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THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 NOTES BY 
 
 MARGARET HILL McCARTER 
 
 The Merchant of"V enice 
 
THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 SHAKESPEARE'S 
 
 The Merchant of Venice 
 
 ■WITH 3SOTES 
 
 MARGARET HILL McCARTER 
 
 Formerly Teacher of English and American Literature, 
 Topeka High School. 
 
 Crane <fe Company, Publibhers 
 
 ToPEKA, Kansas 
 
 1905 
 
LIBRARY of CONGKESS 
 Two Corns Received 
 
 NOV 1 1906 
 
 . Copyrieht Entry 
 Tt-fru-:/, f fO L 
 CUSS /\ XXc, No. 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 
 ^Hkf^^r^^m^n^ 
 
 Copyright by 
 
 Crane & Company, Topeka, Kansas 
 
 1902 
 
lETEODUCTION. 
 
 I. BiOGKAPiiicAL Sketch. 
 
 William Shakespeare: Born April 23, lu6i; Died April 23, 1616. 
 
 " Men without some great motive lying at the basis of their action, 
 and giving color to their endeavor, can have no interest for us." 
 
 It was more than three hundred years ago, down in the 
 quiet town of Stratford, England, that William Shake- 
 speare first opened his baby eyes to the light of an April 
 day. Fifty-two years later, on the anniversary of that 
 same April day, they were closed, for him to be opened on 
 earth no more forever. 
 
 His life ran parallel with the latter half of the sixteenth 
 century, whose events helped to shape his career, and upon 
 whose history, as well as upon all subsequent history, 
 he exerted a wide and ever-increasing influence. It was 
 the era of " Good Queen Bess," the last and most powerful 
 of the powerful house of Tudor. Within its limits, briefly 
 told, Protestantism, whose great attributes are freedom of 
 thought and freedom of conscience, became liberated to the 
 English people. The supremacy of the English sovereign 
 over papal dictation was established. The force and fear 
 of Spain as a naval enemy was destroyed. It was a time 
 of daring adventure, of exploration, and of civil progress; 
 and above all, it was a golden age of literature. Through 
 such an era as this, William Shakespeare lived his half- 
 century of life. 
 
 His parents, John and IMary Arden Shakespeare, were 
 
 of families something above the yeomanry, and were, for a 
 
 (5) 
 
6 INTKODUCTION 
 
 part of their lives, possessed of comfortable means. In the 
 education of their eldest son, "William, various elements 
 combined. The free grammar school of Stratford fur- 
 nished him with classical learning. The influence of the 
 Protestant Church into which he was baptized had its bear- 
 ing upon his intellectual development. The many old Eng- 
 lish chronicles and legends that formed a large part of the 
 reading of that day supplied him with the material out of 
 which in later years he wove his most powerful and charm- 
 ing dramas. 
 
 Lastly, the character of the country in which Shake- 
 speare passed the first twenty years of his life, and to which 
 he returned to spend his sunset days, after wealth and repu- 
 tation were his in large possession, the quiet charm of his 
 surroundings, must have shaped his mental unfolding and 
 helped to put into his writings that element of beauty with 
 which they are illuminated. For in the Warwickshire 
 landscape up and down the winding Avon there is a 
 serenity and harmony and rich coloring, overhung with 
 a soft, dreamy atmosphere, that all in all appeals to the 
 heart of the poet. Something of its rare loveliness must 
 have become a part of Shakespeare's being, and so con- 
 trolled the shaping of his thought to the exquisite beauty 
 of its expression. 
 
 At the age of eighteen Shakespeare was married to Anne 
 Hathaway, a woman several years older than himself. To 
 them were born three children, — Suzanna, Hamnet, and 
 Judith. 
 
 At the age of twenty-two, Shakespeare left Warwick- 
 shire for London. Here for some twenty years as play- 
 
INTRODUCTION ' 
 
 actor, and especially as play-writer, his success grew stead- 
 ily. His family meanwhile made their home in Stratford, 
 and thither, once a year, he returned to visit them. In 
 fact, he seems always to have regarded Stratford and not 
 London as his home. Six or eight years before his death 
 he retired from the stage, rich and renowned, to spend the 
 remainder of his life in Warwickshire. Here, surrounded 
 by his family, his day's work done, he lived in serene 
 enjoyment until, on the 23d day of April, 1616, the open- 
 ing day of his fifty-third year, he passed out of this life, 
 henceforth to "belong to the ages." Two days later the 
 Holy Trinity Church of Stratford received his mortal re- 
 mains, where undisturbed they lie to-day, making sacred 
 ground of a bit of English soil. 
 
 ISTot without reason may the name of William Shake- 
 speare top the list of the world's great men of literature. 
 His works show him to have possessed the diplomacy of the 
 politician, the knowledge of the ripe scholar, the wisdom 
 of the historian, the calm insight of the philosopher, the 
 artistic intuition of the poet, and the deep and genial sym- 
 pathies of the Christian. 
 
 More and more, with the coming-on of time, will the 
 
 student follow Shakespeare in loving reverence. Because — 
 
 " With the pen of a ready writer 
 And an artist's hand to guide the pen, 
 And a poet's soul to smooth the measure," 
 
 he has portrayed human life in its wide and varied rela- 
 tions, and has set forth human responsibility and human 
 duty that know no distinction of time and place, he has 
 bound himself to the universal heart, and must always 
 stand in literature " The foremost man of all this world." 
 
8 
 
 INTEODUCTION 
 
 A most fitting tribute to liis greatness is found in the 
 closing lines of the cliarmingly worded criticism and biog- 
 raphy of Hamilton Wright Mabie : 
 
 " Shakespeare kept resolutely to the main highways of life, where 
 the interest of great human movement is always deepest and richest if 
 one has adequate range of vision. He dealt with the elemental and 
 universal experiences in broad, simple, vital forms, and in a language 
 which was familiar, and yet of the largest compass. . . . As he 
 studied life and passed through its experiences, he saw with increasing 
 clearness the moral order of the world, the ethical relation of the 
 individual to society and to his environment, the significance of 
 character as the product of will, and the gradation of qualities in a 
 scale of spiritual values. His work as an artist deepened and widened 
 as he grew in the wisdom of life. . . . Too great in himself to 
 become a cynic, and of a vision too broad and penetrating to rest in 
 any kind of pessimism, Shakespeare grew in charity as he increased in 
 knowledge. He loved much because he knew men so well. A deep and 
 tender pity was distilled out of his vast experience, and his last 
 work was the ripe fruit of the beautiful humanization of his genius 
 accomplished in him by the discipline and the revelation of life in his 
 personal history. . . . XAHien Prometheus brought the arts of life 
 to men, he did not leave them skill without inspiration; he brought 
 them hope also. Shakespeare's genius, shining on the darkest ways, 
 seems to touch the sky beyond the horizon with light." 
 
 Shakespeare's Works. 
 
 Dramas. The Taming of the Shrew. 
 
 The Merchant of Venice. All 's well that Ends Well. 
 
 Othello. Coriolanus. 
 
 Julius Cffisar. The Comedy of Errors. 
 
 A Midsummer-Night's Dream. Cymbeline. 
 
 Macbeth. Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 Hamlet. Measure for Measure. 
 
 Much Ado About Nothing. Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 Pvomeo and Juliet. Love's Labour 's Lost. 
 
 As You Like It. Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
 
 The Tempest. Timon of Athens. 
 

 INTEODUCTION V 
 
 Twelfth Night. 
 
 Troilus and Cressida. 
 
 The Winter's Tale. 
 
 Pericles, Prince of Tyre. 
 
 King John. 
 
 Titus Andronicus. 
 
 Richard II. 
 
 Poems. 
 
 Henry IV. Part I. 
 
 Venus and Adonis. 
 
 Henry IV. Part II. 
 
 The Rape of Lucrece. 
 
 Henry V. 
 
 Sonnets. 
 
 Henry VI. Part I. 
 
 A Lover's Complaint. 
 
 Henry VI. Part II. 
 
 The Passionate Pilgrim. 
 
 Henry VI. Part IH. 
 
 Sonnets to Sundry Notes of 
 
 Richard III. 
 
 Music. 
 
 Henry VIII. 
 
 The Phoenix and the Turtle. 
 
 King Lear. 
 
 
 II. Historical Basis. 
 
 The drama of The Merchant of Venice is based upon two 
 tales found in the Gesta Romanorum, a story-book full of 
 legends of the Middle Ages. One story forms the basis for 
 the bond; the other for the caskets. The two, however, 
 had been combined into one long before Shakespeare wrote 
 his play ; and this combination he drew upon for the main 
 materials of his drama. While the basis is legendary, the 
 main action is universally true, and the picture of the Jew 
 of that era is exceptionally fine. The Merchant of Venice 
 is supposed to have been written in 1596. But like almost 
 every other date connected with Shakespeare's biography, 
 it is only an approximation. It was first published in the 
 quarto form in 1600, and it formed a part of the folio of 
 1623. From the historic standpoint the interest centers 
 in Shylock as the type of Judaism of the Middle Ages. 
 And Judaism is always an interesting study. From the 
 side of romance the character of Portia is full of charm. 
 Her sweetness, her self-reliance and her ability make hei 
 
10 INTKODUCTION 
 
 a type of womanhood for all ages. In the literary analy- 
 sis of the play we nia.y give a critical study to these two 
 personifications, and may possibly find the reason why 
 The Merchant of Venice is one of the most popular and 
 widely read of all of Shakespeare's dramas. 
 
 III. Literary Analysis. 
 
 " To live for a universal end is not merely desirable, but ncccssarj', 
 and forms the basis of moral action." 
 
 The drama of The Merchant of Venice is a legendary 
 comedy, whose main action is so nearly tragical that the 
 play barely escapes becoming a tragedy. It may be further 
 classified as external, since its conflict lies in the realm of 
 reality and is developed by natural rather than super- 
 natural means. Its time relation falls in the palmy days 
 of Venetian greatness, before the enterprise of Da Gama 
 had made the front door of Europe to open on the Atlantic 
 ocean, leaving the Mediterranean seaports to be only unim- 
 portant side-entrances. From busy Venice the scene shifts 
 to Belmont, whose name in literal derivation, hcaiitiful 
 mountain^ is strikingly suggestive. 
 
 The purpose of the drama is to set forth the main con- 
 flict between the right to property and the right to human 
 life ; and the lesser conflict between the will of the parent 
 and the child's right of choice. The play divides itself 
 easily into two lines of action: the strife in Venice, and 
 the strife in Belmont. But so closely interwoven are the 
 interests of the two that they stand each to the other in the 
 relation of means to an end. 
 
INTKODUCTION 11 
 
 It is the business of the first act to develop the sealing 
 of a bond between Antonio, the merchant, and Shvlock, 
 the usurer. The purpose of this compact on Antonio's 
 part is to assist Bassanio to follow a winning suit for 
 Portia, — a favor that in the retribution of good deeds will 
 come back an hundred fold, through Portia, to Antonio. 
 On the part of the Jew it is to get a hold over an enemy 
 whom the Jew hates, and whom through legal means he 
 intends to destroy. When the time comes for canceling the 
 bond, although thrice the amount of the debt is offered to 
 Shylock, he still insists upon his pound of flesh, which by 
 the statutes of Venice he may claim. He proposes to hold 
 in strict justice to the letter of the law though all humanity 
 cry out against it. Hence there arises the struggle between 
 the right of the creditor to his property and the right to 
 human existence. But the struggle has a deeper root than 
 a mere question of right and wrong in the business world. 
 It is primarily a spiritual conflict between Christianity as 
 represented by Antonio and Judaism in the person of Shy- 
 lock. With this broader basis the play takes on a more 
 vital importance. 
 
 The second act sets forth the conditions under which 
 the beautiful Portia may be wooed and won. These are, 
 that the suitor shall choose out of three caskets the one 
 containing Portia's picture; failing in this, he shall 
 agree not to wed any woman. ISTo account is taken of Love, 
 which is the sacred basis upon which the family is built. 
 It is the old, old story of the struggle between parental 
 will and the right to individual choice. 
 
 These two conflicts in the play, tending to disrupt the 
 
12 INTRODUCTION 
 
 family and tliroiigh tlie tragical power of tlie law to destroy 
 human life, are to be happily overcome, else the poet 
 would sink from holding the grand ethical power of the 
 teacher into the mere office of the sensationalist. STich de- 
 fection Shakespeare never permits. The love conflict must 
 be mediated, and what seemed through parental authority 
 to rest upon chance must be subjected to the higher right of 
 the will of Portia. 
 
 In the third act comes the mediation of the minor strug- 
 gle. Wlien the lovers meet, certain influences are about 
 Bassanio to lead him to a wise choice. Because he really 
 loves Portia and she in turn loves him, he has the right 
 to claim her over all singling-out of caskets. Moreover, 
 it is because he loves her, and losing her, cannot love 
 another, that he will choose aright, for his heart is centered 
 on internal worth and not external show. It is not for 
 her wealth, although she is 
 
 " A lady richly left," 
 
 nor yet for her beauty, though 
 
 " Her sunny locks 
 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece," 
 
 but because she has " wondrous virtues " that Bassanio 
 loves her most. Under the spell of that influence that sees 
 the merit of genuine and enduring affection, that spirit 
 that binds two souls " so long as they both shall live," he 
 will ignore the gold and silver caskets for the leaden one. 
 
 But Bassanio has most direction from Portia herself. 
 At the last moment she rises above parental authority, 
 since that authority would subject her to the cruel chance 
 of wedlock without love and so profane and destroy the 
 
IISrTEODtrCTION 
 
 13 
 
 sweet and holy marriage rite and tlie sacred institution of 
 the family. By the introduction of a skillfully worded 
 song, whose purport is to urge a disregard for outward ap- 
 pearance, she adroitly leads Bassanio to choose the leaden 
 casket. She becomes herself the mediator of the conflict, 
 and the two are happily married. But the thing was 
 made possible by the generosity of Antonio, who for this 
 generosity is now about to give up his life. 
 
 Portia then owes a duty to Antonio, which her recent 
 struggle between her right to love Bassanio and her alle- 
 giance to her dead father has prepared her to more intelli- 
 gently perform. So the fourth act brings on the famous 
 trial scene, when Life and Law hang in the scales. But 
 since Law exists to protect and not to destroy, a way out of 
 the dilemma must be found. The conflict turns upon a 
 mere form of law, yet the force of that form cannot be 
 gainsaid. Here Portia again becomes mediator, — first 
 because of her deep obligation to Antonio for her highest 
 happiness ; secondly, because, being a woman, she can 
 best plead for mercy ; and lastly, as before stated, because 
 her power to judge for her own welfare has given her an 
 insight into the difference between the strictest justice and 
 human obligations. After appealing in vain to Shylock's 
 sense of humanity, and after offering treble the debt in 
 ducats, she turns Shylock's weapon upon himself, which 
 will as surely destroy him as it will his enemy. For the 
 letter of the law upon which the Jew has hung would in 
 turn brand him a murderer and destroy him with his vic- 
 tim. So there comes instead a reconciliation of wrong, 
 and merited but not unbearable punishment falls upon the 
 guilty. 
 
14 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The purpose of the fifth act is to round out the play 
 harmoniously. It has been called a " musical afterpiece." 
 In the idyllic picture of the life at Belmont, separated 
 families are reunited, differences are adjusted, and a 
 serenity like a summer sunset falls upon the mind. 
 
 The analysis now concerns itself with one more theme, 
 i. e., the study of individual characters. Of these there 
 are two great types, — the Jew and the wife. The antithe- 
 sis of the Jew is Antonio, who serves in the drama to 
 personify Christianity as exemplified in the business world. 
 The play, it may be said, has nothing to do with the dog- 
 mas of religion, but with the effects of religion as realized 
 in daily life. 
 
 Antonio is a merchant, whose chief aim is to enjoy his 
 wealth and to make it assist others. He loans money with- 
 out interest. He is surrounded by friends, because his 
 nature begets friendship. He is the type of mercy toward 
 all mankind except to the Jew, whom he despises. In this 
 he is one with his time, for the Venetian of that day de- 
 spised all Jews and held all bankers in contempt. For his 
 lack of mercy toward Shylock, Antonio is justly punished 
 with enduring for a time both loss of property and appre- 
 hension of his own doom. 
 
 Over against Antonio is Shylock, the exponent of Juda- 
 ism. Few portraits in literature are so faithfully and so 
 exquisitely drawn. In the Christian civilization in which 
 Shylock finds himself he cannot combine with those whom 
 he meets. Mark now the contrast between him and An- 
 tonio. He is a usurer, his business in life being to acquire 
 property. To-day one suffers no loss of reputation by 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 15 
 
 being a banker. Tbe banking business is now a necessary 
 adjunct to the commercial prosperity of a commonwealth. 
 In the age of Sliylock it was a legitimate but disreputable 
 calling. Among his associates on the Eialto he has no 
 friends. The effect of his character is to disrupt his own 
 home. ISTeithcr his daughter nor his servant can reason 
 themselves into any allegiance to him. The action of 
 'Jessica, so at variance with Portia's loyalty, would shock 
 us were it not for our appreciation of Jessica's environ- 
 ment and its lack of moral influences. 
 
 Shylock is the embodiment of justice. It is inherent in 
 his nature not to know mercy. ISTone is ever shown to him, 
 and belonging as he does to a " chosen people," he owes 
 nothing to the Gentile. In business and religion, then, 
 Shjdock is under a ban. The object of centuries of in- 
 justice and abuse, he is the very incarnation of hatred. 
 He holds rigidly to the law, for the reason that it is all 
 the protection he has, and for the further reason that his 
 religion is one of stern obedience to form. He would 
 murder Antonio, legally, because Antonio stands for all 
 that he hates, and personally because of Antonio's ill- 
 treatment of himself. He declares : 
 
 " I hate him for he is a Christian, 
 
 But more for that, in low sirnplicitj^, 
 
 He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
 
 He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate. 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
 Which he calls interest." 
 
lb INTRODUCTION 
 
 But Shylock is no stupid, brutal, miserly thief. He is 
 
 tlie shrewdest man in all the caste. Being a Jew, his end 
 
 is "his bargains and his well-won thrift." Being a Jew, 
 
 he demands only what by law is his. Being a Jew, he 
 
 knows nothing of that " charity that seeketh not her own." 
 
 And being a Jew, " he sees quite through the deeds of 
 
 ' Christian ' men." Very adroitly has Shakespeare made 
 
 him the mouthpiece for railing against the un-Christlike 
 
 traits of those who rank as Christians. In his plea for 
 
 his bond he aims a powerful blow at all the cruel oppression 
 
 his race has suffered from those who claim the leadership 
 
 of the Man of Galilee : 
 
 "He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed 
 at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my 
 bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what's his 
 reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, 
 organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same 
 food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, 
 healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter 
 and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? 
 if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? 
 and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the 
 rest, we will 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 villany you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I 
 will better the instruction." 
 
 There is a sting here that the truth sharpens, and we are 
 more willing — in fact, we demand, after this — that mercy, 
 the mercy Shylock himself refused to gi-ant, shall neverthe- 
 less be shown to him, that earthly power " might in this 
 show likest God's." 
 
INTKODUCTION 
 
 17 
 
 One more character remains to be considered. Shake- 
 speare seems in Portia to have realized his best conception 
 of womanliness. There is in her makeup a sweetness and 
 dignity and tenderness that characterizes her as belonging 
 to the highest type of womanhood. Wherever she moves 
 there emanates the grace of one " to the manor born," the 
 resultant of wealth and luxurious elegance. Added to 
 these is a fine mentality. Self-reliance, wit, clear judg- 
 ment, penetration, firmness, hopefulness and mercy com- 
 bine in her to form a superior character. Because she 
 typifies the true wife, all Bassanio's interests are hers, and 
 she whom heretofore " the winds of heaven have not visited 
 too roughly," whose " foot has fallen on softness " and 
 whose "eye has lighted on splendor," undertakes a most 
 daring and difficult task. It is for her to liberate Antonio. 
 She is in the play the representative of the family, the 
 basis of the other human institutions. She is therefore 
 the fit instrument to save Antonio, who represents society 
 under the constitution of the IN'ew Testament. She does 
 her work with such intelligence and skill that dire tragedy 
 melts into smoothest comedy. Because of what she is and 
 what she stands for, among the fine feminine characters in 
 literature it may be said of her, *'' Many daughters have 
 done virtuously, but thou excellest them all." 
 
 In summing up, the play develops certain points. 
 
 Through it runs a thread of artistic and idyllic charm, a 
 
 subtle sense of refinement, an absence of rude and vulgar 
 
 intrusions. There seems to be reflected in it something of 
 
 the quiet, harmonious beauty that Shakespeare knew in his 
 
 boyhood surroundings in the bypaths between the haw- 
 —3 
 
18 INTKODUCTION 
 
 thorn hedges of the Warwickshire countryside. The storj 
 of the friendship between Bassanio and Antonio, like the 
 friendship of David and Jonathan, appeals to the common 
 heart of humanity. 
 
 The picture of womanhood in strength and sweetness, of 
 power that is uplifting and grace that is ennobling, of love 
 that is divine, and sympathy that is broad and deep, re- 
 veals a personality that can never lose its charm, because 
 its attributes are universal. 
 
 And lastly, the clear-cut type of the Jewish character, in 
 the family, in business, in society, in morality, touching 
 all phases of life, yet all the time and in everything a Jew, 
 is unparalleled in its truthfulness. 
 
 The realized Judaism and realized Christianity lying- 
 back of the property conflict in the drama present a clash 
 of universal principles of the Old Testament against the 
 New. The final triumph of the spirit that embodies in its 
 prayer the earnest petition, " Forgive us our debts as we 
 forgive our debtors," has given to this play the popularity 
 it has always known. For the play as well as the individual 
 must live for universal ends, else the virtue of each soon 
 disappears and the memory of each is buried among the 
 unmarked graves that swallow up the multitude. 
 
 MARGARET HILL McCARTER. 
 
 August, 1903. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 (19) 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 The Duke of Venice. 
 
 The Prince or Morocco, ) ., , t, .• 
 
 5- suitors to Portia. 
 The Prince op Arragon, ) 
 
 Antonio, the Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Bassanio, his friend. 
 
 Salanio, ) 
 
 Salarino, > friends to Antonio and Bassanio. 
 
 Gratiano, ) 
 
 Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. 
 
 Shytock, a Jew. 
 
 Tubal, a Jew, his friend. 
 
 Launcelot Gobbo, a clown. 
 
 Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot. 
 
 Salerio, a messenger. 
 
 Leonardo, servant to Bassanio. 
 
 Balthasar, 
 
 , servants to Portia 
 Stephano 
 
 Portia, a rich heiress. 
 
 Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 
 
 Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 
 
 Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, Gaoler, 
 
 Servants, and other Attendants. 
 
 Scene: Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont. 
 
 (20) 
 
ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio. 
 
 Antonio. 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 't is made of, Avhereof it is born, 
 r am to learn ; 
 
 And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
 That I have much ado to know myself, 
 
 Salarino. Yonr mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
 There Avhere your argosies with portly sail. 
 Like sigTiiors and rich burghers on the flood, ^^ 
 
 Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
 Do overpeer the petty traffickers. 
 That curtsy to them, do them reverence, 
 As they fly by them with their woven wings. 
 
 Salanio. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
 The better part of my affections would 
 Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
 Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind. 
 Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads ; 
 And every object that might make me fear ^^ 
 
 Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, 
 Would make me sad. 
 
 Salarino. My wind, cooling my broth, 
 
 Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
 
 (21) 
 
22 
 
 THE CRANE CLASSICS. 
 
 What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
 
 I should not see the sandy honr-glass run 
 
 But I should think of shallows and of flats, 
 
 And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, 
 
 Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs, 
 
 To kiss her burial. Should I go to church 
 
 And see the holy edifice of stone, ^'^ 
 
 And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, 
 
 Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side, 
 
 Would scatter all her spices on the stream. 
 
 Enrobe the roaring waters with my 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 bechanc'd would make me sad ? 
 
 But tell not me; I know, Antonio 
 
 Is sad to think upon his merchandise. *^ 
 
 Antonio. Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it, 
 My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
 ]^or to one place ; nor is my whole estate 
 Upon the fortune of this present year : 
 Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 
 
 Salarino. Why, then you are in love. 
 
 Antonio. Fie, fie ! 
 
 Salarino. Not in love neither ? Then let us say you 're 
 Because you are not merry ; and 't were as easy [sad 
 
 For you to laugh and leap, and say you 're merry 
 Because you are not sad. ]S[ow, by two-headed Janus, ^" 
 ISTature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time : 
 Some that will evermore peep through their eyes 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper; 
 
 And other of such vinegar aspect 
 
 That thej '11 not show their teeth in way of smile, 
 
 Though ITestor swear the jest be laughable. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 
 
 Salanio. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
 Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well ; 
 We leave you now with better company. 
 
 Salarino. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, 
 If worthier friends had not prevented me. ^^ 
 
 Antonio. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
 I take it, your own business calls on you, 
 And you embrace the occasion to depart. 
 
 Salarino. Good morrow, my good lords. 
 
 Bassanio. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh ? 
 Say, when ? 
 You grow exceeding strange ; must it be so ? 
 
 Salarino. We '11 make our leisures to attend on yours. 
 
 [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 
 
 Lorenzo. My Lord Bassanio, since you've found An- 
 tonio, 
 We two will leave you; but at dinner-time, "^^ 
 
 I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 
 
 Bassanio. I will not fail you. 
 
 Gratiano. You look not well, Siguier Antonio ; 
 You have too much respect upon the world: 
 They lose it that do buy it with much care. 
 Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. 
 
 Antonio. 1 hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, 
 A stage w^here every man must play a part, 
 
24 THE CRANE CLASSICS. 
 
 A.nd mine a sad one. 
 
 Gratiano. Let me plaj tlie fool; 
 
 With mirtli and laughter let old wrinkles come, **^ 
 
 And let my liver rather heat with wine 
 Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
 Wliy should a man whose hlood is warm within 
 Sit like his grandsire cnt 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, ®° 
 
 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 
 
 Wliich, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 
 
 I'll tell thee more of this another time; ^^^ 
 
 But fish not, Math this melancholy bait, 
 
 For this fool-gudgeon, this opinion. — 
 
 Come, good Lorenzo. — Fare ye well a while; 
 
 1 '11 end my exhortation after dinner. 
 
 Lorenzo. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner-time. 
 I must be one of these same dumb wise men. 
 For Gratiano never lets me speak. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 25 
 
 Gratiano. Well, keep me company but two years moe, 
 Thou slialt not know the sound of tliine own tongue. 
 
 Anionio. Farewell; I'll grow a talker for this gear. 
 
 Gratiano. Thanks, i' faith ; for silence is only commend- 
 able " ^'^ 
 In a neat's tongue dried. \_Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. 
 
 Antonio. Is that any thing now? 
 
 Bassanio. 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 Avhen you have them they 
 are not worth the search. 
 
 Antonio. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same 
 To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, ^^^ 
 
 That you to-day promis'd to tell me of? 
 
 Bassanio. 'T is 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 : 
 ISTor 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 gag'd. To you, Antonio, ^^^ 
 
 I owe the most, in money and in love ; 
 And from your love I have a warranty 
 To unburthen all my plots and purposes. 
 How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 
 
 Antonio. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ; 
 And if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
 
26 THE CKANE CLASSICS, 
 
 Within the eye of honour, be assur'd, 
 
 My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
 
 Lie all unlock' d to your occasions. 
 
 Bassanio. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 
 I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight ^*^ 
 
 The selfsame 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 
 ^Vhich you did shoot the first, I do not doubt. 
 As I will watch the aim, or to find both ^^" 
 
 Or bring your latter hazard back again. 
 And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 
 
 Antonio. 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 wdiat I should do, 
 That in your knowledge may by me be done. 
 And I am prest unto it; therefore speak. i^® 
 
 Bassanio. 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: 
 
THE MEKCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 27 
 
 Xor is the wide world i^iorant of lier wortli ; 
 
 For the four winds blow in from every coast 
 
 Renowned suitors ; and lier sunny locks 
 
 Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; *'^° 
 
 Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand, 
 
 And many Jasons come in quest of her, 
 
 my Antonio, had I hut the means 
 
 To hold a rival place with one of them, 
 
 1 have a mind presages me such thrift 
 That I should questionless he fortunate. 
 
 Antonio. 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 : ^^'^ 
 
 Tliat 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. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. Belmont. A Room in Portia s House. 
 Filter Portia and I^erissa. 
 
 Portia. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary 
 of this great world. 
 
 Nerissa. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries 
 were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are ; and 
 yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too 
 much as they that starve with nothing. It is no mean hap- 
 piness, therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity 
 comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. 
 
28 THE CKANE CLASSICS. 
 
 Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 
 
 Nerissa. They would be better if well followed. ^° 
 
 Portia. If to do were as easy as to know what were good 
 to do, cbapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages 
 princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own 
 instructions ; I can easier teach twenty what were good to 
 be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teach- 
 ing. The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot 
 temper leaps o'er a cold decree ; such a hare is madness, the 
 youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, the cripple. 
 But this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a hus- 
 band. — 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, jS^erissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse 
 none? ^* 
 
 Nerissa. Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at 
 their death have good inspirations; therefore the lottery 
 that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, 
 and lead — whereof who chooses )iis 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 ? "- 
 
 Portia. I pray thee, over-name them, and as thou namest 
 them, I will describe them ; and, according to my descrip- 
 tion, level at my affection. 
 
 Nerissa. First, there is the I^eapolitan prince. 
 
 Portia. Ay, that 's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but 
 
THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 29 
 
 talk of his horse ; and lie makes it a great appropriation to 
 liis own good parts, that he can shoe him himself. 
 
 Nerissa. Then is there the County Palatine. '*® 
 
 Portia. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say, 
 " An you will not have me, choose." He hears merry tales, 
 and smiles not; I fear he will prove the weeping philoso- 
 pher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sad- 
 ness in his youth. I had rather to be married to a death's- 
 head with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. God 
 defend me from these two ! 
 
 Nerissa. How say you by tlie French lord. Monsieur Le 
 Bon? * ^» 
 
 Portia. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a 
 man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker ; but, he ! 
 why, he hath a horse better than the ISTeapolitan'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-caper- 
 ing ; 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 madness, I 
 shall never requite him, 
 
 Nerissa. What say you, then, to Palconbridge, the young 
 baron of England ? ^'^ 
 
 Portia. You know I say nothing to him, for he under- 
 stands not me, nor I him ; he hath neither Latin, French, 
 nor Italian, and you will come into the court and swear that 
 I have a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a proper 
 man's picture ; but, alas ! Avho can converse with a dumb 
 show ? How oddly he is suited ! I think he bought his 
 
30 THE CEANE CLASSICS. 
 
 doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in 
 Germany, and his behaviour every where. 
 
 Nerissa. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neigh- 
 bour ? 
 
 Portia. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ; for 
 he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore 
 he would pay him again when he was able: I think the 
 Frenchman became his surety and sealed under for another. 
 
 Nerissa. How like you the young German, the Duke of 
 Saxony's nephew ? 
 
 Portia. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and 
 most vilely in the afternoon, wdien he is drunk: when he is 
 best, he is a little worse than a man ; and when he is worst, 
 he is little better than a beast. An the worst fall that ever 
 fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him. *^ 
 
 Nerissa. If he should offer to choose, and choose the 
 right casket, you should refuse to perform your father's 
 will, if you should refuse to accept him. 
 
 Portia. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set 
 a deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket ; for 
 if the devil be within and that temptation without, I know 
 he will choose it. I will do any thing, ITerissa, ere I will 
 be married to a sponge. ®^ 
 
 Nerissa. You need not fear, lady, the having any of 
 these lords : they have acquainted me wdth their determina- 
 tions; which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to 
 trouble you with no more suit, unless you may be won by 
 some other sort than your father's imposition depending 
 on the caskets. 
 
 Portia. If I live to be as old as Sybilla, I will die as 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 31 
 
 chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by tbe manner of mj 
 father's wilL I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reason- 
 able, for there is not one among them bnt I dote on his very 
 absence; and I wish them a fair departure. ^°*^ 
 
 Nerissa. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's 
 time, a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither 
 in company of the Marquis of Montferrat ? 
 
 Portia. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, so was he 
 called. 
 
 Nerissa. True, madam ; he, of all the men that ever my 
 foolish eves looked upon, was the best deserving a fair 
 lady. 
 
 Portia. I remember him well, and I remember him 
 worthy of thy praise. ■'^^ 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Servant. 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. 
 
 Portia. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good 
 heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad 
 of his approach ; if he have the condition of a saint, and 
 the complexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me 
 than wive me. ^^^ 
 
 Come, ISTerissa. — Sirrah, go before. — ■ 
 Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another knocks 
 at the door. [Exeunt. 
 
32 THE CRANE CLASSICS. 
 
 Scene III. Venice. A Public Place. 
 Enter Bassanio and Shylock. 
 
 Shyloch. Three thousand ducats, — well. 
 
 Bassanio. Ay, sir, for three months. 
 
 ShylocTc. For three months, — well. 
 
 Bassanio. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be 
 bound. 
 
 ShylocTc. Antonio shall become bound, — well. 
 
 Bassanio. May you stead me ? Will you pleasure me ? 
 Shall I know your answer ? 
 
 ShylocJc. Three thousand ducats for three months, and 
 Antonio bound. ^* 
 
 Bassanio. Your ansAver to that. 
 
 Shyloch. Antonio is a good man. 
 
 Bassanio. Have you heard any imputation to the con- 
 trary ? 
 
 Shylocl: Ho, no, no, no, no ; my meaning, in saying he is 
 a good man, is to have you understand me that he is suffi- 
 cient. Yet his means are in supposition : he hath an argosy 
 bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand, 
 moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a 
 fourth for England, and other ventures he hath, squandered 
 abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men: there 
 be land-rats and water-rats, land-thieves and water-thieves, 
 — I mean pirates; and then there is the peril of waters, 
 winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. 
 Three thousand ducats, — I think I may take his bond. -' 
 
 Bassanio. Be assured you may. 
 
 Shyloch. I will be assured I may ; and that I may be as- 
 sured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio ? 
 
THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 33 
 
 Bassanio. If it please you to dine witli us. 
 
 Shyloch. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation 
 which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into. 
 I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with 
 you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink 
 with you, nor pray with you. — What news on the Rialto ? — 
 Who is he comes here ? ^*'' 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Bassanio. This is Signior Antonio. 
 
 Shyloch. [Asidel How like a fawning publican he looks ! 
 I hate him for he is a Christian, 
 But more for that, in low simplicity, 
 He lends out money gratis, and brings down • *** 
 
 The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
 If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
 I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
 He hates our sacred nation ; and he rails. 
 Even there where merchants most do congregate. 
 On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift. 
 Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
 If I forgive him ! 
 
 Bassanio. Shylock, do you hear ? 
 
 Shyloch. 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 Antoniol Rest you fair, good 
 
 signior ; 
 — 3 
 
34 THE CEANE CLASSICS. 
 
 Yonr worship was the last man in our months. 
 
 Antonio. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow 
 By taking nor by giving of excess, 
 Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
 I '11 break a custom. — Is he yet possess' d ®° 
 
 How much you would ? 
 
 Shyloch. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 
 
 Antonio. And for three months. 
 
 Shylock. I had forgot, — three months ; you told me so. 
 Well then, your bond ; and let me see — but hear you : 
 Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 
 Upon advantage, 
 
 Antonio. I do never use it. 
 
 ShylocJc. When Jacob graz'd 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 — ''^ 
 
 Antonio. And what of him? did he take interest? 
 
 Shyloclc. "No, not take interest, not, as you would say. 
 Directly interest; mark what Jacob did. 
 When Laban and himself were compromis'd 
 That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied 
 Should fall as Jacob's hire, 
 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 ; 
 And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 
 
 Antonio. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for ; 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 35 
 
 A thing not in his power to hring 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 ? 
 
 ShylocJc. I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast. — 
 But note me, signior. 
 
 Antonio. Mark you this, Bassanio, 
 
 The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. ^^ 
 
 An evil soul, producing holy witness. 
 Is like a villain wath a smiling cheek, 
 A goodly apple rotten at the heart. 
 O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 
 
 ShylocJc. Three thousand ducats, — 'tis a good round 
 sum. 
 Three months from twelve, — then, let me see the rate. 
 
 Antonio. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you ? 
 
 ShylocJc. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, 
 In the Eialto, you have rated me 
 
 About my moneys and my usances ; *®** 
 
 Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, 
 For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
 You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
 And spet upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
 And all for use of that which is mine own. 
 Well then, it now appears you need my help : 
 Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say, 
 " Shylock, we would have moneys : " you say so. 
 You, that did void your rheum upon my beard. 
 And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur *^" 
 
 Over your threshold ; moneys is your suit. 
 
36 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 ^Vliat sliould I say to von ? Should I not say, 
 
 " Hath a dog money ? Is it possible 
 
 A cnr shonld lend three thousand dncats ? " Or 
 
 Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, 
 
 With bated breath and whispering humbleness, 
 
 Say this: 
 
 " Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last ; 
 
 You spurn'd me such a da^^ ; another time 
 
 You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies ^^® 
 
 I '11 lend you thus much moneys " ? 
 
 Antonio. I am as like to call thee so again, 
 To spet on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
 If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
 As to thy friends ; for when did friendship take 
 A breed of barren metal of his friend ? 
 But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 
 Who if he break, thou mayst with better face 
 Exact the penalty. 
 
 Shyloch. ^^y^ 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 
 Of usance for my moneys, and you '11 not hear me. 
 This is kind I offer. 
 
 Bassanio. This were kindness. 
 
 ShylocJv. 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 
 
THE iMEKCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 37 
 
 Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit **** 
 
 Be nominated for an equal pound 
 
 Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
 
 In what part of your body pleaseth me. 
 
 Antonio. Content, i' faith ; I '11 seal to such a bond, 
 And say there is much kindness in the Jew. 
 
 Bassanio. You shall not seal to such a bond for me; 
 I '11 rather dwell in my necessity. 
 
 Antonio. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it: 
 Within these two months — that 's a month before 
 This bond expires — I do expect return ^^^ 
 
 Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 
 
 Shjjlock. O Father Abram! what these Christians are 
 W^hose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 
 The thoughts of others ! — Pray you, tell me this : 
 If he should break his day, what should I gain 
 By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 
 A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man. 
 Is not so estimable, profitable neither. 
 As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say. 
 To buy his favour, I extend this friendship: *®® 
 
 If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
 And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 
 
 Antonio. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 
 
 Shylocl'. 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. '[Exit. 
 
38 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 Antonio. Hie thee, gentle Jew. — 
 
 The Hebrew will turn Christian ; he grows kind. ^"^^ 
 
 Bassanio. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 
 
 Antonio. Come on : in this there can he no dismay; 
 My ships come home a month before the day. [Exeunt. 
 
ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 
 Flourish of Cornets. Enter the Pkince of Morocco and 
 
 his train; Portia, Nerissa, and others attending. 
 Morocco. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
 The shadow'd livery of the tnrnish'd sun, 
 To whom I am a neighhoiir and near hred. 
 Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
 Wliere Phccbus' 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 
 Have lov'd it too. I would not change this hue, 
 Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 
 Portia. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
 By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ; 
 Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
 Bars me the right of voluntary choosing ; 
 But if my father had not scanted me. 
 And hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself 
 His wife who wins me by that means I told you, 
 Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 
 As any comer I have look'd on yet, 
 For my affection. 
 
 Morocco. Even for that I thank you ; 
 
 Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets 
 
 (39) 
 
40 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 To try mj fortune. By this scimitar, 
 
 That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince 
 
 That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
 
 I would o'er-stare 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, *° 
 
 To win thee, lady. But, alas the while ! 
 
 If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
 
 Wliich is the better man, the greater throw 
 
 May turn by fortune from the weaker hand: 
 
 So is Alcides beaten by his page; 
 
 And so may I, blind fortune leading me. 
 
 Miss that which one unworthier may attain. 
 
 And die with grieving. 
 
 Portia. You must take your chance ; 
 
 And either not attempt to choose at all, 
 Or swear, before you choose, if you choose wrong ^^ 
 
 'Never to speak to lady afterward 
 In way of marriage: therefore be advis'd, 
 
 Morocco. ISTor will not. Come, bring me unto my 
 chance. 
 
 Portia. Pirst, forward to the temple; after dinner 
 Your hazard shall be made. 
 
 Morocco. Good fortime then ! 
 
 To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 
 
 [^Cornets J and exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Launcelot. 
 Launcelot. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 4:1 
 
 from this Jew m_y master. The fiend is at mine elbow and 
 tempts me, saying to me, " Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good 
 Laimcelot," or " good Gobbo," or " good Launcelot Gobbo, 
 nse jour legs, take the start, run away." My conscience 
 says, " ISTo ; take heed, honest Launcelot ; take heed, honest 
 Gobbo," or, as aforesaid, " honest Launcelot Gobbo ; do not 
 run ; scorn running with thy heels." Well, the most cour- 
 ageous fiend bids me pack : " Via ! " says the fiend ; 
 " away ! " says the fiend ; " for the heavens, rouse up a 
 brave mind," says the fiend, " and run." Well, my con- 
 science, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very 
 wisely to me, " My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest 
 man's son," — or rather an honest woman's son, — well, my 
 conscience says, " Launcelot, budge not." " Budge," says 
 the fiend. " Budge not," says my conscience. " Con- 
 science," say I, " you counsel well ; " " Fiend," say I, " you 
 counsel well: " to be ruled by my conscience, I should stay 
 with the Jew my master, who, God bless the mark, is a kind 
 of devil ; and, to run away from the Jew, I should be 
 ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil 
 himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnation ; 
 and, in niy conscience, my conscience is a kind of hard con- 
 science, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The 
 fiend gives the more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend ; 
 my heels are at your commandment; I will run. ^^ 
 
 Enter Old Gobbo, with a basJcet. 
 Gobho. Master young man, you ! I pray you, which is 
 the way to master Jew's ? 
 
 Launcelot. \_Aside~\ O heavens ! this is my true-begotten 
 
42 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 father, who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel-blind, 
 knows me not. — I will try confusions with him, '^ 
 
 Gohho. ]\raster young gentleman, I pray you, which is 
 the Avay to master Jew's ? 
 
 Launcdot. Turn up on your right hand at the next turn- 
 ing, but at the next turning of all, on your left ; marry, at 
 the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down in- 
 directly to the Jew's house. 
 
 Gohho. By God's sonties, 't will be a hard way to hit. 
 Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with 
 him, dwell with him or no ? **' 
 
 Launcelot. Talk you of young Master Launcelot ? — 
 [Aside'] Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. — [To 
 him] Talk you of young Master Launcelot ? 
 
 Gohho. No master, sir, but a poor man's son ; his father, 
 though I say 't, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God 
 be thanked, well to live. 
 
 Launcelot. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk 
 of young Master Launcelot. 
 
 Gohho. Your worship's friend and Launcelot. 
 
 Launcelot. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I be- 
 seech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot ? ^^ 
 
 Gohho. Of Launcelot, an 't please your mastership, 
 
 Jjauncelot. 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. 
 
 Gohho. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very staff of 
 my age, my very prop. ^^ 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 43 
 
 Launcelot. [Aside'] Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel- 
 post, a staff or a prop ? [To 7?.im] Do you know me, father ? 
 
 Gohho. Alack the day ! I know you not, young gentle- 
 man ; but, I pray you, tell me, is my hoy — God rest his 
 soul ! — alive or dead ? 
 
 Launcelot. Do you not know me, father ? 
 
 Gohbo. Alack, sir, I am sand-hlind ; I know you not. 
 
 Launcelot. l^ay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might 
 fail of the knowing me ; it is a wise father that knows his 
 own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son. 
 [Kneels.'} Give me your blessing: truth will come to 
 light; murther cannot be hid long; a man's son may, but 
 in the end truth will out. "^^ 
 
 Gohho. Pray you, sir, stand up. I am sure you are not 
 Launcelot, my boy. 
 
 Launcelot. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about 
 it, but give me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your boy 
 that was, your son that is, your child that shall be. 
 
 Gohho. I cannot think you are my son. 
 
 Launcelot. I know not what I shall think of that ; but I 
 am Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery 
 your wife is my mother. ^^ 
 
 Gohho. Her name is Margery, indeed ; I '11 be sworn, if 
 thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. 
 Lord worshipped might he be ! what a beard hast thou got ! 
 thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill- 
 horse has on his tail. 
 
 Launcelot. 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. 
 
44 THE CRAXE CLASSICS 
 
 Gohho. Lord ! Low art tlioii clianft'cd ! How dost tlioii 
 and thy master agree ? I have brought him a present. 
 How gree yon now ? ^" 
 
 Launcelot. Well, well; bnt, for mine own part, as I 
 have set np nij rest to rnn away, so I will not rest till I 
 have rnn some gronnd. My master 's a very Jew : give him 
 a present ! give him a halter : I am famished in his service ; 
 yon may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I 
 am glad yon are come : give me yonr present to one Master 
 Bassanio, who indeed gives rare new liveries ; if I serve 
 not him, I will rnn as far as God has any ground. — O rare 
 fortnne ! here comes the man: — to him, father; for I am 
 a Jew if I serve the Jew any longer. ■^*'- 
 
 Enlcr Bassaxio, ivUh Leoxaudo and otJier foUoivcrs. 
 
 Bassanio. Yon 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 de- 
 sire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging, 
 
 \_ExLt a Servant. 
 
 Lavncelot. To him, father. 
 
 Gohho. God bless your worship ! 
 
 Bassanio. Gramercy ! would'st thou aught with me ? 
 
 Gohho. Here 's my son, sir, a poor boy, — '^'^^ 
 
 Launcelot. Xot a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jcav's man ; 
 that would, sir, as my father shall specify, — 
 
 Gohho. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, 
 to serve — 
 
 Launcelot. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the 
 Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify, — 
 
THE MEllCUAXT OF VENICE 45 
 
 Gohho. His master and he, saving your worship's rever- 
 ence, are scarce cater-cousins — 
 
 Launcelot. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew, 
 having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being, 
 I hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you, — ■'"^ 
 
 Gohho. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow 
 upon your worship ; and my suit is — 
 
 Launcelot. 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. 
 
 Bassanio. One speak for both. — '\\niat would you? 
 
 Launcelot. Serve you, sir. 
 
 Gohho. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 
 
 Bassanio. 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. 
 
 Launcelot. 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. 
 
 Bassanio. 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 [To his followers. 
 
 More guarded than his fellows' ; see it done. 
 
 Launcelot. 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 oiTer to swear upon a book ! 
 
46 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 — I shall have good fortune. — Go to, here 's a simple line 
 of life ! here 's a small trifle of wives : alas ! fifteen wives 
 is nothing! aleven widows and nine maids is a simple 
 coming-in for one man ; and then to scape drowning thrice, 
 and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed, 
 — here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, 
 she 's a good wench for this gear. — Father, come ; I '11 
 take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. ^^^ 
 [Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gohho. 
 
 Bassanio. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this. 
 These things being bought and orderly bestow' d, 
 Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 
 My best-esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go. 
 
 Leonardo. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 
 
 Enter Gratiano. 
 
 Gratiano. Wliere is your master? 
 
 Leonardo. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit. 
 
 Oratiano. Siguier Bassanio! ^®° 
 
 Bassanio. Gratiano ! 
 
 Gratiano. I have a suit to you. 
 
 Bassanio. You have obtain'd it. 
 
 Gratiano. You must not deny me. I must go with you 
 to Belmont. 
 
 Bassanio. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gra- 
 tiano : 
 Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice, — 
 Parts that become thee happily enough 
 And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
 But where they are not known, why, there they show 
 Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain *^® 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 47 
 
 To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
 
 Thy skipping spirit, lest througli tliy wild behaviour 
 
 I be misconstrued in tlie place I go to, 
 
 And lose my hopes. 
 
 Gmtiano. Signior Bassanio, bear me: 
 
 if I do not put on a sober habit, 
 Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, 
 Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely, 
 ITay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
 Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say " amen," 
 Use all the observance of civility, ^^'^ 
 
 Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
 To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
 
 Bassanio. Well, we shall see your bearing. 
 
 Gratiano. ISTay, but I bar to-night; you shall not gauge 
 me 
 By what we do to-night. 
 
 Bassanio. ISTo, that were pity ; 
 
 I would entreat you rather to put on 
 Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
 That purpose merriment. But fare you well; 
 I have some business. 
 
 Gratiano. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest; ^®° 
 But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. The Same. A Room in Sliylock's House. 
 Enter Jessica and Launcelot. 
 
 Jessica. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so; 
 Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil. 
 Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
 
48 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 But fare tliee 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. ^ 
 
 Launcelot. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most 
 beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew, adieu ! these foolish 
 drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit ; adieu ! 
 
 Jessica. Farewell, good Launcelot. [Exit Launcelot. 
 Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
 To be asham'd to be my father's child ! 
 But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
 I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo ! 
 If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife. 
 Become a Christian and thy loving wife. [Exit. 
 
 Scene IV. The Same. A Street. 
 Enter Gkatiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. 
 Lorenzo. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time, 
 Disguise us at my lodging, and return, 
 All in an hour. 
 
 Gratianp. We have not made good preparation. 
 Salarino. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. 
 Salanio. 'T is vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd, 
 And better, in my mind, not undertook. 
 
 Lorenzo. 'T is now but four o'clock; we have two hours 
 To furnish us. — 
 
 Enter Launcelot^ ivith a letter. 
 Friend Launcelot, what 's the news ? ® 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 49 
 
 Launcelot. An it shall please you to break up this, it 
 shall seem to signify. 
 
 Lorenzo. I know the hand : in faith, 't is a fair hand ; 
 And whiter than the paper it writ on 
 Is the fair hand that writ. 
 
 Gratiano. Love-news, in faith. 
 
 Launcelot. By your leave, sir. 
 
 Lorenzo. Whither goest thon ? 
 
 Launcelot. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to 
 sup to-night wdth my new master the Christian, 
 
 Lorenzo. Hold here, take this. — Tell gentle Jessica 
 I will not fail her ; — speak it privately. ^^ 
 
 Go. — Gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. 
 
 Will you prepare you for this masque to-night ? 
 I am provided of a torch-bearer. 
 
 Salarino. Ay, marry, I '11 be gone about it straight. 
 
 Salanio. And so will I. 
 
 Lorenzo. Meet me and Gratiano 
 
 At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 
 
 Salarino. 'T is good we do so. 
 
 [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 
 
 Gratiano. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ? 
 
 Lorenzo. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 
 
 How I shall take her from her father's house, ^^ 
 
 AVliat 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, 
 — 4 
 
50 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
 
 Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest. 
 
 Fair Jessica shall be mj torch-bearer. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. The Same. Before Sliyloch's House. 
 Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 
 Shyloch. Well, thou shalt see; thy eyes shall be thy 
 judge, 
 The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio: — 
 What, Jessica ! — thou shalt not gormandize, 
 As thou hast done with me, — what, Jessica ! — 
 And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out. — 
 Why, Jessica, I say ! 
 
 Launcelot. Why, Jessica ! 
 
 Shyloch. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call. 
 Launcelot. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do 
 nothing without bidding. 
 
 Enter Jessica. 
 
 Jessica. Call you? what is your will? ^° 
 
 ShylocTe. 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 'U go in hate, to feed upon 
 The prodigal Christian. — Jessica, my girl, 
 I^ook 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. - 
 
 Launcelot. I beseech you, sir, go ; my young master doth 
 expect your reproach. 20 
 
 ShylocTe. So do I his. 
 
THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 51 
 
 Launcelot. And they have conspired together; — I will 
 not say you shall see a masque; but if you do, then it 
 was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black- 
 Monday last at six o'clock i' the morning, falling out that 
 year on Ash- Wednesday was four year in the afternoon. 
 
 Shyloch. 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. 
 Clamber not you up to the casements then, ^^ 
 
 Nor thrust your head into the public street 
 To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces, 
 But stop my house's ears, — I mean my casements : 
 Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
 My sober house. — By Jacob's staff, I swear, 
 I have no mind of feasting forth to-night ; 
 But I will go. — Go you before me, sirrah ; 
 Say I will come. 
 
 Launcelot. I Avill go before, sir. — Mistress, look out at 
 window, for all this : *** 
 
 There will come a Christian by. 
 Will be worth a Jewess' eye. {Exit. 
 
 Shyloch. What says that fool of Llagar's offspring, ha ? 
 
 Jessica. Llis words were " Farewell, mistress ; " nothing 
 else. 
 
 Shyloclc. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder ; 
 Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
 More than a 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 
 
62 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Ilis borrow'd purse. — Well, Jessica, go in ; ^^ 
 
 Perhaps I will return immediately. 
 
 Do as I bid jou ; shut doors after jou : 
 
 Fast hind, fast find ; 
 
 A proverh never stale in thrifty mind, \^ExiL 
 
 Jessica. Farewell ; and if my fortune he not crost, 
 I have a father, you a daughter, lost. \_Exit. 
 
 Scene VI. The Same. 
 Enter Gratiano and Salaeino, masqued. 
 
 Gratiano. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 
 Desir'd us to make stand. 
 
 Salarino. His hour is almost past. 
 
 Gratiano. And it is marvel he outdwells his hour. 
 For lovers ever run before the clock. 
 
 Salarino. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
 To seal love's bonds new-made, than thej- are wont 
 To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 
 
 Gratiano. That ever holds. Who riseth from a feast 
 With that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
 Wliere is the horse that doth untread again ^^ 
 
 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 younger, 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! ^^ 
 
 Salarino. Here comes Lorenzo. — More of this hereafter. 
 
THE MEKCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 53 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 Lorenzo. Sweet friends, jour patience for my long 
 abode ; 
 xvTot I, but my affairs, have made jou wait : 
 When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
 I'll watch as long for you then. — Approach; 
 Here dwells my father Jew. — IIo ! who 's within ? 
 
 Enter Jessica, above, in hoy's clothes. 
 
 Jessica. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty, 
 Albeit I '11 swear that I do hnow your tongue. 
 
 Lorenzo. Lorenzo, and thy love. 
 
 Jessica. I^orenzo, certain ; and my love indeed, 
 For who love I so much ? And now who knows ^° 
 
 But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 
 
 Lorenzo. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou 
 art. 
 
 Jessica. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains. 
 I am glad 't is night, you do not look on me. 
 For I am much asham'd of my exchange: 
 But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
 The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 
 For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
 To see me thus transformed to a boy. 
 
 Lorenzo. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. ^^ 
 
 Jessica. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ? 
 They in themselves, good sooth, are too-too light. 
 Why, 't is an oiBce of discovery, love; 
 And I should be obscur'd. 
 
 Lorenzo. So are you, sweet, 
 
 Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
 
54 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 But come at once ; 
 
 For the close night doth, play the runaway, 
 
 And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 
 
 Jessica. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
 With some more ducats, and be with you straight. ^" 
 
 [Exit above. 
 
 Graiiano. !N'ow, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew. 
 
 Lorenzo. 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 prov'd herself ; 
 And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true. 
 Shall she be placed in my constant soul. — 
 
 Enter Jessica^ helow. 
 
 What, art thou come ? — On, gentlemen ; away ! 
 Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 
 
 [Exit with Jessica and Salarino. 
 
 Enter Antonio. 
 
 Antonio. Who's there? ^^ 
 
 Gratiano. Signior Antonio ! 
 
 Antonio. Fie, fie, Gratiano ! where are all the rest ? 
 'T is nine o'clock ; our friends all stay for you. 
 IsTo masque to-night : the wind is come about ; 
 Bassanio presently will go abroad. 
 I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 
 
 Gratiano. I am glad on 't ; I desire no more delight 
 Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 65 
 
 Scene VII. Belmont. A Room in Portia s House. 
 
 Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, ivHh the Peince of 
 Morocco, and their trains. 
 
 Portia. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover 
 The several caskets to this noble prince. — 
 Now make your choice. 
 
 Morocco. The first, of gold, who this inscription hears, 
 "Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." 
 The second, silver, which this promise carries, 
 "^Yho 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? ^^ 
 
 Portia. The one of them contains my picture, prince ; 
 If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
 
 Morocco. Some god direct my judgment ! Let me see ; 
 I will survey the inscriptions back again. 
 What says this leaden casket ? 
 
 "Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." 
 Must give — for what? Por 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 ; 2° 
 
 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 
 
56 
 
 THE CKANE CLASSICS 
 
 May not extend so far as to the lady : 
 
 And yet to be afeard of my deserving 
 
 Were bnt a weak disabling of myself. 
 
 As much as I deserve ? Why, that 's the lady : 
 
 I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes. 
 
 In graces and in qualities of breeding ; 
 
 But more than these, in love I do deserve. 
 
 What if I stray'd no further, but chose here ? — 
 
 Let 's see once more this saying grav'd in gold : 
 
 "Viho 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. 
 
 The Tlyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
 
 Of wide Arabia are as thoroughfares now 
 
 For princes to come view fair Portia. 
 
 The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
 
 Spets in the face of heaven, is no bar 
 
 To stop the foreigTi spirits, but they come, 
 
 As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 
 
 One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 
 
 Is't like that lead contains her? 'T were damnation 
 
 To think so base a thought; it were too gross 
 
 To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
 
 Or shall I think in silver she 's immur'd, 
 
 Being ten times undervalued to tried gold ? 
 
 O sinful thought! ISTever 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; 
 
 ao 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 5T 
 
 But here an angel in a golden bed 
 Lies all within. — Deliver me the ke.y ; 
 Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! ®° 
 
 Podia. There, take it, prince ; and if my form lie there, 
 Then I am yours. [He unlocJcs the golden cashet. 
 
 Morocco. O hell ! what have we here ? 
 
 A carrion death, within whose empty eye 
 There is a written scroll ! I '11 read the writing. 
 ''All that glisters is not gold; 
 Often have you heard that told: 
 Many a man his life hath sold. 
 But my outside to behold; 
 Oilded tombs do worms infold. 
 Had you been as wise as bold, "° 
 
 Young in limbs, in judgment old. 
 Your answer had not been inscroll'd: 
 Fare you well; your suit is cold." 
 Cold, indeed; and labour lost: 
 Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! 
 Portia, adieu ! I have too griev'd a heart 
 To take a tedious leave; thus losers part. 
 
 [Exit tvHh his train. 
 Portia. A gentle riddance. — Draw the curtains ; go. 
 Let all of his complexion choose me so. 
 
 \_Exeunt. Flourish of cornets. 
 
 Scene VIIL Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Salarino and Salanio. 
 Salarino. Why, man, I saw Bassauio under sail: 
 With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
 
58 THE CKANE CLASSICS 
 
 And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 
 
 Salanio. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the duke, 
 Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 
 
 Salarino. He came too late, the ship was under sail ; 
 But there the Duke was given to understand 
 That in a gondola were seen together 
 Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica : 
 
 Besides, Antonio certified the duke ^^ 
 
 They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 
 
 Salanio. I never heard a passion so confus'd, 
 So strange, outrageous, and so variable. 
 As the dog Jew did utter in the streets: 
 " My daughter ! my ducats ! 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; 
 She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats." 
 
 Salarino. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, 
 Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 
 
 Salanio. Let good Antonio look he keep his day. 
 Or he shall pay for this. 
 
 Salarino. Marry, well remember' d. 
 
 I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, 
 AVho told me, in the narrow seas that part 
 The French and English, there miscarried 
 A vessel of our country richly fraught. ^^ 
 
 I thought upon Antonio when he told me, 
 
THE MERCHANT OJ- TB^TICB 59 
 
 And wisli'd in silence that it were not his. 
 
 Salanio. Yon -were best to tell Antonio what you hear ; 
 Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 
 
 Salarino. 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 ; *° 
 
 And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
 Let it not enter in your mind of love. 
 Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts 
 To courtship, and such fair ostents of love 
 As shall conveniently become you there." 
 And even there, his eye being big with tears, 
 Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
 And with affection wondrous sensible 
 Pie wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted. 
 
 Salanio. I think he only loves the world for him. ^° 
 I pray thee, let us go and find him out. 
 And quicken his embraced heaviness 
 With some delight or other. 
 
 Salarino. Do we so. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IX. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 
 
 Enter ISTekissa with a Servitor. 
 Nerlssa. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain 
 straight : 
 The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, 
 And comes to his election presently. 
 
60 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Flourish of cornefs. Enter the Peince of Arraoon, 
 Portia, ajid their trains. 
 
 Portia. Behold, tliere stand the caskets, noble prince : 
 If _you choose that wherein I am contain'd, 
 Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd; 
 But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
 You must be gone from hence immediately. 
 
 Arragon. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: 
 First, never to unfold to any one ^^ 
 
 "Which casket 't was I chose ; next, if I fail 
 Of the right casket, never in my life 
 To woo a maid in way of marriage ; 
 Lastly, if I do fail in fortune of my choice, 
 Immediately to leave you and be gone. 
 
 Portia. To these injunctions every one doth swear 
 That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 
 
 Arragon. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now 
 To my heart's hope ! — Gold, silver, and base lead. 
 ''Who chooscih me must give and hazard all he hatli." '° 
 You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 
 What says the golden chest ? ha ! let me see : 
 "^Who chooseth me shall gain ivhat many men desire." 
 What many men desire ! that many may be meant 
 By the fool multitude, that choose by show, 
 Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach ; 
 Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, 
 Builds in the weather, on the outward wall. 
 Even in the force and road of casualty. 
 I will not choose what many men desire, ^^ 
 
 Because I will not jump with common spirits 
 
THE MEKCIIANT OF VENICE 
 
 61 
 
 And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 
 
 Wliy, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ; 
 
 Tell me once more what title thou dost bear : 
 
 "Who choosefh me shall get as much as he deserves:" 
 
 And well said too; for who shall go about 
 
 To cozen fortune and be honourable 
 
 Without the stamp of merit ? Let none presume 
 
 To wear an undeserved dignity. 
 
 O, that estates, degrees, and offices ^^ 
 
 Were not deriv'd corruptly, and that clear honour 
 
 Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer ! 
 
 How many then should cover that stand bare ! 
 
 How many be commanded that command ! 
 
 How much low peasantry would then be glcan'd 
 
 From the true seed of honour ; and how much honour 
 
 Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, 
 
 To be new-varnish'd ! Well, but to my choice: 
 
 "Who cJtoosclh me shall get as much as he deserves." 
 
 I will assume desert. — Give me a key for this, ^° 
 
 And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 
 
 [//e opens the silver casTxct. 
 
 Portia. Too long a pause for that which you find there. 
 
 Arragon. What 's here ? the portrait of a blinking idiot, 
 Presenting me a schedule ! I will read it. 
 How much unlike art thou to Portia ! 
 How much unlike my hopes and my deservings ! 
 "Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves." 
 Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
 Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better ? 
 
 Portia. To offend and judge are distinct offices, ^^ 
 
62 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 And of opposed natures. 
 
 Arragon. What is here ? 
 
 " The fire seven times tried this: 
 Seven times tried that judgment is, 
 That did never choose amiss. 
 Some there he that shadows Jciss; 
 Such have hut a shadow's hliss. 
 There he fools alive, I wis. 
 Silvered o'er; and so was this. 
 Take what wife you will to hed, 
 I will ever he your head: '*• 
 
 So he gone; you are sped.^' 
 Still more fool I shall appear 
 Bj 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 hear my wroth. 
 
 [Exeunt Arragon and train. 
 Portia. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. 
 0, these deliberate fools ! when they do choose, 
 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. *® 
 
 Nerissa. The ancient saying is no heresy, — 
 Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
 
 Portia. Come, draw the curtain, ISTerissa. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Servant. Where is my lady ? 
 
 Portia. Here ; what would my lord ? 
 
 Servant. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
 A young Venetian, one that comes before 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 63 
 
 To signify tlie approacliing of bis lord, 
 
 From whom lie briiigetli sensible regrets ; 
 
 To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 
 
 Gixts 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. 
 
 Portia. 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, ISTerissa ; for I long to see 
 Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. 
 
 Nerissa. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be ! ^°° 
 
 lExeunt. 
 
ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Salanio and Salaeino. 
 
 Salanio. ISTow, what news on the Rialto? 
 
 Salarino. Why, jet it lives there nnchecked th.at An- 
 tonio hath a ship of rich lading wracked on the narrow seas ; 
 the Goodwins, I think thev call the place : a very dangerons 
 flat and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie 
 buried, as they say, if my gossip Eeport be an honest 
 woman of her word. ''' 
 
 Salanio. I wonld she were as lying a gossip in that as 
 ever knapped ginger, or made her neighbours believe she 
 wept for the death of a third husband. But it is true, with- 
 out any slips of prolixity or crossing the plain highway of 
 talk, that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio, — that I 
 had a title good enough to keep his name company ! — 
 
 Salarino. Come, the full stop. 
 
 Salanio. Ha! what saj'est thou? — Why, the end is, he 
 hath lost a ship. 
 
 Salarino. I would it might prove the end of his losses ! 
 
 Salanio. Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross 
 my prayer ; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. — 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 How now, Shylock ? what news among the merchants ? "" 
 
 ShylocJi-. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of 
 my daughter's flight. 
 
 Salarino. That's certain; I, for my part, knew the 
 tailor that made the wings she flew withal. 
 
 (64) 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 65 
 
 Salanio. And Shylock, for his own part, knew tlie bird 
 was fledged ; and then it is the complexion of them all to 
 leave the dam. 
 
 Shyloch. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! ^* 
 
 Salarino. 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 ? 
 
 Shylock. There I have another bad match : a bankrupt, 
 a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto ; a 
 beggar, that was used to come so smug upon the mart ; let 
 him look to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; let 
 him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a 
 Christian courtesy ; let him look to his bond. 
 
 Salarino. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not 
 take his flesh ; wdiat 's that good for ? ^^ 
 
 Shylock. To bait fish withal ; if it will feed nothing else, 
 it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hin- 
 dered me half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at 
 my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled 
 my friends, heated mine enemies ; and what 's his reason ? 
 I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, 
 organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with 
 the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the 
 same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and 
 cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is ? 
 If you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you tickle us, do we not 
 laugh ? if you poison us, do we not die ? and if you wrong 
 us, shall we not revenge ? If we are like you in the rest, we 
 will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, 
 
 — 5 
 
66 THE CKANE CLASSICS 
 
 what is his humility ? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a 
 Jew, what should his sufferance he, hy Christian example ? 
 Why, revenge. The villany you teach me, I will execute ; 
 and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Servant. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, 
 and desires to speak with you both. ^° 
 
 Salavino. We have been up and down to seek him. 
 
 Enter Tubal. 
 
 Salanio. Here comes another of the tribe; a third can- 
 not be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. 
 
 l^Exeunt Salanio, Salarino, and Servant. 
 
 Shyloch. How, now. Tubal ? what news from Genoa ? 
 hast thou found my daughter ? 
 
 Tubal. I often came w^here I did hear of her, but can- 
 not find her. *'^ 
 
 Shyloch. Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond 
 gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort ! The 
 curse never fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it 
 till now ; tw^o thousand ducats in that ; and other precious, 
 precious jewels. I would my daughter were dead at my 
 foot, and the jewels in her ear ! Would she were hearsed 
 at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin ! 'No news of them ? 
 —Why, so; and I know not how much is spent in the 
 search : why, thou loss upon loss ! the thief gone with so 
 much, and so much to find the thief; and no satisfaction, 
 no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring but what lights o' mv 
 shoulders; no sighs but o' my breathing; no tears bu^ o' 
 my shedding. so 
 
THE MEKCHANT OF VENICE 67 
 
 Tubal. Yes, other men have ill luck, too. Antonio, as I 
 heard in Genoa, — 
 
 Shyloclc. What, what, what ? ill luck, ill luck ? 
 
 Tubal. Hath an argosj cast away, coming from Tripolis. 
 
 Shyloclc. I thank God ! I thank God ! Is it true ? is it 
 true ? 
 
 Tubal. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the 
 wrack. 
 
 Shyloclc. I thank thee, good Tubal ! — Good news, good 
 news ! ha, ha ! — Where ? in Genoa ? •" 
 
 Tubal. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one 
 night fourscore ducats. 
 
 Shyloclc. Thou stick'st a dagger in me. I shall never see 
 my gold again. Fourscore ducats at a sitting 1 fourscore 
 ducats ! 
 
 Tubal. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my 
 company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break. 
 
 Shylock. I am very glad of it. I'll plague him; I'll 
 torture him. I am glad of it. 
 
 Tubal. One of them showed me a ring that he had of 
 your daughter for a monkey. ^^^ 
 
 Shylock. 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. 
 
 Tubal. But Antonio is certainly undone. 
 
 Shyloch. ISTay, that 's true, that 's very true. Go, Tubal, 
 fee me an officer ; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will 
 have the heart of him, if he forfeits ; for, were he out of 
 Venice, I can make what merchandise I will. Go, go. 
 Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue: go, good Tubal; 
 at our synagogue, Tubal. lExeunt 
 
68 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 Scene II. Belmont. A Room in Portia s House. 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Portia, Geatiano, Neeissa, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 Portia. I pray yon, tarry: pause a day or two 
 Before yon hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
 I lose your company : therefore forbear a while. 
 There 's something tells me, but it is not love, 
 I wonld not lose yon ; and yon know yourself, 
 Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
 But lest you should not understand me well, — 
 And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, — ■ 
 I would detain _you here some month or two. 
 Before you venture for me. I could teach you 
 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'erlook'd me and divided me; 
 One half of me is yours, the other half yours, — 
 Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours. 
 And so all yours. O, these naughty times 
 Put bars between the owners and their rights ! 
 And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so. 
 Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 
 I speak too long ; but 't is to peize the time, 
 To eke it, and to draw it out in length, 
 To stay 3'ou from election. 
 
 Bassanio. Let me choose; 
 
 For as I am, I live ujDon the rack. 
 
 10 
 
THE MERCIIxVNT OF VEA^ICE 
 
 €9 
 
 Portia. Upon tlie rack, Bassauio ! then confess 
 What treason there is mino-led with yonr love. 
 
 Bassanio. ISTone bnt that ugly treason of mistrust, 
 Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love. 
 There may as well be amity and life ^^ 
 
 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 
 
 Portia. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack. 
 Where men enforced do speak any thing. 
 
 Bassanio. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. 
 
 Portia. Well then, confess and live. 
 
 Bassanio. Confess and love 
 
 ITad been the very sum of my confession. 
 O happy torment, when my torturer 
 T3oth teach me answers for deliverance ! 
 But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 
 
 Portia. Away, then ! I am lock'd in one of thom ; ^^ 
 If you do love me, you will find me out. — 
 ISTerissa 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 ^^ 
 
 As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear. 
 And summon him to marriage. Kow he goes. 
 With no less presence, but Avitli much more love. 
 
70 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 Than joung Alcides, when he did redeem 
 
 The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
 
 To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice ; 
 
 The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, 
 
 With bleared visages, come forth to view 
 
 The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules! ^^ 
 
 Live thou, I live. — With much more dismay 
 
 I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray. 
 
 A Song, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to him- 
 self. 
 
 Tell me where is fancy bred. 
 
 Or in the heart or in the head? 
 
 How begot, how nourished? 
 Reply, reply. 
 
 It is engender d in the eyes. 
 
 With gazing fed; and fancy dies 
 
 In the cradle where it lies. 
 
 Let us all ring fancy's Tcnell: "^^ 
 
 I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 
 
 All. Ding, dong, bell. 
 
 Bassanio. So may the outward shows be least themselves ; 
 The world is still deceiv'd 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 ? *° 
 
 There is no vice so simple but assumes 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 71 
 
 Some mark of virtue on liis outward parts: 
 
 How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
 
 As stairs of sand, wear yet upon tlieir chins • 
 
 The heards of Hercules and frowning iMars, 
 
 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 't is purchas'd by the weight, 
 
 ^Vliich therein works a miracle in nature, ^'^ 
 
 Making them lightest that wear most of it. 
 
 So are those crisped snaky golden locks, 
 
 ^Vliich make such w-anton gambols with the wind. 
 
 Upon supposed fairness, often known 
 
 To be the dowry of a second head. 
 
 The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. 
 
 Thus ornament is but a 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 ^^^ 
 
 To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold. 
 
 Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee ; 
 
 l^or 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 ! 
 
 Portia. l^Asidel How all the other passions fleet to air. 
 As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair. 
 And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! *^° 
 
 love ! be moderate ; allay thy ecstacy ; 
 
72 
 
 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 In measure rain thy joy ; scant tliid excess. 
 I feel too mucli thy blessing; make it less, 
 For fear I srirfeit. 
 
 Bassanio. What find I here ? 
 
 \_Opening the leaden casket. 
 Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demigod 
 Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ? 
 Or whether, riding on the halls of mine, 
 Seem they in motion ? Here are sever' d lips. 
 Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar 
 Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs ^^° 
 The painter plays the spider, and hath woven 
 A golden mesh 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, ^^° 
 
 "You that choose not by the view. 
 Chance as fair, and choose as true! 
 Since this fortune falls to you. 
 Be content and seeTc no new. 
 If you he luell pleas' d with this. 
 And hold your fortune for your hliss, 
 Turn you where your lady is. 
 And claim her with a loving hiss." 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 73 
 
 A gentle scroll. — Fair lady, by your leave ; 
 
 I come by note, to give and to receive. l_Kissing her. 
 
 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 pearls 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. 
 
 Portia. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 
 Such as I am: tliough for myself alone ^^" 
 
 I would not be ambitious in my wish, 
 To wish myself much better, yet for you 
 I would be trebled twenty times myself, 
 A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich, 
 That 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 nothing ; which, to term in gross. 
 Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd: 
 Happy in this, she is not yet so old ^^^ 
 
 But she may learn ; happier than this. 
 She is not bred so dull but she can learn; 
 Happiest of all in that her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
 As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
 Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
 Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
 Of this fair mansion, master of my servants. 
 
74 
 
 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 
 
 This house, these servants, and this same myself ^'° 
 
 Are yours, my lord. I give them with this ring ; 
 
 ^Vhich when you part from, lose, or give away, 
 
 Let it presage the ruin of your love. 
 
 And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 
 
 Bassanio. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
 Only my blood speaks to you in my veins ; 
 And there is such confusion in my powers 
 As, after some oration fairly spoke 
 By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
 Among the buzzing pleased multitude, ^*® 
 
 Where every something, being blent together, 
 Turns to a Avild of nothing, save of joy, 
 Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring 
 Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence; 
 O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead ! 
 
 Nerissa. 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 ! 
 
 Gratiano. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
 I wish you all the joy that 3'ou can wish, 1^" 
 
 For I am sure you can wish none from me ; 
 And when your honors mean to solemnize 
 The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
 Even at that time I may be married too. 
 
 Bassanio. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 
 
 Gratiano. 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 ; 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 75 
 
 You lov'd, I lov'd; for intermission 
 
 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. ^°*^ 
 
 Your fortune stood upon the caskets there, 
 
 And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; 
 
 Tor wooing here until I sweat again, 
 
 And swearing until 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 
 
 Achiev'd her mistress. 
 
 Portia. Is this true, Nerissa? 
 
 Nerissa. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. 
 
 Bassanio. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? ^^^ 
 
 Gratiano. Yes, faith, my lord. 
 
 Bassanio. Our feast shall be much honor'd in your 
 
 marriage. 
 ^Gratiano. But who comes here? Lorenzo and his in- 
 fidel? 
 What ! and my old Venetian friend, Salerio ? 
 
 Enter Lokenzo, Jessica, and Saleeio, a messenger 
 from Venice. 
 
 Bassanio. 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. 
 
 Portia. So do I, my lord; 
 
 They are entirely welcome. ^^" 
 
 Lorenzo. I thank your honour. — ^For my part, my lord. 
 My purpose was not to have seen you here; 
 
76 THE CKANE CLASSICS 
 
 But meeting with Salerio by the way, 
 He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 
 To come Avith him along. 
 
 Salerio. I did, my lord; 
 
 And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
 Commends him to you. l_Gives Bassanio a letter. 
 
 Bassanio. Ere I ope his letter, 
 
 I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 
 
 Salerio. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 
 JSTor well, unless in mind : his letter there ^^^ 
 
 Will show you his estate. 
 
 Gratiano. l^erissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her wel- 
 come. — 
 Your hand, Salerio ; what 's the news from Venice ? 
 How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 
 I know he will be glad of our success ; 
 We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 
 
 Salerio. I would you had won the fleece that he hath 
 lost ! 
 
 Portia. There are some shrewd contents in yon same 
 paper. 
 That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek: 
 Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world ^^^ 
 
 Could turn so much the constitution 
 Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ? — 
 With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself. 
 And I must freely have the half of any thing 
 That this same paper brings you. 
 
 Bassanio. O sweet Portia, 
 
 Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady, 
 
 A\Tien I did first impart my love to you, 
 
 I freely told you, all tlie wealth I had 
 
 Ran in my veins — I was a gentleman : 
 
 And then I told you true ; and yet, dear lady, 
 
 Rating myself at nothing, you shall see 
 
 How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
 
 My state was nothing, I should then have told you 
 
 That I was worse than nothing; for indeed 
 
 I have engag'd myself to a dear friend, 
 
 Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy. 
 
 To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady; 
 
 The paper as the body of my friend. 
 
 And every word in it a gaping wound, 
 
 Issuing life-blood. — But is it true, Salerio? 
 
 Have all his ventures f ail'd ? Wliat, not one hit ? 
 
 From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 
 
 From Lisbon, Barbary, and India, 
 
 And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch 
 
 Of merchant-marring rocks ? 
 
 Salerio. ISTot one, my lord. 
 
 Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
 The present money to discharge the Jew, 
 He would not take it. ISTever 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. 
 The duke himself, and the magnificoes 
 
 77 
 
 260 
 
78 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Of greatest port, have all persuaded witli tim ; 
 
 But none can drive him from the envious plea 
 
 Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 
 
 Jessica. When I was with him I have heard him swear 
 
 To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, ^^" 
 
 That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
 
 Than twenty times the value of the sum 
 
 That he did owe him ; and I know, my lord, 
 
 If law, authority, and power deny not, \ 
 
 It will go hard with poor Antonio. 
 
 Portia. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble ? 
 Bassanio. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man. 
 
 The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit 
 
 In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 
 
 The ancient Koman honour more appears ^*® 
 
 That any that draws breath in Italy. 
 Portia. What sum owes he the Jew ? 
 Bassanio. Eor me, three thousand ducats. 
 Portia. What, no more? 
 
 Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; 
 Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
 Before a friend of this description 
 Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
 First go with me to church and call me wife, 
 And then away to Venice to your friend ; 
 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 ISTerissa and myself, mean time. 
 
THE :NrERCHANT OF VEls^ICE 
 
 70 
 
 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. ^^® 
 
 Bassanio. [B.eads] "8iueet Bassanio, my ships have all 
 miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, 
 my land to the Jew is forfeit; and since, in paying it, it is 
 impossible I should live, all debts are cleared between you 
 and I, if I might see you at my death. Notwithstanding, 
 use your pleasure; if your love do not persuade you to 
 come, let not my letter.''^ 
 
 Portia. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone ! 
 
 Bassanio. Since I have your good leave to go away, 
 I will make haste ; but, till I come again, 
 
 1^0 bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, ^"^^ 
 
 Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. Venice. A Street. 
 Enter Siiylock, Salarino, Antonio, and Gaoler. 
 Shyloclc. Gaoler, look to him ; tell not me of mercy. — 
 This is the fool that lends out money gratis. — 
 Gaoler, look to him. 
 
 Antonio. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 
 
 Shyloch. 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, bew^are my fangs. 
 The duke shall grant me justice. — I do wonder, 
 
80 THE OKANE CLASSICS 
 
 Thou nauglity gaoler, that thou art so fond 
 
 To come abroad with him at his request. *^ 
 
 Antonio. I pray thee, hear me speak. 
 
 Sliylock. I '11 have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : 
 I '11 have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
 I '11 not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
 To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
 To Christian intercessors. Follow not; 
 I '11 have no speaking : I will have my bond. [Exit. 
 
 Salarino. It is the most impenetrable cur 
 That ever kept with men. 
 
 Antonio. Let him alone; 
 
 I '11 follow him no more with bootless prayers. ^^ 
 
 He seeks my life; his reason well I know. 
 I oft deliver' d from his forfeitures 
 Many that have at times made moan to me; 
 Therefore he hates me. 
 
 Salarino. I am sure the duke 
 
 Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 
 
 Antonio. 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 ^° 
 
 Consisteth of all nations. Therefore go; 
 These griefs and losses have so bated me 
 That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 
 To-morrow to my bloody creditor. — 
 Well, gaoler, on. — Pray God, Bassanio come 
 To see me pay his debt, and then I care not ! [Exeunt. 
 
THE MEKCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 81 
 
 Scene IV. Belmont. A Room in Portia s House. 
 Enter Poktia, ISTerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Bal- 
 
 THASAE. 
 
 Lorenzo. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 
 You have a noble and a true conceit 
 Of godlike 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. 
 
 Portia. I never did repent for doing good, ^® 
 
 Nor shall not now; for in companions 
 That do converse and waste the time together. 
 Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, 
 There must be needs a like proportion 
 Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit; 
 Which makes me think that this Antonio, 
 Being the bosom lover of my lord. 
 Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, 
 How little is the cost I have bestow'd 
 In purchasing the semblance of my soul *" 
 
 From out the state of hellish cruelty ! 
 This comes too near the praising of myself; 
 Therefore no more of it: hear other things, 
 Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
 The husbandry and manage of my house ' 
 
 Until my lord's return ; for mine own part, 
 
82 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 I have toward Leaven breath' d a secret vow 
 
 To live in prayer and contemplation, 
 
 Only attended by IN'erissa here, 
 
 Until her husband and my lord's return. *** 
 
 There is a monastery two miles off, 
 
 And there Avill we abide. I do desire you 
 
 Not to deny this imposition, 
 
 The which my love and some necessity 
 
 Now lays upon you. 
 
 Lorenzo. Madam, with all my heart ; 
 
 I shall obey you in all fair commands. 
 
 Portia. 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. *^ 
 
 Lorenzo. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you ! 
 
 Jessica. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
 
 Portia. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas'd 
 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 ; ^® 
 
 And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee. 
 Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed 
 Unto the tranect, to the common ferry 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 83 
 
 Wliicli trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, 
 But get thee gone ; I shall be there before thee. 
 
 Balthasar. Madam, I go with all convenient speed, 
 
 \_Exit. 
 
 Portia. Come on, ISTerissa ; I have work in hand 
 That jou jet know not of. We '11 see our husbands 
 Before they think of us. 
 
 Nerissa. Shall they see us ? 
 
 Portia. They shall, N"erissa, but in such a habit, ^^ 
 
 That they shall think we are accomplished 
 With that we lack. I '11 hold thee any wager, 
 When we are both accoutred like young men, 
 I '11 prove the prettier fellow of the two. 
 And wear my dagger with the 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, 
 Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 
 I could not do withal : then I '11 repent, 
 And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them. 
 And twenty of these puny lies I '11 tell. 
 That men shall swear I have discontinued school 
 Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 
 A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
 Which I will practice. 
 
 But come, I '11 tell thee all my whole device 
 When I am in my coach, which stays for us ^® 
 
 At the park gate; and therefore haste away. 
 For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [Exeunt. 
 
84 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Scene V. The Same. A Garden. 
 Enter Launcelot and Jessica. 
 
 Launcelot. Yes, truly; for, look jon, the sins of the 
 father are to be laid upon the children : therefore, I prom- 
 ise you, I fear you. I was always plain with you, and so 
 now I speak my agitation of the matter; therefore be of 
 good cheer, for truly I think you are damned. There is 
 but one hope in it that can do you any good. 
 
 Jessica. And what hope is that, I pray thee? 
 
 Launcelot. Marry, you may partly hope that you are not 
 the Jew's daughter. ® 
 
 Jessica. So the sins of my mother should be visited upon 
 me. 
 
 Launcelot. Truly then I fear you are damned both by 
 father and mother; thus when I shun Scylla, your father, 
 I '11 fall into Charybdis, your mother : well, you are gone 
 both ways. 
 
 Jessica. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made 
 me a Christian. 
 
 Launcelot. Truly, the more to blame he: we were Chris- 
 tians enow, before ; e'en as many as could well live, one by 
 another. This making of Christians will raise the price of 
 hogs ; if Ave grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly 
 have a rasher on the coals for money. ^^ 
 
 Enter Lorenzo. 
 
 Jessica. I '11 tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say ; 
 here he comes. 
 
 Lorenzo. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot. 
 
 Jessica. ISTay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo ; Launcelot 
 and I are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for me 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 86 
 
 in heaven, iDecanse I am a Jew's clangliter ; and lie says, von 
 are no good member of the commonwealth, for in converting 
 Jews to Christians jou raise the price of pork. ^'^ 
 
 Lorenzo. I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn 
 into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none only 
 but parrots. — Go in, sirrah ; bid them prepare for dinner. 
 
 Launcelot. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 
 - Lorenzo. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you ! 
 then bid them prepare dinner. 
 
 Launcelot. That is done too, sir; only, cover is the word. 
 
 Lorenzo. Will you cover then, sir ? 
 
 Jjauncelot. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty. 
 
 Lorenzo. Yet more quarreling with occasion ! Wilt thou 
 show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant ? I pray 
 thee, understand a plain man in his plain meaning: go to 
 thy fellows; bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, 
 and we Avill come in to dinner. ' ■** 
 
 Launcelot. For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for 
 the meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your coming in to din- 
 ner, sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Lorenzo. O dear discretion, how his words are suited ! 
 The fool hath planted in his memory 
 An army of good words ; and I do know *•" 
 
 A many fools, that stand in better place, 
 Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
 Defy the matter. — How cheer'st thou, Jessica ? 
 And now, good sweet, say thy opinion. 
 How dost thou like the lord Bassanio's wife ? 
 
 Jessica. Past all expressing. It is very meet 
 
86 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 The lord Bassanio live an upright life; 
 
 For, having such a blessing in his lady, 
 
 He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ; 
 
 And if on earth he do not mean it, then •** 
 
 In reason he should never come to heaven. 
 
 ^Vhy, 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. 
 
 Lorenzo. Even such a husband 
 
 Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 
 
 Jessica. ISTay, but ask my opinion too of that. 
 
 Lorenzo. I will anon ; first, let us go to dinner. 
 
 Jessica. ]^ay, let me praise you while I have a 
 stomach. "^^ 
 
 Lorenzo. 'No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk; 
 Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things 
 I shall digest it 
 
 Jessica. Well, I '11 set you forth. [Exeunt. 
 
ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. Venice. A Court of Justice. 
 
 Enter the Duke, Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, 
 Gratiano, Saleeio, and others. 
 
 DuTce. What, is Antonio here ? 
 
 Antonio. Ready, so please your grace. 
 
 Dulx. I am sorry for thee ; thou art come to answer 
 A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
 Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
 From any dram of mercy. 
 
 Antonio. I have heard 
 
 Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
 His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate. 
 And that no lawful means can carry me 
 Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose ^® 
 
 My patience to his fury, and am arm'd 
 To suffer, with a quietness of spirit. 
 The very tyranny and rage of his. 
 
 Dul'e. Go one, and call the JeAv into the court. 
 
 Salerio. He is ready at the door ; he comes, my lord. 
 
 Enter Shylock. 
 
 Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face. — 
 Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too. 
 That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
 To the last hour of act ; and then 't is thought 
 Thou 'It show thy mercy and remorse, more strange "^^ 
 Than is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 
 And where thou now exact'st the penalty, 
 
 (87) 
 
0(3 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 ^Vllicll 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 ^° 
 
 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. 
 
 Shyloch. 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 *^ 
 
 A weight of carrion flesh than to receive 
 Three thousand ducats. I'll not answer that; 
 But, say, it is my humour : is it answer'd ? 
 ^Yliat if my house be troubled with a rat, 
 And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 
 To have it ban'd ? What, are you answer'd yet ? 
 Some men there are love not a gaping pig; 
 Some, that are mad if they behold a cat: 
 Masters of passion sway it to the mood 
 Of what it likes or loathes. ISTow, for your answer : ^" 
 
 As there is no firm reason to be render'd 
 Why he cannot abide a gaping pig. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 89 
 
 Whj he a harmless necessary cat, 
 
 So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 
 
 More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing 
 
 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
 
 A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 
 
 Bassanio. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man. 
 To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 
 
 Shylock. I am not bound to please thee with my answer. 
 
 Bassanio. Do all men kill the things they do not love ? 
 
 Shylock. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ? 
 
 Bassanio. Every offence is not a hate at first. ^^ 
 
 Shylock. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee 
 twice ? 
 
 Antonio. I pray you, think you question with the Jew. 
 You may as well go stand upon the boach. 
 And bid the main flood bate his usual height; 
 You may as well use question with the wolf 
 Why he hath made the CAve bleat for the lamb ; 
 You may as well forbid the mountain pines '° 
 
 To wag their high tops and to make no noise, 
 ^\Tien they are fretted with the gusts of heaven; 
 You may as well do anything most hard, 
 As seek to soften that — than which what's harder? — 
 His Jewish heart. Therefore, I do beseech you, 
 Make no more offers, use no farther means. 
 But with all brief and plain conveniency 
 Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 
 
 Bassanio. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 
 
 Shylock. If every ducat in six thousand ducats ^^ 
 
90 THE CKAXE CLASSICS 
 
 Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
 
 I would not draw tliem ; I would have my bond, 
 
 Duke. How slialt thou hope for mercy, rendering none ? 
 
 ShylocJc. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong ? 
 You have among you many a purchas'd slave. 
 Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
 You use in abject and in slavish parts. 
 Because you bought them : shall I say to you. 
 Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
 Why sweat they under burthens ? let their beds ®® 
 
 Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
 Be season'd with such viands? You will answer. 
 The slaves are ours. — So do I answer you : 
 The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 
 Is dearly bought; 't is mine, and I will have it. 
 If you deny me, fie upon your law ! 
 There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
 I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it ? 
 
 Duke. Upon my poAver I may dismiss this court, 
 Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, ^'^^ 
 
 Whom I have sent for to determine this. 
 Come here to-day. 
 
 Salerio. My lord, here stays without 
 
 A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
 j^ew come from Padua. 
 
 Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 
 
 Bassanio. 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. 
 
THE MEECHANT OF VENICE 61 
 
 Antonio. I am a tainted wether of ttie flock, 
 Meetest for deatli; tlie weakest kind of fruit ^^^ 
 
 Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me. 
 You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, 
 Than to live still and write mine epitaph. 
 
 Enter ISTeeissa^ dressed like a lawyer s clerk. 
 
 Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 
 
 Nerissa. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your 
 grace. [^Presenting a letter. 
 
 Bassanio. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly ? 
 
 Shylock. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. 
 
 Gratiano. ISTot on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
 Thou mak'st thy knife keen ; but no metal can, 
 i!^o, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness ^^" 
 
 Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee ? 
 
 Shylock. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. 
 
 Gratiano. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog! 
 And for thy life let justice be accus'd ! 
 Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith. 
 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
 That souls of animals infuse themselves 
 Into the trunks of men. Thy currish spirit 
 Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter, 
 Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, ^^^ 
 
 And, while thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, 
 Inf us'd itself in thee ; for thy desires 
 Are wolvish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. 
 
 Shijlock. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond. 
 Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud. 
 
92 THE CEAXE CLASSICS 
 
 Repair thy wit, good yoiitli, or it will fall 
 To cureless ruin. — I stand here for law. 
 
 Dul'e. This letter from Bellario doth commend 
 A young and learned doctor to our court. — 
 Where is he ? 
 
 Nerissa. He attendeth here hard by, ^'**' 
 
 To know your answer, whether you '11 admit him. 
 
 Duke. With all my heart. — Some three or four of you 
 Go give him courteous conduct to this place. — 
 Mean time, the court shall hear Bellario's letter. ^'^^ 
 
 Clerk. [Eeads] " Your grace shall understand that at 
 the receipt of your letter I am very sick: hut in the instant 
 that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me 
 a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthasar. I ac- 
 quainted him with the cause in controversy hetiueen the 
 Jew and Antonio the merchant; ive turned o'er many 
 hooks together: he is furnished with my opinion, ivhich, 
 hettered with his own learning, the greatness luhereof I 
 cannot enough commend, comes ivith him, at my impor- 
 tunity, to fill up your grace's recjuest in my stead. I he- 
 seech you, let his lack of years he no impediment to let liim 
 lack a reverend estimation ; for I never knew so young a 
 hody with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious ac- 
 ceptance, ivhose trial shall hetter puhlish his commenda- 
 tion." 
 
 Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes ; ^^'^ 
 And here, I take it, is the doctor come. — 
 
 Enter Portia^ dressed like a doctor of laws. 
 Give me your hand. Came you from old Bellario ? 
 Portia. I did, my lord. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 93 
 
 Duhe. Yon are welcome ; take your place. 
 
 Are you acquainted with the difference 
 That holds this present question in the court ? 
 
 Portia. I am informed thoroughly of the cause. 
 Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew ? 
 
 DiiJce. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 
 
 Portia. Is your name Shylock ? 
 
 ShylocJc. Shylock is my name. 
 
 Portia. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow, ^'^ 
 Yet in such rule that the Yenetian law 
 Tannot impugn you as you do proceed. — 
 You stand within his danger, do you not ? 
 
 Antonio. Ay, so he says. 
 
 Portia. Do you confess the bond? 
 
 Antonio. I do. 
 
 Portia. Then must the Jew be" merciful. 
 
 Shyloclc. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 
 
 Portia. 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. ^^^ 
 
 'T is mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes 
 The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
 His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
 The attribute to awe and majesty, 
 Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
 But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
 It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
 It is an attribute to God himself; 
 And eartlily power doth then show likest God's 
 
94 
 
 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, ^^^ 
 
 Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 
 
 That, in the course of justice, none of us 
 
 Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy, 
 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 
 The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 
 
 To mitigate the justice of thy plea, 
 
 "Wliich if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
 
 Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 
 
 ShylocJc. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law. 
 The penalty and forfeit of my bond. ^^° 
 
 Portia. Is he not able to discharge the money? 
 
 Bassanio. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court ; 
 Yea, twice the sum ; if that will not suffice, 
 I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 
 On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart ; 
 If this will not suffice, it must appear 
 That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, 
 Wrest once the law to 3'our authority; 
 To do a great right, do a little wrong. 
 And curb this cruel devil of his will. ^^*^ 
 
 Portia. It must not be. There is no power in Venice 
 Can alter a decree established ; 
 'T will be recorded for a precedent. 
 And many an error by the same example 
 Will rush into the state. It cannot be. 
 
 81iylock. A Daniel come to judgTaent ! yea, a Daniel ! 
 O wise young judge, how do I honour thee ! 
 
 Portia. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 
 
 ShylocTc. Here 't is, most reverend doctor, here it is. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 95 
 
 Portia. Shylock, there 's thrice thy money offer' d thee. 
 
 Shylock. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven ; ^^^ 
 Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ? 
 ]S[o, not for Venice. 
 
 Portia. Why, this bond is forfeit; 
 
 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
 A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
 jSTearest the merchant's heart. — Be merciful: 
 Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 
 
 Shylock. When it is paid according to tlie tenour. 
 
 It doth appear you are a worthy judge; 
 
 You know the law; your exposition ^^^ 
 
 Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, 
 
 Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar. 
 
 Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear. 
 
 There is no power in the tongue of man 
 
 To alter me. I stay here on my bond. 
 
 Antonio. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
 To give the judgment. 
 
 Portia. Why then, thus it is: 
 
 You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 
 
 Shyloch. O noble judge! O excellent young man! 
 
 Portia. For the intent and purpose of the law ^^° 
 
 Hath full relation to the penalty. 
 Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 
 
 Shyloch. 'T is very true. wise and upright judge ! 
 How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! 
 
 Portia. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 
 
 Shylock. Ay, his breast ; 
 
 So says the bond — doth it not, noble judge ? — 
 Xearest his heart ; those are the very words. 
 
96 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Portia. It is so. Are there balance here to weigli 
 The flesh? 
 
 Shyloch. I have them ready. 
 
 Portia. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on yoi\r charge, 
 To stop the wounds, lest he do bleed to death, ^^^ 
 
 Shylock. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 
 
 Portia. It is not so express'd ; but what of that ? 
 'T were good you do so much for charity. 
 
 Shyloch. I cannot find it; 't is not in the bond, 
 
 Portia. You, merchant, have you any thing to say ? 
 
 Antonio. But little ; I am arm'd and well prepar'd. — 
 Give me your hand, Bassanio ; fare you well ! 
 Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you; 
 For herein Fortune shows herself more kind ^'^^ 
 
 Than is her custom : it is still her use 
 To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
 To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 
 An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
 Of such miser}^ doth she cut me off. 
 Commend me to your honourable wife: 
 Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 
 Say how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death ; 
 And when the tale is told bid her be judge 
 Whether Bassanio had not once a love. ^''^ 
 
 Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 
 And he repents not that he pays your debt; 
 For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
 I '11 pay it instantly with all my heart. 
 
 Bassanio. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
 AVliich is as dear to me as life itself: 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 97 
 
 But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
 
 Are not to me esteem'd above tlij life: 
 
 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
 
 Here to this devil, to deliver you. ^^® 
 
 Portia. Your wife would give you little thanks for that. 
 If she were by to hear you make the offer. 
 
 Gratiano. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love; 
 I would she were in heaven, so she could 
 Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 
 
 Nerissa. 'T is well you offer it behind her back; 
 The wish would make else an unquiet house. 
 
 Sliyloch. \_Aside] These be the Christian husbands. I 
 have a daughter ; 
 Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
 
 Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! — ^^^ 
 [To Portia] We trifle time ; I pray thee, pursue sentence. 
 
 Portia. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine ; 
 The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 
 
 ShylocJc. Most rightful judge ! 
 
 Portia. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast ; 
 The law allows it, and the court awards it, 
 
 Shyloch. Most learned judge! — A sentence! Come, 
 prepare ! 
 
 Portia. 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 
 
 — 7 
 
98 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 
 Unto the state of Venice. 
 
 Gratiano. O upright jnclge ! — Mark, Jew ! — learned 
 judge ! 
 
 Slnjlock. Is that the law ? 
 
 Portia. Thyself shall see the act ; 
 
 For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd 
 Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. 
 
 Graiiano. O learned judge ! — Mark, Jew ! — a learned 
 judge! ' 2^" 
 
 ShylocJc. I take this offer, then ; pay the bond thrice, 
 And let the Christian go. 
 
 Bassanio. Here is the money. 
 
 Portia. Soft ! 
 The Jew shall have all justice; — soft! no haste: — 
 He shall have nothing but the penalty. 
 
 Gratiano. O Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge ! 
 
 Portia. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
 Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less nor more 
 But just a pound of flesh : if thou tak'st more 
 Or less than a just pound, be it but so much ^^^ 
 
 As makes it light or heavy in the substance. 
 Or the division of the twentieth part 
 Of one poor scruple — nay, if the scale do turn 
 But in the estimation of a hair, 
 Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. 
 
 Gratiano. A second. Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
 N^ow, infidel, I have thee on the hip. 
 
 Portia. Why doth the Jew pause? — Take thy for- 
 feiture. 
 
THE MEKCHANT OF VENICE 99 
 
 330 
 
 Sliylock. Give me my principal, and let me go. 
 
 Bassanio. I have it ready for tliee ; liere it is. 
 
 Portia. He hath refus'd it in the open court ; 
 He shall have merely justice, and his bond. 
 
 Gratiano. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel ! 
 I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 
 
 ShylocJc. Shall I not have barely my principal ? 
 
 Portia. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture. 
 To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 
 
 ShylocTc. Why, then the devil give him good of it ! 
 I '11 stay no longer question. 
 
 Portia. Tarry, Jew ; 
 
 The law hath yet another hold on you. ^*° 
 
 It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
 If it be prov'd against an alien 
 That by direct or indirect attempts 
 He seek the life of any citizen, 
 The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
 Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 
 Comes to the privy coffer of the state ; 
 And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
 Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
 In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st; ^^® 
 
 For it appears, by manifest proceeding, 
 That indirectly, and directly too, 
 Thou hast contriv'd against the very life 
 Of the defendant, and thou hast incurr'd 
 The danger formerly by me rehears'd. 
 Down therefore, and beg mercy of the duke. 
 
 LOFC. 
 
100 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Gratiano. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thy- 
 self: 
 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. ^'''^ 
 
 DiiJce. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits, 
 I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it. 
 For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's; 
 The other half comes to the general state, 
 Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 
 
 Portia. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 
 
 Shyloclc. 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. ^^^ 
 
 Portia. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? 
 
 Gratiano. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake. 
 
 Antonio. So please my lord the duke and all the court 
 To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
 I am content, so he will let me have 
 The other half in use, to render it. 
 Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
 That lately stole his daughter: 
 Two things provided more, — that, for this favour. 
 He presently become a Christian ; 2^° 
 
 The other, that he do record a gift. 
 Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, 
 Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 
 
 Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 
 The pardon that I late pronounced here. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 101 
 
 Portia. Art tliou contented, Jew? what dost tlioii say? 
 
 ShylocJi. I am content. 
 
 Portia. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 
 
 ShylocJc. I pray you, give me leave to go from lience ; 
 I am not well. Send the deed after me, 
 And I will sign it. 
 
 DuTxe. Get thee gone, hut do it. ^^" 
 
 Gratiano. In christening thou shalt have two godfathers ; 
 Had I been judge, thou shoiildst have had ten more, 
 To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. \^Exit ShyJock. 
 
 Duke. Sir, I entreat you home M'ith me to dinner. 
 
 Portia. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon ; 
 I must away this night toward Padua, 
 And it is meet I presently set forth, 
 
 DuJce. 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. 
 Bassanio. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
 Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
 Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof 
 Tliree thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
 We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 
 
 Antonio. And stand indebted, over and above 
 In love and service to you evermore. 
 
 Portia. He is well paid that is Avell satisfied; 
 And I, delivering you, am satisfied, 
 
 And therein do account myself Avell paid : ^^° 
 
 IMy mind was never yet more mercenary. 
 T pray ,you, know mc wlien we meet again; 
 I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 
 
302 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Bassanio. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you f urtlier ; 
 Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
 ISTot as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you, 
 Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 
 
 Portia. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. — 
 [To Antoniol Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for 
 
 your sake ; — 
 [To Bassanio'] And, for your love, I '11 take this ring from 
 you.— ''^o 
 
 Do not draw back your hand ; I '11 take no more. 
 And you in love shall not deny me this. 
 
 Bassanio. This ring, good sir, — alas! it is a trifle; 
 I will not shame myself to give you this. 
 
 Portia. I will have nothing else but only this; 
 And now methinks I have a mind to it. 
 
 Bassanio. 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. *"''" 
 
 Portia. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers ; 
 You taught me first to beg, and now methinks 
 You teach mc how a beggar should be answer'd. 
 
 Bassanio. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; 
 And when she put it on she made me vow 
 That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. 
 
 Portia. That 'sense serves many men to save their gifts ; 
 And if your wife be not a mad woman. 
 And know how well I have deserv'd the ring, 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 103 
 
 She would not hold out enemy for ever, **° 
 
 For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! 
 
 \^ExGunt Portia and Nerissa. 
 
 Antonio. My lord Bassanio, let him have the ring; 
 Let his deservings and my love withal 
 Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandcmcnt. 
 
 Bassanio. 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 wdll we both 
 Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. The Same. A Street. 
 E liter PoKTiA ajid I^erissa. 
 Portia. 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. 
 
 Gratiano. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en; 
 My lord Bassanio, upon more advice, 
 Llath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat 
 Your company at dinner. 
 
 Portia. That cannot be. 
 
 His ring I do accept most thankfully, 
 And so, I pray you, tell him ; furthermore, ^^ 
 
 I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. 
 
104 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Gratiano. That will I do. 
 
 Nerissa. Sir, I would speak with you. — 
 
 I Aside to Portia'] I '11 see if I can get my husband's ring, 
 Wliich I did make him swear to keep for ever. 
 
 Portia. \_Aside to Nerissa] Thou mayst, I warrant. Wo 
 shall have old swearing 
 That they did give the rings away to men; 
 But we '11 outface them, and outswear them too. 
 Away ! make haste ; thou know'st where I will tarry. 
 
 Nerissa. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house ? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. Belmont. Avenue to Portia's House. 
 Enter Loeenzo and Jessica. 
 
 Lorenzo. The moon shines bright. In snch a night as 
 this, 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
 And they did make no noise — in such a night, 
 Troihis methinks monnted the Trojan walls, 
 And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
 "Wliere Cressid lay that night. 
 
 Jessica. In such a night. 
 
 Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew, 
 And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, 
 And ran dismay'd away. 
 
 Lorenzo. In such a night. 
 
 Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 
 Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love 
 To come again to Carthage. 
 
 Jessica. In such a night, 
 
 ]\redea gather'd the enchanted herbs 
 That did renew old ^son. 
 
 Tjorenzo. In such a night. 
 
 Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, 
 And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 
 As far as Belmont. 
 
 Jessica. In such a night. 
 
 Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well. 
 Stealing her soul with many vows of faith. 
 And ne'er a true one. 
 
 (105) 
 
106 
 
 TJIE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Lorenzo. In sucli a night, ^° 
 
 Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
 Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 
 
 Jessica. I would out-night jou, did nobody come ; 
 But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 
 
 Enter Stepiiano. 
 
 Lorenzo. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ? 
 
 Slephano. A friend. 
 
 Lorenzo. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray 
 you, friend ? 
 
 Stephano. Stephano is my name, and I bring word 
 My mistress will before the break of day 
 Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about ^^ 
 
 By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
 For happy wedlock hours. 
 
 Lorenzo. Who comes with her ? 
 
 Stephano. !N^one but a holy hermit and her maid. 
 T pray you, is my master yet return'd ? 
 
 Lorenzo. 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 Lauxcelot. 
 
 Launcelot. Sola, sola ! wo ha, ho ! sola, sola I 
 
 Lorenzo. Wlio calls? *^ 
 
 Launcelot. Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo and Mis- 
 tress TiOrenzo ? sola, sola ! 
 
 Lorenzo. Leave hollaing, man ; here. 
 
 Launcelot. Sola ! where ? where ? 
 
 Lorenzo. Here. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 107 
 
 Launcelof. Tell liim there's a post come from my mas- 
 ter, with his horn full of good news; my master will be 
 here ere morning'. [Exit. 
 
 Lorenzo. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their 
 coming. 
 And yet no matter ; why should we go in ? — ''" 
 
 My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you. 
 Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 
 And bring your music forth into the air. — \_Exit Stephano. 
 How^ sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears ; soft stillness and the night 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 
 There 's not the smallest orb Avhich thou beholdst ^° 
 
 But in his motion like an angel sings. 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls, 
 But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. — 
 
 Enter Musicians. 
 Come, ho ! and wake Diana Avith a hymn ; 
 With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 
 And draw her home with music. [Music. 
 
 Jessica. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 
 
 Lorenzo. The reason is, your sjoirits are attentive : ^^ 
 For do but note a wild and wanton herd. 
 Or race of 3'outhful and unhandled colts, 
 Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 
 
108 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
 
 If thej 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. 
 
 But music for the time doth change his nature. 
 
 The man that hath no music in himself, 
 
 ISTor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds. 
 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
 
 The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
 
 And his affections dark as Erebus. 
 
 Let no such man be trusted. — Mark the music. 
 
 Enter Portia and I^erissa, 
 
 Portia. That light we see is burning in my hall. 
 How far that little candle throws its beams ! ®® 
 
 So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
 
 Nerissa. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. 
 
 Portia. 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! 
 
 Nerissa. It is your music, madam, of the house. 
 
 Portia. Nothing is good, I see, without respect: 
 Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. ^^^ 
 
 Nerissa. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 109 
 
 Portia. The crow dotli sinf^ as sweetly as the hark 
 When neither is attended; and I think 
 The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
 When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
 Xo better a musician than the wren. 
 IIow many things by season season'd are 
 To their right praise and true perfection ! — 
 Peace, ho ! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
 And would not be awak'd. [Music ceases. 
 
 Lorenzo. That is the voice, ^^^ 
 
 Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. 
 
 Portia. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, 
 By the bad voice. 
 
 Lorenzo. Dear lady, welcome home. 
 
 Portia. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, 
 Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
 Are they return'd ? 
 
 Lorenzo. Madam, they are not yet; 
 
 But there is come a messenger before, 
 To signify their coming. 
 
 Portia. Go in, Nerissa; 
 
 Give orders to my servants that they take 
 ISTo note at all of our being absent hence; — '^^^ 
 
 Nor you, Lorenzo ; — Jessica, nor 3'ou. \_A tiichet sounds. 
 
 Lorenzo. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet. 
 We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear .you not. 
 
 Portia. This night methinks is but the daylight sick; 
 It looks a little paler: 't is a day 
 Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 
 
110 
 
 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gkatiano, and their 
 followers. 
 
 Bassanio. We sliould hold day with the Antipodes, 
 If joii would walk in absence of the sun. 
 
 Portia. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 
 For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, ^"*^ 
 
 And never be Bassanio so for me : 
 But God sort all ! You are welcome home, my lord. 
 
 Bassanio. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my 
 friend. 
 This is the man, this is Antonio, 
 To whom I am so infinitely bound. 
 
 Portia. You should in all sense be much bound to him, 
 For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 
 
 Antonio. JSTo more than I am well acquitted of. 
 
 Portia. Sir, you are very welcome to our house ; 
 It must ajjpear in other ways than words, ^'^^ 
 
 Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 
 
 Oratiano. [To Nei^issa'] By yonder moon I swear you do 
 me wrong; 
 In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. 
 
 Portia. A quarrel, ho, already ! what 's the matter ? 
 
 Gratiano. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
 That she did give me, whose poesy was 
 For all the w^orld like cutler's poetry 
 Upon a knife, " Love me, and leave me not." 
 
 Nerissa. What talk you of the poesy or the value ? 
 You swore to me, when I did give it you, ^^° 
 
 That you would wear it till the hour of death. 
 And that it should lie with you in your grave; 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 
 
 111 
 
 Thongli not for me, yet for your vehement oatlis, 
 You shonld have been respective and have kept it. 
 Gave it a jndge's clerk! bnt well I know 
 The clerk will ne'er wear hair on 's face that had it. 
 
 Oratiano. He will, an if he lives to be a man. 
 
 Nerissa. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 
 
 Gratiano. ISTow, by this hand, I gave it to a yonth, 
 A kind of boy, a little scrnhbed boy, ^°" 
 
 IvTo higher than thyself, the jndge's clerk, 
 A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee ; 
 I conld not for my heart deny it him. 
 
 Portia. Yon were to blame, I mnst be plain with yon. 
 To part so slightly with yonr wife's first gift ; 
 A thing stnck on with oaths npon yonr finger. 
 And so riveted with faith nnto yonr flesh. 
 I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 
 ISTever to part with it, and here he stands : 
 I dare be sworn for him, he wonld not leave it, *'^° 
 
 ISTor plnck it from his finger, for the wealth 
 Of the world masters. ISTow, in faith, Gratiano, 
 Yon give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; 
 An 't were to me, I should be mad at it. 
 
 Bassanio. lAsidel Wliy, I were best to cut my left hand 
 off. 
 And swear I lost the ring defending it. 
 
 Gratiano. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
 Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 
 Deserv'd it too ; and then the boy, his clerk. 
 That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine; ^^'^ 
 
 And neither man nor master would take aught 
 But the two rings. 
 
112 
 
 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 Portia. What ring gave you, my lord ? 
 
 Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. 
 
 Bassanio. 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. 
 
 Portia. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
 By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
 Until I see the ring. 
 
 Nerissa. ISTor I in yours, 
 
 Till I again see mine. 
 
 Bassanio. 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, 
 AVlien nought would be accepted but the ring. 
 You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 
 
 Portia. If you had known the virtue of the ring. 
 Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 
 Or your own honour to contain the ring. 
 You would not then have parted with the ring. 
 What man is there so much unreasonable, 
 If you had pleas'd to have defended it 
 With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
 To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
 ISTerissa teaches me what to believe; 
 I '11 die for 't but some woman had the ring. 
 
 Bassanio. ISTo, by my honour, madam, by my soul, 
 "No woman had it, but a civil doctor. 
 Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me. 
 
 ISO 
 
 200 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICB 113 
 
 And begg'd the ring ; the wliicli I did deny him, ^^" 
 
 And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away, 
 
 Even he that did uphold the very life 
 
 Of my dear friend. AVliat should I say, sweet lady ? 
 
 I was enforc'd to send it after him ; 
 
 I was beset with shame and courtesy; 
 
 My honour would not let ingratitude 
 
 So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady ; 
 
 For, by these blessed candles of the night, 
 
 Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd 
 
 The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. ^^° 
 
 Portia. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house. 
 Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd. 
 And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
 I will become as liberal as you ; 
 I '11 not deny him anything I have. 
 
 Antonio. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 
 
 Portia. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome notwith- 
 standing. 
 
 Bassanio. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; 
 And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
 I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, • ^^° 
 
 Wherein I see myself, — 
 
 Portia. 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. 
 
 Bassanio. ^^J? ^^t hear me: 
 
 Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 
 I never more will break an oath with thee. 
 
114 
 
 THE CEANE CLASSICS 
 
 Antonio. I once did lend my body for his wealtli, 
 Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, 
 Had quite miscarried ; I dare be bound again, 
 My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord ^*** 
 
 Will never more break faith advisedly. 
 
 Poj'tia. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, 
 And bid him keep it better than the other. 
 
 Antonio. Here, lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this ring. 
 
 Bassanio. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor ! 
 
 Portia. You are all amaz'd. 
 Here is a letter: read it at your leisure; 
 It comes from Padua, from Bellario. 
 There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
 Kerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here *"*' 
 
 Shall witness I set forth as soon as you, 
 And even but now return'd ; I have not yet 
 Enter'd my house. — Antonio, you are welcome; 
 And I have better news in store for you 
 Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 
 There you shall find, three of your argosies 
 Are richly come to harbour suddenly. 
 You shall not know by what strange accident 
 I chanced on this letter. 
 
 Antonio. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; 
 For here I read for certain that my ships ^^^ 
 
 Are safely come to road. 
 
 Portia. How now, Lorenzo ? 
 
 My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 
 
 Nerissa. Ay, and I '11 give them him without a fee. — 
 There do I give to you and Jessica, 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 115 
 
 From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 
 After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. 
 
 Lorenzo. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
 Of starved people. 
 
 Portia. 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. \_Exeunt. 
 
I^OTES 
 TO THE MEECHANT OE VENICE. 
 
ITOTES. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — 1. In sooth. In truth. 
 
 9. Argosies. Merchant vessels of not more than 200 tons burden. 
 12. Ovei-peer. Overlook, or outrank. 
 
 15. Venture. A term still in common use in a commercial sense. 
 17. Still. Continually. 
 
 27. Andrew. Ship supposed to have been taken from Andrea Doria, 
 a noted Geonese admiral of the sixteenth century. 
 
 Dock'd. Held by the sand as in a dock. 
 
 28. Vailing. Lowering. 
 
 40. To think upon. From thinking about. 
 42. Bottom. A commercial term still in use. 
 
 50. Tico-headcd Janus. The Eoman god with two faces, sometimes 
 represented with one face laughing and the other grave. 
 
 52. Peep through their eyes. That is, eyes half-shut with laughter. 
 
 54. Other. Used in a plural sense. 
 
 56. Nestor. A Greek god noted for his wisdom and gravity. 
 
 61. Prevented. Anticipated. 
 
 67. Exceeding strange. Becoming a stranger. 
 
 74. Respect upon the icorld. Regard for worldly matters. 
 
 78. Stage. See As Tou Like It, II, 7, 139: "All the world's a 
 stage," etc. 
 
 79. Let me play the fool. That is, the part of the fool,— always 
 one of the cast in the early comedies. 
 
 82. My heart cool, etc. Possibly referring to an old belief that 
 every groan took from the heart a drop of blood. 
 
 85. Creep into the jaundice. Considering this as a mental disease. 
 
 89. Cream and mantle. A figure wherein the mask of the counte- 
 nance is compared to the stagnant water's covering of green slime. 
 
 90. Wilful. Obstinate. 
 
 91. With purpose, etc. To gain a reputation. 
 
 92. Conceit. Intellect. 
 97-9. See Matt, v, 22. 
 
 (119) 
 
120 THE CRANE CL-ASSICS 
 
 102. Fool-gudgeon. A fish easily caught. 
 
 108. Moe. More. 
 
 110. Gear. Matter or purpose. 
 
 124. More swelling port. Grander manner of life. 
 
 1.30. Gag'd. Bound. 
 
 137. Within the eye of honour. Eaiige of honorable dealing. 
 
 139. Occasions. Needs. 
 
 141. Flight. That is, of the same range. 
 
 142. More advised. More careful. 
 
 143. To find . . . forth. To find out. 
 148. Self. Equal, same. 
 
 151. Hazard. Risk. 
 
 154. Circumstance. Circumlocution. 
 
 160. Prest. Ready. 
 
 161. Richly left. Richly provided for. 
 163. Sometimes. In former times. 
 
 106. Brutus' Portia. See Julius Caesar, II, 1, 295. 
 170-2. Reference is here made to the Argonautic expedition. 
 175. Thrift. Success. 
 178. Commodity. Property. 
 183. Presently. Immediately. 
 
 185. To have it of my trust. On business credit, or as a personal 
 favor. 
 
 Scene II.— 1. Aweary. See Macbeth, V, 5, 49. 
 23. Nor refuse none. Double negative, not \xncommon in Shake- 
 speare's writings. 
 28. Who. Whom. 
 35. Level at. Aim at. 
 38. A great appropriation. Great credit. 
 40. County Palatine. A count of the king's palace. 
 
 42. An. And if. 
 
 43. Weeping philosopher. Heracleitus, AA'ho wept over the follies 
 of man. 
 
 54. Throstle. Thrush. 
 
 64. A proper man's picture. A picture of a handsome man. 
 
 66. Suited. Dressed. Douhlet. " A coat with skirts." The round 
 hose reached to the knee, and were equivalent to trousers. Bonnet 
 was originally the name of the goods. Later it was applied to the 
 cap made from it. 
 
NOTES 121 
 
 94. Some other sort. Some other way. 
 
 96. Bibilla. The Cumean Sibyl to whom Apollo promised as many 
 years of life as there were grains in the sand she held in her hand. 
 
 97. Diana. The goddess of purity. 
 
 120. Whiles. Genitive singtilar of " while " used as a noun. 
 
 Scene III. — 1. Ducats. A silver ducat was worth about one dollar 
 of American money. 
 
 7. May you stead me? Will you assist me? 
 12. A good man. In a commercial sense, having good credit. 
 
 17. In supposition. Doubtful. 
 
 18. Tripolis. A Syrian seaport, now called Tripoli. 
 
 19. Rialto. The name of the principal island upon which Venice 
 is built {Isola di Fialto). The name was also applied t* the ex- 
 change on this island, where th« merchants met daily. There is also 
 a bridge called the Rialto. 
 
 20. Squandered. Scattered. 
 .83. So foUoicing. So forth. 
 
 41. Usance. Interest. 
 
 42. Upon the hip. A term used in wrestling. 
 
 47. Interest. A disreputable advantage to take of anyone was to 
 make him pay money for the use of money. Times hav« changed since 
 Antonio's day. 
 
 55. Rest you fair. Good fortune be yours. 
 
 59. Ripe wants. Wants demanding immediate att«nti«n. 
 
 60. Possessed. Informed. 
 
 61. Would. Equivalent to vnsh. 
 65. Methought. It seems to me. 
 67. See Grenesis, xxvii-xxx. 
 
 75. Eanlings. Very young Iambs. Pied. Spotted. 
 
 77. PilVd. Peeled. 
 
 86. Was this inserted, etc. Was this put into the Scriptures to 
 make usury lawful? 
 
 90. See Matthew iv, 4, 6. 
 
 97. Beholding. Under obligation. 
 
 104. Spet. Spit. (Obsolete.) 
 
 Gaberdine. A long frock, still used by some of the English 
 peasantry. 
 
 132. Doit. A small Dutch coin, worth about one-fourth of a cent. 
 
122 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 137. Your single lond. With no other surety. 
 
 153. Dealings teaehes them suspect. A grammatical construction 
 formerly in use, though the reason for such usage is not always clear. 
 168. Knave. Originally meant only a hoy. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — 1. Mislike. Dislike. 
 
 7. Reddest. Red blood being a sign of courage. 
 
 8. Aspect . . . fear'd. The valiant hath feared this aspect, is the 
 thought meant to be expressed. 
 
 14. Direction. Estimation. 
 
 25. The Sophy. The Shah of Persia. 
 
 26. Sultan Solyman. A noted sultan who lived in the sixteenth 
 century. 
 
 32. Hercules and Lichas. Lichas was the page of Hercules (other- 
 wise Alcides), who could defeat his master in a game of chance, al- 
 though in strength Hercules could dash him to pieces. 
 
 43. Nor will not. Another double negative. 
 
 44. The temple. The church where the oath should be taken. 
 It is easy to forecast the choice of such a suitor. 
 
 Scene II. — 9. Via. Away. (Italian.) 
 
 21. Incarnation. Incarnate. 
 
 30. Sand-blind. Of dim sight. 
 
 35. Marry. Mary, a corruption of an oath by the Virgin Mary. 
 
 38. God's sonties. God's saints, or sanctities. 
 
 50. Ergo. Latin, therefore. Launcelot does not know its meaning. 
 
 55. The sisters three. The three Fates. 
 
 84. Lo7-d worshipped. Some explain this to mean " He has such a 
 beard he might be worshipped for a lord." Launcelot had knelt with 
 liis back to his father, who thus mistook his hair for beard. 
 
 85. Fill-horse. Thill-horse. 
 92. Gree. Agree. 
 
 94. Set up my rest. My highest venture. A term used in playing. 
 
 100. As far as God has any ground. To the lower classes in Venice 
 the mainland, where one might walk wherever he chose, was a thing 
 for wonder and veneration. 
 
 109. Gramercy. A corruption of the French, grand merci, "great 
 thanks." 
 
NOTES 123 
 
 Notice the efforts of the poorer men to embellish their speech to 
 Bassanio. 
 
 118. Not cater-cousins. Not able to agree. 
 
 122. A dish of doves. A common present from a father to a son's 
 master in Italy. 
 
 133. Preferred. Recommended. 
 
 136. The old proverh. Probably referring to the Scotch proverb, 
 " The grace of God is gear enough." 
 
 142. Guarded. Ornamented. 
 
 144. Well, if any man, etc. Launcelot first comments upon his 
 master's table, which is fair to hold a Bible upon which to be sworn. 
 Then his mind, from thinking of lifting up the hand in oath-taking, 
 runs to palmistry, — the line of life referring to the line encircling 
 the ball of the thumb. 
 
 148. Aleven. Eleven. 
 
 152. For this gear. For this purpose. 
 
 170. Liberal. Free, careless. Take pain. Not now used, except in 
 the plural. 
 
 178. Hood mine eyes. Hats were worn at the table, especially on 
 ceremonial occasions. 
 
 181. Ostent. Air, or mien. 
 
 Scene III. — 10. Exhibit. Restrain. 
 
 Scene IV. — 6. Quaintly. Gracefully, in good taste. 
 
 10. Break up. Break open. 
 
 13. Writ. Used for wrote. 
 
 37. Faithless. Unbelieving. See Matthew xvii, 17. 
 
 Scene V. — 2. Difference of. Difference between. 
 
 17. Toicards my rest. Against my peace. 
 
 18. To-night. Last night. 
 
 21. So do I his. Shylock appreciates Launcelot's blunder in using 
 reproach for approach. 
 
 24. Black Monday. Stowe says: "In the 34th of Edward III. 
 (1360), the 14th of April, and the morrow after Easter-day, King 
 Edward with his host lay before the city of Paris: which day was full 
 dark of mist and hail, and so bitter cold that many men died on their 
 horses' backs with the cold." 
 
124 
 
 THE CEANB CLASSICS 
 
 29. Wry-neck'd fife. From the shape of the bent mouthpiece, so 
 called. 
 
 35. Jacob's staff. See Genesis xxxii, 10. 
 45. Patch. A professional jester. 
 
 Scene VI. — 5. Venus's pigeons. The doves that draw the chariot 
 of Venus. 
 
 7. Obliged. Pledged. 
 
 15. Scai-fcd. Decorated with flags and streamers. 
 
 18. Over-weathered. Weatherbeaten. 
 
 35. Exchange. Of dress. 
 
 43. Office of discovery. The torch-bearer is in the light. Jessica 
 would keep in the shadow. 
 
 47. Close. Stealthy. 
 
 81. By my hood. Admits of two interpretations: "By my head- 
 covering," or " By my manhood." 
 
 Scene VII. — 4. Who. Used for which in the time of Shakespeare. 
 
 29. Afeard. Afraid. Shakespeare uses the terms interchangeably. 
 
 30. Disabling. Disparaging. 
 
 41. Eyrcanian. Hyrcania, a country southeast of the Caspian sea. 
 See Macbeth, III, 4, 101. 
 Vasty. Desolate. 
 51. To rib her cerecloth. To inclose her shroud. 
 57. Insculp'd upon. Graven upon the outside. 
 63. A carrion death. A skull. 
 65. Glisters. Glistens. 
 77. Part. Depart. 
 
 Scene VIII. — 12. A passion so confus'd. Such a passionate outcry. 
 
 27. Reasoned. Talked. 
 
 28. 'Narrow seas. The English Channel. 
 
 30. Fraught. That is, freighted. Fraught has only a figurative 
 use now. 
 
 39. Slubber. To do imperfectly. 
 
 40. Riping. Ripening. 
 
 48. Sensible. Sensitive. 
 
 Scene IX. — 18. Fortune noiv. Success to me. 
 
 27. Martlet. The house-martin. See Macbeth, I, 6, 4. 
 
 31. Jump with. Fall in with. 
 
NOTES 
 
 125 
 
 37. Cozen. Cheat. 
 
 43. Cover. Wear their hats instead of uncovering in the presence 
 of rank. 
 
 47. Ruin. Rubbish. 
 71. You are sped. You are done for. 
 77. Wroth. Probably, \vrath. 
 84. My lord. " Probably used jestingly." — Rolfe. 
 88. Sensible regrets. Sensible greetings. 
 100. Bassanio, lord Love. May it be Bassanio, lord Cupid. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — 2. It lives there unchecked. It ia an uncontradicted 
 report. 
 
 3. Wracked. Wrecked. 
 
 4. Goodwins. Shoals east of Kent. 
 9. Knapped. Snapped. 
 
 24. The loings. The boy's clothing. 
 33. Match. Bargain. 
 35. Smug. Trim. 
 
 43. Half a million. Of ducats. 
 
 58. It shall go hard. It will be strange. 
 
 103. Turquoise. A valuable stone which tradition said changed 
 color with the change of wearers. 
 
 Scene II. — 6. Hate counsels not, etc. Hate does not prompt auch 
 counsel as this. 
 
 15. Overlooked. Bewitched. 
 
 20. Prove it so. Should it prove so. 
 
 22. Peize. Weigh. 
 
 23. Eke. Lengthen. 
 
 44. A swan-like end. Referring to the tradition in which the swan 
 is supposed to sing just before dying. 
 
 54. Presence. Dignity. 
 
 55. Alcides. " Laomedon, king of Troy, had offended Neptune, who 
 threatened to inundate the country unless the monarch should sacri- 
 fice his daughter Hesione. Accordingly, she was fastened to a rock 
 on the seashore to become the prey of a sea-monster. Hercules res- 
 cued her, not for ' love,' but to get possession of a pair of famous 
 horses belonging to the king." 
 
126 THE CRANE CLASSICS 
 
 58. Dardanian wives. Trojan women. 
 
 63-72. The burden of this song is to show the perishable quality 
 of love that is in the eye, or outward display, and not in the heart. 
 
 81. So simple. So unmixed. 
 
 82. His. Its. 
 
 87. Excrement. Meaning here superficial growth. 
 
 97. Ouiled. Full of guile, or evil. 
 
 98. Beauteous scarf, etc. A beautiful covering for an Indian, and 
 therefore not a beautiful person. 
 
 102. Food for Midas. The Phrj'gian king, IMidas, could turn what- 
 ever he touched to gold. So even his food was changed and he 
 starved amid his riches. 
 
 115. Counterfeit. Portrait. 
 
 130. Continent. That which contains, or is contained. 
 
 140. / come ty note. I come according to the written order of the 
 scroll. 
 
 156. Livings. Fortune, or possessions. 
 
 174. Vantage. Sufficient ground. 
 
 199. Intermission. Delay. 
 
 208. Achiev'd her mistress. Obtained. 
 
 218. Very friends. True friends. 
 
 231. Estate. State. 
 
 236. Jasons. See notes, Act I, 1, 170-2. 
 
 238. Shrewd. Evil. 
 
 242. Constant. Self-possessed. 
 
 257. Mere. Veriest. 
 
 265. Scape. Not 'scape, as a contraction of escape. 
 
 267. Should appear. Would appear. 
 
 271. Confound. Destroy. 
 
 273. Impeach the freedom. Denies that Venice is a free state. 
 
 275. Magnificoes. Noblemen of high rank. 
 
 277. Envious. Malicious. 
 
 307. Cheer. Countenance. 
 
 313. You and I. Not an uncommon error at that time. 
 
 Scene III. — 9. Naughty. Formerly the term was used in a much 
 stronger sense. 
 
 Fond. Foolish. 
 10. To come. As to come. 
 
NOTES 127 
 
 25. Grant. Allow. r 
 
 32. Bated. Eeduccd. 
 
 Scene IV. — 2. Conceit. Conception. 
 
 12. Waste. Spend. 
 
 25. Manage. Tlie t^rm occurs elsewhere in Shakespeare's writings. 
 It applies especially to horses. 
 
 33. This imposition. This charge laid on you. 
 
 52. Imagin'd speed. Speed of thought. 
 
 53. Tranect. A word found nowhere else in Shakespeare's writings. 
 56. Convenient. Suitable, or possible. 
 
 61, Accomplished. Provided with. 
 
 72. / could not do iciihal. I could not help it. 
 
 77. Raio. Crude. Jacks. A term of contempt. 
 
 Scene V. — 3. / fear you. I fear for you. 
 4. Agitation. For cogitation. 
 
 13, 14. Scylla, Charyhdis. Dangerous rocks, one on either side of 
 the narrow Sicillian strait. 
 
 38. Cover. A pun on the word, which meant either to lay covers 
 or to cover one's head. 
 
 53. Hoio cheer' st thou? How do you do? 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — 5. Uncapahle. Incapable. So, uncoiistant and incon- 
 stant ; uncertain and incertain, etc., are used in these plays. 
 18. Fashion. Appearance or show. 
 22. Where. Whereas. 
 26. Moiety. Portion. 
 35. Possess'd. Put into your knowledge. 
 41. Carrion. A common term of contempt. 
 52. Abide. Endure. 
 55. Lodg'd. Abiding. 
 
 77. Conveniency. Convenient. 
 
 78. Judgment. Sentence. 
 87. Parts. Employments. 
 
 124. For thy life. For allowing thee to live. 
 154. Fill up. Fulfill. 
 165. Difference. Dispute. 
 
128 THE CKANE CLASSICS 
 
 190. Seasons. Tempers. 
 
 216. A Daniel. Ecforiing to the apocryphal history of Daniel. 
 241. Hath full relation. Has recognition that this is the penalty. 
 244. More elder. Another double comparative. A common occur- 
 rence in writings of this period. 
 248. Balance. For balances. 
 250. On your charge. At your cost. 
 
 268. Speak me fair in death. Speak well of me after jny death. 
 304. Confiscate. Confiscated. 
 321. Suistance. Amount. 
 324. Estimation. Weight. 
 327. I have thee on the hip. See note on I, 3, 40. 
 
 365. Which humbleness may drive into a fine. Humility in Shy- 
 lock may lead to a change of sentence to a fine. 
 
 366. Only the state's portion. May be so changed. 
 376. In use. In trust. 
 
 405. Cope. Requite. 
 
 444. Commandement. An obsolete form. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — 4. Troilus. An allusion to Chaucer'* tale, Troilus an<i 
 Cressida. 
 
 7. Tltisbe. Reference is here made to the story of Pyramu3 and 
 Thisbe, Babylonian lovers. 
 
 10. Dido. Queen of Carthage. 
 
 13. Medea. She restored J^^son's youth by blood from her own 
 veins, and in its place she put the juice of herbs. 
 
 31. Holy crosses. "These are very common in Italy. Besides 
 those in churches, they mark the spots where heroes were born, where 
 saints rested, where travelers died. They rise on hilltops, and at 
 the intersection of roads; and there is now a shrine of the Madonna 
 del Mare in the midst of the sea between Mestre and Venice, and 
 another between Venice and Palestrina, where the gondolier and 
 mariner cross themselves in passing, and whose lamp nightly gleams 
 over the waters, in moonlight and storm." — From Rolfc's edition of 
 The Merchant of Venice. 
 
 59. Patines. Sacramental plates, sometimes made of beaten gold. 
 
NOTES 129 
 
 87. Erchus. "A place of nrther darkness between Earth and 
 Hades." 
 
 09. Without respect. Without regard, or attention being paid to it. 
 
 109. Endymion. The shepliord beloved by Diana. 
 
 127. We should hold day, ete. \Ye should have daylight when the 
 sun is on the Antipodes, if Portia should walk abroad. An extrava- 
 gant figure. 
 
 132. Sort. Dispose of. 
 
 160. Scruiied. Stunted and unkempt. 
 
 199. Contain. Retain. 
 
 208. Cioil doctor. Doctor of laws, or civil law. 
 
 202. To road. To harbor. 
 — 9 
 
NOV f t9W