt : Tempt, endeavor to win over, IV. i. 420. 
 
 Attentive : Sensitive, easily impressed or enthralled, V. i. 70. 
 Literally, on the stretch ; Lat. atientus, tretched out ; 
 attendere, to stretch towards, give heed to. 
 
 B. 
 
 Bated : (vb.) Reduced, worn out ; III. iii, 32. 
 
 Bated: (pt.) Lowered (from fear), I. iii. 121. M. E. bate, a con- 
 traction of " to beat." — O. Fr. abatre, to lower, to beat 
 down. — Low Lat. abbatere, to beat, or lower, down. 
 
 Bestowed: (pt.) II. ii. 178: Arranged, ordered. M. E. bestowen, 
 to place, arrange. 
 
 Bottom : (n.) Vessel, ship, I. i. 42. 
 
 Beauty: (n.) False, show, III. ii. 88. Comp., 
 
 — the harlofs cheek, 
 Beautied with plastering art. 
 
 Hamlet, III. i. 51. 
 
 Burial: (n.) Grave, I. i. 29, M. E. burial, a grave; — A. S. bir- 
 
 gals, a tomb. 
 Baned: (pt.) Killed, destroyed, IV. i. 46. M. E. bane ; — A. S. 
 
 bana, a slayer, destroyer. 
 Behanced : Having happened, I. i. 38. The prefix is A. S., and 
 
 implies "to make," to "bring to pass." So benumb, 
 164 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 become, befall. O. Fr. chaunce ; — Lat. cadentia, that 
 which falls out or happens ; — cadere, to fall. 
 
 C. 
 
 Cater: " Cater-cousins," II. ii. 137. Of doubtful etymology, 
 Some derive it from Fr. quatre cousin (fourth cousin), 
 others from Eng. cater + cousin, which would mean one 
 being catered to at the same table, hence a close compan- 
 ion. See N. E. D. for a full discussion of the phrase. 
 
 Certified : Informed, assured, II. viii. 10. 
 
 Cheer: Face, countenance. III. ii. 308. Comp., The children 
 of Israel myghten not beholden into the face of ]\Iose for the 
 glory of his cheere. — 2 Cor. iii., Wyck. trans. Also, 
 Received her with so glad a cheere. — Cant. T., 4816. Pale 
 of cheere. Mid. Night's Dr., III. ii. 96. 
 
 Civility : Good manners, refinement, II. ii. 206. 
 
 Close : Secretive, sheltering, II. vi. 47. 
 
 Colchos : (properly Colchis) The modern Mingretia, a country 
 lying at the east end of the Black Sea. I. i. 169. Thither 
 Jason and the Argonauts went to win the golden fleece, 
 which was fastened to a tree in a garden consecrated to 
 Ares (Mars), and guarded by a dragon. Jason succeeded 
 in securing the fleece, with the aid of Media, daughter 
 of King Aaetes, whom he married, and subsequently 
 deserted. 
 
 Commends : Compliments, praise, II. ix. 90. 
 
 Commodity : Goods, property, I. i. 176. 
 
 Complexion : Nature, habit, III. i. 32. 
 
 Compromised : Mutually agreed, I. iii. 79. 
 
 Conceit: (i) (n.) Intellect, understanding, I. i. 92. This word is 
 but another form of " conceive." O. Fr. concever, to 
 conceive ; — Lat. con (for cum) together, or wholly, and 
 16s 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 capere, to take, lay hold on. It will readily be seen how 
 the ability to take hold of, or to grasp, a material thing 
 with ease would come to be applied to mental capability 
 or readiness of understanding. Comp., Unripe years did 
 want conceit. — Pilgr. i. 51. 
 
 Conceit : (2) (n.) Breeding,nature, extraction. Comp., / know 
 you are a gentleman of good conceit. — As You Like It, 
 V. ii. 59. 
 
 Conceit : (3) Conception, III. iv. 2. 
 
 Conceits: (4) Fanciful ideas, III. v., 61. Comp., 
 
 ' Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. 
 
 King Richard II., II. ii. 33. 
 
 Condition: Temperament, disposition, I. ii. 142. 
 
 Confound: To ruin, destroy. III. ii. 272. Comp., All is con- 
 founded. — Henry V., IV. v. 3. 
 
 Constant : Steadfast, not easily moved. III. ii. 243. 
 
 Convenient : Suitable, III. iv. 56. 
 
 Cope : Pay, reward. — Du. koopen to buy, bargain with, IV. i. 411. 
 Gower has " under the cope of heaven" ; Milton, " under the 
 cope of Hell " ; Par. L., Book I., 309, and it may be that cop6 
 is a noun used here as a verb : we freely caver your 
 courteous palm {pains) withal. Comp., "to cover one's 
 losses," that is, to be assured of indemnity. 
 
 Counterfeit: Portrait, III. ii. 115. Comp., Much liker than 
 your painted counterfeit. — Sonnet XVI. 8. 
 
 County : " The County Palatine," I. ii. 49. Shakespeare fre- 
 quently uses county for count. Palatine originally meant 
 "belonging," or " pertaining to," a palace. A count pala- 
 tine was a nobleman attached to the palace, or household, 
 of the king. O. Fr. compte, count, equivalent to the 
 166 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 English " Earle." The word originally meant " com- 
 panion ; " Lat. comitem, ace. of comes, a companion. 
 
 Cozen : To cheat, flatter ; II. ix. 38. Formed from the noun 
 " cousin " ; — Fr. cousiner, " to claim kindred for advantage, 
 or particular ends ; as he who, to save charges in travel- 
 ling, goes from house to house, as cosin to the honour of 
 every one." — Cotgrave. 
 
 Crisped : Curled, III. ii. 92. 
 
 D. 
 
 Danger : Power to inflict punishment ; power to harm, IV. i. 179. 
 Comp., A/ found they Dau7tger for a time a lord. 
 Chaucer, Legend of Good Women, Prologue A, 160, 
 M. E. daunger, absolute power; O. Fr. dangier, absolute 
 authority. Littre traces the word back to O. Lat. dom- 
 inarium, dominum= absolute power. In feudal times 
 dangler— ■power, authority, became synonymous, in the 
 minds of people harassed by a dishonest, cruel aristocracy, 
 with '■'■risk" in which sense we now use it. 
 
 Deface : Cancel, make null. III. ii. 295. 
 
 Devised : Arranged by bequest, ordained, I. ii. 32. Comp., 
 
 But he shal maken, as ye wil devyse, 
 Of wommen trewe in lovinge al hir lyve. 
 Chaucer, Legend of Good Wom., Prol. A., I. 437. 
 
 M. E. devisen ; — O. Fr. deviser, arrange, bequeath, regulate ; 
 
 — Low Lat. divisa, disposition of property; — dividere, to 
 
 divide. 
 Discover: Exhibit, uncover, disclose, II. vii. i. 
 Doit : A coin of little value, I. iii. 136. Merely the English form 
 
 of Dut. diiit, a doit. 
 
 167 
 
GLOSSARY 1 1 
 
 Ducat : A pkiece of money coined by a duke, I. iii. i. The Vene- 
 tian ducat of Shakespeare's time was about equal in value 
 to the American dollar. 
 
 E. 
 
 Eanlings : New-born lambs (commonly spelled yeanlings), I. iii. 80, 
 Entertain: To put on, preserve, maintain, I. i. 90. Comp., 
 
 He entertained a show so seeming just. — Rape of Lucrece, 
 
 I. 1514. 
 Envious: Malicious, full of hate. III. ii. 278. Comp., For he 
 
 ■wiste that the higheste priestis hadden take him by envy : 
 
 that is, out of hate. Mark xv., Wyck. trans. 
 Equal: Exact, just the weight, I. iii. 145. 
 Ergo: Therefore, hence, II. ii. 59. Lat. ergo, therefore. 
 Estate : Condition, III. ii. 232. In act I. i. 43, estate means 
 
 "possessions," "commercial standing." The two words 
 
 are identical, both of them being from Lat. status, literally 
 
 a standing ; hence, condition, rank, state. 
 Exclaim: Censure, accuse. III. ii. 175. Comp., Exclaim on 
 
 death. Rape of Lucrece, I. 741. 
 
 Fancy : Love, III. ii. 63. Shakespeare uses the word frequently 
 
 in this sense. Comp., A niartial man to be soft /ancy^s 
 
 slave. — Rape of Lucrece, C. 200. 
 Faithless : Unbelieving, pagan (in the opprobrious Christian 
 
 application of the word), II. iv. 37. 
 Fell: Wicked, cruel, IV. i. 134. A. S. /el, cruel, fierce. 
 Fill : " Fill-horse," shaft horse, II. ii. 98. The proper form is 
 
 thill, A. S., thille, a board, piece of wood, shaft of a cart. 
 Firm : Sound, which cannot be overturned, IV. i. 52. 
 168 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Fleet : (vb.) Flit, escape, III. ii. io8; IV. i. 134. 
 
 Fond: Foolish, II. ix. 27; III. iii. 9. M. E. fontied, p.p. of 
 
 formen, to act foolislaly. Swed.,ya«^, a fool, simpleton. 
 Foot: (vb.) Kick, spurn, I. iii. 115. 
 For : Because, for the reason that, I. iii. 43. Comp., — 
 
 My foolish rival that her father likes 
 
 Otily for his possessions are so huge. 
 
 Two Gent, of Ver., II. iv. 175. 
 Also, 
 
 And for the morning now is something worn. 
 Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. 
 
 Mid. Night's Dr., IV. i. 187. 
 
 G. 
 
 Gaberdine : A frock, a large cloak, I. iii. 109. Span, gaberdine, 
 a coarse frock. Connected with Span, cabaza, a hooded 
 cloak, and with Span, cabana, a hut, cabin, which is, in 
 turn, from the Celtic caban, a tent, a cottage. As a tent 
 or hut afforded protection from the elements, so the 
 large cloak, or gaberdine, derived its name from the Celtic 
 caban. 
 
 Gaged: Pledged, I. i. 128. 
 
 Garnish : Dress, apparel, II. vi. 45. 
 
 Gear : Generally explained as " stuff," " business." " For this gear," 
 i.e., for this business, or matter, I. i. no and II. ii. 174. 
 A. S. gearwe, preparation, dress. Comp., for this latter 
 sense, 
 
 Disguised like Muscovites in shapeless gear. 
 
 Love's Labor's Lost, V. ii. 303. 
 
 The preparation of a warrior in the Middle Ages must 
 have been attended with a good deal of " business " or 
 169 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 " fuss," considering the complicated harness, tackle, and 
 suits of mail in which the men of those times were im- 
 prisoned. Perhaps the modern " business," in the expres- 
 sion " What's all this business about ? " is an equivalent. 
 One can easily imagine an Elizabethan asking " What's all 
 this ' gear ' about ? " and it is also remarkable that the 
 word is generally used to denote disorder, or fussy ac- 
 tivity, especially that kind consequent upon elaborate 
 preparation. Words like this, however, can never be sat- 
 isfactorily explained; and so it is wise to content one's 
 self with a feeling for its meaning, depending upon its 
 context for illumination rather than seeking to guess a 
 meaning into it, or to force Shakespeare's use of the 
 word to conform to that of Early English writers. When 
 we consider the fact that words and phrases which have 
 originated within the memory of living men cannot be 
 satisfactorily accounted for (e.g., " flat," an apartment ; 
 " at that," a phrase which is gaining in use, and which is 
 grammatically inexplicable) it becomes at once apparent 
 that great care and diffidence must be exercised in the 
 explanation of words of other times, especially when their 
 meaning is at all nebulous, or their ideas indeterminate, 
 
 Good: Solvent, I. iii. 12. This special meaning of the word is 
 still in use. Comp., He is perfectly good, that is, trust- 
 worthy, reliable, in a business sense. 
 
 Governed : Inhabited, dwelt in, in the same sense that the spirit 
 of man is said to govern the body, IV. i. 133. It was an 
 old-time superstition that the spirit of sorcerers could 
 inhabit the bodies of animals. 
 
 Gramercy : (inter.) "Much obliged 1 " II. ii. 126. Fr. grand 
 merci, " thanks 1 ". 
 
 Gross: (i) The sum, the whole, I. iii. 56. 
 
 170 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Gross : (2) " To term in gross," to conclude, state broadly, sum 
 
 up, III. ii. 159. 
 Guarded : trimmed, decorated, II. ii. 162. Comp., In a long 
 
 motley coat, guarded with yellow. — Henry Vlll., Prologue. 
 
 H. 
 
 Habit: Demeanor, behavior, II. ii. 201, 
 
 Heaviness : Melancholy, sadness, II. viii. 52. 
 
 High-Day : Holiday, II. ix. 98. 
 
 High-Top : The highest yard-arm of a ship, I. i. 28. This yard- 
 arm, dangling from the mast of a vessel lying on its side 
 in the sands, would actually be lower, at the end, than the 
 greater part of the vessel's hull. 
 
 Hip : " To catch upon the hip," to have at an advantage, I. iii. 47. 
 A figure taken from the sport of wrestling, wherein to 
 catch one's adversary upon the hip is to have him in one's 
 power, and to be able to throw him. 
 
 Hovel-Post : A post supporting a hut, or small outhouse, II. ii. 70. 
 
 Humility: Kindness, charity. III. i. 72. — Lat. humilis, lit, 
 " near the ground," hence, belonging to humanity, and 
 so, kindness, charity. 
 
 Husbandry : Management, care, stewardship, III. iv. 25. 
 
 I. 
 
 Imagined : Imaginable, III. iv. 52. 
 
 Impertinent : A blunder of Launcelot for pertinent, apposite, II. 
 
 ii. 144. 
 Imposition: (i) Duty, task imposed. III. iv. 33 ; (2) Unalterable 
 
 disposition, or arrangement, I. ii. 114. Lat. impositus, lit., 
 
 "laid on," hence, obligatory; Lat. imponere, "to lay, or 
 
 place on." 
 Incarnal : Launcelot's blunder for incarnate ; II. il 29. 
 171 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Indirectly : Directly, II. ii. 45 ; Launcelot here uses the wrong 
 
 word willfully to confuse his father. 
 Infection: Desire, II. ii. 131. 
 Insculpt : Carved in relief, II. vii. 57. 
 Iwis : Certainly, II. ix. 68. Erroneously taken to mean " I wis," 
 
 — i.e., I know, but really M. E. ywis, surely, certainly ; 
 
 A. S. gewis, certain. Coleridge, Byron, and other poets, 
 
 have mistaken this adverb for a phrase. 
 
 J. 
 
 Jacks: Used contemptuously for "fellows," III. iv. 77. 
 
 Jump : (vb.) " jump with," be hke, agree with, II. ix. 32. Comp., 
 Both our inventions meet and jump in one. — Tam. of the 
 Shr., I. i. 295. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kept : Dwelt, lived. III. iii. 19. Ultimately from A. S. ceap, — to 
 traffic, bargain, and hence, to come frequently into contact 
 with, and so, dwell with. This A. S. word, however, is 
 said to be derived from the Lat. Comp., caudo, a huckster. 
 
 Knapped : " Knapped ginger," ginger nibbled, or broken off, in 
 small pieces ; III. i. 10. Comp. Dut. knabben, to bite or 
 snap off. 
 
 L. 
 
 Level : (vb.) Aim, in the sense of " guess at," I. ii. 42. 
 
 Liberal: (adj.) Free, to the point of impertinence; II. ii, 195. 
 Comp. " To make too free," i.e., be impudently familiar. 
 
 Livings: Property, possessions, III. ii. 157. Comp., where my 
 land and livi^tg lies. Wint. Tale, IV. iii. 104. 
 
 Low: Used here, perhaps, in the sense of base, I. iii. 44. 
 
 " Humble," the definition sometimes given, fails to express 
 
 the contempt which lurks in Shylock's words. He classes 
 
 Antonio with the ignorant masses who, in Shakespeare's 
 
 172 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 time, regarded the taking of interest as sinful, and he 
 seems to use " low " in the sense of ignorant, foolish. 
 
 M. 
 Magnificoes : A title of respect given to Venetian gentlemen of 
 
 of rank. III. ii. 276. — Lat. magnijicus, great, grand, 
 
 illustrious. 
 Manage : (n.) Management, III. iv, 25. 
 Marry : (inter.) An abbreviation of the expression, " by Mary " 
 
 (by our Lady), II. ii. 44. 
 Mart : A contraction of market, III. i. 48. 
 Martlet : A kind of swallow, a martin, II. ix. 28. 
 Mean: (i) Common, base, I. ii. 7. M. E. mette, base, poor: 
 
 The meiie and the riche. — Piers Plowman, prol. 1. 18. 
 
 A. S. gemoene, common, general. 
 Mean : (2) Between, in an intermediate state, I. ii. 8. Fr. moyen, 
 
 mean, intermediate; Lat. medianus, niedius, middle, inter- 
 mediate. 
 Mere: "Mere enemy," absolute enemy. III. ii. 258. Comp., 
 
 The mere perdition of the Turkish fleet. Oth. II. ii. 3. 
 Moe : More, II. vi. 50. Frequent in Shakespeare. " The mod. E. 
 
 more does duty for two M. E. words which were generally 
 
 well distinguished, viz., mo and more, the former relating 
 
 to number, the latter to size." — Skeat. 
 Moiety; A little, a portion, IV. i. 26. Fr. moitie, a part, or 
 
 half part. Shakespeare so uses it in All's Well, III. 
 
 ii. 69. 
 Mutual : General, V. i. 77. The proper sense is reciprocal ; — 
 
 Lat. viutare, to exchange. 
 
 N. 
 Narrow : (adj.) " narrow seas," the English Channel, III. i. 4. 
 Naughty : (adj.) Not mischievious merely, but good-for-nothing, 
 
 173 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 wicked, III. ii. i8 ; III. iii. 9. Comp., IVkile he lives upon 
 this naughty earth. ^Yi&^. VIII., V. i. 139. 
 
 Nice: Fastidious, II. i. 14. 
 
 Nominated : Expressed, stated, I. iii. 145 ; IV. i. 258. 
 
 O. 
 
 Obliged : Bound, pledged, II. vi., 7. 
 
 Occasions : " to your occasions," to whatever needs may arise, 
 
 I. i. 137. Also, " quarrelling with occasion," III. v. 52, 
 which may mean, quarreling with every trifling or casual 
 remark (with whatever happens to be said) or quarreling, 
 i.e., arguing irrelevantly, by making remarks having no 
 bearing upon the subject in hand. " Occasion " is here 
 used for the subject of the conversation (that which hap- 
 pens to be under discussion), and Launcelot's remarks are 
 so far off the point that they may truly be said to be at 
 enemity with relevancy. 
 
 O'er-looked : Charmed, bewitched. III. ii. 15. 
 
 Of : About, I. iii. 54 ; on, I. ii. 86 ; with, II. iv. 23. 
 
 Offend'st : Injurest, vexest, IV. i. 139. Used in its literal sense ; 
 
 — Lat. offendere, to hurt, injure. 
 Opinion: Reputation, I. i. 91. 
 Ostent : Appearance, mien, II. ii. 207. 
 Outdwells : Out-lingers, outstays, II. vi. 3. 
 Overname : Repeat their names, run them over, I. ii. 40. 
 Overweathered : Buffeted by the elements, weather-beaten, 
 
 II. vi. 18. 
 
 P. 
 
 Pageants: Spectacles, shows, I. i. 11. The word pageant ori- 
 ginally meant " a movable scaffold," or portable stage on 
 which the old plays called " mysteries " were represented. 
 Later, the meaning was transferred to the spectacle itself. 
 Lat. pagina^ a stage, platform. 
 
 174 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Pain: "Take pain " = care, pains, II. i. 195. As painfulness 
 was frequently used in the sense of carefulness, so pain 
 was used in the sense of care. 
 
 Parcel: Lot, company, I. ii. 118. 
 
 Parts : Duties, tasks, IV. i. 91. — IjaX. partem, ace. oi pars, a part, 
 something set aside ; hence, an assigned task, or function. 
 
 Passion: Vehement outcry, II. viii. 12. 
 
 Patch : Fool, II. v. 46. The costume of the court-fool, or jester, 
 was made of pieces or patches of divers colors, sewn 
 together; and as this dress was characteristic of profes- 
 sional fools, it was only natural that the distinctive pecu- 
 liarity of the clown's garb should come to be used as a 
 nickname for simpletons and fools in general. 
 
 Pawned : Pledged, staked. III. v. 79. Yx. pan, a piece of cloth : 
 Lat. paunus, a rag, piece of cloth. It came to be em- 
 ployed in this sense because a piece of cloth, or article 
 of wearing apparel, was the easiest thing to lay hands 
 on, and the most convenient to carry to the pawn- 
 broker's. 
 
 Patines : The golden plate used for the blessed bread in the 
 Eucharist (the Lord's Supper), V. i. 59. Some would 
 read " patterns," but so commonplace a word is not in 
 harmony with the beauty of the passage. It is more 
 probable, as Furness suggests (Variorum Shakespeare) 
 that " patines " refers to the exquisite cirrus clouds so 
 often seen on calm moonlight nights, and which cause the 
 heavens to seem actually inlaid with mosaics of sober 
 gold. The stars on a bright moonlight night are certainly 
 too pale to be compared to disks of bright gold. 
 
 Peize : Balance, weight, hence, to draw out the time by holding 
 it, as it were, in suspense. III. ii. 22. 
 
 t*ent-house : A projecting roof, a porch, II. vi. i. O. Fr. apendre, 
 
 175 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 to belong to, or be added to : Lat. ad, to, and pendere, 
 to hang; hence, a pent-house is a structure appended to 
 another, and in this sense an outhouse. 
 
 Pied : Covered with spots, I. iii. 80. 
 
 PilPd: " pill'd me certain wands." Peeled off the bark in 
 strips, I. iii. 82. M. E. pillen, to peel. The word, how- 
 ever, comes from O. Fr. piler, to plunder, and was taken 
 erroneously to mean " peel," " strip." The true French 
 form is peler, to strip, unskin ; Ital. pellare, to unskin ; 
 Lat. pellis, the skin. 
 
 Port: (i) Appearance, mode of living, I. i. 122. 
 
 Port: (2) Rank, importance, III. ii. 277. 
 
 Possessed : Informed, I. iii. 65. Comp., Possess the people in 
 Messitiia how innocent she died. Much Ado, V. i. 290. 
 Possess us, tell us something of kim. — Twel. Night, 
 II. iii. 149. 
 
 Post: Postman, messenger, II. ix. 100. 
 
 Posy: A motto, short verse, V. i. 148. Contracted from poesy. 
 It was, at one time, the fashion to cut mottoes on rings 
 and knives, and as these mottoes were usually in verse, 
 they were called " cutler's poesy." At a later day, any 
 short inscription was known as " a posy." 
 
 Power: Authority, IV. i. 103. 
 
 Preferred: Spoken well of, recommended, II. ii. 153, 
 
 Presence : Air, mien. III. ii. 54. Comp., Show a fair presence 
 and put off these frowns. Romeo and Juliet, I. v. 75. 
 
 Presently: Instantly, immediately, I. i. 181. 
 
 Prest: Ready, prepared, I. i. 158. Prest, or pressed, in its 
 modern sense, is a corruption of this old word " prest," 
 ready. The money given to a recruit was called "prest- 
 money," i.e., ready money. "To take the shilling" is, in 
 England, equivalent to becoming a soldier, and as, from 
 176 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 time to time, the English government had occasion to 
 force its shillings or " prest-money " upon unwilling re- 
 cruits, and to compel many of its subjects to enter service 
 by means of the notorious " press-gang," the word press 
 naturally came to be associated, in the popular mind, with 
 the idea of forceful coercion. — O. Fr. prest, prompt, ready ; 
 
 — Lat. praestare, to stand by, be ready. Comp., 
 
 Behold the wicked bend their bows 
 And make their arrows prest. 
 
 Ps. II. 
 
 Prevented: Anticipated, I. i. 6i. — O. ¥r. prevenir, to forestall; 
 
 — Lat. prae, before, and venire, to go or come. 
 Proper: Handsome, comely, I. ii. 77. M. E. propre, handsome. 
 
 Comp., "propreman," Ancren Riwle, p. 196. — Yx. propre ; 
 
 — Lat. proprius, one's own, belonging to, and hence, suit- 
 able, fit, and so, comely, handsome. 
 
 Q. 
 
 Qualify ; Moderate, change, IV. i. 7. 
 
 Quaint : Fine, clever, pretty. III. iv. 69. Comp., To show how 
 
 quaint an orator you are. Hen. VI. (Part 2), III. ii. 74. 
 Quaintly : Elegantly, gracefully, II. iv. 6. 
 Question: (i) (vb.) Reason argue, IV. 1,69. Comp., 
 
 Let your reasoit with your cholor question 
 What tis you go about. 
 
 Hen. VIII., I. I. 130. 
 
 Question: (2) (n.) Discourse, debate, IV. i. 171. Comp., / wj^/ 
 the duke yesterday and had much question with him. As 
 You Like it. III. iv. 39. 
 
 Quit : Remit, IV. i. 380. 
 
 Ra 
 
 Racked : Stretched, as on a rack, I. i. 179. 
 
 177 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Raise the waters: Make a storm, II. ii. 51. Comp., "Raise the 
 
 roof ; " " raise the dead," etc. 
 Reasoned : Talked with, conversed with, II. viii. 27. Comp., 
 
 / am not very sick, since I can reason of it. 
 
 Cymbeline, IV. ii. 14. 
 
 Cp., also, modern Italian raggionare, to converse, talk. 
 
 Redoubted: Dreaded, terrible, III. ii. 88. Also used frequently 
 by Shakespeare as a form of great respect. Comp., My 
 most redoubted Lord, Richard II., III. iii. 198. 
 
 Regreets : Greetings, II. ix. 89. 
 
 Relation : " Hath full relation," i.e., is in every way applicable, 
 IV. i. 247. 
 
 Remorse: Pity, compassion, IV. i. 20. Comp., The tears of 
 soft remorse, King John, IV. iii. 50. 
 
 Repent : Regret, IV. i. 277. 
 
 Reproach : Used by Launcelot for " approach," II. v. 20. 
 
 Respect : " Respect upon," i.e., regard for, I. i. 74. — Fr. respect. 
 — Lat. respectus, p.p. of respicere, to look upon, regard 
 closely. Lat. re, again (in the sense of thoroughly), and 
 spicere, to spy into. Compare this passage with W Drds- 
 worth's sonnet beginning. 
 
 The world is too much with us, late or soon. 
 Getting or spending we lay waste our powers, etc. 
 
 Respect : Attention, fitness to circumstance, V. i. 99. The music 
 which Portia might not notice by day, seems now a part 
 of the loveliness about her, and commands attention. 
 
 Respective: Regardful, mindful, V. i. 156. 
 
 Rest: "Set up my rest," equivalent to. "I am determined;" 
 " I have made choice or decision," II. ii. 108. A phrase 
 taken from a game of cards known as primero, wherein 
 178 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 resto meant bet, or wager. To put up a bet is a quiet but 
 thoroughly adequate way of expressing one's choice or 
 decision. Comp., our saying, " money talks," " I'm down 
 on him," etc., as picturesque declarations of preference, 
 behef, or choice in any person or event. 
 
 Rib: Shut in, inclose, II. vii. 51. 
 
 Ripe : " ripe wants " = wants come to maturity, and therefore 
 urgent, importunate, I. iii. 64, 
 
 Riping: "Stay the very riping of the time;" riping, i.e., until 
 you are fully satisfied, until your scheme bear harvest, 
 II. viii. 40. 
 
 Roads: Anchorages, I. i. 19. In the singular it means, port, 
 harbor, as in V. i. 271. 
 
 S. 
 
 Sabbath : King, or Lord, of hosts, IV. i, 36. — Heb. tsevaoth, 
 hosts, pi. of tsava, an army. 
 
 Sad : " sad ostent," grave or sober demeanor, II. ii. 207. 
 
 Sand-blind: Half-blind, II. ii. 37. — A. S. Sam, half, Comp., 
 semi. 
 
 Scarfed: Bedecked with flags, II. vi. 15. 
 
 Scrubbed : Undergrown, in the sense of contemptible, insig- 
 nificant, V. i. 162. "The Norwegian skrubb means a 
 scrubbing-brush ; and scrubba is a name for the dwarf 
 cornel tree, answering to English shrub, A. S. scrobb, 
 a shrub." Skeat. Comp., " a scrub game," " scrub 
 players," etc. 
 
 Self: Same, I. i. 146. Comp., I am made 0/ that self metal 
 that my sister is. Lear, I. i. 71. So in Chaucer, right 
 in the self place. Cant. T., II. 706. This use of the word 
 is found even as late as Dryden's time. 
 
 Sense : Reason, V. i. 136. 
 
 Sensible : (i) Apparent, evident, II. ix. 89. 
 179 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Sensible : (2) Touching, affecting, II. viii. 48. 
 
 Sentences ; Sayings, opinions, I. ii. 11. — Fr. sentence, an opinion ; 
 
 — Lat. senteiitia, a sentiment, pithy saying. 
 Should : Would, I. ii. 100. 
 Shows: Appearances, II. vii. 20. 
 Shrewd ; Evil, causing sorrow. III. ii. 239. M. E. shrewed, bad, 
 
 evil. Comp., For where is envy and stryf there is unstid- 
 
 fastness and al schrewid werk (evil-doing). N. T., James 
 
 III. 16. Wycklif trans. 
 Shrive: "shrive me" i.e., "be my confessor ;"" Impose some 
 
 penance on me," I. ii. 143. 
 Single : " Your single (personal) bond," bond without securitieSi 
 
 I. iii. 141. And see note. 
 Skipping : Light, frivolous, II. ii. 197. 
 
 Slubber: To hurry over, perform carelessly, II. viii. 39. Comp. 
 
 Dut. slobberot, to lick or slop up, which involves the 
 
 idea of haste ; also the saying, " A lick and a promise." 
 Smug : Fine, in the sense of showy, self-important. III. i. 48. 
 
 Comp. Dan. " Det smiikke Hon" " the fair sex." See 
 
 Skeat, Ety. Diet. 
 So: if so be, provided that. III. ii. 196. 
 Sola, sola : Launcelot is mimicking the horn of a courier or 
 
 postman, V. i. 39. 
 Something: (adv.) Somewhat, I. i. 122. 
 Sonties : Saints, II. ii. 47. 
 Sophy : A title given to the Emperor of Persia. The original 
 
 signification was " wise," " learned ; " Grk., So/os, wise, 
 
 II. i. 25. 
 
 Sore : Sorely, V. i. 288. 
 Sort: (i) (vb.) Arrange, dispose, V. i. 132. 
 Sort : (2) (n.) " some other sort " — " some other means," manner. 
 I. ii. 114. Some editors interpret this as " lot, fortune," 
 180 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 which is the radical sense of sort ; (Lat. sors, a lot, 
 fortune), but it is hardly likely that Nerissa would admit 
 of any other destiny or lot save the one prepared for 
 Portia by her ever-virtuous father, whom Nerissa regarded 
 as inspired. Comp., to teach you gamut in a briefer sort. 
 Tarn, of the Shr., III. i. 67. Express yourself in a more 
 comfortable sort. Coriolanus, I. iii. 2, 
 
 Sped : Undone, II. ix. 72. 
 
 Spend : Waste, I. i. 151. A contraction of the Low Lat. word 
 dispendere, to consume, waste. 
 
 Squandered : " squandered abroad," scattered abroad, I. iii. 22. 
 Still used, says Haliwell, in Warwickshire : " His family 
 are all grown up and squandered about the countty." 
 
 Starved : Deadly (A. S. steorfan, to die), but here it probably 
 means fierce, like the desire of a famished wolf for food, 
 IV. i. 137. Comp., From beds of raging fire to starve in 
 ice. — Par. Lost, Book II. 600. 
 
 Stead : Help, I. iii. 7. 
 
 Still: Always, continually, I. i. 17; I. i. 134, Comp., Thou 
 still hast been the father of good news. — Ham., II. ii. 42. 
 he is a wise fellow, daughter, a very wise fellow, for he is 
 still just of my opinion. — Marston's Parisitaster and 
 Malcontent. 
 
 Stockish : Insensible, brutal, V. i. 81. 
 
 Stomachs : Appetites, III. v. 45. 
 
 Strained: Forced (in answer to Shylock's question, "On what 
 compulsion must I ? "), IV. i. 183. 
 
 Straight : Immediately, I. iii. 170 ; II. ix. i. 
 
 Strange: Unneighborly, unfriendly, I. i. 67. 
 
 Substance : " in the substance " = in the mass, gross weight, 
 IV. i. 327. 
 
 Suited : (i) Dressed, I. IL 79. — Fr. suite, — Lat. secta, a following. 
 181 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 In Low Lat. it came to mean " a series," " a set," and 
 
 finally a suit of clothes. 
 Suited : (2) Arranged, matched, III. v. 62. 
 Supposed: False, III. ii. 94. Comp., Let t/ie supposed /atries 
 
 pinch him. Merry Wives, IV. i. 61. 
 Supposition : " in supposition " = only assumed, not certain, 
 
 being subject to all the perils of the sea, I. iii. 18. 
 
 T. 
 
 Table: Palm of the hand, II. ii. 165. 
 
 Tall: Strong, large. III. i. 6. Comp., Yon tall anchoring bark. 
 
 K. Lear, IV. vi. 18. 
 Tenour: Subject, purport, IV. i. 234. M. E. ^^w^^wr, — Yr.teneur, 
 
 " the tenor, content, stuffe, or substance of a matter." 
 
 COTGRAVE. 
 
 Thought : Care, anxiety, I. i. 36. Comp., Take no thought for 
 
 the morrow. Matt. vi. 34. 
 Think : Imagine, fancy, IV. i. 69. 
 Thrift: (i) Prosperity, success, I. i. 173. 
 Thrift: (2) Gains, profits, I. iii. 51. 
 Time : Youth, I. i. 127. Comp. our sayings, " A good one in his 
 
 time," " A beauty in her day," etc. 
 Tranect : Perhaps a corruption of the French traject (Italian 
 
 traghetto), a ferry. III. iv. 53. See note. 
 Tricksy: Tricky, in our sense of the word "smart," III. v. 66. 
 Truth : Honesty, fair play, IV. i. 213. 
 Tucket: A flourish on a trumpet, V. i. 122. — Ital, toccata, a 
 
 prelude (to music). 
 
 U. 
 
 Undervalued : " nothing undervalued," in no way inferior to, 
 
 I. i. 163. 
 Unfurnished: Unmated, wanting its fellow. III. ii. 126. 
 182 
 
 i 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 Untread : Go over again, retrace, II. vi. lO. 
 
 Unthrift : Worthless, V. i. i6. 
 
 Usance : Exorbitant interest for the use of money, I. iii. 46. 
 
 Use : " in use " = to have the interest of ; perhaps to have in 
 trust, though the former seems to be the more likely 
 meaning, IV. i. 382. 
 
 Uttermost : " of my uttermost," that is, " of my uttermost means,* 
 I. i. 154. Adjectives as nouns are frequent in Shake- 
 speare. Comp., — 
 
 'Ti'j not enough to help theit(h\eup, 
 But to support hhn after. 
 
 Timon of Athens, I. i. 107. 
 A sudden pale usurps her cheek, Venus and Adonis, 1. 589. 
 
 V. 
 
 Villain: " the villain Jew," i.e., contemptible Jew, II. viii. 4. This 
 is the old meaning of the word : — O. Fr. vilein, base, ser- 
 vile ; — Low Lat. vilianus, a serf, farm-hand ; a clown, 
 paltry fellow. 
 
 Vailing : Lowering, I. i. 28. Comp., 
 
 Do not forever with thy veiled lids 
 Seek for thy noble father in the dust. 
 
 Ham. I. il 70. 
 
 Vantage: Opportunity, III. ii. 175. A form of advantage. 
 
 Varnished : Painted, II. v. -^t,- 
 
 Vasty: Immense ; vast, II. vii. 41. 
 
 Very: "very friends " s= true friends, III. ii. 219. Comp., He 
 •was a very perfect gentil knight. — CHAUCER, Cant. Tales. 
 I. 72. " Very charity := true charity, Piers Plowman, book 
 XVII., 289. — O. Fr. verai, — Lat. verus., true. 
 
 Virtue : True value, or worth, V. i. 199. 
 
 183 
 
GLOSSARY 
 w. 
 
 Waft : " waft her love " i.e., beckon to her love, wave to him, V. 
 i. 1 1. Waft is probably another form of wave. 
 
 Warranty: Assurance, guarantee, I. i. 130. 
 
 Wealth : Prosperity, welfare, V. i. 237. A form of weal, well- 
 being, the suffix (th) denoting condition or state of being, 
 as in health, length, mirth, strength, etc. Comp. common- 
 wealth. 
 
 Weather : " builds in the weather " i.e., in the storms, II. ix, 29. 
 
 Where : Whereas, IV. i. 22. 
 
 While: Time, II. i. 31. A. S. hwile, originally a noun denoting 
 time. The genitive whiles occurs in I. ii. 1 47 , Whiles wg 
 shut the gate" during the time that we shut, etc. We still 
 say " all the while," for " all the time." 
 
 Wroth: Sorrow, misery, II. ix. 78. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Younker: a young man, II. vi. 14. Dut. jonker, young lord, 
 young gentleman. 
 
 184 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY. 
 
 A LIST OF IMPORTANT BOOKS AND ARTICLES IN WHICH 
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE IS DISCUSSED. 
 
 t Abbott, E. A. : Shakesperian Grammar. (Macmillan.) 
 t Boas : Shakespeare and his Predecessors. (Scribners.) 
 t Coleridge, S. T. : Lectures on Shakespeare. (Bohn Library.) 
 Cowden-Clarke, Charles : Shakespeare's Characters, chiefly 
 
 those subordinate. 
 Dowden, Edward : A Critical Study of the Mind and Art of 
 Shakespeare. (Macmillan.) t Shakespeare Primer. (Mac- 
 millan.) 
 Elze, Karl : Notes on Elizabethan Dramatists. 
 Goadby, Edwin : The England of Shakespeare. (Cassell.) 
 Hales, J. W. : t Notes and Essays. Article in The Athenaeum 
 
 for December, 1877. 
 Hallam : Introduction to the Literature of Europe, vol. ii., 
 
 chap. vi. 
 Hawkins, Frederick: Shylock and other Stage Jews. The 
 
 Theatre, 1S79. 
 Hazlitt, William : Characters of Shakespeare's Plays. (Bohn.) 
 Heine: Complete Works, vol. v., p. 324. 
 t Jameson, Mrs. Anna : Shakespeare's Heroines, 
 t Lamb, C. : Specimens of English Dramatic Criticism, 
 t Lee, S. L. : The Original Shylock ; Gentleman's Magazine, 
 February, 1880. 
 
 18s 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Moulton : Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist. 
 Neil, S. : Critical Biography of Shakespeare. 
 Schlegel, A. W. : Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature. 
 
 (Bohn Library.) 
 t Snider, D. J. : System of Shakespeare's Dramas ; St. Louis, 
 
 1887, vol. i., p. 305, 
 Stephen, Leslie : Articles in The Dictionary of National 
 
 Biography. 
 Swinburne, A. C. : A Study of Shakespeare, 
 t Symonds, J. A. : Shakespeare's Predecessors in the English 
 
 Drama. 
 Ulrici: Shakespeare's Dramatic Art; vol. ii., p. 121. (Bohn 
 
 Library.) 
 Ward, A. W. : A History of English Dramatic Literature. 
 
 (Macmillan.) 
 
 DICTIONARIES. 
 
 Webster's International, New English Dictionary, edited by D. A. 
 H. Murray, Oxford. Skeat : Etymological Dictionary. 
 Florio : His First Fruite ; World of Wordes. Cotgrove : 
 Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues. Halli- 
 well's Archaic Dictionary. 
 
 186 
 
 267 90 
 

 
 !> ^ 
 
 q, '".To' .0'^ *■ 
 
 .^ . . . 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^^-^K 
 
 
 
 
 <» " • - ^ o'^ . ^ ' • * ^O -A*^ '^ * " *• 
 
 »°-'*, 
 
 %.<•" .*. 
 
 
 v^<=.' 
 
 
 
 
 gJUJUg^^o jP ''J» "^^^^^H^* <^ *^ Deacidified using the Bockkeepor 
 
 .\J|^^^ * - ^ ''ifc. * f^ajj^^ N^ Neutralizing agent: Magnesium O: 
 
 Oxide 
 
 Treatment Date: Feb. 2009 
 
 K J^ ^^k!!'" ^^ «^ *;*4» PreservationTech- ogie: 
 
 
 
 A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PPESERV« 
 111 Thomson Park Drive 
 Cranberry Township, PA 1606J 
 
^^ . <v •-• >s.° % '"' ^^ % "•• 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 ^0^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 .* .^'^^X ''^^^<^ ^^% "-.1^*° .^^'^' 
 
 HECKMAN 
 
 BINDERY INC. 
 
 ^^v JUN 90 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 0014 105 1155