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THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 EDITED 
 
 IVITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, APPENDICES, 
 AND GLOSSARY 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS MARC PARROTT, Ph.D. 
 
 Professor of English in Princeton University 
 
 ■ o ' J 3 i 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 1903 
 
TH£ LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS. 
 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 JUN to 1903 
 
 R Copyright tntry 
 
 CLhSS '^ XXc. No, 
 
 ^ / -^ ^ ^ 
 COPY 8. 
 
 
 Copyright, 1903, 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY. 
 
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 ROBERT DRUMMOND, PRINTER, NEW YORK, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This edition aims first of all by means of the Intro- 
 duction to inform the student of the circumstances 
 under which the Merchant of Venice was written and to 
 show him something of Shakespeare's mastery of his 
 art. Further, it presents, with a few necessary omis- 
 sions, a new and, I trust, an accurate text. The text 
 of the Cambridge edition has been used to print 
 from, but this has been throughout checked and cor- 
 rected by a reference to the original sources. For these 
 I have relied upon Griggs's photographic reproduc- 
 tions of the First and Second Quartos and upon Staun- 
 ton's reprint of the First Folio, with an occasional refer- 
 ence to the copies of the First, Second, and Fourth 
 Folios at present deposited in the Library of Princeton 
 University. As a rule the readings of the Second 
 Quarto have been followed. In the few cases where I 
 have deviated from the old copies it has been with the 
 conviction that I was thereby restoring the true reading. 
 
 The Critical and Explanatory Notes are intended for 
 the young student who is just making acquaintance with 
 the work of Shakespeare. They are, in consequence, 
 detailed and copious. I have, I trust, realized the fu- 
 tility of sending a child in one of our secondary schools 
 
 iii 
 
iv Preface. 
 
 to works of reference which he perhaps cannot and cer- 
 tainly will not consult. In the preparation of these 
 notes I have drawn upon many sources. Chief among 
 these has been that magnificent monument of Ameri- 
 can scholarship, Dr. Furness's Variorum Edition. 
 
 The Textual Notes are intended primarily to justify 
 the text presented in the body of the book. They may 
 also, it is hoped, serve to introduce students of a 
 somewhat more advanced stage to the fascinating sub- 
 ject of Shakespearian text-criticism. In the various 
 appendices matters are touched upon that are of inter- 
 est to all students of the play, but a consideration of 
 which may be profitably postponed to the study of the 
 play itself, for after all "the play's the thing." 
 
 The Glossary is for the most part based upon 
 Schmidt's Shakespeare- Lexicon, supplemented, so far 
 as is possible, by reference to the New English Dic- 
 tionary. 
 
 In conclusion I wish to express my sincere thanks to 
 Mr. D. L. Chambers for his valued assistance in the 
 preparation and in the proof-reading of the text, and 
 to my colleague, Mr. A. W. Long, whose long experi- 
 ence and ripened judgment render him at once a severe 
 and a sympathetic critic of such a work as this. 
 
 T. M. P. 
 
 Princeton University, 
 May 12, 1903. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Introdttction : 
 
 Shakespeare's Early Work ' vii 
 
 The Conspiracy of Dr. Lopez xi 
 
 The Jew of Malta. xvi 
 
 The Sources xx 
 
 Shakespeare's Treatment of the Sources xxvi 
 
 Shakespeare's Characterization xxxiii 
 
 Conclusion xxxix 
 
 The Merchant of Venice i 
 
 Critical and Explanatory Notes 95 
 
 Textual Notes 159 
 
 Appendix A — The Metre 200 
 
 Appendix B — The Sources 205 
 
 Appendix C — The Date , 210 
 
 Appendix D — Topics and Questions 213 
 
 Glossary 216 
 
INTRODUCTON. 
 
 The Merchant of Venice is Shakespeare's first undisputed 
 and original masterpiece. It is, in Dr. Furnivall's phrase, 
 "the first full Shakespeare." Its plot, a combination of 
 romantic incidents found in various old poems and stories, 
 is admirably developed, its character-drawing is clear and 
 effective, and its style, both in prose and verse, is a marvel 
 of beauty, simplicity, and sustained balance between thought 
 and expression such as we look for in vain either in the 
 first or in the last period of Shakespeare's work. It retains 
 to-day all its old effectiveness upon the stage, and even in 
 this country, where Shakespeare's works are so rarely 
 represented, the Merchant of Venice lives in the memories 
 of thousands through the many brilliant performances of 
 Sir Henry Irving and Miss Ellen Terry. It is, therefore, 
 a play peculiarly fitted for the student who is just be- 
 ginning to make acquaintance with the works of Shake- 
 speare; and it is for such a student that this edition is 
 primarily intended. 
 
 I. Shakespeare's Early Work. 
 
 In order to understand the true significance of the 
 Merchant of Venice in the development of Shakespeare's 
 art it is well to look back and see what he had done befgre 
 he turned to the composition of this play, and what the 
 circumstances were under which it was produced. Shake- 
 speare came up to London to seek his fortune in the year 
 
 vii 
 
viii Introduction. 
 
 1586 or 1587, a poor young fellow of twenty-two or twenty - 
 three years of age, but already the father of three children. 
 A tradition, which there is some ground for accepting, tells 
 us that his first occupation in London consisted in holding the 
 horses of the gentlemen who visited "The Theatre," a 
 play-house in the fields outside of London. It was not 
 long, however, before he succeeded in taking a step which 
 definitely determined his future. In 1587 or 1588 he 
 joined Lord Leicester's company of players, probably 
 at first as a 'servitor', that is, as the apprentice and 
 understudy of one of the regular actors. In a short time 
 his charming manners and his talent ^ as an actor won 
 for him a better place in the company. When the 
 theatres were closed on account of the plague in 1592 and 
 Lord Leicester's men went on tour, Shakespeare remained 
 in London and devoted himself to the composition and 
 publication of his poems, Venus and Adonis and The 
 Rape of Lucrece, which were entered on the Stationers' 
 Registers in April 1593 and May 1594 respectively. 
 These poems were received with extraordinary favor by 
 the reading public of that day, and Shakespeare's name, 
 which up to that time was probably known only to regular 
 patrons of the theatre, at once became famous as that of 
 the most delightful of living poets. It may have been, in 
 part at least, on this account that his old company, on 
 returning to London, offered him a regular position in their 
 number. At any rate we find him in the Christmas holidays 
 of 1 594 playing with the leading members of the company— 
 Burbage, the famous tragedian, and Kemp, the greatest 
 comic actor of the day — before Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 Shakespeare had already turned his attention to com- 
 posing as well as to acting plays. It is probable that his 
 
 1 "Myself have seen his demeanor no less civil than he excellent in the quality 
 he professes." Henry Chettle; K,ind Heart' s Preqm, 1593. 
 
Introduction. ix 
 
 first efforts were directed toward the revision of other 
 men's work. Titus Andronicus, for example, is said to 
 represent the work of a 'private author' which received 
 only some master-touches from Shakespeare's hand. This 
 is, to be sure, a disputed point, for some of the most recent 
 critics of this play assign it wholly to Shakespeare. In 
 the first part of King Henry VI, however, we can assert 
 almost positively that Shakespeare's share was confined 
 to the insertion in an old play of some of the more brilliant 
 and poetic scenes.^ In the second and third parts of the 
 sanie play Shakespeare seems to have worked hand in 
 hand with Marlowe in the revision of two older dramas. 
 In Richard III he struck out for himself and, while still 
 working in the style and under the influence of Marlowe, 
 produced a play superior in construction, characterization, 
 and brilliant rhetoric to any work of the older dramatist 
 from whom he had learned so much. Yet his first really 
 independent tragedy, Romeo and Juliet, however successful 
 it may have been upon the stage, can hardly have satisfied 
 his own exacting criticism. Even in the form in which it 
 has come down to us, revised, corrected, and no doubt 
 immensely improved, in later years, it is the most imperfect 
 and uneven of his tragedies. And it may well be that 
 Shakespeare's recognition of this fact led him for a long 
 period of years to renounce this species of dramatic com- 
 position and to devote himself to histories and comedies 
 until his powers had attained their full development. 
 
 In comedy Shakespeare seems from the first to have 
 been more independent and original. It is true that 
 Love's Labour's Lost owes much to the influence of Lyly, 
 and that the Comedy of Errors is in large part an adapta- 
 tion from Plautus. But in both of these plays there 
 is abundant evidence of Shakespeare's brilliant gift for 
 
 ^ I, iv; IV, V, vi, vii; aii4 V, in in part- 
 
X Introduction. 
 
 lively dialogue, amusing action, and graceful poetry; and 
 the Two Gentlemen of Verona, though marred by a hasty 
 and imperfect conclusion, strikes a note which rings through- 
 out Shakespeare's work, that of romantic comedy. The 
 fairy comedy of A Midsummer-Night'' s Dream, probably 
 marks the close of this period of Shakespeare's work, in 
 which, on the whole, his genius as a poet outran his power 
 as a dramatist. 
 
 It must not be forgotten that in these early years of his 
 life in London Shakespeare was but one of a crowd of 
 playwrights who were creating new forms of beauty, 
 mirth, or terror for the English stage. If there were 
 one of these who rose supreme above his fellows, it 
 was not Shakespeare, but that pioneer of the poetic drama 
 and revolutionizer of the Elizabethan stage, Christopher 
 Marlowe. Marlowe's first drama, Tamburlaine, had taken 
 the town by storm ; even the rival playwrights, who envied 
 his success and invented new terms of derision for the 
 daring extravagances of his diction and the sonorous 
 rhythm of his mighty line, were forced despite them- 
 selves to follow in his footsteps and to ape as best they 
 could his superb creations. Shakespeare, we may well 
 believe, was none of these, but a gentle and a grateful 
 disciple. In later years, indeed, when he -had outgrown 
 Marlowe's influence, he was inclined to laugh a little at 
 the portentous bombast that marred much of his master's 
 work. But over against the laugh which Ancient Pistol 
 aroused when he parodied the famous passage about the 
 pampered jades of Asia, we may set the sigh that rose 
 from the hearts of the old lovers of Marlowe at Shake- 
 speare's tender allusion to the dead poet in As You Like It. 
 With the single exception of Romeo and Juliet all Shake- 
 speare's early work in serious dramatic composition, 
 whether tragedy or chronicle play, shows traces more or 
 
Introduction. xi 
 
 less pronounced of the powerful and long-continued in- 
 fluence of Marlowe. 
 
 In June, 1593, however, Marlowe perished in a tavern 
 brawl. We may well imagine the effect of his death upon 
 Shakespeare, and the young poet's silent resolve to rise 
 to the place that Marlowe had left vacant. It was natural, 
 therefore, when the theatres re-opened in January, 1594, 
 and Shakespeare was invited to join the Lord Chamber- 
 lain's men as a playwright and actor, that he should look 
 about him for the subject of a new drama in which he 
 might prove his claim to the vacant throne. Such a 
 subject was soon suggested to him by a series of startling 
 events which roused London to an outburst of fury that 
 found its echo upon the stage of the public theatres. 
 
 II. The Conspiracy of Dr. Lopez. 
 
 It has been generally believed upon the authority of 
 learned historians that the royal decree of Edward I, 
 which banished all Jews from England in 1290, was strictly 
 carried into effect, and that until its repeal, during the 
 Protectorate of Oliver Cromwell, no Jew was permitted 
 to set foot upon English soil. But recent researches have 
 shown that this was by no means the case. A vast number 
 of Jews were, no doubt, expelled from England under 
 Edward I ; but it is quite unlikely that the entire race 
 was weeded out. In Gascony, at least, where a decree of 
 banishment was passed about the same time, Jews are 
 found living undisturbed some thirty years later. In 
 the fifteenth century a Spanish ambassador complained to 
 Henry VII of the presence in London of refugee Jews 
 from Spain in sufficient numbers to warrant their erection 
 of a synagogue. Henry VIII consulted a learned rabbi 
 on the lawfulness of his proposed divorce from Katherine 
 
xii Introduction. 
 
 of Aragon. Elizabeth enrolled a Portuguese Jewess among 
 her waiting-women. Stowe, the old chronicler, notes that 
 Ilounsditch was inhabited by baptised Jews, who, for the 
 most part, plied the business of pawnbroking. And 
 early in the next century a disgusted pamphleteer declares 
 "a great store of Jews have we in England; a few in the 
 Court, many in the city, more in the country." Un- 
 questionably the most distinguished of all his race in 
 England during Elizabeth's reign was the famous Dr. 
 Lopez, her personal physician, and would-be poisoner. 
 
 Roderigo Lopez was a Portuguese Jew who had settled 
 in England in the first year of Elizabeth's reign. He 
 joined the English Church, and rose steadily in prominence 
 as a physician of more than ordinary skill. In 1575 his 
 name appeared almost at the head of a list of London 
 doctors. He attended some of the leading statesmen of 
 England, among others. Lord Leicester in whose service he 
 no doubt became acquainted with Richard Burbage, 
 afterwards the first impersonator of Shylock. In 1584 
 the anonymous Catholic who wrote the savage onslaught 
 on Protestant England known as Leicester's Common- 
 wealth charged Lopez with being a poisoner in the pay 
 of Leicester. Two years later he was appointed physician 
 in chief to Queen Elizabeth, and Francis Bacon, who must 
 often have met him at court, speaks of him as a man "very 
 observant and officious, and of a pleasing and pliable 
 behavior." In 1588 he was appointed interpreter and 
 adviser to Don Antonio, a pretender to the Portuguese 
 throne who had come to London to secure English aid in 
 driving Philip of Spain from Portugal. The Earl of 
 Essex, Elizabeth's latest favorite, the brilliant and ener- 
 getic leader of the war-party in England, eagerly espoused 
 the cause of Don Antonio and induced Lopez to enter into 
 correspondence with certain friends in Spain to secure such 
 
Introduction. xlil 
 
 news of the affairs of that country as might contribute to 
 the success of the project. This entrance of Lopez upon 
 the field of statecraft, crossed as it was in those days by 
 plots and counter-plots, undermined by spies and in- 
 formers, and threatened with dangers of all sorts from 
 loss of royal favor to sudden death, was before long to 
 prove fatal to him. -He quarreled with Essex and revealed, 
 we are told, certain professional secrets which touched 
 the Earl's honor. Essex swore revenge upon the doctor 
 and he was not long in finding an opportunity to fulfil his 
 vow. 
 
 Among the retainers of Don Antonio were a trio of 
 Portuguese gentlemen, who were secretly in communication 
 with the Court of Spain. These wretches hit upon the 
 brilliant idea of bribing Lopez to poison their master, and 
 the Jew seems to have been not altogether unwilling, 
 for he is said to have declared that Don Antonio should die 
 of the first sickness that attacked him. Then the minds 
 of the conspirators turned to higher game. If only Lopez 
 could be induced to poison the Queen herself, Philip of 
 Spain would pay a generous reward, and a liberal com- 
 mission would come into the hands of the go-betweens. 
 By way of a beginning, one of them brought Lopez from 
 Philip a beautiful ring of the value of one hundred guineas. 
 Lopez thanked the giver and sent word that he was ready 
 to serve him in any way. Then he actually presented the 
 ring, as a token of his fidelity, to Elizabeth herself who 
 returned it with gracious words. 
 
 A little later more definite terms began to be discussed 
 among the conspirators. Lopez, they told Philip, would 
 poison Elizabeth for 50,000 crowns — about $500,000 — but 
 he demanded the money in advance. Philip was far too 
 wary to pay so great a sum before the deed was done, but 
 he was willing to turn it over to Lopez in Antwerp where 
 
xlv Introduction. 
 
 he might come and settle with his friends after Elizabeth's 
 death. The negotiations were difficult and protracted, 
 and in the midst of them one of the go-betweens was 
 arrested in England. Lopez incautiously wrote to him; 
 the letter was opened by the police; and in the month 
 of January, 1594 the good town of London was startled 
 by the news that the Queen's famous doctor had been 
 arrested on a charge of high treason. At first, indeed, 
 it seemed as if Lopez would be able to clear himself. 
 There was little evidence against him. The Queen 
 herself believed him innocent and called Essex a "rash 
 and temerarious" youth for bringing such a charge 
 against her trusted servant. Lord Burghley, her chief 
 minister, and his son, who were appointed along with 
 Essex to examine into the matter, were equally sceptical 
 as to the physician's guilt. But when two of the con- 
 spirators who were in the hands of the police denounced 
 Lopez in the hope of saving their own necks, the Jew gave 
 way and admitted that he had been in correspondence with 
 Philip and had offered to poison the Queen ; but he insisted 
 that he had never really meant to do so and had only been 
 planning to cheat the Spanish King of a large sum of 
 money. He was brought up for trial on the last day of 
 February and, after a violent altercation with one of the 
 other conspirators in which Lopez with "blasphemous 
 and horrible execrations" denied that he knew anything 
 at all of such a plot, he broke down completely, admitted 
 his guilt, and signed his own confession; whereupon he 
 was sentenced to be hanged, drawn and quartered as 
 a traitor. 
 
 For some months he remained a prisoner in the Tower. 
 Elizabeth, it would seem, disliked to sign the death warrant 
 of an old and trusted servant. The London populace was 
 naturally much excited, and all sorts of stories were current 
 
Introduction. xv 
 
 In the streets as to the confessions of the prisoners and as 
 to the torture which had been used to extract them. It 
 was commonly reported that Lopez and his fellow criminals 
 had been repeatedly put upon the rack to extort the truth. 
 This, however, seems to be a mistake, as a private letter 
 from Robert Cecil to a friend, written immediately after 
 the trial, declares that Lopez lied when he asserted that 
 his first confession was made to avoid the rack. In prison 
 Lopez retracted his confession and petitioned the Queen 
 for mercy. At one time she seemed inclined to grant it, 
 but she finally yielded to the persuasions of her ministers, 
 all of whom were by this time thoroughly convinced of 
 the Jew's guilt. Early in June the death ./arrant was 
 signed, and Lopez and his two fellow-conspirators were 
 dragged through the streets of London to Tyburn Hill. 
 The wretched doctor attempted on the scaffold to address 
 the crowd, protesting his innocence and declaring that he 
 loved Elizabeth better than he did Christ Jesus. This 
 assertion, coming from a Jew, although one ostensibly 
 professing the Christian religion, was greeted with howls 
 of derision, and Lopez was pushed from the ladder amid 
 the shouts and jeers of an angry mob. He was cut down 
 alive, disembowelled and quartered, and his bloody linibs 
 were exposed as a warning to traitors upon the gates of 
 the city. His goods were confiscated, but a great part 
 of them was returned to his widow by the Queen, who kept 
 for herself, however, the famous ring which had been the 
 first installment of the reward to be paid for her murder. 
 It is easy to imagine to what a pitch of fury the dis- 
 covery of Lopez's plot and the exciting scene of his execu- 
 tion must have fanned the dormant, but ever-present, 
 passion of Anti-Semitism in the hearts of Shakespeare's 
 contemporaries. We must not forget that in those days 
 the Jews were a despised and hated race, not only on 
 
xvl. Introduction. 
 
 account of their religion, but also because of their practice 
 of lending money at interest or usury — the two terms were 
 at that time synonymous. They were generally believed 
 to be guilty of all sorts of hideous crimes, particularly 
 of poisoning, and of the murder of Christian children. 
 The guilt of Lopez seemed to show that even a converted 
 Jew was only too likely to play the traitor to his benefac- 
 tress. The popular drama of the day, in this as in so 
 much else the mirror of popular feeling, reflects the temper 
 of the nation. Dr. Lopez is alluded to in the additions 
 made shortL ' after this time to Marlowe's Dr. Faustus, 
 in Dekker's Whore of Babylon, and even so late as in 
 Middleton's Game of Chess, performed in 1625. The most 
 conspicuous effect of the trial and execution of Lopez, 
 however, is seen in the immediate and successful revival 
 of Marlowe's famous play, the Jew of Malta. 
 
 III. The Jew of Malta. 
 
 This play, the most startling and melodramatic of all 
 Marlowe's works, was, perhaps, the most popular piece 
 of that age. Edward Alleyne, one of the two most famous 
 tragedians of the day, had created the title role, which 
 was reckoned as one of his most successful parts. Accord- 
 ing to Mr. Lee, no play of the time equalled the number 
 of performances recorded for the Jew of Malta. For over 
 a year before the arrest of Lopez it had been withdrawn 
 from the stage, having apparently ceased to attract an 
 audience. Within a week of the Jew's imprisonment, 
 however, Henslowe, the enterprising manager of the 
 Rose Theatre, drew it from the shelf, induced Alleyne 
 to take up the principal part again, and produced the play 
 once more to crowded houses. It was performed fifteen 
 times before the close of the year — an almost unprecedented 
 run for an Elizabethan play — and four times in the month 
 
.Introduction. xvii 
 
 of June which witnessed the execution of Dr. Lopez. 
 There can be no doubt, I think, that this revival was due 
 to the prevaiHng spirit of Anti-Semitism, and, in turn, that 
 the excited play-goer of the day saw in the monstrous 
 figure of the Jew of Malta a prophetic anticipation, and a 
 true picture of the English Jew who had just paid the 
 penalty of his crimes with his life. 
 
 The Jew of Malta is so constantly referred to by Shake- 
 sperian critics and so unmistakably influenced Shake- 
 speare in the composition of the Merchant of Venice that 
 it seems worth while to present here a brief sketch of its 
 story. Barrabas, the villain of the play, is represented 
 as an enormously rich and avaricious merchant in the 
 island of Malta. He scorns the Christians for their pov- 
 erty, and boasts that he is wealthier than any Christian 
 alive. The Knights of St. John, the rulers of the island, 
 are suddenly called upon to pay arrears of tribute to the 
 Turk, and, in order to secure the money, they summon the 
 Jews of Malta and impose upon them a tax of half their 
 property. The only means of escape from this imposition 
 is by a profession of Christianity, and the Jew who will 
 neither pay nor become a convert is threatened with 
 confiscation of all he possesses. As Barrabas refuses 
 either to pay or to change his religion, all his goods are 
 seized and his house is turned into a convent. In order 
 to regain a large hoard of money and precious stones 
 which he has concealed in his house, Barrabas induces 
 his only child, Abigail, to enter the nunnery as a novice. 
 She does so, and at midnight throws down to her father 
 the bags containing the treasures, over which he bursts 
 into an exultant chant of joy. Shortly after she returns 
 to her father, and Barrabas at once begins to plot revenge 
 upon the Christians. 
 
 Abigail has a Christian lover, Don Mathias, whose love 
 
xviii Introduction. 
 
 she returns. By means of forged letters Barrabas en- 
 tangles him in a quarrel with Ludovick the Governor's 
 son, who is also in love with Abigail, and the two kill 
 each other in a duel. Abigail, in despair, enters the nunnery 
 a second time, whereupon Barrabas poisons her and all 
 the nuns with a pot of rice, which he sends to the convent 
 as a gift. With her last breath Abigail reveals to a friar 
 the device by which Barrabas had brought about the 
 deaths of Matthias and Ludovick. In order to extort 
 money from Barrabas this friar goes with a companion to 
 the Jew's house and informs him that he knows of the guilty 
 secret. By a clever trick, however, Barrabas manages 
 to kill one of the friars and get the other hanged as the 
 murderer. 
 
 So far all has gone well with the Jew, but now a Turkish 
 slave, who has been the accomplice of his crimes, deserts 
 him for the sake of a beautiful courtesan and begins to 
 extort money from him by threats. Barrabas disguises 
 himself as a lute-player and appearing at a banquet in 
 the courtesan's house kills her, her bully, and the slave 
 by a means of a poisoned bouquet. Before they die they 
 tell the Governor how his son met his death and Barrabas 
 is seized and threatened with torture. He escapes by 
 taking a drug which throws him into a trance-like sleep, 
 in which state his supposed corpse is thrown outside the 
 city walls. Here he meets the Turkish enemies of Malta 
 to whom he betrays the town. The Turks make him 
 Governor and he now has his enemies in his power. For 
 some wholly inexplicable reason, however, he turns against 
 the Turks and arranges with the Christians to seize the 
 Turkish leader, and to blow up all his soldiers in a monas- 
 tery. The Christians pretend to enter into the scheme, 
 but secretly plot against Barrabas, and at the last moment 
 throw him into a boiling caldron where he perishes shrieking 
 
Introduction. xlx 
 
 out curses upon his eneimes. In the meantime the Turkish 
 soldiers have been blown up, their general is seized and 
 the Christians regain the town. 
 
 Even from so slight a sketch as this it is possible to 
 get some idea of Marlowe's play. It was a tragedy of 
 blood of the kind so popular when Shakespeare was just 
 beginning his work as a dramatist. The central figure is 
 hardly so much a man as a monster. It is not merely 
 that he is a villain; he is an unreasonable and incom- 
 prehensible villain. But what can be expected of a 
 character who favors the andience with the following 
 autobiographical details : 
 
 As for myself I walk abroad o' nights 
 And kill sick people groaning under walls, 
 Sometimes I go about and poison wells. 
 
 Being young I studied physic and_began 
 To practice first upon the Italian; 
 There I enriched the priests with burials. 
 
 And after that I was an engineer 
 And in the wars 'twixt France and Germany 
 Under pretence of helping Charles the Fifth, 
 Slew friend and enemy with my strategems. 
 
 Then after that I was a usurer, 
 
 And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting. 
 
 And tricks belonging unto brokery, 
 
 I filled the jails with bankrupts in a year. 
 
 And with young orphans planted hospitals ; 
 
 And every morn made some or other mad, 
 
 And now and then one hang himself for grief. 
 
 In spite of some magnificent outbursts of poetry, the 
 whole tone of the play, and in particular the treatment of 
 its central character, must have been utterly abhorrent to 
 such a mind as Shakespeare's, 
 
XX Introduction. 
 
 And here we may, I think, get a cltie as to the trtie 
 origin of the Merchant of Venice. Mr. Lee is, no doubt, 
 too hasty in speaking of Dr. Lopez as the original of Shylock. 
 The points of direct connection between the two are, as he 
 himself acknowledges, very slight. And it would be 
 absurd to say that the Merchant of Venice is in any sense 
 an imitation of the Jew of Malta. But what could be 
 more likely than that Shakespeare, the practical play- 
 wright, forced by the necessity of his profession to select 
 a theme which would attract popular interest, should, in 
 the spring or summer of 1594, while all the town was 
 ringing with the treason of Lopez and revelling in the 
 horrors of the Jew of Malta, have himself resolved to write 
 a play in which a Jew should be the central figure. This 
 figure had, of course, to be a villain. It would have been 
 impossible in that age and at such a time to have pre- 
 sented a noble and long-suffering Jew as the hero of a 
 popular play. But when Shakespeare began to work upon 
 this figure, whom in exact accordance with popular tradi- 
 tion he conceived as a usurer and a miser, cruel and re- 
 vengeful, his own deep insight into the soul of man forced 
 him to explain and interpret the character, to show how 
 heredity and environment had contributed to make him 
 what he was, to assign strong and weighty motives for his 
 passion of revenge, in short to portray not a monster, but 
 a man. 
 
 «It is hardly too much to say that the Merchant of Venice, 
 and the character of Shylock in particular, represents a 
 reaction in Shakespeare's artistic conscience against the 
 tradition of Marlowe and his school^/ 
 
 IV. The Sources. 
 
 It is one of the commonplaces of criticism that Shake- 
 speare seldom troubled himself to invent a plot or story. 
 
Introduction. xxi 
 
 His interest as a dramatist lay first of all in his characters ; 
 in their development and mutual interaction. It seems 
 to have been his practice when preparing to produce a new 
 drama to turn over the old manuscripts of plays belonging 
 to his company, to take up some story translated from 
 the French or Italian novelists, or to fasten upon the 
 reign of some king as related by the standard chroniclers. 
 From one of these sources he selected such a tale as would 
 permit the development of the characters he had in mind 
 at the time; and in his dramatization of the material he 
 often kept the story almost intact, omitting only such 
 incidents as were unsuitable to stage representation and 
 adding such as rendered the story more effective upon 
 the stage. On the other hand the characters of the story 
 were, as a rule, so transformed under his hand in the process 
 of dramatization that in many cases they retained in the 
 finished play little but the name and the dramatic envi- 
 ronment that was originally theirs. Thus Shakespeare's 
 Hamlet, Macbeth, and Lear, bear little or no resemblance 
 to their originals in the novel, the history, and the old 
 play on which the tragedies that bear their names are 
 based. 
 
 It is generally supposed that an old play called The Jew 
 served Shakespeare as the source from which he drew the 
 story of the Merchant of Venice. Unfortunately the play 
 in question is lost, and all we know of it is found in a 
 very brief contemporary description. Stephen Gosson, an 
 Oxford man, who had himself written several plays, 
 published in 1579 a fierce attack upon the theatre en- 
 titled The School of Abuse, in which he denounced the 
 drama of the time as responsible for all sorts of evils. 
 Some few plays, however, he excepted from this general 
 condemnation; and among these was The Jew, "represent- 
 ing the greediness of worldly chusers and the bloody 
 
xxii. Introduction. 
 
 minds of usurers." This is not a very detailed descrip- 
 tion, but at least we learn from it that the chief character 
 of the lost play, the character from whom it took its 
 name, was a Jew and a bloody-minded usurer. So much 
 the last phrase tells us. It is generally assumed that the 
 preceding words, "the greediness of worldly chusers," 
 refer to some incident in the play similar to the choice 
 of the caskets in the Merchant of Venice and therefore 
 that in this lost play there were already combined the two 
 main stories of Shakespeare's drama. This assumption 
 seems to me rather doubtful, as I shall attempt a little 
 further on to show. 
 
 Although the play mentioned by Gosson has disap- 
 peared, there exists another source of the Merchant of 
 Venice which deserves careful consideration. This is an 
 Italian tale included in a collection of stories called II 
 Pecorone compiled about 1378 by Giovanni Fiorentino. An 
 abstract of this story is given on pp. 205-208, and it needs 
 only a glance to discover in it the original source of the main 
 plot of our play. Here we have the incident of the borrow- 
 ing of a sum of money by a wealthy merchant of Venice to 
 equip a young friend for the courtship of a rich and beauti- 
 ful lady. The lender is a Jew ; the pledge exacted is a pound 
 of flesh. The lover wins his lady; but the merchant fails 
 to pay the sum he had borrowed, and is arrested by the Jew, 
 who claims the forfeiture. The lover returns to Venice and 
 vainly tries to release his friend by paying many times 
 the value of the loan. The lady comes to Venice in the 
 disguise of a lawyer, and undertakes to settle the case. 
 She pronounces the bond legal, but urges the Jew to be 
 merciful. He refuses and she orders him to take his 
 penalty. As he is about to cut the pound of flesh, she bids 
 him, on pain of death, beware of cutting more or less than a 
 pound and of shedding a drop of blood. The Jew then 
 
Introduction. xxiil 
 
 offers to release the merchant for the large sum offered by 
 the friend, but the lady insists that he must either take 
 the forfeiture or cancel his bond. The Jew in a rage 
 tears the bond and the merchant is saved. The friend 
 offers the money to the disguised lady, who refuses it, but 
 begs a ring upon his finger which she herself had given 
 him, and after some hesitation he gives it to her. She 
 hurries away from Venice and reaches her home before 
 him. When he arrives there with his friend, the merchant, 
 she asks for the ring, and feigns great anger against him 
 saying that he had given it to a lady in Venice. After 
 reducing him to the verge of tears, she shows him the ring 
 and explains how she had disguised herself and baffled 
 the Jew. 
 
 The long series of coincidences admits of only one of two 
 conclusions ; either Shakespeare had read the story, or the 
 lost play of The Jew was itself a dramatization thereof, 
 and Shakespeare simply rewrote the play, preserving all 
 the main incidents. Of these two, the latter is the more 
 probable.^ 
 
 Assuming then that The Jew was a dramatization of 
 the story in // Pecorone, is it probable that this play con- 
 tained the second story of the Merchant of Venice, the 
 winning of an heiress by means of a choice between three 
 caskets? Most commentators take this for granted on 
 account of Gosson's statement that The Jew represented 
 
 1 We have no evidence to show that Shakespeare at this time was able to read 
 Italian, though later on he seems to have acquired some knowledge of that 
 anguage. The story may, of course, have been translated into English as so 
 many Italian stories were in Shakespeare's day, but we have no record of any 
 English version earlier than 1755. The simplest solution of the problem seems 
 to be that The Jew was itself a dramatic version of the Italian story. Such 
 dramatizations were frequent all through the period of the Elizabethan drama. 
 Gosson himself had produced a play, Captain Mario, which he calls "a cast 
 of Italian devices." As early as 1566 Gascoigne had translated Ariosto's 
 pleasant comedy 7 Suppositi and the source of Shakespeare's great tragig 
 masterpiece, Othello, is to be found \n an Italian story > 
 
xxiv Introduction. 
 
 the "greediness of worldly chusers." Biit if the supposed 
 casket scenes of the lost play were at all like those of 
 Shakespeare's, the phrase would be singularly inappro- 
 priate. Neither Morocco nor Arragon can properly be 
 called worldly choosers. Their choice of the gold and 
 silver caskets respectively was not inspired by greed; 
 in rank and wealth they were both equal, if not superior, 
 to Portia, and there is not the slightest hint in Shake- 
 speare's play that they sought the fortune rather than the 
 person of the beautiful heiress. Morocco fails because of 
 his superficiality, Arragon because of his self-conceit; 
 neither because of a desire for worldly goods. 
 
 Again if the lost play was a dramatization of the Italian 
 story, it is probable that the unknown author would have 
 held rather closely to his original. Dramatic art in 
 England before 1579 was hardly advanced enough to 
 devise such an ingenious combination of plots as appears 
 in the Merchant of Venice. The device of the caskets 
 is an immense improvement from every point of view, 
 assthetic, dramatic, and moral, over the method by 
 which the lady of Belmont is won in the Italian story; 
 and we have but to turn over the surviving plays of the 
 seventies to be convinced that so early a dramatist as the 
 author of The Jew was almost certainly incapable of 
 making this advance. 
 
 The original of the Casket Story is found in Gesta Ro- 
 manorum, a collection of anecdotes, legends and moral 
 tales compiled toward the end of the Middle Ages. An 
 outline of the story as Shakespeare knew it is given on 
 pp. 208-209. The main point of the story — the winning of 
 a husband by a choice between three caskets of gold, silver, 
 and lead, whose outer appearance belies their contents--^ 
 must have struck Shakespeare's fancy. The mottoes on 
 the caskets, too, attracted his attention. Two of them 
 
Introduction. xxv 
 
 he kept, making only a slight alteration in the second; 
 the third he dropped altogether as giving somewhat too 
 obvious a hint, and substituted for it an inscription of his 
 own invention. 
 
 Both of these stories were creations of the romantic 
 imagination of the Middle Ages. The Bond Story probably 
 had its origin in some legend connected with the old Roman 
 law which permitted the creditors of an insolvent debtor 
 to sell him as a slave and to divide the proceeds. The 
 terms of this law were such that they have been often 
 understood as allowing the creditors to cut the unfortunate 
 debtor to pieces. Whether this was the case or not, how- 
 ever, it is certain that no such penalty was ever enforced 
 in the Italy of the fourteenth, or the England of the six- 
 teenth, century. The readers of // Pecorone therefore, 
 or the spectators of The Jew, knew well enough that the 
 incident of the bond was not a transcript from life, but a 
 romantic tale without a basis of reality, and this is not the 
 only improbable, or impossible, incident of the tale. The 
 intervention of the disguised lady in the trial scene, the 
 quibble by which she rescues the merchant, and the 
 episode of the ring, are simply incredible if we apply to 
 them the tests by which we judge a narrative of events 
 purporting actually to have happened. And the story 
 of the caskets, with its princess who is shipwrecked, 
 swallowed by a whale and carried by the obliging monster 
 to the very land whither she was going, is a fairy story 
 Dure and simple. The story of // Pecorone, offered to 
 Shakespeare, then, a series of entertaining and picturesque 
 incidents, capable, as has already been shown, of dramatic 
 treatment. In particular, it gave him what we may 
 imagine him to have been looking for at that time, the 
 figure of a Jewish usurer who plots against the life of a 
 Christian. The story of the caskets QfTered him a substi- 
 
xxvi Introduction. 
 
 tute for the weakest incident, from a dramatic point of 
 view, in the Italian tale, and three effective scenes. The 
 tone of both stories was decidedly that of comedy rather 
 than of tragedy. The malice of the Jew plays but a 
 small part in the original story, and his character is not 
 even indicated. The author has not even troubled him- 
 self to assign any reason for his determination to exact 
 the penalty of the pound of flesh, other than that he 
 wished to have the satisfaction of saying that he had put 
 to death the greatest of the Christian merchants. But 
 this very absence of characteristic traits left all the more 
 scope for the display of Shakespeare's peculiar gift, his 
 power of creating a personality appropriate to the given 
 environment of a story. 
 
 V. Shakespeare's Treatment of the Sources. 
 
 In his dramatization of his sources Shakespeare set him- 
 self to work, first of all, to . render the story credible. 
 The first incredible incident of the tale is that a merchant, 
 who must have had some knowledge of the ways of Jewish 
 usurers, should have been careless enough to sign the 
 fatal bond. Had he no Christian friends from whom he 
 could borrow, or was there no Jew in Venice ready to lend 
 him the sum at the legal rate of interest? Shakespeare 
 solves this difficulty in a simple, yet quite satisfactory 
 manner. It is not Antonio, but Bassanio who approaches 
 Shylock for the loan; and it does not seem unnatural 
 that a young gentleman of Bassanio 's class should go to a 
 professional money-lender rather than to a merchant for the 
 loan of so comparatively small a sum. After Bassanio 
 has opened the business with Shylock, it is impossible for 
 Antonio to withdraw from it without seeming at once 
 discourteous to his friend and afraid of the Jew. Further^ 
 moVQ the actual signing of the bond is brought about in 
 
Introduction. xxvll 
 
 the most plausible manner. Shylock- and Antonio enter 
 into a hot discussion over the lawfulness of taking interest, 
 the practice which had so often aroused Antonio's anger 
 against the Jew. In the heat of the discussion Antonio's 
 anger breaks out again, and he threatens to renew his 
 former outrageous treatment of Shylock, whereupon the 
 latter with a sudden change of tone implores his friendship, 
 offers to renounce his own conception of what is right, and 
 to lend the money without interest. The offer is so fair 
 that it is quite impossible for Antonio to reject it, and, as 
 to the forfeit of a pound of flesh,, suggested by Shylock 
 apparently as a sort of afterthought, that is a mere nominal 
 penalty, "a merry jest." Antonio could have no reason 
 for suspecting in this offer a plot for his destruction. Even 
 at the eleventh hour it seemed incredible to the Duke and 
 to the whole world of Venice that Shylock could actually 
 intend to exact the forfeiture. And even if Antonio had 
 suspected some such design, he would have felt amply 
 protected against it, since long before the bond fell due he 
 would be in possession of money enough to pay it nine 
 times over. To refuse the offer of Shylock, therefore, 
 would be to show himself timorous, and suspicious, quali- 
 ties utterly alien to his manly and somewhat too generous 
 disposition. In this way Shakespeare has veiled the 
 naked improbability of the original incident with a series 
 of explanations and motives which render it, if not abso- 
 lutely convincing to the realistic critic, at least plausible 
 to the impartial observer. 
 
 The second great improbability in the story is that the 
 bond should have fallen due without Antonio's making an 
 effort to pay it. We may pass over the fact that all his 
 ventures failed, that his argosies from Tripoli, from Mexico, 
 and England, should all be wrecked simultaneously. In 
 Shakespeare's day ships were exposed to perils which we 
 
xxviii Introduction. 
 
 can no longer realize, and shipwrecks were far more com- 
 mon. If a man sailed from London to Constantinople, 
 it was thought safe to bet five to one that he would never 
 return alive. There can hardly have been an English 
 merchant in Shakespeare's audience who did not realize 
 that what happened to Antonio in the play, might at any 
 moment happen to him in stern reality. But why, one 
 asks in amazement, did not Antonio borrow money from 
 some of his many friends to pay the bond when it fell due 
 and so escape Shylock's vengeance? The answer to this 
 question is found in his character. Of a melancholy and 
 somewhat lethargic temperament, his ideal of the ancient 
 Roman honor was one of resignation and passive endur- 
 ance. On the news of his losses, rather than humiliate 
 himself by attempting to negotiate a fresh loan for which 
 he could now offer no security, he quietly withdrew to his 
 house and awaited his arrest. Even in the days of his 
 wealth, when he was surrounded by friends, he had held 
 the world but as a stage where he had a sad part to play. 
 Now he is quite ready to make his exit. He makes no 
 effort to escape his fate and his one wish in life is to see 
 Bassanio once more. It is true that we find him in the 
 third scene of the third act attempting to propitiate 
 Shylock. But this attempt is hardly in keeping with his 
 character, and his effort is so faint-hearted that one is 
 almost disposed to believe that he sought the interview, 
 not of his own accord, but at the urgent desire of his 
 friends that he leave nothing untried to touch the heart of 
 Shylock. 
 
 To us in the twentieth century, perhaps the most 
 improbable part of the whole story is that a Jew should 
 without cause, for cause in the old tale there is none, so 
 obstinately prefer blood to money. To the men of the 
 Middle Ages, to be sure, who were always ready to believe 
 
Introduction. xxlx 
 
 evil of a Jew, the cruelty seemed only what might have 
 been expected from one of his race. But Shakespeare 
 knew better. Whether or not he had any acquaintance 
 with Jews we can not say. He may just possibly have 
 known Lopez himself. At any rate, as he proposed to 
 draw the true picture of a man and not a monstrous 
 caricature of a race-type, he set himself to work to explain 
 the Jew's hatred of Antonio. To explain, not to justify 
 it, for however much modern critics and actors have 
 sought to glorify Shylock as the heroic representative of a 
 martyr-race, we may be sure that no such idea entered 
 Shakespeare's mind. But he knew that a Jew was a man 
 of like passions with ourselves, and to render such a deadly 
 hatred credible, strong motives were needed. Now it 
 would be hard to find in all the catalogue of passions three 
 which would more irresistibly impel a man, Jew or Gentile, 
 to a deed of blood, than religious hatred, avarice and 
 revenge ; and all these three lie at the bottom of Shylock's 
 hatred of Antonio. No sooner does the Jew see the 
 merchant come upon the stage, than he whispers to himself 
 
 "I hate him, for he is a Christian." 
 
 Antonio has repeatedly insulted Shylock's sacred nation, 
 and the Jew repays him with a double portion of hate. 
 Added to this is the motive of avarice. Antonio's practice 
 of lending money without interest naturally tended to 
 bring down the rates of usury in Venice, and on more than 
 one occasion he had intervened to rescue distressed debtors 
 from the clutches of the Jew. "Were he out of Venice," 
 says Shylock to his confidant. Tubal, "I can make what 
 merchandise I will." It is not merely religious hatred, 
 therefore, but also a calculating avarice which urges Shy- 
 lock to strike down his great opponent. Finally, to these 
 motives Shakespeare added that of revenge for personal 
 
XXX Introduction* 
 
 wrongs and indignities. In the Italian story the Jew seems 
 never to have met the merchant before entering into the 
 bond with him. Shylock, on the other hand, has an old 
 grudge and a heavy score against Antonio. The merchant 
 has, to quote the Jew's own words, "disgraced me and 
 hindered me of half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked 
 at my gains, cooled my friends, heated my enemies." 
 He has even ventured on the grossest personal insult, he 
 has spat upon the Jew's beard and kicked him like a dog. 
 Here is reason enough for revenge even before the action 
 of the play begins. But, in order that we may see this 
 passion of revenge growing and dilating to gigantic pro- 
 portions before our very eyes, Shakespeare has added to 
 the story as he found it the episode of Shylock's daughter, 
 her love for a Christian, her elopement, and her robbery of 
 her father. It is not unlikely that this episode was sug- 
 gested to him by the character of Abigail in Marlowe's 
 play. Here, too, the Jew's daughter has a Christian lover 
 and leaves her father to become a Christian. But with 
 this the resemblance ceases. Marlowe's Jew promptly 
 poisons his daughter and all the nuns of her convent. 
 Her flight and his vengeance is a mere incident in his 
 career of crime. But Jessica's flight with her father's 
 gold and jewels plays an important, perhaps the decisive 
 part, in fixing Shylock's resolve to have the heart of his 
 enemy. Before this he might perhaps have allowed his 
 avarice to triumph over his revenge. But after the 
 Christians have stolen his daughter, after that daughter 
 has stolen his money and the very ring her mother gave 
 him when he was a bachelor, he registers an oath of ven- 
 geance in heaven and will not break it for the wealth of 
 Venice. 
 
 One more point which Shakespeare added to the tale has 
 yet to be mentioned. All the old versions of the Bond 
 
Introduction. xxxi 
 
 Story tell how the cruel creditor was baffled by the wise 
 judge who bade him cut his pound of flesh, but forbade 
 him on pain of death to shed a drop of blood. This 
 incident, which satisfied the simple minds of the Middle 
 Ages, was retained by Shakespeare, since to have omitted 
 it would have been to alter an essential feature of the 
 story. But as a solution of the difficulty this incident does 
 not satisfy our minds, and it cannot have satisfied Shake- 
 speare's, for out of the inexhaustible treasury of his genius 
 he added to this and to the other petty evasion about 
 cutting neither more nor less than a pound, Portia's 
 citation of the old law which condemns to death and to 
 confiscation of goods an alien who plots against the life 
 of a Venetian citizen. Here we have a lightning flash 
 of true justice, as different from the legal quibbles of the 
 old tales as day from night. Had Portia rested her decision 
 upon these we feel that a more expert lawyer might have 
 answered and defeated her. But to her citation of the 
 forgotten law there is no possible answer. That Shylock 
 had plotted against Antonio's life was self-evident. His 
 refusal to provide a surgeon was in itself a confession of 
 his desire to kill his enemy. And there is something of the 
 character of divine retribution in the punishment that 
 overtakes Shylock. He had sought to use the law as the 
 instrument of a treacherous murder, and the law is turned 
 against himself and becomes the weapon which strikes 
 him down. The only possible objection that could be 
 made to this addition of Shakespeare's has been stated by 
 a somewhat captious German critic. How was it possible, 
 he asks, that Portia and Portia alone should know of the 
 existence of this law? As if aware beforehand of this 
 objection, Shakespeare guarded against it by his invention 
 of the learned Dr. Bellario, a figure unknown to any earlier 
 version of the story. It is not only possible, but most 
 
xxxii Introduction. 
 
 likely, that this famous jurist should know more of the 
 Venetian laws than the Venetians themselves, and that 
 he should have recalled one so ancient that it had been 
 forgotten by all except himself. Portia's knowledge of 
 this law is, of course, explained by her consultation with 
 Bellario, her friend and kinsman. 
 
 One or two minor changes and additions which Shake- 
 speare has made to the story of // Pecorone might be men- 
 tioned ; but enough has been said to show how he strength- 
 ened and heightened it, and changed it from a wildly 
 romantic tale into a story which fastens upon our minds 
 and compels our belief. 
 
 In his treatment of the Casket Story, too, Shakespeare 
 has done something to make an old tale credible. In the 
 story as it appears in the Gesta Romanorum there is abso- 
 lutely no reason why the princess should be put to the 
 test of the caskets, since she was already betrothed to the 
 Emperor's son. In the play the reason for the test is to 
 secure a fit husband for Portia; and in order to reassure 
 us as to the fitness of the test, it is represented as the death- 
 bed plan of the lady's virtuous father, and "holy men at 
 their death have good inspirations." The conditions 
 surrounding the choice are enough to frighten away the 
 mere fortune-hunter; and the caskets with their mottoes 
 are cunningly devised as tests of character. It is worth 
 noting that Shakespeare altered the inscription of the lead 
 casket. In the old tale it ran: "AVho chooseth me shall 
 find that God hath disposed him." In the play it reads: 
 "Who chooseth me must give and hazard aU he hath." 
 The first is a plain hint as to the contents ; the second is a 
 fair warning over the gate of matrimony. Only he who 
 is ready to give and to risk his all is a true lover and can be a 
 true husband; and it is the only true lover among all 
 Portia's suitors who is guided by his love to read the riddle. 
 
Introduction. xxxlil 
 
 The old meaningless fairy tale has become in Shakespeare's 
 hands a strong and suggestive allegory. 
 
 VI. Shakespeare's Characterization. 
 
 Shakespeare not only altered and improved the story 
 as he found it in his sources, he really created the characters. 
 The author of // Pecorone seems to have been utterly 
 devoid of the power of characterization. The weak and 
 womanish Giannetto of his story sinks into insignificance 
 when compared with Bassanio, the scholar, the soldier, 
 the flower of the youth of Venice; Ansaldo, the loving 
 foster-father of Giannetto, is but a shadow of Antonio; 
 and the lady of Belmont, who drugs her suitors and seizes 
 their money, is a very Circe beside Shakespeare's noble 
 figure of Portia. The greatest character creation in the 
 play is, of course, Shylock. The Jew in the old story is a 
 mere name. We know nothing of his antecedents, of his 
 environment, nor of his character except that he is obsti- 
 nate in his determination to kill the merchant, and eager 
 to make money when he cannot get the pound of flesh. 
 There is nothing characteristically Jewish about him; 
 a cruel usurer of any other race might have played the 
 same part. But we know all about Shylock. 
 
 Touch by touch, with the greatest care and in the most 
 minute detail Shakespeare presents us with a portrait of 
 the man in his habit as he lived. And this portrait is in 
 all its essential details that of a Jew. It has been well 
 said that you might change the nationalities of many of 
 Shakespeare's personages without endangering the inner 
 consistency of their character. Hamlet is not essentially 
 a Dane, nor Macbeth a Scotchman. But we cannot 
 conceive of Shylock as other than a Jew. Not indeed the 
 Jew of to-day as we know him in America or England, 
 where a long period of toleration has gone far to obliterate 
 
xxxiv Introduction. 
 
 the darker features of his racial character, but the Jew 
 of the Middle Ages, made what he was by centuries of 
 bitter persecution. In his good as well as in his evil traits 
 Shylock is a true representative of that despised yet proud 
 race. /His love of "our sacred nation," and his hatred of 
 her oppressors, his strong family affections, shown in his 
 devotion to his dead wife's memory and his outburst of 
 passion at his daughter's flight, his self -righteousness and 
 worship of the letter of the law, his greed of gain, his 
 subtle and intellectual temperament, the fawning treachery 
 by which he lures his enemy into the snare, the relentless 
 olDStinacy with which he pursues his revenge, even the 
 physical cowardice which forbids him to seize a revenge 
 which can only be obtained at the cost of his own life, 
 are all characteristically Jewish features^ His very 
 speech is redolent of the Ghetto ; he invokes a curse upon 
 his tribe if he forgives his enemy, he swears by Jacob's 
 staff and Father Abram, he justifies his usurious practices 
 by the example of Jacob. His cry in the trial scene, 
 "my deeds upon my head," seems like the echo of the 
 terrible imprecation by which the Jews of Christ's day 
 invoked his blood upon their heads and upon their children. 
 In one point, at least, Shylock falls below the standard 
 of his race — his willingness to embrace Christianity in order 
 to save a part of his possessions. No fact in history is 
 better attested by a cloud of witnesses from the days of 
 the Maccabees to the late persecutions in Russia than the 
 readiness of the Jew to die for his religion. Yet there 
 have been, of course, exceptions. In Spain and Portugal 
 during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries thousands of 
 Jews, nominally at least, accepted Christianity. Dr. I^opez 
 himself was a converted Jew. It is hardly fair, therefore, 
 to blame Shakespeare, as has sometimes been done, for 
 making Shylock more cowardly in this respect than so 
 
Introduction. xxxv 
 
 many thousands of his race who preferred death to apostasy. 
 Once more it may be repeated that Shakespeare's purpose 
 was to portray not the Jew, but a Jew, a bad Jew at that, 
 a repulsive, but yet a sympathetic character ; repulsive 
 on account of his evil qualities, sympathetic because of his 
 common humanity. 
 
 One of the means always employed by a great dramatist 
 to bring out and develop the characters of his plays is the 
 principle of contrast. Nowhere is this method used more 
 effectively than in the Merchant of Venice, where the figure 
 of Shylock is thrown into strong relief by the contrasting 
 characters of Antonio and Portia, Antonio has many of 
 the qualities that Shylock lacks, magnanimity, liberality, 
 capacity for friendship. He is fitly called the royal 
 merchant. On the other hand his lofty idealism renders 
 him imprudent in the ordinary affairs of life; and his 
 passivity of character renders him an easy prey to Shy- 
 lock's relentless energy. His treatment of Shylock has 
 been greatly blamed by modern critics and has been 
 attributed to race-hatred ; but it seems rather as if it were 
 due to his detestation of Shylock 's usurious practices. 
 All through the Middle Ages the taking of interest was 
 under the ban of the church. The very law of Queen 
 Elizabeth, which permitted ten per cent, to be taken on a 
 loan, declared ' usury,' that is, interest of any kind, to be 
 a sinful and detestable thing. Shylock himself attributes 
 Antonio's insults to his practice of taking interest, and it 
 seems plain, therefore, that it was not pure Anti-Semitism, 
 but an innate loathing of practices so contrary to public 
 morality as then understood, and so repugnant to his 
 own character, that prompted Antonio's actions. Yet 
 even so we cannot hold him guiltless, and the punishment 
 which comes upon him in the course of the play shows, 
 we may believe, that Shakespeare also held this view. 
 
xxxvi Introduction. 
 
 Portia, one of the most attractive of all Shakespeare's 
 women is a perfect flower of the Italian Renaissance, 
 beautiful, rich, splendor-loving, cultured, and courteous. 
 It would take too long to enter into a detailed analysis of 
 her character ; but two points may be noticed in which she 
 contrasts strongly with Shylock. The first is her attitude 
 toward money. With Shylock money is an end in itself. 
 His whole life, until disturbed by the passion for revenge, 
 is devoted to acquiring wealth. At home he starves his 
 servant and grudges his daughter the pleasure that her 
 youth demands. Portia, on the other hand, regards her 
 inherited fortune simply as a means to an end, the ricK 
 and varied life of the Renaissance. Her home is a palace 
 surrounded by a noble park, she keeps a company of 
 trained ' musicians, she entertains nobles and princes. 
 Yet she is so far from being spoiled by the circumstances 
 of her life that she passes over her princely suitors to 
 bestow her heart upon a bankrupt gentleman and rejoices 
 to strip herself of her fortune in order to bestow it upon 
 her lover. Since money to her is only a means of obtaining 
 happiness she accounts it a mere trifle in comparison with 
 love and friendship, and offers to pay Antonio's debt 
 twenty times over rather than have Bassanio grieve for 
 him. The Socialist might perhaps quarrel with the ac- 
 cumulation of so much wealth in the hands of an individual, 
 even when the individual chances to be a Portia, but most 
 of us will long continue to regard her as Shakespeare's ideal 
 picture of the true relation of man to money. 
 
 Again Portia is shown in strong contrast to Shylock 
 in her conception of law and justice. Shylock is a worship- 
 per of the letter that slayeth ; and his notion of justice is a 
 scrupulous fulfillment of the exact requirements of the 
 law no matter what the consequences may be. Portia, 
 on the other hand, stands as the representative of the 
 
Introduction. xxxvii 
 
 higher justice of the spirit which saveth alive. Her rela- 
 tion to Shylock has been compared to that of Equity to the 
 Common Law: it would be better, I think, to liken it to the 
 relation existing between Judaism and Christianity. The 
 law of the Jews was a written law, exact, formal and 
 precise ; and in the development of Judaism righteousness 
 came to consist in the literal observance of every jot and 
 tittle of the law. This formal righteousness found its 
 complete development in the Pharisees of Christ's day; 
 and it was against this sect above all others that Christ 
 launched his most passionate denunciations. The essence 
 of Christianity, on the other hand, is spiritual. It does 
 not abolish the law, but explains and interprets it in a 
 spiritual sense. The very conception of God changes in 
 the translation from Judaism to Christianity; to the Jew 
 the Almighty was a jealous God visiting the iniquity of 
 the fathers upon the children ; to the Christian God is Love. 
 And as justice was the highest attribute of the Jewish 
 conception of God, so mercy is that of the Christian. 
 Portia's famous address to Shylock is, in fact, an appeal 
 to the Jew to embrace the ideals of Christianity. 
 
 To this view of the relation between the two chief 
 characters of the play, it has been objected that Portia 
 overcomes Shylock not by love, but by insisting, with a 
 vigor equal to his own, upon the letter of the law, and, 
 moreover, that she shows no mercy to the Jew when in her 
 power. These objections are specious but not, I think, 
 well groimded. It is true that the Jew is by a legal quibble 
 forbidden to take his legal penalty on pain of death ; but 
 this is part of the old story which Shakespeare did not 
 invent and could not alter. On the other hand, Shake- 
 speare's own addition to the trial scene is as I have already 
 pointed out, no legal quibble, but a true interpretation of 
 tl'p spirit of the law. In essence, Shylock's bond was 
 
xxxviii Introduction. 
 
 void, because tinder cover of the law he sought to commit 
 a heinous crime. Shakespeare expresses this in dramatic 
 form by Portia's citation of the old law punishing with 
 death and confiscation any attempt upon the part of an 
 alien against the life of a Venetian citizen. 
 
 The second objection is equally unfounded. Portia 
 herself, it is true, extends no direct offer of mercy to 
 Shylock. But such an offer did not lie within her power ; 
 she had simply to announce the penalty. The Duke, 
 however, as the representative of the Christian state of 
 Venice, at once steps into her place and grants the Jew 
 his life even before he asks it. The confiscation of his 
 goods is reduced to an appropriation of one-half of them 
 for the benefit of his daughter; and the obligation which 
 is laid upon him of becoming a Christian was, of course, 
 in that day considered as an act of the highest mercy, 
 since it would result in the salvation of his soul. We 
 must be careful not to attribute to Shakespeare the feelings 
 of our day, and speak of this obligation as something worse 
 than death itself. Here at least Shakespeare was a man 
 of his own time. Yet if we wish to realize how far superior 
 he rose to the fierce Anti-Semitism of his day, we have but 
 to compare the judgment passed upon Shylock with the 
 brutal and heartless treatment which Barrabas receives, 
 with the evident approbation of the poet, at the hands 
 of the Christian governor of Malta. 
 
 In fact it is not too much to say that the Anti-Semitism 
 which appears in the Merchant of Venice is confined to the 
 inferior characters and to the lower classes. Shylock, 
 though a Jew, has a recognized status under the Venetian 
 law. The Duke rises from his bed at night to help him 
 find his runaway daughter; the courts of Venice are open 
 to him as to a Christian, and he appeals to the law with 
 the full certainty of obtaining justice. Antonio's attitude 
 
Introduction. xxxix 
 
 toward him has already been accounted for; Bassanio, 
 the best representative of the gentlemen of Venice, invites 
 him to dinner both before and after the negotiation of the 
 loan; and Portia, who stands out as the champion of 
 Christian ideals, utters no word which reveals anything 
 like race-hatred on her part. Yet the existence of such 
 race-hatred in Venice is by no means concealed. To 
 Latmcelot Shylock is the devil incarnate, and Jessica is 
 likely to be damned merely because she is the Jew's 
 daughter. The rabble of Venice follow Shylock through 
 the streets mocking his lamentations over his loss of his 
 daughter and his ducats. Salanio who has no private 
 cause of hatred calls him the "dog Jew," and in- the trial 
 scene Gratiano, the rude and bold-voiced jester, ex- 
 hausts upon him a rich vocabulary of abuse. We can, 
 I fancy, without a very great stretch of imagination con- 
 clude from this array of witnesses what was Shakespeare's 
 own attitude toward the Anti-Semitism of his day. As one 
 might expect of the gentle poet, the profound philosopher, 
 the sympathetic student of humanity, he takes his stand 
 with Portia against the rabble of the streets and the hot 
 young bloods of Venice; and Portia's eulogy of mercy 
 might well express the poet's own plea for tolerance of the 
 persecuted Jews. Certainly no poet, tinged in the least 
 with Anti-Semitism would, or could, have put into Shy- 
 lock's mouth that famous vindication of a Jew's humanity 
 which, in the words of a German critic, sums up the judg- 
 ment of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in condem- 
 nation of the oppressors and in apology for the oppressed. 
 
 Conclusion. 
 
 In conclusion then, it seems plain that the Merchant of 
 Venice had its origin in the outburst of the Anti-Semitism 
 
xl Introduction. 
 
 which accompanied the trial and execution of Dr. Lopez, 
 
 and the revival of Marlowe's Jew of Malta. Lopez was 
 not the original of Shylock, nor was the Jew of Malta 
 the prototype of Shakespeare's play. But we may 
 safely say that the events of this year impelled Shake- 
 speare to give a realistic picture of the Jew as he then 
 existed; that in accordance with his prevailing methods 
 of composition he took up an old play and worked it over 
 to suit his purposes; that in accordance with the prevail- 
 ing tone of his dramas at this time he set his portrait of the 
 Jew in a framework of romantic comedy; and, finally, that 
 his play contained a veiled, but to the understanding eye, 
 clearly apparent, acknowledgment of the Jew's humanity 
 and a plea for tolerance. That this acknowledgment 
 and plea were discerned by the playgoing populace of 
 his time it would be too much to say. We know that 
 Burbage, the first impersonator of Shylock was 'made 
 up' to resemble Judas in the old miracle plays in order 
 to impress spectators with the Jew's villainy. After the 
 Restoration, Shylock was degraded into a grotesque comic 
 character. From this shameful misconception of 'Shake- 
 speare's purpose the character was rescued by the great 
 tragedian Macklin, and in our own times the pendulum has 
 swung to the other extreme and the tendency has been 
 to exalt the character of Shylock and portray him as the 
 martyr-representative of his race. 
 
 Early in the nineteenth century Heine, the famous 
 Jewish poet, saw a performance of the Merchant of Venice 
 at Drury Lane. Behind him in the box there stood a 
 beautiful English girl who at the end of the trial scene 
 burst into tears and sobbed out: "The poor man. is 
 wronged." Here we have a true representative of the 
 modem spirit, somewhat too susceptible, indeed, to the 
 impression of the moment, but, on th^ whole, sympathetic 
 
 1 
 
Introduction. xli 
 
 and generous in judgment. The poor man was wronged, 
 not indeed in the trial scene, where his revengeful piu-pose 
 was withstood and his intended crime punished, but in all 
 the circumstances that made that crime possible, wronged 
 by the law that made him an alien among Venetian citizens, 
 wronged by the society that stole his money, spat on his 
 beard and called him dog, wronged in his purse, his person, 
 and his race. It marks a great advance in the ethical 
 conceptions of oiir day that it is no longer possible to 
 portray Shylock as a wholly villainous, much less as a 
 comic character. 
 
Merchant of Venice 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 |- suitors to Portia. 
 
 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, -\ 
 
 alarino, yj^iQyi^d^ fQ Antonio and Bassanio. 
 GratianO' 
 
 Salerio, 
 
 Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. 
 
 Shylock, a rich Jew. 
 
 Tubal, a Jew, his friend. 
 
 Launcelot Gobbo, the clown, servant to Shylock. 
 
 Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot. 
 
 Leonardo, servant to Bassanio, 
 
 „ ' \ servants to Portia. 
 
 Stephano, S 
 
 Portia, a rich heiress. 
 Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 
 Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 
 
 Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Jailer, 
 Servants to Portia, and other attendants. 
 
 Scene : Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia^ 
 on the Continent, 
 
The Merchant of Venice. 
 
 ACT FIRST. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 
 Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio, 
 
 Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: 
 It wearies me; you say it wearies you; 
 But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
 What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
 I am to learn; 
 
 And such a want- wit sadness makes of me, 
 That I have much ado to know myself. 
 
 Solar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; 
 
 There, where your argosies with portly sail, 
 
 Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, lo 
 
 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. 
 
 Satan. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
 The better part of my affections would 
 Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
 
2 The Merchant of Venice. [Act I. 
 
 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 at sea might do. 
 I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 
 But I should think of shallows and of flats. 
 And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand 
 Vailing her high top lower than her ribs 
 To kiss her burial. Should I go to church 
 And see the holy edifice of stone, 30 
 
 And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, 
 Which touching but my gentle vessel's side 
 Would scatter all her spices on the stream, 
 Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks; 
 And, in a word, but even now worth this. 
 And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought 
 To think on this; and shall I lack the thought. 
 That such a thing bechanced would make me sad? 
 But tell not me; I know, Antonio 
 Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 40 
 
 Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it. 
 My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
 Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate 
 Upon the fortune of this present year: 
 Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 
 
 Salar. Why, then you are in love. 
 
 Ant. Fie, fie! 
 
 Salar. Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad, 
 
Scene I.] The Merchant of Venice. 3 
 
 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 ot smile, 
 Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 
 
 Satan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
 Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well: 
 We leave you now with better company. 
 
 Salar. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, 60 
 If worthier friends had not prevented me. 
 
 Ant. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
 I take it, your own business calls on you, 
 And you embrace the occasion to depart. 
 
 Salar, Good morrow, my good lords. 
 
 Bass. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, 
 when? 
 You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? 
 
 Salar. We '11 make our leisures to attend on yours. 
 
 [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 
 
 Lor. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, 
 We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time, 70 
 I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 
 
 Bass. I will not fail you. 
 
 Gra. You look not well, Signior Antonio; 
 
 You have too much respect upon the world: 
 
4 The Merchant of Venice. [Act i. 
 
 They lose it that do buy it with much care: 
 Believe me, you are marvellously changed. . 
 
 Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; 
 A stage, where every man must play a part, 
 And mine a sad one. 
 
 Gra. Let me play the fool: 
 
 With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 80 
 
 And let my liver rather heat with wine 
 
 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
 
 Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
 
 Sit like hisgrandsire cut in alabaster? 
 
 Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice 
 
 By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio — 
 
 I love thee, and it is my love that speaks, — 
 
 There are a sort of men, whose visages 
 
 Do cream and mantle like a standing pond; 
 
 And do a wilful stillness entertain, 90 
 
 With purpose to be dress' d in an opinion 
 
 Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; 
 
 As who should say, ' I am Sir Oracle, 
 
 And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!' 
 
 my Antonio, I do know of these. 
 That therefore only are reputed wise 
 
 For saying nothing; when, I am very sure, 
 
 If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, 
 
 Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 
 
 1 '11 tell thee more of this another time: 100 
 But fish not, with this melancholy bait, 
 
 For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. 
 Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile: 
 I '11 end my exhortation after dinner. 
 Lor, Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner-time: 
 
Scene I.] The Merchant of Venice. 5 
 
 I must be one of these same dumb wise men, 
 For Gratiano never lets me speak. 
 
 Gra. Well, keep me company but two years moe, 
 
 Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 
 
 Ant. Farewell: I '11 grow a talker for this gear. no 
 
 Gra. Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only commendable 
 In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. 
 
 \Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. 
 
 Ant. Is that an}^ thing now? 
 
 Bass. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, 
 more than any man in all Venice. His reasons 
 are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels 
 of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find 
 them: and when you have them, they are not 
 worth the search. 
 
 Ant. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same 
 
 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 120 
 
 That you to-day promised to tell me of? 
 
 Bass. 'Tis not unknown to- you, Antonio, 
 How much I have disabled mine estate. 
 By something showing a more swelling port 
 Than my faint means would grant continuance : 
 . Nor do I now make moan to be abridged 
 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, 130 
 
 I owe the most, in money and in love; 
 And from your love I have a warranty 
 To unburthen all my plots and purposes 
 How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 
 
 Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; 
 
6 The Merchant of Venice. [act I. 
 
 And if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
 Within the eye of honour, be assured, ' 
 
 My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
 Lie all unlock' d to your occasions. 
 
 Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 140 
 I shot his fellow of the self-same flight 
 The self-same way with more advised watch. 
 To find the other forth; and by adventuring both, 
 I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, 
 Because what follows is pure innocence. 
 I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth. 
 That which I owe is lost: but if you please 
 To shoot another arrow that self way 
 Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt. 
 As I will watch the aim, or to find both, 150 
 
 Or bring your latter hazard back again, 
 And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 
 
 Ant. You know me well ; and herein spend but time 
 To wind about my love with circumstance; 
 And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
 In making question of my uttermost. 
 Than if you had made waste of all I have: 
 Then do but say to me what I should do, 
 That in your knowledge may by me be done, 
 And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak. 160 
 
 Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left; 
 
 And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, 
 
 Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes 
 
 I did receive fair speechless messages: 
 
 Her name is Portia; nothing undervalued 
 
 To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia: 
 
 Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; 
 
Scene II.] The Merchant of Venice. ^ 
 
 For the four winds blow in from every coast 
 Renowned suitors: and her sunny locks 
 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; 170 
 
 Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strond, 
 And many Jasons come in quest of her. 
 
 my Antonio, had I but the means 
 To hold a rival place with one of them, 
 
 1 have a mind presages me such thrift, 
 That I should questionless be fortunate! 
 
 Ant. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; 
 Neither have I money, nor commodity 
 To raise a present sum: therefore go forth; 
 Try what my credit can in Venice do: 180 
 
 That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
 To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
 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. \Exeuni. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Belmont. A rooin in Portia's house. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 For, By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary 
 of this great world. 
 
 Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries 
 were in the same abundance as your good for- 
 tunes are: and yet, for aught I see, they are as 
 sick that surfeit with too much, as they that 
 starve with nothing. It is no mean happiness, 
 therefore, to be seated in the mean : superfluity 
 
8 The Merchant of Venice. [Act L 
 
 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 the 
 blood; but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold de- 20 
 cree: such a hare is madness the youth, to 
 skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the crip- 
 ple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion 
 to choose me a husband. O me, the word 
 'choose ' ! I may neither choose whom I would, 
 nor refuse whom I dislike; so is the will of a 
 •living daughter curbed by the will of a dead 
 father. Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot 
 choose one, nor refuse none? 
 
 Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men, 30 
 at their death, have good inspirations: there- 
 fore, 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 you shall rightly love. But what warmth 
 is there in your affection towards any of these 
 princely suitors that are already come? 
 
 Por. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou 
 
 namest them, I will describe them; and, 40 
 
Scene II.] The Merchant of Venice. 9 
 
 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 
 appropria^tion to his own good parts, that he can 
 shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady 
 his mother played false with a smith. 
 
 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! 
 
 Ner. How say you by the French lord. Monsieur 
 Le Boune? 
 
 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! — why, he hath a horse bet- 
 ter 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 Fauconbridge, the 
 • young baron of England? 
 
lo The Merchant of Venice. [Act I. 
 
 Por. You know I say nothing to him ; for he under- 
 stands not me, nor I him: he hath neither 
 Latin, French, nor Itahan; and you will come 
 into the court and swear that I have a poor 
 pennyworth in the English. He is a proper 
 man's picture; but, alas, who can converse with 
 a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited! I 
 think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round 80 
 hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and 
 his behaviour every where. 
 
 Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neigh- 
 bour ? 
 
 Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in, him; 
 for he borrowed a box of the ear of the 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 : and the worst fall that ever 
 fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without 
 him. 
 
 Ner. If he should of[er to choose, and choose the 
 
 right casket, you should refuse to perform 100 
 your father's will, if you should refuse to 
 accept him. 
 
 Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pra}^ thee, 
 set a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary 
 
Scene il] The Merchant of Venice. ii 
 
 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 '11 be married 
 to a sponge. 
 
 Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of 
 
 these lords: they have acquainted me with no 
 their determinations; 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, de- 
 pending 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 120 
 absence; and I pray God grant them a fair 
 departure. 
 
 Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's 
 time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that 
 came hither in company of the Marquis of 
 Mountf errat ? 
 
 Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so was 
 he called. 
 
 Ner. True, madam: he, of all the men that ever 
 
 my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best de- 130 
 serving a fair lady. 
 
 Por. I remember him well; and I remember him 
 worthy of thy praise. 
 
 Enter a Serving-man, 
 
 How now! what news.'' 
 
12 The Merchant of Venice. [Act I. 
 
 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 140 
 a heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I 
 should be glad of his approach: if he have the 
 condition of a saint and the complexion of a 
 devil, I had rather he should shrive me than 
 wive me. 
 
 Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 
 Whiles we shut the gate upon one wooer, another 
 knocks at the door. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Venice. A public place. 
 
 Enter Bassanio and Shy lock. 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats; well. 
 
 Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. 
 
 Shy. For three months; well. 
 
 Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall 
 
 be bound. 
 Shy. Antonio shall become bound; well. 
 Bass. May you stead me? will you pleasure me? 
 
 shall I know your answer? 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats for three months, and 
 
 Antonio bound. jo 
 
 Bass. Your answer to that. 
 ^hy. Antonio is a good man. 
 
Scene III.] The Merchant of Venice. 13 
 
 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 Tri- 
 poHs, another to the Indies; I understand, 
 moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at 20 
 Mexico, a fourth for England, and other ven- 
 tures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships 
 are but boards, sailors but men: there be land- 
 rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land- 
 thieves, I mean pirates; and then there is the 
 peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, 
 notwithstanding, sufficient. Three 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? 40 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 Bass. This is Signior Antonio. 
 
14 The Merchant of Venice. [Act i. 
 
 Shy. [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks! 
 I hate him for he is a Christian; 
 But more for that in low simplicity 
 He lends out money gratis and brings down 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
 If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
 I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
 He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate, 50 
 On me, my bargains, and my well- won thrift, 
 Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
 If I forgive him! 
 
 Bass. Shylock, do you hear? 
 
 Shy. I am debating of my present store; 
 And, by the near guess of my memory, 
 I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
 Of full three thousand ducats. What of that? 
 Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe. 
 Will furnish me. But soft ! how many months 
 Do you desire? [To Ant.] Rest you fair, good 
 signior ; 60 
 
 Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 
 
 Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow. 
 By taking nor by giving of excess. 
 Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
 1 11 break a custom. [To Bass.] 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; 
 
Scene III.] The Merchant of Venice. 15 
 
 Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 70 
 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 
 Should fall as Jacob's hire, . . . .81 
 
 The skilful shepherd pill'd me certain wands, 
 
 And . 
 
 stuck them up before the fulsome ewes. 
 Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 
 Fall parti-colour' d lambs, and those were Jacob's. 
 This was a way to thrive, and he was blest : 90 
 
 And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 
 
 Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for; 
 A thing not in his power to bring to pass. 
 But sway'd and fashion' d by the hand of heaven. 
 Was this inserted to make interest good? 
 Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams? 
 
 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, 100 
 
 Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; 
 
i6 The Merchant of Venice. [Act I. 
 
 A goodly apple rotten at the heart: 
 
 O, what a godly outside falsehood hath ! 
 
 Shy. Three thousand ducats ; 'tis a good round 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; no 
 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
 You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog. 
 And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
 And all for use of that which is mine own. 
 Well then, it now appears you need my help: 
 Go to, then; you come to me, and you say 
 
 * Shy lock, we would have moneys : ' you say so ; 
 You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, 
 And foot me as you spvirn a stranger cur 
 
 Over your threshold: moneys is your suit. 120 
 
 What should I say to you? Should I not say 
 
 * Hath a dog money? is it possible 
 
 A cur can lend three thousand ducats?* or 
 Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key, 
 With bated breath and whispering humbleness, 
 Say this, — 
 
 * Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; 
 You spurn' d me such a day; another time 
 You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies 
 
 I '11 lend you thus much moneys'? 130 
 
 Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, 
 
 To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too, 
 
Scene 111.] The Merchant of Venice. 17 
 
 If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
 
 As to thy friends; for when did friendship take 
 
 A breed of barren metal of his friend? 
 
 But lend it rather to thine enemy; 
 
 Who if he break, thou mayest with better face 
 
 Exact the penalty. 
 
 Shy. Why, look you, how you storm! 
 
 I would be friends with you, and have your love. 
 Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with. 
 Supply your present wants, and take no doit 141 
 Of usance for my moneys, and you '11 not hear me: 
 This is kind I offer. 
 
 Bass. This were kindness. 
 
 Shy. This kindness will I show. 
 
 Go with me to a notary, seal me there 
 Your single bond; and, in a merry sport, 
 If you repay me not on such a day. 
 In such a place, such sum or sums as are 
 Express 'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
 Be nominated for an equal pound 150 
 
 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: 
 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 160 
 
 Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 
 
 Shy. O father Abram, what these Christians are, 
 
 Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 
 
1 8 The Merchant of Venice. [Act I, 
 
 The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this; 
 
 If he should break his day, what should I gain 
 
 By the exaction of the forfeiture? 
 
 A pound of man's flesh taken from a man 
 
 Is not so estimable, profitable neither, 
 
 As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, 
 
 To buy his favour, I extend this friendship: 
 
 If he will take it, so; if not, adieu; 170 
 
 And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 
 
 Ant, Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 
 
 Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's; 
 Give him direction for this merry bond; 
 And I will go and purse the ducats straight; 
 See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
 Of an unthrifty knave; and presently 
 I will be with you. 
 
 Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. [Exit Shylock. 
 
 The Hebrew will turn Christian : he grows kind. 
 
 Bass. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 180 
 
 Ant. Come on: in this there can be no dismay; 
 My ships come home a month before the day. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
Scene I.] The Merchant of Venice. 19 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia s house. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco and his 
 train; Portia, Nerissa, and others attending. 
 
 Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
 
 The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, 
 
 To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. 
 
 Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
 
 Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
 
 And let us make incision for your love, 
 
 To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 
 
 I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
 
 Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love, I swear 
 
 The best-regarded virgins of our clime 10 
 
 Have loved it too: I would not change this hue, 
 
 Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 
 
 For. In terms of choice I a,m not solely led 
 By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; 
 Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
 Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: 
 But if my father had not scanted me 
 And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself 
 His wife who wins me by that means I told 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: 
 
20 The Merchant of Venice. [Act II. 
 
 Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets, 
 To try ray fortune. By this scimitar 
 That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince 
 That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
 I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, 
 Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 
 Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, 
 Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 30 
 
 To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! 
 If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
 Which is the better man, the greater throw 
 May turn by fortune from the weaker hand: 
 So is Alcides beaten by his page; 
 And so may I, blind fortune leading me. 
 Miss that which one un worthier may attain, 
 And die with grieving. 
 
 Por. You must take your chance 
 
 And either not attempt to choose at all, 39 
 
 Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong, 
 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, forv/ard to the temple: after dinner 
 Your hazard shall be made. 
 
 Mor. Good fortune then! 
 
 To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 
 
 [Cornets, and exeunt. 
 
Scene ll.j The Merchant of Venice. 2i 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 
 Enter Launcelot. 
 
 Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run 
 from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine 
 elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, * Gobbo, 
 Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,' or 'good 
 Gobbo,' or 'good Launcelot Gobbo, use your 
 legs, take the start, run away.' My conscience 
 says, 'No; take heed, honest Launcelot; take 
 heed, honest Gobbo,' or, as aforesaid, 'honest 
 Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running 
 with thy heels.' Well, the most courageous lo 
 fiend bids me pack: 'Via!' says the fiend; 
 ' away! ' says the fiend; 'for the heavens, rouse 
 up a brave mind,' says the fiend, 'and run.' 
 Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of 
 my heart, says very wisely to me, 'My honest 
 friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son,' — 
 or rather an honest woman's son; — for, indeed, 
 my father did something smack, something 
 grow to, he had a kind of taste; — well, my con- 
 science says, ' Launcelot, budge not.' ' Budge,' 20 
 says the fiend. ' Budge not,' says my conscience. 
 'Conscience,' 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, 
 lo run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by 
 the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the 
 
22 The Merchant of Venice. [Act II. 
 
 devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil 
 incarnation; 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 commandment ; I will run. 
 
 Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket. 
 
 Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is. 
 the way to master Jew's? 
 
 Latin. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten 
 father! who, being more than sand-blind, high- 
 gravel blind, knows me not: I will try con- 
 fusions with him. 
 
 Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is 40 
 the way to master Jew's? 
 
 Laun. Turn up on your right hand at the next 
 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. Be 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. 
 
Scene II.] The Merchant of Venice. 23 
 
 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 
 sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of 
 learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would 
 say in plain terms, gone to heaven. 
 
 Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very 
 
 staff of my age, my very prop. 70 
 
 Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a 
 staff or a prop? Do you know me, father? 
 
 Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young 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 80 
 knows his own child. Well, old man, I will 
 tell you news of your son : give me your bless- 
 ing: truth will come to light; murder cannot 
 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, 
 
24 The Merchant of Venice. [act ii. 
 
 your boy that was, your son that is, your child 90 
 that shall be. 
 
 Goh. I cannot think you are my son. 
 
 Laun. I know not what I shall think of that: but I 
 am Launcelot, the Jev/'s man; and I am sure 
 Margery your wife is my mother. 
 
 Goh. Her name is Margery, indeed: I '11 be sworn, 
 if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh 
 and blood. Lord worshipped might he be! 
 what a beard hast thou got ! thou hast got more 
 hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has 100 
 on his tail. 
 
 Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail 
 grows backward: I am sure he had more hair 
 of his tail than I have of my face when I last 
 saw him. 
 
 Goh. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost 
 thou and thy master agree? I have brought 
 him a present. How 'gree you now? 
 
 Laun. Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I 
 
 have set up my rest to run away, so I will not no 
 rest till I have run some ground. My master's 
 a very Jew: give him a present! give him a 
 halter: I am famished in his service; you may 
 tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, 
 I am glad you are come: give me your present 
 to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare 
 new liveries: if I serve not him, I will run as 
 far as God has any ground. O rare fortune! 
 here comes the man: to him, father; for I am 
 a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 120 
 
Scene II.] The Merchant of Venice. 25 
 
 Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo and other followers. 
 
 Bass. You may do so; but let it be so hasted, that 
 supper be ready at the farthest by five of the 
 clock. See these letters delivered; put the 
 liveries to making ; and desire Gratiano to come 
 anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant. 
 
 Laun. To him, father. 
 
 Gob. God bless your worship! 
 
 Bass. Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me? 
 
 Gob. Here 's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 
 
 Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's 130 
 man; that would, sir, — as my father shall 
 specify, — 
 
 Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would 
 say, to serve — 
 
 Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the 
 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, 140 
 having done me wrong, doth cause me, — as my 
 father, being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify 
 unto you, — 
 
 Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would be- 
 stow upon your worship, and my suit is, — 
 
 Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to my- 
 self, as your worship shall know by this honest 
 old man; and, though I say it, though old man, 
 yet poor man, my father. 
 
 Bq§^, One speak for both, What would 70U? 150 
 
26 The Merchant of Venice. [Act II. 
 
 Laun. Serve you, sir. 
 
 Goh. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 
 
 Bass. I know thee well; thou hast obtain' d thy suit: 
 Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, 
 And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 
 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. i6o 
 
 Bass. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son. 
 Take leave of thy old master and inquire 
 My lodging out. Give him a livery 
 More guarded than his fellows' : see it done. 
 
 Laun. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have 
 ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man 
 in Italy have a fairer table which doth off er 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 170 
 nothing! aleven widows and nine maids is a 
 simple coming-in for one man : and then to scape 
 drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life 
 with the edge of a feather-bed ; here are simple 
 scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she 's a 
 good wench for this gear. Father, come; I'll 
 take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an 
 eye. [Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo. 
 
 Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this: 
 These things being bought and orderly bestow'd, 
 Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 180 
 
 M7 best-esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go. 
 
Scene IL] The Merchant of Venice. 27 
 
 Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Where is your master? 
 
 Leon. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, — 
 
 Bass. Gratiano! 
 
 Gra. I have a suit to you. 
 
 Bass. You have obtain'd it. 
 
 Gra. You must not deny me: I must go with you 
 to Belmont. 
 
 Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano : 
 Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice; 190 
 Parts that become thee happily enough, 
 And in such eyes as ours appear not faults; 
 But where thou art not known, why there they show 
 Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pains 
 To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
 Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild be- 
 haviour, 
 I be misconster'd in the place I go to, 
 And lose my hopes. 
 
 Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me: 
 
 If I do not put on a sober habit. 
 Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, 200 
 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 gran dam, never trust me more, 
 
 Bas^, Well, we shall see your bearing. 
 
28 The Merchant of Venice. [Act ii. 
 
 Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me 
 By what we do to-night. 
 
 Bass. No, that were pity: 
 
 I would entreat you rather to put on 210 
 
 Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
 That purpose merriment. But fare you well: 
 I have some business. 
 
 Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest: 
 
 But we will visit you at supper-time. \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 The same. A room in Shylock's house. 
 
 Enter Jessica and Launcelot. 
 
 Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so: 
 Our house is hell; and thou, a merry devil, 
 Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
 But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee: 
 And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
 Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest: 
 Give him this letter; do it secretly; 
 And so farewell: I would not have my father 
 See me in talk with thee. 
 
 Laun. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most 10 
 beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew! if a Chris- 
 tian do not play the knave, and get thee, I am 
 much deceived. 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! 
 gut though I ara a daughter to his blood , 
 
Scene iv] The Merchant of Venice. 29 
 
 I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, 
 
 If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 20 
 
 Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 The smne. 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. And it shall please you to break up this, it 10 
 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? 
 
 Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to 
 sup to-night with my new master the Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 l^QT, Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica, 2Q 
 
30 The Merchant of Venice. [Act ii. 
 
 I will not fail her; speak it privately. 
 
 Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? 
 
 I am provided of a torch-bearer. 
 Solar. 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. \Exe^tnt Salar. and Salan. 
 Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica? 
 Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 30 
 
 How I shall take her from her father's house; 
 
 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. 40 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 The same. Before Shy lock's house. 
 
 Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 
 
 Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, 
 The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio: — 
 What, Jessica! — thou shalt not gormandise, 
 As thou hast done with me: — What, Jessica! — 
 And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out; — 
 Why, Jessica, I sa)^! 
 
ScExNE v.] The Merchant of Venice. 31 
 
 Laun. Why, Jessica! 
 
 Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. 
 Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me I coiiid 
 do nothing without bidding. 
 
 Enter Jessica. 
 
 Jes. Call you? what is your will? 10 
 
 Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica: 
 
 There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? 
 I am not bid for love; they flatter me: 
 But yet I '11 go in hate, to feed upon 
 The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl. 
 Look to my house. ' I am right loath to go: . 
 There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
 For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 
 
 Laun. I beseech you, sir, go: my young master 
 
 doth expect your reproach. 20 
 
 Shy. So do I his. 
 
 Laun. And they have conspired together, — I will 
 not say you shall see a masque; but if you do, 
 then it was not for nothing that my nose fell 
 a-bleeding on Black-Monday last at six o'clock 
 i' the morning, falling out that year on Ash- 
 Wednesday was four year, in th' 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 
 
32 The Merchant of Venice. [Act ii. 
 
 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 Jewes eye. [Exit, 
 
 Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? 
 
 Jes. His words were, ' Farewell, mistress;' nothing else. 
 
 Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder; 
 Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
 More than the wild-cat: drones hive not with me; 
 Therefore I part with him; and part with him 
 To one that I would have him help to waste 50 
 His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in: 
 Perhaps I will return immediately. 
 Do as I bid you; shut doors after you: 
 Fast bind, fast find, 
 A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exit. 
 
 Jes. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost, 
 
 I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 The same. 
 
 Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued. 
 
 Gra. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 
 
 Desired us to make stand. 
 Solar. His hour is almost past, 
 
 Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, 
 
 For lover? ever run before the clock, 
 
Scene VI.] The Merchant of Venice. 33 
 
 Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
 
 To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont 
 To keep obliged faith unforfeited! 
 
 Gra. That ever holds: who riseth from a feast 
 With that keen appetite that he sits down? 
 Where is the horse that doth untread again 10 
 
 His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
 That he did pace them first? All things that are, 
 Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
 How like a younker or a prodigal 
 The scarfed bark puts -from her native bay, 
 Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! 
 How like the prodigal doth she return, 
 With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, 
 Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! 
 
 Salar. Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter. 20 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Lor. vSweet friends, your patience for my long abode; 
 Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait: 
 When you shall please to play the thieves for wives , 
 I '11 watch as long for you then. Approach; 
 Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who 's within? 
 
 Enter Jessica, above, in hoy's clothes. 
 
 Jes. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, 
 Albeit I '11 swear that I do know your tongue. 
 
 Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 
 
 Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed. 
 
 For who love I so much? And now who knows 
 But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? 31 
 
 Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. 
 
34 
 
 The Merchant of Venice. [Act Ii. 
 
 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 discover}^ love; 
 
 And I should be obscured. 
 Lor. So are you, sweet, 
 
 Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
 
 But come at once; 
 
 For the close night doth play the runaway, 
 
 And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 
 Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
 
 With some mo ducats, and be with you straight. 50 
 
 [Exit above. 
 Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. 
 Lor. Beshrew me but I love her heartily; 
 
 For she is wise, if I can judge of her; 
 
 And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true; 
 
 And true she is, as she hath proved herself; 
 
 And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true. 
 
 Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 
 
 Enter Jessica, below. 
 
 What, art thou come? On, gentlemen; away! 
 Otirmasquing mates by this time for us stay. 
 
 [Exit with Jessica and Salarino. 
 
Scene VII.] The Merchant of Venice. j^ 
 
 Enter Antonio, f 
 
 Ant. Who's there? 60 
 
 Gra. Signior Antonio! 
 
 Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano; where are all the rest? 
 
 'Tis nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you. 
 
 No masque to-night: the wind is come about; 
 
 Bassanio presently will go aboard: 
 
 I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 
 Gra. I am glad on 't: I desire no more delight 
 
 Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, 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.? 10 
 
 Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince; 
 
 If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
 Mor. Some god direct my judgement! Let me see; 
 
 I will survey the inscriptions back again. 
 
 What says this leaden casket,'* 
 
36 The Merchant of Venice. [Act II. 
 
 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' 
 
 Must give, — for what? for lead? hazard for lead? 
 
 This casket threatens. Men that hazard all 
 
 Do it in hope of fair advantages: 
 
 A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; 20 
 
 I '11 then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
 
 What says the silver with her virgin hue ? 
 
 ' Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' 
 
 As much as he deserves! Pause there, Morocco, 
 
 And weigh thy value with an even hand: 
 
 If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 
 
 Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough 
 
 May not extend so far as to the lady: 
 
 And yet to be afeared of my deserving 
 
 Were but a weak disabling of myself. 30 
 
 As much as I deserve! Why, that 's the lady: 
 
 I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, 
 
 In graces and in qualities of breeding; 
 
 But more than these, in love I do deserve. 
 
 What if I stray 'd no farther, but chose here? 
 
 Let 's see once more this saying graved in gold; 
 
 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' 
 
 Why, that 's the lady; all the world desires her; 
 
 From the four corners of the earth they come, 
 
 To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint: 40 
 
 The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
 
 Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now 
 
 For princes to come view fair Portia: 
 
 The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
 
 Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
 
 To stop the foreign spirits; but they come, 
 
 As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 
 
Scene VII.] The Merchant of Venice. 37 
 
 One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 
 Is 't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation 
 To think so base a thought: it were too gross 50 
 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
 Or shall I think in silver she 's immured, 
 Being ten times undervalued to tried gold? 
 O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem 
 Was set in worse than gold. They have in England 
 A coin that bears the figure of an angel 
 Stamped in gold, but that 's insculp'd upon; 
 But here an angel in a golden bed 
 Lies all within. Deliver me the key: 
 Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may! 60 
 
 Por. There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there, 
 
 Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket. 
 
 Mot. O hell! what have we here? 
 
 A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 
 There is a written scroll! I '11 read the writing. 
 [Reads'] All that glisters is not gold; 
 
 Often have you heard that told: 
 Many a man his life hath sold 
 But my outside to behold : 
 Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
 Had you been as wise as bold, 70 
 
 Young in limbs, in judgement old, 
 Your answer had not been inscroU'd: 
 Fare you well; your suit is cold. 
 Cold, indeed; and labour lost: 
 Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! 
 Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart 
 To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. 
 
 [Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets. 
 
38 The Merchant of Venice. [Act ii. 
 
 Por. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. 
 
 Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 
 Enter Salarino and Salanio. 
 
 Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail: 
 With him is Gratiano gone along; 
 And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 
 
 Salan. The villain Jew with outcries raised the Duke, 
 Who went with him to search Bassanio 's ship. 
 
 Salar. He came too late, the ship was under sail: 
 But there the Duke was given to understand 
 That in a gondola were seen together 
 Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica: 
 Besides, Antonio certified the Duke 10 
 
 They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
 
 Salan. I never heard a passion so confused, 
 So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 
 As the dog Jew did utter in the streets: 
 'My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter! 
 Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats! 
 Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter 
 A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, 
 Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter! 
 And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones, 
 Stolen by my daughter ! Justice ! find the girl ! 2 1 
 She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats! ' 
 
 Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him. 
 
 Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 
 
Scene VIIL] The Merchant of Venice. 39 
 
 Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
 Or he shall pay for this. 
 
 Salar. Marry, well remember 'd. 
 
 I reason' d with a Frenchman yesterday, 
 Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
 The French and English, there miscarried 
 A vessel of our country richly fraught: 30 
 
 I thought upon Antonio when he told me; 
 And wish'd in silence that it were not his. 
 
 Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear; 
 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 
 
 Salar. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
 I saw Bassanio and Antonio part: 
 Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
 Of his return: he answer'd, ' Do not so; 
 Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
 But stay the very riping of the time ; 40 
 
 And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
 Let it not enter in your mind of love: 
 Be merry; and employ your chief est thoughts 
 To courtship, and such fair ostents of love 
 As shall conveniently become you there : ' 
 And even there, his eye being big with tears, 
 Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
 And with affection wondrous sensible 
 He wrung Bassanio's hand; and so they parted. 
 
 Salan. I think he only loves the world for him. 50 
 
 I pray thee, let us go and find him out, 
 And quicken his embraced heaviness 
 With some delight or other, 
 
 Salar. Do we so. [Exeunt, 
 
40 The Merchant of Venice. [Act II. 
 
 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 conies to his election presently. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, Portia, 
 
 and their trains. 
 
 Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince: 
 If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, 
 Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized: 
 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
 You must be gone from hence immediately. 
 
 Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: 
 
 First, never to unfold to any one lo 
 
 Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail 
 
 Of the right casket, never in my life 
 
 To woo a maid in way of marriage: 
 
 Lastly, 
 
 If I do fail in fortune of my choice, 
 
 Immediately to leave you and be gone. 
 
 Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear 
 That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 
 
 Ar. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now 19 
 
 To my heart's hope! Gold; silver; and base lead. 
 ' Who choozeth me must give and hazard all he hath.' 
 You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 
 What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: 
 * Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' 
 
Scene IX.] The Merchant of Venice. 41 
 
 What many men desire ! that * many ' may be meant 
 By the fool multitude, that ehoose 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 ! 
 How many be commanded that command ! 
 How much low peasantry would then be glean 'd 
 From the true seed of honour ! and how much honour 
 Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times. 
 To be new-vamish'd ! Well, but to my choice : 
 
 * Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' 
 I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, 51 
 And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 
 
 [He opens the silver casket. 
 Por. [Asidel Too long a pause for that which you 
 
 find there. 
 Ar, What 's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, 
 
42 Tlie Merchant of Venice. [Act ii. 
 
 Presenting me a schedule! I will read it. 
 
 How much unlike art thou to Portia! 
 
 How much unlike my hopes and my deservings! 
 
 * Who chooseth me shall have as much as he 
 
 deserves.' 
 Did I deserve no more than a fool's head? 
 Is that my prize? are my deserts no better? 60 
 Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, 
 
 And of opposed natures. 
 Ar. What is here? 
 
 [Reads'] The fire seven times tried this: 
 
 Seven times tried that judgement is, 
 That did never choose amiss. 
 Some. there be that shadows kiss; 
 Such have but a shadow's bliss: 
 There be fools alive, I wis, 
 Silver'd o'er; and so was this. 
 Take what wife you will to bed, 70 
 
 I will ever be your head: 
 So be gone: you are sped. 
 Still more fool I shall appear 
 By the time I linger here: 
 With one fool's head I came to woo, 
 But I go away with two. 
 Sweet, adieu. I '11 keep my oath. 
 Patiently to bear my wroath. 
 
 [Exeunt Arragon and train. 
 Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth. 
 
 O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, 80 
 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
 Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy, 
 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 
Scene IX.] The Merchant of Venice. 43 
 
 Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Where is my lady? 
 
 Por. Here: what would my lord? 
 
 Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
 A young Venetian, one that comes before 
 To signify the approaching of his lord; 
 From whom he bringeth sensible regreets. 
 To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 90 
 Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 
 So likely an ambassador of love: 
 A day in April never came so sweet, 
 To show how costly summer was at hand, 
 As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 
 
 Por. No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard 
 Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, 
 Thou spend 'st such high- day wit in praising him. 
 Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see 
 Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. 100 
 
 Net, Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! \ExeunU 
 
44 The Merchant of Venice. [Act III. 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 Enter Salanio and Salarino. 
 
 Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto? 
 :Sal<w. Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that 
 Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked 
 on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think 
 they call the place; a very dangerous flat and 
 fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie 
 buried, as they say, if my gossip Report be an 
 honest woman of her word. 
 
 Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as 
 
 ever knapped ginger, or made her neighbours 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! — 
 
 Salar. Come, the full stop. 
 
 Salan. Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, 
 he hath lost a ship. 
 
 Salar. I would it might prove the end of his 20 
 losses. 
 
 Salan. Let me say * amen ' betimes, lest the devil 
 cross my prayer, for here he comes in the like- 
 jiess of a Jew, 
 
Scene L] The Merchant of Venice. 45 
 
 Enter Shy lock. 
 
 How now, Shylock! 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. 30 
 
 Satan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird 
 was fledged; and then it is the complexion of 
 them all to leave the dam. 
 
 Shy. She is damned for it. 
 
 Salar. That 's certain, if the devil may be her 
 judge. 
 
 Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel! 
 
 Salan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these 
 years ? 
 
 Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 40 
 
 Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh 
 and hers than between jet and ivory; more 
 between your bloods than there is between red 
 wine and rhenish. But tell us, do you hear 
 whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no ? 
 
 Shy. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, 
 a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the 
 Rialto ; a beggar, that 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 50 
 bond: he was wont to lend money for a Chris- 
 tian 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? 
 
46 The Merchant of Venice. [Act ill. 
 
 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 60 
 reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? 
 hath not a 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 70 
 the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a 
 Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? 
 Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what 
 should his sufferance be by Christian example? 
 Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me, I 
 will execute; and it shall go hard but I will 
 better the instruction. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his 
 house, and desires to speak with you both. 
 Salar. We have been up and down to seek him. 
 
 Enter Tubal. 
 
 Salan. Here comes another of the tribe: a third 80 
 cannot be matched, unless the devil himself 
 turn Jew, yExmnt Salan. Salar. and Servant, 
 
Scene L] The Merchant of Venice. 47 
 
 Shy. How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? 
 hast thou found my daughter? 
 
 Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but 
 cannot find her. 
 
 Shy. Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond 
 gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frank- 
 fort ! The curse never fell upon our nation till 
 now; I never felt it till now: two thousand 90 
 ducats in that; and other precious, precious 
 jewels. I would my daughter were dead at my 
 foot, and the jewels in her ear! would she were 
 hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin ! 
 No news of them? Why, so: — and I know 
 not what 's spent in the search: why, thou loss 
 upon loss ! the thief gone with so much, and so 
 much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, no 
 revenge : nor no ill luck stirring but what lights 
 on my shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; 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! Is it true, is it 
 true? 
 
 Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped 
 
 the wreck. iio 
 
 Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good 
 news! ha, ha! here? in Genoa? 
 
 Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in 
 QU^ ni^ht fourscore ducats. 
 
48 The Merchant of Venice. [Act in. 
 
 Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me: I shall never 
 see my gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting! 
 fourscore ducats! 
 
 Tub. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in 
 my company to Venice, that swear he cannot 
 choose but break. t2c 
 
 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! 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, Tubal, 
 and meet me at our synagogue; go, good 
 Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. lExeunt. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, and Attendants . 
 
 Por. I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two 
 
 Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, 
 I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile. 
 There 's something tells me, but it is not love, 
 I would not lose you; and you know yourself, 
 
Scene II. The Merchant of Venice. 49 
 
 Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
 But lest you should not understand me well, — 
 And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, — 
 I would detain you here some month or two 
 Before you venture for me. I could teach you 10 
 How to choose right, but then I am forsworn; 
 So will I never be: so may you miss me; 
 But if you do, you '11 make me wish a sin, 
 That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes. 
 They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me; 
 One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 
 Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours. 
 And so all yours! O, these naughty times 
 Puts bars between the owners and their rights! 
 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 20 
 Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 
 I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize the time, 
 To eke it and to draw it out in length, 
 To stay you from election. 
 
 Bass. Let me choose; 
 
 For as I am, I live upon the rack. 
 
 Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess 
 
 What treason there is mingled with your love. 
 
 Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, 
 
 Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love: 
 There may as well be amity and life 30 
 
 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 
 
 Por. 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,* 
 
50 The Merchant of Venice. Act ill. 
 
 Had been the very sum of my confession: 
 O happy torment, when my torturer 
 Doth teach me answers for deHverance! 
 But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
 
 Por. Away, then! I am lock' d in one of them: 40 
 If you do love me, you will find me out. 
 Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. 
 Let music sound while he doth make his choice; 
 Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, 
 Fading in music: that the comparison 
 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the 
 
 stream. 
 And watery death-bed for him. He may win; 
 And what is music then? Then music is 
 Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
 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 th' exploit. Go, Hercules! 60 
 
 Live thou, I live : with much much more dismxay 
 I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. 
 
Scene ii. The Merchant of Venice. 51 
 
 Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself. 
 
 Song. 
 Tell me where is fancy bred, 
 Or in thfe heart or in the head ? 
 How begot, how nourished? 
 
 Reply, reply. 
 It is engender'd in the eyes, 
 With gazing fed; and fancy dies 
 In the cradle where it lies. 
 
 Let us all ring fancy's knell; 70 
 
 I '11 begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 
 All. Ding, dong, bell. 
 
 Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves: 
 The world is still deceived with ornament. 
 In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
 But, being season'd with a gracious voice. 
 Obscures the show of evil? In religion. 
 What damned error, but some sober brow 
 Will bless it, and approve it with a text, 
 Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? 80 
 
 There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
 Some mark of virtue on his outward parts: 
 How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
 As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
 The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; 
 Who, inward search 'd, have livers white as milk; 
 And these assume but valour's excrement 
 To render them redoubted! Look on beauty. 
 And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight; 
 Which therein works a miracle in nature, 90 
 
 Making them lightest that wear most of it: 
 
52 The Merchant of Venice. [Act ill. 
 
 So are those crisped snaky golden locks 
 
 Which makes stich wanton gambols with the wind, 
 
 Upon supposed fairness, often known 
 
 To be the dowry of a second h6ad, 
 
 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 plainness moves me more than eloquence; 
 And here choose I: joy be the consequence! 
 Por. [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair, 
 And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! no 
 
 love, be moderate; allay thy ecstasy; 
 
 In measure rain thy joy; scant this excess! 
 
 1 feel too much thy blessing: make it less, 
 For fear I surfeit! 
 
 Bass. What find I here? 
 
 [Opening the leaden casket. 
 Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god 
 Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? 
 Or, whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
 Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips, 
 Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar 
 Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs 
 
Scene II.] The Merchant of Venice. 53 
 
 The painter plays the spider, and hath woven 121 
 A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, 
 Faster than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes, — 
 How could he see to do them? having made one, 
 Methinks it should have power to steal both his 
 And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far 
 The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow 
 In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
 Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll. 
 The continent and summary of my fortune. 130 
 [Reads] You that choose not by the view. 
 
 Chance as fair, and choose as true! 
 
 Since this fortune falls to you, 
 
 Be content and seek no new. 
 
 If you be well pleased with this, 
 
 And hold your fortune for your bliss, 
 
 Turn you where your lady is. 
 
 And claim her with a loving kiss. 
 A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave; 
 I come by note, to give and to receive. 140 
 
 Like one of two contending in a prize. 
 That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
 Hearing applause and universal shout. 
 Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 
 Whether those peals of praise be his or no; 
 So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so; 
 As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
 Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 
 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 
 
54 The Merchant of Venice. [Act HI. 
 
 I would be trebled twenty times myself; 
 
 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
 
 more rich; 
 That only to stand high in your account, 
 I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
 Exceed account; but the full sum of me 
 Is sum of — something, which, to term in gross, 
 Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised; 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old i6o 
 
 But she may learn; happier than this, 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn; 
 Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
 As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
 Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
 Is now converted: but now I was the lord 
 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 
 Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now. 
 This house, these servants, and this same myself, 170 
 Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring; 
 Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
 Let it presage the ruin of your love. 
 And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 
 Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
 Only my blood speaks to. you in my veins; 
 And there is such confusion in my powers, 
 As, after some oration fairly spoke 
 By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
 Among the buzzing pleased multitude; 180 
 
 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 
 
Scene II.] The Merchant of Venice. 55 
 
 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence; 
 O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead! 
 
 Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time, 
 
 That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper, 
 To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady! 
 
 Gra. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
 
 I wish you all the joy that you can wish; 190 
 
 For I am sure you can wish none from me: 
 And when your honours mean to solemnize 
 The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
 Even at that time I may be married too. 
 
 Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 
 
 Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. 
 My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours: 
 You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid; 
 You loved, I loved, for intermission 
 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 200 
 Your fortune stood upon the caskets 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. 
 
 Pot. Is this true, Nerissa? 
 
 Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. 
 
 Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? 210 
 
 Gra. Yes, faith ^ my lord. 
 
 Bass. Our feast shall be much honoured in your mar- 
 riage. 
 
56 The Merchant of Venice. [Act hi. j 
 
 Gra. But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? 
 
 What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio? 220 
 
 Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a Messenger from 
 
 Venice. 
 
 Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; 
 
 If that the youth of my new interest here 
 
 Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, 
 
 I bid my very friends and countrymen, 
 
 Sweet Portia, welcome. 
 Par. So do I, my lord: 
 
 They are entirely welcome. 
 Lor. I thank your honour. For my part, my lord, 
 
 My purpose was not to have seen you here; 
 
 But meeting with Salerio by the way, 
 
 He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 230 
 
 To come with him along. 
 Saler. I did, my lord; 
 
 And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
 
 Commends him to you. [Gives Bassanio a letter, 
 
 Bass. Ere I ope his letter, 
 
 T pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 
 Saler. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; J 
 
 Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there 
 
 Will show you his estate. [Bassanio opens the letter. 
 Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome. 
 
 Your hand, Salerio: what's the news from Venice? 
 
 How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 240 
 
 I know he will be glad of our success; 
 
 We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 
 Saler. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. 
 Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper, 
 
Scene IL] The Merchant of Venice. 57 
 
 That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek: 
 Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world 
 Could turn so much the constitution 
 Of any constant man. What, worse and worse! 
 With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself, 
 
 ^ And I must freely have the half of anything 250 
 That this same paper brings you. 
 
 Bass. O sweet Portia, 
 
 Here are a few of the unpleasant 'st words 
 That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady, 
 When I did first impart my love to you, 
 I freely told you all the wealth I had 
 Ran in my veins — I was a gentleman, 
 And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady. 
 Rating myself at nothing, you shall see 
 How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
 My state was nothing, I should then have told 
 
 you 260 
 
 That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed, 
 I have engaged myself to a dear friend. 
 Engaged my friend to his mere enemy, 
 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady; 
 The paper as the body of my friend. 
 And every word in it a gaping wound. 
 Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? 
 Hath all his ventures fail'd ? What, not one hit ? 
 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 
 From Lisbon, Barbary, and India? 270 
 
 And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch 
 Of merchant-marring rocks ? 
 
 Saler. Not one, my lord. 
 
 Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
 
58 The Merchant of Venice. [Act ill. 
 
 The present money to discharge the Jew, 
 
 He would not take it. Never did I know 
 
 A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
 
 So keen and greedy to confound a man: 
 
 He plies the Duke at morning and at night ; 
 
 And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 
 
 If they deny him justice: twenty merchants, 280 
 
 The Duke himself, and the magnificoes 
 
 Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; 
 
 But none can drive him from the envious plea 
 
 Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 
 
 Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear 
 To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, 
 That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
 Than twenty times the value of the sum 
 That he did owe him: and I know, my lord. 
 If law, authority and power deny not, 290 
 
 It will go hard with poor Antonio. 
 
 Por. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? 
 
 Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man. 
 The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit 
 In doing courtesies; and one in whom 
 The ancient Roman honour more appears 
 Than any that draws breath in Italy. 
 
 Por. What sum owes he the Jew? 
 
 Bass. For me three thousand ducats. 
 
 Por. What, no more? 
 
 Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; 300 
 Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
 Before a friend of this description 
 Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
 First go with me to church and call me wife, 
 
Scene III ] The Merchant of Venice. 59 
 
 And then away to Venice to your friend; 
 For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
 With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
 To pay the petty debt twenty times over: 
 When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 
 My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 310 
 
 Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! 
 For you shall hence upon your wedding-day: 
 Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer: 
 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 
 But let me hear the letter of your friend. 
 
 Bass. \reads^ Sweet Bassanio, my ships have 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 320 
 might but see you at my death. Notwith- 
 standing, 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, 
 I will make haste: but, till I come again, 
 No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay. 
 
 Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 Venice. A street. 
 Enter Shylock, Salarino, Antonio, and Jailer. 
 
 Shy. Jailer, look to him: tell not me of mercy; 
 This is the fool that lent out money gratis; 
 Jailer, look to him, 
 
6o The Merchant of Venice. [Act ni. 
 
 Ant. Hear me yet, good Shy lock. 
 
 Shy. I 11 have my bond; speak not against my bond: 
 I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 
 Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause; 
 But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs: 
 The Duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, 
 Thou naughty jailer, that thou art so fond 
 To come abroad with him at his request. lo 
 
 Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 
 
 Shy. I '11 have my bond; I will not hear thee speak: 
 I '11 have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
 I '11 not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
 To Christian intercessors. Follow not; 
 I'll have no speaking: I will have my bond. [Exit. 
 
 Solar. It is the most impenetrable cur 
 That ever kept with men. 
 
 Ant. Let him alone: 
 
 I'll 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. 
 
 Solar. 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 the state; 
 Since that the trade and profit of the city 30 
 
 Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go: 
 These griefs and losses have so b^ted me, 
 
ScExNE IV.] The Merchant of Venice. 6i 
 
 That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
 To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 
 Well, jailer, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 
 To see me pay his debt, and then I care not! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 
 
 Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthasar. 
 
 Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 
 You have a noble and a true conceit 
 Of god-like amity; which appears most strongly 
 In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
 But if you knew to whom you show this honour, 
 How true a gentleman you send relief. 
 How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
 I know you would be prouder of the work 
 Than customary bounty can enforce you. 
 
 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, 
 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 cruelty! 
 Thi§ comes too near the praising of myself; 
 
62 The Merchant of Venice. [Act hi. 
 
 Therefore no more of it: hear other things. 
 
 Lorenzo, I comniit 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 we will abide. I do desire you 
 
 Not to deny this imposition; 
 
 The which my love and some necessity 
 
 Now lays upon you. 
 
 Lor. Madam, with all my heart; 
 
 I shall obey you in all fair commands. 
 
 Por. My people do already know my mind. 
 And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
 In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
 So fare you well, till we shall meet again. 40 
 
 Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you! 
 
 Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
 
 Por. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased 
 To wish it back on you: fare you well, Jessica. 
 
 [Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo. 
 Now, Balthasar, 
 
 As I have ever found thee honest-true. 
 So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, 
 And use thou all the endeavour of a man 
 In speed to Padua: see thou render this 
 Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario; 50 
 
 And, look, what notes and garments he doth give- 
 thee, 
 
Scene IV.] The Merchant of Venice. 63 
 
 Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed 
 Unto the traject, to the common ferry 
 Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, 
 But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee. 
 
 Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [Exit. 
 
 Por. Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand 
 
 That you yet know not of; we '11 see our husbands 
 Before they think of us. 
 
 Ner, Shall they see us? 
 
 Por. They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit, 60 
 
 That they shall think we are accomplished 
 With that we lack. I '11 hold thee any wager, 
 When we are both accoutred like young men, 
 I'll 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 practise. 
 
 Ner. Why, shall we turn to men? 
 
 Por. Fie, what a question 's that, 
 
 If thou wert near a lewd interpreter! 80 
 
 But come^ I '11 tell thee all my whole device 
 
64 The Merchant of Venice. [Act hi. 
 
 When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
 At the park-gate; and therefore haste away, 
 For we must measure twenty miles to-day. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 The same. A garden. 
 Enter Launcelot and Jessica. 
 
 Latin. Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the 
 father are to be laid upon the children: 
 therefore, I promise you, I fear you. I was 
 always plain with you, and so now I speak my 
 agitation of the matter: therefore be o' good 
 cheer; for, truly, I think you are damned. 
 There is but one hope in it that can do you 
 any good: and that is but a kind of bastard 
 hope neither. 
 
 Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee? 10 
 
 Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father 
 got you not, that you are not the Jew's 
 daughter. 
 
 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, 
 
Scene V.] The Merchant of Venice. 65 
 
 Latin. 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's no mercy for me in heaven, because I 
 am a Jew's daughter: and he says, you are no 
 good member of the commonwealth; for, in 
 converting Jews to Christians, you raise the 
 price of pork. 
 
 Lor. I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn 
 
 into silence; and discourse grow commendable 50 
 in none only but parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid 
 them prepare for dinner. 
 
 Laun. That is done, sir; they have all stomachs. 
 
 Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! 
 then bid them prepare dinner. 
 
 Laun. That is done too, sir; only 'cover' is the 
 word. 
 
 Lor. Will you cover, then, sir? 
 
 Laun. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty. 
 
 Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt 60 
 
dS The Merchant of Venice. [Act m. 
 
 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 
 coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as 
 humours and conceits shall govern. [Exit. 
 
 Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited! 70 
 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 
 The Lord Bassanio live an upright life; 
 For, having such a blessing in his lady, 80 
 
 He finds the joys of heaven here on earth; 
 And if on earth he do not mean it, then 
 In reason he should never come to heaven. 
 Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match 
 And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
 And Portia one, there must be something else 
 Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude world 
 Hath not her fellow. 
 
 Lor. Even such a husband 
 
 Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 
 
 Jes. Nay, but ask my Opinion too of that. 90 
 
 Lor. I will anon: first, let us go to dinner. 
 
Scene V.J The Merchant of Venice. 67 
 
 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. [Exeunt. 
 
6S The Merchant of Venice. [Act iv. 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 
 » 
 Scene I. 
 
 Venice. A court of pistice. 
 
 Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, ' 
 Gratiano, Salerio, and others. 
 
 Duke. What, is Antonio here? 
 
 ^Ant. Ready, so please your Grace. 
 
 Duke. I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer 
 A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
 Uncap able of pity, void and empty 
 From any dram of mercy. 
 
 Ant. I have heard 
 
 Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
 
 His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, 
 
 And that no lawful means can carry me 
 
 Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose lo 
 
 My patience to his fury; and am arm'd 
 
 To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
 
 The very tyranny and rage of his. 
 
 Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 
 
 Saler. He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord. 
 
 Enter Shy lock. 
 
 Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face. 
 Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
 That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
 To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought 
 Thou 'It show thy mercy and remorse more strange 
 Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; 2i 
 
Scene L] The Merchant of Venice. 69 
 
 And where thou now exacts 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 purpose; 
 And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
 To have the due and forfeit of my bond: 
 If you deny it, let the danger light 
 Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
 You '11 ask me, why I rather choose to have 40 
 A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive 
 Three thousand ducats: I '11 not answer that: 
 But, say, it is my humour: is it answer 'd? 
 What if my house be troubled with a rat. 
 And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats 
 To have it baned? What, are you answer'd yet? 
 Some men there are love not a gaping pig; 
 Some, that are mad if they behold a cat; 
 And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose, 
 Cannot contain their urine; for affection, 50 
 
 Master of passion, sways it to the mood 
 Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer, 
 As there is no firm reason to be render' d, 
 
^o The Merchant of Venice. [Act iv. 
 
 Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; 
 
 Why he, a harmless necessary cat; 
 
 Why he, a woollen bag-pipe; but of force 
 
 Must yield to such inevitable shame 
 
 As to offend, himself being offended; 
 
 So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 
 
 More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 60 
 
 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
 
 A losing suit against him. Are you answer 'd? 
 
 Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 
 To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 
 
 Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answer. 
 
 Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love? 
 
 Shy. Hates. any man the thing he would not kill? 
 
 Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. 
 
 Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? 
 
 Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew: 70 
 You may as well go stand upon the beach, 
 And bid the main flood bate his usual height; 
 You may as well use question with the wolf. 
 Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; 
 You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
 To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, 
 When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven; 
 You may as well do any thing most hard. 
 As seek to soften that — than which what 's harder? — 
 His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you, 80 
 Make no moe offers, use no farther means, 
 But with all brief and plain conveniency 
 Let me have judgement and the Jew his will. 
 
 Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 
 
 Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
 
Scene L] The Merchant of Venice. 7 1 
 
 Were in six parts and every part a dticat, 
 
 I would not draw them; I would have my bond. 
 
 Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none? 
 
 Shy. What judgement shall I dread, doing no wrong? 
 You have among you many a purchased slave, 90 
 Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
 You use in abject and in slavish parts. 
 Because you bought them: shall I say to you, 
 Let them be free, marry them to your heirs? 
 Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds 
 Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
 Be season'd with such viands? You will answer 
 * The slaves are ours : ' so do I answer you : 
 The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 
 Is dearly bought; 'tis mine and I will have it. 100 
 If you deny me, fie upon your law! 
 There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
 I stand for judgement: 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. 
 
 Saler, My lord, here stays without 
 
 A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
 New come from Padua. 
 
 Duke. Bring us the letters; call the messenger. no 
 
 Bass, Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet! 
 The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, 
 Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 
 
 Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
 
 Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit 
 Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me: 
 
72 The Merchant of Venice. [Act IV. 
 
 You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, 
 Than to live still, and write mine epitaph. 
 
 Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk. 
 
 Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario? 
 
 Ner. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace. 
 
 [Presenting a letter. 
 
 Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? 121 
 
 Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. 
 
 Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
 Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can, 
 No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness 
 Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee? 
 
 Shy. No, none that thou hast wit though to make. 
 
 Gra. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog! 
 And for thy life let justice be accused. 
 Thou almost makest me waver in my faith, 130 
 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
 That souls of animals infuse themselves 
 Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit 
 Govern'd a wolf, who hang'd for human slaughter, 
 Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet. 
 And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam. 
 Infused itself in thee; for thy desires 
 Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous. 
 
 Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, 
 Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud: 140 
 Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
 To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. 
 
 Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend 
 A young and learned doctor to our court. 
 Where is he? 
 
Scene I.] The Merchant of Venice. 73 
 
 Ner. He attendeth here hard by, 
 
 To know your answer, whether you '11 admit him. 
 
 Dtike. With all my heart. Some three or four of you 
 Go give him courteous conduct to this place. 
 Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 
 
 Clerk, [reads] Your Grace shall understand that at 150 
 the receipt of your letter I am very sick : but in 
 the instant that your messenger came, in loving 
 visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome ; 
 his name is Balthasar. I acquainted him with 
 the cause in controversy between the Jew and 
 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 
 commend, — comes with him, at my importu- 160 
 nity, to fill up your Grace's request in my stead. 
 I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impedi- 
 ment to let him lack a reverend estimation ; for 
 I never knew so young a body with so old a 
 head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, 
 whose trial shall better publish his commenda- 
 tion. 
 
 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. Came you from old 
 Bellario? 
 Por. I did, my lord. 
 Duke. You are welcome: take your place. 170 
 
1 
 
 74 The Merchant of Venice. [Act iv. 
 
 Are you acquainted with the difference 
 
 That holds this present question in the court? 
 Por. I am informed throughly of the cause. 
 
 Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew? 
 Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 
 Por. Is your name Sliylock? 
 
 Shy. Shylock is my name. 
 
 Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow; 
 
 Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 
 
 Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. 
 
 You stand within his danger, do you not? i8o 
 
 Ant. Ay, so he says. 
 
 Por. Do you confess the bond? 
 
 Ant. I do. . 
 
 Per. Then must the Jew be merciful. 
 
 Shy. On what compulsion must I? tell me that. 
 Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd. 
 
 It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
 
 Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; 
 
 It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 
 
 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes 
 
 The throned monarch better than his crown; 
 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 190 
 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 
 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway; 
 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
 
 It is an attribute to God himself; 
 
 And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
 
 When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
 
 Though justice be thy plea, consider this. 
 
 That, in the course of justice, none of us 
 
Scene L] The Merchant of Venice. 75 
 
 Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; 200 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 
 To mitigate the justice of thy plea; 
 Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
 Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 
 
 Shy. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, 
 The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 
 
 Por. Is he not able to discharge the money? 
 
 Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court; 
 
 Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice, 210 
 
 I will be botmd to pay it ten times o'er, 
 
 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: 
 
 'Twill be recorded for a precedent, 220 
 
 And many an error, by the same example, 
 Will rush into the state: it cannot be. 
 
 Shy. A Daniel come to judgement! yea, a Daniel! 
 O wise young judge, how I do honour thee! 
 
 Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 
 
 Por. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee. 
 
 Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven: 
 Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? 
 No, not for Venice. 
 
 For, Why, this bond is forfeit; 230 
 
76 The Merchant of Venice. [Act iv. 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
 A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
 Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful: 
 Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. 
 
 Shy. When it is paid according to the tenour. 
 It doth appear you are a worthy judge; 
 You know the law, your exposition 
 Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law, 
 Whereof you are a well- deserving pillar. 
 Proceed to judgement : by my soul I swear 240 
 There is no power in the tongue of man 
 To alter me: I stay here on my bond. 
 
 Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
 To give the judgement. 
 
 For. Why then, thus it is: 
 
 You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
 
 Shy. O noble judge! O excellent young man! 
 
 For. For the intent and purpose of the law 
 Hath full relation to the penalty. 
 Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 
 
 Shy. 'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge! 250 
 How much more elder art thou than thy looks! 
 
 For. 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. 
 
 For. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 
 The flesh? 
 
 Shy. I have them ready. 
 
 For. 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? 
 
Scene L] The Merchant of Venice. 77 
 
 Por. It is not so express 'd: but what of that? 260 
 
 'Twere good you do so much for charity. 
 
 Shy. I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond. 
 
 Por. You, merchant, have you any thing to say? 
 
 Ant. But Uttle: I am arm'd and well prepared. 
 Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well! 
 Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you; 
 For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
 Than is her custom: it is still her use 
 To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
 To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 270 
 An age of poverty; from which lingering penance 
 Of such misery doth she cut me off. 
 Commend me to your honourable wife: 
 Tell her the process of Antonio's end; 
 Say how I loved you, speak ^me fair in death; 
 And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 
 Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
 Repent 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, 280 
 
 I 11 pay it instantly with all my heart. 
 
 Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
 Which is as dear to me as life itself; 
 But life itself, my wife, and 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, 
 
 (7ra. I have a wife, who, I protest, I love: 290 
 
 I would she were in heaven, so she could 
 
78 The Merchant of Venice. [Act iv. 
 
 Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 
 Ner. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back; 
 
 The wish would make else an unquiet house. 
 Shy. These be the Christian husbands. I have a 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. 
 Por. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine: 
 
 The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 300 
 Shy. Most rightful judge! 
 Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast: 
 
 The law allows it, and the court awards it. 
 Shy. Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, prepare! 
 Por. Tarry a little; there is something else. 
 
 This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; 
 
 The words expressly are ' a pound of flesh : ' 
 
 Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh; 
 
 But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
 
 One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
 
 Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 311 
 
 Unto the state of Venice. 
 Gra. O upright judge! Mark, Jew: O learned judge! 
 Shy. Is that the law? 
 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! 
 Shy. I take this oifer, then; pay the bond thrice, 
 
 And let the Christian go. 
 Bass. Her§ is the money, 
 
 Por. Soft! 32Q 
 
Scene I.] The Merchant of Venice. 79 
 
 The Jew shall have all justice; soft! no haste: 
 He shall have nothing but the penalty. 
 
 Gra. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge! 
 
 Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
 
 Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less nor more 
 
 But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut'st more 
 
 Or less than a just pound, be it but so much 
 
 As makes it light or heavy in the substance, 
 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 
 Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 330 
 
 But in the estimation of a hair. 
 
 Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. 
 
 Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! 
 
 Now, infidel, I have 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! 340 
 
 I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 
 
 Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal? 
 
 Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, 
 To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 
 
 Shy. Why, then the devil give him good of it! 
 I '11 stay no longer question. 
 
 Por. Tarry, Jew; 
 
 The law hath yet another hold on you. 
 It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
 If it be proved against an alien 
 That by direct or indirect attempts 350 
 
 H(? se§l^ th§ life of any citizen, 
 
8o The Merchant of Venice. [Act iv. 
 
 The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
 
 Shall seize one half his goods; the other half 
 
 Comes to the privy coffer of the state; 
 
 And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
 
 Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
 
 In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st; 
 
 For it appears, by manifest proceeding, 
 
 That indirectly, and directly too. 
 
 Thou hast contrived against the very life 360 
 
 Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd 
 
 The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 
 
 Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke. 
 
 Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself: 
 And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
 Thou hast not left the value of a cord; 
 Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. 
 
 Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits, 
 I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it: 
 For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's; 370 
 
 The other half comes to the general state, 
 Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 
 
 Pot. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 
 
 Shy. Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that: 
 
 You take my house, when you do take the prop 
 That doth sustain my house; you take my life, 
 When you do take the means whereby I live. 
 
 Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio? 
 
 Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake. 
 
 Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court 380 
 To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
 I am content; so he will let me have 
 The other half in use, to render it, 
 
Scene!.] The Merchant of Venice. 8l 
 
 Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
 
 That lately stole his daughter: 
 
 Two things provided more, that, for this favour, 
 
 He presently become a Christian; 
 ' The other, that he do record a gift, 
 
 Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, 
 
 Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 390 
 
 Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 
 
 The pardon that I late pronounced here. 
 Por. Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say? 
 Shy. I am content. 
 
 Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 
 
 Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence; 
 
 I am not well: send the deed after me. 
 
 And I will sign it. 
 Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 
 
 Gra. In christening shalt thou have two godfathers: 
 
 Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more. 
 
 To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 400 
 
 [Exit Shy lock. 
 Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 
 Por. I humbly do. desire your Grace of pardon: 
 
 I must away this night toward Padua, 
 
 And it is meet I presently set forth. 
 Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 
 
 Antonio, gratify this gentleman. 
 
 For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 
 
 [Exeunt Duke and his train. 
 Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
 
 Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
 
 Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof, 410 
 
 Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
 
82 The Merchant of Venice. [Act iv. 
 
 We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 
 Ant. And stand indebted, over and above, 
 
 In love and service to you evermore. 
 Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied; 
 
 And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 
 
 And therein do account myself well paid: 
 
 My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
 
 I pray you, know me when we meet again: 
 
 I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 420 
 
 Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further: 
 
 Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
 
 Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you, 
 
 Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 
 Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 
 
 Give me your gloves, I 11 wear them for your sake; 
 
 [To Ant. 
 
 And, for your love, I '11 take this ring from you: 
 
 [To Bass. 
 
 Do not draw back your hand; I '11 take no more; 
 
 And you in love shall not deny me this. 
 Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle! 430 
 
 I will not shame myself to give you this. 
 Por. I will have nothing else but only this; 
 
 And now methinks I have a mind to it. 
 Bass. There 's more depends on this than on the value. 
 
 The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 
 
 And find it out by proclamation: 
 Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 
 Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: 
 
 You taught me first to beg; and now methinks 
 
 You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 440 
 Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; 
 
Scene II.] The Merchant of Venice. 83 
 
 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. 
 And if your wife be not a mad- woman, 
 And know how well I have deserved this ring, 
 She would not hold out enemy for ever, 
 For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you! 
 
 [Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring: 
 
 Let his deservings and my love withal 450 
 
 Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. 
 
 Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him; 
 
 Give him the ring; and bring him, if thou canst, 
 Unto Antonio's house: away! make haste. 
 
 [Exit Gratiano. 
 Come, you and I will thither presently; 
 And in the morning early will we both 
 Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio. [Exeunt, 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 The same. A street. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed 
 And let him sign it: we '11 away to-night 
 And be a day before our husbands home: 
 This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gra. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en: 
 
 My Lord Bassanio upon more advice , 
 
84 The Merchant of Venice. [Act iv. 
 
 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 3^ou, 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 '11 outface them, and outswear them too. 
 [Aloud] Away! make haste: thou know'st where 
 I will tarry. 
 Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
Scene L] The Merchant of Venice. 85 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 Scene I. 
 Belmont. Avenue to Portia's house. 
 Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 
 
 Lor. The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
 And they did make no noise, in such a night 
 Troilus methinks mounted the Trojan walls, 
 And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
 Where Cressid lay that night. 
 
 Jes. In such a night 
 
 Did Thisbe fearfulty 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 ro 
 
 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, 
 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. 
 
86 The Merchant of Venice. [Act V. 
 
 Lor. In such a night 20 
 
 Did pretty Jessica, Hke a Httle 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 conies so fast in silence of the night? 
 
 Steph. A friend. 
 
 Lor. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, 
 friend? 
 
 Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word 
 My mistress will before the break of day 
 Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about 30 
 
 By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
 For happy wedlock hours. 
 
 Lor. Who comes with her? 
 
 Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid. 
 I pray you, is my master yet return'd? 
 
 Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. 
 But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
 And ceremoniously let us prepare 
 Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 
 
 Enter Launcelot. 
 
 Laun. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola! 
 
 Lor. Who calls? 40 
 
 Laun. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? Master 
 
 Lorenzo, sola, sola! 
 Lor. Leave hollaing, man: here. 
 Laun. Sola! where? where? 
 Lor, Here. 
 
Scene I.] The Merchant of Venice. 87 
 
 Laun. Tell him there 's a post come from my master, 
 with his horn full of good news : my master will 
 be here ere morning. [Exit. 
 
 Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming. 
 And yet no matter: why should we go in? 50 
 
 My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you. 
 Within the house, your mistress is at hand; 
 And bring your music forth into the air. 
 
 [Exit Stephano. 
 How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patens of bright gold: 
 There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 61 
 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls; 
 But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 
 
 Enter Musicians. 
 
 Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn! 
 
 With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear. 
 
 And draw her home with music. [Music. 
 
 Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 
 
 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; 
 
88 The Merchant of Venice. [Act v. 
 
 If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
 
 Or any air of music touch their ears, 
 
 You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
 
 Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 
 
 By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet 
 
 Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods; 
 
 Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, 8i 
 
 But music for the time doth change his nature. 
 
 The man that hath no music in himself, 
 
 Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; 
 
 The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
 
 And his aifections dark as Erebus: 
 
 Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. 
 
 Enter Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. 
 
 How far that little candle throws his beams! 90 
 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
 
 Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. 
 
 Por, So doth the greater glory dim the less: 
 A substitute shines brightly as a king. 
 Until a king be by; and then his state 
 Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
 Into the main of waters. Music! hark! 
 
 Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. 
 
 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, 
 
Scene L] The Merchant of Venice. 89 
 
 When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
 
 No better a musician than the wren. 
 
 How many things by season season'd are 
 
 To their right praise and true perfection! 
 
 Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
 
 And would not be awaked. [Music ceases. 
 
 Lor. That is the voice, no 
 
 Or I am much deceived, of Portia. 
 Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, 
 
 By the bad voice. 
 Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. 
 
 Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare. 
 
 Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
 
 Are they return 'd? 
 Lor. Madam, they are not yet; 
 
 But there is come a messenger before, 
 
 To signify their coming. 
 Por. Go in, Nerissa; 
 
 Give order to my servants that they take 
 
 No note at all of our being absent hence; 120 
 
 Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. 
 
 [A tucket sounds. 
 Lor. Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet: 
 
 We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. 
 Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick; 
 
 It looks a little paler: 'tis a day, 
 
 Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 
 
 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 ^ive light, but let me not be light; 
 
90 The Merchant of Venice. [Act v. 
 
 For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 130 
 
 And never be Bassanio so for me: 
 
 But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord. 
 Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend. 
 
 This is the man, this is Antonio, 
 
 To whom I am so infinitely bound. 
 Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, 
 
 For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 
 Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. 
 Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: 
 
 It must appear in other ways than words, 140 
 
 Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 
 Gra. [To Nerissa] By yonder moon I swear you do me 
 wrong ; 
 
 In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk: 
 
 Por. A quarrel, ho, already! what 's the matter? 
 
 Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
 That she did give me, whose posy was 
 For all the world like cutler's poetry 
 Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.' 150 
 
 Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value? 
 You swore to me, when I did give it you. 
 That you would wear it till your hour of death, 
 And that it should lie with you in your grave: 
 Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, 
 You should have been respective, and have kept it. 
 Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge. 
 The clerk will ne'er wear hair on 's face that had it. 
 
 Gra. He will, and if he live to be a man. 
 
 Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man, iOq 
 
Scene I.] The Merchant of Venice. 91 
 
 Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
 A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy. 
 No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, 
 A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee: 
 I could not for my heart deny it him. 
 
 Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you. 
 To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; 
 A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger 
 And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
 I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 170 
 Never to part with it; and here he stands; 
 I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it 
 Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
 That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
 You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief: 
 And 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 
 
 Bass. {Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off. 
 And swear I lost the ring defending it. 
 
 Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
 
 Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 180 
 
 Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk, 
 That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine; 
 And neither man nor master would take aught 
 But the two rings. 
 
 Por. What ring gave you, my lord? 
 
 ■ Not that, I hope, which you received of me. 
 
 Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
 
 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. 
 
 Bv heaven, I will ne'er come in vour bed 190 
 
 IJntil I see the ring, 
 
92 The Merchant of 4j^nice. [Act v. 
 
 Ner. Nor I in yours 
 
 Till I a'gain see mine. 
 
 Bass. Sweet Portia, 
 
 If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
 
 If you did know for whom I gave the ring. 
 
 And would conceive for what I gave the ring, 
 
 And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
 
 When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
 
 You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 
 
 Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring. 
 
 Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 200 
 
 Or your own honour to contain the ring, 
 
 You would not then have parted with the ring. 
 
 What man is there so much unreasonable. 
 
 If you had pleased to have defended it 
 
 With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
 
 To urge the thing held as a ceremony? 
 
 Nerissa teaches me what to believe: 
 
 I'll 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 had held up the very life 
 
 Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? 
 
 I was enforced to send it after him; 
 
 I was beset with shame and courtesy; 
 
 My honour would not let ingratitude 
 
 So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady; 
 
 For, by these blessed candles of the night, 220 
 
 Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd 
 
 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor, 
 
Scene L] The Merchant of Venice. 93 
 
 For. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house: 
 Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, 
 And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
 I will become as liberal as you; 
 I '11 not deny him any thing I have. 
 
 Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 
 Por. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome notwithstanding. 
 Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; 240 
 
 And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
 
 I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 
 
 Wherein I see myself, — 
 Por. Mark you but that! 
 
 In both my eyes he doubly sees himself; 
 
 In each eye, one: swear by your double self, 
 
 And there's an oath of credit. 
 Bass. Nay, but hear me: 
 
 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 250 
 ring, . 
 
 Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, 
 
 My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
 
 Will never more break faith advisedly. 
 For, 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. 
 Bas^. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! 
 
 For. You are all amazed: 
 
 Here is a letter; read it at your leisure* 
 It comes from Padua, from Bellarig; 
 
94 The Merchant of Venice. [Act v. 
 
 There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
 Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here 270 
 
 Shall witness I set forth as soon as you, 
 And even but now return'd; I have not yet 
 Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome; 
 And I have better news in store for you 
 Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; 
 There you shall find three of your argosies 
 Are richly come to harbour suddenly: 
 You shall not know by what strange accident 
 I chanced on this letter. 
 Ant. I am dumb. 
 
 Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; 
 For here I read for certain that my ships 
 Are safely come to road. 
 
 Por. How now, Lorenzo! 
 
 My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 
 
 Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. 290 
 
 There do I give to you and Jessica, 
 From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 
 After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. 
 
 Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
 Of starved people. 
 
 Por. It is almost morning, 
 
 And yet I am sure you are not satisfied 
 Of these events at full. Let us go in; 
 And charge us there upon inter'gatories, 
 And we will answer all things faithfully. 
 
 Gra. Well, while I live I '11 fear no other thing 
 
 So sor^ as keeping safe Nerissa's ring, [Exeunt. 
 
Critical and Explanatory Notes 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 The first few scenes of a drama are usually devoted to what is 
 technically called the Exposition; that is, to explaining the 
 situation, to giving some idea of the characters of the drama, 
 and to getting the story, or action, started. There are various 
 ways in which this may be done. In the Comedy of Errors, for 
 instance, the old merchant ^Egeon relates in the first scene the 
 whole story of his life, introducing among other things the two 
 pairs of twin boys on whose amazing similarity the whole action 
 of the drama turns. In Richard III. the chief character ad- 
 vances at once to the footlights and tells the audience that he is 
 the villain of the play and that he proposes to usurp the crown 
 of England. These two plays are early works of Shakespeare, 
 and do not show by any means such mastery of the playwright's 
 art as does the Merchant of Venice. Here the characters are 
 introduced and the story started in the simplest and most 
 natural manner, that is, in conversation between the personages 
 of the play. We see the great merchant who gives his name to 
 the play, and hear of his richly-laden ships at sea and of the 
 melancholy that has overshadowed his spirits. Gratiano, the 
 comic gentleman, reveals his own character in his attempt to 
 laugh Antonio out of his sadness. Finally, Bassanio, the hero, 
 or, at least, the leading gentleman of the drama, sets the story 
 going by his appeal to Antonio for a loan wherewith he may 
 go a-courting. Antonio's answer shows on how precarious a 
 footing his riches rest, and his willingness to borrow at any risk 
 
 95 
 
96 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act i. 
 
 in order to oblige his friend is the direct cause of the future 
 compHcations of the play. 
 
 I. sad. This quiet sadness is one of the distinguishing 
 features of Antonio's character. It is not, however, easy to 
 assign a definite reason for it. We ought, perhaps, to think of 
 it merely as a constitutional disposition toward melancholy. 
 Antonio seems to be one of those unhappy rich men who have 
 nothing in particular to live for. If he had any object in life, 
 it was to assist his young friend, Bassanio, and he now suspects 
 that this friend is soon to be separated from him by marriage. 
 This melancholy, which leads him to regard the world as a 
 stage where he has but a sad part to play, seems also to m.ake 
 him somewhat careless as to how he plays his part, and perhaps 
 explains why he was foolish enough to sign a bond with such a 
 penalty as Shylock suggested. 
 
 5. / am to learn; I have yet to learn. 
 
 8. ocean; a trisyllable: o-ce-an. So in 11. 102 and 139 opinion 
 and occasions have one syllable more than our present pro- 
 nunciation gives them. In Shakespeare's day the pronuncia- 
 tion of such terminations as -ean, -ion, etc., was unsettled. 
 Sometimes they were pronounced as two syllables, sometimes 
 as one. Thus affections, 1. 16, and opinion, 1. 91, are pronounced 
 in our present fashion. The rhythm of the line will always 
 show the proper pronunciation. When such a termination 
 occurred at the close of the line, it was usually, though not 
 always, as 1. 91 shows, pronounced as a dissyllable. 
 
 12. petty traffickers; the little ships that dance and seem to 
 curt'sy in the wake of the portly argosies. 
 
 18. where sits the wind. This passage was, perhaps, sug- 
 gested by some lines in the first scene of the Jew of Malta, 
 where Barrabas is represented as watching the wind and cal- 
 culating what effect it will have on his ships at sea. 
 
 23. blow me to an ague; give me a chill, make me shake with 
 fear. 
 
 27. Andrew; used here as the name of a ship. It was com- 
 mon in Shakespeare's day to name ships after §aints, Thus 
 
Scene I.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 97 
 
 in the Spanish Armada there were ships called St. Philip, 
 St. Matthew, St. John, and St. Martin. 
 
 29. her burial; the sand in which the ship lies half-buried. 
 
 35. This; the word is accompanied by an emphatic gesture 
 indicating a great amount. 
 
 38. bechanced; if it chanced. The participle is used condi- 
 tionally. 
 
 40. is sad to think upon; is sad because he is thinking of. 
 
 42-44. This statement of Antonio's does not agree with 
 what he says to Bassanio in 11. 177, 178. Perhaps he does not 
 care to tell Salanio and Salarino exactly how his fortune stands. 
 
 47. This line can be scanned either by pronouncing neither as 
 a word of one syllable, ne'er, which is not infrequent with 
 Shakespeare; or by contracting let us to let's. The latter 
 method is perhaps the better. 
 
 50. This line is an Alexandrine, that is, a line of six feet, 
 with an extra syllable at the end. Scan: 
 
 " Because | you are | not sad. | ] Now by | two head- | ed Jan | us." 
 Janus; the Roman god of gates and doors, who was 
 always represented with two faces, looking before and after. 
 
 52. peep through their eyes; half-close the eyes, as men do 
 when they laugh loudly. 
 
 53. laugh like parrots at a bag-piper; laugh as foolishly as 
 parrots do when they mock a bag-piper with silly cackles. 
 
 56. Nestor; the oldest and wisest of the Grecian chiefs who 
 fought at Troy. If he pronounced a jest laughable, it was 
 certainly very funny. 
 
 ■ 62-64. Antonio's courtesy will not allow Salarino to say that 
 he is driven away by the arrival of worthier friends. 
 
 66. when shall we laugh; when shall we have a merry meeting. 
 
 67. must it be so; must you always be so reserved. 
 
 68. "We'll wait upon you whenever you are at leisure to 
 receive us." 
 
 69. The last two syllables in the proper names are in each 
 case pronounced as monosyllables. Scan: 
 
 *' My Lord | Bassan \ io, since | you've found | Anton | io." 
 
gS Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act I. 
 
 77. / hold the world but as the world; I do not think the world 
 any better or happier than it really is. 
 
 78. a stage. This comparison of the world, or of human life, to 
 a stage is frequent and not unnatural with Shakespeare, the 
 player and dramatist. In As You Like It, II. vii. 39. he says: 
 
 " All the world's a stage, 
 And all the men and women merely players." 
 And in Macbeth, V. v. 24. he says: 
 
 " Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player 
 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
 And then is heard no more." 
 
 79. play the fool. In opposition to Antonio, Gratiano would 
 like to play the part of the Fool, or Jester, in the drama of life. 
 
 80. old wrinkles; the wrinkles of old age. 
 
 81. my liver. The physiology of Shakespeare's day declared 
 the liver to be the seat of the emotions, such as fear, courage, 
 love, or hate. Thus Falstaff (2 King Henry IV, IV. iii. 112 
 seq.) speaks of a "liver pale and white, which is the badge 
 of pusillanimity and cowardice." " But sherris" (wine), he goes 
 on to say, "warms it; . . . and then the vital commoners and 
 petty inland spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart, 
 who, great and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of 
 courage; and this valour comes of sherris." 
 
 82. mortifying; used here in its etymological meaning, i.e., 
 killing, probably with allusion to the old belief that every sigh 
 or groan cost the heart a drop of blood. Thus in Midsummer- 
 Night's Dream, III. ii. 97. Shakespeare says of Helena: 
 
 " All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, 
 With sighs of love that cost the fresh blood dear." 
 
 83. " Sit cold and lifeless like the marble monument of his 
 grandfather. 
 
 85. peevish. The jaundice is a disease frequently caused by 
 mental trouble. A medical dictionary actually names peevish- 
 ness as one of the causes of this disease. 
 
 90. a wilful stillness entertain; cultivate an obstinate silence. 
 The subject, who, is understood from whose, 1. 88, 
 
Scene 1.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 99 
 
 93. Note the omission of the antecedent, one, before who. 
 
 95~97' Compare the saying of Solomon: " Even a fool when 
 he holdeth his peace is accounted wise; and he that shutteth 
 his lips is esteemed a man of understanding." (Proverbs 
 xvii. 28.) 
 
 98-99. damn those ears. The jest, such as it is, lies in the 
 allusion to a well-known passage in the Sermon on the Mount. 
 See Matthew v. 22. Note the omission of the subject pronoun 
 before the verb, would damn. 
 
 1 01. melancholy bait; bait of melancholy. 
 
 102. fool gudgeon. According to Izaak Walton, the great 
 authority on old-fashioned angling, the gudgeon is a stupid 
 and easily taken fish. 
 
 no. for this gear; a colloquial expression of no very definite 
 meaning; in this passage perhaps equivalent to for this reason, 
 i.e., on account of what you have said. We may imagine 
 Antonio saying this with a faint smile, as if Gratiano's chatter 
 had for a moment roused him from his melancholy. 
 
 111-112. These lines are doggerel, that is, they are written 
 in a jingling rhythm which is not reducible to regular metre. 
 
 122-139; 140-152; 161-176. These speeches deserve careful 
 study. They must not be read in the light of modem American 
 conceptions as to the duty of all men to work for a living, and 
 as to the shamefulness of fortune-hunting. No one in Shake- 
 speare's day would have thought it at all unbecoming in a poor 
 man to seek the hand of a rich woman whom he chanced to be in 
 love with. And it is plain from what Antonio says that he, who 
 was the soul of honor, saw nothing improper in Bassanio's hav- 
 ing squandered his fortune, such as it was, in living beyond 
 his means. 
 
 126-127, "Lament having to give up my extravagant mode 
 of life." 
 
 128. come fairly off from; get honorably clear of. 
 
 132-133. " Your affection authorizes me to confide in you." 
 
 137. within the eye of honour; within the limits of what can be 
 regarded as honorable. 
 
 LofC. 
 
lOO Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act L 
 
 139. your occasions; your requirements. 
 
 141. flight; a technical word in archery. Arrows of the same 
 flight had the same length and weight, and so would under 
 similar circumstances fly the same distance. 
 
 143. This line is an Alexandrine. Compare 1. 50. 
 
 144. this childhood proof; this experience of childish days. 
 
 145. pure innocence; mere folly. Bassanio feels that from a 
 business point of view it is rather absurd to ask his chief creditor 
 to lend him money to go a-courting with. But Antonio is not 
 so much a creditor as a loving friend, and so Bassanio dares to 
 propose this scheme to him. 
 
 148. self way; same way. 
 
 150. As I will watch; inasmuch as I shall watch. 
 
 150-151. or to -find . . . Or bring; either to find ... or to 
 bring. It is not quite clear how Bassanio meant to pay back 
 the further loan, your latter hazard, to Antonio in case his wooing 
 was unsuccessful. But, as he knew nothing of the conditions 
 by which alone Portia's hand was to be won, and had a well- 
 founded idea that the rich heiress cared for him (see 11. 163-164 
 and Scene ii. 11. 123-133), he did not dwell upon the unpleasant 
 possibility of failure. 
 
 154. to wind about my love with circumstances; to approach 
 me, who love you so well, in this roundabout way. 
 
 156. in making question of my uttermost; in seeming to doubt 
 my readiness to help you to the utmost. 
 
 161. richly left; rich in a fortune left her by her father. It is 
 worth noting that Bassanio, although he mentions Portia's 
 wealth, does not dwell upon it; but goes on to speak of her 
 virtues and her beauty, which had made a deep impression on 
 him in earlier days (see Scene ii, 11. 123-126) before he had 
 lost his fortune. 
 
 162. fairer than that word; better than beautiful. 
 
 163. virtues. This word had a broader meaning in Shake- 
 speare's time than it has to-day. It denotes here not only 
 Portia's moral, but also her intellectual qualities. 
 
 165. nothing undervalued; in no way inferior. 
 
Scene I.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. loi 
 
 1 66. Caio; Cato the Younger, one of the last heroes of republi- 
 can Rome, famous for the strictness of his life and the loftiness 
 of his ideals. His daughter, Portia, wife of Marcus Brutus, who 
 helped to murder Caesar, inherited her father's virtues, and was 
 famous in a dissolute age for her purity of life. When it was 
 evident that her husband's attempt to restore the republic was 
 doomed to failure, she committed suicide. Shakespeare has 
 drawn a noble portrait of her in his Julius CcBsar. 
 
 171. Colchos; Colchis, a country on the Black Sea. Accord- 
 ing to Grecian legend it was here that the wonderful golden 
 fleece was guarded by a dragon. Jason, a Grecian hero, came 
 in search of it, and by the aid of the enchantress Medea suc- 
 ceeded in carrying it off. 
 
 175. presages me such thrift; foretells me such success. 
 
 178-179. commodity to raise; merchandise on which to borrow. 
 
 181. rack'd; strained, like a man on the rack. 
 
 182. furnish thee to Belmont; equip you for paying your 
 addresses to Portia in a proper fashion. 
 
 185. " To get it either on my credit or byway of a friendly 
 loan." 
 
 Note the rhymed tag with which the scene closes; and see 
 remarks on the use of rhyme on p. 203. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What is the cause of Antonio's melancholy? 
 
 What traits of his character have been revealed in this scene ? 
 
 What sort of character is Gratiano? 
 
 What should we think of Bassanio's scheme for paying his 
 debts by means of a rich marriage? 
 
 Why did Bassanio need another loan to enable him to court 
 Portia? 
 
 What do Antonio's speeches to Bassanio show as to the 
 relation that exists between them? 
 
 How far has the plot been unfolded in this scene? 
 
I02 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act I. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 This scene belongs to the so-called Casket Story. It intro- 
 duces the heroine of the play, and tells us of the restrictions 
 which her father's strange will has placed upon her marriage. 
 Portia's remarks on her various suitors give us some idea of 
 her character — not a complete idea, to be sure, for the satirical 
 humor which plays so mischievously about her lovers is only 
 one phase of her rich and varied character. The mention of 
 Bassanio in 11. 123-133 shows something of the feeling which 
 Portia entertains for him. The message from the Prince of 
 Morocco (11. 136-138) marks the opening action of the Casket 
 Story. 
 
 I, Portia, like Antonio, is not in the happiest of humors when 
 the pl^y opens. But the cause of her touch of melancholy is 
 easy to discover. Young, talented, beautiful, and rich, she is 
 surrounded by suitors for whom she cares less than nothing, 
 yet any one of whom may, by a stroke of luck, become her 
 husband. The man to whom she has secretly given her heart, 
 on the other hand, remains away from Belmont. Fortunately 
 her sense of humor saves her from kicking in vain against 
 the pricks, and she makes the best of a bad situation by 
 laughing over its humorous side with her companion. 
 
 Nerissa, it should be noted, is not a lady's maid like the 
 soubrette of the modem stage. She is, herself, a lady, though 
 neither so rich nor so well bred as Portia. It was still common 
 in Shakespeare's day for girls of good families to enter into 
 attendance upon ladies of higher rank, from whom they received 
 not only material benefits, but also social and intellectual training. 
 
 3. You would be. Evidently Nerissa does not take Portia's 
 weariness of the world very seriously. " If you were as badly 
 off as you are well off," she says, " you might have reason to be 
 aweary of the world." 
 
 7, 8. Explain the play on the word mean in these lines. 
 
 14. chapels. A chapel was originally a shrine within a 
 
ScEiNE II.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 103 
 
 church; then it came to mean a small place of worship, either 
 within the church itself, or detached from it. 
 
 26-27. Note the play on the word will in these lines. 
 
 34. his meaning; the casket he (your father) meant to be 
 chosen. 
 
 36. who you shall rightly love. There has been a great deal of 
 dispute over this passage, for a brief summary of which see 
 Textual Notes, p. 162. The whole tone of the passage goes, I 
 think, to show that the word you^ omitted by many editors, 
 belongs in the text. Portia is complaining that her freedom 
 of choice is abolished by her father's will. Nerissa answers 
 that, no doubt, all will turn out for the best. The lottery will 
 never be rightly chosen except by a man whom Portia loves, 
 and so it will be the same as if her choice had never been 
 restricted. Who in this line is in the objective case, as often 
 in Shakespeare's day. Thus Jessica says (II. vi. 30), " Foj 
 who love I so much." 
 
 45. talk of his horse. The Neapolitans in Shakespeare's 
 time were famous for their horsemanship. 
 
 49. County Palatine. County means Count, as often in 
 Shakespeare. A Count Palatine is one who rules over a dis- 
 trict called a Palatinate, where he exercises almost regal author- 
 ity. The word is derived from the name of one of the seven 
 hills of Rome, Mons Palatinus, on which the dwelling of the 
 emperors, the palatium (palace) , stood. A Polish Count Palatine 
 had cut something of a figure in London a few years before 
 Shakespeare came there, and it is possible that he meant this 
 character to be thought of as a Pole. After all, it makes little 
 difference to what nationality the solemn prig belongs. 
 
 51. choose; do as you please, take me or leave me. 
 
 53. The weeping philosopher. A famous Greek philosopher, 
 Heraclitus, was given this title on account of his melancholy 
 views of life. 
 
 54. unmannerly sadness; unsuitable solemnity. 
 
 55-56. death' s-head with a hone in his mouth; a skull and cross 
 bones. 
 
104 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act I. 
 
 63. a better bad habit; a more pronounced trick. 
 
 75. Latin, French, nor Italian. In Shakespeare's day a 
 scholar was expected to be able to speak Latin fluently ; French 
 was the courtly language of Europe; and a traveller in Italy 
 ought to have known something of the language of that land. 
 But this young Englishman knew no tongue but his own; and 
 English in that day was almost unknown outside of Great 
 Britain. Fauconbridge has something of the true John Bull 
 about him: English is good enough for him; if others do not 
 know it, so much the worse for them. 
 
 80-81. round hose. Hose were knee-breeches. Round hose 
 were the fashion at this time in France; they were not loose 
 about the thigh, but padded out till they were quite round, as 
 may be seen in old portraits. The point of the joke on Faucon- 
 bridge is not merely that he imitated foreign styles, as English- 
 men at this time were constantly doing, but that he mixed up the 
 styles of various countries. Robert Greene, a writer of Shake- 
 speare's day, laughs at an Englishman who wore a Spanish 
 jacket, Venetian trousers, a French hat, and a German cloak. 
 Fauconbridge' s manners were apparently as irregular as his 
 costume. 
 
 83. It is amusing to note that after James of Scotland ascended 
 the English throne, the word Scottish in this line was changed to 
 other, for fear of offending his majesty. 
 
 85. a neighborly charity, in that he did not return the blow. 
 Of course he was really afraid to do so; but Portia mischievously 
 pretends to believe that he was too good a neighbor to Fau- 
 conbridge to hit him back. 
 
 88. the Frenchman. France and Scotland were old allies 
 against England and usually got the worst of it. So here the 
 Frenchman is represented as taking the Scotchman's part and 
 getting a box on the ear for his pains. 
 
 96. and, another form of an (if). 
 
 104. Rhenish wine; the strongest possible temptation to a 
 German toper. 
 
 113-114. by some other sort; in some other way. 
 
Scene II.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 105 
 
 116. Sibylla. There were nine sibyls, or prophetesses, in 
 classical legend, one of whom, the Cumasan Sibyl, obtained 
 from Apollo the boon that she should live as many years as she 
 could hold grains of sand in her hand. 
 
 117. Diana. The moon-goddess and virgin huntress was the 
 special patroness of chaste maidens. 
 
 127. as I think so was he called. Portia cannot help agreeing 
 with Nerissa; but she is so anxious to hide her feeling for Bas- 
 sanio that she pretends not to be very sure of his name. 
 
 135. the four strangers. This phrase is not consistent with 
 the preceding passage in which six suitors are mentioned. 
 Probably only four suitors were described in the play as Shake- 
 speare first wrote it, and two more were added by him at a 
 subsequent revision. One critic thinks that Fauconbridge 
 and the Scotch lord were added later as a sort of ' gag ' to set 
 the audience laughing. 
 
 146-147. Portia closes this prose scene with a bit of rhymed 
 doggerel, a ' tag' as it is called. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What do we learn from this scene about the conditions on 
 which Portia's marriage depends? 
 
 Why does Portia say she is weary of the world? 
 
 Is her melancholy deep-rooted and constitutional, or merely a 
 passing mood? 
 
 What particular phase of Portia's character is developed in 
 this scene? 
 
 What national traits of the Englishman, the Frenchman, and 
 the Gerinan are hit off in her comment on her suitors? 
 
 In what relation does Nerissa seem to stand toward Portia? 
 
 What passage connects this scene with the preceding one? 
 
 What announcement opens the way to a further development 
 of the Casket Story? 
 
io6 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [act i. 
 
 Scene IIL 
 
 This scene is more important to the action of the play than 
 either of the preceding. Indeed the real action may be said to 
 begin with this scene, the first two having been mainly devoted 
 to exposition. Yet there is a certain amount of exposition in 
 this scene as well; Shylock, the villain of the play, has to be 
 introduced, and something has to be done to make the relentless 
 cruelty which he displays later on credible and not altogether 
 unnatural. This is done in the most effective fashion by con- 
 trasting him with Antonio, and by showing the grounds for 
 the hatred, racial as well as personal, which he cherishes against 
 the wealthy merchant. Shylock's personality is developed 
 touch by touch with the most perfect art. All his speeches, 
 especially in this introductory scene, should be read with great 
 care, for besides their immediate purpose as a part of the stage 
 dialogue, they serve a second, but not less important, end in 
 revealing his strongly marked and complex character. An- 
 tonio's character is also further developed in this scene; we 
 notice one trait, at least, that we would hardly have suspected 
 from our previous knowledge. Bassanio plays in this scene a 
 comparatively unimportant part, but he is guilty of a piece of 
 selfishness which meets its just reward before the play is over. 
 
 Sir Henry Irving, the Shylock best known to the present gene- 
 ration of play- goers, represents the Jew as a man between fifty 
 and sixty years of age, infirm enough to need the support of a 
 stick, with an iron-gray wisp of beard. He wears in this scene a 
 sober brown gaberdine, an Oriental shawl girdle, and a close- 
 fitting black cap with a yellow line across it. 
 
 6. May you stead mef ; Can you help me? Bassanio's 
 triple question shows his impatience of Shylock's deliberate 
 manner. 
 
 17—18. his means are in supposition; his fortune is uncertain 
 because it is exposed to the perils of the sea. 
 
 18, Tripolis; not the well-known Barbary state, Tripoli, though 
 
Scene III.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 107 
 
 Antonio also traded with Barbary (III. ii. 272), but a sea-port 
 in Syria, near the modem city of Beyrout. It was a port 
 through which the commerce of Central Asia passed to Venice 
 and western Europe. 
 
 19. The Indies; probably the East Indies, although as a 
 matter of fact no Venetian galleys ever visited that part of the 
 world. The discovery of the sea-passage to India by the Cape 
 of Good Hope inflicted a severe blow on the prosperity of Venice, 
 which formerly had been the Mediterranean carrier of goods 
 coming from India by the overland route. 
 
 20. The Riaho; not the famous bridge of that name, but a 
 piazza or open square at the end of that bridge on an island 
 also called the Rialto, where merchants met to transact business 
 and talk over the news. 
 
 21. Mexico. Venice never had any trade with Mexico. In 
 Shakespeare's day this trade was monopolized by Spain, which 
 imported every year vast quantities of gold and silver from 
 Mexico. Shakespeare represents Antonio as engaging in this 
 profitable trade, without in the least caring whether it were 
 possible for him to do so or not. 
 
 35. Nazarite. To-day this word means a member of a pecul- 
 iar Jewish sect who drank no wine and never cut their hair. 
 To denote a citizen of Nazareth, we use the word ' Nazarene.' 
 But the word ' Nazarene ' appears for the first time in the 
 Authorized Version of the Bible, 16 13. In the earlier versions 
 a man of Nazareth was always called a Nazarite. Shylock no 
 doubt uses the word with an undertone of contempt. " Can any 
 good thing come out of Nazareth?" asked the scornful Phar- 
 isees, when they learned where Christ came from. 
 
 42. Note the change from prose to verse. Prose was good 
 enough for the business-like conversation between Shylock and 
 Bassanio, but when he had to express the Jew's feelings toward 
 his enemy, Shakespeare felt the need of using verse. It is a gen- 
 eral, though not an invariable, rule with Shakespeare that verse 
 is used in scenes where strong emotions have to be portrayed. 
 
 a fawning publican. The publicans, or tax-collectors, undey 
 
io8 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act I. 
 
 the Roman government were bitterly hated by the Jews, as may 
 be seen by many a passage in the New Testament. Shylock 
 therefore appHes the term to Antonio, the object of his special 
 hatred. The adjective fawning is probably meant to charac- 
 terize the warmth of Antonio's silent greeting of his friend. 
 We may, perhaps, imagine Antonio taking Bassanio in his 
 arms and kissing his cheeks in the demonstrative fashion of the 
 Latin races, while Shylock, glancing contemptuously at them, 
 pours out the bitterness of his heart in this speech, 
 44. low simplicity; base folly. 
 
 46. the rate; 15% per annum was a common charge at this 
 time among the Venetian Jews. 
 
 47. upon the hip; a term used to denote a certain hold in 
 wrestling. 
 
 52. interest. In Shakespeare's day this word had the same 
 disreputable meaning that usury has now. 
 
 55. by the near guess; as near as I can guess. 
 
 58-59. Tubal . . . will furnish me. This is a well-known trick 
 of usurers. In order to excuse their high rate of interest and 
 their pertinacity in pressing for repayment, they pretend to be 
 obliged to procure the money from a third party, on whom they 
 lay the blame. 
 
 60. In order to scan this line desire must be pronounced as a 
 word of three syllables, de-si-er. 
 
 It was Booth's custom when playing the part of Shylock to 
 turn his back upon Antonio when the merchant came upon the 
 stage. He remained in this position, even after Bassanio had 
 appealed to him, until with the words, " Rest you fair, good 
 signior," he suddenly turned and faced Antonio with a touch 
 of surprise, as if just aware of his presence. He then took off 
 his cap and addressed him obsequiously, but with a touch of 
 irony in voice and expression. 
 
 63. excess; like usance and usury and advantage (1. 71), equiva- 
 lent to interest. 
 
 64. ripe wants; wants which have reached such a stage that 
 they must be supplied as ripe fruit must be plucked. 
 
Scene III.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 109 
 
 65. he, i.e., Shylock; Antonio has tiirned and is now address- 
 ing Bassanio. For a discussion of the textual variations see 
 Textual Notes, p. 164. 
 
 72. The story of Jacob and the way in which he secured 
 his wages from Laban, his uncle and father-in-law, is told in 
 Genesis xxx. 
 
 74. his wise mother, Rebecca; see Genesis xxvii. 
 
 75. possessor, of the promised blessing which accompanied 
 the birthright. 
 
 ay, he was the third. These words are spoken in a tone of 
 exultation. Shylock fully approves of the deceitful trick by 
 which Rebecca and Jacob secured a blessing from the blind old 
 patriarch Isaac. 
 
 76. And what of himf Antonio interrupts rather impatiently. 
 He is not particularly interested in Jacob. 
 
 85. me, the so-called ethical dative. It is a mere expletive 
 whose only function in the sentence is to add emphasis to the 
 statement. 
 
 90. This was a way to thrive. Shylock wholly approves the 
 somewhat questionable device of Jacob, and cites it as an exam- 
 ple where business shrewdness, such as he himself practices, was 
 followed by God's blessing. Antonio in the following speech 
 altogether dissents from this view; " Do you think this story 
 was put in the Bible," he asks, " to justify usury?" 
 
 91. gold and silver ewes and rams. It was one of the com- 
 monplaces of those who preached against the taking of interest 
 that since gold was lifeless, it could not bring forth more gold, 
 and that therefore those who took interest were violating a 
 law of nature. 
 
 99. The devil can cite Scripture. For an instance of this see 
 Matthew iv. 6. 
 
 103. For the change in the received text see Textual Notes, 
 p, 166; falsehood here has the meaning not so much of deceit 
 as of dishonesty. Antonio is, of course, thinking of Shylock' g 
 attempt to excuse his usury by a quotation from the Bible. 
 
 no. a patient shrug. Here again it seems a§ if a passage 
 
no Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act i. 
 
 from the Jew of Malta were running in Shakespeare's head. In 
 Act II. scene iii. of that play Barrabas says: 
 
 " We Jews can fawn hke spaniels when we please: 
 I learned in Florence how to kiss my hand, 
 Heave up my shoulders when they call me dog, 
 And duck as low as any barefoot friar." 
 
 131. Antonio is not at all moved to pity by this recital of 
 Shylock's wrongs. So long as Shylock continues to take inter- 
 est, he will continue to treat him like a dog. 
 
 138. How you storm. Shylock pretends to be greatly alarmed 
 by Antonio's outburst. 
 
 146. single bond; a bond with your name alone upon it. 
 This sounds very kind, since it saves Antonio the trouble and 
 humiliation of hunting up another merchant to go on his bond 
 to Shylock. But really it is a crafty trick on Shylock's part to 
 get Antonio into his power. If another merchant had been on 
 the bond, he would have had to pay the money in case Antonio 
 failed. 
 
 149. expressed in the condition; stated in the formal bond. 
 
 162. teaches. This is not bad grammar. Teaches is an old 
 plural form, which was still in use in the north of England in 
 Shakespeare's day. 
 
 164. break his day; fail to pay the debt on the appointed day. 
 
 171. for my love; in regard to my loving offer (to lend money 
 without interest) do not wrong me by your suspicions. 
 
 This speech completes the entrapping of Antonio. If after 
 this he refuses to accept Shylock's loan on Shylock's own 
 terms, he will seem to himself to be cherishing base suspicions of 
 a man who is really trying to win his friendship. He quite 
 forgets the penalty in thinking of the friendly nature of the 
 offer. 
 
 177. knave; servant, with just a touch of its present meaning 
 of ' rogue.' 
 
 1 79. The Hebrew will turn Christian. Antonio says this with- 
 out a touch of irony; he thinks, ^s w§ shall see later on, that it 
 
Scene I.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. iii 
 
 would be the best thing in the world for Shylock to turn Chris- 
 tian. Booth used to grin at this remark as at a pleasant joke; 
 but when Antonio and Bassanio left the stage, he followed them 
 with a look of hatred that showed the bitterness of the insult, 
 as he regarded it, to his ancient faith 
 
 i8o. If Bassanio suspected the villain's mind beneath the 
 fair terms, he ought never to have let Antonio sign the bond. 
 But he needed the money badly and easily persuaded himself 
 that Antonio ought to be the best judge as to whether there 
 were any danger in the bond or not. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What trait of character is revealed in Shylock's conversation 
 with Bassanio? 
 
 What reasons does Shylock allege for his hatred of Antonio ? 
 r\ Why does Shylock tell Antonio the long story about Jacob ? 
 
 What state of mind is revealed by Shylock's recital of his 
 injuries? (11. 107—130.) 
 
 What effect does this speech have on Antonio? 
 
 How does Shylock persuade Antonio to sign the bond ? 
 
 What does Bassanio think of the bond? 
 
 Why does he allow Antonio to sign it ? 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Now that Antonio has signed the bond a period of three 
 months must elapse before it falls due. For the sake of dra- 
 matic effect Shakespeare wished to have this occur at the very 
 time when Bassanio wins the hand of Portia. It was necessary, 
 therefore, for him to devise some means to fill up the interval 
 and so give the spectators the impression of the passage of a 
 considerable space of time. How successfully he accomplished 
 this a consideration of the second act will show. It is a busy, 
 bustling act, of no less than nine scenes, some of them dealing 
 with the Casket Story, the rest with the elopement of Lorenzo 
 and Jes{?ica, The Casket scenes go to show what has already 
 
112 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act il. 
 
 been hinted at, that the choice of the caskets is by no means a 
 matter of pure chance, but rather dependent upon the character 
 of the suitor. The story of Lorenzo and Jessica not only serves 
 to fill up the time; but it also gives Shylock an additional 
 motive for revenge; and so adds another humanizing touch to 
 Shakespeare's portrait of his character. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 The stage direction of the first Folio is so picturesque that it 
 seems a pity not to keep it: Enter Morochus, a tawnie Moor all 
 in white, and two or three followers accordingly , with Portia, Nerissa 
 and their traine. Flo. (flourish) Cornets. 
 
 2. shadow'd livery of the burnished sun. Morocco speaks of 
 his dark complexion as if it were a suit bestowed upon him by 
 the sun. Livery in Shakespeare's day meant something like 
 ' uniform,' the special dress worn by the servants of a nobleman. 
 
 5. Phcehus, the sun-god. 
 
 6. make incision; cut the body, in order to drink a lady's 
 health in blood, a wild fashion of lovers in Shakespeare's day. 
 
 7. reddest. Red blood was regarded as a sign of courage. 
 
 20. The apparent compliment contained in this speech be- 
 comes more than doubtful when one thinks of the sarcasms 
 which Portia had heaped upon her previous suitors in the second 
 scene of the play. 
 
 25. The Sophy; the Shah of Persia. 
 
 26. Sultan Solyntan. Solyman the Magnificent, the Sultan 
 of Turkey, was at war with Persia in 1535. Morocco, as a 
 tributary prince, seems to have taken part in the campaign. 
 
 32. Hercules and Lichas. Hercules, one of the most famous 
 heroes of Grecian mythology, was remarkable for his enormous 
 strength. Lichas was an attendant of his, here called, in Eliza- 
 bethan fashion, his page. 
 
 35. Alcides; another name for Hercules. 
 
 42. be advis'd; listen to my advice, do not be rash in choosing. 
 
 43. Nor will not. The double negative is used for emphasis, 
 What is it that Morocco declares he will not do ? 
 
Scene 11.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 113 
 
 44. The temple; where Morocco must take the oath referred to 
 in 1. 40. 
 
 46. blest, used here as a superlative. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What do we learn of Morocco's character in this scene? 
 What is Portia's attitude toward him? 
 
 Is Portia's warning (11. 38-42) meant to discourage him from 
 choosing ? 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 This is a low-comedy scene introduced by way of change. 
 The audience in Shakespeare's day insisted on having a clown 
 or fool in each play to amuse them with songs and dances and 
 absurd speeches. In some of Shakespeare's plays a profes- 
 sional fool, or jester, plays this part; in others he introduces, 
 as here, a servant, or man of the people, whose ridiculous 
 attempts to imitate the manners and language of his betters 
 set the spectators laughing. The old stage direction for this 
 scene reads: " The Clowne alone.'' The word " clown" in Shake- 
 speare's day was often used to designate a country-fellow, such 
 as Launcelot proves to be. 
 
 I. will serve. There is a sort of mock battle between Launce- 
 lot's conscience, which bids him keep his engagement and go on 
 serving the Jew, and the devil, who tempts him to run away. 
 Launcelot is strongly inclined to run, and he here expresses the 
 hope that his conscience will finally yield and permit him to go. 
 
 4. Gohho, Sin Italian word meaning 'hunchback.' A stone 
 figure called the Gobbo di Rialto stood in the piazza in Venice 
 where the merchants met. 
 
 18. smack, grow to, had a kind of taste. These phrases all 
 mean about the same thing, namely, that Father Gobbo was 
 not quite so honest as he might have been. He had a little 
 touch of trickiness. " Grow to" is said to be a household phrase 
 applied to milk when it sticks to the bottom of the pan and 
 burns. 
 
 23, Counsel well. See Textual Notes, p. 168. 
 
114 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [ActII. 
 
 29. incarnation; a mistake, of course, for ' incarnate.' Launce- 
 lot is fond of using bigger words than he can manage and often 
 confuses them. He seems to have inherited this trick from his 
 father; see Gobbo's mistakes in 11. 133 and 152. 
 
 37. sand-blind, half-blind. Launcelot invents a third grade 
 of blindness midway between sand-blind and stone-blind, 
 which he calls " high-gravel-blind." 
 
 38—39. try confusions with him; play a trick on him. 
 
 47. Be God's sonties; By God's little saints. See Glossary 
 under Sonties. 
 
 49. cater-cousins; a term formerly applied to persons on terms 
 of 'cousin-ship,' i.e., intimate friendship, or familiarity, with 
 each other. It did not denote any blood relationship. 
 
 51. raise the waters; raise a storm, kick up the dust. 
 
 53. master; a title applied at that time only to esquires and 
 other gentlemen. Old Gobbo knows better than to call his son 
 ''Master Launcelot." 
 
 55. well to live; likely to live long, in good health. 
 
 56. a'; for he, as often in familiar dialogue in Shakespeare. 
 
 58. Launcelot, sir; that is, plain Launcelot, without any title 
 of master. 
 
 59. ergo, old man; therefore, because he is the friend of one 
 whom you call "your worship," he is Master Launcelot. 
 
 63. ergo, Master Launcelot. In the preceding speech old 
 Gobbo has unconsciously given his son the desired title by call- 
 ing him "your mastership." "Ergo, Master Launcelot," says 
 the youth, and drops the joke to "try confusions" with his 
 father in another fashion. 
 
 66. The Sisters Three; the three Fates. 
 
 82. give me your blessing. With these words Launcelot 
 kneels before his father, but with his back toward him. 
 
 98. Lord worshipped might he be; the Lord be praised. The 
 old man is so glad to get his son back from the gates of death 
 that he doesn't scold him for the joke. 
 
 99. What a beard. The sand-blind Gobbo touches Launce- 
 lot's long hair and mistakes it for a beard. 
 
Scene II ] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 115 
 
 no. have set up my rest; made up my mind. The term seems 
 to be taken from a game of cards and means to make an extra 
 bet on a hand. 
 
 115. me; another instance of the ethical dative, meaning, 
 perhaps, for m,e. 
 
 122. Supper . . . five of the clock. Gentlemen dined about 
 noon and took supper between five and six in Shakespeare's 
 time. 
 
 132. Instead of finishing his speech Launcelot seizes his 
 father and whirls him up to Bassanio to speak for him; but 
 before the old man has well started, Launcelot v/hirls him 
 round again. He keeps this up till Bassanio stops his foolery 
 and says " One speak for both." 
 
 142. frutify. Launcelot means certify. 
 
 144. a dish of doves; a mess of pigeons, a very appropriate 
 present for an Italian countryman to make to his son's master. 
 
 158. The old proverb; " God's grace is gear (wealth) enough." 
 
 167. table; the palm of his hand in which his fortune may 
 be read. No man in Italy, he thinks, has a better table, for 
 this hand of his offers to swear on the Bible that he will have 
 good luck. The sentence is unfinished; perhaps some conclu- 
 sion like " I'll be hanged" is to be understood. 
 
 169. a simple line of life. The line surrounding the ball of 
 the thumb is known in palmistry as the line of life. Sim-pie 
 means poor; used here, of course, ironically as below in 1. 172. 
 
 170. fifteen wives. Certain lines running down from the ball 
 of the thumb to the line of life are supposed in palmistry to 
 show how many times the owner of the hand will be married. 
 Launcelot doesn't seem very good at mental arithmetic; if he 
 is to marry eleven widows and nine maids, the total of his future 
 spouses is something more than fifteen. 
 
 173-174- 'to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed; 
 a slang phrase signifying the risks of matrimony. 
 
 176. for this gear; for this business, for bringing me such 
 good luck. 
 
 202. hood mine eyes. In Shakespeare's day men wore their 
 
Ii6 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act II. 
 
 hats at table. They took them off, however, while grace was 
 being said, and those who were, or pretended to be, devout 
 buried their faces in them. This is what Gratiano means by 
 hood mine eyes. 
 
 205. one well studied in a sad ostent; one who had made a 
 study of sober behavior. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What part does Launcelot play in the drama? 
 
 How does his passage from Shylock's service into Bassanio's 
 help to connect the various stories of the play? 
 
 What trait in Bassanio's character is shown in his conversa- 
 tion with Gratiano? 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 This short scene serves the double purpose of giving us a 
 glimpse of Shylock's home life and of starting the elopement 
 story. Jessica, the Jew's pretty daughter, is so unhappy with 
 her father that she says " Our house is hell," and eagerly 
 embraces the opportunity offered by Launcelot's departure to 
 send a letter to her Christian lover bidding him come and take 
 her away. 
 
 3. some taste, a little. 
 
 10. Tears exhibit my tongue. Unless Launcelot is making 
 one of his usual mistakes and uses exhibit for prohibit, the 
 phrase must mean ' ' my tears show the sorrow which my 
 tongue cannot speak." 
 
 12. get thee; for a wife. 
 
 20. this strife; between her duty to her father and her love 
 for Lorenzo. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 This scene continues the elopement story and introduces the 
 gay company of young gentlemen surrounding Jessica's lover. 
 It is not unnatural that she should prefer this society to the 
 tediousness of her father's house, a glimpse of which is given in 
 the next scenes. The mention of Shylock's invitation to supper 
 
Scene v.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 117 
 
 with Bassanio shows that Lorenzo will have a good chance to 
 carry off Jessica, and at the same time serves to sharpen Shy- 
 lock's anger against Antonio and Bassanio, whom he cannot 
 help regarding as accomplices in the elopement. 
 
 2. Disguise us. Lorenzo and his friends are planning to 
 present a masque at Bassanio's farewell supper. A masque 
 was a sort of amateur performance, half-ballet, half-play, 
 accompanied by vocal and instrumental music. It was in 
 special favor at Venice. 
 
 5. spoke us. Spoke means bespoke; us is the dative of interest 
 and means for ourselves. Torch-bearers usually attended a 
 party of masquers through the streets and lighted up their dance 
 in the house where they performed. 
 
 18. sup to-night with my new master. Since Shylock's friendly 
 loan he and the Christians are on such good terms that Bassanio 
 renews his invitation of L iii., and this time Shylock accepts 
 it. 
 
 20. take this. Lorenzo gives Launcelot a tip. 
 
 27. some hour; about an hour. 
 
 36. cross her foot; cross her trail and so get upon her track. 
 
 37. she, Misfortune personified. 
 
 38. she, Jessica. 
 faithless, infidel. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 Why is a party of masquers introduced here ? 
 
 "What is Shakespeare's design in having Shylock invited to 
 Bassanio's farewell supper? 
 
 Why should Bassanio ask him? 
 
 Which of the lovers seems to have planned the elopement, 
 and what trait of character does this reveal? 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 This scene carries on the elopement story and further develops 
 Shylock's character by showing how he treats his daughter. 
 
Ii8 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act 11. 
 
 3. gormandise. Compare Launcelot's view as to the amount 
 of food he got in Shylock's service. (II. ii. 113-114.) 
 
 14. go in hate; another of the little touches by which Shy- 
 lock's deeply rooted hatred of the Christians is revealed. In 
 the first act he had refused Bassanio's invitation to dine, but 
 now that his acceptance will help the prodigal Christian waste 
 his borrowed money he is quite willing to " smell pork." 
 
 16. loath to go. This vague foreboding of evil is not uncom- 
 mon in Shakespeare's plays. When the audience, which 
 knows what is coming, hears such an expression as this, it 
 sympathizes almost involuntarily with the speaker over whose 
 head the trouble is impending. 
 
 17. toward my rest; against my peace of mind. 
 
 18. m^oney-bags. It is an old superstition that to dream of 
 money means bad luck. 
 
 20. reproach; another of Launcelot's mistakes. What word 
 does he mean? 
 
 25. Black Monday; the Monday after Easter. It took this 
 name from a terrible day of storm and cold in which many men 
 in an English army perished under the walls of Paris. 
 
 26. Ash-Wednesday; the first day of Lent. It must have 
 been a strange year in which Black Monday fell out on Ash- 
 Wednesday; Launcelot of course is talking nonsense, like a 
 professional fool. 
 
 30. wry-necked fife; a flute with a twisted mouth-piece. 
 
 33. varnish'd faces; the painted, or masked, faces of the 
 masqueraders. 
 
 36. Jacob's staff; the staff with which Jacob, Shylock's great 
 ancestor, passed over Jordan on his way to Laban, his uncle. 
 
 43. a J ewes eye. An old phrase "worth a Jew's eye" was 
 used in Shakespeare's day to denote something very precious. 
 The phrase may, perhaps, date from the times when Jews were 
 tortured to force them to surrender their wealth. As Launcelot 
 uses the phrase, it has, besides this meaning, the sense of " worth 
 a Jew's looking at." By 'Jew' he means Jessica; Shakespeare 
 never uses the word 'Jewess.' See Textual Notes, p. 172. 
 
Scene VI.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 119 
 
 44. Hagar's offspring. The Ishmaelites, descended from 
 Hagar, Abraham's concubine, were despised by the Jews, who 
 were the descendants of Abraham's legitimate son, Isaac. 
 
 47. profit; either profitable employment, or improvement as 
 a servant. 
 
 50-51. that., .his = whose; this old English construction 
 is not infrequent in Shakespeare. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What trait of Shylock's character is shown in his conversation 
 with Launcelot? 
 
 Why does Shylock go to Bassanio's supper? 
 
 What trait of Shylock's character is shown in his conversation 
 with Jessica? 
 
 Why did he forbid her to look at the masqueraders in the 
 streets ? 
 
 Why does he tell her he may return at once? 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 This scene closes the sequence devoted to the elopement 
 story. Jessica's deliberate plunder of her father's treasure 
 chest fills him with a fiercer passion for revenge upon her Chris- 
 tian friends than her mere elopement could have done, and so 
 prepares us for Shylock's great outburst of passion when he 
 learns of her act. The report, at the very close of the scene, 
 of Bassanio's intention to start at once for Belmont shifts the 
 interest from the elopement of Jessica to the wooing of Portia, 
 and thus links this scene with the next following. 
 
 2. An Alexandrine, The pause due to the change of speakers 
 falls exactly in the middle of the line. 
 
 5. pigeons; the doves which were supposed to draw the chariot 
 of Venus. These birds, according to Salarino, so far partook of 
 the nature of their mistress, a proverbially fickle goddess, that 
 they were far readier to be on with a new love than remain 
 true to the old. It seems as if the speaker were expressing a 
 rather uncomplimentary doubt as to whether Lorenzo would 
 keep faith with Jessica. 
 
I20 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [ActII. 
 
 7. obliged faith; faith bound by a promise or oath. 
 
 10—12. untread . . . his tedious measures. The allusion seems 
 to be to a horse trained to perform a complex series of paces 
 and then to go back over them in reverse order. 
 
 17. the prodigal. The reference is, of course, to the prodigal 
 son of Christ's parable. 
 
 24. What is wanting to complete the regular metre in this 
 line ? 
 
 32. " God knows it, and so do you." 
 
 34. "I'm glad it is so dark that you cannot see me." 
 
 35. my exchange; referring, of course, to the change of clothes 
 that she has made. 
 
 42. too too light. There is a play on the word light, which in 
 Shakespeare's time meant 'frivolous' or 'wanton,' as well as 
 'bright.' 
 
 43. office of discovery; the business (office) of a torch-bearer 
 is to hold a light by which things are revealed (discovered) . 
 
 44. should be obscured; ought to be hidden. 
 
 51. by my hood; probably a gay oath by the hood of the cos- 
 tume he was then wearing. 
 
 a Gentile. There is probably a play here on the words 
 ' Gentile' and ' gentle,' the latter of which had the meaning of 
 ' well-born.' 
 
 At the close of this scene it has been Sir Henry Irving's 
 practice, when playing the part of Shylock, to come again upon 
 the stage and knock at the door of his empty house. When he 
 gets no answer he stares up at the dark windows with a wild 
 look of mingled fear and wrath before he rushes in. The 
 dumb-show is very effective, but is, of course, unwarranted by 
 Shakespeare's text, and is one of the many modern innovations 
 to increase the importance of Shylock's part in the play. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What connection has Gratiano's speech (11. 8-19) with the 
 dramatic situation ? 
 
 Is there any justification for Jessica's appropriation of her 
 father's gold and jewels? 
 
Scene vii] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 121 
 
 Would an Elizabethan audience consider this act a crime? 
 What dramatic purpose is served by the mention of Bassanio's 
 hasty departure for Belmont? 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 The caskets on which Portia's destiny depends appear for the 
 first time in this scene. We learn that each of them bears an 
 inscription which may either guide or mislead a suitor, and that 
 one of them contains Portia's picture as a sign that the right 
 choice has been made. Morocco, the first of Portia's lovers to 
 venture upon the choice, is a type of the men who cannot see 
 below the surface, but are guided wholly by appearances. He, 
 therefore, fails to win the lady, as her father had wished and 
 expected such suitors to fail. 
 
 4. who. Our present discrimination between who and which 
 was unknown in Shakespeare's time. 
 
 5. The inscriptions on the caskets are in Alexandrines to 
 distinguish them from the pentameter of the dialogue. 
 
 40. shrine; here, as elsewhere in Shakespeare, equivalent to 
 'image.' 
 
 41. Hyrcanian; Hyrcania was a wild district in Central Asia, 
 abounding in tigers. 
 
 44. whose amhitious head; whose swelling waves. 
 
 50-51. It were too gross to rib her cerecloth; it (lead) would 
 be too common a metal to enclose her shroud. 
 
 53. ten times undervalued. Silver in 1600 stood to gold in 
 about the ratio of 10 to i. 
 
 56. a coin. A gold coin bearing the figure of the archangel 
 Michael trampling on the dragon was in common circulation in 
 Shakespeare's day and was generally called an ' angel.' 
 
 58. an angel in a golden bed; Portia's picture, which Morocco 
 imagines to be contained in the golden casket. 
 
 63. a carrion Death; the skull of a dead man. 
 
 65-73. The inscription on the scroll is written in trochaic 
 tetrameter, that is in lines of four feet in each of which the 
 accent falls on the first syllable. The unaccented syllable of 
 the last foot of each line is missing. 
 
122 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [ActII. 
 
 67-68. " Many a man has lost his hfe only to look upon a 
 deceitful show, like the outside of the golden casket." 
 
 75. farewell heat and welcome frost; an inversion of an old 
 saying, " farewell frost," used on the departure of any unwel- 
 come thing or person. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What additional information about the caskets do we get in 
 this scene? 
 
 Why did Morocco choose the golden casket? 
 
 How does Morocco take his bad luck? 
 
 Putting this scene and the first scene of the act together what 
 may we learn of Morocco's character and of the nature of his 
 love for Portia? Would he have been a fit match for her? 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 This important scene carries us back to Venice, where we 
 learn of Shylock's wild outburst on his discovery of Jessica's 
 flight with his gold and jewels. It may seem strange that 
 Shakespeare omitted the strong dramatic effect which would 
 have been attained by bringing Shylock himself upon the stage 
 at the moment of this discovery. Perhaps he thought that 
 such a scene would be too tragic for a comedy like this. 
 
 The fact that the Duke of Venice came in person with Shylock 
 to search Bassanio's ship for the eloping couple shows that 
 however much Jews were despised at Venice, they were not 
 denied any of their legal rights by the officials of the state. It 
 is plain, therefore, that if Shylock comes to sue for the for- 
 feiture of his bond, he will receive full justice and not be driven 
 out of court simply because he is a Jew. ■ 
 
 The news of the loss of a Venetian vessel in the English 
 Channel leads us to anticipate Antonio's losses and the conse- 
 quent forfeiture of his bond, while the description of his tender 
 parting with Bassanio awakens our sympathy for the kind- 
 hearted man over whose head the storm of Shylock's vengeance 
 is about to break, 
 
Scene VIII.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 123 
 
 4.^ the villain Jew. So far, at least, Shylock has not done 
 anything villainous. The epithet shows the way in which the 
 Jew as a Jew was regarded by the Venetian gentlemen. 
 
 12. passion, passionate outburst. 
 
 16. my Christian ducats; a strange phrase for Shylock to use 
 of his dearly loved money. Probably he is lamenting the fact 
 that his ducats have passed into the hands of a Christian. Shy- 
 lock's words were, no doubt, suggested by a passage in the Jew 
 of Malta (Act II, scene i), where Barrabas, on recovering, by 
 the aid of his daughter, some money which he had lost, exclaims: 
 
 " O my girl. 
 My gold, my fortune, my felicity 
 
 O girl! O gold! O beauty! O my bliss!" 
 
 rg. double ducats; presumably coins worth two ducats, as 
 the double eagle is worth two eagles. 
 
 29. miscarried, a word of four syllables. 
 
 33. You were, pronounced like one word. You, the apparent 
 subject, is really a dative; the subject is 'it,' understood. 
 
 39. slubber; slur over, spoil by hurrying. 
 
 42. mind of love; your mind, which should be entirely devoted 
 to love. 
 
 44-45. " such fair manifestations of love as shall be proper 
 for you as a suitor." 
 
 52. his embraced heaviness; the melancholy which he seems to 
 cultivate. Embraced is a word of three syllables. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What is shown by the fact that the Duke of Venice came in 
 person to search Bassanio's ship with Shylock? 
 
 Why did Shakespeare not bring Shylock himself upon the 
 stage to utter his outburst of passion? 
 
 Why is the account of Antonio's parting with Bassanio in- 
 troduced in this scene? 
 
 What does this report show as to Antonio's affection for 
 gassanio? 
 
124 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [ActII. 
 
 Scene IX. 
 
 This scene exhibits a second choice of the caskets and a 
 second failure. But it is by no means a mere repetition of the 
 seventh scene of this act. Morocco chose thoughtlessly with-- 
 out regard for anything but outward appearances; Arragon, 
 on the other hand, deliberately argues himself into a wrong 
 choice. Yet here, as in the seventh scene, the choice is wholly 
 determined by the character of the chooser ; and once more the 
 wisdom of Portia's father is justified by the result. 
 
 In the dramatic construction of the play this scene serves 
 two purposes. First, it adds a pleasing symmetry to the 
 Casket Story. Every one feels that the story is more complete 
 and harmonious when of the three caskets the two wrong 
 ones are first chosen and the right choice is made last. If this 
 scene were omitted and Bassanio made his choice immediately 
 after Morocco, we should be left wondering what was in the 
 silver casket. 
 
 Again, this scene adds to the impression that a considerable 
 period of time is passing between the day on which Antonio 
 borrows the money of Shylock and that on which Bassanio 
 wins the hand of Portia. 
 
 I. draw the curtain; draw open the curtain behind which the 
 caskets are hidden. 
 
 9-16. The most important of these three conditions has 
 already been made known to us (II. i. 40-42). It is quite 
 in keeping with the solemn formality of Arragon's character 
 that before making his choice he should rehearse the condi- 
 tions under which it is made. 
 
 13. marriage, a word of three syllables. 
 
 19. addressed me; prepared myself. 
 Fortune, good luck. 
 
 22. Note the scornful fashion in which Arragon passes over the 
 leaden casket. 
 
 26. hy the fool multitude; for the foolish common herd of 
 men. 
 
 33, How is this line to be scanned ^ 
 
Scene IX.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 125 
 
 29. in the weather; in the open air, exposed to the weather. 
 
 30. in the force and road of casualty; exposed to the shock, in 
 the very way of accidents. 
 
 44. cover; wear hats Hke great men, instead of standing 
 bare-headed as they now do in the presence of their masters. 
 
 46-49. "How much meanneSvS — peasantry has something of 
 the original meaning of ' villainy,' a quality suitable only to low- 
 born men — would be separated from that which is truly honor- 
 able, and how much good, now lost in the chaff and the rubbish 
 heap of the times, would be picked up to be burnished anew." 
 The metaphor is hopelessly mixed, but none the less striking. 
 
 51. assume desert; take it for granted that I deserve Portia. 
 Note the Alexandrine, broken by a pause as Arragon turns to 
 ask for the key. 
 
 53. This ' aside ' is spoken while Arragon stands in dumb 
 amazement contemplating the contents of the casket. 
 
 58. Arragon repeats the inscription on the casket to justify 
 the choice which has proved so unfortunate. He will not 
 admit that he does not deserve Portia. 
 
 61-62. There has been a good deal of dispute over the exact 
 meaning of these lines. I take them as equivalent to a formal 
 refusal on Portia's part to discuss the question of Arragon's 
 deserts. " I seem to have offended you," she says, " and so I 
 cannot act as judge in this case." Others think the words 
 refer to Arragon: " You have offended, by making the wrong 
 choice, and so cannot be a good judge as to whether you have 
 received your deserts or not." But this implied rebuke seems 
 hardly courteous enough for Portia. 
 
 63. The metre of this scroll corresponds to that of the scroll 
 in the golden casket. In this line fire and tried are pronounced 
 like words of two syllables. 
 
 68. / wis; a corruption of an old adverb, ' ywis,' meaning 
 'certainly.' But Shakespeare probably thought of it as the 
 present tense of the verb ' to wit,' ' to know.' 
 
 73. Arragon seems to have caught the infection of the jingling 
 scroll ^nd bid§ farewell to Portia in a siniila,r metre, 
 
126 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act iii. 
 
 80. deliberate fools; a perfect characterization of Arragon, 
 which shows Portia's quick insight into the characters of men. 
 
 84. draw the curtain; draw the curtain to hide the caskets. 
 The Hne lacks a syllable. 
 
 85. my lord. This is said laughingly. Portia is so delighted 
 to be free of Arragon that she cracks a mild joke with the 
 servant. 
 
 90. courteous breath; polite speeches. 
 
 98. high-day wit; high-flown rhetoric, suitable rather to an 
 oration on a holiday than to a plain message. 
 
 100. Nerissa's speech may be taken as expressing the un- 
 spoken wish of Portia herself. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What additional information do we get from this scene as 
 to the conditions under which the choice of the caskets was 
 made ? 
 
 Why did Arragon choose the silver casket? 
 
 How does he take his misfortune? 
 
 Why would he have been an unsuitable husband for Portia ? 
 
 What two dramatic purposes are served by this scene ? 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 The light comedy of Act II passes in this act into serious 
 drama, in one scene closely approaching the tragic. The 
 Bond and Casket stories in alternate scenes occupy the whole 
 act and are more closely interwoven than before by Portia's 
 resolve to undertake the deliverance of Antonio. 
 
 The first scene, written in prose, probably for the sake of 
 the realistic impression to be conveyed, is one of the most im- 
 portant of the drama. Not only does it announce Antonio's 
 bankruptcy and Shylock's determination to exact the pound 
 of flesh, but it reveals to the full the fierce and revengeful, yet 
 by no -means unnatural, character of the Jew. The rapid 
 alternations of feeling and the mixture of motives which he 
 
Scene I.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 127 
 
 displays in this scene add immensely to our conception of him 
 not as a mere stage villain, but as a living, breathing man. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 2. lives unchecked; remains uncontradicted. 
 
 4. the narrow seas; the English Channel. 
 
 the Goodwins; the Goodwin sands, near the mouth of the 
 Thames. Salarino's doubt as to the name of a spot known to 
 every Londoner helps to bring out the fact that the action is 
 taking place in Venice. 
 
 7. my gossip Report. Report, that is ' Rumor,' is here personi- 
 fied as a gossip, that is a chattering old woman. 
 
 12. without any slips of prolixity; without indulging in a long- 
 winded narration. 
 
 46. a had match; bad bargain. 
 
 47. a prodigal. Antonio's previous liberality to his friends 
 seems to Shylock a wanton wasting of his fortune. 
 
 51-52. for a Christian courtesy; out of pure Christian charity, 
 without interest; cf. I. i. 44-45. 
 
 let him look to his bond. This is the first intimation 
 on Shylock's part that his "merry jest" is to be turned to 
 deadly earnest. Notice how the grim determination of his 
 character is brought out by the repetition of this phrase. 
 
 60-61. / am a Jew. As a matter of fact the main reason for 
 Antonio's ill-treatment of Shylock was his hatred of him as a 
 usurer, rather than as a Jew. But the two were practically 
 identical at that time, and Shylock readily transfers the hatred 
 which Antonio feels for his calling to the account of racial 
 prejudice. This whole speech of Shylock's deserves the most 
 careful study. It is hardly, perhaps, " the most eloquent plea 
 that the human voice has ever dared to utter for a despised 
 race," as an enthusiastic Frenchman has called it; but it is a 
 superb piece of self-justification. Shylock takes his stand on 
 the old Hebrew principle of retaliation; he will do as he has 
 been done by. And against the Christians who first wronged 
 Jlini and th^n talked to him of mercy and forgiveness his plea is 
 
128 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act ill. 
 
 unanswerable. Salanio and Salarino are fairly driven from 
 their guns and abandon the field to Shylock and his tribesman, 
 Tubal. 
 
 77-78. This message confirms Shylock's statement (11. 47-48) 
 that Antonio since his losses hardly dares to show his head in 
 public. 
 
 83. Genoa, the great commercial rival of Venice in the carry- 
 ing trade of the East Jessica seems to have fled there direct 
 from Venice; and Tubal, who appears to be a sort of hanger-on 
 of Shylock's, must have been commissioned to get news of her. 
 
 88. Frankfort; a German city famous among other things for 
 its extended trade and for its large Jewish quarter. 
 
 92-94. The apologists for Shylock's character take great 
 pains to explain away these lines. There can be no doubt that 
 Shakespeare meant them to show how little Shylock really cared 
 for his daughter. It is not so much the loss of her as the fact 
 of her flight with a Christian and. above all, the theft of the 
 ducats and the precious, precious jewels that stirs her father's 
 wrath'. 
 
 107. / thank God. This second loss of Antonio's completes 
 his ruin and delivers him into Shylock's hands. 
 
 112. here? in Genoa? See Textual Notes, p.. 175. Shylock 
 is asking Tubal where he spoke with the sailors; was it here in 
 Venice, or in Genoa, where he first heard the news? 
 
 113. Tubal does not answer the question, but gives Shylock 
 a piece of bad news to balance the good. Throughout the 
 scene Tubal seems to take a malicious pleasure in playing upon 
 Shylock's feelings. The alternations of wrath and exultation in 
 Shylock are, of course, immensely effective upon the stage. 
 
 126. turquoise. This stone was thought in Shakespeare's 
 day to have several magical qualities. Among others it paled 
 and lost color if the affection of the giver waned. It was there- 
 fore a very suitable gift for Leah, Shylock's dead wife, to give 
 him in the days of their courtship. The fact that Jessica could 
 barter this ring for a pet monkey shows how completely sh^ 
 had broken with her home, 
 
Scene n.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 129 
 
 131. an officer; a bailiff to arrest Antonio for debt. 
 
 a fortnight before. This phrase shows that a period of 
 something over two weeks has yet to elapse before the bond 
 falls due. 
 
 133-134' The defenders of Shylock who justify his hatred of 
 Antonio by representing him as the avenger of his persecuted 
 race must have overlooked this frank statement of one motive 
 at least, if not the chief motive, for his determination to exact 
 the penalty. 
 
 135. synagogue. It was quite customary at this time to 
 transact business in the church of St. Paul's at London. Shake- 
 speare may be transferring this English custom to Venice, or he 
 may mean Shylock to visit the synagogue in order to register 
 the vow of vengeance to which he afterwards refers in IV. i. 
 228. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What news of Antonio's losses do we get in this scene? 
 
 What dramatic purpose is effected by making Salarino and 
 Salanio jeer Shylock about his daughter's flight? 
 
 What reason does Shylock give Salarino and Salanio for his 
 determination to exact the penalty from Antonio ? 
 
 What reason does he give Tubal? 
 
 Does one of these reasons exclude the other? 
 
 What effect does the news of Jessica's prodigality have on 
 Shylock ? 
 
 What humanizing touch is added to Shylock' s character by 
 his mention of Leah's ring? 
 
 What indication of the time of this scene occurs in Shylock' s 
 last speech? 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 This scene, occurring as it does in the exact centre of the play, 
 is dramatically its most important scene. The Casket Story is 
 brought to a happy conclusion by Bassanio's successful choice. 
 Portia's resolve to rescue Antonio at any cost from Shylock 
 involves her in the Bond Story, and so combines m.ore closely 
 
130 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act HI. 
 
 than before the two main plots. The appearance of Lorenzo 
 and Jessica at Belmont brings the chief figures of the under-plot 
 into connection with the actors in the Casket Story. Lastly, 
 Portia's gift of her ring to Bassanio prepares the way for the 
 Ring Episode of the last act. In short, all the threads of the 
 drama are in this scene caught up and woven together about 
 the central and dominating figure of Portia. Her character, 
 hitherto revealed mainly in its lighter and more humorous 
 aspects, rises to the perfection of womanly sweetness and dig- 
 nity in her confession of love, her self-surrender, and her instant 
 sympathy with Bassanio's trouble. His character also is admir- 
 ably developed by contrast with the preceding suitors, and 
 both as a lover and as a friend he appears to better advantage 
 than anywhere else in the play. Altogether the scene is one 
 which deserves and will repay special study and consideration. 
 
 2. -in choosing wrong; if you make the wrong choice. 
 
 3. An Alexandrine, of which there are several in this scene. 
 
 7. lest you should not understand me well. Portia would like 
 to detain Bassanio in Belmont a month or two — note how the 
 time has expanded from the " day or two" of 1. i — that he may 
 come to understand her well, that is, know her and so love her 
 better. Yet, being a maiden, she has no tongue to utter her love, 
 but can only feel it. The whole speech is a charming medley of 
 contradictions through which Portia's true love for Bassanio 
 shines clearer and clearer until it comes to full expression in the 
 words, " and so, all yours." She is, naturally enough, torn 
 between her love for Bassanio and her fear of losing him at 
 once, according to the conditions, in case he makes the wrong 
 choice. 
 
 14. beshrew your eyes. This, of course, is said playfully. 
 
 16. the other half yours. This slip of the tongue betrays Portia's 
 real feeling and encourages her to full confession in the following 
 lines. 
 
 18. yours; pronounced like a word of two syllables, as in the 
 first case of its use in 1. 20. 
 
 19. puts; an old plural form of the verb. 
 
Scene It] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 131 
 
 20-21. " If it turn out that you are divided from me by the 
 ill-fortune of the lottery, let fortune be condemned for it; but 
 let not me be condemned for perjury in breaking my oath and 
 teaching you to choose aright." 
 
 24. to stay you from election; to keep you from choosing. 
 
 24-25. Bassanio's impatience to know his, fate is as charac- 
 teristic of the male lover as the sweet reluctance of Portia is of 
 the woman. 
 
 26. the rack. Torture, although not countenanced by the 
 laws of England, was, nevertheless, occasionally employed in 
 Shakespeare's day to wring a confession from men accused of 
 treason. 
 
 29. fear the enjoying; fear that I shall not enjoy. 
 
 41. Portia knows that love will teach Bassanio the secret of 
 the caskets, and yet she cannot help fearing that he may fail. 
 
 44. swan-like end; the words refer to the old belief that the 
 swan sang for the only time in its life, just before it died. 
 
 49. the flourish. A flourish, or blast, of trumpets marks the 
 moment in the ceremony of an English coronation when the sov- 
 ereign puts on the crown. 
 
 51. dulcet sounds in break of day; an allusion to the pretty 
 old custom of waking a bridegroom on his wedding morn by 
 music beneath his window. 
 
 55. Alcides, Hercules. According to a story told by Shake- 
 speare's favorite Latin poet, Ovid, Hercules once came to Troy 
 and found Hesione, the virgin daughter of the Trojan king, 
 exposed to be devoured by a sea-monster. He promised to 
 rescue her if the king would give him some famous horses which 
 he had in his stable. Portia compares Bassanio's presence, that 
 is his whole manner and appearance, to that of Hercules, but 
 Bassanio has much -ynore love, since it was a wish to possess the 
 horses, not love for Hesione, that impelled the Grecian hero to 
 rescue the maiden. 
 
 57. I stand for sacrifice; I represent the sacrifice, i. e., Hesione. 
 
 58. the Dardanian wives; the Trojan women. 
 
 59. bleared visages; tear-stained faces. 
 
132 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act HI. 
 
 63. This song has been pronounced a plain hint to Bassanio 
 which casket to choose; but only those who are wise after the 
 event can see in it the slightest infraction of Portia's oath not 
 to disclose the secret. At most the song starts in Bassanio's 
 mind a train of thought which eventually issues in the right 
 choice. Had it been sung to Morocco or Arragon, it would in 
 no way have altered their decisions. 
 
 fancy; not so much love, though it is sometimes used 
 by Shakespeare in this sense, as a passing fancy, which, as the 
 song says, comes neither from the heart nor from the head, but 
 from a mere sight of the object that inspires it, and which 
 passes away when the eyes lose sight of the object. 
 
 73. This speech of Bassanio's should be carefully studied. 
 It not only solves the riddle of the caskets, but discloses his 
 own genuine and thoughtful character. It was for such a man, 
 who could tell the false from the true and discover the treasure 
 hidden beneath a repulsive exterior, that Portia's wise father 
 intended his daughter. The whole speech is what might be 
 called a variation on the simple theme, — appearances are de- 
 ceitful. 
 
 84. stairs of sand; which fall away and betray the feet that 
 trust to them. 
 
 85. the beards of Hercules. Beards in Shakespeare's day were 
 particularly affected by soldiers. In As You Like It, he speaks 
 of the soldier as being " bearded like the pard." 
 
 86. livers white as milk. See note on I. i. 81. 
 
 91. lightest; for the play on words sqc note on II. vi. 42. 
 
 92. crisped snaky golden locks. Queen Elizabeth's auburn 
 hair set the fashion in Shakespeare's time. Ladies whose dark 
 locks put them out of the fashion often covered their heads with a 
 blonde wig made of the hair of some dead woman. Shake- 
 speare's native honesty was greatly offended by this practice 
 and he took more than one opportunity to inveigh against it. 
 In one of his sonnets he speaks of the good old times — 
 
 Before the golden tresses of the dead. 
 The right of sepulchres, were shorn away; 
 
Scene IL] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 133 
 
 To live a second life on second head; 
 Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay. 
 93. makes. The relative in Shakespeare frequently takes a 
 singular verb, even when its antecedent is plural; makes, how- 
 ever, may be considered as an old plural form. 
 
 99. The dark complexion of an Indian was the very opposite 
 of the blonde beauty in favor in Shakespeare's England. See 
 the discussion of this passage in the Textual Notes, p. 178. 
 
 beauty; here used as synonymous with ornament in 1. 74 
 and equivalent to the outward shows of 1. 73. 
 
 102. Midas. According to Grecian legend King Midas was 
 very greedy of gain. A god gave him the gift of turning what- 
 ever he touched into gold. To his horror he found that even 
 his food became gold as it touched his lips. 
 
 103. pale and common drudge; silver, so called because of its 
 use in the common coins that pass from hand to hand. 
 
 106. plainness; blunt frankness, referring to the inscription 
 on the leaden casket (see Textual Notes, p. 182). The very 
 inscription which had repelled the thoughtless Morocco and the 
 self-conceited Arragon attracts Bassanio. 
 
 108. Note how Portia in her joy at Bassanio's choice breaks 
 out into rhyme. 
 
 112. in measure rain; rain down joy moderately, not in an 
 overwhelming torrent. See Textual Notes, p. 183. 
 scant this excess; limit this excess of joy. 
 
 114. A syllable is wanting to make this line complete. But 
 as therg is a pause between its two halves corresponding to the 
 change of speakers, the defect is not noticed on the stage. And 
 it must be remembered that Shakespeare's verse was meant to be 
 heard, not read. 
 
 117. Or whether; or. 
 
 127. this shadow; the portrait, which, though it surpasses all 
 Bassanio's praise, yet is but a faint shadow of Portia's beauty, 
 
 132. chance as fair; may you always have such good fortune. 
 Chance is a verb. 
 
134 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act ill. 
 
 140. by note; according to the direction of the scroll. Bas- 
 sanio, like Portia, utters his joy in rhyme. 
 
 149. This beautiful speech of Portia's is cast in blank verse as 
 being too weighty and serious for the rhyme in which she ex- 
 pressed her first outburst of joy. 
 
 154. An Alexandrine. See Textual Notes, p. 184. 
 
 155. *'w your account; in your estimation. 
 
 158. sum of — something. See Textual Notes, p. 184. Portia 
 hesitates for a word with which to describe herself as she really 
 is , and does not find it ; " all I am , ' ' she says , " is something which 
 you may sum up {term in gross) by calling an unlessoned girl." 
 Portia's modesty in thus undervaluing herself before her lover 
 is one of her most winning traits. 
 
 161. A syllable is wanting in this line. Dr. Furness sug- 
 gests that the word 'in' which appears in some old editions 
 before this was dropped out by the printers. The pause in 
 the middle of the verse, however, makes up for the missing 
 syllable. 
 
 163. Happiest of all is; the happiest thing of all is. See 
 Textual Notes, p. 184. 
 
 191. none from me; nothing away from me, nothing that I 
 shall lose by. 
 
 220. Salerio. A number of modern editors consider this a 
 misprint for Salanio, arguing that Shakespeare would not 
 introduce a new and unimportant character so late in the play. 
 But Shakespeare does exactly this more than once in his dramas. 
 There seems no reason for changing the old reading. See 
 Textual Notes, p. 186. 
 
 222. the youth of my new interest here; my newly acquired 
 position as Portia's prospective husband. 
 
 230. Salerio probably pressed Lorenzo and Jessica to come 
 with him to Belmont that they might bear further testimony 
 to the relentless determination of Shylock to exact the penalty. 
 
 236. nor well, unless in mind. Antonio's condition {estate) 
 is such that he cannot be quite well, unless his mind, that is, his 
 patience and fortitude of mind, supports him. 
 
Scene II.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 135 
 
 238. yon stranger; Jessica. By this little stage-device Jessica 
 is taken away from the centre of the stage and thus the necessity 
 of introducing her and of telling her story to Portia is obviated. 
 This clears the way for the far more important business of 
 Antonio's letter. 
 
 240. royal merchant; a fit epithet for one of the merchant 
 princes of Venice. Some of them actually ruled as sovereign 
 princes in islands of the Greek Archipelago. One of the leading 
 business men of London in Shakespeare's day, Sir Thomas 
 Gresham, was often called " the royal merchant." 
 
 242. the Jasons. Note how Gratiano uses the same simile 
 as Bassanio in I. i. 172. 
 
 247-8. turn so much the constitution of any constant man; affect 
 so strongly any well-balanced man. 
 
 250. The last foot of this line has two extra syllables, which 
 are only lightly pronounced in reading. 
 
 279. impeach the freedom, of the state; call in question, or deny 
 the freedom of Venice. One of the special characteristics of 
 the republic of Venice was the freedom it granted to aliens to 
 pursue their business in the city and to press their suits in its 
 courts. Shylock insists that unless he obtains his bond, this 
 freedom is a mere pretense. 
 
 294. unwearied; a superlative; ' most,' is understood from 
 the word best preceding conditioned. 
 
 300. deface the bond; cancel the bond. 
 
 303. A syllable is wanting in this line. Some early texts have 
 the word ' my ' before Bassanio' s; but through was probably 
 pronounced ' thorough,' as it is sometimes spelled in Shakespeare. 
 
 313. a merry cheer; a pleasant face. 
 
 314. since you are dear-bought. Portia tries to lighten the 
 gravity of the situation by pretending that the money she must 
 pay to free Antonio is really the price she pays for a husband, 
 and since he is dear-bought she will love him dearly. Notice 
 how the jest fades away when she hears the pathetic letter of 
 Antonio. 
 
 325-8. The artificial character of this speech — notice the 
 
136 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act III. 
 
 alternation of the rhj^-mes — is one of the few signs of early work- 
 manship that remain in this play. Shakespeare was rather 
 addicted to these rhyming quatrains in his early work, but 
 gradually ceased to use them. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 Why does Portia wish Bassanio to delay a while before trying 
 his fortune with the caskets? 
 
 What phrases in her first speech show her affection for him ? 
 
 How does she try to conceal it? 
 
 Did Portia tell the other suitors that she knew the secret of 
 the caskets ? 
 
 What is shown by her mention of this fact to Bassanio ? 
 
 Why does Bassanio insist on choosing at once? 
 
 What is the underlying meaning of the song? 
 
 Does it tell Bassanio which casket to choose? 
 
 What is the leading thought of Bassanio's speech, 11. 73-107? 
 
 Why does he choose the leaden casket? 
 
 What qualities of head and heart are revealed in Portia's 
 speech, 11. 149-174? 
 
 What feeling is shown in Bassanio's reply to this speech? 
 
 What new elements appear in the scene at 1. 221 ? 
 
 What trait of character appears in Portia's speech 11. 244-251 ? 
 
 What creditable incident of Bassanio's courtship is revealed 
 in his speech, 11. 251-272? 
 
 What does Jessica say as to Shylock's feeling towai:;^! Antonio? 
 
 What does this show as to the time of Shylock's determination 
 to exact the penalty, if possible? 
 
 What traits of Portia's character are revealed in her speech, 
 11. 299-315? 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 This scene takes place on the day before that appointed for 
 the trial (1. 34), while Bassanio is hurrying back to Venice. 
 Antonio has been arrested and thrown into prison for failing 
 to pay his bond. He has induced the jailer to accompany him 
 
Scene III.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 137 
 
 on a visit to Shylock in the faint hope of persuading the Jew- 
 to waive the exaction of the penalty. 
 
 The scene shows Antonio at the lowest depth of humiliation; 
 the royal merchant is forced humbly to supplicate the Jew 
 whom he had spurned and spat upon. Antonio's character, 
 however, appears but little changed by his misfortune ; his old in- 
 difference to life is clearly seen in his last speech, and nowhere 
 does he break out in lamentations over his fate or in curses 
 on his enemy. Shylock, on the other hand, indulges in an 
 outburst of unrestrained malice which contrasts sharply with 
 his fawning manner toward Antonio at their first meeting. 
 Nowhere, not even in the trial scene, does he appear so black 
 a villain as here. We naturally take the side of his victim, 
 while at the same time the firm conviction expressed by An- 
 tonio that the law will not intervene heightens our curiosity 
 as to the means by which the merchant is to be rescued, and so 
 increases the dramatic effect. 
 
 10. to come abroad with him; to bring him out of the prison. 
 
 14. a soft and dull-eyed fool. Pity, as well as generosity, 
 seems pure folly to Shylock. Dull-eyed means ' pitiful,' 
 ' sad-looking.' 
 
 19. kept, lived. The phrase " where do you keep? " meaning 
 " where do you live?" is said to be still in use in the University 
 of Cambridge. 
 
 21. his reason well I know. As a matter of fact, Antonio 
 knows only one of the reasons that are impelling Shylock to 
 revenge. He was incapable of appreciating the intensity of 
 Shylock's racial feeling, and, of course, felt himself quite inno- 
 cent of complicity in Jessica's elopement. 
 
 26-31. The grammatical construction of these lines is awk- 
 ward, but the sense is fairly plain. They may be paraphrased 
 as follows: " The Duke cannot interfere to prevent the operation 
 of the law (which Shylock was invoking against Antonio), for 
 if the privileges {commodity) which strangers (Shylock not 
 being a Venetian citizen is here spoken of as an alien) enjoy in 
 Venice are denied to them, the refusal will be a scandal on 
 
138 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [ActIII. 
 
 Venetian justice; and there is an additional reason for the 
 Duke's non-interference in the fact that the commerce of Venice 
 is largely dependent on the strangers within her gates." For a 
 further discussion of this passage see Textual Notes, p. 187. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 Why does Shylock call Antonio a fool? 
 
 What act would make Shylock appear a fool in his own 
 eyes? 
 
 What do these facts show as to Shylock's character? 
 
 In what does the humiliation of Antonio's position consist? 
 
 What reason does Antonio assign for Shylock's hatred? 
 
 What other reason is shown in Shylock's second speech? 
 
 Why does Antonio think that the Duke will not interfere? 
 
 What indication of the time of this scene is given in the last 
 speech of Antonio ? 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 This scene takes place at Belmont immediately after Bas- 
 sanio's departure for Venice. It shows us Portia's strong feel- 
 ing of affection for her husband's friend and benefactor, and 
 gives us an inkling of the plan she has formed to rescue him. 
 
 3. god-like amity. Such friendship as that between Antonio 
 and Bassanio has something divine in its nature. Lorenzo 
 sees that Portia realizes this, and compliments her on her true 
 and lofty conception of friendship. 
 
 8-9. " You would be prouder of sending your husband hence 
 on his wedding-day to rescue his friend than any common act 
 of benevolence could make you." 
 
 1 5. lineaments ; a word used by Elizabethan writers to denote 
 bodily traits in general, not merely the features as to-day, 
 
 19. the cost. Portia speaks as if the money she had given 
 Bassanio to buy off Shylock were going to accomplish its pur- 
 pose. As we see a few lines later on, she knows that this will 
 not suffice and that she must employ other means to rescue An- 
 tonio. But she does not care to make a confidant of the light- 
 hearted Lorenzo. 
 
Scene IV.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 139 
 
 20. the semblance of my soul; the image of my husband, who 
 is as dear to mie as my own soul. Portia refers to the idea before 
 mentioned that there must be a certain Hkeness between two 
 such friends as Bassanio and Antonio. 
 
 22. This; such talk as this about the money which she has 
 given to free Antonio. 
 
 23. hear other things; let us change the subject. See Textual 
 Notes, p. 188. 
 
 31. a monastery. There was really a monastery, or rather a 
 convent, three miles or so away from the place where Belmont is 
 supposed to have stood. 
 
 49. Padua; an Italian city not far from Venice, famous for 
 its law-school. See Textual Notes, p. i88. 
 
 51. notes and garments . The notes would be the legal opinion 
 of Dr. Bellario, whom we must suppose to be a famous jurist at 
 Padua, on the case of Shylock vs. Antonio. The garments are 
 the robes of a doctor of laws in which Portia intends to disguise 
 herself before appearing in the Venetian court. 
 
 52. with imagined speed; with all the speed imaginable. 
 
 53. the traject. The ferries in and about Venice are called 
 traghetti, of which this word, is probably an English rendering. 
 The use of this word is one of the many little signs in the play that 
 Shakespeare, if he had not visited Venice, knew much more about 
 it than he could learn from books. See Textual Notes, p. i88. 
 
 61-62. think we are accomplished with that we lack; think we 
 are really men; literally, that we have all the male character- 
 istics which we do not possess. 
 
 65. a braver grace; a more dashing air. 
 
 67. a reed voice; a piping voice, such as is heard in the boy 
 who is just becoming a man. 
 
 69. quaint lies; ingenious, elaborate stories. 
 
 72. could not do withal; could not help it. 
 
 77. bragging Jacks; Portia's term of contempt for the raw 
 boys she is speaking of. ' It is rather curious that she speaks in 
 this passage as if she meant to assume the disguise of a page; 
 probably it is only the working of her Uvel7 fancy which lead§ 
 
I40 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act hi. 
 
 her to express what she would do in case she ever put on such a 
 dress. As a matter of fact her demeanor in the doctor's robes 
 is as dignified as possible. 
 
 84. twenty miles. It is exactly twenty miles from Venice to 
 Dolo, a town on the mainland near which Belmont is supposed 
 to have been situated. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 ' What reason does Portia give for her eagerness to rescue 
 Antonio ? 
 
 Why does she conceal her real design from Lorenzo? 
 
 How much of her design can be gathered from her speech to 
 Balthasar ? 
 
 What trait of "Portia's character appears in her speech to 
 Nerissa, 11. 60-78? 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 This scene is laid at Belmont immediately after Portia's 
 departure and serves to fill up the time necessary for her journey 
 to Venice. Launcelot's jests with Jessica as to the faint chance 
 of her final salvation and his persistent punning with Lorenzo 
 probably seemed funnier to an Elizabethan audience than they 
 do to-day. The one thing of importance in the scene is Jessica's 
 tribute to Portia. A woman who can make so deep an impres- 
 sion on such a light and volatile mind as that of the pretty 
 Jewess is indeed fitted to render happy a husband so capable 
 of appreciating her worth as Bassanio. 
 
 3. / fear you; 1 fear for you. 
 
 5. agitation; one of Launcelot's usual mistakes. He proba- 
 bly means 'cogitation,' i.e., the result of his consideration of 
 the matter. 
 
 20. gone both ways; lost, whether you are the Jew's daughter 
 or not. 
 
 54. stomachs; a pun. Stomach in Shakespeare's time had 
 the second meaning of 'appetite.' 
 
 57. cover; another pun. Cover meant both ' lay the table ' 
 
Scene v.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 141 
 
 and 'put on a hat.' Launcelot declares that he is too good a 
 servant to put on his hat in his master's presence. 
 
 60. quarrelling with occasion; quibbHng on every opportunity. 
 
 70. O dear discretion. Lorenzo pities discretion, i.e., plain 
 common sense, for the way in which it is abused by Launcelot's 
 wild talk. 
 
 How his words are suited; how ill his words are adapted 
 to the matter in hand. They are good words in themselves; 
 but he uses them at the wrong time and in the wrong place. 
 
 74. garnished; supplied with words. 
 
 75. Defy the matter; disregard the subject for the sake of a 
 tricksy word, i.e. a pun or jest. 
 
 82. mean it. Mean in this passage has the sense of ' aim at,' 
 and it refers to heaven in the preceding line. The meaning of the 
 passage is that unless Bassanio, who through his marriage with 
 Portia has a foretaste in this world of the joys of heaven, is 
 roused by them to an earnest effort to enter heaven, the doors 
 of paradise would justly be closed against him. For a further dis- 
 cussion of this much-disputed passage see Textual Notes, p. 189, 
 
 92. stomach; in the sense above noted of ' appetite.' " Let 
 me praise you while I feel like doing it." 
 
 95. digest; used here with the meaning of 'swallow down,' 
 'm.ake the best of.' 
 
 96. set you forth; describe you in full. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What is the. dramatic purpose of this scene? 
 What light is thrown upon Jessica's character by her jesting 
 with Launcelot? 
 What opinion has Jessica formed of Portia? 
 What does the fact that she has formed such an opinion show 
 as to Jessica's own character? 
 
142 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act iv. 
 
 ACT IV, 
 Scene I. 
 
 This scene constitutes what is technically called the denoue- 
 ment of the drama. In other words this scene closes the action 
 of the drama by solving the problem which the earlier portion 
 of the play has raised — namely, how Antonio is to be delivered 
 from the clutches of Shylock. 
 
 This solution belongs, of course, to the Bond Story of which 
 it is the fitting close; but it is brought about by Portia, the 
 heroine of the Casket Story, and thus the two main threads of 
 the drama are finally and indissolubly interwoven. 
 
 The scene itself is, perhaps, the most familiar in all Shake- 
 speare; its poetic beauty, its vivid characterization, and its 
 dramatic effectiveness are so evident that it seems needless to 
 dwell upon them. But it may be well to point out very briefly 
 with what deliberate art Shakespeare proceeds in the con- 
 struction of this scene. At its very opening Shylock's scornful 
 rejection of the Duke's appeal to his humanity, and of Bassanio's 
 appeal to his love of money, shows plainly the deadly danger 
 which threatens Antonio. Portia's statement that the bond 
 is legal and that the state will not interfere to prevent Shylock 
 from exacting the penalty still further darkens the prospect of 
 Antonio's escape. In the meantime Shylock's remorseless 
 cruelty and his persistent attempt to make the law the instru- 
 ment of his revenge have wholly alienated our sympathies from 
 him. Thus when the law which he has invoked is turned 
 against him, we feel not only that he is rightly served, but that 
 he is caught in his own snare. 
 
 It should be noted, however, that the law which Portia cites 
 against Shylock does not positively prevent him from exacting 
 the penalty. Had he been willing to secure his revenge at the 
 cost of his own life," he might still have done so. But Shylock 
 is incapable of such heroic action. In a sense, therefore," the 
 final safety of Antonio is dn^ ^^ much to the weakness of Shy* 
 
Scene I.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 143 
 
 lock as to the wisdom of Portia, and this is as it should be, for 
 thus the events of the drama spring naturally from the char- 
 acters of the personages. 
 
 By the defeat of Shylock's plot a happy ending is secured 
 for the drama. In order to strengthen this effect and close the 
 play, not with the serious and almost tragic note of the court 
 scene, but with the playful quarrels and merry jests of young 
 lovers, the Ring Episode is introduced immediately after sen- 
 tence has been passed upon Shylock, to connect this scene with 
 the last act of the play. 
 
 The Duke; the Doge of Venice. It was not part of his duty 
 to preside at such a trial as this; Shakespeare introduces him 
 for scenic effect. 
 
 I. What; not an exclamation of surprise at seeing Antonio, 
 but rather equivalent to our modem ' well,' used to begin a 
 speech or clause. 
 
 10. envy's. Envy here has the meaning of * hatred ' or 
 'malice.' 
 
 16. make room. Evidently the court was crowded. We 
 know from III. ii. 280-282. that Shylock's suit against 
 Antonio had excited the greatest interest in Venice. Every 
 effort had been made to settle it out of court, and when all 
 these efforts failed, the populace thronged the court to see 
 what would be the upshot of the case. 
 
 18. lead'st this fashion; keepest up this appearance. 
 
 19. the last hour of act; the very hour when, if ever, your 
 malice must be put into action. 
 
 20. strange. Here and in the next line this word means 
 ' extraordinary,' ' remarkable,' 
 
 22. where, whereas. 
 
 exacts. In Elizabethan English verbs ending in ' t ' often 
 formed the second person singular of the present indicative by 
 adding ' s' instead of ' est.' See Textual Notes, p. 190. 
 
 24. loose the forfeiture; remit the penalty. 
 
 25. moiety, a portion. It sometimes means a half, sometimes 
 a. third. 
 
144 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act rv. 
 
 32. Turks and Tartars; mentioned here as types of savage 
 and barbarous races. 
 
 34. gentle. It has been suggested that the Duke is here 
 playing on the similarity of sound between * gentle ' and 
 'Gentile' as Gratiano does in II. vi. 51. The meaning would 
 then be, " We all expect such an answer as a Gentile, that is, a 
 Christian, would make." But as the Duke is trying to soften 
 Shylock's heart, he would not be at all likely to run the risk of 
 offending him by such a punning reference to his religion. 
 Shakespeare was, no doubt, too fond of puns; but there is no 
 need of smelling out a pun where none exists. 
 
 35. possessed your Grace of what I purpose; informed your 
 Grace of my purpose. 
 
 37. the due and forfeit; the due forfeit. 
 
 39. your charter and your city's freedom; the charter which 
 ensures the freedom of your city. Shylock speaks as if the 
 rights and privileges of Venice depended, like those of most 
 English cities in Shakespeare's day, upon a charter granted by 
 the king, which could be revoked or annulled if the city abused 
 its privileges. As a matter of fact, Venice was a sovereign and 
 independent state. 
 
 47. gaping pig; either a squealing pig, or a roast pig's head 
 with a lemon in its open mouth. The latter seems the more 
 likely. 
 
 49. sings i' the nose; utters its shrill nasal note. 
 
 50. affection; sympathy. For a discussion of the text and 
 punctuation of this disputed passage see Textual Notes, p. 191. 
 
 51. passion; the inner, subjective feeling which is dominated 
 by affection, that is sympathy with outer, objective things. 
 
 it, passion. 
 
 52. it, affection. The sense of the whole passage is as follows: 
 " The feelings of men are often influenced by causes outside of 
 themselves in a way for which they can give no rational explana- 
 tion." 
 
 56. woollen; covered with a woollen cloth, 
 of force; by necessity. 
 
Scene I.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 145 
 
 58. For a discussion of the punctuation see Textual Notes, 
 p. 191. 
 
 60. lodged hate . . . certain loathing; rooted hate, fixed loathing. 
 
 62. a losing suit. Shylock calls his suit against Antonio " a 
 losing suit," because even if he won it and secured the forfeiture, 
 he would lose the money he had loaned Antonio. 
 
 68. offence. The word means here 'feeling of resentment,' 
 as in our modern phrase ' to take offence.' Shylock, how- 
 ever, understands it as meaning an actual wrong done, as in our 
 modern phrase ' an offence committed.' 
 
 73-74. See Textual Notes, p. 192. 
 
 82. with all brief and plain conveniency; with all suitable 
 directness and despatch. 
 
 87. draw, accept. 
 
 89. This speech is thoroughly characteristic of Shylock the 
 Jew. The object of the pious Hebrew under the old dispensa- 
 tion was to keep in every detail the law of Moses and so escape 
 the judgment of God upon sinners. Man's need of mercy and 
 God's readiness to forgive are essentially Christian, as man's 
 duty to live righteously and God's readiness to punish sinners 
 are Hebrew doctrines. 
 
 90. Shylock now turns upon the Duke and the Christians 
 who are urging him to spare Antonio for humanity's sake with 
 a countercharge of cruelty. Do they not abuse their slaves on 
 the plea that the slaves are their own property? Let them 
 clear their own skirts before they attack him. 
 
 104. " I have the power to adjourn this session of the court." 
 
 105. Bellario, a learned doctor. When Shakespeare wrote 
 this play there lived in Padua a scholar, Ottonello Disculzio, 
 who appears to have been the prototype of Bellario. He was 
 Professor of Law in the University of Padua, and so famous for 
 his knowledge and eloquence that he was constantly consulted 
 by the Venetian government. Shakespeare may very well have 
 heard of him from one of the English students at the University. 
 Portia would naturally consult her learned cousin in the 
 case of Shylock vs. Antonio. When she learned from him 
 
146 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act iv. 
 
 that the Duke of Venice had sent for him to decide the case, 
 the happy idea occurred to her of going in disguise as his sub- 
 stitute. 
 
 125. the hangman's axe. The word 'hangman' in Shakespeare's 
 time was generally used for ' executioner.' 
 
 128. For the substitution in this line of inexorable for the 
 generally received inexecrahle see Textual Notes, p. 192, 
 
 129. "Justice is to blame for allowing you to live." 
 
 131. Pythagoras; an old Grecian philosopher who taught 
 that after death the souls of some men pass into the bodies of 
 animals and vice versa. Shakespeare was familiar with this 
 doctrine and greatly inclined to laugh at it. For instance, in 
 As You Like It he makes Rosalind say in reference to the poetry 
 which she had found on a palm-tree, " I was never so be-rhymed 
 since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat." Compare 
 also the amusing dialogue between the Fool and Malvolio on 
 this topic in Twelfth Night (IV. ii. 54—65.) 
 
 134. a wolf who hanged. The construction here is rather 
 awkward. Who looks like the nominative of a verb, but it 
 must be taken with hanged as a nominative absolute. The 
 subject of did fleet in 1. 135 is not who but soul. It ap- 
 pears from an old diary of a traveller in England that it was 
 formerly customary to hang the bodies of dead wolves on 
 gallows, perhaps to frighten off the living. 
 
 135. fleet, flit. The word is repeatedly used by Shakespeare 
 to denote the passing of the soul from the body. 
 
 144. doctor; a doctor of laws. 
 
 162-163. "Do not allow his youth to prevent his receiving 
 the high estimation his learning deserves." 
 
 166. " And a trial of him will make his praise more widely 
 known." 
 
 170. take your place. Portia's proper place, representing 
 as she does the learned Bellario who has been asked to act 
 as judge, is on the judge's bench below the Duke's throne. 
 Throughout the scene, it must be remembered, she appears 
 
Scene I.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 147 
 
 not as an advocate for Antonio, but as a judge recognized by 
 both parties in the case. 
 
 1 71-172. the difference that holds this present question; the 
 controversy, or suit, that is now being tried. 
 
 180. stand within his danger; are at his mercy. 
 
 184. This is one of the most famiUar lines of Shakespeare; 
 but it is greatly to be doubted whether every one who glibly 
 quotes it understands its meaning. As Dr. Furness has pointed 
 out, the main stress is to be laid on quality, i.e. essential char- 
 acteristic. Strained means ' constrained.' We may para- 
 phrase the whole line as follows : ' ' The essential characteristic 
 of mercy is that it is voluntary and not enforced." This is in 
 answer to Shylock's angry question, " On what compulsion 
 must I?" 
 
 186. twice blest; doubly full of blessing. 
 
 191. the attribute to awe and majesty; the characteristic of awe- 
 inspiring majesty. 
 
 192. wherein doth sit. Wherein refers to the temporal power. 
 It is on account of this power that a king is dreaded and feared 
 by his subjects. 
 
 201. That same prayer; the Lord's Prayer where the plea 
 "forgive us our debts," is followed by the reason, "as we for- 
 give our debtors." It has been said that Portia ought not to 
 quote the Lord's Prayer to a Jew. But the prayer itself is a 
 mosaic of phrases from the Hebrew Scriptures. 
 
 206.. My deeds upon my head. By uttering these words Shy- 
 lock in effect closes the gates of mercy upon himself. When it 
 is shown later on that his course of action has made him Hable 
 to the penalty of death, he cannot beg for mercy, since he 
 has professed his willingness to accept the consequences of 
 his deeds. 
 
 214. malice bears down truth; the evil intent of Shy lock con- 
 quers the simple honesty of Antonio. Truth here means 
 ' honesty.' 
 
 223. A Daniel come to judgment. The reference is to the 
 History of Susannah and the Elders, one of the Apocryphal books 
 
148 Critical and Explanatory Notes. jjAcxiv. 
 
 of the Bible, in which Daniel, although a mere youth, acts aS a 
 wise and righteous judge against two wicked elders. 
 
 233. nearest the merchant's heart. When Shylock first pro- 
 posed the penalty to Antonio, he spoke of a pound '* of your 
 fair flesh to be cut off and taken in what part of your body 
 pleaseth me." Evidently, however, when the bond was drawn 
 up, Shylock managed to get the words, "nearest his heart," 
 inserted. 
 
 247-249. " The intention and meaning of the law is fully 
 applicable to the exaction of the penalty prescribed in the 
 bond." In other words, Portia pronounces Shylock's demand 
 to be perfectly legal. 
 
 257. on your charge; at your expense. 
 
 271. Poverty; pronounced here as a dissyllable. 
 
 272. For the metre of this line see Textual Notes, p. 194. 
 277. a love, a lover; the words 'lover' and 'friend' are 
 
 almost interchangeable with Shakespeare. 
 
 281. with all my heart. This play on words is wholly in keep- 
 ing with the quiet melancholy which characterizes Antonio. 
 
 282-287. This speech of Bassanio's must not be taken liter- 
 ally. In his agony that his own act had betrayed his friend 
 into the hands of the Jew, he exclaims that he would willingly 
 forfeit all the world to free him. Portia's answer, spoken we 
 must suppose with a quiet smile, helps to remind the audience 
 that this play is, after all, a comedy, and that some way will 
 be found to deliver Antonio. 
 
 296. Barrabas, accented here on the first syllable. Barrabas, 
 the name of the robber released at the time of Christ's cruci- 
 fixion, was also that of the villain in the Jew of Malta. Shy- 
 lock means that he wishes Jessica had married a criminal Jew 
 rather than a Christian. 
 
 318. this offer; the offer made in 1. 227. Shylock's haste to 
 get his money, and not only his money, but a profit of 200%, 
 as soon as he finds that he cannot secure his revenge still f-urther 
 lowers his character. 
 
 321. all justice; justice and nothing else. 
 
Scene I.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 149 
 
 228. in the substance; in the mass. 
 
 331. in the estimation of a hair; by the value, that is, the 
 weight, of a hair. 
 
 335. Why doth the Jew pause? Dr. Furness has pointed out 
 in an admirable note that in this pause the balance is " trembling 
 between Comedy and Tragedy." Shylock might still have 
 claimed his forfeiture and by sacrificing his own life brought 
 about the death of his enemy. But such an end would have 
 been inconsistent with the earlier scenes of the play. 
 
 347. another hold. So far Portia had merely defended An- 
 tonio from Shylock by showing that if the Jew attempted to 
 cut the pound of flesh, he would expose himself to the severest 
 penalties; now she goes a step farther and points out that by 
 his indirect attempt upon the life of a Venetian citizen he has 
 already subjected himself to these penalties. It is worth 
 noting that this point is not found in the story from which 
 Shakespeare drew most of the incidents of the Merchant of 
 Venice (see outline of// Petorone, p. 205). 
 
 368. the difference of our spirits; the difference between the 
 spirit of your religion and ours. 
 
 372. drive unto; diminish to, reduce to. 
 
 379. Gratiano's boisterous exultation over his fallen enemy 
 at once expresses the feelings with which the greater part of 
 Shakespeare's audience must have witnessed the discomfiture 
 of the Jew, and serves to bring out clearly the more magnanimous 
 spirit of Antonio. 
 
 383. in use, in trust. Antonio suggests that the Duke return 
 to Shylock that half of his goods which was forfeited to the 
 state, and that he himself take the other half, not as his own in 
 fee simple, but simply as a life-trust, to go at Shylock' s death 
 to his son-in-law, Lorenzo. 
 
 386. for this favour; in return for this partial restoration of his 
 property. 
 
 387. become a Christian. An Englishman of Shakespeare's 
 day would not have considered this condition as a punishment 
 inflicted upon Shylock, but rather as a signal mark of the benev- 
 
150 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [act iv. 
 
 olence of Antonio, who thus by kindly compulsion brought his 
 bitter enemy into the true church. The great actors who have 
 represented this as the last and most terrible blow to Shylock 
 have sacrificed Shakespeare's meaning to their desire for stage 
 effect. 
 
 396. / am not well. It has been suggested that Shylock leaves 
 the court with the intention of committing suicide, but this 
 seems to be a mere fanciful interpretation of the text. Nothing 
 in the play demands his death, and the feeling that he had laid 
 violent hands upon himself would cast a gloom over the poetry 
 and romance of the last act. 
 
 499. ten more; to make up the twelve jurymen who, if Gra- 
 tiano had been judge, would have voted to hang Shylock. 
 
 506. gratify. It is altogether repugnant to our modern ideas 
 of justice that the successful party in a suit should give a present 
 to the judge who decided in his favor; but it was by no means 
 an unusual practice in Shakespeare's day. Bacon, while judge, 
 received many presents from suitors in his court, and he seems 
 to have had moral scruples about only such gifts as were offered 
 before he had pronounced his decision. 
 
 410. in lieu whereof; in return for which. 
 
 419. know m-e when we meet again. There is, of course, a 
 roguish under-meaning in the apparently simple request that 
 Bassanio and Antonio would condescend to recognize the judge 
 as a friend when next they met him. 
 
 434. more depends on this than on the value; more depends on 
 my keeping this ring than its value would indicate. 
 
 451. comm^andment; pronounced in this line as a word of four 
 syllables. In one of the old texts it is spelled commandement, 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 To what sentiment in Shylock does the Duke appeal, 11. 16—34? 
 
 What reason does Shylock give for his refusal to listen to 
 this appeal ? 
 
 What does Shylock mean by saying that it is his humour 
 to claim the penalty? 
 
Scene II.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 151 
 
 What trait of Antonio's character is shown in his speeches 
 to the Duke, 11. 6-13, and to Bassanio, 11. 76-82? 
 
 Why had the Duke sent for Bellario? 
 
 What is the purpose of Portia's speech beginning, " The quality 
 of mercy''? 
 
 How does Shylock cut himself off from all sympathy by his 
 answer to Portia? 
 
 Why does Portia suggest to Shylock to have a surgeon in 
 attendance ? 
 
 What two characteristic traits of Antonio are apparent in 
 his farewell speech, 11. 265-281? 
 
 What dramatic effect is obtained by Bassanio 's speech about 
 his wife, 11. 282-287? 
 
 Is Portia's point about not shedding a drop of blood a good 
 one? How could Shylock have answered her? 
 
 Was Portia justified in preventing Shylock from accepting 
 the offer to pay the bond thrice over? 
 
 Is Portia's point about not cutting more or less than an 
 exact pound a good one? 
 
 Was she right in refusing to allow Shylock his principal? 
 
 How does Portia's third point compare in force with the 
 previous two? 
 
 What is the exact disposition that is made of Shylock's 
 property ? 
 
 In what state of mind does Shylock leave the stage ? 
 
 At what point in the scene does the issue waver between 
 tragedy and comedy? What decides the issue? 
 
 Was there anything improper in Antonio's "gratifying" the 
 judge ? 
 
 What double meaning is concealed in 1. 419? 
 
 Why does Portia ask for the ring? 
 
 What finally induces Bassanio to grant this request? Is he 
 to blame for this ? 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 This short scene is what we may call a ' business ' one. It 
 continues the Ring Episode which was begun in the last scene. 
 
152 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act v. 
 
 Portia receives the ring she has asked for, and Nerissa an- 
 nounces her intention of getting her ring back from her husband. 
 The fact that Gratiano, who has brought the ring to Portia, is 
 going to guide Nerissa to Shylock's house, gives her the neces- 
 sary opportunity to accomphsh her purpose. 
 
 6. upon more advice; upon further deUberation. 
 
 16. old swearing; plenty of swearing. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What is the purpose of this scene? 
 
 What additional effect is obtained by Nerissa' s getting back 
 her ring from Gratiano? 
 
 ACT V. 
 Scene I. 
 
 The last act with its single scene provides the appropriate 
 happy ending for the comedy. Had the play closed with the 
 trial scene, as some modem actors, wishing to centre all the 
 interest in the figure of Shylock, have arranged it, the impres- 
 sion left on the mind of the spectators would have been almost 
 painful. Villain as Shylock is, he is so thoroughly human that 
 we are deeply moved by his utter overthrow. In order to ban- 
 ish this impression from our minds, Shakespeare transports us 
 to the gardens of Belmont and lets us overhear the whispers of 
 lovers on a moonlight night, and laugh at the trick that Portia 
 and her maid play upon their husbands. The mock quarrel 
 and the reconciliation, the revelation of the part Portia has 
 played in saving Antonio, the restoration of the merchant's 
 fortune, all serve to make us forget the storm and stress of the 
 fourth act. The scene is flooded with moonlight and the magic 
 beauty of the verse rivals that of the southern summer night 
 itself. 
 
 4. Troilus; one of the many sons of Priam. He fell in love 
 with Cressida a beautiful lady in Troy. For a time she returned 
 his love; but she was obliged to leave Troy and join her father 
 in the Grecian army, which was besieging that city. Here she 
 
Scene!.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 153 
 
 soon forgot Troilus and transferred her affections to a Grecian 
 lover. Chaucer told this story in a charming poem called 
 Troilus and Criseyde, with which Shakespeare was no doubt 
 familiar, for the picture of Troilus on the walls is taken almost 
 direct from Chaucer. Some years after the Merchant of Venice 
 Shakespeare himself composed a play on this story, called 
 Troilus and Cressida. 
 
 7. Thisbe. According to an old story, Thisbe, a lady in Baby- 
 lon, loved a youth called Pyramus. Their parents opposed 
 their marriage, so they planned to meet outside the city 
 on a moonlight night and run away together. Thisbe, who 
 came first to the trysting place, was frightened by a lioness 
 and fled, leaving behind her a veil which the beast tore 
 to pieces and stained with blood from its jaws. When Pyramus, 
 who came after the lioness had departed, saw the torn and 
 bloody veil he thought that the beast had devoured Thisbe and 
 straightway killed himself. Chaucer included this story in his 
 Legend of Good Women, and Shakespeare had treated it jestingly 
 in his Midsummer Night's Dream before he wrote the Merchant 
 of Venice. 
 
 10. Dido; the famous queen of Carthage whose love for 
 Aeneas is told by Virgil. The willow which Shakespeare puts 
 into her hand was the symbol of deserted, or unhappy, love. 
 
 13. Medea; a famous witch of Grecian legend. She helped 
 her lover, Jason, win the golden fleece and then fled with him to 
 his home. On his request she renewed the youth of his father, 
 Aeson, by a magical concoction of herbs gathered by moonlight. 
 
 23. 7 would out-night you; I would beat you in this contest of 
 mentioning nights famous in the annals of love. 
 
 31. holy crosses; roadside crosses where travellers and pil- 
 grims stopped to rest and pray. 
 
 39. Launcelot is imitating the horn of the courier, or post, 
 whom he has just met. 
 
 49. expect their coming; await their arrival. 
 
 51-52. signify . . . within the house; tell the servants in the 
 house, 
 
154 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act v. 
 
 57. become the touches; suit the notes. 
 
 59. Patens, see Glossary and Textual Notes, p. 198. 
 
 62. still quiring; forever singing. The old idea of the ' music 
 of the spheres' was that the revolution of each planet in 
 its orbit produced a musical note, and all these notes 
 blended together in a wonderful harmony. Shakespeare ex- 
 pands the old conception and sets all the stars in heaven 
 singing, as they move, in harmony with the continual song of 
 the cherubim before the throne of God. Perhaps he was think- 
 ing of Job xxxviii. 7: " When the morning stars sang together 
 and all the sons of God shouted for joy." 
 
 the young-eye cheruhins. Cherubins was the regular plural 
 form in Shakespeare; to-day we use the correct Hebrew form, 
 'cherubim'. A cherub is one of the higher order of angelic 
 beings gifted especially with the attribute of knowledge and 
 the contemplation of divine mysteries. Shakespeare repeatedly 
 refers to the cherubic power of vision, and he may have meant 
 to allude to it here by the adjective young-eyed, i.e., with the 
 keen vision of eternal youth. On the other hand, a phrase in 
 Othello IV. ii. 63. " Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cher- 
 ubin," suggests that young-eyed refers to the youthful beauty 
 of the cherubim. 
 
 63-65. There has been much debate over the exact meaning 
 and grammatical construction of these lines. The sense seems 
 to be: " There is in our immortal souls a harmony like that of 
 the stars, but so long as this harmony is surrounded and dead- 
 ened by the earthly body, this muddy vesture of decay, we 
 can not hear it." It was an old doctrine of Grecian philosophy 
 that the soul itself was a harmony. See Textual Notes, p. 198, 
 
 77. make a mutual stand; make a common, or simultaneous, 
 halt. 
 
 79. the poet. Perhaps Shakespeare here alludes to his favorite 
 Latin poet, Ovid, who tells at some length the story of Orpheus. 
 This famous minstrel is said to have played so sweetly on Ihe 
 harp that not only wild beasts, but the very stones and trees, 
 left their places to follow after his music. 
 
Scej^eI.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. 155 
 
 82. his nature; its nature. Nought, 1. 81, is the antecedent 
 of the pronoun. Lines 81-82 may be paraphrased: "There is 
 nothing so soulless and brutish that its nature may not, for a 
 time at least, be softened by music." 
 
 86. spirit; pronounced almost like * sprit.* 
 
 87. Erebus; in Grecian mythology a dark and gloomy region 
 in the lower world; here used as equivalent to hell. 
 
 98. music . . . of the house; the company of musicians kept 
 by Portia at Belmont. 
 
 10 1, silence bestows that virtue on it; the silence of the night 
 increases the power and charm of the music. 
 
 107-108. " How many things owe to attendant circumstances 
 the charm which displays them at their best and wins them 
 their due meed of praise." 
 
 109. Endymion; the beautiful shepherd of Greek mythology 
 who was loved by Diana, the goddess of the moon. As we see 
 from Nerissa's words in 1. 92 the moon, which had been shining 
 so brightly at the beginning of the scene, is now covered by 
 clouds. Portia, who wishes to stop the music which is playing 
 in honor of her return, uses this fact as a pretty and fanciful 
 reason for her request. Portia's remark in 11. 112— 113, that 
 Lorenzo knows her by her voice, shows that it is now so dark 
 that he cannot see her face. 
 
 121. a tucket; a flourish on a trumpet. 
 
 124-126. The clouds have now passed away and it is again 
 moonlight almost as bright as day. 
 
 127. hold day with the Antipodes; enjoy the day at the same 
 time that people on the opposite side of the globe do, 
 
 129-130. For the word-play on light see note on II. vi. 
 42. 
 
 136-137. There is a play on the word bound in these lines. 
 In 1. 136, it means * indebted;' in 1. 137 it means ' bound by a 
 legal tie.' Portia plays on the word to relieve the embar- 
 rassment of Bassanio in presenting to his bride the man who 
 had so nearly lost his life to supply his friend with the means 
 to woo and win her. 
 
156 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act v. 
 
 141. scant this breathing courtesy; cut short this courtesy which 
 consists of mere words. 
 
 142. With this speech of Gratiano's the Ring Episode is 
 brought upon the scene. We can hear his loud voice breaking 
 into the quiet talk between Portia, Bassanio, and Antonio, with 
 vehement protests of innocence. 
 
 148. A syllable is wanting in this line. If the reader pauses 
 for a moment after ine, the rhythm will be preserved. 
 
 149. cutler's poetry; such poetry as a cutler would engrave 
 upon a knife. It is not very good taste in Gratiano to compare 
 the posy on the ring which his wife had given him with the 
 doggerel a cutler might put on a knife ; but Gratiano is not dis- 
 tinguished for good taste. 
 
 162. scrubbed; little and mean-looking. The joke lies in 
 Gratiano's thus abusing his wife's looks and figure to her face 
 without being in the least aware of what he is doing. And it is 
 not less amusing to find Gratiano, the everlasting talker, com- 
 plaining of the prating boy who had talked him out of his ring. 
 
 169. The metre in this line is a little awkward. Dr. Furness 
 suggests that 'riveted' should be pronounced as a dissyllable; 
 but this hardly improves the rhythm, although it does away with 
 the superfluous syllable. " Read the line with a strong emphasis 
 on riveted, and the metre takes care of itself." Gummere. 
 
 175. This line, too, has an extra syllable, but by reading with 
 strong emphasis on too unkind and hurrying over the rest the 
 rhythm will flow smoothly enough. 
 
 189. It is not very gentlemanly of Gratiano to get Bassanio 
 into trouble in this way; but he is so anxious to excuse himself 
 that he does not stop to think. 
 
 199-208. We must not imagine Portia speaking these lines 
 in a loud and angry tone. Those who have seen Miss Ellen 
 Terry as Portia can never forget the spirit of laughing roguery 
 which seemed to inspire her in this scene. 
 
 199. the virtue of the ring; the power of the ring. 
 
 201. your honour to contain the ring; how much it was to your 
 honor to keep the ring. 
 
Scene!.] Critical and Explanatory Notes. ^57 • 
 
 205. terms of zeal; positive language. 
 
 wanted the modesty; the subject is ' who,' understood. 
 
 206. to urge the thing held as a cereinony; to demand the ring 
 which you held sacred. 
 
 210. a civil doctor; a Doctor of Civil Law. 
 
 217. / was beset with shame and courtesy; I was attacked at 
 once by shame for refusing the man to whom I owed so much 
 and by courtesy which urged me to grant his request. Bassanio 
 makes a very good defence of his case; but Portia's answer 
 plunges him into still deeper trouble, for she declares that if the 
 Doctor was so irresistible, Bassanio had better keep him away 
 from her. 
 
 239. Note Portia's prompt courtesy to Antonio. She is 
 quite willing to tease her husband; but she doesn't want Antonio 
 to think for a moment that he is to blame. 
 
 240. this enforced wrong; this wrong I was compelled to do 
 you. 
 
 266. Some of the dialogue in this scene is rather too broad for * 
 our modern taste, and is omitted from this edition. Just as 
 Gratiano begins to lose his head completely and to shout aloud 
 of his wrongs, Portia, who sees that the jest has gone far enough, 
 stops him and clears up the whole affair of the disguises and the 
 rings. 
 
 278. You shall not know by what strange accident. It is, of 
 course, the wish to reward Antonio for his sufferings that leads 
 Shakespeare to add to the original story this incident of his 
 ships having come safe to harbor. There must not be a shadow 
 of loss or disappointment over the happy close of the play. 
 "With the same intention the runaway couple, Lorenzo and Jes- 
 sica, are here presented with a deed of gift conveying to them. 
 on Shylock's death his whole fortune. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 What is Shakespeare's purpose in opening the scene with this 
 duet by Lorenzo and Jessica? 
 
 What note is struck by their reniiniscences of old stone?' 
 
158 Critical and Explanatory Notes. [Act v. 
 
 Why does Portia travel by night to return to Belmont? 
 
 What trait of character is shown by Lorenzo's remarks on 
 the music of the spheres? 
 
 Why does Portia ask her guests and her servants not to let 
 Bassanio know that she had been away from home? 
 
 How is the mock quarrel about the rings started? 
 
 How does Portia discover that Bassanio has given away her 
 ring? 
 
 Why does she insist that he has given the ring to a woman ? 
 
 How is the trick of the rings cleared up ? 
 
 Why does Shakespeare bring Antonio's supposedly lost ships 
 safe to harbor? 
 
 Why does Portia decline to tell how she had heard of their safe 
 arrival ? 
 
 Why does Shakespeare take this opportunity to let Lorenzo 
 and Jessica know of the fortune that awaits them ? 
 
 What is the general effect of the whole scene as contrasted 
 with the trial scene of the preceding act ? 
 
Textual Notes. 
 
 In July, 1598, James Roberts, an enterprising London printer, 
 entered on the Stationers' Registers " a booke of the Marchaunt 
 of Venyce or otherwise called the Jewe of Venyce. Pro- 
 vided that yt bee not prynted by the same James Robertes 
 or anye other whatsoever without lycence first had from the 
 Right honourable the lord Chamberlen." Apparently Shake- 
 speare's company, the Lord Chamberlain's men, applied to 
 their patron to refuse the necessary license, for the book did 
 not appear for over two years. In the mean time another 
 printer, Thomas Heyes, appears to have secured another copy 
 of the play, for in October, 1600, we find the following 
 entry credited to " Thomas Haies" in the Registers: " Entred 
 for his copie . . . by Consent of master Robertes. A booke 
 called the booke of the merchant of Venyce." Shakespeare's 
 company apparently no longer wished to prevent the play 
 from appearing in print, and both copies came out in quarto 
 form in the same year, 1600. Roberts must have secured the 
 job of printing Heyes's copy, — the title-page states that it was 
 printed by I. R. (James Roberts) for Thomas Heyes — in consid- 
 eration of his allowing it to appear. He apparently entrusted 
 the work to a more careless compositor than the man who set 
 up his own copy. Consequently certain editors, among them 
 Dr. Furriess, consider that Q^ (Roberts's Quarto) is on the whole 
 the more trustworthy text. There are, however, certain differ- 
 ences, which will be pointed out in the following notes, that have 
 convinced some critics, especially Dr. Furnivall, that Q2 (Heyes's 
 Quarto) contains a few corrections due to Shakespeare himself. 
 The two copies were probably printed from two separate tran- 
 scripts of the original manuscript. The company apparently 
 kept a copy of Heyes's Quarto by them, introduced from time 
 to time a few changes, and when Heming and Condell were 
 
 159 
 
i6o Textual Notes. [ActI. 
 
 gathering materials for the first collected edition of Shake- 
 speare's plays turned over to them, this play-house copy. The 
 Merchant of Venice in the First Folio is clearly printed from 
 the Heyes Quarto, 
 
 It is plain from the above that the three old editions of the 
 text go back to a common source, the original manuscript — 
 probably in Shakespeare's handwriting — of the drama. It has 
 been well said by Dr. Furness that they may be treated as 
 " proof-sheets out of which we may, with what power of insight 
 Nature has vouchsafed to us, prepare our own text with an 
 abounding charity for those who do not agree with us, which 
 in all likelihood will comprise the rest of mankind." 
 
 ACT I. 
 Scene I. 
 
 27. dock'd. Qi has dockes; the other old texts, docks. The 
 change made by Rowe to dock'd has been generally received by 
 modern editors. Furness believes that the word originally 
 written was dockd and that this was misprinted docks. 
 
 84. alabaster. All the old editions read alabla.ster, the usual 
 spelling in Shakespeare's day. The change was made by Pope. 
 
 93. The text follows the Qq; Ff, / am Sir an Oracle. All 
 editors since Rowe follow the Qq. 
 
 95. these, the reading of Q2 F^, is preferable to those of Qi, 
 since it maintains the connection, which is broken by the latter, 
 between the sort of men " whose visages do cream and mantle," 
 and the men ' ' who are only reputed wise for saying nothing. ' ' 
 
 113. All the old editions read: ''It is that anything now.'' 
 Of the various attempts to correct the evident mistake, Rowe's 
 alone has met with general approbation and is adopted in the 
 present text. Johnson suggested new for now; but this does 
 not so well connect the speech with the following words. 
 
 115. The Ff omit as. All editors except Rowe and Knight 
 follow the Qq. 
 
 155. Here again Fj has dropped a word, now^ from the line, 
 
Scene il.j Textual Notes. l6l 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 7. It is no mean happiness. So the Qq; Ff It is no small 
 happiness, thus destroying the characteristically Shakesperian 
 play on words. 
 
 18. The awkward reading of the Qq, then to be, is corrected 
 by Fi into then be. 
 
 23. reasoning. For this reading of the Qq, F^ substitutes 
 reason, which Dr. Furness prefers, taking reason in the sense of 
 ' speech,' ' discourse,' ' talk.' It seems best, however, to follow 
 all modern editors and adopt the reading of the Qq, taking 
 reasoning as alluding to the debate which Portia has been carry- 
 ing on with Nerissa. 
 
 25-26. Modern editors follow the Ff in reading whom in both 
 these lines instead of the ungrammatical , but characteristically 
 Elizabethan, who, of the Qq. 
 
 27. Is it. So the Qq. The it is of the F^ is a manifest error. 
 
 36. Editors are divided as to whether to print the you of 
 Q2F1 between who and shall of this line, or to omit it with Q^. 
 Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, Warburton, Collier, Rolfe, Delius, and 
 Furnivall approve the reading of QzFj, while Johnson, Hudson, 
 the Cambridge editors, Furness, Verity, and Gummere follow Q^. 
 The Cambridge editors hold that, ceteris paribus, Qi is the higher 
 authority; Dr. Furness maintains that in this instance it gives 
 us the better text. On the other hand, Furnivall cites this 
 very line as an instance where Q2 supplies a necessary word. 
 omitted in Q^ (Forewords to Griggs' Reprint of Q^, p. v). A 
 consideration of the whole passage in Q^ leaves no doubt as to 
 the corruptness of that text. The passage reads there as fol- 
 lows: "therefore the lottery that he hath devised in these three 
 chests of gold, silver, and leade, wherof who chooses his meaning 
 chooses you, no doubt you will never be chosen by any rightly, 
 but one who shall rightly love." It seems plain that the you 
 which in Q2 follows who was by the printer of this passage in Qj 
 misplaced and set after no doubt. The editors who follow Q^ in 
 
i62 Textual Notes. [actI. 
 
 omitting you in 1. 36, silently drop this first you from, the text. 
 Dr. Fumess alone proposes to retain it, and to break the sen- 
 tence by putting a period between you and no doubt. This, 
 however, involves such a radical reconstruction of the passage 
 that it has not been adopted, so far as I know, by any subse- 
 quent editors. As to the interpretation of the passage see 
 note, p. 103. 
 
 47. It is interesting in connection with what has been said 
 above to note that in this line too Q^ omits a necessary word, 
 i.e., him. 
 
 49. The Qi reading there is is generally preferred to the Q2Fi 
 reading, is there. 
 
 51. Both Qq have if; Ff and. 
 
 55. Both Qq have be; Ff to be. 
 
 59. There seems no good reason for altering the name Le 
 Boune, which appears in the Qq, Ff^.g to Le Bon. The change was 
 made by Capell and has been adopted by subsequent editors. 
 
 65. Throstle. Qq and F^ read trassell, which Furness speaks 
 of as a phonetic spelling of throstle, the correction made by 
 Pope. In the only other place where the word occurs in Shake- 
 speare (M. N. D., III. i. 130) both Qq and F^ read throstle. 
 
 70. Shall, so the Qq; Ff should. Since Hanmer all editors 
 have followed the Qq. Dr. Furness, however believes should the 
 better reading. The syntax of the clause seems to demand 
 shall rather than should. 
 
 71. Fauconbridge of QqF^ is, I think, wrongly altered to 
 Falconbridge by modern editors. 
 
 83. Scottish of the Qq was altered by the editors of Fj to 
 other for fear of offending James I. 
 
 96. and of QqFi was altered by Capell to an, in which he has 
 been followed by most modern editors. There seems, however, 
 no need to make the change, since and was commonly used in 
 Shakespeare's time as a conditional conjunction; cf. the Ff 
 reading in 1. 51 of this scene. Except in the form an' 't ( = and it) 
 an in the sense of if is found but once in F^ (L. L. L., V. ii. 232). 
 
 121. The Qq reading, / pray God grant was altered by the 
 
Scene III.] Textual Notes. 163 
 
 players into / wish to escape the penalty oi £\o, fixed by the act 
 of 1605, for using the name of God upon the stage. This change 
 appears in Ff. The true reading was restored by Capell. 
 
 124. Qi omits a before scholar. 
 
 126. The reading of the old copies, Mountferrat, has been 
 changed by modern editors to Montjerrat. 
 
 127-8. There is little to choose between the reading of Q^, 
 he was so called, and that of Q2F1, so was he called. Most editors 
 prefer the latter. 
 
 134. Fi omits this line, probably by accident, although 
 Knight and R. G. White prefer the F^ reading. 
 
 135. for. Fi omits this word, which is found in both Qq. 
 147. gate, the reading of Q2F1, is better than gates of Q^, since 
 
 it sharpens the antithesis. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 20. Rialto. This word seems to have given great trouble 
 to the old compositors. In this line and 1. 39 we find in the old 
 Qq and Ff the following spellings: Ryalta, Ryalto, Royalto, 
 Rialto. Modern texts follow the received modem spelling. 
 
 21. The comma after hath was supplied by Theobald, who has 
 been followed by most modern editors. 
 
 62. The albeit of Q2F1 is generally preferred to the although 
 of Q,. 
 
 65-66. Qi reads, 
 
 65. He breake a customer are you resolu'd 
 
 66. How much he would haue ? 
 
 65. He breake a custome: is he yet possest 
 
 66. How much ye would? 
 
 Fi follows Q2, except that it misprints he for ye in 1. 66. 
 The reading of Qj has been followed by the best modern 
 editors, and Furnivall considers this one of the two test-passages 
 which settle the superiority of Q2 to Qj. On the other hand, 
 Dr. Furness puts in a vigorous plea for the " superior simplicity 
 and clearness of the text of Q^." 
 
164 Textual Notes. [Act I. 
 
 No one, I think, however, who reads the two versions aloud, 
 can fail to be impressed with the superiority of the metre in 
 Q2. The omission of the accented syllable in the 3rd foot of 
 1. 65 in Qi causes the line to limp painfully, nor is the metre 
 much helped by the proposal to read resolv'd as a trisyllable. 
 And in the following line, although by contracting 7i^ would of 
 Qi into he'd the metre is preserved, yet the accent, which in Q2 
 falls properly on the emphatic word would, is thus thrown upon 
 the unimportant have. As to diction possest seems to me, at 
 least, rather more vigorous than resolv'd. The only objection 
 to the Q, reading seems to consist in the fact that Antonio 
 breaks off in his speech to Shylock and addresses Bassanio, 
 that Shylock, and not Bassanio, answers the question Antonio 
 had addressed to his friend, and that in 1. 68 Shylock's you 
 refers to Bassanio, and not to Antonio, to whom he has just 
 been speaking. But this objection is very slight. Antonio 
 despises Shylock and wishes to have as little to say to him as 
 possible. It is quite characteristic that he should turn from 
 him to Bassanio and- ask, " Have you told him how much you 
 want?" Shylock, on the other hand, is eager to do business 
 with Antonio at first hand, and not through Bassanio (cf. 11. 
 30-31); he therefore anticipates Bassanio's answer. As to the 
 you in 1. 68 there is no difficulty whatever; Shylock turns to 
 Bassanio as he says this and, perhaps, points to him. All in all 
 it seems to me that the arrangement of speeches in Q^j presents 
 no difficulty, but, on the contrary, that the dialogue is more 
 animated. I can see no reason whatever for changing ye, 
 1. 66, into we as suggested by Walker and approved by Dr. 
 Fumess in case the Q2 is adopted. In 1. 65 I have ventured 
 to insert the stage direction \To Bass.l to make the passage 
 clearer to the reader. 
 
 75. The old texts have a full stop at the close of this line. 
 The emendation of a comma and a dash proposed by Dyce, 
 and almost unanimously adopted, shows how, in Booth's words, 
 Antonio breaks in impatiently. 
 
 85. The old reading, Qq pyld, Ff piVd, was altered to peeled 
 
Scene III.] Textual Notes. 165 
 
 by Pope, and most modern editors accept this correction. In 
 Shakespeare's time the words peel, ' to take off the bark,' and 
 pill ' to take off the hair,' appeared to have been used inter- 
 changeably. Thus in I. King Henry VI, I. iii. 30. we 
 have " peeled (Fi pieVd) priest" for " shaven priest." Inas- 
 much, however, as the form pilled still appears in the King 
 James' Bible in Genesis xxx. 37, 38, to which passage Shylock 
 is here alluding, it has seemed best to leave in the text the form 
 which Shakespeare certainly used. 
 
 103. godly. I have ventured to restore to the text this cor- 
 rection of Rowe's, although most modern editors retain the 
 reading goodly of the Qq and Ff. The repetition of goodly in 
 this line is so tame; the substitution of the word goodly for 
 godly, good for God and vice versa, so common in old editions, 
 and finally the presence of goodly in 1. 102, so evident a source 
 of the printer's error, that I agree with Dr. Furness in holding 
 godly for goodly to be a lectio certissima. 
 
 105. There does not seem to be any necessity for placing 
 with the Cambridge editors a semicolon after see and a dash 
 after rate. The old reading, then let me see the rate, gives a per- 
 fectly satisfactory sense. 
 
 113. spit. Here and in 1. 127 Qq and Ff^-j have spet. This 
 obsolete form occurs only in the M. of V. (cf. II. vii. 45); 
 everywhere else Shakespeare has spit. 
 
 123. can. So the Qq ; Ff should. All modern editors prefer can. 
 
 126-7. These lines, which are printed as one in QqFf were 
 first separated by Steevens. 
 
 135. a breed of. I prefer this reading of the Ff to the breed 
 for of the Qq. As Dr. Furness points out Antonio has in mind 
 the words of Shylock, " I make it (my gold and silver) breed;" 
 and he conveys a reproach to him for his usury by calling metal 
 barren. A breed for barren metal can only mean ' ' a breed for the 
 use of barren metal," and this seems much less pointed than the 
 reading of the Ff. May not the change from for to of be Shake- 
 speare's own, noted in the margin of the play-house copy and 
 reproduced in the printing of F^? 
 
1 66 Textual Notes. [Act ii. 
 
 138. Nearly all editors prefer the reading of the Qq penalty 
 to that of the Ff penalties. 
 
 144. Q3 substitutes the name of Antonio here for that of 
 Bassanio, and it is a very plausible suggestion. Bassanio is 
 suspicious of Shylock's intentions (of. 11. 155-6 and 1. 180), 
 whereas Antonio falls at once into the snare, and remarks re- 
 peatedly on the kindness of the Jew (11. 164, 179). But the 
 weight of authority is so decidedly against the change that I 
 have not ventured to put it in the text, 
 
 152. The text, like that of all editors since Pope, follows the 
 Qq. Ff have it pleaseth. 
 
 178. The He of the old texts was expanded to I will by Theo- 
 bald metris causa. 
 
 1 79. Most editors follow the Qq in reading The Hebrew instead 
 of the Ff This Hebrew. It seems as if This might be a player's 
 corruption springing from the gesture with which the imper- 
 sonator of Antonio indicated the retiring Shylock. The Hebrew 
 corresponds to The Jew of 1. 154. 
 
 Qi reads so kind, which injures the metre. 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 4. Qi omits me. 
 
 II. Qi reads Hath; Q^Pi Have. It seems better where authori- 
 ties are so equally divided to follow the reading of Q2F1 rather 
 than to shock our modem sense of grammatical propriety by 
 reading with the Cambridge editors: "Virgins hath loved." 
 
 27. Qi reads out-stare; Q2F1 ore-stare. The latter, though 
 adopted by Knight, Rolfe, and a few others, is generally aban- 
 doned in favor of the more spirited reading of Q^. 
 
 30. QiFf agree here on he, which is much preferable to the 
 colloquial a ( = he) of Q2. 
 
 31. All the old editions read win the Lady. Rowe's correc- 
 tion, win thee. Lady, has been adopted without a dissenting 
 voice. 
 
Scene IL] Textual Notes. 167 
 
 35, page. This is Theobald's happy conjecture. All the 
 old editions, followed by Rowe and Pope, have rage. 
 43. unto; so Q^^y', Qi reads to, which spoils the metre. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 For Enter Launcelot the old texts read Enter the Cloune alone. 
 
 I. will serve. It has been suggested that not has dropped 
 out of this line. Allen proposes to read will forbid. But it 
 seems as if the explanation of Eccles that will serve is equivalent 
 to "will have to yield" or "acquiesce" would allow the old 
 text to stand. 
 
 4, 5, 8, 9. The Q2F1 reading lohhe gives a very queer look to 
 the passage. The compositor of F3 attempted to set matters 
 right by substituting Job. Since Pope, however, the reading of 
 Qi, Gobbo, has been accepted without discussion. 
 
 Launcelot. This modem spelling dates from Rowe; 
 Qi has Lancelet, Q2P1 Launcelet. 
 
 II. Via is Rowe's correction for fia of QqFf. 
 16. Qi omits Launcelot. 
 
 23. The ill of Qi is not defended even by the Cambridge 
 editors, although it was accepted by a long line of authorities 
 from Pope to Johnson. As Fumivall says, " Q^ misses Lance- 
 lot's point, that both conscience and the Fiend are giving good 
 advice, and we must have the well of Q2 to match the ' Con- 
 science say I you counsell well' and Lancelot's following the 
 Fiend's advice by budging from Shylock." 
 
 24. Of the two nonsensical words incarnal Q^ and incarna- 
 tion Q2F1 the latter seems to me somewhat the more complete 
 and happy nonsense. 
 
 30. Fi omits the but of Qq. 
 
 32. Commandment, the reading of F^Qj is generally accepted 
 rather than the comm,and of Q^, which, however, is preferred 
 by the Cambridge editors. 
 
 38-39. try confusions. So Q2F1; the conclusions of Q^ is 
 certainly wrong. Probably the printer was trying to make 
 sense out of Shakespeare's designed nonsense. The phrase, 
 
1 68 Textual Notes. [Act II. 
 
 try conclusions, occurs in Hamlet III., iv., 195, where it means 
 " try experiments." But as the Cambridge editors say (Claren- 
 don Press, p. 93), Launcelot would not have given a hard word 
 so correctly. 
 
 45. to; so QoFi, Qi unto. 
 
 47. Be. This is the reading of all the old editions up to F4. 
 There seems to be no reason for changing it to 'by.' The 
 meaning is perfectly plain and the old form gives a touch of 
 rusticity to Gobbo's speech. 
 
 60. The interrogation mark at the close of this line in many 
 modern editions is defended by Dyce on the ground that we 
 have here a repetition of Launcelot's question in 1. 52. This, 
 the Cambridge editors say, seems conclusive. But between 
 1. 52 and the present passage occurs Launcelot's affirmation, 
 we talk of young Master Launcelot (11. 66-67). ^^ 11- 59~6o, it 
 seems to me, we have a repeated affirmation directly addressed 
 to Gobbo; "ergo," (i.e., since the young man in question is 
 my friend) call him Master Launcelot. Gobbo's reply, which 
 Dr. Furness thinks a response fitter to a question than to a com- 
 mand, is only a bit of the old man's obstinacy. Instead of 
 yielding to the demand to put a handle to his son's name, he 
 shakes his head and answers as before. Of Launcelot. It is 
 quite true, as the Cambridge editors observe, that interrogation 
 marks are frequently omitted in the old texts. They are want- 
 ing, for example, in lines 72 and 75 of this scene. But that is 
 hardly a reason for supplying them where they are not needed, 
 
 84-85. in the end. As far as sense goes there is nothing to 
 choose between this reading of Q2F^ and that of Q^ at the length, 
 which is preferred by the Cambridge editors. The majority of 
 editors print in the end. 
 
 100. fill-horse. The pil horse of Q^ is a misprint; phil horse 
 in Q2F1 a misspelling of this word. 
 
 107. Here, as in 1. 76, the careful printer of Q^ supplies the 
 interrogation mark which is wanting in Q2Ffi_3. 
 
 108. 'gree. Q2F1 gree; Qi agree. Euphony seems to demand 
 the former, which is preferred by most modern editors. 
 
Scene II.] Textual Notes. 169 
 
 129. The dashes in the following lines representing the alter- 
 nate interruptions of Launcelot and of his father are not found 
 in the old editions, except in 1. 145, where Q^ has a dash after is. 
 
 165. Qi has ha; Q2F1 have. 
 
 166. The punctuation of the text is that of Q^. QnF^ have 
 head, well: 
 
 168. I omit the comma after book in the old texts as likely to 
 confuse the modern reader. The clause / shall . . . fortune is the 
 direct object of swear. I follow Knight in placing an exclama- 
 tion mark after fortune. The whole sentence is equivalent to 
 an exclamation, " No man in Italy has a luckier hand than I ! " 
 
 171. Aleven. This old form for eleven was, according to 
 Halliwell, a common vulgarism in Shakespeare's day. The 
 careful printer of Qi corrected it to eleven; the printer of Q^ 
 set it as two words, a leven, in which he was followed by F^. 
 There is no authority for the Cambridge editors' a' leven. 
 
 172. scape. Here again the Q^ gives us the full form 
 escape; but scape suits Launcelot 's tongue better. There is no 
 need of supplying an apostrophe before the word (Cambridge 
 editors read 'scape) , which is a perfectly good form as it stands 
 in the Q2P1 text. 
 
 177. of an eye. These words of Qi were omitted in Q2F1, 
 but were restored to the text by Pope. 
 
 183. where is. Where's of QqFf was expanded to where is by 
 Pope metris causa. 
 
 193. thou art. So the Qq. Fj has they are, probably a 
 sophistication of the printer who connected the phrase with 
 faults in the preceding line. This error ran through the Ff and 
 Rowe. We have to thank Pope for the restoration to the text 
 of the Qq reading. 
 
 194. take pains. I accept the suggestion of Dr. Furness and 
 read pains for the pain of QqFf. The phrase take pain occurs 
 but in one other place in Shakespeare (King Henry VIII, III. 
 II. 72.) , and there as here at the end of a line, where the s may 
 easily have been dropped off. See Walker, Critical Examina- 
 tion of the Text of Shakespeare, p. 233 ssq., for instances of 
 
170 Textual Notes. [ActII. 
 
 such omissions. The phrase take pains, on the other hand, 
 occurs in one form or another eighteen times in Shakespeare. 
 
 197. misconster'd. I much prefer this form, current in Shake- 
 speare's day, to the misconstrued which was substituted for it 
 by Rowe and which most modern editors adopt. Misconster'd 
 shows the old pronunciation with the accent on the second 
 syllable and so preserves the rhythm of this line which is lost 
 if we read misconstrued with the modern accent. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 9. Ff omit in. 
 
 II. do. The reading of QqF^ doe was altered in Fj to did, 
 and this change has been accepted by most modern editors, 
 apparently for the sake of the joke on the Jew implied in Launce- 
 lot's insinuation that some Christian did play the rogue and get, 
 (i.e., beget) Jessica. There is not, however, the slightest reason 
 for this change, since the reading of the QqF^ makes perfectly 
 good sense, taking get thee in the sense of " get thee as a wife." 
 Dr. Furness objects that those who saw no harm in Jessica's 
 theft of her father's money would have seen no knavery in 
 stealing the girl herself; but in the very scene of the elopement 
 Lorenzo says to his friends, " When you shall choose to play the 
 thieves for wives." It is, I believe, the duty of a modern editor 
 to free the text from this corruption, which probably took its 
 origin in a play-house ' gag.' 
 
 14. something. So Qq; Ff have soynewhat. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 10. and it shall. Theobald's alteration of Awe/ to Aw has been 
 universally accepted. But see note on I., 11., 96. If a change 
 from the text of Q2F1 is to be made we should print if as in Q^. 
 
 lo-ii. it shall seem. So the Qq; F^ shall it seem. 
 23. you, omitted in Q^. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 I. shalt. So the Qq; F^-j shall. 
 
 4. The question mark of QiF^ has properly been changed to an 
 exclamation mark by modem editors. 
 
Scene v.] Textual Notes. 171 
 
 8. Qi inserts that before /, in which it is followed by the Cam- 
 bridge editors. The reading of Q2F1, tell me I could, etc., seems 
 more appropriate to Launcelot. 
 
 22. I prefer the punctuation of Capell, viz. — after together to 
 that of the Cambridge editors, who follow the old texts in 
 printing. And in this line is not, I think, equivalent to if, 
 but a mere connective joining this speech of Launcelot to his 
 former speech which Shylock had interrupted. This being the 
 case, it is evident that the clause, and they have conspired together, 
 is not the protasis of a conditional sentence, but rather a sen- 
 tence suddenly interrupted, in Launcelot 's usual fashion. This 
 interruption should be marked by a dash. 
 
 26. i'the. Q2F1 ith; Q^ in the. 
 
 27. in th' afternoon. This is the reading of QiF^; Q2 in thafter- 
 noon. The reading in the afternoon adopted by the Cambridge 
 editors occurs for the first time in F^. 
 
 28. you, omitted in Q^. 
 
 30. squealing. This reading of Q2F1 seems a little more 
 appropriate to the music of the fife than the squeaking of Q^, 
 which, nevertheless, has been adopted by many editors from 
 Pope to Delius. 
 
 41. Qi inserts a between at and window. 
 
 43. Jewes. Pope's alteration of /^ze;^5, which occurs in QqFj,, 
 (Ffg.^ Jew's) to Jewess' , has been almost universally adopted, in 
 spite of the fact that Shakespeare nowhere uses the word 
 Jewess. Launcelot addresses Jessica (IL iii. 11.) as "most 
 sweet Jew." The change was made by Pope for the sake of the 
 metre. But if the reading of the QqFf Jewes is retained and 
 pronounced as two syllables, the metre is preserved.* This old 
 spelling of the possessive case occurs also in the old texts in 
 II. II. 35, 41, and 45. In the proverbial expression quoted by 
 Launcelot the word probably retained the old dissyllabic 
 pronunciation. The word Jewess, though not unknown in 
 
 ♦ Thus in L. L. L., V, ii, 332, we have 
 
 To show his teeth as white as whale's (Fi Whales) bone, 
 where the metre shows that whales must be pronounced as two syllables. 
 
172 Textual Notes. {ActII. 
 
 Shakespeare's day, was of comparatively rare occurrence, while 
 the phrase " worth a Jew's eye" was proverbial. See note 
 p. ii8. 
 
 47. and he. So Qq; F^ has but he. 
 
 Scene VI. 
 
 2. make stand. So the Qq ; Ff insert a, needlessly, before stand. 
 
 6. seal. So the Qq; Ff wrongly steale. 
 
 12. The question mark after first in Q^ is omitted by Q2FJ-2. 
 
 14. Younker. This emendation of Rowe's for the younger or 
 yonger of QqFf has been very generally received. Dr. Furness 
 holds that it is unnecessary; but a younger means a "disciple' 
 or ' follower, ' and in this sense it does not occur in Shake- 
 speare. Younker, however, meaning * stripling ' ; ' novice, ' 
 'young fool,' occurs in /. King Henry IV, III. iii. 92, and 
 ///. King Henry VI, II. i. 24. The latter passage is so nearly 
 akin in meaning to the one under discussion that we need have 
 no hesitation in believing that Shakespeare used the word 
 younker in both, 
 
 17. the prodigal. So the Qq, making the allusion to the 
 Prodigal Son more pointed than the Ff which read a prodigal. 
 
 33. it is. So the Q2Fi. Qi 'tis. 
 
 44. are you. So the Qq. F^ you are. 
 
 50. mo. So the Qq. F^ more. Shakespeare probably wrote 
 the archaic form and the printer of F^ altered it. 
 
 51. Gentile. So QiFfg.^; Q2F1 gentle. Capell alone of modem 
 editors prints gentle. Shakespeare uses gentle as a substantive 
 only in the plural. 
 
 58. gentlemen. So QiF^. Q^ gentleman. 
 
 66. This entire line is omitted in Q^ as well as the name Gra- 
 tiano (Gra.) before the next speech, which is thus put in the 
 mouth of Antonio. This, of course, is a mere printer's error. 
 
 Scene VII. 
 
 5. many. This word is omitted in the Ff, 
 
 18. The period after threatens was inserted by Rowe. There 
 is no mark of punctuation in this line in QqFf. 
 
Scene IX.] Textual Notes. 173 
 
 34. Capell suggested that the word her had dropped out at 
 the end of this hne. Dr. Furness pronounces the emendation 
 most certain; "it is not only a repetition of the very phrase 
 two hnes before, but it is easy to see that the printer was misled 
 by the ' here' in the line following." It is not, I think, likely 
 that the presence of here in 1. 34 would lead to the omissicn 
 of her in 1. 2>Z- According to Abbott (§455) the feminine 
 syllable is seldom a monosyllable in Shakespeare. None of the 
 bast modern editors have accepted this emendation. 
 
 57. stamped. QpFf stampt. Rowe's correction for the sake 
 of the metre has been accepted by all subsequent editors. 
 
 69. tombs. All the old texts read timber. Johnson's con- 
 jecture that tombes in the manuscript was misprinted timber 
 has been very generally accepted. Knight and Halliwell at- 
 tempt to defend the old reading by taking timber as a plural 
 noun referring either to a coffin or to the golden box which 
 Morocco has just opened. The phrase a gilded tomb appears 
 in Shakespeare's Sonnets, CI. 11. 
 
 Scene VIII. 
 
 6. came. So the Qq. Ff comes. 
 
 39. Slubber. So QiFf. Q2 Slumber. 
 
 46. There. Dyce's emendation then, approved by Dr. Fur- 
 ness, is so plausible that one is almost tempted to put it in the 
 text. There in 1. 45, referring to Belmont, may have influenced 
 the printer to set there in 1. 46. Allowing the text to stand, 
 however, we must explain there as meaning at that point in his 
 speech. 
 
 Scene IX. 
 
 7. you. So the Qq; Ff thou. 
 
 48. peasantry. So the Q2 (Qj pezantry) . Ff pleasantry. 
 53. The direction, [Aside] was first inserted by Capell. 
 62, Qi omits is. 
 
 78. wroath. It seems better to retain this old spelling of 
 QqFf , both to preserve the rhyme and to prevent the average 
 
174 Textual Notes. [actIII. 
 
 reader from confusing the word with the modern wrath. It is 
 rather to be identified with ruth, in the sense of ' sorrow,' 
 ' misfortune.' 
 
 79. moth. So Qi. Q2F1 moath, indicating the rhyme. 
 
 81. the. So Q2F1; Qi their. 
 
 10 1. The punctuation is that of Rowe. QqF^.g have Ba^^amo 
 Lord, love, 
 
 ACT III. 
 Scene I. 
 
 7. gossip Report. Q2 gossip report; QiF^ gossip's report. It 
 is unusual to find QiF^ agreeing against Q2', but here the con- 
 text plainly shows that Q2 has the correct reading. 
 
 9. as lying a. So Q2F1 ; Q^^as a lying. 
 
 27. knew. So Q2F1; Qi know. 
 
 40. and blood. So QiF^; Q2 and my blood. 
 
 45. any loss at. So Q2Fi ; Q^ at losse a sea, for a loss at sea. 
 
 60. his reason. So the Qq; F^ the reason. 
 
 72. humility? Revenge. So Rowe. QqFf humility, revengef 
 A similar misplacing of the question mark in QqFf occurs 1. 74. 
 
 93. would she were. So Q2F1; Q^ O would she were, followed 
 by Pope and many eighteenth-century editors. 
 
 95. news of themf Why, so. The punctuation is that of the 
 Cambridge editors. Q^ reads them, why so: Q2F1 them, why sof 
 Dr. Furness seems to approve of the question mark after why so. 
 But it seems as if the phrase was equivalent to our modern 
 " why, there it is," or " there are you." 
 
 96. what's spent. So the Qq; Ff how much is spent. Dr. 
 Furness believes thou in this line to be a misprint for then, which 
 appears in F2-4. A few editors print then. 
 
 100. on my. So Q^; F^Qg a my. 
 'but of. So Qi; F1Q2 but a. 
 104. The interrogation point after what is due to Theobald. 
 112. heref in Genoa? QqFf, with slight variations of spells 
 ing, read here in Genowa, Rowe substituted where for here, and 
 
Scene II.] Textual Notes. 175 
 
 inserted the interrogation marks, and his change has been uni- 
 versally adopted. Dr. Furness thinks that the old reading may 
 possibly be defended, but his explanation seems a trifle forced. 
 I have ventured to leave the old text, only inserting the inter- 
 rogation marks with Rowe. For my interpretation of the pas- 
 sage see note, p. 128. 
 
 1 1 3-1 1 4. in one night. So Q^; Q2F1 one night. Most editors 
 prefer the latter reading, but the former seems to me the clearer 
 and more rhythmical. 
 
 119. to. So Q2F1; Qi unto. 
 
 swear he. So Q2F1; Q^ swear that he. 
 
 122. of it. So Q2F1; Qi onH. 
 
 126. turquoise. Rowe's correction for Turkies, QqF^. 
 
 134. go Tubal. So Q2F1; Qi go go Tubal, which some editors 
 prefer. 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 II. then I am. So all the old texts except Q^ which reads 
 / am then. This reading has been followed by the Cambridge 
 editors on account of their preference for Q^. The weight of 
 authority, however, is on the other side, and the rhythm of the 
 Q2 is decidedly better. 
 
 17. if. So the Qq. F^ of. 
 
 19. Puts. So both Qq and F^. This ' Northern plural' is 
 so frequent in Shakespeare that there is no need of changing 
 it, as the Cambridge editors do in this instance, to the modern 
 form. It certainly is inconsistent in them to do so since in II. 
 I. 1 1, they retain the old plural hath against the authority of Q2F1. 
 
 23. draw it out. So Q2F^; Q^ draw out. 
 
 33. do. So the Qq. Fj doth. 
 
 61-62. Qi reads: 
 
 Live thou, I live with much more dismay 
 
 To view the fight, then thou that rnak'st the fray. 
 
 a: 
 
 Live thou, I live with much much more dismay, 
 I view the fight, then thou that rnak'st the fray. 
 
176 Textual Notes. [AcTin. 
 
 Fi follows Q2, except that like Q^ it omits the second much and 
 the comma after dismay. Omissions of repeated words are, as 
 Walker (v. 2, p. 141) has shown, far from infrequent. Nearly all 
 modern editors follow, with a change of punctuation similar to 
 that suggested by Rowe,* the text of Qj. Dr. Furness points 
 out that as the texts stand in the Qq, the reading of Q^ gives a 
 meaning which can scarcely be said of that of Qj. I fancy, how- 
 ever, that the text of Q2 is nearer to Shakespeare's manuscript, 
 which we may easily believe to have been deficient in the matter 
 of punctuation. The printer, or proof-reader, of Qi corrected, 
 not by changing the punctuation, as he should have done, but 
 by altering / to To. I take this passage to be another distinct 
 proof of the superiority of Q2 to Qi in what Furnivall calls 
 ' ' phrase-betternesses. ' ' 
 
 66. Reply, reply. In the old texts these words are printed 
 in the margin. They were omitted altogether by Rowe; Han- 
 mer, Dr. Johnson, and some later editors have taken them as a 
 stage direction. They are, however, unquestionably a part of the 
 song, as may easily be seen by reading it aloud without these 
 words. The Cambridge editors say that if we read with the Qq 
 eye in 1. 67 , the phrase Reply, reply is required by the rhyme. See 
 note below. 
 
 67. eyes. So the Ff. Qq have eye; but the rhyme scheme 
 of the first half of the song seems to call for a corresponding 
 arrangement in the second half. 
 
 71. I'll begin it. Printed in Roman letters in Qf and Ff, possi- 
 bly to indicate a solo or a spoken part, the rest of the song being 
 in italics. 
 
 81. vice. QqFi agree in the misprint voice. The correction 
 of F2 has been universally accepted. 
 
 82. m^ark. Omitted in Q^. 
 
 93. makes. So the Ff; Qq maketh. Pope s change to make 
 was due to his ignorance of Elizabethan grammar and should 
 
 * Rowe puts a semicolon after / live, which ia perhaps better than the Gam- 
 bridge colon. 
 
Scene 11.] Textual Notes. 177 
 
 not appear, as it usually does, in modern editions. For the 
 grammar see Abbott, Shakespearian Grammar, § 247. 
 
 97. guiled. So QqFj; F2-4 gtdlded; following which Rowe, 
 Pope, Hanmer, and Capell read gilded. Guiled is probably cor- 
 rect, since we have numerous examples in Shakespeare of a 
 passive participle formed directly from a noun. Thus he 
 childed as I fathered. Lear III. vi. 117. See Abbott, § 294. 
 
 99. Veiling an Indian; beauty, in a word. This is probably 
 the most difficult passage in the Merchant of Venice. Qq and F^ 
 read: 
 
 Vailing an Indian beauty; In a word, 
 
 If the old text is to be retained beauty must be used ironically 
 and the emphasis laid on Indian. Indian beauties, as has been 
 repeatedly remarked, are not up to the European standard. 
 But as the Cambridge editors (Clarendon Press Merchant of 
 Venice, p. 108) rightly say, this explanation is not tenable con- 
 sidering that beauteous has just been used, 1. 98, in its natural 
 sense. 
 
 Beginning with Hanmer various proposals have been made 
 to substitute a word for beauty on the hypothesis that this word 
 was due to the error of a printer who may have been misled 
 by the preceding beauteous. Some of these proposals are here 
 given: 
 
 dowdy. 
 
 Hanmer. 
 
 gipsy, 
 
 Walker. 
 
 favour, 
 
 Lettsom. 
 
 beldam. 
 
 Cambridge editors. 
 
 bosom, 
 
 Wright (of the Cambridge editors) 
 
 suttee. 
 
 Cowden Clarke. 
 
 body, 
 
 Bailey, 
 
 mummy, 
 
 Greet. 
 
 None of these suggestions, however, has satisfied anybody 
 but the man who proposed it. 
 
 There is, however, another method of correcting the passage. 
 We may let beauty stand and alter the punctuation. Thus 
 
178 Textual Notes. [Act ill. 
 
 Theobald conjectured in a letter to Warburton (Nichols' Illus- 
 trations, V. 2. p. 307-8) that we might read, 
 
 Veiling an Indian. — Beauty's, in a word, 
 
 He did not, however, venture to print this in his edition of 
 Shakespeare. A somewhat similar conjecture was made by 
 Forsyth in the Inverness Advertiser, 1867, viz., 
 
 Veiling an Indian: beauty, in a word's 
 
 J. P. Collier in his second edition introduced on the authority 
 of his "old corrector" the reading: — 
 
 Veiling an Indian: beauty, in a word, 
 
 It is probably the dubious origin of this conjecture that has 
 prevented its general acceptation. The fierce war which sprang 
 up about the genuineness of the manuscript notes in Collier's 
 copy of F2 hindered a fair discussion of their intrinsic merits, 
 and the final verdict that these notes were forgeries naturally 
 tended to throw them out of court altogether. But if we con- 
 sider the proposed change simply as an emendation suggested 
 by Collier we shall, I venture to believe, find it more satisfactory 
 than any other hitherto suggested. 
 
 In the first place, let us consider in what the change consists. 
 The semicolon after beauty in Qq Ff is altered to a colon — and 
 even this is not necessary — and placed after Indian. Further the 
 capital ' r oi In a word is changed (as in all rriodern editions) to 
 ' ^'.' Now the punctuation and capitalization of the old texts 
 are constantly and necessarily altered by modern editors. They 
 are, in all probability, not the work of Shakespeare, but represent 
 the judgment, or the caprice, of his printers. Thus in 11. 61-62 
 of this scene, a change very similar to that here proposed was 
 made by Rowe and has been generally accepted. See note 
 p. 176. 
 
 "What, then, is gained by this trifling alteration of the old text? 
 First of all we secure a passage presenting not the slightest diffi- 
 
Scene II.] Textual Notes. 179 
 
 culty. If the lines had originally read as Collier's emendation 
 leaves them, it is certain that not one of the numerous substi- 
 tutes for beauty would have been suggested. Commentators 
 would at most have made a note upon Indian, to the effect that 
 the hue of the dark-skinned Indian offended the Elizabethan 
 sense of beauty which held that only the fair (blonde) were fair* 
 (beautiful) , and that Indian in this passage was probably used 
 in the same sense as Ethiop in Lous' s Labor Lost, IV. iii. 118. 
 No doubt the line in Romeo and Juliet, I. v. 48, 
 
 Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear 
 
 would have been pointed out as a parallel passage. Certainly 
 no editor would have felt called on to obelize this passage as 
 one incapable of explanation or emendation, as the Cambridge 
 editors do in the Globe edition. 
 
 Secondly, it is worth noting that this clear and easy sense 
 is gained by expunging, not indeed from the text, but from the 
 clause, the superfluous word beauty. There is nothing denoted 
 in the phrase Indian beauty that is not implied in the word 
 Indian.-\ Brae's assertion (Notes and Queries, 1852, v. i. p. 
 483) that the word beauty is necessarily attached to Indian as 
 design ative of sex, may be answered by the statement that 
 Shakespeare in the instance from Love's Labor Lost cited above 
 uses Ethiop without any qualification for negress. Nor, 
 indeed, is it absolutely necessary that we suppose an Indian 
 woman to be indicated here. The idea in the poet's mind is 
 that a beauteous scarf may veil a dark repellent countenance, 
 male or female, it matters not which. It seems to me that in 
 this excision of a superfluous word, Collier's emendation is as 
 
 * Bassanio, the lover of the fair-haired Portia, would naturally entertain this 
 opinion. 
 
 t "Whenever Shakespeare makes mention of Indian, he almost invariably 
 does so in terms of disparagement. ' Savages and men of Ind ' are coupled 
 together in the Tempest (II. ii. 61) ; in Love' s Labor's Lost we read of ' a rude and 
 savage man of Ind' (IV. iii. 222); in Othello (V, ii. 347) ' base' is the epithet 
 attributed to him; in King Henry VII L the allusion is disgustingly contemptu- 
 ous." — Perring: Hard Knots in Shakespeare, p. 123. 
 
i8o Textual Notes. [agtIII. 
 
 superior to the old text as is the reading of Q2, would, to that 
 of Qi, would have, in I. iii. 66 of this play. See note, p. 
 164. 
 
 It is objected, however, by Brae and by the Cambridge editors, 
 that the sense of the following clause, in a word, the seeming 
 truth, etc., is spoiled by the intrusion of a new subject, beauty. 
 But beauty is, after all, not so much a new subject as a syno- 
 nym for the old subject ornament, i. e. ' outer adornment.' 
 In 1. 88 beauty certainly has this meaning. Schmidt * (Shake- 
 speare-Lexicon) gives ' ornament' as one of the meanings of 
 'beauty' and cites Hamlet, II. ii. 319 as an example. In 
 Sonnet CVI. 1. 3 beauty may perhaps be taken as equivalent to 
 'poetic ornament.' One of the definitions of 'beauty' in the 
 New English Dictionary is ' ornament,' ' grace,' ' charm.' In 
 short, I do not see that any new subject is introduced or that 
 any violence is done to the sense by shifting beauty to the be- 
 ginning of the final clause. 
 
 Finally, I would call attention to the fact, unnoticed so far 
 as I am aware by previous commentators, that the proposed 
 emendation brings about a distinct improvement of the 
 rhythm. In the old text the caesura falls after the seventh 
 syllable; in the emended line it falls after the fifth. Heaven 
 forbid that Shakespeare should be deprived of his liberty of 
 placing the caesura after the seventh syllable. But the fact is 
 that in his earlier plays this is a comparatively rare occurrence. 
 As Conrad Qahrbuch v. XXXI, pp. 345-347) has shown the 
 tendency to place the csesura in the latter part of the verse 
 developed gradually with Shakespeare. In the Merchant of 
 Venice the usual place for the caesura is after the fourth or fifth 
 syllable, t 
 
 * It may be noted in passing that Schmidt though defining 'beauty* in the 
 line under discussion as ' a beautiful person' puts a question mark after the 
 passage to denote his dissatisfaction with the old text. 
 
 t 261 lines in this play out of 1,000 examined by Conrad have the caesura 
 after the fourth syllable, 259 after the fifth, 182 after the sixth, and only 134 
 after the seventh. 
 
Scene II.] Textual Notes. i8l 
 
 In this speech of Bassanio's there have been already four, or 
 possibly five, instances (11. 77, 81, 88, 94, and perhaps 98) in 
 which the caesura falls after the seventh syllable. This is 
 already somewhat in excess of the normal number, — an excess 
 which would be considerably heightened if in this line, too, the 
 caesura occurred in that position. 
 
 Delicate points of rhythm are not, of course, to be settled by a 
 mere tabulation of percentages. I have quoted Conrad only to 
 show that, other things being equal, we might expect the caesura 
 to fall after Indian rather than after beauty. But I would fur- 
 ther call attention to the fact that the old text gives us a very 
 weak and unemphatic second half -line, i. e. the phrase in a word. 
 Compare this for a moment with the strong second half-lines of 
 11. 77, 81, 88 and 94, and it appears a lame and impotent conclu- 
 sion. The sudden recoil of the caesura from its position after the 
 seventh syllable in 1. 99 to its place after the fourth in 1. 100 in 
 the old text does not appear in the emended version ; nor is such 
 a sudden recoil to be noted in the other passages in this speech 
 where a caesura occurs after the seventh syllable. I believe if 
 the two versions be read aloud, every one familiar with Shake- 
 speare's rhythmical effects and not unalterably prejudiced in 
 favor of the old text will be inclined to accept the correction on 
 rhythmical grounds alone. 
 
 10 1. Therefore thou. So Q^; Q2Pi, Therefore then thou. 
 
 102. food. So Q2F1; Qi, foole. 
 
 103. pale. It has been frequently proposed to change this 
 word to stale. In Troilus and Cressida, II. ii. 79 the Qq read 
 pale, which F^ corrects to stale. This, however, is hardly a 
 sufficient reason for altering the text here, where the meaning 
 is perfectly plain. 
 
 106. plainness. I make bold to receive into the text of this 
 line the conjecture of Warburton which was first printed by 
 Theobald and which has received the approbation of Dr. Fur- 
 ness. It is plain, I think, that Bassanio would not speak of 
 both silver (1. 103) and lead (1. 106) as pale. And although 
 pale is a common epithet of lead, it is an unsuitable epithet is 
 
i82 Textual Notes. [ActIII. 
 
 this case, since it is not in keeping with the rest of the clause. 
 Paleness is a sign of fear; but the lead is spoken of as threat- 
 ening. The only feeling that paleness can move would be com- 
 passion; the lead on the other hand persuades Bassanio by 
 something more effective than eloquence. This something is 
 well expressed in the word plainness, i. e. ' frankness,' ' openness.' 
 The inscription on the leaden casket is certainly frank and un- 
 promising ; it might almost be called threatening. Yet this very 
 frankness moves Bassanio more than the flattering eloquence of 
 the inscriptions on the other caskets. We feel the need of an 
 antithesis between eloquence and that quality of lead which 
 moves Bassanio, and plainness supplies this, while paleness cer- 
 tainly does not. The statement of Farmer that Shakespeare had 
 already made an antithesis between paleness and eloquence in 
 Midsummer Night's Dream, (V. i. 93-104), is not correct, as 
 may be seen by a reference to the passage. The antithesis there 
 is between the "modesty of fearful duty" and the "rattling 
 tongue of saucy eloquence." 
 
 112. rain. So Q2 F^; Q^ range. Qqs-i have reine, which is 
 preferred by some editors, among them Dr. Furness. The 
 Cambridge editors have wavered in their opinion. In the Cam- 
 bridge edition of 1863 they print rein; in the Clarendon Press 
 edition (1874) they print rain, but say (p. 108) that rein rests on 
 higher authority ; in the new Cambridge edition they print rain. 
 Meanwhile rein stands in their Globe edition. 
 
 The phrase rain in nieasure may very well be explained as 
 equivalent to pour down in moderation. Cf. /. King Henry IV ., 
 V. i. 48 — " It rain'd down fortune showering on your head." 
 The reine of the later Qq is probably meant for raine, since, as 
 Dr. Johnson noted, these words were not in those times distin- 
 guished by regular orthography. And the phrase in measure, 
 which follows so appropriately after rain, becomes very awkward 
 after the proposed correction. 
 
 117. whether. So the Ff; the Qq have whither. 
 
 122. f entrap. F^; Q^ fintrap, showing the pronunciation; 
 Q2 tyntrap. 
 
Scene XL] Textual Notes. 183 
 
 145. peals. So Q2 Fji Q^ pearles. 
 
 149. see me, lord. So the Qq; F^ You see my lord. 
 
 154. more rich; In Qq Ff these words are printed at the begin- 
 ning of the next Hne. This gives an extremely awkward rhythm. 
 Malone, followed by many modern editors, among them the 
 Cambridge editors, prints m.ore rich as a separate line. There is. 
 however, no necessity for this, as it seems plain that the words 
 have simply been transferred in the old copies from the end of 
 one line to the beginning of another. By restoring them to the 
 end of 1. 154 we get an Alexandrine such as is not uncommon in 
 this play. 
 
 159. sum of — something. This is a much-disputed passage. 
 The Qq read sum (Q^ sum.me, Q2 sume) of something; the Ff sum 
 of nothing. Editors are about equally divided as to which 
 reading is to be preferred. In the Clarendon Press, the Cam- 
 bridge editors introduce a dash * between of and so^nething. Dr. 
 Furness declares that this dash should precede either of the read- 
 ings; and it certainly adds to the effectiveness of the speech. 
 On the whole, I prefer the Qq reading, since it seems absurd to 
 use the phrase term in gross, i. e. ' speak of as a whole,' ' sum up,' 
 after nothing. 
 
 163. Happiest of all is that. So all the old texts and most 
 modern editors. Collier on the authority of his " old cor- 
 rector" changes is to in, an emendation which has received the 
 approval of Dr. Furness. But the passage makes good sense 
 as it stands (See note, p. 134), and it hardly seems worth while 
 to make any alteration. At the same time I freely confess 
 that in seems to me a better reading and one which I should 
 unhesitatingly follow if I had found it in either of the Qq or 
 in Fi. 
 
 185. Bassanio's dead. So Q2 F^; in Q^ the careful printer has 
 expanded it into Bassanio is dead. This reading, if Bassanio 
 be pronounced in full, would give us an Alexandrine. Such a line 
 would not be altogether out of place here as closing the dialogue 
 
 ♦Apparently they repented of this dash, for it does not appear in the Cam- 
 bridge ed. of 1 89 1, 
 
184 Textual Notes. [ActIII. 
 
 between the lovers; but it is probable that the contracted form, 
 which was certainly that employed upon the stage, is the correct 
 reading. 
 
 199. The punctuation in the text is that of the Clarendon 
 Press edition. 
 
 QqFi read 
 
 You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission. 
 
 The change in the text is due to Theobald, who, however, 
 placed a colon after / loved. It has seemed better simply to 
 shift the comma from the end of the line and set it after / loved. 
 In the Cambridge edition the editors abandon the reading given 
 in the Clarendon Press and read 
 
 You loved, I loved for intermission. 
 
 This punctuation renders the passage rather difficult of expla- 
 nation, since it leaves pertains in the following line without a 
 subject, unless the phrase no more be so construed. Professor 
 Gummere, who follows the Cambridge punctuation, explains the 
 passage as follows: " You loved: I loved for pastime", — taking 
 for in its frequent sense of ' for fear of,' ' to avert'; and renders 
 1. 200: "T owe my wife as much to you as to my own efforts." 
 
 A comparison of this awkward explanation with the sim- 
 plicity of the passage as it runs according to the punctuation in 
 the text should, I think, be sufficient to show that Theobald's 
 punctuation and interpretation are right. 
 
 It might further be noted that if intermission is taken with / 
 loved, the result is a contrast between Bassanio and Gratiano 
 and an almost contemptuous reference to Nerissa, which can 
 hardly have been intended by Shakespeare. " You loved," 
 Gratiano says, " I loved by way of passing the time." This 
 was not the way in which Bassanio loved, and it can hardly be 
 supposed that even Gratiano would refer to his earnest cotirt^ 
 ship (11. 203-204) as a mere pastime. 
 
Scene II.] Textual Notes. 185 
 
 201. Caskets. So Q^ Ff ; Qj, casket. 
 
 209. it is, so. So the Qq; Ff it is so, so. 
 
 220. Salerio. So all the old texts. Many modern editors 
 believing that it is a misprint either for Salerino or Salanio have 
 altered it to one of these names, mainly on the ground that 
 Shakespeare would be violating dramatic propriety by intro- 
 ducing a new character so late in the play. Dr. Furness agrees 
 with this and holds that Salerio is most likely a misprint for 
 Salanio. But it was not at all unusual for Shakespeare to 
 introduce a new character, particularly one of so little import- 
 ance, late in the play. Thus in Macbeth, Seyton appears for 
 the first time in Act V. scene ii; in Othello, Lodovico appears 
 for the first time in Act IV. scene i., and Gratiano in Act V. 
 scene i. It is quite true, as Dr. Furness points out, that the 
 number of actors in Shakespeare's company was very small, 
 but can such a scholar have forgotten that " one man in his 
 time plays many parts." I agree with the Cambridge editors 
 in retaining Salerio here and placing his name among the dramatis 
 personae. 
 
 233. The stage direction was supplied by Theobald. 
 
 237. The stage direction, omitted in the Cambridge edition, 
 is found in all the old texts. 
 
 Qi He opens ^ 
 
 Q2 open y the letter. 
 
 Fi Opens ) 
 
 238. yon. So Qi; Q2 Ft yond. 
 
 255-6. The punctuation of these lines in the text follows that 
 of Fj with the exception of substituting a dash for the old- 
 fashioned colon after veins. The punctuation of the Cambridge 
 editors by placing a comma after you seems to sever the object- 
 clause from its verb, and the substitution of a semicolon for a 
 comma after gentleman is hardly necessary. 
 
 268, Hath. So all the old texts. Rowe altered to Have, in 
 which he has been followed by most modern editors, 
 
 316. The stage direction was inserted by Rowe, Q^ ^ives all 
 to 1. 324 inclusive to Portiat 
 
i86 Textual Notes. , ActIIL] 
 
 Q2F1 omit Bassanio before the letter but show by printing 
 Por. before hne 324 that the omission was unintentional. 
 
 321. might hut see. So the Qq; Ff omit hut. 
 
 death. So Q^ ; Q2 Fj have a colon after death. The sug- 
 gestion of C. Kemble that a period should be set after / and a 
 new sentence begun with if (1. 320) is that of an actor rather 
 than of a true critic of the text. 
 
 328. nor. So Q2 Fii Qi has no which is received by many 
 editors. It is easier to see how a letter could be dropped from 
 nor under the influence of no in the preceding line than how the 
 nor of Q2 should have appeared in the text unless by design. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 2. lent. So the Qq; Ff have lends, which is preferred by 
 Knight, Hallowell, Rolfe and others; but the combined authority 
 of the Qq outweighs that of F^. 
 
 26-29. There has been much dispute over the meaning of this 
 passage. Theobald proposed to set a comma after law (1. 26), 
 a full stop after Venice (I.28) and to read 'Twill for Will (I.29). 
 In this he has been foUowedbyCapell, Knight, Staunton and 
 others. The passage, then, would mean : "The Duke cannot deny 
 the course of law by reason of the commodious privileges which 
 strangers have in Venice. If it (i. e. the course of law) be 
 denied, it (i. e. the denial) will impeach the justice of the state." 
 As I believe the old text to be capable of a perfectly clear mean- 
 ing (see note. p. 137), I have followed Malone and the Cam- 
 bridge editors in retaining the old punctuation, except in sub- 
 stituting a semicolon for the old comma after state. 
 
 29. the state. So all old texts except Q^ which has his state. 
 The Cambridge editors are almost alone in following Q^. 
 
 Scene IV. 
 
 21. cruelty. S0Q2F1; Qt mz5^r;v, which the Cambridge editors 
 adopt. Dr. Furness prefers misery. "Is it not too soon," he 
 ^sks, " for Portia to know the full depth of Shylock's ' cruelty'? 
 
Scene IV.] Textual Notes. 187 
 
 The utter bankruptcy of a Royal Merchant is misery enough." 
 But Portia had heard Jessica say that Shylock had sworn to 
 Tubal and to Chus that he would sooner have Antonio's flesh 
 than. fifty times the value of the bond. This, I think, might 
 well convince Portia of Shylock' s hellish cruelty. 
 
 23. hear other things. This is Theobald's emendation, gen- 
 erally adopted since his time, for the heere other things of the 
 old texts, which make other things the object of commit in 1. 24. 
 
 32. we will. So all the old texts but Q^, which has will we. 
 Most modern editors prefer the former reading; but the Cam- 
 bridge editors and Rolfe follow Q^. 
 
 40. So fare you well. So all the old texts but Q^ which has 
 And so fare well. Most modern editors prefer the reading in the 
 text, but the Cambridge editors follow Q^. 
 
 44. fare you well. So Q2 Fj; Q^ farewell. 
 
 46. honest-true. The hyphen was inserted by Dyce, 
 
 49. Padua. Theobald's emendation for Mantua which 
 appears in all the old texts, but which cannot be right. Cf. IV. 
 i, 109, 119. 
 
 53. traject. Rowe's emendation for the tranect of the old 
 texts. I see no reason for retaining tranect, a word which 
 does not occur in English or any other language, when it is 
 so easy to suppose that the printers simply made a mistake 
 in an unfamiliar word. Traject is a word used by Coryat as 
 an English form of the Italian traghetto, the word still used in 
 Venice for a common, or public, ferry. Yet the Cambridge 
 editors and many others print tranect. 
 
 63. Accoutred. So all the old texts but Q^, which reads 
 appareld. Most editors prefer accoutred, but Dr. Furness puts 
 in a plea for the Qj reading on the ground that if Portia had in 
 mind the Doctor's cap and gown which Bellario was to send her, 
 she would hardly speak of them as accoutrements. It seems 
 to me, however, that we have here a trace of Shakespeare's 
 own revising hand. He first wrote appareld, and then on 
 revising the play noted that this word did not suit the follow- 
 ing allusion to the dagger and the thousand raw tricks which 
 
1 88 Textual Notes. [actiii. 
 
 Portia was about to assume, and so he altered it to the more 
 appropriate accoutred. 
 
 Scene V. 
 
 3. you. So Q2 Fj ; Q^ ye, which the Cambridge editors follow. 
 Strictly speaking, ye cannot be used as an objective, but the 
 old distinction between ye and you was neglected by Shake- 
 speare, and, at any rate, we need not look for accurate gram- 
 matical distinctions in the talk of Launcelot Nevertheless I 
 prefer to follow the better authority of Qg. 
 
 5. he of. So the F^; both Qq have he a, which is, no doubt, 
 Launcelot' s pronunciation of of. 
 
 35. there's. So both Qq; F^ there is. 
 
 75. cheer' st. So F^ following Q2 cherst. Q^ has far^st-, which 
 was adopted by all eighteenth century editors, from Pope to 
 Johnson. Furnivall (Forewords p. v.) says that here Q2 " surely 
 recovers a Shakspere word." Dr. Furness, on the other hand, 
 regards cherst with suspicion as a probable misprint for farst. 
 This is the only instance in Shakespeare of cheer used intransi- 
 tively, but phrases quoted in the New English Dictionary show 
 that this use was common in his day. Thus Greene writes, 
 "How cheer you, gentleman"; and Drayton, " Aske him how 
 he cheeres." 
 
 82-83. These two lines vary in all the old texts and have 
 given the commentators much trouble 
 
 Qi reads 
 
 And if on earth he do not meane it, then 
 In reason, etc. 
 
 
 And if on earth he do not meane it, it 
 in reason, etc. 
 
 And if on earth he do not meane it, it 
 Is reason 
 
 The Cambridge editors say: (Clarendon Press, p. 115) "There 
 is some corruption in this passage for which no satisfactory 
 
Scene I.] Textual Notes. 189 
 
 emendation has been proposed"; and in the Globe edition 
 they obeUze the passage. The difficulty lies in the word mean, 
 for which various explanations have been proposed. Of these 
 Dr. Furness declares that of Capell emphatically the true inter- 
 pretation: mean = ' observe the mean,' ' enjoy blessings mod- 
 erately.' To this, however, it may be objected that while 
 such an interpretation is possible, it is not in keeping with the 
 context. Bassanio enjoys in his wife the blessings of heaven 
 on earth; would Dr. Furness interpret the rest of the passage, 
 " and if he do not enjoy these blessings with moderation he 
 should never come to heaven ' ' ? Surely this is to identify the 
 Golden Mean of Greek philosophy with the Golden Rule of the 
 Gospel as a means of salvation. A second interpretation of 
 mean, adopted by Rolfe, makes it equivalent to intend; but 
 whsn we ask intend what? we are referred back as far as 1. 65 
 to the phrase live an upright life. This is very awkward. 
 
 Mr. Orson (Temple edition, p. 129) suggests that mean = 
 ' aim at.' In this case it would refer to heaven in the preceding 
 line. The line cited by him from Herbert's Church Porch 
 
 Scorns his first bed of dirt and means the sky 
 
 is so close a parallel that I believe we may accept this as a 
 satisfactory solution. See note, p. 141. 
 
 Various alterations of this passage have been proposed, of 
 which that of Pope, merit it, for tnean it, is the most plausible, 
 and has been accepted by Theobald, Johnson, and others. 
 
 94. howsoever. So Q^; Q2 how so mere, F^ how som ere. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. 
 
 22. exacts. So the Qq; Ff exact' st. I much prefer to believe 
 that Shakespeare was guilty of the grammatical inaccuracy of 
 the Qq text, than that he perpetrated such a jaw-breaking 
 
190 
 
 Textual Notes. [Act iv. 
 
 word as the Ff give us. See Abbott (§ 340) for a number of 
 instances where, for the sake of euphony, Shakespeare changes 
 the termination est into 5. 
 
 25. human. Q^ Ff humane; Q, humaine. The modern spell- 
 ing, human, is unknown to Shakespeare. 
 
 31. -fiint. So Qi; Q2 F^ -flints. 
 
 36. Sabbath. So Qi Ff ; Q2 Sabaoth. The latter is not un- 
 likely to have been Shakespeare's word, as Sabbath and Sabaoth 
 were confused as late as Dr. Johnson's day. The phrase ' Lord 
 God of Sabaoth' which occurs in the Te Deum probably gave 
 rise to this confusion. 
 
 50-51. This is another of the much-debated passages in the 
 text. The reading of the old texts, with one sHght variation in 
 spelling, is identical: 
 
 Cannot containe their urine for affection. 
 
 Masters (Q2 Maisters) of passion swayes it to the moode 
 
 The punctuation adopted in the text is that suggested by 
 Thirlby in a letter to Theobald. Thirlby thought, however, 
 that Maisters might be a mistake for mistress, which is some- 
 times spelled maistres. Capell printed mistress and his altera- 
 tion has been adopted by the Cambridge editors. 
 
 The old text is undoubtedly corrupt, but the change neces- 
 sary to correct it is so slight that we need not fear to make it. 
 The faulty punctuation of the old editions has already been 
 commented on, and Walker (v. i, p. 233 seq.) has pointed out 
 so many instances of an interpolated 5 that I think we may 
 safely change masters to master. On the other hand, I see no 
 reason whatever to adopt Capell's mistress; the instances cited 
 by Dr. Abbott (p. 481, N. 10) in regard to the confusion of 
 masters and mistress prove nothing. 
 
 56. a woolen hag-pipe. So all the old texts, and since 
 woolen probably refers to the covering of the bag, there is 
 no reason why it should not stand. But numerous alterations 
 have been made, such as wooden, wauling, swollen, bollen, etc 
 
Scene I.] Textual Notes. 191 
 
 Even the Cambridge editors obelize the passage in the Globe 
 edition. 
 
 58. The punctuation of the text is that of Q^; Q2.F1 have no 
 punctuation mark within the line. Dr. Furness prefers the 
 punctuation of F4, viz. the comma after himself instead of after 
 offend; and this seems to help the flow of the line. But the 
 antithesis is more clearly brought out by the old punctua- 
 tion. 
 
 65. answer. So Q^ Ff ; Q2 answers, which was at first adopted 
 by the Cambridge and still appears in the Globe edition, although 
 not in the Cambridge edition of 1891. The Q2 reading gives 
 another instance of the interpolated 5. 
 
 66. things. So Qq F^; F2-4 thing, which was followed by 
 most eighteenth century editors. 
 
 73. you may. So Qj ; Q2 begins the line with well; Ff have Or 
 even instead of you may. 
 
 74. why he hath m.ade. So Qj; Q2 F^ omit. But certain copies 
 of Q2 in the British Museum have the same reading as Q^. 
 
 bleat. So F^; Qq bleake. This is probably the worst 
 passage in Q2 but Dr. Furnivall has shown that it was corrected 
 in going through the press and that some copies of this edition 
 give the lines correctly. 
 
 75. mountain pines. So F^; Qq mountain of pines. 
 
 *j*j, fretten. So the Qq; Ff fretted, ^hic^i many editors prefer. 
 Fretten was probably Shakespeare's word. 
 
 79, what's harder. So the Qq; Ff what harder. 
 
 81. moe. So the Qq; Ff more. Here as in 1. 77 the older 
 form is probably Shakespeare's word. 
 
 no. messenger. So the Qq; Ff messengers. 
 
 128. inexorable. Qq Ffj.j inexecrable; Ffg.^ inexorable. Most 
 editors follow the reading of the later folios. The Cambridge 
 editors, Knight, and White, retain inexecrable. Dr. Murray has 
 pointed out {N. E. D., sub ' inexecrable') that in the only other 
 place in which inexecrable occurs in English (Constable, Diana, 
 Sonnet I of Decade VIII) we have a palpable misprint for 
 inexorable. The sonnet i§ ^n encouragement to a lover to per^ 
 
192 Textual Notes. [ActIV. 
 
 isevere in spite of the- obstinacy of his lady, since perseverance 
 will lead to success; 
 
 Though she protests the faithfullest severity 
 Inexecrable beauty is inflicting; 
 Kindness, in time, will pity your sincerity. 
 
 It is worth noting also that these sonnets of Constable's were 
 printed in 1594 by James Roberts. Possibly the same com- 
 positor who made the mistake in 1594 repeated it in 1600. It 
 is time, I think, that the impossible word inexecrable should be 
 withdrawn from the text of Shakespeare. 
 
 136. lay St. The Qq Ff read layest, which was of course con- 
 tracted in pronunciation. 
 
 142. cureless. So the Qq; Ff endless. All modern editors 
 follow the Qq; but Dr. Furness is by no means sure that it is 
 the better word. It seems to me that the phrase repair thy 
 wit demands cureless, i. e. ' incurable,' rather than endless. 
 
 144. to. So the Qq; Ff in. Only Rowe and Pope follow 
 the Ff. 
 
 169. Came. So the Ff ; Qq Come, which the Cambridge edi- 
 tors adopt, although admitting (Clarendon Press, p. 118) that 
 the Ff are perhaps right. Portia's answer,"/ did, shows that the 
 question must have been in the past tense. Probably come in 
 the preceding line was responsible for the mistake in the Qq. 
 
 180. do you not? So Q2 F^; Q^ do ye not? 
 
 204. court. So the Qq; Ff course. 
 
 220. precedent. So the Qq; Ff president, an alternative 
 spelling of the word. 
 
 224. / do. So the Qq; Ff do I. 
 
 255-256. These two lines from It is to the flesh are printed as 
 one in the old texts. Capell made the change, which has been 
 followed by nearly all modern editors Dr. Furness, however, 
 characterizes it as peculiarly unhappy and would prefer to print 
 It is so as one line, supplying the defect in the metre by a pause. 
 In this case, however, the same device must be adopted after I 
 have them ready, which by Dr. Furness's arrangement would alsp 
 
Scene I.] Textual Notes. 193 
 
 become an imperfect line. The truth is that the rhythm of 
 this passage is conversational rather than strictly metrical. 
 
 258. do. So the Qq; Ff should, which Knight and most of 
 the eighteenth century editors prefer. 
 
 259. Is it so nominated in the bondf So the Qq; Ffj.g It is 
 not nofninated in the bond? Dr. Furness says he cannot decide 
 whether it is better to read this, despite the interrogation mark, 
 as an assertion with the Ff or as a question with the Qq. But 
 surely, even if the interrogation mark of the early folios did not 
 point to a simple printer's transposition of the first two words 
 of the sentence rather than to an assertion, the effect of an inter- 
 rogative sentence, addressed by Shylock to Portia with a hypo- 
 critical pretence of desiring to know the truth, is much more 
 impressive than that of an affirmation. The affirmation comes 
 below (1. 262) , after Shylock has finished his pretence of examin- 
 ing the bond. 
 
 263. You, Merchant. So the Qq; Ff Come Merchant, which 
 most editors adopt as the smoother reading. The reading of the 
 Qq, however, is a little more impressive and should, I think, be 
 retained. 
 
 272. There have been many efforts to mend the supposed 
 defective metre of this line. Misery is certainly not to be 
 accented on the second syllable, as the Cambridge editors 
 (Clarendon Press, p. 121) suggest. The example they cite 
 there to show that misery may be so pronounced. 
 
 And buss thee as thy wife. Misery's love 
 
 (K. J., III. iv. 35) 
 
 shows nothing of the sort, but only presents a trochee instead 
 of an iamb after the ceesura, a not unusual inversion. Professor 
 Gummere suggests that if we dwell (with the so-called hovering 
 accent) on the words of such misery we can bring the line within 
 bounds. This seems better than to insert an a before misery 
 as is done by Ff2-4, an evident correction of the compositor 
 metris causa. 
 
 277. love. So all the old texts. Collier suggested lover 
 
194 Textual Notes. [ActIV. 
 
 on the ground that love in the sense of lover is uncommon 
 with Shakespeare. But compare Venus and Adonis, 1. 867. 
 
 And yet she hears no tidings of her love. 
 
 Cf. also M. of v., II. vi. 28 and V. i. 22 and 170. To read lover 
 and thus give the line a feminine ending would, I think, dis- 
 tinctly impair the force of the passage. 
 
 278. Repent not you. So the Ff ; Qq Repent out you, which 
 the Cambridge editors prefer on the ground that Antonio would 
 surely wish his friend to regret his loss. But they forget that 
 Shakespeare himself wrote to his friend: 
 
 No longer mourn for me when I am dead 
 Than you shall hear the sullen surly bell 
 Give warning to the world that I am fled 
 From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell. 
 
 The sentiment of the whole sonnet (LXXI) is exactly that of 
 Antonio in this passage, And the repetition of the phrase repent 
 not in two successive lines is very much in Shakespeare's earlier 
 manner. Most editors follow the Ff. 
 
 281. instantly. So all the old texts but Q^, which reads 
 presently. The Cambridge editors are almost alone in printing 
 the reading of Qj. 
 
 286. ay, sacrifice. Pope's correction for the / sacrifice of the 
 old texts. 
 
 290. who. So the Qq; Ff whom. 
 
 308. Take then. So the Qq; Ff Then take. 
 
 327. he it hut. So the Qq; Ff he it, which Dr. Furness prefers 
 on rhythmical grounds, objecting to the ' cacophony ' of he 't hut. 
 Most editors follow the Qq. 
 
 334. thee. So the Ff , followed by all editors except Capell 
 and the Cambridge editors, who prefer the Qq you. Thee 
 seems much more emphatic. Compare T. N., III. i. 48-9, 
 "If thou thou'st him some thrice it shall not be amiss," or Coke 
 to Raleigh, " I thou thee, thou traitor." For this insulting 
 
Scene I.] Textual Notes. 195 
 
 use of thou see Abbott §233. It is possible, however, that thee 
 is an actor's alteration which crept into F^. 
 
 339. He shall. So Q2 F^; Q^ and shall. 
 
 344. so taken. So Qq; F^ taken so. 
 
 346. longer question. So Q2 Ff; Q^ longer heere in question. 
 Dr. Furness says that except for the metre the Q^ reading seems 
 preferable, and if question be pronounced as a trisyllable and 
 Tarry, Jew be regarded as an inter jectional line the metre is 
 smooth enough. I am inclined to think that this was the way 
 in which Shakespeare first wrote the line, and then, seeing that 
 the pause, necessary after the short line Tarry, Jew, spoiled the 
 effect, for surely there should be no long pause after these words, 
 he corrected it by dropping out the unnecessary heere in. I pre- 
 fer a semicolon after Jew, as Capell has it, to the colon of the 
 Cambridge editors. The old texts have only a comma here. 
 
 349. an. So Q2 Ff ; Qj any. 
 
 360. against. So Q2 Ff ; Qi gainst, which compels us to read 
 contrivM. As Shakespeare gradually ceased to use the accented 
 termination for the past participle, it looks as if Qi here repre- 
 sented his first thought and Q2 his correction. 
 
 368. spirits. So Q^, followed by the Cambridge editors. 
 Most editors prefer the spirit of Q2 Ff , which seems to me a little 
 awkward, whereas difference of our spirits is exactly paralleled 
 by difference of old Shylock and Bassanio (II. v. 2). 
 
 398. In Q2 this speech is carelessly assigned to Shylock. 
 shalt thou. So the Qq; Ff thou shalt. 
 
 400. not the font. So Q^; Q2 F^ not to the font. 
 
 401. hoine with me. So the Qq; Ff with me home. 
 
 402. do desire. So Q2 F^; Q^ desire. 
 423. not as a fee. So Qj Q, F^ not as fee. 
 
 434. more depends on this than on the value. So Q2 F^; Q^ 
 more than this depends upon the value, — " a downright composi- 
 tor's sophistication" (Furness). 
 
 435. will I. So Q2 Fi; Qi / will. 
 
 445. And. So all the old texts. Cambridge editors follow 
 Capell's modernization, an. 
 
196 Textual Notes. [ActV. 
 
 446. this. So Q2 F^; Qi the, which the Cambridge editors 
 prefer. 
 
 451. 'gainst. So Qq; F^ against, which spoils the metre, 
 commandment being pronounced as four syllables. 
 
 Scene II. 
 9. His ring. So Q2 Fii Qi this, which some editors prefer. 
 
 ACT V. 
 Scene I. 
 
 4. Troilus . . . Trojan. All the old texts have Troylus; 
 Qi has Troyan; Q2 F^ Troian. The Cambridge editors print 
 Troilus and Troyan, but it seems better to be consistent and to 
 use the modern forms of both the names. 
 
 6. Cressid; Q2 F^ Cressed; Q^ Cressada. 
 
 II. wild sea hanks. Most editions wrongly place a hyphen 
 between sea and hanks. 
 
 32. wedlock. So Q2 Ff, Q^ wedlockes. 
 
 41-42. Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo. Most modern 
 editions print Master Lorenzo & Mistress Lorenzo, on the 
 authority of F3. But, as the Cambridge editors have shown 
 (Clarendon Press, p. 126), Launcelot is addressing Lorenzo only, 
 since in 1. 46 he says tell him, not tell them. The mistake 
 is due to a curious process of corruption in the texts, Q^ has 
 M. Lorenzo, M. Lorenzo; Q2 F^ M. Lorenzo & M. Lorenzo, 
 where the & may have been meant for an interrogation mark. 
 In F2 & was printed as and and followed by a misprint, M. 
 Lorenza. In Fg we have the full-blown error M. Lorenzo & 
 Mrs. Lorenza. 
 
 49. Sweet soul. In Qq F^ these words are improperly attributed 
 to Launcelot. Rowe was the first to assign them to Lorenzo, 
 substituting, however, the love of Ff2-4 for soul. 
 
 51. Stephana. So Q^; Q2 F^ Stephen. 
 
Scene I.] Textual Notes. 197 
 
 59. patens. There has been much discussion over this word. 
 Qi has patients, an obvious misprint; Qj F^ pattens; Ff2-4 pat- 
 terns. This last reading was followed by the early editors, and 
 has been defended by Hunter and Collier on the ground that it 
 is more natural for a floor to be inlaid with a pattern of golden 
 stars than with the golden plates used in the administration of 
 the Eucharist. On the other hand, the use of pattern in this 
 sense of decorative design is unknown to Shakespeare, although 
 occasionally his use of the word as in H . V ., II. iv. 6i approaches 
 the modern meaning. Two quotations from Sylvester's popu- 
 lar translation of Du Bartas's La Semaine (entered in the 
 Stationers' Registers 1591) possibly give the source whence 
 Shakespeare drew this figure: 
 
 Th' Almightie's finger fixed many a milli®n 
 Of golden Scutchions in that rich Pavillion. 
 
 (Fourth Day of the First Week, 11. 308-9) 
 and 
 
 That sumptuous canopy, 
 The which th'unniggard hand of Majesty, 
 Poudred so thick with Shields so shining cleer 
 
 (Ibid., 11. 374-376.) 
 
 I can see no reason why the Cambridge editors should retain in 
 their text the now obsolete spelling patines, first suggested by 
 Malone for the Qj Fj pattens. Paten is now universally recog- 
 nized as the best spelling. 
 
 65. it in. So Q2; Qi F^ in it. Dr. Furness, taking it as refer- 
 ring to the soul, prefers the Q^ Fi reading, but the Q2 text seems 
 more metrical, since it throws the last stress of the line upon 
 in, which is emphatic as being the separable part of the com- 
 pound verb close-in. 
 
 75. hut hear perchance; So Q2 Fi; Q^ perchance but heare. 
 There is to my ear little to choose between the readings. The 
 Cambridge editors, who usually follow Q^, here print from Qj, 
 showing that they consider its reading decidedly preferable. 
 
198 
 
 Textual Notes. [Act v. 
 
 87. Erebus. So Pg. Qqi-2 have the curious misprint Tere- 
 bus, which Qqs-^ corrupt still further into Tenebrts. F^ has 
 Erobus. 
 
 109. hof This is Malone's emendation for the how of all the 
 old texts. It has been almost universally received. How 
 was a common form of Ho, or Hoa, in Shakespeare's day. 
 
 114. husbands' welfare. So Q2 F^; Qi husband health, prob- 
 ably a misprint for husband's health, which I take to be the 
 phrase Shakespeare first wrote. The Cambridge and other edi- 
 tors who have accepted Pope's suggestion, husbands' healths, 
 might have remembered that a poet with so fine an ear as 
 Shakespeare would more likely, in Tennyson's phrase, "kick 
 the geese out of a line" than multiply their hissing. I take 
 welfare to be Shakespeare's own correction. 
 
 153. your hour. So the Qq; Ff the hour, which Dr. Fumess 
 rather prefers. Most editors follow the Qq. 
 
 157. no, God's my pidge. So the Qq. Fj, probably on 
 account of the statute against profanity on the stage, substi- 
 tuted but well I know. Rolfe alone among modern editors 
 accepts this tame emendation. 
 
 159. and. So the old texts. Pope changed it to an. So 
 in 1. 176 below Theobald first printed an for and. 
 
 209. my honor. So the Qq; F^ mine honor. 
 
 213. displeased away; So Q2 F^; Q^ away displeased. 
 
 214. had held up. So Qj F^; Q^ did uphold, a reading which 
 the Cambridge editors almost alone of nineteenth century 
 editors adopt. The pluperfect tense of Q2 F^ seems better than 
 the past of Q^. 
 
 220. Eor. So the Qq; Ff and, which is much weaker. 
 
 249. his wealth. So the Qq; Ff thy wealth. All editors since 
 Rowe follow the Qq. 
 
 250. husband's. Here as above in 1. 114 Qy omits '5. 
 
 272. even but. So the Qq; Ff but ev'n. Most editors prefer 
 the Qq reading. 
 
Appendix A. 
 
 THE METRE. 
 
 It is hardly worth while for the young student of Shakespeare 
 to attempt to enter deeply into the much discussed and still 
 unsettled details of his metrical effects, much less into the 
 question of the relation of these to the chronological order of 
 his plays. At the same time, in order to enjoy to the full the 
 poetry of such a play as the Merchant of Venice, one should be 
 able to read it aloud ; and to do this intelligently demands some 
 knowledge, at least, of the general principles of Shakespearian 
 metre. Fortunately for the young student the versification 
 of the Merchant of Venice represents as nearly as possible the 
 normal type of Shakespeare's usage, differing alike from the 
 monotonous regularity of his earliest work, and the bold license 
 of his later plays. 
 
 The Merchant of Venice is written in prose and verse. The 
 prose amounts to nearly a quarter of the whole. It is used 
 generally for light and humorous dialogue, such as that of 
 Act I. scene ii. Launcelot Gobbo, the clown of the play, 
 always speaks in prose, except once when he utters a rhymed 
 couplet. The only passage in which strong emotion of any 
 sort is expressed in prose is Act III. scene i. For a possible ex- 
 planation of this see the introductory note to that scene (p. 126). 
 
 The verse of the play may be divided into two general classes : 
 
 (a) blank verse, i. e. unrhymed lines in iambic pentameter; 
 
 (b) rhymed lines in various metres. 
 
 (a) Blank verse. The typical blank verse line is an iambic 
 
 199 
 
200 Appendix A. 
 
 pentameter, that is, it contains five feet of two syllables each, 
 the second of which is accented. Or, to use a modern termi- 
 nology, it is "a sequence of five stressed and five unstressed 
 syllables, commonly alternating." We may denote this line 
 most simply by placing an accent (') over the stressed syllable 
 of each foot, as 
 
 The first' of gold' who this' inscrip'tion bears'. 
 
 Now a prolonged succession of such lines would be extremely 
 monotonous and trying to the ear, as may easily be seen by 
 reading aloud the long speech of ^geon in the first scene of 
 the first act of the Comedy of Errors, one of the earliest of 
 Shakespeare's plays. In order to avoid such monotony, Shake- 
 speare soon began to make use of a number of variations from 
 the normal line. 
 
 In the first place, he departed from the normal line by adding 
 a syllable, 
 
 (a) to the end of the line. This is the so-called feminine 
 ending, as 
 
 I would' have stayed' till I' had made' you mer'ry. 
 
 Occasionally he added two syllables. If the second of these 
 is a stressed syllable we have a line of six feet, sometimes called 
 an Alexandrine, as 
 
 I will' assume' desert'. Give' me a key' for this'. 
 
 Otherwise we have the so-called double feminine ending, as 
 But who' comes here' ? Loren'zo and' his in'fidel. 
 
 The line of six feet may itself have a feminine ending, in which 
 case the line will contain thirteen syllables, as 
 
 Because' you are' not sad'. Now, by' two-hea^'ded Jan'us. 
 
 (b) to the foot preceding the caesura, i. e. the pause in the 
 line, as 
 
 Fad'ing in mu'sic: that' the compar'ison'. 
 
The Metre. 201 
 
 Sometimes two syllables are added here, both of which are so 
 lightly pronounced that they cannot be reckoned as making a 
 foot, as 
 
 O love', be mo'derate; allay' thy ec'stasy'. 
 
 In the second place, Shakespeare occasionally used lines of 
 less than ten syllables. Thus we have lines of nine syllables, as 
 But she' may learn'; hap'pier' than this'. 
 
 and fragmentary lines of four feet, as 
 
 Why then' you are' in love'. Fie, fie', 
 of three feet, as 
 
 What sum' owes he' the Jew'? 
 of two feet, as 
 
 And for' three months', 
 and even of one foot, as 
 
 La'stly 
 
 Of these fragmentary lines it may be remarked that lines of 
 three and of two feet are not uncommon, some thirty- six of 
 them appearing in the play. Lines of one foot are much less 
 common, and lines of four feet rarest of all. 
 
 Another method of varying the normal line employed by 
 Shakespeare is the substitution of some other foot for the 
 iamb in one or more places in the line. The commonest sub- 
 stitution is that of a trochee, i. e. a foot of two syllables with 
 the accent on the first. This substitution is sometimes called 
 stress-inversion. It may occur in any foot of the line, as in 
 the first, 
 
 Em'pties itself as doth' an in'land brook'. 
 
 in the second, 
 
 Live thou', I' live; with much' much more' dismay'. 
 
 in the third. 
 
 And by' the near' guess' of my me'mory' 
 
202 Appendix A. 
 
 in the fourth, 
 
 Would make' me sad'. My wind' coo'ling my broth' 
 and in the last, 
 
 And laugh' like pa'rrots at' a bag'pi'per. 
 
 Occasionally, though not often, we find two trochees in a single 
 line. 
 
 Sometimes instead of the substitution of a trochee we find 
 two light syllables instead of one in the first half of the foot, 
 thus producing the effect of an anapaest,, i. e. a foot of three 
 syllables with the accent on the last, as 
 
 The pro'digal Chris'tian. Jes'sica', my girl' 
 
 This substitution, however, is rare in the Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Many apparent irregularities in the metre of the blank verse 
 are due to a difference of pronunciation between Shakespeare's 
 time and ours. Some of the more striking of these are indi- 
 cated in the notes. Due attention must also be paid to the 
 frequent contractions of two words, or two syllables, into one; 
 and to the expansion of one syllable into two when required by 
 the metre. The same word is sometimes pronounced differ- 
 ently in different places, even in the same line, as 
 
 And so', though yo'urs, n'ot yours, prove' it so'. 
 
 In general, it should always be remembered that Shake- 
 speare wrote his verse to be spoken, not read. Many lines that 
 puzzle the ingenuity of critics attempting to fit them into a 
 hard and fast metrical scheme, flow along smoothly enough 
 w"hen spoken in rapid dialogue, and aided by the intonation and 
 the gestures of the actor. 
 
 (b) The percentage of rhymed lines in the Merchant of Venice 
 is only about 5% of the verse lines. The majority of rhymed 
 lines are in the so-called heroic couplet, i. e. in iambic pentam- 
 eter, each pair of lines rhyming, as 
 
 Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer: 
 Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 
 
The Metre. 203 
 
 We have one instance of a quatrain with alternate rhymes at 
 the close of Act III. scene ii. Such quatrains are not uncom- 
 mon in Shakespeare's early work, but they gradually disappear 
 from his later plays. 
 
 Other instances of rhyme in this play are found in the scrolls 
 within the caskets, which are in trochaic tetrameter, i. e. four- 
 foot lines, each foot consisting of a trochee, as 
 
 All' that glis'ters is' not gold'. 
 
 It will be noted that the last syllable of the last foot is omitted 
 here. This is the case throughout these passages and is done 
 for the sake of combining the rhyme and the stressed syllable. 
 An occasional iambic line also appears in these scrolls, as 
 
 Your an'swer had' not been' inscroll'd'. 
 
 The speech of Arragon after his unsuccessful choice and two 
 lines of Morocco's farewell, are also in trochaic tetrameter. 
 The song in Act III. scene ii. presents a mixture of iambic and 
 trochaic four-foot lines. 
 
 Lastly we have a pair of instances of rhymed doggerel (I. i. 
 111-112 and I. ii. 146-147) which cannot be reduced to any 
 regular metre. 
 
Appendix B. 
 
 THE SOURCES. 
 
 In order to show the close connection between the Merchant 
 of Venice and // Pecorone, not only in general outline but often 
 in minute details, an abstract of the story as epitomized by 
 Dr Johnson is here given. A literal translation of the whole may 
 be found in Collier's Shakespeare's Library, v, ii, p. 65. I 
 have purposely condensed as much as possible of those parts 
 of the story which were neglected by Shakespeare, and told at 
 greater length those parts which he incorporated into the play. 
 
 A rich merchant of Florence left all his property to his two 
 elder sons, and sent the youngest, Giannetto, with a letter of 
 recommendation to his god-father, Ansaldo, the richest Chris- 
 tian merchant in Venice. Ansaldo adopted the youth and 
 treated him as his own son. On Giannetto 's expressing a desire 
 to make a voyage to Alexandria, Ansaldo fitted out a splendid 
 galley for him and put him in command of it. On the voyage, 
 Giannetto saw a fine harbor, called Belmonte, and asked to 
 whom it belonged. The captain of the ship told him that it 
 belonged to a beautiful widow who had been the ruin of many 
 gentlemen. She had made a law that whoever entered the 
 harbor must woo her: if he won her he would become lord of 
 the country, but if not, he must forfeit all that he brought with 
 him. Giannetto was seized with a desire to try his fortune, and 
 sailed into the harbor. 
 
 He was well received by the lady, who asked him if he knew 
 the custom of the country. On his replying that he did and 
 had come to court her, she invited him to her chamber; but 
 before he entered she gave him a draught of wine drugged with a 
 sleeping potion. In consequence of this he at once fell asleep 
 and never woke until late next morning, by which time the 
 lady had seized his ship. She gave him a horse and a little 
 money, and he rode back to Venice very disconsolate. 
 
 204 
 
The Sources. 205 
 
 Ansaldo, however, received him kindly and next year fitted 
 out a second ship even richer than the first, with which Gian- 
 netto once more sailed to Belmonte. Once more he was tricked 
 with the drugged wine, lost his ship, and returned in disgrace to 
 Venice. 
 
 As Ansaldo saw that Giannetto would never be happy until 
 he won the lady, he began to raise money to fit out a third ship. 
 To complete its equipment, however, he needed ten thousand 
 ducats more than he had in store. These he borrowed of a 
 Jew at Mestri,* on condition that if they were not repaid on the 
 feast of St. John in the next month of June, the Jew might cut 
 a potmd of flesh from any part of his body. Ansaldo begged 
 Giannetto that if any misfortune happened he would return 
 to Venice in order that his foster-father might see him before he 
 died; in this case he would die happy. 
 
 Giannetto sailed to Belmonte for the third time; and on this 
 occasion the secret of the drugged cup was revealed to him by a 
 sympathetic serving-maid of the lady. Accordingly he made 
 a mere pretence of drinking, won the lady, was married to her 
 with great ceremony, and lived with her very happily, forget- 
 ting all about Ansaldo and the bond to the Jew. Suddenly 
 one day the sight of a religious procession reminded him that 
 it was St. John's day, and that the bond had accordingly fallen 
 due. Confessing the state of things to his wife he received 
 from her a hundred thousand ducats and rode at once to Venice 
 to rescue his foster-father, if possible, and bring him back to 
 Belmonte. 
 
 When Giannetto reached Venice, he fotmd that the Jew had 
 already arrested Ansaldo, and although he was willing to spare 
 him until Giannetto arrived, he insisted on claiming the pound 
 of flesh. Several merchants wished to pay the debt; but the 
 Jew would not listen to them, saying that he wished to have 
 the satisfaction of killing the greatest of the Christian mer- 
 chants. Giannetto offered the Jew the amount due him and 
 as much more as he pleased to ask, but the Jew said he would 
 take nothing but the pound of flesh, because the debt had not 
 been paid at the proper time. Since the Jew's claim was based 
 upon the laws of Venice and justice was strictly administered 
 in that city, Giannetto had no resource but entreaties. At last 
 he offered the Jew one hundred thousand ducats, but he replied 
 that if Giannetto would give him as much gold as Venice was 
 worth he would not accept it. 
 
 In the meantime the lady had disguised herself as a young 
 
 * Mestri, or Mestre, is a little town on the mainland a fev,' miles from Venice. 
 
2o6 Appendix B. 
 
 lawyer and had come to Venice. On her arrival she caused a 
 proclamation to be made that a famous lawyer from Bologna* 
 had come to Venice to settle all disputed cases. Giannetto 
 proposed to the Jew to refer the matter to this lawyer, and the 
 Jew agreed, but insisted that he would hold to his bond. When 
 they came into the court, the lawyer, who acted as judge, read 
 the bond and said to the Jew: " You must take the hundred 
 thousand ducats and release the merchant, who will always 
 thank you for the favor." The Jew replied that he would do 
 nothing of the sort. Then the judge told the Jew to cut off a 
 pound of Ansaldo's flesh. But when the Jew approached the 
 merchant with a razor in his hand, the judge said to him: " Be 
 careful to take neither more nor less than a pound, for if you do 
 I will have your head cut off; and beside, if you shed one drop 
 of blood, you shall be put to death. The bond makes no men- 
 tion of the shedding of blood, but says expressly that you may 
 take a pound of flesh, neither more nor less." After a long 
 debate, the Jew said he would take the hundred thousand 
 ducats, but the judge told him to cut off the pound of flesh 
 according to the bond. Then the Jew offered to take ninety 
 thousand, or even eighty thousand ducats. Giannetto wanted 
 to pay him, but the judge told him to be quiet and let him 
 manage the case. At last the Jew said: " Give me my own ten 
 thousand ducats" ; but the judge replied: "You shall have noth- 
 ing; either take the pound of flesh or I will have the bond 
 cancelled." In a great rage the Jew tore the bond to pieces 
 and Ansaldo was set free. 
 
 After the trial Giannetto carried the hundred thousand 
 ducats to the inn where the lawyer was staying. He, however, 
 refused to receive them, but asked Giannetto to give him a ring 
 which he wore. " Willingly," said Giannetto; " but as it is a 
 ring given me by my lady to wear for her sake, I am reluctant to 
 part with it, since she will believe that I have given it to a 
 woman." At last, however, he gave the ring to the lawyer, 
 who straightway departed and hurried back to Belmonte, 
 arriving there some days before Giannetto and Ansaldo. 
 
 When Giannetto and his foster-father reached Belmonte, 
 the lady welcomed Ansaldo very warmly, but pretended to be 
 angry with her husband. On his asking the cause, she de- 
 manded what had become of the ring she had given him. " I 
 swear by all that is sacred, and by your dear self, that I gave it 
 to the lawyer who gained our cause," replied Giannetto. "And 
 
 * Bolo^a, one of the oldest of Itali3.ia univerfitieg, was famous for its law- 
 school, 
 
The Sources. 
 
 207 
 
 I can swear," said the lady, " that you gave it to a woman. 
 You should have stayed in Venice with your mistresses, for I 
 fear they all wept when you departed." Giannetto was so 
 troubled by this speech that he began to weep and assured the 
 lady that it was not so. But she burst out laughing and ran 
 to embrace him, showing him the ring and telling him of her 
 disguise as the lawyer. This caused Giannetto to love her 
 more than ever. He married Ansaldo to the damsel who had 
 warned him of the drugged cup, and they all lived happily 
 together all the rest of their lives. 
 
 It is plain from what has been said in the Introduction 
 that this novel was the first source of the Merchant of Ven- 
 ice. The alterations and additions that Shakespeare made 
 were mainly for the sake of character portrayal and of dra- 
 matic effect. Of these latter alterations the most important 
 is the substitution of the test by the caskets for the cup of 
 drugged wine, an incident which, by its very nature, was in- 
 capable of being presented on the stage. Unless Shakespeare 
 found the Casket Story united with the Bond Story in a pre- 
 vious play, he got it from a selection of stories made from the 
 Gesta Romanorum by the old printer, Wynkyn de Worde, in 
 the first part of the sixteenth century, and republished by 
 Richard Robinson six times between 1577 and 1601. The 
 frequent publication of Robinson's book testifies to the popu- 
 larity of the collection in Shakespeare's lifetime, and there can 
 be little doubt that he was acquainted with it. A brief 
 abstract of the story of the Three Caskets as it appears in 
 this collection is here given. The whole is reprinted in Col- 
 lier's Shakespeare's Library, v. ii. p. 102 seq. 
 
 The king of Ampluy sent his daughter by sea to marry the 
 son of the emperor of Rome. On the way she was shipwrecked 
 and swallowed by a whale. Nevertheless she finally arrived at 
 Rome, where the emperor resolved to try whether she was 
 worthy to marry his son. Accordingly he commanded to 
 bring forth three vessels. The first was made of pure gold 
 beset with precious stones without, and within full of dead 
 men's bones, with this inscription: " Whoso chooseth me shall 
 find that he deserveth." The second was made of fine silver, 
 filled with earth and worms, with this inscription; " Whoso 
 
2o8 Appendix B. 
 
 chooseth me shall find that his nature desireth." The third 
 was made of lead, full within of precious stones, with the in- 
 scription : ' ' Whoso chooseth me shall find that God hath dis- 
 posed to him." 
 
 The emperor told the king's daughter that if she chose a vessel 
 wherein was profit to her and to other, she should have his son, 
 but otherwise not. Thereupon she prayed to God to give her 
 grace to choose aright, and looked upon the vessels. When she 
 read the inscription of the gold vessel, she said that she did not 
 know what was within and so she would not choose it. Like- 
 wise she rejected the silver vessel, saying that she knew her 
 nature desired what was evil. But when she read the inscription 
 on the third vessel she said: " God never disposes any harm and 
 therefore I will choose this." So she obtained the emperor's 
 son and lived happily with him many years. 
 
 It has not seemed worth while to trace these stories of the 
 Bond and the Caskets to their remote origin. Those who are 
 interested in such matters will find this done in the Appendix 
 to Dr. Furriess's Variorum edition of the Merchant of Venice. 
 There is no reason to believe that Shakespeare ever saw any 
 earlier forms of the stories than those found in // Pecorone and 
 in Robinson's Gesta Romanorum. 
 
 Much has been said as to the relation of the Merchant of 
 Venice to the ballad of Gernutus printed in Percy's Reliques 
 and included by Dr. Furness in the Appendix to the Variorum 
 Merchant of Venice. But nothing whatever is known of the 
 date of this ballad. It has, indeed, been argued from its omis- 
 sion of all reference to Portia that it must precede the play, 
 but another ballad,* printed as late as 1664 and evidently 
 founded on the Merchant of Venice, also omits all reference to 
 Portia as the judge and actually substitutes Jessica for her in 
 the trial scene. If Gernutus was written before the Merchant 
 of Venice it is just possible that it may preserve for us the story 
 of the lost play mentioned by Gosson. In this case, it is plain 
 that nothing like the casket story appeared in that play. But 
 all arguments based upon this undated ballad are hypothetical 
 to a degree. 
 
 * Also printed in the Appendijc to the yg.riorum Merchant of Venice, 
 
Appendix C. 
 
 THE DATE. 
 
 It is customary in preparing an edition of a play of Shake- 
 speare for use in schools and colleges to begin the introduction 
 with a discussion of the date of composition. It seems to me, 
 however, that the young student of Shakespeare has little to 
 gain from such a discussion. When he is once acquainted 
 with the circumstances which gave rise to the composition of 
 the play, he had better proceed at once to the study of the 
 play itself than spend time in examining the proofs and 
 counter-proofs by means of which various critics have sought 
 to establish the exact date of the first appearance of the play. 
 Especially is this the case with the Merchant of Venice, where 
 we have no positive proof of any sort to determine this date. 
 In order, however, that the student may not be ignorant of 
 what has been said on the subject, the few facts that are known 
 in regard to the date of this play are here briefly summarized. 
 From what has been said in the Introduction it is plain 
 that the play cannot have been written before the trial of 
 Dr. Lopez in the winter of 1594. It is first mentioned by 
 Meres in his enumeration of Shakespeare's plays in Palladis 
 Tamia, a book containing an account of contemporary English 
 literature which appeared in 1598. Somewhere between these 
 two dates the composition of the play must have occurred. 
 The metrical tests, which are so often invoked to fix the date of 
 a play, do not in this case give us any exact answer. Accord- 
 ing to the latest and most careful experimenter with these 
 
 209 
 
^lo Appendix C. 
 
 tests * all that we can be sure of is that the M^rc/iaw^ was written 
 after Richard II. and before Henry V., that is, between 1593 or 
 1594 and 1599. 
 
 Malone, one of the most learned and diligent of the eighteenth- 
 century commentators on Shakespeare, identified the Merchant 
 of Venice with a play called by Henslowe the Venesyon (Vene- 
 tian) Comedy, which was first produced at Newington Butts, 
 a theatre on the south side of the Thames, on August 25, 1594. 
 Sidney Lee, one of the best authorities of to-day, is of the same 
 opinion. t This opinion, however, is rejected by most com- 
 mentators on the ground that it would have been impossible for 
 Shakespeare to have conceived and written such a masterpiece 
 of dramatic art in the brief interval between the execution of 
 Lopez, June 9, 1594, and the first performance of the Venesyon 
 Comedy. Mr. Lee seeks to escape this objection by asserting 
 that the Venesyon Comedy was the earliest version of the 
 Merchant, probably a hasty sketch, and that the play, as we 
 have it, owes its perfection to subsequent revision. There are, 
 however, no proofs of such a revision. The few important 
 differences between the first and second quartos which have 
 been pointed out in the Textual Notes indicate at most a 
 verbal revision of several passages; and the trifling inconsis- 
 tencies in the play itself may be due either to the haste in which 
 it was written, or to the retention of a few fragments of the old 
 play on which it appears to have been based. It may be noted, 
 however, in support of Malone's identification that Shakespeare 
 need by no means have waited till the death of Lopez to begin 
 the composition of his play. The Jew was, as we know, con^ 
 demned to death on the last day of February. The Jew of 
 Malta had already been revived on February 4th, perhaps in 
 consequence of the excitement caused by the arrest of Lopez. 
 Shakespeare may very well have begun his work on the Merchant 
 of Venice in the early spring of 1594, and this would allow him 
 to finish it in plenty of time for a performance on August 25th. 
 
 *Konig, Der Vers in Shakspere' s Dramen, 1888, p. 136, 
 t Lee Life of Wilham Shakespeare, p. 69. 
 
The Date. 211 
 
 We know from Henslowe's diary that the Venesyon Comedy 
 was a very popular play in the autumn and early winter of 
 1594-95. It was performed eight times before Christmas 
 and, as the figures in Henslowe's accounts show, to very good 
 houses. Curiously enough the Jew of Malta suffered at the 
 same time a notable diminution of popularity. Although it 
 had been given two or three times a month, and always to good 
 houses, during the summer of 1594, after the appearance of the 
 Venesyon Comedy it was only played three times before it was 
 dropped altogether, and laid away for over a year. The last of 
 these performances was to so scanty an audience that Henslowe 
 got only three shillings as his share of the receipts. That there 
 is any causal connection between the popularity of the Venesyon 
 Comedy and the diminishing attractiveness of the Jew of Malta 
 we cannot positively assert. One would be glad to believe 
 that Shakespeare's true picture of a Jew drove Marlowe's 
 grotesque caricature from the stage ; but it would be uncritical 
 to assert so much upon the basis of the figures of Henslowe's 
 diary. 
 
 In conclusion, then, we can only say that the Merchant 
 appeared some time between 1594 and 1598. Of the many 
 critics who have discussed the matter Malone, Staunton, Grant 
 White, Delius, Rolfe, and Lee prefer 1594 as the probable date 
 of composition; Dowden, Verity, Fleay, and Gollancz prefer 
 1596; Herford says about 1596-7; Furnivall about 1596; 
 no modern critic puts it later than 1597. After all the precise 
 date matters little so long as we know that this great master- 
 piece was conceived at a time when Shakespeare felt his powers 
 as a dramatist, unhindered by the checks that had formerly 
 been laid upon them, rising to the height of their great oppor- 
 tunities and surpassing even the genius of the great poet and 
 dramatist who had hitherto been his master. 
 
Appendix D. 
 
 HINTS FOR STUDY. 
 
 As an ideal toward which the student may strive, although 
 one hardly to be obtained by the cursory reading which is 
 usually given to books set for reading only in our college en- 
 trance examinations, I print here Professor Meiklejohn's plan 
 of study for ' perfect possession ' of the play, as given in his 
 edition of the Merchant of Venice, p. 122: "To attain the 
 standard of ' Perfect Possession' the student ought to have 
 an intimate and ready knowledge of the following parts of the 
 subject: 
 
 1. The Plot and Story of the Play. 
 
 (a) The general plot. 
 
 (6) The special incidents. 
 
 2. The Characters; ability to give a connected account of 
 all that is done and most of what is said by each character in 
 the play. 
 
 3. The Influence and Interplay of the characters upon each 
 
 other, 
 (a) Relation of A to B and of B to A. 
 (6) Relation of A to C and D. 
 
 4. Complete Possession of the Language. 
 
 (a) Meanings of words. 
 
 (h) Use of old words, or of words in an old meaning. 
 {c) grammar. 
 
 id) ability to quote lines to illustrate a grammatical 
 point. 
 
 5. Power to Reproduce or Quote. 
 
 (a) What was said by A or B on a particular occasion. 
 (6) What was said by A in reply to^B. 
 
 212 
 
Hints for Study. 213 
 
 (c) What argument was used by C at a particular 
 
 juncture, 
 (J) To quote a line in instance of an idiom or a peculiar 
 meaning. 
 6. Power to Locate. 
 
 (a) To attribute a line or statement to a certain person 
 
 on a certain occasion. 
 
 (b) To cap a line. 
 
 (c) To fill in the right word or epithet. 
 
 The following questions and topics for short compositions 
 have been taken from papers recently set for entrance into 
 some of the leading American universities. 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 
 1. What elements of greatness do you discover in Shylock's 
 
 character? (Give the reasons for your opinion.) 
 
 2. What character do you admire most in the Merchant of 
 
 Venice? (Give the reasons for your opinion.) 
 
 3. Has Shylock or Antonio the greater claim upon your sym- 
 
 pathy? (Give the reasons for your opinion.) 
 
 4. Under what circumstances is the 'Music of the Spheres' 
 
 mentioned? What is said of it? 
 
 5. Give the substance of Bassanio's speech at the caskets. 
 
 6. What was Shylock's motive in demanding a pound of 
 
 flesh when he might have had payment of his bond in 
 money ? 
 
 7. Tell the circumstances of Jessica's escape from the house 
 
 of Shylock. 
 
 8. Quote ten consecutive lines from the play. 
 
 9. Give your opinion of the treatment received by Shylock 
 
 throughout the play. 
 
 10. What relation do the minor love stories in the Merchant 
 
 of Venice bear to the main plot? 
 
 11. How does the use of contrast in the characters and set- 
 
 ting add to the interest of the play? 
 
214 Appendix D. 
 
 TOPICS. 
 
 1. The conditions upon which Portia's hand was to be ob- 
 tained in marriage, 
 
 2. The sentence pronounced by Portia upon Shylock. 
 
 3. The trial scene. 
 
 4. The true character of Shylock. 
 
 5. Bassanio and the caskets. 
 
 6. Antonio's debt to Shylock. 
 
 7. The story of the rings. 
 
 8. The meeting between Launcelot Gobbo and his father. 
 
 9. The story of the play. 
 
 10. Jessica. 
 
 11. A criticism of any professional performance of the Mer- 
 chant of Venice that you have seen. 
 
 12. Discuss Shylock' s position as one of a persecuted race 
 and as a money lender, and show its effect upon his character. 
 
 13. The fifth act of the Merchant of Venice ^ 
 
Glossary. 
 
 Abode, II. vi. 21, delay. 
 
 advised, I. i. 142, careful; advisedly, V. 253, deliberately, 
 
 affection, IV. i. 50, sympathy; affections, I. i. 16, feelings, 
 emotions. 
 
 appropriation, I, ii. 46, addition. 
 
 argosies, I. i. 9, large trading vessels. The word is derived from 
 Ragusa, a town on the Adriatic, famous in Shakespeare's 
 time for its wide-spread commerce and large ships. The 
 first form in which this word appears in English, ragusye, 
 shows the derivation more clearly. 
 
 attended, V. 103, noticed, regarded with attention. 
 
 Balance, IV. i. 255, scales. 
 
 ban'd, IV. i. 46, poisoned. 
 
 bated, III. iv. 32, reduced, weakened. 
 
 beholding, I. iii. 106, indebted. 
 
 beshrew, II. vi. 52, curse, often used jestingly. 
 
 bonnet, I. ii. 81, hat. 
 
 Cerecloth, II. vii. 51, a cloth dipped in melted wax (Latin cera^ 
 
 ' wax ') and used as a shroud. 
 civility, II. ii. 204, good-breeding, decorum. 
 close, II. vi. 47, dark, secret. 
 commends, II. ix. 90, compliments. 
 commodity, III. iii. 27, convenience. 
 complexion, III. i. 32, nartural disposition. 
 compromised. III. iii. 79, agreed. 
 conceit, I. i. 92, intellect, understanding, III. iv. 2, conception, 
 
 idea. 
 
 215 
 
2i6 Glossary. 
 
 condition, I. ii, 143., temper, character. 
 
 confound, III. ii. 278, destroy. 
 
 continent, III. ii. 131, iijventory, abstract. 
 
 contrive, ]V. i. 352, plot. 
 
 convenient. III. iv. 56, proper to the occasion. 
 
 conveniently, II. viii. 45, properly. 
 
 counterfeit, III. ii 115, portrait. 
 
 cope, IV i. 412, meet, match with an equivalent. 
 
 costly, TI ix. 94, richly-adorned, gorgeous. 
 
 cozen, II. ix. 38, cheat. 
 
 cureless, IV. i. 142, incurable. 
 
 Disabling, II. vii. 30, disparagement. 
 
 doit, 1. iii. 141, the smallest coin which received a current stamp 
 
 in the Middle Ages, worth about a quarter of a cent. 
 ducat, I. iii. i, a Venetian coin either of gold or silver, the first 
 
 worth about $2.25, the second about $1. The word is 
 
 derived from Low Latin ducatus, a duchy, and means a 
 
 coin struck by a duke. 
 
 Eaning, I. jii. 88, bearing, used only of sheep. 
 
 eanlings, I. iii. 80, new-born lambs. 
 
 equal, I. iii. 150, exact. 
 
 estate, III. ii. 239, state, condition; estates, II. ix. 41, dignities. 
 
 estimation, II. vii. 26, value, worth. 
 
 excrement. III. ii. 87, outgrowth, here used for ' beard.* 
 
 Faint, I. i. 125, small, narrow. 
 
 fall, I. iii. 89, let fall, give birth to. 
 
 feared, II. i. 9, frightened. 
 
 fearful, I. iii. 176, untrustworthy, giving cause for fear. 
 
 fill-horse, II. ii. 100, shaft-horse. 
 
 fond, II. ix. 27, foolish. 
 
 forfeitures, III. iii. 22, penalties due to any one. 
 
 fretten, IV. i. 77, shaken. 
 
Glossary. 217 
 
 Gaberdine, I. iii. 113, a long loose cloak. 
 
 garnish, II. vi. 45, dress,. 
 
 gramercy, II. ii. 128, many thanks, a corruption of the French 
 
 grand merci. 
 gratify, IV. i. 406, " make a present, usually of money; give a 
 
 gratuity especially as a reward" (New English Dictionary). 
 guarded, II, ii. 164, faced, trimmed. 
 guiled. III. ii, 97, full of guile, treacherous. 
 
 Humility, III. i. 72, humanity, benevolence. 
 humour, IV. i. 43, fancy, whim. 
 husbandry. III. iv. 25, care, charge. 
 
 Imposition, III. iv. 33, imposed task, injunction; I. ii, 114, 
 
 binding arrangement. 
 inter gator ies, V. 298, questions asked upon oath. 
 intermission. III. ii. 201, delay. 
 insculp'd, II. vii. 67, carved. 
 
 Jump, II. ix. 32, agree. 
 
 Knapped, II. i, 10, nibbled. 
 
 Level, I. ii. 41, guess. 
 
 liberal, II. ii. 194, free and easy. 
 
 likely, II. ix. 92, pleasing, good-looking. 
 
 livings. III. ii. 158, estates, possessions. 
 
 Magnificoes, III. ii. 282, Venetian noblemen. 
 
 marry, II. ii. 69, by the Virgin Mary; in Shakespeare's day the 
 
 phrase was merely a mild expletive. 
 m^ere, III. ii. .265, absolute, unquafified. 
 misconster'd, II. ii. 197, misunderstood. 
 moe, I. i. 108, more, a very common form in Shakespeare, used 
 
 to denote number, not quantity. 
 
2i8 Glossary. 
 
 Naughty, III. iii. 9, good-for-nothing, wicked. 
 nice, II. i. 14, fastidious. 
 
 Overlook' d, III. ii. 115, bewitched. 
 opinion, I. i. 91, reputation. 
 
 Pageants, I. i. 11, shows, theatrical exhibitions. The word 
 originally meant the movable scaffold upon which the old 
 miracle plays were performed. 
 
 parts, IV. i. 92, tasks. 
 
 patch, II. V. 46, fool. The word was often applied to the pro- 
 fessional fool or jester in allusion to his parti-colored 
 clothes. 
 
 patens, V. i. 59, small, fiat plates used in the celebration of 
 the mass. 
 
 pawned, III. V. 87, staked. 
 
 peize, III. ii. 22, literally weigh, then retard by hanging 
 weights on. 
 
 pent-house , II. vi. i, part of a house projecting over a street. 
 
 persuaded. III. ii. 283, argued. 
 
 pilVd, I. iii. 85, stripped, peeled. 
 
 port, I. i. 124, state; III. ii. 283, rank. 
 
 posy, V. 148, a motto inscribed on the inner side of a ring. 
 
 preferred, II. iii. 185, promoted. 
 
 presence. III. ii. 54, personal appearance, bearing. 
 
 presently, I. i. 183, at once. 
 
 prest, I. i. 160, ready, from the old French prest = prH. 
 
 prevented, I. i. 61, anticipated. 
 
 proper, I. ii. 77, handsome. 
 
 pursue, IV. i. 295, pronounce. 
 
 Quaintly, II. iv. 6, gracefully, prettily, 
 
 qualify, IV. i. 7, moderate. 
 
 quality. III. ii. 6, manner. 
 
 question, IV. i. 20, argue; IV. i. 346, talk. 
 
Glossary. ^19 
 
 Reasoned, II. viii. 27, talked, from, the French raisonner, 
 
 reasoning, I. ii. 23, conversation. 
 
 regreets, II. ix. 39, greetings. 
 
 remorse, IV. i. 20, pity. 
 
 respect, I. i. 74, consideration, attention. 
 
 respective, V. 156, considerative. 
 
 rheum, I. iii. 118, saliva. 
 
 rih, II. vii. 51, enclose, as the ribs do the heart. 
 
 road, V. 288, harbor. 
 
 Scanted, II. i. 17, restricted, 
 
 scarfed, II. vi. 15, adorned with flags. 
 
 seasons, IV. i. 197, tempers, softens. 
 
 sensible, II. viii. 48, sensitive; II. ix. 89, substantial. 
 
 sentences, I. ii. 11, maxims, moral sayings. 
 
 shrew, V. 21, a vixen, a scold. 
 
 shrewd, III. ii. 46, bad, evil. 
 
 shrive, I. ii. 144, hear at confession and absolve. 
 
 signior, I. i. 10, an Italian title of respect, equivalent to ' sir* 
 and, like 'sir,' derived from the Latin senior. 
 
 slubber, II, viii. 39, slur over, 
 
 sonties, II. ii. 47, probably a corruption of ' saunties,' a diminu- 
 tive of ' saints.' 
 
 sort, V. 132, ordain, dispose. 
 
 squandered, 1. iii. 22, scattered. 
 
 strange, I. i. 67, reserved, distant. 
 
 strond, I. i, 171, strand, 
 
 suited, I. ii. 79, dressed; III. v. 20, adapted. 
 
 Thrift, I, iii, 51, profit. 
 
 Unfurnished, III. ii. 126, unmatched, unprovided with its fellow. 
 unhandled. V, 72. unbroken. 
 
 unhandled, V, 72, unbroken. 
 unthrift, V. 16, good-for-nothing. 
 unthrifty, I. iii, 177, worthless. 
 usance, I, iii, 46, usury, interest. 
 
220 Glossary. 
 
 Vailing, I. i. 28, lowering. 
 
 vantage, III. ii. 176, opportunity. 
 
 via, II. ii. II, an Italian word used in England in Shakespeare's 
 
 day as an exclamation to encotirage horses. 
 void, I. iii. 118, empty, spit out. 
 
 Waft, V. II, beckoned. 
 
 waste, III. iv. 12, spend. 
 
 wealth, V. 249, welfare. 
 
 wit, II. i. 18, wisdom. 
 
 wroath, II. ix. 78, sorrow, misfortune, 
 
 Younkeff II. vi. 14, youth, young fellow. 
 
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