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WILLI

SHAKESPEARES
COMEDY OF
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE
EDITED, witH NOTEs,
BY
WILLIAM J. ROLFE, LITT. D.,
ForMERLY HEAD MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, CAMBRIDGE, MASS,
WITH ENGRA VINGS.
AVAZ W Y O A' A .
H A R P E R & B R O T H E R S, PU B L IS H E R S,
F R A N K L I N S Q U A R e.
1895.


E N G L IS H C L A S S I C S.
EDITED BY WM. J. ROLFE, LITT. D.
Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, 56 cents per volume; Paper, 40 cents per volume.
SHAKESPEARE's Works.
The Merchant of Venice. Richard III.
Othello. Henry VIII.
Julius Caesar. King Lear.
A Midsummer-Night's Dream. The Taming of the Shrew. |
Macbeth. All 's Well that Ends Well,
Hamlet. Coriolanus. |
Much Ado about Nothing. The Comedy of Errors.
Romeo and Juliet. Cymbeline.
As You Like It. Antony and Cleopatra.
The Tempest. Measure for Measure.
Twelfth Night. Merry Wives of Windsor.
The Winter's Tale, Love's Labour 's Lost. |
King John. Two Gentlemen of Verona. |
Richard II. Timon of Athens. |
Henry IV. Part I. Troilus and Cressida, J
Henry IV. Part II. Pericles, Prince of Tyre.
Henry V. The Two Noble Kinsmen.
Henry VI. Part I. Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, etc.
| Henry VI. Part II. | Sonnets. -
Henry VI. Part III. | Titus Andronicus.
GoLDSMITH's SELECT PoEMs. BROwnING's SELECT PoEMS.
GRAY's SELECT PoEMs. Brown ING's SELECT I) RAMAs.
MINor PoEMs of John MILTON. MACAULAY's LAYs of ANCIENT ROME
WORDSworth’s SELECT POEMS.
Published by HARPER & BROTHERS, New York.
ºf The ačoze works are for sale ày aſ! &ookse/lers, or they will be se??? &y'
HARPER & Brothers to any add, ess on receipt of frice as 7uoted. If
ordered sent by mail, Io £er cent, should be added to the price to cozyer cost
of £ostage.
... Tº
sº- \ **
** %,
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Copyright, 1870, by HARPER & BROTHERs.
Copyright, 1883, by HARPER & BROTHERs.
C O N T E N T S.
e
THE LIFE AND Works of SHAKESPEARE.............................. tº p *:
INTRODUCTION TO THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. ......................... 9
I. THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY........................................ • 9
II. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT.......................................... II
III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY............................... . I3
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. ....................................... . 39
ACT 1............................................................................ • 4 I
“ II............................................. * @ . . e º ſº tº tº dº º ºs º e º º ſº tº º is ſº * * g º e º ſº tº e ºs ... 56
“III.............................................................. ............ . 78
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MONUMENT AT STRATFORD,












t ºxº-
-º-º:
John SHAKESPEARE’s House IN HENLEY STREET. View from an old Prinf
T H E L I F E A N D W O R K S
OF
S H A K E S P E A R E.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was born at Stratford-upon-Avon,
in the county of Warwick, England, in April, 1564. The rec
ord of his baptism bears the date of April 26th, and as it was
an old custon to christen children on the third day after birth,
the tradition which makes his birthday the 23d has been com-
monly accepted. His father, John Shakespeare, seems to
have belonged to the class of yeomen, and to have been a
glover by trade. His mother, Mary Arderne, or Arden, came
of a good old Warwickshire family, and brought her husband
a considerable estate as dower. John Shakespeare was
for many years an alderman, and twice filled the office of
High Bailiff, or chief magistrate, but later in life he appears
to have become quite poor.



2 7///, ///w/º A.VT/) IVOA’ATS OF
Of a family of four sons and four daughters, William was
the third child, but the eldest son. He was in all probabili-
ty sent to the free-school of his native town, and after leav-
ing School may have spent some time in an attorney's office
JBut in 1582, when he was only 18, he married Anne Hath-
away, of the parish of Shottery, near Stratford, a woman some
eight years older than himself. A daughter was soon born
to him, and, two years later, twins—a boy and a girl.
ROOM IN THE HOUSE IN HEN LEY STREET, W HERE SHA KESPEA RE WAS BORN.
As nearly as can be made out, it was in the next year, 1586,
that Shakespeare, then 22, went to London, where he became
first an actor, then a writer for the stage. As an actor he
seems to have made no special mark, but as a writer he very
soon distinguished himself, and in a few years had won the
foremost rank among the dramatists of his time. In 1598,
Francis Meres, in his Iſiſ’s Treasury, speaks of him as “the

S//AATE.S.P.A.A.A’A. 3
most excellent among the English for both kinds of tragedy
and comedy.” His works became not only widely popular,
but they brought him special marks of favor and approval
from Queen Elizabeth and her successor, James, and gained
for him the patronage and friendship of some of the most ac-
Complished men of rank of that day.
INNER COURT OF THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL, STRATFORD,
But while thus prosperous and honored in London, Shake.
speare continued to look upon Stratford as his home. There
he had left his wife and children, and thither, after he had
secured a competency, he returned to spend the evening of

4. 7///, ///*A* A A'A) i l’OA’A.S ()/."
his days in quiet. It was probably about the year 1612 that
he settled down in Stratford, on an estate purchased some
years previous. His wife was still living, and also his two
C. H. A. N. C. H. I. () F STRAT is Ojº 13 CH U R CHE,

..SHAATA.S.PA2AA’A. 5
daughters, of whom the elder, Susanna, was married to Dr.
John Hall, in 1607; the younger, Judith, to Mr. Thos. Quin.
ey, in 1616. His son, Hamnet, had died in his twelfth year,
in 1596.
Shakespeare died at Stratford, as already mentioned, on
the 23d of April, 1616; and he lies buried in the parish
church there. -
The first work of Shakespeare's which was printed with his
name was the poem of Venus and Adonis, which appeared in
1593. In the Dedication to the Earl of Southampton the
author styles it “the first heir of his invention.” In 1594,
The Acape of Zucrece was published. Both these poems were
reprinted several times in the poet's lifetime. His only oth-
er works, besides the Plays, are Zhe Passionate Pilgrim, a
small collection of poems, first printed in 1599, and his Son-
nets (154 in number), with a poem entitled A Zover's Com-
p/ainſ, which appeared together in 1609. -
The first edition of his collected Dramatic Works contain.
ed all the Plays generally included in modern editions, with
the exception of Pericles, and was published in a folio vol-
ume, in 1623, or not till seven years after his death. It was
put forth by two of his friends and fellow actors, 90/in Hem-
ſinge and Henrie Conde//, and the title-page declares it to be
printed “according to the true original copies.” The preface
also condemns all preceding editions of separate plays” as
“stolen and surreptitious copies, maimed and deformed by
the frauds and stealths of injurious impostors,” while it claims
that the publishers of this volume had the use of the author's
manuscripts. They probably had the use of such of his pa.
pers as were in the possession of the Blackfriars Theatre, to
* Eighteen of the Plays are known to have been separately printed,
some of them more than once, in Shakespeare's lifetime. Offic//o was also
printed separately in 1622. All these editions are in quarto form, and are
commonly known as the old or early quartos.
6 Zºº L/AFE A.V/) ſº OA-
which they, like himself, belonged. The volume, however, ap-
—pears to have had no proper editing, and every page is dis-
figured by the grossest typographical errors. While it is the
earliest and the only authentic edition of the Plays, it cannot
be accepted as anything like an infallible authority in all
cases for what Shakespeare actually wrote.
STRA Troºp Cºuncil, west END.
The volume just described is commonly known as the “first
folio.” A second folio edition, including the same plays, ap-
peared in 1632. It contains some new readings, which are

S//AATA.S.A’AAA’A. 7
probably nothing more than the conjectural emendations of
the unknown editor.
A third folio edition was issued in 1664. This contains
the thirty-six Plays of the preceding folios, with Pericles and
six dramas” not included in the modern editions. A fourth
and last folio reprint followed in 1685.
is a
3
º
- ºftºniº º º º º . .” # - Cº. - sit | sº
º EEZ º º º, T. jº º Aºtº ºf #: º ºl
< c, -ś tºº
HOUSE IN HEN LEY STREET, A POUT 1820.
These four folios were the only editions of the Plays brought
out in the 17th century. The 18th century produced a long
succession of editors—Rowe, Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, War-
burton, Johnson, Steevens, Capell, Reed, Malone, and Rann.
In 1803 appeared what is known as “Reed's Second Edition
of Johnson and Steevens,” in twenty-one volumes, in which
were incorporated all the notes of the preceding editions.
* These are The Zozzofon Prodigaſ, 7% omas Zord Cromºte//, Sir John O/d-
castle, 7%e A'uritan Widow, A Yorkshire 7% agedy, and Locrine. It is al-
most certain that Shakespeare wrote none of them.

8 7A/E L//º A.VD WOAA’s Of SAAAA.S.A.A.A.A.A.
This was followed in 1821 by what is now the standard “ſº.
riorum edition," also in twenty-one volumes, mostly prepared
by Malone, but completed and carried through the press by
his friend Boswell. The most important English editions of
more recent date are those of Knight, Collier, Singer, Staun-
ton, Dyce, Clark and Wright, and Halliwell. The only Amer.
ican editions of any critical value are Verplanck's (1847)
Hudson's (1855 and 1881), White's (1857–1865 and 1883),
and Furness's (“New Variorum” ed. begun in 1871).
º
º
|
st RATFORD CHURCH, East END, witH chaºl-House.

#--#
*
s
ARMS OF JOHN SHAKESPEARE
I N T R O D U C T I O N
TO THE
M E R C H A N T OF V E N I C E.
I. THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY.
Zhe Merchant of Venice is the last on a list of Shakespeare's
plays given by Francis Meres in his Palladis Zamia, which
appeared in 1598. In the same year it was entered as fol.
lows on the Register of the Stationers’ Company —
“22 July, 1598, James Robertes.] A booke of the Mar.
chaunt of Venyce, or otherwise called the Jewe of Venyse.
Provided that yt bee not prynted by the said James Robertes.


IO THE MERCHAM7 OF WEA/CE.
or anye other whatsoever, without lycence first had from the
right honourable the Lord Chamberlen.”
The company of players to which Shakespeare belonged,
and for which he wrote, were “the Lord Chamberlain’s Ser.
vants;” and the above order was meant to prohibit the pub.
lication of the play until the patron of the company should
give his permission. This he appears not to have done
until two years later, when the following entry was made in
the Register: -
“28 Oct., 16oo, Tho. Haies.] The booke of the Merchant
of Venyce.” --
Soon after this entry, the play was published by Heyes, in
quarto, with the following title:
The most excellent Historie of the Merchant of Venice.
With the extreame crueltie of Shy/ocke the ſewe towards the
sayd Merchant, in cutting a iust pound of his flesh: and the
obtayning of Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it
hath beene diuers times acted by the Zord | Chamberlaine his Ser-
uants. Written by William Shakespeare. AT LONDON,
Printed by I. R., for Thomas Heyes, and are to be sold in
Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Greene Dragon.
I6oo.
Another edition, also in quarto, was issued the same year,
by Roberts, with the following title:
THE | EXCELLENT | History of the Mer- chant of Ven-
ice. With the extreme cruelty of Shylocke the Iew towards
the saide Merchant, in cut- | fing a must found of his flesh.
And the obtaining of Porfia, by the choyse of three Caskets.
Written by W. SHAKESPEARE. | Printed by 9. Roberts, 16oo.
The play was not reprinted until it appeared in the folio
of 1623, where the text varies but little from the quartos.
Henslowe's Diary, under the date “25 of aguste, 1594,”
records the performance of “the Venesyon Comodey,” which
is marked me, as a new play. Some critics take this to be
The Merchant of Venice, since the company of players to which
AV7'RO/D UC 77OAV. - I I
Shakespeare belonged was then acting at the theatre of which
Henslowe was chief manager; but we may be sure from in-
ternal evidence that the Merchant is a later play than the
M. A. Z2. If the latter (see our ed. p. 10) was written in
I 594, the former cannot be earlier than 1596.
The Merchant was played before James I. on Shrove Sun-
day, and again on Shrove Tuesday, in 1605. The following
entries in the Accounts of the Master of Revels are unques-
tionably forgeries; but Halliwell (Outlines, 6th ed. vol. ii. p.
I61) has shown that the information they contain is never-
theless genuine :
“By his Ma" Plaiers. On Shrousunday a play of the
Marchant of Venis.”
“By his Ma" Players. On Shroutusday a play cauled
the Martchant of Venis againe, comanded by the Kings
Matie.” -
The name of “Shaxberd” as “the poet which made the
play” is added in the margin opposite both entries.
II. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT.
The plot of The Merchant of Venice is composed of two dis.
tinct stories: that of the bond, and that of the caskets. Both
these fables are found in the Gesta Æomanorum, a Latin com-
pilation of allegorical tales, which had been translated into
English as early as the time of Henry VI. It is almost cer-
tain, however, that the source whence Shakespeare, either
directly or indirectly, drew the incidents connected with the
bond, was a story in ZZ Pecorone, a collection of tales by Gio-
vanni Fiorentino, first published at Milan in 1558, though
written nearly two hundred years before. In this story we
have a rich lady at Belmont, who is to be won on certain con-
ditions; and she is finally the prize of a young merchant,
whose friend, having become surety for him to a Jew under
the same penalty as in the play, is rescued from the forfeiture
by the adroitness of the married lady, who is disguised as a
I 2 7A/B, AZAZAC CA/A AW 7" OA' |ZAZAV/C.E.
lawyer. The pretended judge receives, as in the comedy,
her marriage ring as a gratuity, and afterwards banters her
husband, in the same way, upon the loss of it. An English
translation of the book was extant in Shakespeare's time.
Possibly the dramatist was somewhat indebted to 7%e Ora-
for, translated from the French of Alexander Silvayn (Lon-
don, 1596). Portions of the 95th Declamation in this book
(see page 168 below) are strikingly like some of Shylock's
speeches at the trial. Certain critics believe that the poet
also made some use of the ballad of Germutus (printed in
Percy's Reliques), which is probably older than the play.
It is probable, however, that the legends of the bond and
the caskets had been blended in dramatic form before Shake-
Speare began to write for the stage. Stephen Gosson, a Pu-
ritan author, in his Schooſe of Abuse, published in 1579, excepts
a few plays from the Sweeping condemnation of his “plesaunt
inuective against Poets, Pipers, Plaiers, Jesters, and such-like
caterpillers of a Commonwelth.” Among these exceptions
he mentions “The 9ew, and Ptolome, showne at the Bull; the
one representing the greedinesse of world/y chusers, and the
//oody minds of usurers; the other very lively describing howe
seditious estates with their owne devises, false friends with
their owne swoords, and rebellious commons in their owne
snares, are overthrowne.” We have no other knowledge of
this play of Zhe 9ew, but the nationality of its hero and the
double moral, agreeing so exactly with that of The Merchant
of Venice, render it probable that the plots of the two dramas
were essentially the same ; and that Shakespeare in this in-
stance, as in others, worked upon some rough model already
prepared for him. The question, however, is not of great im-
portance. As Staunton remarks, “Be the merit of the fable
whose it may, the characters, the language, the poetry, and
the sentiment are his, and his alone. To no other writer of
the period could we be indebted for the charming combina.
tion of womanly grace, and dignity, and playfulness, which is
tº a º
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AV ZA’O/O (WCTVOAV. I 3
found in Portia; for the exquisite picture of friendship be.
tween Bassanio and Antonio ; for the profusion of poetic
beauties scattered over the play; and for the masterly de-
lineation of that perfect type of Judaism in olden times, the
character of Shylock himself.”
III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON - THE PLAY.
[From Schlegel’s “Lectures on Dramatic Literature.”]
The Merchant of Venice is one of Shakespeare's most per.
fect works: popular to an extraordinary degree, and calcu-
lated to produce the most powerful effect on the stage, and
at the same time a wonder of ingenuity and art for the re-
flecting critic. Shylock the Jew is one of the inimitable mas-
terpieces of characterization which are to be found only in
Shakespeare. It is easy for both poet and player to exhibit
a caricature of national sentiments, modes of speaking, and
gestures. Shylock, however, is everything but a common
Jew: he possesses a strongly marked and original individu-
ality, and yet we perceive a light touch of Judaism in every.
thing he says or does. We almost fancy we can hear a slight
whisper of the Jewish accent even in the written words, such
as we sometimes still find in the higher classes, notwithstand-
ing their social refinement. In tranquil moments, all that is
foreign to the European blood and Christian sentiments is
less perceptible, but in passion the national stamp comes out
more strongly marked. All these inimitable niceties the fin-
ished art of a great actor can alone properly express. Shy-
lock is a man of information, in his own way even a thinker,
only he has not discovered the region where human feelings
dwell; his morality is founded on the disbelief in goodness
and magnanimity. The desire to avenge the wrongs and in-
dignities heaped upon his nation is, after avarice, his stron-
gest spring of action. His hate is naturally directed chiefly
* From Black's translation, with a few verbal changes. I have not had
the opportunity of comparing it with the original German.
I4 7A/A2 A/AA’CA/AAV7' OA' VAZAZCAE.
against those Christians who are actuated by truly Christian
sentiments: a disinterested love of our neighbour seems to
him the most unrelenting persecution of the Jews. The let-
ter of the law is his idol ; he refuses to lend an ear to the
voice of mercy, which, from the mouth of Portia, speaks to
him with heavenly eloquence : he insists on rigid and inflex-
ºble justice, and at last it recoils on his own head. Thus he
becomes a symbol of the general history of his unfortunate
nation. The melancholy and self-sacrificing magnanimity of
Antonio is affectingly sublime. Like a princely merchant,
he is surrounded with a whole train of noble friends. The
contrast which this forms to the selfish cruelty of the usurer
Shylock was necessary to redeem the honour of human na-
ture. The danger which, almost to the close of the fourth
act, hangs over Antonio, and which the imagination is almost
afraid to approach, would fill the mind with too painful anxie-
ty, if the poet did not also provide for its recreation and di-
version. This is effected in an especial manner by the scenes
at Portia's country-seat, which transport the spectator into
quite another world. And yet they are closely connected
with the main business by the chain of cause and effect.
Bassanio's preparations for his courtship are the cause of
Antonio's subscribing the dangerous bond ; and Portia, by
the counsel and advice of her kinsman, a famous lawyer, ef.
fects the safety of her lover's friend. But the relations of
the dramatic composition are admirably observed in yet an-
other respect. The trial between Shylock and Antonio is in-
deed recorded as being a real event, but still, for all that, it
must ever remain an unheard-of and singular case. Shake-
speare has therefore associated it with a love intrigue not
less extraordinary : the one consequently is rendered natural
and probable by means of the other. A rich, beautiful, and
intellectual heiress, who can only be won by solving the rid-
dle; the locked caskets; the foreign princes, who come to
try the venture;—all this powerfully excites the imagination
AV7'RODUCT/OAV, I5
with the splendour of an olden tale of marvels. The two
scenes in which, first the Prince of Morocco, in the language
of Eastern hyperbole, and then the self-conceited Prince of
Arragon, make their choice among the caskets, serve merely
to raise our curiosity, and give employment to our wits; but
on the third, where the two lovers stand trembling before the
inevitable choice, which in one moment must unite or sepa-
rate them for ever, Shakespeare has lavished all the charms
of feeling, all the magic of poesy. We share in the rapture
of Portia and Bassanio at the fortunate choice: we easily
conceive why they are so fond of each other, for they are
both most deserving of love. The trial scene, with which the
fourth act is occupied, is in itself a perfect drama, concentrat-
ing in itself the interest of the whole. The knot is now un-
tied, and, according to the common ideas of theatrical satis-
faction, the curtain ought to drop. But the poet was unwill-
ing to dismiss his audience with the gloomy impressions which
Antonio's acquittal, effected with so much difficulty and con-
trary to all expectation, and the condemnation of Shylock,
were calculated to leave behind them ; he has therefore add-
ed the fifth act by way of a musical afterpiece in the play
itself. The episode of Jessica, the fugitive daughter of the
Jew, in whom Shakespeare has contrived to throw a veil of
sweetness over the national features, and the artifice by which
Portia and her companion are enabled to rally their newly-
married husbands, supply him with the necessary materials.
The scene opens with the playful prattling of two lovers in a
summer evening; it is followed by soft music, and a rapturous
eulogy on this powerful disposer of the human mind and the
world ; the principal characters then make their appearance,
and, after a simulated quarrel, which is gracefully maintained,
the whole ends with the most exhilarating mirth.
[From A/rs. Jameson’s “Characteristics of Women.”]
Portia, Isabella, Beatrice, and Rosalind may be classed to:
I6 THE /l/AA’C//AAV7" OA' VAZAV/CAE.
gether, as characters of intellect, because, when compared
with others, they are at once distinguished by their mental
Superiority. In Portia, it is intellect kindled into romance
by a poetical imagination ; in Isabel, it is intellect elevated
by religious principle ; in Beatrice, intellect animated by spir-
it; in Rosalind, intellect softened by sensibility. The wit
which is lavished on each is profound, or pointed, or spark-
ling, or playful—but always feminine ; like spirits distilled
from flowers, it always reminds us of its origin; it is a vola-
tile essence, Sweet as powerful ; and to pursue the compari-
son a step further, the wit of Portia is like ottar of roses, rich
and concentrated ; that of Rosalind, like cotton dipped in
aromatic vinegar; the wit of Beatrice is like sal volatile; and
that of Isabel, like the incense wafted to heaven. Of these
four exquisite characters, considered as dramatic and poetic-
al conceptions, it is difficult to pronounce which is most per-
fect in its way, most admirably drawn, most highly finished.
But if considered in another point of view, as women and
individuals, as breathing realities, clothed in flesh and blood,
I believe we must assign the first rank to Portia, as uniting
in herself, in a more eminent degree than the others, all the
noblest and most lovable qualities that ever met together
in woman, and presenting a complete personification of Pe-
trarch's exquisite epitome of female perfection—
Il vago spirito ardento,
E’m alto intelletto, un puro core.
Shylock is not a finer or more finished character in his
way, than Portia is in hers. These two splendid figures are
worthy of each other; worthy of being placed together with-
in the same rich framework of enchanting poetry, and glori-
ous and graceful forms. She hangs beside the terrible inex-
orable Jew, the brilliant lights of her character set off by the
shadowy power of his, like a magnificent beauty-breathing
Titian by the side of a gorgeous Rembrandt.
Portia is endued with her own share of those delightful
AV7'RODUCTIOM. 17
qualities which Shakespeare has lavished on many of his fe-
male characters; but, besides the dignity, the sweetness, and
tenderness which should distinguish her sex generally, she is
individualized by qualities peculiar to herself; by her high
mental powers, her enthusiasm of temperament, her decision
of purpose, and her buoyancy of spirit. These are innate;
she has other distinguishing qualities more external, and
which are the result of the circumstances in which she is
placed. Thus she is the heiress of a princely name and
Countless wealth ; a train of obedient pleasures have ever
waited round her; and from infancy she has breathed an at-
mosphere redolent of perfume and blandishment. Accord-
ingly there is a commanding grace, a high-bred, airy elegance,
a spirit of magnificence in all that she does and says, as one
to whom splendour had been familiar from her very birth.
She treads as though her footsteps had been among marble
palaces, beneath roofs of fretted gold, o'er cedar floors and
pavements of jasper and porphyry—amid gardens full of stat-
ues, and flowers, ānd fountains, and haunting music. She is
full of penetrative wisdom, and genuine tenderness, and live-
ly wit; but as she has never known want, or grief, or fear, or
disappointment, her wisdom is without a touch of the sombre
or the sad ; her affections are all mixed up with faith, hope,
and joy; and her wit has not a particle of malevolence or
causticity. . .
The sudden plan which she forms for the release of her
husband's friend, her disguise, and her deportment as the
young and learned doctor, would appear forced and improb-
able in any other woman, but in Portia are the simple and
natural result of her character.” The quickness with which
she perceives the legal advantage which may be taken of the
circumstances, the spirit of adventure with which she engages
* In that age, delicate points of law were not determined by the ordi-
nary judges of the provinces, but by doctors of law, who were called from
Bologna, Padua, and other places celebrated for their legal colleges.
B
I8 THE MEACCHAAW 7" OA' VAZAV/C.E.
in the masquerading, and the decision, firmness, and intelli.
gence with which she executes her generous purpose, are all
in perfect keeping, and nothing appears forced—nothing as
introduced merely for theatrical effect.
But all the finest parts of Portia's character are brought to
bear in the trial scene. There she shines forth, all her di-
vine self. Her intellectual powers, her elevated sense of re-
ligion, her high honourable principles, her best feelings as a
woman, are all displayed. She maintains at first a calm self-
command, as one sure of carrying her point in the end ; yet
the painful heart-thrilling uncertainty in which she keeps the
whole court, until suspense verges upon agony, is not con-
trived for effect merely; it is necessary and inevitable. She
has two objects in view : to deliver her husband's friend, and
to maintain her husband's honour by the discharge of his just
debt, though paid out of her own wealth ten times over. It
is evident that she would rather owe the safety of Antonio to
anything rather than the legal quibble with which her cousin
Bellario has armed her, and which she reserves as a last re-
Source. Thus all the speeches addressed to Shylock in the
first instance are either direct or indirect experiments on his
temper and feelings. She must be understood from the be-
ginning to the end as examining, with intense anxiety, the
effect of her own words on his mind and countenance ; as
watching for that relenting spirit, which she hopes to awaken
either by reason or persuasion. She begins by an appeal to
his mercy, in that matchless piece of eloquence, which, with
an irresistible and solemn pathos, falls upon the heart like
“gentle dew from heaven :”—but in vain ; for that blessed
dew drops not more fruitless and unfelt on the parched sand
of the desert, than do these heavenly words upon the ear of
Shylock. She next attacks his avarice:
Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee .
Then she appeals, in the same breath, both to his avarice and
his pity :
AAV7'RO/DUCT/OAV. IO
Be merciful!
Take thrice thy money. Bid me tear the bond.
All that she says afterwards—her strong expressions, which
are calculated to strike a shuddering horror through the
nerves, the reflections she interposes, her delays and circum-
locution to give time for any latent feeling of commiseration
to display itself-all, all are premeditated, and tend in the
same manner to the object she has in view.
So unwilling is her sanguine and generous spirit to resign
all hope, or to believe that humanity is absolutely extinct in
the bosom of the Jew, that she calls on Antonio, as a last re-
source, to speak for himself. His gentle, yet manly resigna-
tion, the deep pathos of his farewell, and the affectionate al-
iusion to herself in his last address to Bassanio—
Commend me to your honourable wife;
Say how I lov’d you, speak me fair in death, etc.—
are well calculated to swell that emotion, which through the
whole scene must have been labouring suppressed within her
heart. -
At length the crisis arrives, for patience and womanhood
can endure no longer; and when Shylock, carrying his save
age bent “to the last hour of act,” springs on his victim—“A
sentence come, prepare ſ”—then the Smothered scorn, indig-
nation, and disgust burst forth with an impetuosity which in-
terferes with the judicial solemnity she had at first affected,
particularly in the speech—
Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh, etc.
But she afterwards recovers her propriety, and triumphs with
a cooler scorn and a more self-possessed exultation.
It is clear that, to feel the full force and dramatic beauty
of this marvellous scene, we must go along with Portia as
well as with Shylock; we must understand her concealed
purpose, keep in mind her noble motives, and pursue in our
fancy the under turrent of feeling, working in her mind
2O 7///E MAZA’CA/AAV7" OA' VAZAV/CAE.
throughout. The terror and the power of Shylock's charac.
ter, his deadly and inexorable malice, would be too oppress-
ive, the pain and pity too intolerable, and the horror of the
possible issue too overwhelming, but for the intellectual re-
lief afforded by this double source of interest and contempla-
flon. . . .
A prominent feature in Portia's character is that confiding.
buoyant spirit, which mingles with all her thoughts and affec.
tions. And here let me observe, that I never yet met in real
life, nor ever read in tale or history, of any woman, distin-
guished for intellect of the highest order, who was not also
remarkable for this trusting spirit, this hopefulness and cheer-
fulness of temper, which is compatible with the most serious
habits of thought, and the most profound sensibility. Lady
Wortley Montagu was one instance ; and Madame de Staël
furnishes another much more memorable. In her Corinne,
whom she drew from herself, this natural brightness of temper
is a prominent part of the character. A disposition to doubt,
to Suspect, and to despond, in the young, argues, in general,
Some inherent weakness, moral or physical, or some miser-
able and radical error of education : in the old, it is one of
the first symptoms of age ; it speaks of the influence of sor-
row and experience, and foreshows the decay of the stronger
and more generous powers of the soul. Portia's strength of
intellect takes a natural tinge from the flush and bloom of
her young and prosperous existence, and from her fervent
imagination. In the casket-scene, she fears indeed the issue
of the trial, on which more than her life is hazarded ; but
while she trembles, her hope is stronger than her fear. . . . .
Her subsequent surrender of herself in heart and soul, of
her maiden freedom, and her vast possessions, can never be
read without deep emotions; for not only all the tenderness
and delicacy of a devoted woman are here blended with all
the dignity which becomes the princely heiress of Belmont,
but the serious, measured self-possession of her address to
JAVTRODUCT /O/W. 2 I
her lover, when all suspense is over, and all concealment su-
perfluous, is most beautifully consistent with the character.
It is, in truth, an awful moment, that in which a gifted woman
first discovers that, besides talents and powers, she has also
passions and affections; when she first begins to suspect their
vast importance in the sum of her existence ; when she first
confesses that her happiness is no longer in her own keeping,
but is surrendered forever and forever into the dominion of
another | The possession of uncommon powers of mind is
so far from affording relief or resource in the first intoxica-
ting surprise—I had almost said terror—of such a revolution,
that they render it more intense. The sources of thought
multiply beyond calculation the sources of feeling; and min-
gled, they rush together, a torrent deep as strong. Because
Portia is endued with that enlarged comprehension which
looks before and after, she does not feel the less, but the
more ; because from the height of her commanding intellect
she can contemplate the force, the tendency, the consequences
of her own sentiments—because she is fully sensible of her
own situation, and the value of all she concedes—the conces-
sion is not made with less entireness and devotion of heart,
less confidence in the truth and worth of her lover, than when
Juliet, in a similar moment, but without any such intrusive re-
flections—any check but the instinctive delicacy of her sex,
flings herself and her fortunes at the feet of her lover:
And all my fortunes at thy foot I’ll lay,
And follow thee, my lord, through all the world.”
In Portia’s confession—“You see me, Lord Bassanio, where
I stand,” etc.——which is not breathed from a moonlit balcony,
but spoken openly in the presence of her attendants and vas-
sals, there is nothing of the passionate self-abandonment of
Juliet, nor of the artless simplicity of Miranda, but a con-
sciousness and a tender seriousness, approaching to Solemni-
ty, which are not less touching.
* tº º Gy
* Romeo and Juliet, ii. 2.
22 THE MERCHA WT OF WEAV/CAE.
We must also remark that the sweetness, the solicitude,
the subdued fondness which she afterwards displays, relative
to the letter, are as true to the softness of her sex, as the gen-
erous self-denial with which she urges the departure of Bas-
sanio (having first given him a husband's right over herself
and all her countless wealth) is consistent with a reflecting
mind, and a spirit at once tender, reasonable, and magnani-
II) OllS. . .
In the last act, Shylock and his machinations being dis.
missed from our thoughts, and the rest of the dramatis per-
sonae assembled together at Belmont, all our interest and all
our attention are riveted on Portia, and the conclusion leaves
the most delightful impression on the fancy. The playful
equivoque of the rings, the sportive trick she puts on her
husband, and her thorough enjoyment of the jest, which she
checks just as it is proceeding beyond the bounds of proprie-
ty, show how little she was displeased by the sacrifice of her
gift, and are all consistent with her bright and buoyant spirit.
ln conclusion, when Portia invites her company to enter her
palace to refresh themselves after their travels, and talk over
“these events at full,” the imagination, unwilling to lose sight
of the brilliant group, follows them in gay procession from the
lovely moonlight garden to marble halls and princely revels,
to splendor and festive mirth, to love and happiness. . .
It is observable that something of the intellectual brilliance
of Portia is reflected on the other female characters of 7%e
Merchant of Penice so as to preserve in the midst of contrast
a certain harmony and keeping. Thus Jessica, though prop-
erly kept subordinate, is certainly
A most beautiful pagan—a most sweet Jew.
She cannot be called a sketch—or if a sketch, she is like one
of those dashed off in glowing colours from the rainbow pal.
ette of a Rubens; she has a rich tinge of Orientalism shed
over her, worthy of her Eastern origin. In another play, and
AV7'RODUCT/OAV. 23
in any other companionship than that of the matchless Por-
tia, Jessica would make a very beautiful heroine of herself.
Nothing can be more poetically, more classically fanciful and
elegant than the scenes between her and Lorenzo—the cel-
ebrated moonlight dialogue, for instance, which we all have
by heart. Every sentiment she utters interests us for her—
more particularly her bashful self-reproach, when flying in the
disguise of a page:
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look upon 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.
And the enthusiastic and generous testimony to the superior
graces and accomplishments of Portia comes with a peculiar
grace from her lips:
Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match,
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
And Portia one, there must be something else
Pawned with the other; for the poor rude world
Hath not her fellow.
We should not, however, easily pardon her for cheating her
father with so much indifference but for the perception that
Shylock values his daughter far beneath his wealth :
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
Nerissa is a good specimen of a common genus of charac-
ters; she is a clever confidential waiting-woman, who has
caught a little of her lady's elegance and romance ; she af.
fects to be lively and sententious, falls in love, and makes
her favour conditional on the fortune of the caskets, and, in
short, mimics her mistress with good emphasis and discretion.
Nerissa and the gay, talkative Gratiano are as well matched
as the incomparable Portia and her magnificent and capti.
vating lover.
24 7//E //E/*C//A A' 7" OA' |VAZAV/C.E.
|
[From Hazlitt’s “Characters of Shakespear's Plays.”]
This is a play that in spite of the change of manners and
prejudices still holds undisputed possession of the stage. . . .
In proportion as Shylock has ceased to be a popular bug-
bear, “baited with the rabble's curse,” he becomes a half-
favourite with the philosophical part of the audience, who
are disposed to think that Jewish revenge is at least as good
as Christian injuries. Shylock is a good hater; “a man no
less sinned against than sinning.” If he carries his revenge
too far, yet he has strong grounds for “the lodged hate he
bears Antonio,” which he explains with equal force of elo-
quence and reason. He seems the depositary of the ven-
geance of his race; and though the long habit of brooding
over daily insults and injuries has crusted over his temper
with inveterate misanthropy, and hardened him against the
contempt of mankind, this adds but little to the triumphant
pretensions of his enemies. There is a strong, quick, and
deep sense of justice mixed up with the gall and bitterness
of his resentment. The constant apprehension of being
burnt alive, plundered, banished, reviled, and trampled on,
might be supposed to sour the most forbearing nature, and
to take something from that “milk of human kindness” with
which his persecutors contemplated his indignities. The
desire of revenge is almost inseparable from the sense of
wrong; and we can hardly help sympathizing with the proud
spirit hid beneath his “Jewish gaberdine,” stung to madness
by repeated undeserved provocations, and labouring to throw
off the load of obloquy and oppression heaped upon him and
all his tribe by one desperate act of “lawful” revenge, till
the ferociousness of the means by which he is to execute his
purpose, and the pertinacity with which he adheres to it, turn
us against him ; but even at last, when disappointed of the
* Characters of Shakespear’s Plays, by William Hazlitt (London, 1817),
p. 269 fol.
AAV7'RO/D UC 77OAV. 25
sanguinary revenge with which he had glutted his hopes, and
exposed to beggary and contempt by the letter of the law
on which he had insisted with so little remorse, we pity him,
and think him hardly dealt with by his judges. In all his
answers and retorts upon his adversaries, he has the best
not only of the argument but of the question, reasoning on
their own principles and practice. They are so far from al-
lowing of any measure of equal dealing, of common justice
or humanity between themselves and the Jew, that even
when they come to ask a favour of him, and Shylock re-
minds them that on such a day they spit upon him, another
spurned him, another called him dog, and for these courte-
sies they request he'll lend them so much money, Antonio,
his old enemy, instead of any acknowledgment of the shrewd-
ness and justice of his remonstrance, which would have been
preposterous in a respectable Catholic merchant in those
times, threatens him with a repetition of the same treat-
In ent : * e
I am as like to call thee so again,
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too.
After this, the appeal to the Jew's mercy, as if there were
any common principle of right and wrong between them, is
the rankest hypocrisy or the blindest prejudice. . . .
The whole of the trial-scene, both before and after the en-
trance of Portia, is a masterpiece of dramatic skill. The
legal acuteness, the passionate declamations, the sound max-
ims of jurisprudence, the wit and irony interspersed in it, the
fluctuations of hope and fear in the different persons, and
the completeness and suddenness of the catastrophe, cannot
be surpassed. Shylock, who is his own counsel, defends
himself well, and is triumphant on all the general topics
that are urged against him, and only fails through a legal
flaw. . . . The keenness of his revenge awakes all his facul-
ties; and he beats back all opposition to his purpose, wheth-
er grave or gay, whether of wit or argument, with an equal
26 THE MERCHAAV7" OAE VEAVICE.
degree of earnestness and self-possession. His character is
displayed as distinctly in other less prominent parts of the
play, and we may collect from a few sentences the history
of his life—his descent and origin, his thrift and domestic
economy, his affection for his daughter, whom he loves next
to his wealth, his courtship and his first present to Leah his
wife “I would not have given it (the ring which he first
gave her) for a wilderness of monkeys ſ” What a fine He-
braism is implied in this expression . . .
When we first went to see Mr. Kean in Shylock, we ex-
pected to see, what we had been used to see, a decrepit old
man, bent with age and ugly with mental deformity, grinning
with deadly malice, with the venom of his heart congealed in
the expression of his countenance, sullen, morose, gloomy,
inflexible, brooding over one idea, that of his hatred, and
fixed on one unalterable purpose, that of his revenge. We
were disappointed, because we had taken our idea from oth-
er actors, not from the play. There is no proof there that
Shylock is old, but a single line, “Bassanio and old Shylock,
both stand forth”—which does not imply that he is infirm
with age—and the circumstance that he has a daughter mar-
riageable, which does not imply that he is old at all. It
would be too much to say that his body should be made
crooked and deformed to answer to his mind, which is bowed
down and warped with prejudices and passion. That he has
but one idea is not true; he has more ideas than any other
person in the piece; and if he is intense and inveterate in
the pursuit of his purpose, he shows the utmost elasticity,
vigour, and presence of mind, in the means of attaining it.
But so rooted was our habitual impression of the part from
seeing it caricatured in the representation, that it was only
from a careful perusal of the play itself that we saw our
error. The stage is not in general the best place to study
our author's characters in. It is too often filled with tradi-
tional commonplace conceptions of the part, handed down
AV7'RO/D UC 7/OAV. 27
from sire to son, and suited to the taste of the great vulgar
and the small, “’T is an unweeded garden; things rank and
gross do merely gender in it.”* If a man of genius comes
once in an age to clear away the rubbish, to make it fruit-
ful and wholesome, they cry, “’T is a bad school; it may
be like nature, it may be like Shakespear, but it is not like
us.” Admirable critics |
[From Knight’s “Pictorial Shakspere.”f]
Antonio is one of the most beautiful of Shakspere's char-
acters. He does not take a very prominent part in the
drama: he is a sufferer rather than an actor. We view him,
in the outset, rich, liberal, surrounded with friends; yet he is
unhappy. He has higher aspirations than those which or-
dinarily belong to one dependent upon the chances of com-
merce ; and this uncertainty, as we think, produces his un-
happiness. He will not acknowledge the forebodings of evil
which come across his mind. Ulrici says, “It was the over-
great magnitude of his earthly riches, which, although his
heart was by no means dependent upon their amount, un-
consciously confined the free flight of his soul.” We doubt
if Shakspere meant this. He has addressed the reproof of
that state of mind to Portia, from the lips of Nerissa :
Portia. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great
world.
AVerissa. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the
* Hazlitt is evidently quoting from memory. The reading in Ham. i.
2. I35 is:
’t is an unweeded garden
That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature
Possess it merely.
Shakespeare uses the verb gender only in Oth. iv. 2.63: **
a cistern for foul toads
To knot and gender in.
t Pictorial Edition of Shakspere, edited by Charles Knight (2d ed. Lon-
don, 1867), vol. i. of Comedies, p. 452 fol. (by permission).
28 7 H.A. MAEA’CA/AAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
same abundance as your good fortunes are; and yet, for aught I see,
t/ey are as sick that surfeit with too much as they that starve with nothing.
Antonio may say—
In sooth, I know not why I am so sad ;
but his reasoning denial of the cause of his sadness is a
proof to us that the foreboding of losses—
Enow to press a royal merchant down,
is at the bottom of his sadness. It appears to us as a self.
delusion, which his secret nature rejects, that he says,
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Upon the fortune of this present year :
Therefore, my merchandize makes me not sad.
When he has given the fatal bond, he has a sort of desperate
confidence, which to us looks very unlike assured belief:
Why, fear not, man, I will not forfeit it;
Within these two months, that 's a month before
This bond expires, Z do expect return
Of thrice three times the value of this bond.
And, finally, when his calamity has become a real thing, and
not a shadowy notion, his deportment shows that his mind
has been long familiar with images of ruin:
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 a misery doth she cut me off.
The generosity of Antonio's nature unfitted him for a contest
with the circumstances amid which his lot was cast. The
Jew says—
In low simplicity,
He lends out money gratis.
AVTRO/DOC 7TWOAV. 29
He himself says—
I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures
Many that have at times made moan to me.
Bassanio describes him, as
The kindest man,
The best condition’d and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies.
To such a spirit, whose “means are in supposition ”—whose
ventures are “squander'd abroad "-the curse of the Jew
must have sometimes presented itself to his own prophetic
mind: -
This is the fool that lends out money gratis.
Antonio and his position are not in harmony. But there is
something else discordant in Antonio's mind. This kind
friend—this generous benefactor—this gentle spirit—this
man “unwearied in doing courtesies”—can outrage and in-
sult a fellow-creature, because he is of another creed :
Shylock. Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last;
You spurn'd me such a day; another time
You call’d me dog; and for these courtesies
I’ll lend you thus much moneys.
Antonio. I am as like to call thee so again,
To spet on thee again, to spurn thee too.
Was it without an object that Shakspere made this man, so
entitled to command our affections and our sympathy, act so
unworthy a part, and not be ashamed of the act? Most
assuredly the poet did not intend to justify the indignities
which were heaped upon Shylock; for in the very strongest
way he has made the Jew remember the insult in the prog-
ress of his wild revenge :
Thou call’dst me dog before thou hadst a cause:
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs.
Here, to our minds, is the first of the lessons of charity which
this play teaches. Antonio is as much to be pitied for his
3o 7'HE MAEA’CA/AAV7" OA' VEAV/CAE.
prejudices as the Jew for his. They had both been nurt-
ured in evil opinions. They had both been surrounded by
influences which more or less held in subjection their better
natures. The honoured Christian is as intolerant as the de-
spised Jew. The one habitually pursues with injustice the
subjected man that he has been taught to loathe; the other,
in the depths of his subtle obstinacy, seizes upon the occa-
sion to destroy the powerful man that he has been compelled
to fear. The companions of Antonio exhibit, more or less,
the same reflection of the prejudices which have become to
them a second nature. They are not so gross in their prej-
udices as Launcelot, to whom “the Jew is the very devil
incarnation.” But to Lorenzo, who is about to marry his
daughter, Shylock is a “faithless Jew.” When the unhappy
father is bereft of all that constituted the solace of his home,
and before he has manifested that spirit of revenge which
might well cah for indignation and contempt, he is to the
gentlemanly Salanio “the villain Jew,” and “the dog Jew.”
When the unhappy man speaks of his daughter's flight, he is
met with a brutal jest on the part of Salarino, who, within
his own circle, is the pleasantest of men : “I, for my part,
knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal.” We
can understand the reproaches that are heaped upon Shy-
lock in the trial scene, as something that might come out of
the depths of any passion-stirred nature ; but the habitual
contempt with which he is treated by men who in every oth-
er respect are gentle and good-humoured and benevolent, is
a proof to us that Shakspere meant to represent the struggle
that must inevitably ensue, in a condition of society where
the innate sense of justice is deadened in the powerful by
those hereditary prejudices which make cruelty virtue; and
where the powerless, invested by accident with the means of
revenge, say with Shylock, “The villany you teach me I will
execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruc-
tion.” The climax of this subjection of our higher and bet-
AAV7'RO/DUCTIOM. 3 I
ter natures to conventional circumstances is to be found in
the character of the Jew’s daughter. Young, agreeable, in-
telligent, formed for happiness, she is shut up by her father
in a dreary solitude. One opposed to her in creed gains her
affections; and the ties which bind the father and the child
are broken forever. But they are not broken without com-
punction :
Alack what heinous sin is it in me
To be asham'd to be my father's child.
This is nature. But when she has fled from him—robbed
him—spent fourscore ducats in one night—given his tur-
quoise for a monkey—and, finally, revealed his secrets, with
an evasion of the ties that bound them, which makes one's
flesh creep,
When I was with him,
we see the poor girl plunged into the most wretched contest
between her duties and her pleasures by the force of external
circumstances. We grant, then, to all these our compassion;
for they commit injustice ignorantly, and through a force
which they cannot withstand. Is the Jew himself not to be
measured by the same rule 2 We believe that it was Shak-
spere's intention so to measure him.
When Pope exclaimed of Macklin's performance of Shy-
lock,
This is the Jew
That Shakspere drew
the higher philosophy of Shakspere was little appreciated.
Macklin was, no doubt, from all traditionary report of him,
perfectly capable of representing the subtlety of the Jew's
malice and the energy of his revenge. But it is a question
with us, whether he perceived, or indeed if any actor ever
efficiently represented, the more delicate traits of character
that lie beneath these two great passions of the Jew’s heart.
Look, for example, at the extraordinary mixture of the per-
32 7'HA2 MERCA/AAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
sonal and the national in his dislike of Antonio. He hates
him for his gentle manners:
How like a fawning publican he looks
He hates him, “for he is a Christian ;” he hates him, for that
“he lends out money gratis;” but he hates him more than
all, because
He hates our sacred nation.
It is this national feeling which, when carried in a right di-
rection, makes a patriot and a hero, that assumes in Shylock
the aspect of a grovelling and fierce personal revenge. He
has borne insult and injury “with a patient shrug;' but ever
in small matters he has been seeking retribution:
I am not bid for love, they flatter me;
But yet I 'll go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian.
The mask is at length thrown off—he has the Christian in
his power ; and his desire of revenge, mean and ferocious as
it is, rises into sublimity, through the unconquerable energy
of the oppressed man's wilfulness. “I am a Jew: Hath
not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions,
senses, affections, passions 2 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 2 If you prick us, do we not
bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh 2 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.”
It is impossible, after this exposition of his feelings, that we
should not feel that he has properly cast the greater portion
of the odium which belongs to his actions upon the social
circumstances by which he has been hunted into madness.
He has been made the thing he is by society. In the ex-
treme wildness of his anger, when he utters the harrowing
imprecation,--"I would my daughter were dead at my foot,
AAV7'RO/DOCTYOAV. 33
and the jewels in her ear! Would she were hearsed at my
foot, and the ducats in her coffin ;” the tenderness that be-
longs to our common humanity, even in its most passionate
forgetfulness of the dearest ties, comes across him in the re-
membrance of the mother of that execrated child :—“Out
upon her | Thou torturest me, Tubal : it was my turquoise;
I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor.”
It is in the conduct of the trial scene that, as it appears to
us, is to be sought the concentration of Shakspere's leading
idea in the composition of this drama. The merchant stands
before the Jew a better and a wiser man than when he called
him “dog:”
• 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.
Misfortune has corrected the influences which, in happier
moments, allowed him to forget the gentleness of his nature,
and to heap unmerited abuse upon him whose badge was
sufferance. The Jew is unchanged. But if Shakspere in
the early scenes made us entertain some compassion for his
wrongs, he has now left him to bear all the indignation which
we ought to feel against one “uncapable of pity.” But we
cannot despise the Jew. His intellectual vigour rises su-
preme over the mere reasonings by which he is opposed.
He defends his own injustice by the example of as great an
injustice of everyday occurrence—and no one ventures to
answer him :
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 2
Why sweat they under burdens 2 let their beds
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates
Be season'd with such viands 2 You will answer,
C
34 THA. MAA’ CA/AAV7" OA” WEAV/C.E.
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
It would have been exceedingly difficult for the merchant to
have escaped from the power of the obdurate man, so strong
in the letter of the law, and so resolute to carry it out by the
example of his judges in other matters, had not the law been
found here, as in most other cases, capable of being bent to
the will of its administrators. Had it been the inflexible
thing which Shylock required it to be, a greater injustice
would have been committed than the Jew had finally him-
self to suffer. . . .
Had Shylock relented after that most beautiful appeal to
his mercy, which Shakspere has here placed as the exponent
of the higher principle upon which all law and right are es-
sentially dependent, the real moral of the drama would have
been destroyed. The weight of injuries transmitted to Shy-
lock from his forefathers, and still heaped upon him even by
the best of those by whom he was surrounded, was not so
easily to become light, and to cease to exasperate his nature.
Nor would it have been a true picture of society in the six-
teenth century had the poet shown the judges of the Jew
wholly magnanimous in granting him the mercy which he
denied to the Christian. We certainly do not agree with
the Duke, in his address to Shylock, that the conditions
upon which his life is spared are imposed—
That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit.
Nor do we think that Shakspere meant to hold up these con-
ditions as anything better than examples of the mode in
which the strong are accustomed to deal with the weak.
There is still something discordant in this, the real catas-
trophe of the drama. It could not be otherwise, and yet be
true to nature.
But how artistically has the poet restored the balance of
AVTRODUCTYOA'. 35
pleasurable sensations! Throughout the whole conduct of
the play, what may be called its tragic portion has been re-
lieved by the romance which belongs to the personal fate of
Portia. But after the great business of the drama is wound
up, we fall back upon a repose which is truly refreshing and
harmonious. From the lips of Lorenzo and Jessica, as they
sit in the “paler day” of an Italian moon, are breathed the
lighter strains of the most playful poetry, mingled with the
highest flights of the most elevated. Music and the odours
of sweet flowers are around them. Happiness is in their
hearts. Their thoughts are liſted by the beauties of the earth
above the earth. This delicious scene belongs to what is
universal and eternal, and takes us far away from those bit-
ter strifes of our social state which are essentially narrow
and temporary. And then come the affectionate welcomes,
the pretty, pouting contests, and the happy explanations of
Portia and Nerissa with Bassanio and Gratiano. Here again
we are removed into a sphere where the calamities of fort-
une, and the injustice of man warring against man, may be
forgotten. The poor Merchant is once more happy. The
“gentle spirit” of Portia is perhaps the happiest, for she has
triumphantly concluded a work as religious as her pretended
pilgrimage “by holy crosses.” To use the words of Dr. Ul-
rici, “the sharp contrarieties of right and unright are played
out.”
[From White’s Zutroduction to the Play.*]
We find, then, that the story of this comedy, even to its epi-
sodic part and its minutest incidents, had been told again and
again long before Shakespeare was born—that even certain
expressions in it occur in the works of the preceding authors
—in Giovanni Fiorentino's version of the story of the Bond,
in the story of the Caskets, as told in the Gesta Romanorum,
in the ballad of Gernutus, and in Massuccio di Salerno's
* White's Shakespeare, vol. iv. p. 139.
36 THA. MAEA’CA/AAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
novel about the girl who eloped from and robbed her miserly
father—and it is more than probable that even the combina-
tion of the first two of these had been made before The Mer-
chant of Venice was written. What then remains to Shake-
speare 2 and what is there to show that he is not a plagiar-
ist? Everything that makes The Merchant of Venice what it
is. The people are puppets, and the incidents are all in
these old stories. They are mere bundles of barren sticks
that the poet's touch causes to bloom like Aaron's rod : they
are heaps of dry bones till he clothes them with human flesh
and breathes into them the breath of life. Antonio, grave,
pensive, prudent save in his devotion to his young kinsman,
as a Christian hating the Jew, as a royal merchant despising
the usurer ; Bassanio, lavish yet provident, a generous gentle-
man although a fortune-seeker, wise although a gay gallant,
and manly though dependent; Gratiano, who unites the not
too common virtues of thorough good nature and unselfish-
ness with the sometimes not unserviceable fault of talking for
talk's sake ; Shy/ock, crafty and cruel, whose revenge is as
mean as it is fierce and furious, whose abuse never rises to
invective, and who has yet some dignity of port as the aven-
ger of a nation's wrongs, some claim upon our sympathy as
a father outraged by his only child ; and Porfia, matchless
impersonation of that rare woman who is gifted even more in
intellect than loveliness, and who yet stops gracefully short
of the offence of intellectuality—these, not to notice minor
characters no less perfectly organized or completely devel-
oped after their kind—these, and the poetry which is their
atmosphere, and through which they beam upon us, all radi-
ant in its golden light, are Shakespeare's only ; and these it
is, and not the incidents of old and, but for these, forgotten
tales, that make The Merchant of Venice a priceless and im-
perishable dower to the queenly city that sits enthroned upon
the sea—a dower of romance more bewitching than that of
her moonlit waters and beauty-laden balconies, of adornment
IAWTRO/DOC 7/OAV. 37
more splendid than that of her pictured palaces, of hu-
man interest more enduring than that of her blood-stained
annals, more touching even than the sight of her faded
grandeur.
[From Dowden’s “Shakspere Primer.” “]
The distinction of Portia among Shakspere's women is
the union in her nature of high intellectual powers and de-
cision of will with a heart full of ardour and of susceptibility
to romantic feelings. She has herself never known trouble
or Sorrow, but prosperity has left her generous and quick in
sympathy. Her noble use of wealth and joyous life, sur-
rounded with flowers and fountains and marble statues and
music, stands in contrast over against the hard, sad, and con-
tracted life of Shylock, one of a persecuted tribe, absorbed
in one or two narrowing and intense passions—the love of
the money-bags he clutches and yet fails to keep, and his
hatred of the man who had scorned his tribe, insulted his
creed, and diminished his gains. Yet Shylock is not like
Marlowe's Jew, Barabas, a preternatural monster. Wolf-
like as his revenge shows him, we pity his joyless, solitary
life ; and when, ringed round in the trial scene with hostile
force, he stands firm upon his foothold of the law, there is
something sublime in his tenacity of passion and resolve.
But we feel that it is right that this evil strength should be
utterly crushed and quelled, and when Shylock leaves the
court a broken man, we know it is needful that this should
be so.
The choosing of the caskets shows us Portia, who will
strictly interpret the law of Venice for Shylock and Antonio,
loyally abiding by the provisions which her father has laid
down in her own case. And Bassanio is ennobled in our
eyes by his choice; for the gold, silver, and lead of the
caskets, with their several inscriptions, are a test of true
* Literature Primers: Shakspere, by Edward Dowden, LL.D. (Lon.
don, 1878), p. 95 fol. (by permission). -
*
38 THE MAEA’CA/AAV7" OA, WAZAV/C.E.
lovers. Bassanio does not come as a needy adventurer to
choose the golden casket, or to “gain" or “get ’’ anything,
but in the true spirit of self-abandoning love “to give,” not
to get, “and hazard all he hath ;” and having dared to give
all he gains all.
The lyrical boy-and-girl love of Lorenzo and Jessica
brings out by contrast the grave and glad earnestness of
Portia's love and Bassanio's. Jessica has not a thought of
loyalty to her father—nor is it to be expected. The lyrical
passages between Lorenzo and Jessica in the moonlit gar-
den, ending with the praise of music, contrast with Portia's
generalizing reflections (the wake of thought still undulating
after her great intellectual effort at the trial), suggested by
the light seen and music heard as she approaches her house,
and by her failing to receive any pleasure from the music
which Lorenzo has so eloquently praised.
The comedy must end mirthfully. After the real struggle
and the strain of interest respecting Antonio's fate, we pass
on to the playful differences about the rings; from the court
of justice at Venice we are carried to the luminous night in
the gardens of Belmont. Even Antonio's ships must not be
lost; a moment of happiness after trouble cannot be too
perfect.

T H E M E R C H A N T OF V E N IC E.
DA’AM/477/5 ſºo-wºº.
º º º º
-- I'l-N-E OF Vlºrºccº - -
The Prince on º suitors to Portia.
Antonio, the Merchant of Venice
Bassano, his friend.
Satanto,
Salarino, friends to Antonio and Bassanio.
Gºatiano.
Lorenzo, in love with Jessica.
Suvºock, a Jew.
Tuº, a Jew, his friend.
Laurºlor Gºno, a clown.
On Goºd, father to Launcelot.
Saºrio, a messenger.
Leonardo, servant to Bassania.
º servants to Portia.
Poºrla, a rich heiress.
Neºissa, her waiting-maid.
Jessica, daughter to Shylock.
Magnificoes of Venice. Officers of the Court of Justice.
Gaoler, Servants, and other Attendants.
Scene: Party at ſº and ºty at Belmont.



ARGOSIES.
ACT I.
SCENE I. Venice. A Street.
Anſer ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Antonio. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad :
t wearies me, you say it wearies you ;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 't is made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn ;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
Salarino. Your mind is tossing on the ocean,
There where your argosies with portly sail,

42 THAE A/A2/QCA/AAV7" OA' VAZAV/CAE.
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, IC
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.
Salamio. 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 2O
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me sad.
Sa/arino. My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run
But I should think of shallows and of flats,
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church
And see the holy edifice of stone, 3O
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 though
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought
That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad 2
But tell not me; I know, Antonio
Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 4o
Antonio. Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it,
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted,
Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate
A CT Z. SCEAVE I. 43
Upon the fortune of this present year:
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad.
Salarino. Why, then you are in love.
Antonio. Fie, fiel
Salarino. Not in love neither ? Then let us say you’re sad
Because you are not merry; and ’t were as easy
For you to laugh and leap, and say you ’re merry
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, 50
Nature hath fram’d strange fellows in her time:
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper;
And other of such vinegar aspect
That they’ll not show their teeth in way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Anter 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. 61
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.
Aassanio. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? Say,
when P -
You grow exceeding strange; must it be so -
Salarino. We 'll make our leisures to attend on yours.
sº |Exeunt Salarino and Salamio.
Alorenzo. My Lord Bassanio, since you ’ve found Antonio,
We two will leave you ; but at dinner-time, 70
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. -
Bassanio. I will not fail you.
Gratiano. You look not well, Signior Antonio ;
44 7"HAE /l/AA’ CAAAVZ" OA' VAZAV/CAE.
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 UI hold the world but as the world, Gratiano
A stage where every man must play a partJ
And mine a sad one.
Grafiano. Let me play the fool ;
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, 8O
And let my liver rather heat with wine
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
Why should a man whose blood is warm within
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice
By being peevish 2 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, go
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!’
O my Antonio, I do know of these
That therefore only are reputed wise
For saying nothing; when, I am very sure,
If they should speak, would almost damn those ears
Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools.
I'll tell thee more of this another time ; IOr)
Rut fish not, with this melancholy bait,
For this fool-gudgeon, this opinion.—
Come, good Lorenzo.—Fare ye well a while;
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.
Aorenzo. 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.
A CT Z. SCAEAVAE Z. 45
Grafiano. Well, keep me company but two years moe,
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
Antonio. Farewell; I’ll grow a talker for this gear. I ICB
Gratiano. Thanks, i' faith; for silence is only commendable
In a neat's tongue dried. [AExeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo.
Antonio. Is that any thing now 2
Aassanio. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing,
more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two
grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek
all day ere you find them, and when you have them they
are not worth the search.
Antonio. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, I2O
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of 2
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:
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg’d
From such a noble rate; but my chief care
Is to come fairly off from the great debts
Wherein my time, something too prodigal,
Hath left me gag'd. 1 o you, Antonio, r36
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,
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 I41
The selfsame way, with more advised watch,
46 ZAZE AMAZA’CAE/AAV7 OA' WAEAV/CAE.
To find the other forth ; and by adventuring both
I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof.
Because what follows is pure innocence.
I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth,
That which I owe is lost; but if you please
To shoot another arrow that self way
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt,
As I will watch the aim, or to find both I 50
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 what I should do,
That in your knowledge may by me be done,
And I am prest unto it; therefore speak. 160
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:
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ;
For the four winds blow in from every coast
Renowned suitors; and her sunny locks
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; 17o
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand,
And many Jasons come in quest of her.
O my Antonio, had I but the means
To hold a rival place with one of them,
I have a mind presages me such thrift
That I should questionless be fortunate.
Antonio. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea ;
A C 2" /. SCAEAVE //, 47
Neither have I money nor commodity
To raise a present sum : therefore go forth ;
Try what my credit can in Venice do : 180
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost,
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia.
Go, presently inquire, and so will I,
Where money is, and I no question make
To have it of my trust or for my sake. [Exeunt.
SCENE II. Be/moſlf. A ſºoom in Aºorfia’s House.
Anter PORTIA and NERISSA.
Porfia. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of
this great world.
AVerissa. 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-º.
piness, therefore, to be seated in the mean ; superfluity comes
sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.
Porfia. Good sentences, and well pronounced.
Merissa. They would be better if well followed. 16:
Portia. If to do were as easy as to know what were good
to.do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages
princes’ palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own
instructions; I can easier teach twenty what were good to be
done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.
The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper
leaps o'er a cold decree; such a hare is madness, the youth,
to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, the cripple. But
this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband.
—O me, the word ‘choose l' I may neither choose whom I
would, nor refuse whom I dislike ; so is the will of a living
daughter curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard,
Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none * 23
48 7A/E MAEAECHAM/7" OA' VEAV/CAE.
AVerissa. Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at
their death have good inspirations; therefore the lottery that
he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, and lead
—whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you—will, no
doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one who you shall
rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection tow-
ards any of these princely suitors that are already come 30
Portia. I pray thee, over-name them, and as thou namest
them, I will describe them ; and, according to my description,
level at my affection.
AVerissa. First, there is the Neapolitan prince.
Aortia. Ay, that 's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but
talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great appropriation to
his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself.
AVerissa. Then is there the County Palatine. 38
Aortia. 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 sadness
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 de-
fend me from these two
AVerissa. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le
BOn 2 ,, 47
Aortia. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a
man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker; but, he
why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's, a better
bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine: he is every
man in no man; if a throstle sing, he falls straight a-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.
AVerissa. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young
baron of England? 58
ACT /. SCAEAVE //, 49
Portia. You know I say nothing to him, for he understands
not me, nor I him ; he hath neither Latin, French, nor Ital-
ian, and you will come into the court and swear that I have
a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a proper man's
picture; but, alas ! who can converse with a dumb show 2
How oddly he is suited | I think he bought his doublet in
Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and
his behaviour every where. - 66
AVerissa. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?
Porfia. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ; for he
borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he
would pay him again when he was able: I think the French-
man became his surety and sealed under for another. 71
AVerissa. How like you the young German, the Duke of
Saxony’s nephew 2
Aortia. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and
most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when he is
best, he is a little worse than a man ; and when he is worst,
he is little better than a beast. An the worst fall that ever
fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him.
AVerissa. 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. 81
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, Nerissa, ere I will be mar-
ried to a Sponge.
Merissa. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these
lords: they have acquainted me with their determinations;
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. 9.
Portia. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste
as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's
D
5o 7A/A2 MAZA’CA/AAV7" OAF VAZAV/CAE.
will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for
there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence ;
and I wish them a fair departure. -
AVerissa. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time,
a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in com-
pany of the Marquis of Montferrat 2
Aºorfia. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, so was he
called. IOI
AWerissa. True, madam ; he, of all the men that ever my
foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.
Porfia. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy
of thy praise.
Amfer 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. Io9
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 Com-
plexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than
wive me.
Come, Nerissa.-Sirrah, go before.—
Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another knocks at
the door. |AExeuilt.
SCENE III. Venice. A Pub/ic //ace.
Amſer BASSANIO and SHYLOCK.
Shylock. Three thousand ducats, well.
Aassanio Ay, sir, for three months.
Shylock. For three months, well.
Bassanio For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.
Shylock. Antonio shall become bound,--well.
A CZ" /. SCAEAVAE ///. 5 I
Bassanio. May you stead me? Will you pleasure me?
Shall I know your answer?
Shylock. Three thousand ducats for three months, and An-
tonio bound.
Aassanio. Your answer to that. YO
Shylock. Antonio is a good man.
Bassanio. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?
Shylock. 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, more-
over, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for
England, and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad.
Put ships are but boards, sailors but men : there be land-
rats and water-rats, land-thieves and water-thieves, LI mean
pirates; and then there is the peril of waters, winds, and
rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. Three thou-
sand ducats, I think I may take his bond. 23
Bassanio. Be assured you may.
Shy/ock. I will be assured I may ; and that I may be as-
sured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio
Aassanio. If it please you to dine with us.
Shylock. 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 2–Who is he comes
here 2 33
Anter ANTONIO.
Aassanio. This is Signior Antonio.
Shy/ock. [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks
I hate him for he is a Christian,
But more for that, in low simplicity,
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
52 THE MERCHAAV7 OF VEAV/CAE.
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 4O
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
Aassanio. Shylock, do you hear?
Shy/ock. 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 2
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,
Will furnish me. But soft how many months
Do you desire?—[7b Antonio] Rest you fair, good signior ;
Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
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 'll break a custom.–Is he yet possess'd
How much you would
Shylock. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.
Antonio. And for three months. 6o
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.
Shylock. 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?
Shylock. No, not take interest, not, as you would say, 70
5o
A C 7° N. SCAEAVAZ ///. 53
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. 80
Antonio. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for;
A thing not in his power to bring to pass,
But sway’d and fashion’d by the hand of heaven.
Was this inserted to make interest good?
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ?
Shylock. 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 with a smiling cheek, 90
A goodly apple rotten at the heart. -
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath !
Shylock. Three thousand ducats, ’t is a good round sum.
Three months from twelve, then, let me see the rate.
Antonio. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you?
Shylock. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft,
In the Rialto, you have rated me
About my moneys and my usances;
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. IOO
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 :
54 7A/E MERCHAAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say,
‘Shylock, we would have moneys:' you say so,
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold; moneys is your suit.
What should I say to you? Should I not say, XI O
‘Hath a dog money 2 Is it possible
A cur should lend three thousand ducats 2' Or
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key,
With bated breath and whispering humbleness,
Say this:
‘Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last ;
You spurn’d me such a day; another time
You call'd me dog ; and for these courtesies
I'll lend you thus much moneys *
Antonio. I am as like to call thee So again, # 2 O
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.
Shylock. Why, look you, how you storm
I would be friends with you, and have your love,
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with,
Supply your present wants, and take no doit * 30
Of usance for my moneys, and you 'll not hear me.
This is kind I offer.
Aassamio. This were kindness.
Shylock. 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
A CT Z. SCAEAVAZ ///. 55
Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit
Be nominated for an equal pound
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken I4C
In what part of your body pleaseth me.
Antonio. Content, i' faith ; I’ll 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’ll 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.
Shylock. O father Abram what these Christians are so
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others –Pray you, tell me this:
If he should break his day, what should I gain
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. - 16o
Antonio. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond.
Shy/ock. 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. [AExit.
Antonio. Hie thee, gentle Jew.—
The Hebrew will turn Christian ; he grows kind.
Aassanio. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
Antonio. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; zo
My ships come home a month before the day. |AExeunt.
he
º
-----------
Y. T T |
-
ACT II.
Scene I. Belmont. A room in Portia's House.
Aourº of Corners. Enter the Prince of Morocco and his
train, Portia, NERIssa, and others attending:
Morocco. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow’d livery of the burnish’d sun,
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath fear'd the valiant; by my love, I swear
The best-regarded virgins of our clime --
Have lov’d it too. I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.

A CT /Z. SCEAVE Y. 57
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 2O
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
To try my 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, 30
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while !
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand:
So is Alcides beaten by his page ;
And so may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.
Aſoz/ia. You must take your chance ;
And either not attempt to choose at all,
Or swear, before you choose, if you choose wrong 4C
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage: therefore be advis’d.
Morocco. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance.
Aortia. First, forward to the temple; after dinner
Your hazard shall be made.
58 7'HE A/EA’CA/AAV7" OA' V/AV/CAE.
A/orocco. Good fortune then
To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
[Cornets, and exeunt.
SCENE II. Venice. A Street.
Ander LAUNCELOT.
Zaunceſoſ. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run
from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and
tempts me, saying to me, ‘Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good
Launcelot,” or ‘good Gobbo,” or “good Launcelot Gobbo, use
your legs, take the start, run away.’ My conscience says,
“No ; take heed, honest Launcelot ; take heed, honest Gob-
bo,” or, as aforesaid, ‘honest Launcelot Gobbo ; do not run ;
scorn running with thy heels.’ Well, the most courageous
fiend bids me pack: ‘Via!’ says the fiend ; “away !’ says the
fiend; ‘for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,” says the
fiend, ‘and run.’ Well, my conscience, hanging about the
neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, ‘My honest friend
Launcelot, being an honest man's Son,”—or rather an honest
woman's son, well, my conscience says, “Launcelot, budge
not.’ ‘Budge,’ says the fiend. “Budge not,’ says my con-
science. “Conscience,’ say I, ‘you counsel well;’ ‘Fiend,'
say I, ‘you counsel well ' to be ruled by my conscience, I
should stay with the Jew my master, who, God bless the
mark, is a kind of 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 incarna-
tion ; and, in my conscience, my conscience is a kind of hard
conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The
fiend gives the more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend; my
heels are at your commandment; I will run. 25
Anter Qld Gobbo, with a basket.
Gobbo, Master young man, you ! I pray you, which is the
way to master Jew's 2
A CT //. SCAEAVAE //. 59
Zauncelot. [Aside] O heavens ! this is my true-begotten
father, who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel-blind,
knows me not.—I will try confusions with him. 3C
Gobbo, Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the
way to master Jew's 2
Zauncelot. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning,
but at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the
very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly
to the Jew’s house.
Gobbo. 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 2
Zauncelot. Talk you of young Master Launcelot?—[Aside]
Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters.--|To him] Talk
you of young Master Launceiot 42
Gobbo. 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.
Alaunce/of. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of
young Master Launcelot.
Gobbo. Your worship's friend and Launcelot.
Alauncelot. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech
you, talk you of young Master Launcelot 2 50
Gobbo. Of Launcelot, an 't please your mastership.
Mauncelot. 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.
Gobbo. Marry, God forbid the boy was the very staff of
my age, my very prop.
Launcelot. [Aside] Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post,
a staff or a prop? [To him] Do you know me, father ? 60
Gobbo. Alack the day ! I know you not, young gentleman ;
but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy—God rest his soul —alive
or dead 2
Öo THE MEACCHAAV7" OA' VEAV/CAE.
Zauncelot. Do you not know me, father ?
Gobbo. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not.
Zauncelot. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might
fail of the knowing me ; it is a wise father that knows his
own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son.
[Aneels.] 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. - 7t
Gobbo. Pray you, sir, stand up. I am sure you are not
Launcelot, my boy.
Zauncelot. 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.
Gobbo. I cannot think you are my son.
Zaunce/ot. 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. 8o
Goðba. Her name is Margery, indeed ; I'll be sworn, if
thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord
worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou got thou
hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse
has on his tail.
Alaunceſoſ. 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.
Gołóo. Lord how art thou changed How dost thou
and thy master agree ? I have brought him a present. How
gree you now 2 - QI
Mauncelot. Well, well ; but, for mine own part, as I have
set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run
some ground. My master's a very Jew: give him a present 1.
give him a halter : I am famished in his service ; you may
tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you
are come : give me your present to one Master Bassanio,
who indeed gives rare new liveries; if I serve not him, I will
A CT //. SCAEAVAZ //. 6 I
run as far as God has any ground.—O rare fortune here
comes the man :-to him, father; for I am a Jew if I serve
the Jew any longer. IOI
Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO and other followers.
Bassanio. You may do so; but let it be so hasted that
supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See
these letters delivered ; put the liveries to making, and desire
Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant.
Alaunce/off. To him, father.
Gobbo. God bless your worship !
Bassanio. Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me?
Gobbo. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,
Alauncelot. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s man ;
that would, sir, as my father shall specify, I I I
Gobbo. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to
Sel Ve—
Zauncelot. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the
Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify,
Gobbo. His master and he, saving your worship's rever-
ence, are scarce cater-cousins—
Alauncelot. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew, hav-
ing done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being, I
hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you, - 12C
Gobbo. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow
upon your worship ; and my suit is—
Zauncelot. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself,
as your worship shall know by this honest old man ; and,
though I say it, though old man, yet, poor man, my father.
Aassanio. One speak for both.-What would you ?
Zauncelot. Serve you, sir.
Gobbo. 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, x3a
And hath preferr'd thee; if it be preferment
62 7THE MEA’C/WAAV 7 OF WEAV/C.E.
To leave a rich Jew’s service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.
Maunceloſ. 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 [79 his followers.
More guarded than his fellows’; see it done. I 4O
Alauncelot. Father, in.—I cannot get a service, no ; I have
ne'er a tongue in my head.—Well, if any man in Italy have a
fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a book —I shall
have good fortune.—Go to, here's a 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'll take my leave of the Jew in the
twinkling of an eye. [Exeunt Zauncelot and Old Gobbo.
Bassanio. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this. 152
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.
Jeonardo. My best endeavours shall be done herein.
Amfer GRATIANO.
Grafiano. Where is your master?
Aeonardo. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit.
Gratiano. Signior Bassanio ! w
Aassanio. Gratiano
Grafiano. I have a suit to you.
Aassanio. You have obtain’d it. 160
Gratiano. You must not deny me. I must go with you to
Belmont. -
ACT A/. SCAEAVAE ///. 63
Bassanio. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano:
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice,—
Parts that become thee happily enough
And in such eyes as Ours appear not faults;
But where they are not known, why, there they show
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behaviour 170
I be misconstrued in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes. -
Grafiano. Signior Bassanio, hear me:
If I do not put on a Sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely,
Nay more, 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. - 18o
Bassanio. Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gratiano. Nay, but I bar to-night; you shall not gauge me
By what we do to-night. -
Aassanio. No, that were pity;
I would entreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment. But fare you well;
I have some business.
Grafiano. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest;
But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt.
ScENE III. The Same. A Room in Shylock's House.
Bnter JESSICA and LAUNCELOT.
9essica. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so ;
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
64 7A/A A/ASA’CA/AAV7' OA' VAZAV/C.E.
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness.
But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee.
And, Launcelot, Soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest:
Give him this letter; do it secretly ;
And so farewell; I would not have my father
See me in talk with thee. 9
Zaunce/of. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beauti-
ful pagan, most sweet Jew, adieu ! these foolish drops do
Somewhat drown my manly spirit; adieu !
9essica. Farewell, good Launcelot.— [Exit Zauncelot.
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 GRATIANO, LORENZO, SALARINO, and SALANIO.
Lorenzo. Nay, we will slink away in Supper-time,
Disguise us at my lodging, and return,
All in an hour.
Grafiano. We have not made good preparation.
Salarino. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers.
Salamio. T is vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd,
And better, in my mind, not undertook.
Aorenzo. T is now but four o'clock ; we have two hours
To furnish us.—
Aºnfer LAUNCELOT, zenith a letter.
Friend Launcelot, what 's the news 2 9
Mauncelot. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall
seem to signify.
A C 2" /Z. SCAEAVE V. 65
Morenzo. 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.
Grafiano. Love-news, in faith.
Jaundelof. By your leave, sir.
Zorenzo. Whither goest thou?
Alauncelot. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup
to-night with my new master the Christian.
Lorenzo. Hold here, take this.—Tell gentle Jessica
I will not fail her;-speak it privately. 2O
Go.—Gentlemen, [Axit Zaunceloſ.
Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.
Salarino. Ay, marry, I’ll be gone about it straight.
Salamio. And so will I. p
Morenzo. Meet me and Gratiano
At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
Salarino. 'Tis good we do so. [AExeunt Salarino and Salamio.
Gratiano. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?
Alorenzo. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed
How I shall take her from her father's house, 3C
What gold and jewels she is furnish’d with,
What page's suit she hath in readiness.
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven,
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake;
And never dare misfortune cross her foot,
Unless she do it under this excuse,
That she is issue to a faithless Jew.
Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest.
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. The Same. Before Shylock's House.
Anter SHYLOCK and LAUNCELOT.
Shylock. Well, thou shalt see ; thy eyes shall be thy judge,
E
66 7A/A Al/AEA’CA/AAV7" OA' WAEA//CAE.
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 !
Alaunce/of. Why, Jessical
Shylock. Who bids thee call 2 I do not bid thee call.
Zaunce/off. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do
nothing without bidding.
Ander JESSICA.
Jessica. Call you ? what is your will IO
Shylock. 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'll go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian.—Jessica, my girl,
Look to my house.—I am right loath to go ;
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night.
Zauncelot. I beseech you, Sir, go ; my young master doth
expect your reproach. 2O
Shylock. So do I his. -
Zaunce/off. 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.
Shylock. 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, 3G
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:
A CT //. SCAE AWAZ V/. 67
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.
Zaunce/off. I will go before, sir.—Mistress, look out at win-
dow, for all this: 4O
There will come a Christian by,
Will be worth a Jewess’ eye. [AExit.
Shy/ock. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha 2
Jessica. His words were “Farewell, mistress;' nothing else.
Shy/ock. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder ;
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day
More than the wild-cat: drones hive not with me ;
Therefore I part with him, and part with him
To one that I would have him help to waste
His borrow’d purse.—Well, Jessica, go in ; 5o
Perhaps I will return immediately.
Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you :
Fast bind, fast find ;
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [AExit.
Jessica. Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost,
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. |Za'if.
SCENE VI. Z/he Samue.
Anſe, GRATIANO and SALARINO, masquea.
Grafiano. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo
Desir'd us to make stand.
Sa/arino. His hour is almost past.
Grafia/lo. 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 they are wont
To keep obliged faith unforfeited
68 THE MEA’CA/AAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
Gratiano. That ever holds. Who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down 2
Where is the horse that doth untread again IO
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. 20
Ander LORENZO.
Zorenzo. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode ;
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait:
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives,
I'll watch as long for you then.—Approach ;
Here dwells my father Jew.—Ho! who 's within?
Amſer JESSICA, above, in boy's clothes.
Şessica. Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,
Albeit I’ll swear that I do know your tongue.
Zorenzo. Lorenzo, and thy love.
Jessica. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love indeed,
For who love I so much And now who knows 30
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Zorenzo. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou
art.
9essica. 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 ;
A C 7" //, SCAAWE V/. 69
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy.
Dorenzo. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 4o
%essica. What, must I hold a candle to my shames?
They in themselves, good sooth, are too-too light.
Why, 't is an office of discovery, love ;
And I should be obscur’d.
Alorenzo. So are you, Sweet,
Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once ; -
For the close night doth play the runaway,
And we are stay’d for at Bassanio's feast.
Şessica. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself so
With some more ducats, and be with you straight. [AExit above.
Grafiano. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew.
Morenzo. 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.—
Anter JESSICA, below.
What, art thou come 2—On, gentlemen ; away !
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.
[AExit with %ssica and Salarino.
Enter ANTONIO.
Antonio. Who 's there 2 60
Grafiano. Signior Antonio !
Antonio. Fie, fie, Gratiano where are all the rest ?
'T is nine o'clock ; our friends all stay for you.
No masque to-night: the wind is come about ;
Bassanio presently will go aboard.
I have sent twenty out to seek for you.
7o THE MEA CAAAW T OF VAZAV/C.E.
Gratiano. I am glad on 't ; I desire no more delight
Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII. Belmont. A Room in Porfia’s Aſouse.
A/ourish of cornets. Futer Porti A, with the PRINCE OF
MOROCCO, and their trains.
Aºorfia. 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 bears,
‘Who chooseſh me sha/ gain zwhat many men desire.’
The second, silver, which this promise carries,
‘Who chooseſ/, me shal/ get as much as he deserves.”
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard aſ//he hath.’
How shall I know if I do choose the right? [C)
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 2 -
‘Who chooseſ/, me must give and hazard al/ /*e /lath.’
Must give—for what? For lead : Hazard for lead
This casket threatens. Men that hazard all
Do it in hope of fair advantages:
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 2O
I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead.
What says the silver with her virgin hue?
‘Who chooseſ/i me shall get as much as he deserves.”
As much as he deserves 2 Pause there, Morocco,
And weigh thy value with an even hand :
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,
Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough
May not extend so far as to the lady :
A CT // SCA2AVA2 W//, 7 I
And yet to be afeard of my deserving
Were but a weak disabling of myself. 3o
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 2–
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold :
‘Who chooseth me sha/ 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. 4O
The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now
For princes to come view fair Portia.
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head
Spets in the face of heaven, is no bar
To stop the foreign spirits, but they come,
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.
One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is 't like that lead contains her? 'T were damnation
To think so base a thought; it were too gross 5o
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 2
O sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England
A coin that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold, but that 's insculp'd upon ;
But here an angel in a golden bed
Lies all within.—Deliver me the key ;
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! - 6o
AEortia. There, take it, prince ; and if my form lie there,
Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket.
A/orocco. O hell what have we here 2
72 THE MAZA’ CAAAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
A carrion death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing.
‘A/7 ſhat glisters is not gold;
Often have you /heard that fo/d:
Many a man his life hath sold,
Auf my outside to behold;
Gilded tombs do worms info/d.
Aſad you been as zwise as bold,
Young in Zimbs, in ſudgment o/aſ,
Your answer had not been inscro/7'd :
Aare you Zºe//; 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 with his train.
Portia. A gentle riddance.—Draw the curtains; go.
Let all of his complexion choose me so.
|AExeumſ. Flourish of cornets.
70
SCENE VIII. Venice. A Street.
Anter SALARINO and SALANIO.
Salarino. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail :
With him is Gratiano gone along ;
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not.
Salamio. 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,
TO
A C 7" //. SCA'AWE V///. 73
So strange, outrageous, and so variable,
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets:
‘My daughter O my ducats | O my daughter
Fled with a Christian | O my Christian ducats!
Justice the law my ducats, and my daughter
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, -
Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter
And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones, 2O
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.
Salamio. 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,
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part
The French and English, there miscarried
A vessel of our country richly fraught. 3O
I thought upon Antonio when he told me,
And wish’d in silence that it were not his.
Salamio. You 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; 4O
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,
74 THE A/A A' CA/AAWT OF VEAV/C.E.
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him,
And with affection wondrous sensible
He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted.
Salamio. I think he only loves the world for him. 5C
I pray thee, let us go and find him out, .
And quicken his embraced heaviness
With some delight or other.
Salarino. Do we so. [AExeuilt
SCENE IX. Be/monſ. A Room in Porfia’s House.
Anter NERISSA zenith a Servitor.
AVerissa. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtainstraight:
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.
Flourish of corneſs. Anter the PRINCE OF ARRAGON,
PORTIA, and their trains.
Porfia. Behold, there 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 I (3
Which casket ’t was I chose ; next, if I ſail
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.
Porţia. 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 chooseſh me must give and hazard aſ//ie/lath.’ 20
A CT // SCAAVE IX. 75
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard.
What says the golden chest ? haſ let me see:
‘Who chooseth me shal/ gain what many men desire.”
What many men desire that many may be meant
By the fool multitude, that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach;
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet,
Builds in the weather, on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty.
I will not choose what many men desire, 3C)
Because I will not jump with common spirits
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house;
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear :
‘Who chooseſh me shal/ get as much as he deserves º'
And well said too ; for who shall go about
To cozen fortune and be honourable
Without the stamp of merit 2 Let none presume
To wear an undeserved dignity.
O, that estates, degrees, and offices 4Q
Were not deriv'd corruptly, and that clear honour
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer
How many then should cover that stand bare
How many be commanded that command
How much low peasantry would then be glean’d
From the true seed of honour ; and how much honour
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times,
To be new-varnish’d Well, but to my choice:
‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.”
I will assume desert.—Give me a key for this, SO
And instantly unlock my fortunes here.
[He opens the silver casket.
Aortia. Too long a pause for that which you find there.
Arragon. What's here 2 the portrait of a blinking idiot,
Presenting me a schedule ! I will read it.
76 THE MEACHAAV7" OA' VAZAV/C.E.
How much unlike art thou to Portial
How much unlike my hopes and my deservings
‘Who chooseſh me sha///haze as much as he deserves.”
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head 2
Is that my prize 2 are my deserts no better 2
Aortia. To offend and judge are distinct offices, 60
And of opposed natures.
Arragon. What is here?
‘The fire seven times fried this ;
Seven times fried that fudgment is,
7%at did never choose amiss.
Some there be that shadoze's Kiss,
Such haze but a shadozer's bliss.
7%ere be foo/s alive, Z zwis,
Silver'd o'er ; and so zeyas this.
Zake what wife you will to bed,
A will ever be your head: 70
So be gone; you are sped.’
Still more fool I shall appear
By the time I linger here ;
With one fool's head I came to woo,
But I go away with two.—
Sweet, adieu ! I'll keep my oath,
Patiently to bear my wroth.
|AExeunt Arragon and train.
Aortia. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth.
O, these deliberate fools when they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 8O
AVerissa. The ancient saying is no heresy,
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Aortia. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Amfer a Servant.
Servant. Where is my lady? 4
Aortia. Here ; what would my lord?
A CT /Z. SCAEAVE ZX. 77
Servant. Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify the approaching of his lord,
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets;
To wit, besides commends and courteous breath,
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 90
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.
Porfia. No more, I pray thee; I am half afeard
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee,
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.—
Come, come, Nerissa ; for I long to see
Quick Cupid’s post that comes so mannerly. 99
Merissa. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be [Exeunt.

RIA ſ, TO BRIDGE,
ACT III.
SCENE I. Venice. A Streeſ.
Aylſer SALANIO and SALARINo.
Sa/anzo. Now, what news on the Rialto 2
Salarino. Why, yet it lives there unchecked that Antonio
hath a ship of rich lading wracked on the narrow seas; the
Goodwins, I think they call the place : a very dangerous flat
and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried,
as they say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her
word. 7
Salamio. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever
knapped ginger, or made her neighbours believe she wept
for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without

A CT A/Z. SCAEAVE Z. 79
any slips of prolixity or crossing the plain highway of talk,
that the good Antonio, the honest Antonio, - O that I had
a title good enough to keep his name company l—
Salarino. Come, the full stop.
Salamio. Ha! what sayest thou?—Why, the end is, he
hath lost a ship.
Salarino. I would it might prove the end of his losses |
Salamio. Let me say amen betimes, lest the devil cross
my prayer; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.—
Anter SHYLOCK.
How now, Shylock 2 what news among the merchants 2 20
Shylock. 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.
Salamio. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was
fledged ; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave
the dam.
Shylock. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! - 28
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 2
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 ; what 's that good for 2 to
Shylock. To bait fish withal; if it will feed nothing else, it
will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered
me half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains,
8o 7TA/A2 A/A2A2C//AAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends,
heated mine enemies ; and what 's his reason 2 I am a Jew.
Hath not a Jew eyes 2 hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimen-
sions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food,
hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases,
healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same
winter and summer, as a Christian is 2 If you prick us, do
we not bleed 2 if you tickle us, do we not laugh 2 if you poi-
son us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not re-
venge 2 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 suf-
ferance be, by Christian example * Why, revenge. The vil-
lany you teach me, I will execute; and it shall go hard but
I will better the instruction.
Aºnfer a Servant.
Servant. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house,
and desires to speak with you both. 6o
Salarino. We have been up and down to seek him.
Amfer TUBAL.
Sa/anio. Here comes another of the tribe ; a third cannot
be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew.
[A2xeunz Sa/anio, Salarino, and Servant.
Shylock. How now, Tubal 2 what news from Genoa 2 hast
thou found my daughter 2
Tuba/. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot
find her. - 67
Shylock. Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond gone,
cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort | The curse nev-
er fell upon our nation till now ; I never felt it till now ; two
thousand ducats in that ; and other precious, precious jewels.
I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels
in her ear ! Would she were hearsed at my foot, and the
A CZ" ///. SCA. AWAE /. - - 8 I
ducats in her coffin | No news of them 2–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' my shoulders; no sighs but o' my
breathing; no tears but O’ my shedding. - 79
Tubal. Yes, other men have ill luck too. Antonio, as I
heard in Genoa,
Shylock. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
Tubal. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.
Shylock. I thank God | I thank God Is it true 2 is it true?
Tubal. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the
wrack.
Shylock. I thank thee, good Tubal 1 — Good news, good
news ha, ha!—Where 2 in Genoa
Zºuba/. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one
night fourscore ducats. 90
Shylock. Thoustick'st a dagger in me. I shall never see my
gold again. Fourscore ducats at a sitting ! fourscore ducats!
Zubal. 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 tor-
ture 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. Io,
Zuffal. But Antonio is certainly undone.
Shylock. Nay, that's true, that 's very true. Go, Tubal, fee
me an officer ; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have
the heart of him, if he forfeit ; for, were he out of Venice, I
can make what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and
meet me at our Synagogue: go, good Tubal ; at our syna-
gogue, Tubal. |AExeumſ.
F -
82 7 HE MERCHAM/7" OA' VAZAV/C.E.
zº-
SCENE II. Be/mont. A Room in Porfia's House.
Anter BASSANIO, PortIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and Atten-
dants.
Porfia. I pray you, tarry : pause a day or two
Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong,
I lose your company : therefore forbear a while.
There 's something tells me, but it is not love,
I would not lose you ; and you know yourself,
Hate counsels not in such a quality.
But lest you should not understand me well,—
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, —
I would detain you here some month or two,
Before you venture for me. I could teach you I O
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn ;
So will I never be : so may you miss me;
But if you do, you 'll make me wish a sin,
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes,
They have o'erlook'd me and divided me ;
One half of me is yours, 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, 2O
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 you from election.
Bassanio. Let me choose ;
For as I am, I live upon the rack.
Portia. Upon the rack, Bassanio ! then confess
What treason there is mingled with your love.
Bassanio. None but that ugly treason of mistrust,
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love.
A CZ" ///. SCAEAV/Z //. 83
There may as well be amity and life . 3o
'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.
Aortia. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack,
Where men enforced do speak any thing.
Aassanio. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth.
Aortia. Well then, confess and live.
Aassanio. Confess and love
Had been the very sum of my confession.
O happy torment, when my torturer
Doth teach me answers for deliverance
But let me to my fortune and the caskets.
Aortia. Away, then I am lock'd in one of them ; 40
If you do love me, you will find me out.—
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof.-
Let music sound while he doth make his choice ;
Then, if he lose, he makes a Swan-like end,
Fading in music: that the comparison
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream
And watery death-bed for him. He may win ;
And what is music then 2 Then music is
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow
To a new-crowned monarch ; such it is 50
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear,
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes,
With no less presence, but with much more love,
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy
To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice ;
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives,
With bleared visages, come forth to view -
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules | 60
Live thou, I live.—With much more dismay -
I view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray.
84 TA/A2 A/A2A’ CA/AAV7" OA' VAZAV/CAE.
A Song, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself.
Ze// me where is fancy bred,
Or in the /earſ or in the head'?
Aſozy begot, how nourished 2
A’ép/y, 76%/y.
At is engender'd in the eyes,
With gazing fed; and fancy dies
An ſhe crad/e zeyhere ºf Zies.
Met us all ring fancy's kne//; 7e
A 'ZZ begin it, ZXing, dong, bell.
All. ZXing, dong, be/Z.
Aassanio. 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? 3o
There is no vice so simple but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts :
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk;
And these assume but valour’s excrement
To render them redoubted Look on beauty,
And you shall see 't is purchas'd by the weight,
Which therein works a miracle in nature, 90
Making them lightest that wear most of it.
So are those crisped snaky golden locks,
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind,
Upon supposed fairness, often known
A C 7" ///. SCAAWA: //. 8
To be the dowry of a second head,
The skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore
To a most dangerous sea, the beauteous Scarf
Veiling an Indian beauty;-in a word,
The seeming truth which cunning times put on HOO
To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold,
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee;
Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge
'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre lead,
Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught,
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence ;
And here choose I. Joy be the consequence
Portia. [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air,
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair,
And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy I IO
O love be moderate; allay thy ecstasy;
In measure rain thy joy; Scant this excess.
I feel too much thy blessing; make it less,
Fol fear I surfeit. *
Aassanto. What find I here 2
[Opening the leaden casket.
Fair Portia's counterfeit ! What demigod
Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes?
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine,
Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd lips,
Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs I2O
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 2 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
86 7A/AE MAEA’CA/AAV7" OA' VAZAV/CAE.
In underprizing it, so far this shadow
Doth limp behind the substance.—Here's the scroll,
The continent and summary of my fortune. 130
‘You that choose not by the view,
Chance as fair, and choose as true /
Since this fortune ſa//s fo you,
Ae content and seek no mezeſ.
Af you be weſ/?ſeas'd with this,
And hold your fortune for your bliss,
Zhurn you where your lady is,
And claim her with a loving Kiss.”
A gentle scroll.—Fair lady, by your leave ;
I come by note, to give and to receive. [Åissing her.
Like one of two contending in a prize, I4 I
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes,
Hearing applause and universal shout,
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
Whether those peals of praise be his or no ;
So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so,
As doubtful whether what I see be true,
Until confirm’d, sign'd, ratified by you.
Aortia. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
Such as I am : though for myself alone I 53
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 16o
But she may learn ; happier than this,
Acz /// SCEAE // 87
She is not bred so dull but she can learn ;
Happiest of all in that her gentle spirit
Commits itself to yours to be directed,
As from her lord, her governor, her king.
Myself and what is mine to you and yours
Is now converted : but now I was the lord
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now,
This house, these servants, and this same myself 170
Are yours, my lord. I give them with this ring;
Which when you part from, lose, or give away,
Let it presage the ruin of your love,
And be my vantage to exclaim on you.
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, 18o
Where every something, being blent together,
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy,
Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence;
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead
AVerissa. 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,
J. wish you all the joy that you can wish, 190
For I am sure you can wish none from me; ,
And when your honours mean to solemnize
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you,
Even at that time I may be married too.
Bassanio. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
Grafiano. I thank your lordship, you have got me one.
88 THE MEACHAAV7" OA’ I’AºAV/CAE.
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours:
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ;
You lov’d, I lov’d ; for intermission
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 2OO
Your fortune stood upon the caskets there,
And so did mine too, as the matter falls ;
For wooing here until I sweat again,
And swearing till my very roof was dry
With oaths of love, at last, if promise last,
I got a promise of this fair one here
To have her love, provided that your fortune
Achiev'd her mistress.
Aorfia. Is this true, Nerissa 2
AVerissa. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal.
Aassanio. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? 2 I C)
Grafiano. Yes, faith, my lord.
Aassanio. Our feast shall be much honour’d in your marriage.
Grafiano. But who comes here 2 Lorenzo and his infideſ 2
What! and my old Venetian friend, Salerio 2
Anter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALERIO, a messenger
from Venice.
Aassanio. 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.
Aorfia. So do I, niy lord ;
They are entirely welcome. 229
Zorenzo. I thank your honour.—For my part, my lord,
My purpose was not to have seen you here;
But meeting with Salerio by the way,
He did entreat me, past all saying nay,
To come with him along.
Salerio. I did, my lord ;
A C 7" ///. SCAA/E //, 89
And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio
Commends him to you. |Gives Bassanio a letter.
Jºassaſſio. 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 ;
Nor well, unless in mind ; his letter there 230
Will show you his estate.
Grafiano. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome.—
Your hand, Salerio; what 's the news from Venice 2
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
Porfia. 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 2 -1G
Could turn so much the constitution
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse 2–
With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself,
And I must freely have the half of any thing
That this same paper brings you.
Aassanio. O sweet Portia,
Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words
That ever blotted paper Gentle lady,
When I did first impart my love to you,
I freely told you, all the wealth I had
Ran in my veins—I was a gentleman : 250
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,
90 THA: AMAEA’CA/AAV7" OA' PAEAV/CAE.
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, 260
Issuing life-blood.—But is it true, Salerio?
Have all his ventures fail'd 2 What, not one hit 2
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England,
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India,
And not one vessel Scape the dreadful touch
Of merchant-marring rocks?
Sa/erio. Not one, my lord.
Besides, it should appear, that if he had
The present money to discharge the Jew,
He would not take it. Never did I know
A creature that did bear the shape of man, 270
So keen and greedy to confound a man.
He plies the duke at morning and at night,
And doth impeach the freedom of the state,
If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants,
The duke himself, and the magnificoes
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ;
But none can drive him from the envious plea
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond.
Şessica. When I was with him I have heard him swear
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, 28C,
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.
Aortia. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?
Aſſassanio. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,
The best-condition’d and unwearied spirit
In doing courtesies; and one in whom
The ancient Roman honour more appears 200
Than any that draws breath in Italy.
A C 7" ///. SCAAVAZ /// 9 I
Aorfia. What sum owes he the Jew?
A assanto. For me, three thousand ducats.
Aorfia. - 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 3OO
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold
To pay the petty debt twenty times over ;
When it is paid, bring your true friend along.
My maid Nerissa and myself, mean time,
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away !
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day.
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer;
Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear-
But let me hear the letter of your friend. 309
Bassanio. [Reads] ‘Sweet Bassanio, my shifts have all mis-
carried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond
to the Şew is forfeit; and since, in paying it, it is impossible /
should ſize, al/ debts are cleared between you and Z, if Z might
see you at my death. Moſzeithstanding, use your pleasure; if
your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.’
Porfia. 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,
No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, 319
Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. Venice. A Street.
Fufer SHYLock, SALARINO, ANTONIO, and Gaoler.
Shylock. Gaoler, look to him ; tell not me of mercy.—
92 7 'A'A2 MAZA’CA/AAV7" OA' WAEAV/CAE.
This is the fool that lends out money gratis.-
Gaoler, look to him.
Antonio. Hear me yet, good Shylock.
Shylock. I'll have my bond ; speak not against my bond:
I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond.
Thou call’dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ;
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs.
The duke shall grant me justice.—I do wonder,
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond
To come abroad with him at his request. IO
Antonio. I pray thee, hear me speak.
Shylock. I’ll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak:
I’ll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more.
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
To Christian intercessors. Follow not; --
I'll have no speaking: I will have my bond. [Exit.
Sa/arino. It is the most impenetrable cur
That ever kept with men.
Antonio. Let him alone ;
I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 2O
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 so
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore go ;
These griefs and losses have so bated me
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh
AC 7' W//. SCAEAVA. M. V. 93
To-morrow to my bloody creditor.—
Well, gaoler, on.—Pray God, Bassanio come
To see me pay his debt, and then I care not [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. Be/mont. A Room in Aortia’s Aſouse.
Anter PORTIA, NERISSA, LORENzo, JESSICA, and BALTHASAR.
Morenzo. 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.
Aortia. I never did repent for doing good, I O
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 2O
From out the state of hellish cruelty
This comes too near the praising of myself;
Therefore no more of it: hear other things.
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands
The husbandry and manage of my house
Until my lord's return ; for mine own part,
I have toward heaven breath'd a secret vow
To live in prayer and contemplation,
94 7A/A. MAA’ CA/AAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
Only attended by Nerissa here,
Until her husband and my lord's return. 3o
There is a monastery two miles off,
And there will we abide. I do desire you
Not to deny this imposition,
The which my love and some necessity
Now lays upon you.
Alorenzo. Madam, with all my heart;
I shall obey you in all fair commands.
Aortia. 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. 4O
Zorenzo. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!
Jessica. I wish your ladyship all heart’s content.
Aortia. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas'd
To wish it back on you ; fare you well, Jessica.—
[AEaccumf Jessica and Zorenzo.
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 ; 5o
And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee,
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed
Unto the tranect, to the common ferry
Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words,
But get thee gone; I shall be there before thee.
Aalthasar. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [Exit.
Aortia. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand
That you yet know not of. We’ll see our husbands
Before they think of us.
AWerissa. Shall they see us?
Zorfia. They shall, Nerissa, but in such a habit, 6ſ,
A CT ZZZ. SCAEAVE V. 95
That they shall think we are accomplished
With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager,
When we are both accoutred like young men,
I’ll prove the prettier fellow of the two,
And wear my dagger with the braver grace,
And speak between the change of man and boy
With 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, 7c,
Which I denying, they fell sick and died ;
I could not do withal : then I'll repent,
And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them.
And twenty of these puny lies I’ll tell,
That men shall swear I have discontinued school
Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks,
Which I will practise.
But come, I’ll tell thee all my whole device
When I am in my coach, which stays for us 8o
At the park gate ; and therefore haste away,
For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [AExeumſ.
SCENE V. Z%e Same. A Gardem.
Anter LAUNCELOT and JESSICA.
Alauncelot. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the father
are to be laid upon the children: therefore, I promise you,
I fear you. I was always plain with you, and so now I
speak my agitation of the matter; therefore be of good
cheer, for truly I think you are damned. There is but one
hope in it that can do you any good.
Şessica. And what hope is that, I pray thee 2
Alauncelot. Marry, you may partly hope that you are not
the Jew’s daughter. - 9
96 THE //EA’ CAAAV7" OA' VAZAV/C.E.
Şessica. So the sins of my mother should be visited upon me.
Alauncelot. Truly then I fear you are damned both by fa-
ther and mother; thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I 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. --
Zaunce/ot. 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 we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly
have a rasher on the coals for money. 2O
Amfer LORENZO.
Jessica. I 'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say :
here he comes.
Zorenzo. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot.
Jessica. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo ; Launcelot
and I are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for me
in heaven, because I am a Jew’s daughter; and he says, you
are no good member of the commonwealth, for in converting
Jews to Christians you raise the price of pork. 28
Zorenzo. 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.
Alaunce/off. That is done, Sir ; they have all stomachs.
Zorenzo. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you ! then
bid them prepare dinner.
Mauncelot. That is done too, sir; only, cover is the word.
Iorenzo. Will you cover then, sir?
Zauncelot. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty.
Zorenzo. Yet more quarrelling with occasion | Wilt thou
show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray thee,
understand a plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy fel-
lows; bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we
will come in to dinner. 42
A CT ///. SCAEAVE V. 97
Launcelot. For the table, sir, it shall be served in ; for the
meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your coming in to dinner, sir,
why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern. [Exit.
Alorenzo. 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 5C
Defy the matter.—How cheer'st thou, Jessica?
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the lord Bassanio's wife 2
Jessica. Past all expressing. It is very meet
The lord Bassanio live an upright life ;
For, having such a blessing in his lady,
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ;
And if on earth he do not mean it, then
In reason he should never come to heaven.
Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match, 6o
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. -
Alore/120. Even such a husband
Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.
Şessica. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.
Zorenzo. I will anon ; first, let us go to dinner. -
Jessica. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.
Zorenzo. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;
Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things 70
I shall digest it.
Jessica. Well, I'll set you forth. [AExeu it.
G
COLOINNA DE OF DUCAL PA I. ACE, VENICE.
ACT IV.
SCENE I, Penice. A Courſ of 9/stice.
Antez f/he DUKE, the Magnificoes, ANTONIO, BASSANIC,
GRATIANO, SALERIO, and of/hers.
API/AEe. What, is Antonio here 2
Anſonio. Ready, so please your grace.
Duke. I am sorry for thee; thou art come to answer
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch
Uncapable of pity, void and empty
From any dram of mercy.
Azuſonio. 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
7

A CT / V. SCAEAVAZ Z. 99
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose IO
My patience to his fury, and am arm'd
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
The very tyranny and rage of his.
Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
Salerio. He is ready at the door; he comes, my lord.
Enter SHYLOCK.
APuće. 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 'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange 2O
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;
And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh,
Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,
But, touch'd with human gentleness and love,
Forgive a moiety of the principal;
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
That have of late so huddled on his back,
Enow to press a royal merchant down,
And pluck commiseration of his state 3o
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.
Shylock. I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose :
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn
To have the due and forfeit of my bond.
If you deny it, let the danger light
Upon your charter and your city's freedom.
You 'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 4O
A weight of carrion flesh than to receive
Three thousand ducats. I’ll not answer that;
* *
dº wº o° •
* : « e . . . " ... • * ,
* * sº • * * * * , §
e *: -- *
sº e
sº tº & sº sº
IOO 7A/AE A/A2A’CA/AAV7" OA' VAZAV/CAE.
But, say, it is my humour: is it answer'd :
What if my house be troubled with a rat,
And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats
To have it ban'd? What, are you answer'd yet?
Some men there are love not a gaping pig ;
Some, that are mad if they behold a cat:
Masters of passion sway it to the mood
Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer: SO
As there is no firm reason to be render'd
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig,
Why he a harmless necessary cat,
So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
More than a lodg’d hate and a certain loathing
I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd 2
Bassanio. This is no answer, thou unfeeling mali,
To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
Shylock. I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
Aassanio. Do all men kill the things they do not love 2 6,
Shylock. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
Aassamio. Every offence is not a hate at first.
Shylock. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee
twice 2
Antonio. I pray you, think you question with the Jew.
You may as well go stand upon the beach,
And bid the main flood bate his usual height;
You may as well use question with the wolf
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb,
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 76
To wag their high tops and to make no noise,
When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven;
You may as well do any thing most hard,
As seek to soften that—than which what 's harder -–
His Jewish heart. Therefore, I do beseech you,
Make no more offers, use no farther means,
*
*
* >
:
A CT /V. SCAEAVE M. IOI
But with all brief and plain conveniency
Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will.
Aassanio. For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
Shylock. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 8o
Were in six parts, and every part a ducat,
I would not draw them ; I would have my bond.
Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none
Shylock. 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 90
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates -
Be season'd with such viands 2 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?
AXuke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court,
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, IOO
Whom I have sent for to determine this,
Come here to-day. -
*Sa/erio. My lord, here stays without
A messenger with letters from the doctor,
New come from Padua.
AXuke. Bring us the letters; call the messenger.
Aassanio. 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.
Antonio. I am a tainted wether of the flock,
Meetest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit I IO
I O2 **, * , . * 7&E Al/AEA’CA/AAV7" OA' VEAV/CAE.
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me.
You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio,
Than to live still and write mine epitaph.
Anter NERISSA, dressed like a Zazeyer's clerk.
ZJuke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario 2
Aerissa. 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. Not on thy sole, but on thy Soul, harsh Jew,
Thou mak’st thy knife keen ; but no metal can,
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness I 2 C,
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.YThy currish spirit
Govern'd a wolf, who, hahg'd for human slaughter.
Even from the gållows did his fell soul fleet, I 3G
And, whilst thoulay'st in thy unhallow'd dam,
Infus'd itself in thee lº. thy desires
Are wolvish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous.
Shylock. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud.
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
To cureless ruin.—I stand here for law.
AXuàe. This letter from Bellario doth commend
A young and learned doctor to our court.—
Where is he 2
AVerissa. He attendeth here hard by, I40
To know your answer, whether you 'll admit him.
A C 7' W.W. SCAAVA. Z. Io3
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. I 44
CZerk. [Reads] ‘Your grace shal/ understand that at the re-
ceipt of your letter / am very sick: but in the instant that your
messenger came, in loving Zisitation zeas with me a young doctor
of Æome; his name is Balthasar. Z acquainted him with the
cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant;
we turned o'er many books together: he is furnished with my
opinion, which, bettered with his own learning, the greatness
whereof Z cannot enough commend, comes with him, at my im-
Aortunity, to fill up your grace's request in my stead. Z beseech
you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a rev-
erend estimation; for Z never Áneze, so young a body with so old
a head. A leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial
sha/Z better pub/ish his commendation.’
ZJuke. 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? 16o
Aortia. I did, my lord.
AJuáe. You are welcome ; take your place.
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the court 2
Aortia. I am informed throughly of the cause.
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew
APuke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.
Aortia. Is your name Shylock?
Shylock. Shylock is my name.
Aortia. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow,
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.— 170
You stand within his danger, do you not *
Antonio. Ay, So he says.
IO4 7A/AE /l/AA’CA/AAV7" OA' WAZAV/CAE.
A-orfia. Do you confess the bond
Antonio. I do. -
Aºorfia. Then must the Jew be merciful.
Shylock. 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 ; 180
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above this sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us IQo
Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea,
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.
Shylock. 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; 200
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,
A C 7 / V. SCA2AWAE /. 105
Wrest once the law to your authority;
To do a great right, do a little wrong,
And curb this cruel devil of his will.
Aortia. It must not be. There is no power in Venice
Can alter a decree established ; 2 I C)
'T will be recorded for a precedent,
And many an error by the same example
Will rush into the state. It cannot be. -
Shylock. A Daniel come to judgment 1 yea, a Daniel !
C wise young judge, how do I honour thee!
Aortia. I pray you, let me look upon the bond.
Shylock. Here 't is, most reverend doctor, here it is.
Aortia. 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? 22O
No, not for Venice.
Aorfia. Why, this bond is forfeit ;
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off
Nearest the merchant’s heart.—Be merciful:
Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.
Shylock. When it is paid according to the tenour.—
It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
You know the law; your exposition
Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law,
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, . 23o
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.
Porfia. Why then, thus it is:
You must prepare your bosom for his knife.
Shylock. O noble judge O excellent young man
Portia. For the intent and purpose of the law
Ioé THE MERCHANT OF VEAV/C.E.
Hath full relation to the penalty,
Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 24C
Shylock. 'T is very true. O wise and upright judge
How much more elder art thou than thy looks
Aortia. Therefore lay bare your bosom.
Shylock. Ay, his breast;
So says the bond—doth it not, noble judge 2–
Nearest his heart; those are the very words.
*ortia. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh
The flesh P
Shylock. I have them ready.
Aortia. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge,
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
Shylock. Is it so nominated in the bond 2 25O
Portia. It is not so express'd ; but what of that?
'T were good you do so much for charity.
Shylock. 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, 26o
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow
An age of poverty; from which lingering penance
Of such misery doth she cut me off.
Commend me to your honourable wife:
Tell her the process of Antonio's end ;
Say how I 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; 270
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
. I 'll pay it instantly with all my heart.
A CT / V. SCAE AWA. Z. I of
Bassamio, Antonio, I am married to a wife
Which is as dear to me as life itself;
But life itself, my wife, and all the world,
Are not with me esteem’d above thy life:
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all
Here to this devil, to deliver you.
Portia. Your wife would give you little thanks for that,
If she were by to hear you make the offer. 280
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.
Merissa. T is well you offer it behind her back;
The wish would make else an unquiet house.
Shylock. [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 Portial We trifle time; I pray thee, pursue sentence.
Portia. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine; 290
The court awards it, and the law doth give it.
Shylock. Most rightful judge
Porfia. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast;
The law allows it, and the court awards it.
Shylock. Most learned judge l—A sentence 1 Come, pre-
pare - -
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 3oo
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
Unto the state of Venice.
Gratiano, O upright judge – Mark, Jew l—O learned
judge -
Io8 THE MAZA’CA/4 AV7" OA' VAZAV/CAE.
Shylock. Is that the law
Aozºza. Thyself shalt see the act;
For, as thou urgest justice, be assur’d
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.
* Grafiano. O learned judge l—Mark, Jew 1–a learned
judge |
Shylock. I take this offer, then ; pay the bond thrice,
And let the Christian go.
Aassanzo. Here is the money. 3IO
Aorfia. Soft
The Jew shall have all justice;—soft no haste:—
He shall have nothing but the penalty.
*Grafiano. O Jew an upright judge, a learned judge
Aortia. 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 bºt so much
As makes it light or heavy in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part 32c
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!
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. -
Aortia. Why doth the Jew pause?—Take thy forfeiture.
Shylock. Give me my principal, and let me go.
Bassanio. I have it ready for thee; here it is.
Porfia. He hath refus'd it in the open court;
He shall have merely justice, and his bond. - 33O
~Grafiano. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel !
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
Shylock. Shall I not have barely my principal:
Portia. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
Shylock. Why, then the devil give him good of it !
I'll stay no longer question.
A CT / V. SCAEAVE A. 1 og
Aortia. 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 - 340
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, 35%
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.
-- Gratiano. Beg that thou maySt have leave to hang thyself:
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge.
Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits,
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it. 360
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.
Shylock. 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 2
``Grafiano. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God’s sake. 376
Antonio. So please my lord the duke and all the court
I IO ZTAFE MAZA’CA/AAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
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,
l]pon his death, unto the gentleman
That lately stole his daughter:
Two things provided more, that, for this favour,
He presently become a Christian ;
The other, that he do record a gift,
Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, 380
Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.
AXuße. He shall do this, or else I do recant
The pardon that I late pronounced here.
Aortia. Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say:
Shylock. I am content.
Aorfia. Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
Shylock. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
I am not well. Send the deed after me, -
And I will sign it.
AXuke. Get thee gone, but do it.
Gratiano. In christening thou shalt have two godfathers;
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, 39-
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. [AExit Shylock.
Puke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. /
Aortia. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon ;
I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meet I presently set forth.
1)uke. 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
Aassanio. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 4OO
Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
A CT / V. SCAEAVE /. III
Antonio. And stand indebted, over and above
In love and service to you evermore.
Portia. He is well paid that is well satisfied;
And I, delivering you, am satisfied,
And therein do account myself well paid:
My mind was never yet more mercenary.
I pray you, know me when we meet again ; I 41o
I wish you well, and so I take my leave.
Bassanio. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further;
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you,
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.
Portia. You press me far, and therefore I will yield.—
| To Antonio] Give me your gloves, I’ll wear them for your
sake;— -
[Zb Bassanio] And, for your love, I'll take this ring from
you.— -
Do not draw back your hand ; I’ll take no more,
And you in love shall not deny me this. 42O
Bassanio. This ring, good sir, –alas ! it is a trifle;
I will not shame myself to give you this. -
Aortia. 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 436
You teach me 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’scuse serves many men to save their gifts
An if your wife be not a mad woman,
II 2 THA MEA’CA/AAV7" OA' WAEAV/C.E.
And know how well I have deserv'd the ring,
She would not hold out enemy for ever,
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!
[Exeunt Porfia and Merissa
Antonio. My lord Bassanio, let him have the ring; 4 O
Let his deservings and my love withal
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandement.
Aassanio. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him;
Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst,
Unto Antonio's house: away make haste.-[AExit Grafiano,
Come, you and I will thither presently; -
And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont; come, Antonio. [AExcunt.
SCENE II. The Same. A Street.
Anſer PORTIA and NERISSA.
Portia. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed,
And let him sign it; we 'll away to-night,
And be a day before our husbands home.
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
º A.7tſer GRATIANO.
Grafiano. Fair sir, you are well O'erta'en;
My lord Bassanio, upon more advice,
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat
Your company at dinner.
Aorfia. That cannot be.
His ring I do accept most thankfully,
And so, I pray you, tell him ; furthermore, IO
I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house.
Gratiano. That will I do.
AVerissa. Sir, I would speak with you, --
Aside to Porfia] I’ll see if I can get my husband's ring,
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.
A CZ" / P. SCAEAVE /Z. II3
Aortia. [Aside to Merissa] Thou mayst, I warrant. We
shall have old swearing
That they did give the rings away to men;
But we’ll outface them, and outswear them too.
Away! make haste; thou know'st where I will tarry.
Averissa. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?
[Exeumſ.
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ACT V.
SCENE I. Ae/mont. A zenze ſo AEorfia’s House.
Anter LORENZO and JESSICA.
Zorenzo. The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
And they did make no noise—in such a night,
Troilus methinks mounted the Trojan walls,
And sigh’d his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.
9essica, In such a night,
Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself,
And ran dismay’d away. -
Alorenzo. In such a night,
Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 20
Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.
Şessica. In such a night,
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
That did renew old AEson.

Acz v. SceME 1. - I I5
Morenzo. 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. -
Zorenzo. In such a night, 2G
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
Jessica. I would out-night you, did nobody come;
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
Enter STEPHANO.
Lorenzo. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Stephano. 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 30
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours.
Alorenzo. Who comes with her 2
Stephano. None but a holy hermit and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet return'd?
Morenzo. 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.
Anter LAUNCELOT.
Mauncelot. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
Aorenzo. Who calls? 4G
II6 THA, MEACCHAAV7" OA' VEAV/C.E.
Alauncelot. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo and Mistress
Lorenzo? sola, sola! -
Aorenzo. Leave hollaing, man ; here.
J.aunce/of. Sola! where? where?
A.orenzo. Here.
Zaunce/ot. Tell him there 's a post come from my master,
with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere
morning. [AExit
Morenzo. Sweet Soul, let’s in, and there expect their coming.
And yet no matter; why should we go in 2– 50
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.— [AExit Stephano.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:
There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 6o
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.—
Anter Musicians.
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music. [Music.
Şessica. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
Iorenzo. The reſ son is, your spirits are attentive: 70
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
A C7' W. SCAEAVA. Z. I 17
Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand.
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze
By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods;
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov’d with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus.
Let no such man be trusted.—Mark the music.
8o
Anter PORTIA and NERISSA.
Portia. That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams! 90
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
AVerissa. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
Aortia. 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!
AVerissa. It is your music, madam, of the house.
Aortia. Nothing is good, I see, without respect;
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. * I Oo
AVerissa. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Aortia. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
When neither is attended; and I think
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren,
118 ZAZE MERCHAM/T OF VEAV/CAE.
How many things by season season’d are
To their right praise and true perfection -—
Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd. [Music ceases.
Morenzo. That is the voice, I IQ
Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.
Portia. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
By the bad voice.
Alorenzo. Dear lady, welcome homes
Portia. We have been praying for our husbands’ welfare,
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd?
Morenzo. Madam, they are not yet;
But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.
Aorfia. Go in, Nerissa;
Give order to my servants that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence;— I2O
Nor you, Lorenzo;-Jessica, nor you. [A fucket sounds.
Dorenzo. 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.
$ | Aºnfer BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their
followers.
Aassanio. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walk in absence of the sun.
Porţia. Let me give light, but let me not be light;
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 13o
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.
A C 7" V. SCAEAVE Z. I I9
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. No more than I am well acquitted of
Porfia. Sir, you are very welcome to our house;
It must appear in other ways than words, 14O
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
Gratiano. [To Merissa] 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 world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, ‘Love me, and leave me not.’
Merissa. What talk you of the poesy or the value 2
You swore to me, when I did give it you, 15o
That you would wear it till the hour of death,
And that it should lie with you in your grave;
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should have been respective and have kept it.
Gave it a judge's clerk 1 but well I know
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on ’s face that had it,
Grafiano. He will, an if he live to be a man.
AVerissa. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
Grafiano. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, 16o
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk,
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee ;
I could not for my heart deny it him.
Portia. You were to blame, I must be plain with you,
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
I 2 O TAZAZ AZAA’ CAAAW 7" OA' VEAV/CAE.
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands:
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it. 17o
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief;
An 't were to me, I should be mad at it.
Bassanio. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off.
And swear I lost the ring defending it.
Grafiano. 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 ; 18o
And neither man nor master would take aught
But the two rings.
Aorfia. What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.
Bassanto. 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.
AVerissa. Nor I in yours,
Till I again see mine.
Aassanto. Sweet Portia, 190
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
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,
A C 7" V. SCAEAVE /. I 2 I
You would not then have parted with the ring. 2OO
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to have defended it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony
Nerissa teaches me what to believe ;
I’ll die for ’t but some woman had the ring.
Aassanio. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor, .
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, 2 IO
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away, .
Even he that did uphold the very life
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ?
I was enforc'd to send it after him ;
I was beset with shame and courtesy;
My honour would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady;
For, by these blessed candles of the night,
Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 22O
Aortia. 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’ll not deny him any thing I have.
Antonio. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.
Aortia. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome notwith-
standing.
Aassanio. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong ;
And, in the hearing of these many friends,
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, - 230
Wherein I see myself—
Aorfia. Mark you but that!
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself;
I 2.2 THE MERCHANT OF VEN/CE.
In each eye, one !—Swear by your double self,
And there 's an oath of credit.
Aassando. Nay, but hear me:
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear
I never more will break an oath with thee.
Antonio. I once did lend my body for his wealth,
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,
Had quite miscarried ; I dare be bound again,
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 24o
Will never more break faith advisedly.
Portia. 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
Aortia. You are all amaz'd.
Here is a letter: read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario. -
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor,
Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here 250
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; ace
For here I read for certain that my ships
Are safely come to road.
Aorfia. How now, Lorenzo
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
Merissa. Ay, and I’ll give them him without a fee.—
There do I give to you and Jessica,
A C 7' W. SCAEAVE 7. I 23
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.
Aortia. It is almost morning,
And yet 1 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.
27c
[AExeunt.

ORD CHURCH.
*
A ND STRATH
THE AWON

N O T E S.
ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES.
Abbott (or Gr.), Abbott's Shakespearian Grammar.
A. S., Anglo-Saxon.
B. and F., Beaumont and Fletcher.
B. J., Ben Jonson.
Cf. (confer), compare.
Coll. MS., Manuscript Corrections of Second Folio, edited by Collier.
D., Dyce (2d ed.).
Fol., following.
Fr., French.
H., Hudson (1st ed.).
H.’s quarto, Heyes’s quarto edition of the Play.
Id. (idem), the same.
K., Knight (2d ed.).
N. F., Norman-French.
Prol., Prologue.
R.'s quarto, Roberts's quarto edition of the Play.
S., Shakespeare. -
Schmidt, A. Schmidt's Shakespeare-Lexicon (Berlin, 1874).
Sr., Singer.
St., Staunton.
Theo., Theobald.
V., Verplanck.
War. ed., the Variorum edition of Shakespeare (1821).
W., R. Grant White.
Warb., Warburton.
Wh., Webster’s Dictionary (revised quarto edition of 1879).
Worc., Worcester's Dictionary (quarto edition).
Wr., Clark and Wright’s “Clarendon Press” ed. of M. of V. (Oxford, 1868).
The abbreviations of the names of Shakespeare’s Plays will be readily understood; as
T. M. for Twelfth Night, Cor. for Coriolanus, 3 Hen. VI. for The Third Part of King
Henry the Sixth, etc. P. P. refers to The Passionate Pilgrim ; V. and A. to Venezes
and Adonis; L. C. to Lozier's Complaint ; and Somn. to the Sonnets.
When the abbreviation of the name of a play is followed by a reference to Zage,
Rolfe’s edition of the play is meant. The numbers of the lines in the references (ex.
cept for the present play) are those of the “Globe” ed.
A N A RGOSY.
ACT I.
SCENE I.—In the 1st folio, the play is divided into acts, but not into
scenes, and there is no list of dramatis persona. -
1. In sooth. In truth. A. S. sath (truth, true, truly), as in forsooth,
soothsayer (teller of hidden truth). Gower alludes to the origin of the
latter word (Conſ. Am. i.):
“That for he wiste he saide sofſ.
A soth-saier he was for ever.”
3. Came by it. A familiar colloquial idiom in this country, but appar-
ently not in England, since the editors there take the trouble to explain it.
8. On the ocean. Ocean is here a trisyllable; as in 2 A/en. ZV. iii. 1.
50. See Gr. 479; and cf. Milton, Hymn on AVatiz. 66: “Whispering
new joys to the mild ocean.” Cf. also opinion in IO2 below.
9. Argosies. Merchant vessels (sometimes war vessels) of great size
for that day, though not exceeding two hundred tons. The name is from
the classical Argo, through the low Latin argis. Cf. 7. of S. ii. I. 376, etc.
11. Pageants. The word in S. means usually a theatrical exhibition,
literal or figurative. Cf. M. A. Z. p. 163. See also the verb in Z. and
C. i. 3. 151 : “he pageants us.”
12. Do over?eer. This use of the auxiliary was common in Shake.
speare's time, though obsolescent. Cf. 3 Aen. V/. v. 2. 14: “Whose top-
branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree.” See also Ham. iv. 5.99, etc.

I 28 - AVO ZTAE.S.
13. Curtsy. The same word as courtesy ; used of both sexes. The quar-
tos have “cursie.” Cf. Much Ado, p. 159.
15. Venture. Still used in this commercial sense. Forth =abroad.
17. Still. Ever, constantly; as in 136 below. Cf. “still-waking sleep,”
R. and 3. i. 1. 187; “still-vexed Bermoothes,” Zemp. i. 2. 229; “still-
closing waters,” Zemp. iii. 3. 64, etc. It is even used as an adjective in
the sense of constant, as in A'ich. Z//. iv. 4. 229: “still use of grief,”
etC. *
24. Might do at ſea. R.'s quarto has “at sea, might do.”
27. My wealthy Andrew. My richly freighted ship. Some suppose
the name to be taken from that of the famous Genoese admiral, Andrea
Doria, who died 1560. For docé'd the early eds. have “docks;” cor-
rected by Rowe.
28. Vailing. Lowering. Cf. “Vail your regard” (=let fall your look),
M. for M. v. 1, 20, etc. The word is contracted from azai/ or azale, the
French aza/er (from Latin ad zal/ema). Spenser uses aza/e, both with an
object (Shep. Aal. Jan. 73) and without one (F. Q. ii. 9. Io).
35. But even now wortſ, this. The force of this (=all this, so much)
was probably meant to be expressed by a gesture.
38. Bechanc'd. On the prefix be- see Gr. 438.
40. To think upon. From thinking upon. Gr. 356.
42. Aottom. This word, like zenſure, is still used in commerce in the
same sense as here. Cf. A. Johze, ii. I. 73 : “the English bottoms;” 7.
AV. v. I. 60 : “the most noble bottom of our fleet,” etc.
50. Zwo-/headed jazzus. The allusion is probably to those ancient
bifrontine images in which a grave face was associated with a laughing
OI) e.
52. Peep through their eyes. That is, eyes half shut with laughter.
54. Other of such zºnegar aspect. Other is often plural in S. and other
writers of the time. Cf. Job, xxiv. 24, Zºe, xxiii. 32, /º/i/. ii. 3, iv. 3. Gr.
12. Aspect is always accented on the last syllable in S. Cf. Spenser,
A. Q. i. 12. 23 : “Most ugly shapes, and horrible aspects;” Milton, P. Z.
iii. 266: “His words here ended, but his meek aspect,” etc. This is but
one illustration out of many that show the tendency of the accent in Eng-
lish to fall back toward the beginning of the word. Thus we have char-
dicter'd in S. (T. G. of V. ii. 7.4, etc.) and Milton (Comus, 530); contrary
in S. (Aſam. iii. 2: 221, etc.) and Spenser (A. Q. iii. I.47, iii. 2.40, etc.); rez-
&nue in S. (Aſam. iii. 2. 63, etc.); sočámzzized in S. (L. L. Z. ii. I. 42) and
Spenser (F. Q. v. 2. 3); etc.
56. AWestor. The oldest of the Greek heroes in the Iliad, famed for his
wisdom and gravity. See 7, and C. i. 3. 32, etc.
61. AErezented. In its primitive sense of anticipated. Cf. Ham. ii. 2.
305, etc.; also Ps. cxix. 147, and I 7%ess. iv. I5.
67. Æcceeding strazzge. S., like other writers of his time, often uses
exceeding as an adverb. He uses exceedingly only five times—in four of
which it modifies the adverb well (“exceedingly well met,” A. Z. L. iii.
1. 144, etc), while in the fifth (Aſam. v. 2. Io9) it modifies an adjective
understood. Cf. Gen. xv. 1, 2 Sam. viii. 8, etc. AExceeding strange = our
expression, “very much of a stranger.”
A C 7" ſ. SCAEAVZ Z. I 29
74. Respect upon the world. Regard for the world. “There is an allu-
sion to the literal meaning of respect: “You look too much upon the
world’” (Gr. 191).
78. A stage. Cf. the famous passage, “All the world's a stage,” A. V.
Z. ii. 7. I39 fol. -
79. Zet me play the fool. Let the part assigned to me be that of the
fool; who was always one of the characters in the old comedies. Cf.
2 Aſen. A V. ii. 2. 154: “thus we play the fools with the time;” and Zear,
iv. 1. 4o: “Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow.”
81. Aliver. Cf. A. and C. ii. I. 23: “I had rather heat my liver with
drinking.”
82. Zhan my heart cool, etc. There may be an allusion here to the old
belief that every sigh or groan robbed the heart of a drop of blood. Cf.
M. A. D. iii. 2.97: “Sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear.” See
our ed. p. 163. º
84. Alabaster. All the early eds. have “alablaster,” as in all other
instances of the word in S. Cf. Spenser, A. Q. iii. 2.42 : “Her alablaster
breast,” etc.
85. Creep into the jaundice. In the only other passage in which S.
mentions the jaundice, the cause of the disease is, as here, a mental one.
See T. and C. i. 3. 2.
89. Do cream and mantle. Cf. Lear, iii. 4. 139 : “the green mantle
of the standing pool.” R.'s quarto has “dreame” for cream.
90. And do a wilful stil/uess entertain. And who do maintain an ob-
stinate silence. This kind of ellipsis is not uncommon in writers of the
time. Cf. Bacon (Adv. of Z.) : “His eye and tooth they lent to Perseus;
and so ... (he) hastens towards Medusa ;” and Spenser (F. Q. i. I. 19):
“His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine,
And knitting all his force [he] got one hand free.”
91. With ſurpose to he dress'd. Cf. “with purpose presently to leave,”
etc., A. Jo/n, v. 7.86; “with purpose to relieve,” I A/en. PZ, i. 1. 133, etc.
Opinion of wisdom. Reputation for wisdom.
92. Conceit. Intellect. Cf. A. Y. Z. p. 194, note on 50.
93. As who should say. Like one who should say. Cf. 7. of S. iv. 3. 13:
“As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,
'T' were deadly sickness, or else present death.”
The early folios read: “I am sir an Oracle.”
96. That therefore only are reputed wise, etc. That are reputed wise
only on this account, that they say nothing. For similar tranposition
of a clause with therefore, see /sa. v. 13 and John, viii. 47. Pope calls
silence “Thou varnisher of fools, and cheat of all the wise.”
97. When, Zama zery fuze, etc. Rowe changes when to “who,” and Coll.
reads “’t would'' for would ; but it is probable that we have here an
ellipsis of the nominative, as in 90 above. Cf. Gr. 399. Would almost
a'aman, etc., means that the hearers could hardly help calling them fools,
and thus exposing themselves to the judgment threatened in Scripture
(Matt v. 22).
Io2. Arooſ-gudgeon. Old Izaak Walton says of the gudgeon : “It is an
I
I 30 MOTES.
excellent fish to enter (initiate) a young angier, being easy to be taken.”
On the adjective use of fool, cf. “fool multitude,” ii. 9. 25 below.
Io8. J/oe. More. See A. Y. Z. p. 176.
I IO. A or this gear. For this purpose, or matter; an expression some,
times used, as here, without very definite meaning.
II6. Yout s/ha/l seek all day. Shall and should are often used in all
three persons, by the Elizabethan writers, to denote mere futurity. See
Gr. 3 15, 322 fol.
124. By something showing. This adverbial use of something (=some.
what), which occurs twice in this speech, is common in S. Gr. 68.
A/ore swelling fort. Grander state. Cf. “greatest port,” iii. 2. 283
below, and “keep house, and port, and servants,” 7, o/ S. i. 1. 208.
I25. Would grant continuance. That is, continuance of. Such ellipsis
is common in the Elizabethan writers. Cf. ii. 6.9 and iv. 1. 38o below ;
and see Gr. 394 (cf. 202).
126. Alſake moan to be abridg’d. “Complain that I am curtailed.” Cf.
“made moan to me,” iii. 3. 23 below.
130. Gºgºd. Engaged, bound. Cf. 7. and C. V. I. 46: “gaging me to
keep An oath,” etc.
136. S/i//. See on 17 above. &
37. W// in the eye of honour. Within the range of what can be viewed
(or regarded) as honourable.
39. Occasions. Needs; here a quadrisyllable. See on 8 above.
141. A/ight. A technical term to denote the range of an arrow. Wr.
quotes Ascham’s Zoroft///us : “You must have divers shafts of one
flight, feathered with divers wings, for divers winds.”
142. A/ore adºlised. More careful. See A'icſ. A/. i. 3. 188: “advised
purpose,” that is, deliberate pun pose. Cf. the modern use of unadvised.
143. Zo find the other forth. To find the other out. Cf. “to find his
fellow forth,” C. of E. i. 2. 37; and “inquire you forth,” 7. G. of P. ii. 4. 86.
144. Childhood proof. Experiment of my childhood.
146. Ziće a zwiſful youth. Elliptical for “like what will happen with a
wilful (that is, wilful in his prodigality) youth.” For wilful Warb. reads
“withess,” and the Coll. MS. “wasteful.”
148. Z'haſ self way. That same way. Cf. “this self place,” 3 Hen.
V/. iii. 1. I 1 ; “that self mould, A'ich. Z/. i. 2. 23, etc. This use of self is
found before Chaucer (“self lond,” A'obſ. of G/ouc., A.D. 1298); and even
so late a writer as Dryden has “at that self moment.”
154. Circumstance. Circumlocution ; as in Haml. i. 5. 127, C. of E. v.
I. 28, Oſh. i. I. I.3, etc. {} &
156. In making question, etc. “In doubting my readiness to do my
utmost in your service ’’ (Wr.).
160. Prest. Ready ; the old French £7'est (now Żré!), Italian and Span-
isin presto, from Latin adv. pracsſo, through the late Latin pracs/us. Cf.
Aer. iv. prol. 45.
161. Aich/y left. Cf. “those rich-left heirs,” Cymrh. iv. 2. 226.
163. Sometimes. In time past, formerly. Sometimes and sometime are
used interchangeably by S. in this and their other senses. See Gr. 6&.
Cf. also Col. i. 21, iii. 7 with Eph. ii. 13.
A C Z' M. SCAAWAE //. I31
165. Mothing undervalued. Nowise inferior. Cf. ii. 7. 53 below.
166. Arutus' Aortia. See Julius Cæsar, in which this “woman well
reputed, Cato's daughter,” is a prominent character.
170. Zięe a golden ſleece, etc. The Argonautic expedition is alluded
to again, iii. 2.243 below : “We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece.”
175. A haze a mind presages. That is, which presages. This omission
of the relative was very common in S.'s time. Cf. M. for M. ii. 2. 34:
“I have a brother is condemned to die;” W. T. v. 1. 23: “You are one
of those Would have him wed again.” In modern usage, the objective
is sometimes omitted, but the nominative very rarely. Gr. 244.
7%rift. Success. Cf. “well-won thrift” and “thrift is blessing,” i. 3.
44, 8o below.
178. Commodity. Property. In ii. 3. 27 below the word is used in
the obsolete sense of advantage or gain. Cf. W. T. iii. 2. 94: “To me
can life be no commodity;” Zear, iv. I. 23: “our mere defects Prove
our commodities,” etc.
183. Presently. Immediately. Cf. Zemſ. iv. 1.42: “Ariel. Presently P
Prospero. Ay, with a twink;” and again, v. I. IoI : “Prospero. And pres-
ently, I prithee. Ariel. I drink the air before me, and return Or ere your
pulse beat twice;” Z. G. of P. ii. 7.89 : “Come, answer not, but to it
presently ſ” See also I Samu.. ii. 16, and Matt. xxvi. 53.
185. Zo haze it of my trust, etc. Of obtaining it either on my credit as
a merchant, or as a personal favour.
Note the rhyme in the last couplet, as often at the close of a scene.
SCENE II.-I. A weary. Cf. M. M. Z). v. 1. 255, Macb. v. 5. 49, etc.
6. /t is no meean ha/piness. So in the quartos. The folios have “no
small happiness.” The repetition is in Shakespeare's manner.
18. But this reasoning is not in the fashion. The 1st folio has, “But this
reason is not in fashion ;” and below, “It is not hard ” for “Is it not hard.”
23. A/or refuse none. Fol the double negative, cf. A. Joh//, v. 7, 112:
“This England never did, nor never shall,” etc. Gr. 406.
28. But one who you shall rightly love. Who is the object, not the sub-
ject, of love, as appears from the question which follows: What affection
ave you for any of the suitors that are already come 2 Who for whom
is not unusual in the writers of the time. Cf. ii. 6. 30 below. Gr. 274.
30. Are already come. On are come (= have come), see Gr. 295.
33. Zezel at. Aim at, guess. Cf. 2 Aſen. J P. iii. 2. 286: “the foeman
may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife.” The noun is
used in the same way, as in Aſen. V//Z. i. 2. 2 : “I stood i' the level Of a
full-charg’d confederacy.”
36. Maćes it a great appropriation, etc. That is, takes great credit to
himself for it. S. nowhere else uses either appropriation or appropriate.
38. Zhen is there the Countv Palatine. The folio has it, “Than is there
the Countie Palentine.” Zhan and them are different forms of the same
word, used interchangeably by old writers. Cf. A. of Z. 1440. For county
=count, see R. and 7 (where it occurs eleven times), A. W. iii. 7. 22, etc.
40. An you will not. The folio has “And you.” And or an for if is
very common in old writers, as well as and for cut iſ. See Gr. 105.
I32 - AVO 7ES,
41. The weeping philosopher. Heracleitus, of Ephesus, who, from his
melancholy disposition, is represented in various old traditions as the
contrast to Democritus (“the laughing philosopher”), weeping over the
frailties and follies at which the latter laughed.
43. Z had rather to be wearried. Aſad ra/her and had better are good En-
glish, though many writers of grammars tell us that we should say wort/d
rather, etc., instead. Cf. A. Y. /.. p. 158. In A'ich. Z/. iii. 3, 192, we find
the impersonal form, “me rather had.” See Gr. 230. A'at/er is the com-
parative of rath (see Milton, Lycidas: “the rath primrose ’’), and is often
found in the old writers in the sense of earlier, Wooſter. Thus Spenser,
Shep, A'al. Feb., speaks of “the rather lambes.” The to is omitted by the
quartos and many modern editors, but it is found in the folio. Cf. O//.
i. 3. 19.1 : “I had rather to adopt a child,” etc. For to with the infini-
tive, and examples of its use by S. where it would now be omitted, and
its omission where it would now be used, see Gr. 349 fol.
46. How say you Öy, etc. Aſ here, as not unfrequently = aſhonet or con-
cerning. Cf. ii. 9. 25: “may be meant by the fool multitude.” So Latimer
(Serm.) : “How think you by the ceremonies,” etc. So in I Cor. iv. 4, “I
know nothing by myself,” that is, am conscious of nothing (of guilt) con-
cerning (or against) myself. Gr. 145. For “Monsieur le Bon '' the early
eds. have “Mounsier Ze /30/c//e.”
52, 7%rosſ/e. Pope's emendation for the “trassell’ of the quartos and
Ist folio. The other folios have “tarssell ?” or “tassell.”
A-ca/ering. See Gr. 24.
2. A proper man's picture. A profer man is a man “as he should be "
(Craik); often, a handrome man. S. uses froßerer (A’. and Ş. ii. 4, 217)
and proferest (A/uck Atto, v. I. I 74) in the same sense. Amproper (=
unbecoming) he uses but once (Zean, v. 3. 221).
64. Suited. Dressed. Cf. “richly suited,” A. W. i. I. 170, and Milton's
“civil-suited morn” (// Pens.).
ZXoublet. “The doublet (so called from being originally lined or wad-
ded for defence) was a close-fitting coat, with skirts reaching a little be-
low the girdle.” The “round /lose ’’ were coverings for the legs, not the
feet—“trowsers or breeches, reaching to the knee.” The phrase “doub-
let and hose,” as equivalent to “coat and breeches,” occurs often in S.
See Al/. W. iii. 3. 35, Much Ado, v. I. 203, A. Y. Z. iii. 2. 206, 232, etc.
“Arench hose ’’ are referred to in Alſacó. ii. 3, 16 and Æen. P. iii. 7. 56.
Bonnet, originally the name of a stuff, came to be applied to the man's
cap made of it, as it still is in Scottish.
67. The Scottish lord. The Scottish of the quartos, printed before the
accession of James I., was changed to other in the folio of 1623, to avoid
giving offence to that monarch, Warb. sees in this passage an allusion
to the “constant promises of assistance that the French gave the Scots
in their quarrels with the English.”
71. Sealed under for another. Became surety for another box on the ear.
74. Viſe/y. P'i/d/y or z/j/dely in the early eds., as almost always.
80. You should refuse. For the should, see Gr. 322.
90. Some other sort. Some other way; or perhaps sor/ may be =lot, as
W. suggests. Cf. “draw the sort,” 7. and C. i. 3. 376. Zmposition = con-
4C 7' W. SCAEAVAE ///. I 33
dition imposed. In iii. 4. 33 the word is used again in this literal sense
of something “laid upon ’’ one as a burden or duty.
92. Sibylla. Here used as a proper name, like “Sibyl" in 7 of S. i.
2.70. So Bacon, in Colours of Good and Ævil, Io, speaks of “Sybilla, when
she brought her three books,” and in Adv. of Z. ii. 23. 33, of “Sybi//aes
books.” But in Oth. iii. 4. 70 we have “A sibyl,” and in I Hen. V/.
i. 2.56, “nine sibyls.” The reference here is to the Cumaean sibyl, who
obtained from Apollo a promise that her years should be as many as the
grains of sand she was holding in her hand. The story is told by Ovid,
A/et. xv. -
94. This farcel of wooers. Cf. “This youthful parcel of noble bach-
elors,” A. W. ii. 3. 58.
96. A wish them a fair departure. The quartos read, “I pray God
grant them,” etc. It has been supposed that the latter was the original
reading, and that it was changed in the folio on account of the act of
Parliament, in the time of James I., against the use of the name of God
on the stage. But the folio has the word God in more than a dozen
places in the play, and Portia herself (though W. thinks it would not
“suit her lips” in this case) has used it twice already in this very scene.
In i. 2, Launcelot uses it often and profanely.
Io5. Thy praise. The quartos (followed by some modern eds.) add
“How now ! what news P’’
Ioé. Seek for you. The folios omit for.
1 Io. Wit/, so good heart as, etc. We now seldom use so . . . as, prefer-
ring as . . . as, except where so requires special emphasis. Gr. 275.
I 12. Condition. Nature, disposition. Cf. Oth. ii. 1. 255: “she 's full of
most blessed condition ;” and Rich. Z/Z. iv. 4. 157: “I have a touch of
your condition,” etc. Cf. also “best conditioned,” iii. 2. 295 below.
116. Whiles. The genitive singular of while (which was originally a
noun) used as an adverb. It occurs in Matt. v. 25. See Gr. 137.
SCENE III.—I. Ducats. The value of the Venetian silver ducat was
about that of the American dollar.
4. For the which. This archaism is occasionally found in S., as in the
Bible (Gezz. i. 29, etc.). The zwho is never found ; perhaps, as Abbott
suggests, because whic/ is considered an adjective and indefinite, while
who is not. So in French we have ſequel, but not le qui. See Gr. 270.
6. May you stead me 2 Can you assist me 2 May originally expressed
ability, as the noun might still does. Can, on the other hand, signified
“to know or have skill.” We have both words in their old sense in
Chaucer's line (C. 7. 2314), “Now helpe me, lady, sith ye may and can.”
This archaic can is found in Aſami. iv. 7.85: “they can well on horse-
back,” that is, are well skilled in riding. On stead, cf. M. for M. i.
17: “Can you so stead me As bring me to the sight of Isabella?” and
A. W. v. 3.87: “to reave her Of what should stead her most.”
Pleasure me. So in M. W. i. 1. 25.1 : “What I do is to pleasure you,
coz.” See also Much Ado, v. I. 129 and 3 Aſen. PA. iii. 2. 22. Cf. Gr. 290.
11. A good man. That is, “good” in the commercial sense—“having
pecuniary ability; of unimpaired credit” (Wb.).
I34 AVO 7'E.S.
13. Ho, mo, etc. The reading of all the early eds.
15. In supposition. Doubtful, risked at sea.
16. Tripolis. The old name of 7%-ipoli, a seaport of Syria, formerly
of great commercial importance.
17. Æialto. The chief of the islands on which Venice is built was called
Zsola di Rialto (rivo alto), the Island of the Deep Stream. The name
Áialto came also to be applied to the Exchange, which was on that island.
It is the Exchange which is here meant—“a most stately building . . .
where the Venetian gentlemen and the merchants doe meete twice a day,
betwixt eleven and twelve of the clocke in the morning, and betwixt five
and sixe of the clocke in the afternoon " (Coryat's Cruiſities, 1611). The
bridge known as the A'ialto (Ponte di Rialto) was begun in 1588 and fin-
ished in 1591.
18. Squandered. Scattered. So in Howell’s Zeſters, 1650, we have
“islands that lie squandered in the vast ocean.” Even Dryden (Azizlus
Mirab.) has “They drive, they squander the huge Belgian fleet.” S.
uses the word only here and in A. Y. Z. ii. 7. 57 : “squandering glances.”
19. Zhere be ſand-rats. In old English, besides the present tense am,
etc., there was also this form be, from the Anglo-Saxon beon. The 2d
pers. sing. was beest. The 1st and 3d pers. plu. be is often found in S.
and the Bible. Cf. Gr. 300.
27. If it please you. This impersonal form (cf. the French s'il vous
p/ait), after being contracted into if you please, has come to be considered
as personal, and we now say if Z please, if he pleases, etc. The verb thus
gets a new meaning, to please becoming = to be pleased.
30. And so following. And so forth. S. uses the phrase nowhere else.
36. For he is a Christian. We should now say, for being a Christian.
When thus used, ſor is often followed by that, as in the next line. Of
course we could now say, “I hate him, for he is a Christian,” but the
meaning would be different. In this case, as in the other, the for is
equivalent to because, but it connects more loosely, as the comma indi-
cates. The difference in meaning is perhaps better illustrated by a case
like the following (// for A/. ii. 1. 27) :
“You may not so extenuate his offence
For I have had such faults;”
that is, the fact that I have been guilty is no excuse for him. The mod-
ern reading would make nonsense of it.
39. Usance. Interest. Thomas, in his Historye of /talye, 1561, says:
“It is almoste incredyble what gaine the Venetians receiue by the vsury
of the Jewes, both pryuately and in common. For in euerye citee the
Jewes kepe Open shops of vsurie, taking gaiges of ordinarie for xv. in the
hundred by the yere: and if at the yeres ende, the gaige be not redemed,
it is forfeite, or at the least dooen away to a great disaduantage: by rea:
son whereof the Jewes are out of measure wealthie in those parties.”
40. Opon the hip. To “ catch upon the hip ’’ was a phrase used by
wrestlers. Some make it refer to hunting, “because, when the animal
pursued is seized upon the hip, it is finally disabled from flight.” Cf.
iv. I. 330 below, and Oth. ii. I. 3 I4.
45, l'hich he calls interest. Usance, usury, and interest were equivalent
**
A CT / SCEAVE ///. I 35
terms in S.’s day. It was disreputable to take interest at all. It was
considered “against nature for money to beget money.” See Bacon's
Essay on Usurie.
47. Debating of my present store. Of is often used by the Elizabethan
writers in the sense of about or concerning. Cf. Zemp. ii. 1.81 : “You
make me study of that,” etc. See Gr. 174.
53. Kest you fair. “Heaven grant you fair fortune 1” Cf. “Rest you
merry !” (R. and 7. i. 2.65) “God rest you merry ſ” (A. Y. Z. v. 1. 165), etc.
56. Axcess. More than the sum lent or borrowed; interest. -*
57. Æipe wants. Wants that admit of no delay, like ripe fruit that
must be gathered at once.
58. Possess'd. Informed. Cf. iv. 1.35 below : “I have possessed your
grace of what I purpose;” Cor. ii. I. I.45: “Is the senate possessed of
this?” etc. -
59. Aſow much you would. The folio misprints “he would.” Would
is often used absolutely, as here, for zwish or require.
63. Methought. This thought is from the A. S. verb thincan, to seem,
and not from thencan, to think. It is used impersonally, the me being a
dative. Methought =it seemed to me. In Chaucer we find him thoughte,
Aem (them) thoughte, hir (her) thoughte, etc.
65. When Jacob, etc. See Gen. xxvii. and xxx.
72. Were compromis'd. Had mutually agreed.
73. Eamlings. Lambs just brought forth ; from A. S. eanian, to bring
forth. Peartling is another form of the same word, and was substituted
by Pope here. .
Pied. Spotted. We have “daisies pied ” in L. L. L. v. 2. 904 (and in
Milton's Z'Allegro); and in Zemp. iii. 2. 71 Caliban calls Trinculo a
“pied ninny,” from the parti-coloured coat whicl, he wore as a jester.
75. Pill'd me. Peeled. Cf. the Bible narrative (Gen. xxx. 37, 38).
The me is expletive, as often. See the dialogue between Petruchio and
Grumio in Z. of S. i. 2.8 fol. Gr. 220.
78. Fall. Let fall, bring forth. Gr. 291.
84. Was this inserted, etc. Was this inserted in Scripture to justify
usury P
88. The devil can cite Scripture. See Maſt. iv. 4, 6.
89. Producing holy witness. Adducing sacred authority.
95. Beholding. Often used by S., Bacon, and other writers of the time,
instead of beholden, which, as Craik has shown, is probably a corrupted
form of gehealaenz, the perfect participle of A. S. healdan, to hold, whence
its meaning of held, bound, obliged.
96. Many a time and oft. An old phrase, still familiar, = many and
many a time, that is, many times, and yet again many more times.
IoI. Misbeliezer. Strictly, one who believes wrongly, as unbeliever is
one who does not believe, or an infidel. S. uses the word only here.
102. Spet. An obsolete spelling of spit, used occasionally by S., as it
is by Milton in the one instance (Comus, 132) in which he employs the
word.
Guðerdine. A long coarse frock. See Temp. ii. 2.40, 115. The garment
and the name are still used by the peasantry in some parts of England.
136 AVO 7'E.S.
io5. Go to. A phrase of exhortation or encouragement, sometimes used
scornfully. Cf. Temp. v. 1. 297, M. W. i. 4, 165, etc.; also Gen. xi. 4, etc.
124. A breed of barren metal. The quartos have “a breed for.” Breed
is money bred from the principal. Shylock had used the same metaphor
for interest.
126. Who if he break. The “relative with a supplementary pronoun”
(Gr. 248, 249) often occurs in the writers of the time. Cf. W. and A. 935:
“Who, when he liv'd, his breath and beauty set
Gloss on the rose, smell on the violet.”
“If he break,” that is, “break his day,” a current expression = fail to
fulfil his engagement. Shylock uses the phrase below.
128. A would be friends with you. A “grammatical impropriety,” but
even now a familiar idiom.
130. Doit. A small Dutch coin, worth about a quarter of a cent. Cf.
7. of A. i. 1. 217 : “Which will not cost a man a doit;” and Cor. v. 4. 60 :
“I’d not have given a doit.”
135. Your single bond. Your individual bond, without sureties.
In a merry sport. In the old ballad of Germutus, the Jew says:
“But we will haue a merry iest,
for to be talked long :
You shall make me a Band (quoth he)
that shall be large and strong.
And this shall be the forfeyture,
of your own Flesh a pound:
If you agree, make you the Band,
and here is a hundred Crownes.”
138. Zet ſhe ſorfeit, etc. Let the forfeit named as an equivalent be a
pound of your flesh.
141. Pleaseth me. That is, “it pleaseth me.” (the folio reading). See
on 27 above. In C. of E. iv. i. 12 we have, “Pleaseth you walk with
me,” etc.; and in 3 Aſen. V/. ii. 6. IO4, “Warwick . . . shall do and undo,
as him pleaseth best.”
145. Dwell. Continue, remain.
151. Dealings teaches them suspect. There were three forms of the plural
in early English—the Northern in es, the Middle in em, the Southern in eth.
The first two are found in Elizabethan authors. Sometimes they are
used for the sake of the rhyme; sometimes for reasons that are not evi-
dent. Teaches, according to Abbott (Gr. 333), is one of these old plurals.
On the omission of the to of the infinitive, see Gr. 349.
153. Break his day. See on 127 above, and cf. Heywood's Fair Maid
of the Exchange, ii. 2:
“If you do break your day, assure yourself
That I will take the forfeit of your bond.”
157. Muttons, beefs. These Norman-French words are here used in
their original sense. The plural heeves is still used for the living animals,
and the singular form &eeze is occasionally met with. WB. Quotes an
instance from Irving.
159. Af Ae will take it, so. That is, so be it, or something of the kind.
So was often thus used as a particle of assent or affirmation. Cf. I Hen.
ZV. v. 4. I44: “If your father will do me any honour, so,” etc.
A C Z’ Z/. SCAFAWAZ Z. I 37
165. Fearful guard Of an unthrifty Anave. Fearful = to be feared or
distrusted; untrustworthy. Anave, which meant originally only a boy,
and now means only a rogue, was in current use in S.’s time with either
signification.
ACT II.
SCENE I.—The stage-direction in the first folio is: “Futer Morochus
a tawnie Moore all in white, and three or ſoure followers accordingly, with
Aortia, AVerrissa, and their traine. A/o. Cornets.”
I. Mislike. S. generally uses dislike, but misſiće in 2 Aſſen. V/. i. 1. 140
and A. and C. iii. 13. I47; also once as a noun, in 3 Aen. V/. iv. I. 24.
Complexion. A quadrisyllable. See on i. 1.8 above. Gr. 479.
6. Let us make incision, etc. Red blood was a traditionary sign of
courage. Macbeth (v. 3. 15) calls one of his frightened soldiers a “lily-
livered boy,” and Falstaff (2 Aſen. A V. iv. 3. 113) speaks of the “liver
white and pale’’ as a badge of cowardice. Below (iii. 2.86) Bassanio
talks of cowards who “ have livers white as milk.”
7. Reddest. The use of the superlative in a comparison of two objects,
though condemned by most of the modern grammars, is good old English.
8. Aspect . . . fear'd. On the accent of aspect, see on i. I. 54 above.
Fear'd=caused to fear, terrified. Cf. 3 Aſen. VI. v. 2. 2: “For Warwick
was a bug that fear'd us all.” In 7 of S. i. 2. 2 II we have both senses
of fear in close connection: “A”truc/hio. Tush tush fear boys with
bugs. Grumio. For he fears none.”
IO. Best-regarded. “Of highest rank and estimation ” (Schmidt).
12. To steal your thoughts. As a thief disguised.
14. AVice direction. Fastidious estimation. Cf. “nice and coy,” T. G.
of V. iii. 1.82, etc.
17. Scanted. Limited, restricted. Cf. iii. 2. I 12 below : “Scant this
excess;” and v. I. 141 : “Scant this breathing courtesy.”
18. Wit. In its original sense of foresight, wisdom (A. S. wit, mind),
as in the familiar expressions, “at his wit’s end,” “lost his wits,” etc.
S. uses the word also in its present sense.
20. Yourse!/. The pronouns myself, thyself, etc., were often used in
S.’s time (as they still are in poetry) as the subject of a verb. See Gr.
20. Cf. Milton, P. Z. iv. 75: “Myself am hell,” etc.
.Stood as fair. Would have stood. In fair there is an allusion to the
Moor's complexion.
25. The Sophy. The Suft, or Shah of Persia. Cf. Z. M. ii. 5. 197 and
iii. 4.307. Bacon (AEssay 43) speaks of “Ismael, the Sophy of Persia.”
26. Sultan Solyman. The most famous sultan of this name was Soly-
man the Magnificent, who reigned from 1520 to 1560.
27. O'er-stare. This is the reading of the folios and H.’s quarto. R.'s
quarto has “outstare.” -
31. Alas the while / This expression, like Woe the zwhile ! (9. C. i. 3
82), seems originally to have meant, “Alas for the present state of things I’
but it came to be used as indefinitely as the simple alas ! &
j
138 A/O 7TE.S.
32. Hercules and Lichas. Lichas was the servant who brought to Her.
cules the poisoned tunic from Dejanira, according to Ovid (Met. ix. I55).
Alay at dice Which is, etc. That is, in order to decide which is, etc.
As Abbott (Gr. 382) has said, “The Elizabethan writers objected to
scarcely any ellipsis, provided the deficiency could be easily supplied
from the context.”
35. Alcides beaten by his fage. Alcides, according to Diodorus, was
the original name of Hercules, given him on account Df his descent from
Alcaeus, the son of Perseus. The early eds. all have “rage ’’ instead of
page ; corrected by Theobald.
43. Mor will not. See on i. 2. 23 above.
44. 7%e tempſe. The church, where the oath was to be taken.
46. Alest or cursed'sſ. It is probable that blest is to be regarded as an
instance of the ellipsis of the superlative ending, not unusual at that
time. Cf. M. for M. iv. 6, 13: “The generous and gravest citizens.” So
Heywood : “Only the grave and wisest of the land;” and Ben Jonson :
“The soft and sweetest music.” In iii. 2. 288 we have “The best-condi-
tioned and unwearied spirit,” where the ellipsis is in the second adjective.
SCENE II.-The stage-direction in the early eds. is “Enter the clowne
alone.”
8. Scorne running with thy heels. The play upon words is obvious,
though it sorely troubled Steevens, who even proposed as an emenda-
tion “Scorn running ; zvit/e (i. e. hamper with a withe, or osier band)
thy heels.” Cf. Much - do, iii. 4, 51 : “I scorn that with my heels.”
9. Via / Away ! (Italian). Cf. M. W. ii. 2. I 59, Z. L. Z. v. I. I56, etc.
Here the early eds. have “fia;” corrected by Rowe.
IO. Aror the heazlews / Mason proposed to change heavens to haven,
because “it is not likely that S. would make the Devil conjure Launcelot
to do anything for Æeazen's sake,” but, of course, as Boswell has sug-
gested, the wit of the expression consists in that very incongruity.
14. We//, my conscience says, etc. The 1st folio reads thus: “wel, my
conscience saies Zance/et bouge not, bouge saies the fiend, bouge not
saies my conscience, conscience say I you counsaile well, fiend say I you
counsaile well, to be rul’d by my conscience I should stay with the ſew
my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell ;” etc.
18. God bless (or saze) the mark / The origin and the meaning of this
expression are alike obscure. It appears to be used most frequently “as
a parenthetic apology for some profane or vulgar word.”
21. Ancarnation. For incarnaſe, of course. R.'s quarto has incarnal.
29. Sand-ø/ind. IDim of sight; as if there were sand in the eye, or
perhaps floating before it. It means something more than purblind, for
Latimer (Sermons) says, “The Saintis be purre-blinde and sand-blinde.”
Aſigh-graze/-b/ind is Launcelot's own exaggeration of the word.
30. Confusions. The reading of H.’s quarto and the folios. R.'s quarto
has conclusions, which K. adopts; but, as Wr, suggests, “Launcelot
would not have given a hard word so correctly.”
34. A/arry. A corruption of Mary. It was originally a mode of swear-
ing by the Virgin, but its origin had come to be forgotten in S.'s day.
A C7' //, SCAAVE /Z. I39
7. God's sonſies. Corrupted from God’s saints, or sanctities, or sauſe
(health)—it is impossible to decide which.
46. What a' zwill. A’ for he is common in the old dramatists, in the
mouths of peasants and illiterate people.
5o. 771/4 you of young Master Zauncelot 2 The early eds. make this
imperative, and not interrogative, and are followed by K. and W.; but
ID. and the Camb. editors are probably right in regarding the sentence as
a repetition of the preceding interrogation (40). -
53. Aather. Launcelot twice calls Gobbo father, but the old man does
not even suspect with whom he is talking, since, as W. remarks, the
peasantry used to call all old people father or mother.
54. The sisters three. The Fates of classic fable.
76. Your c/ild that shall be. Here again some of the sand-blind critics
have been mystified by Launcelot’s incongruous talk. Malone says,
“Launcelot probably here indulges himself in talking nonsense,” but he
is not quite sure about it; and Steevens suggests that he “may mean
that he shall hereafter prove his claim to the title of child by his dutiful
behaviour,” etc.
82. Lord worshipſed. Perhaps, as some explain it = a lord worship-
ful, referring to the beard and the claim to the title of Al/aster. According
to stage tradition, Launcelot kneels with his back to the old man, who,
“being sand-blind,” mistakes the hair on his head for a beard (St.).
'84. A'iſ/-horse. Ai// for thiſ/, or shaft, is a familiar word in New Eng-
land, but in old England it is not known except as a provincialism in
the Midland counties. We have “i' the fills” in 7. and C. iii. 2.48.
91. Gree. The spelling of all the early eds. Cf. Wh.
92. A have set up my rest. That is, I have determined. “A metaphor
taken from play, where the highest stake the parties were disposed to
venture was called the rest.” Nares restricts the term to the old game
of primero, but Gifford (endorsed by Dyce) says that it is incorrect to do
so. The expression occurs also in A. W. ii. I. 138, C. of Æ. iv. 3. 27, A’.
and 7. iv. 5.6, etc.
97. Give me your present. See on i. 3.75 above.
99. As far as God has any ground. A characteristic speech in the
mouth of a Venetian. The lower orders in Venice regard the mainland
with an admiration which can hardly be understood by those who have
been able, all their days, to walk where they would (K.).
Io8. Gramercy. A corruption of the French grand merci, “great thanks.”
I 17. Cater-cousines. Commonly explained as + quatre-cousins, that is,
“fourth cousins,” but this is doubtful. The meaning evidently is, that
they do not seem much akin, or do not agree very well.
121. A dish of dozes. Mr. C. A. Brown infers, from this and other pas-
sages in his plays, that S. must have visited Italy. “Where,” he asks,
“did he obtain his numerous graphic touches of national manners ?
Where did he learn of an old villager's coming into the city with ‘a dish
of doves' as a present to his son's master P A present thus given, and in
our days too, and of doves, is not uncommon in Italy.” It is possible,
however, that the poet gained this knowledge of the country from other
travellers; and it is well known that Kemp, a fellow-actor, visited Italy.
&
I4O AVO 7ES,
131. Preferr'd thee. To frefer often meant to “recommend for promo.
tion,” and sometimes to “promote.” Cf. Cºm/. ii. 3. 51, iv. 2.386, 4oo, etc.
134. Zhe old proverb. It is said that there is a Scotch proverb, “The
grace of God is gear enough.”
140. Guarded. Trimmed, ornamented. The broidered edging guarded
(protected) the cloth from wear. See //en. P///. prol. 16 and Much
| Ado, i. I. 288. Cf. “guards on wanton Cupid's hose,” L. L. A. iv. 3. 58.
141. Zu. Go in ; as in C. of Æ. v. I. 37, etc.
142. We//, if any man, etc. This is Johnson's punctuation, which W. also
follows. The construction is, “Well, if any man in Italy which doth offer
to swear upon a book have a fairer table"—the expression being like “any
man that breathes,” etc. After having thus admired his table, he breaks
off to predict his good fortune. As Johnson remarks, “the act of expand-
ing his hand” reminds him of laying it on the book in taking an oath.
In chiromancy, or palmistry (fortune-telling by the lines on the palm
of the hand), the table line, or ſine offortune, is the one running from the
fore-finger below the other fingers to the side of the hand. The ſlatural
Zine is the one running through the middle of the palm. The line of Wiſe
is the one which encircles the ball of the thumb. The space between
the two first is called mezzsa, or the fable.
145. A leven. A vulgarism for elezen.
149. For this gear. See on i. I. I. Io above.
151. Of an eye. The words are found only in R.'s quarto.
153. Besſow'd. Put away, disposed of. Cf. 2 Aºngs, v. 24, Zuke, xii.
17, 18, etc. See also C. of Z. i. 2.78, J. C. i. 3. 151, etc.
163. Aſear thee. In this, as in some other expressions (“fare thee well,”
etc.), thee appears to be used for f/orſ, and not reflexively. Cf. Gr. 212.
I68. Liberal. Free, reckless ; but not in so bad a sense as in A/uch
Ado, iv. 1. 93 (“a liberal villain"), where it means licentious. Cf. “lib-
eral shepherds,” Ham. iv. 7. 171.
Take pain. We now use only the plural, “take pains.” S. uses both.
See below, v. I. I80.
170. 7% y skipping spirit. Thy frolicsome humour. Cf. Ham. iii. 4.
123: “Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle cool patience.”
Spirit, as often, is a monosyllable = s/rite. Gr. 463.
171. Misconstrued. The Ist folio has misconsterd here, but miscon-
strued in Ş. C. v. 3.84.
176. While grace is saying. See Marsh, Lect. on AEng. Zang. (First
Series), pp. 649–658. In S.'s day the construction in saying or a-saying
was going out of use, and the verbal noun in -ing was beginning to be
regularly used in a passive sense. The construction, is being said, etc.,
as Marsh remarks, “is an awkward neologism, which . . . ought to be
discountenanced as an attempt at the artificial improvement of the lan-
guage at a point where it needed no amendment.” The “ignorance of
grammarians” has been “a frequent cause of the corruption of language.”
Aſood mine eyes. Hats were worn at meals, and especially on ceremonial
occasions—a custom probably derived from the days of chivalry. Even
now, at the installation banquet of the Knights of the Garter, all the
Knights Companions wear their hats and plumes (St.).
ACT II. SCEAVES III., IV., AAWD V. I4 I
179. Studied in a sad ostent. Trained to put on a sober aspect. Below
(ii. 8.44) we have “fair ostents (manifestations, tokens) of love;” and in
Aem. V. V. chor. 21, “full trophy, signal, and ostent” (display).
188. A must to Zorenzo. This ellipsis of the verb was common, espe-
cially after will ; as “I’ll to him,” A. and 9. iii. 2. 141, etc. Gr. 405.
SCENE III.-9. In ta/4. The quarto reading; the folios omit in.
Io. AExhibit. For inhibit (restrain).
I4. What heinous sin. Possibly this is one of the instances in which
what is used for what a. Cf. J. C. i. 3.42 : “What night is this " See
other examples in Gr. 86 (cf. 256).
SCENE IV.-5. We have not spoke us yet of. We have not yet bespoken.
The reading of the 4th folio (adopted by Pope) is “as yet.”
6. Quaintly. Tastefully, gracefully. Quaint (from Latin comptus, or,
according to some, cognitus—or from both, as W b. makes it), in the old
writers, means elegant, and hence artful, ingenious. In Johnson's day it
had come to mean affected, and now it has “the united sense of antique
and odd.” Cf. “quaint lies’’ below, iii. 4.69; “fine, quaint, graceful,”
Much Ado, iii. 4. 22 ; “more quaint, more pleasing,” 7, of S. iv. 3. Io2;
“quaintly writ,” 7. G. of V. ii. 1. 128; “quaintly made,” Zd. iii. 1. 117, etc.
7. A/ot undertook. We have “underta'en º’ in W. Z. iii. 2.79, and “to
be undertook ’’ in O//l. v. 2. 3 II. S. often uses two or more forms of the
participie. Thus in J. C. we have stricken, struck, and struckeye (s/roker,
in folio, but strucken in C. of Æ. i. 2.45, etc.). So we find mistook and
mistaken, etc. We must bear in mind that the Elizabethan age was a
transitional period in the history of the language. See Gr. 343, 344.
IO. Break up. Break open; as in W. Z. iii. 2. 132. Break up was a
term in carving; and in Z. Z. Z. iv. I. 56 we have “break up this capon,”
where the “capon” is a letter. See our ed. p. 143.
13. Writ. S. uses both wrić and wrote for the past tense, and writ,
written, and wrote for the participle.
23. AErovided of. Of is often used of the agent (where we use by), and
of the instrument (for with), as here. Cf. Macó. i. 2. 13: “supplied of
kernes,” etc. Gr. 171. A small number of prepositions serve to express
an immense number of relations, and their use in different periods of the
language is very variable.
29. Aſeeds. Of necessity; a genitive used adverbially. Cf. Gr. 25.
Directed . . . What gold, etc. The ellipsis here is very like what is
called a zeugma. *
35. Dare. Either the “subjunctive used imperatively” (Gr. 364), or
the 3d pers. of the imperative. ass
37. Faithless. Unbelieving; as in Matſ, xvii. 17.
SCENE V.—2. Difference of. Cf. Lear, iv. 2. 26: “O, the difference of
man and man P’
3. What, Jessica / A customary exclamation of impatience, in calling
to persons (cf. Zeuſ. iv. I. 33, A/. W. i. 4. I, 40, etc.); like when (Zemp.
i. 2. 316, 7, C. ii. I. 5, etc.). See Gr. 73a.
I42 AVO 7"E.S.
11. Bid forth. Invited out. Cf. “find forth,” i. 1. 143 above, and “reast.
ing forth,” 36 below. S. uses bidden only in Aſuch Ado, iii. 3. 32. He
uses both bade and bid for the past tense. See on 7 above.
17. Zoward's my rest. Against my peace of mind.
18. Zo-night. That is, last night; as in J. C. iii. 3. 1 : “I dreamt to-
night that I did feast with Caesar.” Usually in S. it has its modern
meaning.
21. So do / his. Shylock plays upon Launcelot's blunder of reproach
for approach.
24 Black-Monday. Easter-Monday ; so called, as the old chronicler
Stowe tells us, because “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.”
29. The wry-neck'd fife. It is doubtful whether wrº-mecked refers to the
fife or the fifer. Boswell quotes from Barnaby Rich (1618): “A fife is a
wry-neckt musician, for he always looks away from his instrument.” On
the other hand, the old English fife (like one used in classical times) had
a bent mouth-piece. It was called the fluſe & bec, as the mouth-piece
resembled the beak of a bird. For squeaſing R.'s quarto has “squeak-
ing.”
35. Jacob's staff. See Gen. xxxii. Io and //e6. xi. 21. In Spenser, F.
Q. i. 6. 35, “Iacobs staffe' more probably refers to St. James (Jacobus),
who is usually represented with a pilgrim's hat and staff.
36. O/feasting ſorth. Of-ſor, as often. See Gr. 174; and for ſo, ſ/,
Gr. 41.
42. jewess' eye. It is “Jewes” in the quartos and 1st and 2d folios,
“Jew’s” in the later folios. Pope suggested jewess', which has been
generally adopted. W. says that jewess is not so old as the time of S.,
but Wr. states that it occurs in the Bible of 161 I (Acts, xvi. I ), and
even as early as Wiclif's version. Launcelot's phrase, as D. remarks,
is “a slight alteration, for the nonce, of the proverbial expression, Worth
a Jew’s eye.” The Jews were often threatened with the loss of an eye,
or some other mutilation, in order to extort treasure from them.
45. Patch. A name given to the professional jester (probably from his
patched or parti-coloured coat), and afterwards used as a term of con-
tempt. Some derive the word from the Italian pazzo (foolish, insane).
51. Perhaps /will reſurn. Abbott (Gr. 319), who denies that S. ever uses
will for shall, thinks this (and Perchance / will) may be “a regular idiom.”
It may be that the wil/=shall (as Wr, makes it), but it is quite as likely
that the shade of meaning is such as would now be expressed by will—
“Perhaps I may decide to return,” or something of the sort. “I s/a:/
return " would be future frere and simple ; “I wiſ! return" adds the idea
that the possible future act depends upon the speaker’s will.
7
SCENE VI.-5. Venus' figeons. The chariot of Venus was drawn by
doves. In Zemſ. iv. 1. 94 she is described as “dove-drawn,” and her
“doves" are also referred to in AZ. A. Z), i. I. 171, P', and A. I 190, etc.
7. Obliged. Pledged, plighted.
ACT A/. SCAAVE VI. I43
9. Sifs down. That is, sits down with. So in the next sentence, “pace
them (with).” This ellipsis of a preposition which has already been ex-
pressed before the relative is quite common in S. Cf. J. C. ii. 2. 33.1 :
“To whom it must be done” (to); M. for M. ii. 2. 119: “Most ignorant
of what he 's most assured '' (of); and below (iv. 1. 380) : “A gift of all
(of which) he dies possess'd.” See also on i. I. 125 above.
Io. Untread again. Retrace.
14. Younger. The reading of all the early eds. Rowe changed it to
pounker, which S. uses in I Æen. ZV. iii. 3.92 and 3 Hen. VI.ii. 1. 24.
15. Scarfed. Decked with flags and streamers. In A. W. ii. 3. 214
“scarfs’’ are associated with “bannerets” in the comparison of a person
to a “vessel.”
17. How like the prodigal dotſ, she reſurn. The reading of the quartos,
which makes the reference to the parable more direct than the folio “a
prodigal.”
18. Over-weather'd. Weather-beaten. This is the reading of both
quartos. The folios have “over-wither'd.”
30. Who love /, etc. The inflection of who is often neglected. See ex-
amples in Macb. iii. I. I23, iv. 3. 173, Cor. ii. I. 8, etc. Directly after a
preposition, whom is usually found. Cf. L. Z. L. ii. 1.2 : “Consider who
the king your father sends, To whom he sends.” But in Cymb. iv. 2.75
and Oth. i. 2. 52 we have the interrogative who even after a preposition :
“To zw/o 2° See Gr. 274.
35. Axchange. That is, of apparel.
42. Zoo-too /g/./. Halliwell has urged that “too too " used to be a
compound epithet, and should always have the hyphen ; but, as W.
remarks, it seems clear that in Some cases (as in Aſam. i. 2. 129: “this
too, too solid flesh”) it was an emphatic repetition, just as it is now. -
43. An office of discozerſ, etc. The office of a torch-bearer is to show
what is in the way, but I ought to keep in the shade.
47. C/ose. Secret, stealthy. Cf. A'ich. Z/Z. p. 183.
50. More. The quartos have “mo.”. See on i. 1. IoS above.
51 By my hood. This has been explained as swearing by the hood of
his masque-dress; but it is possible that W. is right in understanding
“my hood” here and elsewhere to be “myself,” that is, “my estate”—
manhood, knighthood, or whatever may be appropriate to the speaker.
Gentile. H.’s quarto and the Ist folio have “gentle.” There is evi-
dently a play upon the two words.
52. Beshrew me. A very mild imprecation, often used playfully and
even tenderly. Cf. Aſ. AW. D. p. 152.
54. Aſ that. This use of that as “a conjunctional affix" (Gr. 287) was
common. Thus we have “when that ” (J. C. iii. 2.96), “why that ” (Ben.
V. v. 2. 34), “while that ” (/d. v. 2.46), “though that ” (Cor. i. 1. 144).
“since that ” (Macb. iv. 3. Ioff), etc., etc. The fuller forms, “If so were
that ” (Chaucer), “If so be that,” etc., suggest that all these expressions
may be similar ellipses, as Abbott explains them.
67. Glad on '/. S. often uses on where we should use of. Cf. “jeal
ous on me,” J. C. i. 2. 71, and see Gr. 180, 181, 182. In Zemp. i. 2.
on 't = of it occurs three times. See also I Sam. xxvii. II.
I 44 º MO TES.
SCENE VII.-4. Of gold, who. In the Elizabethan age, which was not yet
established as the neuter relative. It was often applied to persons (as in
the Lord's Prayer, “Our Father w/ic/ art in heaven”) and who to things.
In the next line but one, we have “silver, which.” See Gr. 264, 265.
5. What many men desire. The folios omit many.
26. Aft/hou &e’sć 7-aſed. This beest must not be confounded with the
subjunctive be. It is the A. S. bist, 2d pers. sing. pres. indicative of begu,
to be. See on i. 3. 19 above.
29. Aſeard. S. uses aſcard and afraid interchangeably.
30. APisabling, IDisparaging. ZX/sable is used in the same sense in A.
Y. Z. iv. I. 34, v. 4. 80, and I A/en. V/. v. 3. 67.
41. Aſyrcanian. Hyrcania was an extensive tract of country southeast
of the Caspian. S. three times mentions the tigers of Hyrcania: 3 Aſen.
V/. i. 4. I55, Macb. iii. 4. IOI, and Haml. ii. 2.472. Cf. Virgil, Aºn. iv. 367.
Vasty. Waste, desolate, like the Latin vastus. S. uses zast several
times as a noun =waste. See W. Z. i. 1.33, Pez. iii. I. I, etc.
2. Zhroughfares. Zhorough and through are the same word, and S.
uses either, as suits the measure. So with throughly and thoroughly.
We find (hyroughfare again in Cyneð. i. 2. I I (see our ed., p. 168).
43. Come ziczv. See Gr. 349.
49. Like. Likely ; as very often.
5 I. Zoo gross, etc. Too coarse a material to enclose her shroud. Cere-
c/ot/l = cerement (//ame. i. 4. 48), cloth smeared with melted wax (Lat. cera)
or gums, for embalming the dead. Obscure has the accent on the first
syllable, because followed by an accented syllable. Cf. A'ic/. Z/. iii. 3.
154: A little, little grave, an obscure grave ;” //am. iv. 5. 21.3 : “His
means of death, his obscure funeral ;” etc. See also on ii. 9. 60 below.
53. Underza/ued, etc. See on i. I. 165 above. During the Middle
Ages, and down to the 16th century, the value of silver was #3 and Tºr,
and even, as here stated, ſº that of gold. In the latter part of the 17th
century it fell to as low as #3. In the 18th it rose to #4, and is now
about £3.
57. Zºsculp’d upon. Graven on the outside. The angel was worth about
ten shillings. It had on one side a figure of Michael piercing the dragon.
The use of the device is said to have originated in Pope Gregory's pun
GOLDEN ANGEL OF QUEEN ELIZABET 11.

ACT XI. SCEAVES V//Z. AAVZ) /X. I45
of Angli and Angeli. Verstegan, in his Restitution of Decayed Zutelligence,
says: “The name of Ængel is yet at this present in all the Teutonick
tongues, to wit, the high and low Dutch, &c., as much to say as Angel,
and if a Dutch-man be asked how he would in his language call an Angel-
like-man, he would answer, ein English-man, Engel being in their tongue
an Angel, and English, which they write Angelsche, Angel-like. And
such reason and consideration may have moved our former kings, upon
their best coin of pure and fine gold, to set the image of an angel.” The
figure shows the angel of Elizabeth.
63. A carrion death. That is, a skull.
65. Glisters. Glisten does not occur in S. nor in Milton. In both we
find glister several times. See W. Z. iii. 2. 171, Rich. //. iii. 3. 178, Herz.
P. ii. 2. I 17, etc.; Aycidas, 79, Comtés, 219, A. Z. iii. 550, iv. 645, 653, etc.
69. Tombs. Johnson's emendation for the “timber" of the early eds.
77. Part. Depart. See Cor. v. 6.73: “When I parted hence,” etc.
Depart was also used where we should say part; as in the Marriage
Service “till death us do part” is a corruption of “till death us depart.”
SCENE VIII.—12. A passion. Passionate outcry. Cf. 7. and C. v. 2.
181: “Your passion draws ears hither.” See also the verb in 7. G. of
V. iv. 4. I72, W. and A. IoS9, etc.
27. Reason'd. Talked, conversed; as in Rich. Z/Z. ii. 3.39, etc. K.
quotes B. and F. : “There is no end of women's reasoning.”
28. The narrow seas. The English Channel—a name not unfrequently
applied to it in that day. It occurs again iii. I. 3 below.
30. Fraught. We now use fraught (=freighted) only in a figurative
sense. Araught is used as a noun in 7. A. v. I. 64 and Oſh. iii. 3. 449.
Freight does not occur in S, or Milton. In Zemp. i. 2. 13, where many
modern editions have “freighting souls,” the folio has “fraughting.”
39. Slubber. To do carelessly or imperfectly. It also means to obscure,
or soil; as in Oth. i. 3. 227: “slubber the gloss of your new fortunes.”
40. Riping. Ripeness, maturity.
42. Mind of love. That is, loving mind. Cf. “mind of honour,” M. for
M. ii. 4. I79 (W.).
44. Ostents. Manifestations, displays. See on ii. 2. 179 above.
45. Conveniently. In its original sense, fitly, suitably. Cf. Proz. xxx.
8, Rom. i. 28, Eph. v. 4. So in the one instance in which Milton uses the
word, S.A. 1471 : “some convenient ransom.”
47. Zurning his face, etc. As Malone suggests, we have here “the
outline of a beautiful picture.”
48. Sensible. Sensitive. Cf. Z. L. Z. iv. 3. 337 : “Love's feeling is
more soft and sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails.”
52. Quicken his embraced heaviness. Enliven the melancholy he indulges.
Cf. iii. 2. Io9 below : “rash-embrac'd despair.”
53. Do we so. Ist pers. imperative ; a form not uncommon in S. Cf.
Aen. V. iv. 8. 127: “Do we all holy rites ſ” See also v. 1.36 below.
Scene IX.—18. Address'd me. Prepared myself. Cf. A. W. iii.6. Iog, etc.
Fortune mozy, etc. Success now to the hope of my heart :
K
146 AVO 7"E.S.
25. By the fool multitude. For by, see on i. 2.46; and for the adjective
fool, on i. 1. 102 above.
26. Fond. Foolish ; as usually in S. Cf. Milton, S. A. 812: “fond
and reasonless;” etc. Cf. iii. 3. 9 below.
27. The martlet. The house-martin. Cf. Macb. i. 6. 4: “the temple-
haunting martlet.” See our ed. p. 174.
28. In the zweather. Exposed to the weather. Cf. A. john, iv. 2. 109:
“Pour down thy weather,” and Cºmb. iii. 3. 64: “left me bare to weather.”
31. jump with. Agree with. Cf. A'ich. ///. iii. 1. 11 : “outward show,
which . . . seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.” Jump also means
to risk, hazard, as in Macb. i. 7. 7: “jump the life to come.” See also
Cor. iii. I. 154. jump is found as an adjective (= matched, or suitable),
as “jump names” (B. J.); also as an adverb (=just, exactly), as in Ham.
i. i. 65 : “jump at this dead hour” (see our ed. p. 172).
40. Estates. Ranks. Cf. Ham. v. I. 244: “’t was of some estate’’ (that
is, high rank). -
43. Should cover, etc. Should wear their hats, that now take them off,
as to superiors.
45. Peasantry. The folios have “pleasantry.”
47. Ruin. Refuse, rubbish.
60. To offend, etc. That is, an offender cannot be the judge of his own
case. For the accent of distinct, see on ii. 7. 51 above.
62. Fire. As often, a dissyllable. In 9. C. iii. 1. 171 we have it both
as a monosyllable and as a dissyllable: “As fire drives out fire, so pity
pity.” Hours is a dissyllable four times in as many lines in 3 Aen. VI.ii.
5.31–34, and a monosyllable four lines below. Gr. 480. Cf. iii. 2.20 below.
67. I wis. This, as Craik has shown, is a corruption of the adverbial
ywis (certainly), but S. no doubt regarded it as a pronoun and verb.
71. You are sped. Your fate is settled. Cf. “you two are sped,” 7.
of S. v. 2. 185, and “I am sped,” R. and 9. iii. 1. 94. See also Lycidas,
122: “What need they 2 They are sped.”
77. Wroth. The old eds. have “wroath.” Schmidt makes it ==ruth
(sorrow); but some take it to be another form of wrath, used in the
sense of “torturing anger.”
84. My lord. Probably used jestingly in response to the my lady. So
in I Hem. ZV. ii. 4- 317 the prince says, “How now, my lady the host-
ess?” in reply to her “My lord the Prince " In A'ich. II. v. 5.67, also,
a groom addresses the king, “Hail, royal prince ſ” and Richard replies,
“Thanks, noble peer ſ” See our ed. p. 219.
88. Sensible regreets. Tangible greetings, substantial salutations. K'e-
greet strictly means a responsive greeting. The noun occurs again in K.
john, iii. 1.241. For the verb, see Rich. Z. p. 162.
89. Commends. Cf. Rich. Z/. iii. 1; 38: “I send to her my kind com.
mends;” and /d. iii. 3. 126: “Speak to his gentle hearing kind com-
ſends.” See also Per. ii. 2.49.
90. Vet I have moſ. I have not yet. Yet-up to this time, is now used
only after a negative, but in the Elizabethan age it was often used, as
here, before a negative. Cf. 7. of S. ind. 1.96 : “For yet his honour
never heard a play;” and this from Ascham's Scholemaster: “There be
A CT ///. SCAAWAZ /. I47
that kepe them out of fier and yet was never burned ”—which would be
nonsense nowadays. Gr. 76.
91. Zićely. In the Yankee sense of promising. Cf. 2 //en. A P. iii. 2.
186: “a likely fellow !” and Zal. iii. 2. 273 : “your likeliest men.”
97. High-day wit. “Holiday terms,” as Hotspur expresses it (I Hen.
A V. i. 3.46). Cf. M. W. iii. 2. 69: “he speaks holiday.”
99. Cupid’s post. So below (v. 1.46) we have “there 's a post come
from my master.” For the adverbial mannerly, cf. Cymb. iii. 6.92, etc.
IOO. Aassanio, lord Zove. May it be Bassanio, O Cupid
ACT III.
SCENE I.—2. At lives there unchecked. The report prevails there un-
contradicted.
3. Wracked. The only spelling in the early eds. See Rich. II. p. 177.
The Goodwins. The Goodwin Sands, off the eastern coast of Kent.
According to tradition, they were once an island belonging to Earl God-
win, which was swallowed up by the sea about A.D. I IOO.
#,
* ..."'H; "... ...ſlit.!!
! 'ºffiliºt."
* * \º
!'... I dº
§ N \ ſº == . . .
\, % º, *-Sès.
ſ|iff's
%// ‘.
#2'
THE GOODWIN SANDS, DURING A STORM.
9. Anaſſed. Snapped, broke up. The word occurs in Ps. xlvi. 9
(Prayer-Book version): “He knappeth the spear in sunder.” Ginger
was a favourite condiment with old people.
24. The wings, etc. The boy's clothes she wore when she eloped.
33. Match. Bargain, compact. Cf. Cymb. iii.6.30: “’t is our match,” etc.












148 AVO TAE.S.
35. Smug. Spruce, trim. Cf. Lear, iv. 6. 202: “a smug bridegroom.”
43. Halſ a million. That is, ducats.
57. It shall go hard, etc. I will spare no effort to outdo you in what
you teach me.
63. Matched. That is, matched with them, found to match them.
74. Why, so. Well, well. Cf. A'ic/. W/. ii. 2.87, etc.
100. My turquoise. The folio reads, “my Turkies.” Marvellous prop-
erties were ascribed to this “Turkey-stone.” Its colour was said to
change with the health of the wearer. Cf. Ben Jonson, Sejanus:
“And true as Turkise in the deare lord's ring,
Looke well or ill with him.”
And Fenton (Secret II’onders of AWature, 1569) says: “The 7#trkeys doth
move when there is any perill prepared to him that weareth it.”
SCENE II.-6, Hate counsels not, etc. Hatred would prompt no such
feeling.
14. Beshrew. See on ii. 6.52 above.
15. O'erlook'd. Bewitched by the “evil eye.” Cf. M. W. v. 5.87:
“ thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.”
20. Though yours, not yours. One yours (probably the second) must
be a dissyllable. See on ii. 9.62 above.
Prove it so, etc. If it prove so (that is, that I am “not yours”), let
fortune, not me, bear the penalty.
22. Peize. The French feser, to weigh. Here it means to delay, as if
weighing each moment deliberately, or (as Steevens and others explain
the figure) as if the time were retarded by hanging weights to it. S. uses
the word in the sense of weigh in A'ich. ZZ. v. 3. IoS, and in that of poise
in K. johm, ii. 1.575. Peize is intelligible enough here, but Rowe sub-
stituted “piece,” and the Coll. MS. has “pause.”
26. Then confess. Alluding to the use of the rack to extort confession.
44. A swan-/ike end. Cf. O//. v. 2. 247: “I will play the swan, And
die in music;” and A. John, v. 7. 2 I : “this pale, faint swan, Who
chants a doleful hymn to his own death.”
54. Presence. Dignity of mien.
55. Alcides. Laomedon, king of Troy, had offended Neptune, who
threatened to inundate the country unless the monarch should sacrifice
his daughter Hesione. Accordingly, she was fastened to a rock on the
seashore to become the prey of a sea-monster. Hercules rescued her,
not for “love,” but to get possession of a pair of famous horses belong-
ing to the king. The story is told by Ovid, Met. xi.
58. Dardanian wives. Trojan wounen. Cf. Hen. V. iii. 3. 40, etc.
61. I.ive ſhou, / live. The Ist folio gives the passage thus:
“Liue thou, I liue with much more dismay
I view the sight, then thou that mak’st the fray.”
H.’s quarto and the 2d folio have “much much more dismay.”
63. Fancy. Love; as often. Cf. M. M. D. i. I. 155: “sighs and tears,
poor fancy's followers.” . So also in compounds, as “fancy-free” (M. A.
Z). ii. 1. 164), “fancy-sick” (/d. iii. 2.96), etc. The Song describes in
A CZ" ///. SCAEAVAE //, I49
exquisite imagery the birth and the death of a transient affection, “engen-
dered in the eye,” not in the heart.
74. Still. Ever. See on i. i. 17 above.
76. Season'a. This carries on the metaphor suggested by tainted.
79. Approve. Justify, prove. Cf. Macb. p. 174.
81. A/o vice so simple. So unmixed. The quartos and 1st folio have
“voice ;” corrected in 20 folio.
82. His outward parts. On his for its, see Gr. 228.
84. Stairs. The folio has “stayers,” which K. prints, explaining it as
= barriers or bulwarks.
86. Alizers white as milk. See on ii. I. 6 above.
87. Axcrement. Used, as the related word excrescence still is, for a
Superficial growth. It refers here to the beards ; as in Z. L. Z. v. 1.
Io9: “dally with my excrement, with my mustachio.” It is also ap-
plied to the hair in C. of E. ii. 2.79 and W. T. iv. 4. 734.
91. Lightest. That is, in a bad sense. Cf. below (v. I. I29), “Let me
give light, but let me not be light,” etc. See C. of Æ. p. 128 (on 52).
92. Crisped. Curled. Milton (Com. 984) speaks of “crisped shades
and bowers,” referring to the leaves waved and curled by the wind.
94 Opon supposed fairness. On the strength of their fictitious beauty.
The expression seems to us to be closely connected with the preceding
line, and not with the one before that. Wr. explains upon as = “sur-
mounting.”
95. The dowry, etc. S. has several times expressed his antipathy to
false hair. In Sonya. 68 there is a passage very similar to the one in the
text. See also Z. of A. iv. 3. 144: “Thatch your poor thin roofs With
burdens of the dead.” In L. L. Z. iv. 3. 258 Biron says:
“O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,
It mourns that painting and usurping hair
Should ravish doters with a false aspect.”
It was then comparatively a recent fashion, Stow says: “Women's peri-
wigs were first brought into England about the time of the massacre of
Paris” (1572). Barnaby Rich, in 1615, says of the periwig-sellers:
“These attire-makers within these forty years were not known by that
name. . . . But now they are not ashamed to set them forth upon their
stalls—such monstrous mop-poles of hair – so proportioned and de-
formed that but within these twenty or thirty years would have drawn
the passers-by to stand and gaze, and to wonder at them.” -
97. Guiled. Full of guile, treacherous. See Gr. 294 for many similar
participial adjectives derived from nouns, and meaning “endowed with
(the noun).” Cf. beguiled in A. of Z., 1544, etc. o
99. An Indian beauty. This has been a great stumbling-block to the
critics, who have proposed “dowdy,” “gipsy,” “favour’ (= face), “vis-
age,” “feature,” “beldam,” etc., in place of beauty. Theo, wished to
punctuate thus: “ Veiling an Indian ; beauty, in a word,” etc. As W.
remarks, “Indian is used in a derogatory sense; and the occurrence of
&eauteous and beauty in the same sentence is not at all unlike Shakespeare's
manner.”
1oz. Hard food for Midas. An allusion to the story of Midas, king of
I5o - AVO ZTE.S.
Phrygia, who gained from Bacchus the power to change whatever he
touched to gold, and found to his Sorrow that even his food was thus
transmuted. See Ovid, Meč. xi.
A zwill none of thee. See on ii. 2. 188 above.
106. Zhy plainness. The folio and both quartos have “palenesse.”
Warb. suggested the emendation, which is adopted by St., D., and W.
K., H., Sr., and the Camb. ed. follow the folio. The antithesis of //ain-
tless and eloquentce is more natural and more forcible, especially after that
of threatenesſ and promise in the preceding line. It is an objection to
fadeness that pale has just been applied to the silzer casket.
I IO. Green-eyed jealousy. Cf. “green-eyed monster,” in Ot/... iii. 3. 166.
On greeze as a complimentary epithet of eyes, see A. and 7 p. 198.
I 12. A'aize thy joy. The later quartos have reiz, which some prefer.
I 15. Corzreterſelf. Portrait. Cf. Z. of A. v. 1. 83 : “Thou draw'st a
counterfeit Best in all Athens.” So in the Wić of a Woman (1604):
“the drawing of my daughter's counterfeit.”
I2O. Zairs. Cf. Z. Z.A. iv. 3. 142 : “her hairs were gold,” etc.
126. Oreſearrets/ 'd. Unaccompanied by the other eye, or, perhaps, by
the other features.
I30. Conſtreezeſ. In its original sense of that which contains. Cf. Aſam.
iv. 4. 64: “tomb enough and continent;” and v. 2. I 15: “you shall find
in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see '' (that is, find
him containing every quality which a gentleman would desire to contem-
plate for imitation). In 2 Aſen. ZV. ii. 4. 309 (“thou globe of sinful conti-
nents”), some make it = that which is contained (contents); but see our
ed., p. 172. -
140. A come &y note, etc. “I come according to written warrant (the
scroll just read) to give a kiss and receive the lady” (Wr.).
I41. Arize. By metonymy, for the contest.
I45. Pea/s. R.'s quarto has “pearles.”
156. Zivings. Possessions, fortune. Cf. v. I. 26o: “you have given
me life and living.” So in A. azed 7. iv. 5.40 : “life, living, all is death’s.”
See also Mark, xii. 44, Altake, viii. 43, xv. 12, 3O, etc.
158. Surſe of fºothing. This is the reading of the folio, and is more in
keeping with the negative characteristics which follow than “sum of
something,” the reading of the quartos. K. and W. adopt the former ;
the-Camb. editors and H. the latter.
163. Aſappéest of a// in. The folio and both quartos have “of all is,”
which is retained by the Camb. editors; but we agree with W. that
“there can be no reasonable doubt '' that S. wrote £72.
I74. Ae way zarzęage, etc. Be a sufficient ground for my crying out against
you. “Exclaim on ” occurs also in V. and A. 930, A. of Z. 741, I Æen.
PZ, iii. 3. 60, v. 3. 134, etc.; but in Azam. ii. 2. 367, Oth. ii. 3. 314, etc., we
find “exclaim against.” -
I78. Fairly spoke. S. uses both spoke and spokere as participles. See
on ii. 4.7 above.
191. Aone from me. That is, none away from me, since you have
enough yourselves. Cf. A'ich. Z/Z. p. 233 (note on 259), or Gr. 158.
195. So tºota cazzºt get. If thou canst. See Gr. 133.
A CT ſ/Z. SCAEAVAZ /Z. I5 I
197. As swift. The Elizabethan writers use adjectives freely as ad-
verbs. Cf. 7 of S. ind. 1. 89: “Thou didst it excellent,” etc. ...Gr. I.
199. Intermission. Pause, delay. The pointing is Theobald's. The
folio reads (as do the other early eds. Substantially):
“You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission,
No more pertaines to me my Lord then you.”
Zntermission is metrically five syllables. See on i. I. 8 above.
201. Caskets. R.'s quarto has “casket.” º
208. Achiev'd her mistress. S. often uses achieve in this sense. Cf. 7.
of S. i. 1. 161 : “If I achieve not this young modest girl” (see 184 and
224 in same scene); Oth. ii. I. 61 : “achiev’d a maid;” etc.
212. Our feast shall be. Shall =zwill, as often. See on i. I. 116 above.
216. Afthat. See on ii. 6.55 above.
218. Very friends. True friends. Cf. A. and Ş. iii. I. I 15: “My very
friend.” See also Gen. xxvii. 21, John, vii. 26. Very is the Fr. 2/rai (old
Fr. veral), from Lat. Zeracus, a derivative of verus.
228. Z20//. Dost and doſh are the established forms for the auxiliary;
doest and doeth, in other cases. In old writers we find the former used
for the latter, as here. Cf. J. C. i. 1.8: “What dost thou with thy best
apparel on P”
231. AEstate. State, condition. Cf. A. Y. Z. i. 2. 17, A. W. ii. I. 122, etc.;
also Gen. xliii. 7, Aºs. cxxxvi. 23, etc. On the other hand, state is some-
times found in the sense of estate. See 254 below.
235. Success. Elsewhere S. often uses this word in its old sense of
issue, result. Cf. A. W. v. I. 62, Oth. iii. 3. I22, Cor. i. I. 264, etc.
236. Won the fleece. Cf. i. I. 17O above. -
238. Shrewd. Evil; the original sense of the word. See J. C. p. 145.
239. Steals. Changed by Pope to “steal.” See Gr. 247.
242. Constant. Steadfast, self-possessed. Cf. Zemp. i. 2. 207: “Who
was so firm, so constant,” etc. -
257. Mere. Absolute, thorough. See Zemf. p. I I I, note on 51.
262. Haze. All the early eds. read “Hath,” which might be retained.
See Gr. 334.
Aſit. Hit the mark, succeeded.
265. Scape. Not to be printed “‘scape.” See Macb. p. 214.
267. Should appear. Would appear. See Gr. 322.
268. AEischarge. Pay. Cf. C. of Æ. iv. 4. 122 : “I will discharge thee.”
271. Confound. Destroy, ruin. Cf. A. and C. iii. 2. 57 : “What wil-
lingly he did confound,” etc.
273. Impeach the freedom of the state. Denies that strangers have equal
rights in Venice (Wr.). Cf., however, iv. 1.38, where Shylock says:
“If you deny me, let the danger light
Upon your charter and your city's freedom ;”
as if the freedom depended upon a charter which might be revoked by
the power that had granted it. The thought here may be the same.
275. Magnificoes of greatest port. Grandees of highest rank,
276. Aersuaded zvit/.. Used persuasion with. It is the only instance
in which S. joins with to this verb.
277. Envious. Malicious. So enzy=malice, in iv. I. Io, 121 below.
I 52 AVO 7'/.S.
284. /Peny. Forbid. Elsewhere it means refuse ; as in ii. 2. 161, etc.
288. Aest-condition'd and unzwearied. See on ii. 1. 46 above. In like
manner, the ending -ly is sometimes omitted in the second of a pair of
adverbs. See Rich. //, i. 3. 3: “sprightfully and bold;” A'ich. MAZ. iii. 4.
50 : “cheerfully and smooth ;” Oſ/... iii. 4.79: “startingly and rash,”
etc. More rarely, it is omitted in the first word; as in B. and F., Pilgrim,
ii. 2 : “poor and basely.” For conditioned, see on i. 2. I 12 above.
296. /9escri//ion. A quadrisyllable. See on 199 above.
297. Z/air. Probably a dissyllable, as Malone and others make it;
but it is barely possible that through should be thorough, as Coll, suggests.
See on ii. 7.42 and ii. 9.62 above.
307. Cheer. In its original meaning of countenance. Cf. M. A. Z), iii.
2.96: “pale of cheer,” etc. It is the French chºre, which even up to the
16th century was used in the sense of Aead, fºrce. Nicot’s “la chère bais-
sée '' is exactly equivalent to Milton’s “drooping cheer” (P. Z. vi. 496).
In some of the provincial dialects of France the word still retains its old
meaning.
312. As ſomfeſt. Is forfeited. So below, iv. I. 356: “thy wealth being
forfeit.” See Gr. 342.
313. You and /. Cf. “who you shall rightly love,” i. 2. 28, and “not
I” for “not me,” in 21 above. See also Oth. iv. 2. 3 : “you have seen
Cassio and she together.” This disregard of the inflections of pronouns
was common in writers of the time. See Gr. 205–216.
320. A/or rest. R's quarto has “no rest,” which may be right.
SCENE III.-2. Zends. The folio reading; “lent " in the quartos.
9. AWaughty. This word was formerly used in a much stronger sense
than at present. In Much Ado, V. I. 306 the villain Borachio is called a
“naughty man ;” and Gloster, in Lear, iii. 7. 37, when the cruel Regan
plucks his beard, addresses her as “Naughty lady ſ” Cf. Proz. vi. 12,
I Sam. xvii. 28, James, i. 21. See also v. I. 9 i below.
Fond. Foolish ; as in ii. 9, 26 above. This appears to be the orig-
inal sense of the word. In Wiclif's Bible, I Cor. i. 27, we find “the
thingis that ben fonnyd of the world.”
Io. 7'o come. That is, as to come. See Gr. 281.
14. Du//-eyed. Wanting in perception (as explained by Wr.), not with
eyes dimmed with tears, as some make it.
19. Aſept. Kept company, dwelt. Cf. Z. Z. Z. iv. I. IOO, etc.
23. Made moazz. See on i. I. 126 above.
25. Grant this forfeiture to hold. Allow it to hold good.
26. Deny the course of ſaw. Interfere with it, refuse to let it take its
course. See on iii. 2.284 above.
27. Aror the commodity, etc. For if the advantages heretofore enjoyed
by strangers in Venice be refused them, it will seriously impeach the jus,
tice of the state. Capell (whom K. follows) read and pointed thus:
“The duke cannot deny the course of law
For (that is, on account of) the commodity that strangers have
With us in Venice: if it be denied,
'T will much impeach,” etc.
A C 2" ///. SCAEAVE A V. I 53
Commodify there means “traffic, commercial intercourse.” But, as W
suggests, the ordinary reading is more in Shakespeare's free style than
such a precise passage as Capell makes of it. R.'s quarto has “Ais
state.”—Thomas, in his Aſistory of /talye (1561), has a chapter on “The
libertee of straungers” in Venice, in which he says: “Al men, specially
strangers, haue so muche libertee there, that though they speake very ill
by the Venetians, so they attempt nothinge in effect against theyr astate,
no man shall control theim for it. . . . And generally of all other thynges,
so thou offende no man priuately, no man shal offende the : whyche
vndoubtedly is one principall cause, that draweth so many straungers
thither” (Wr.). See on i. 1. 178 above.
32. Bated. Reduced, lowered. Cf. “bated breath,” i. 3. 114 above. It
should not be printed 'bated (as by K., W., H., and others), since it is
not a mere metrical contraction of abated, but a distinct word (cf. Zwake
and awake, etc.) often found in prose writers. See examples in WB.
The folio has “bated" both here and in i. 3. I 14.
35. Pray God. The subject is omitted, as even now it often is in
“Would to God,” etc.
SCENE IV.-2. Conceit. Conception. See Much Ado, p. 133.
6. Send relief. For the omission of the preposition, see on i. i. 125 above.
7. Zozer. Friend. So just below, “bosom lover.” Cf. J. C. iii. 2. 13:
“Romans, countrymen, and lovers.” See also Ps. xxxviii. 11. The word,
moreover, was formerly applied to both sexes, as paramour and villain
were. Even now we say of a man and woman that they are lovers, or a
pair of lovers. -
9. Than customary bounty, etc. “Than ordinary benevolence can con-
strain you to be " (Wr.).
11. A/or shall not. See on i. 2. 23 above.
Companions. This word was sometimes used contemptuously, as ſel-
low still is. See J. C. iv. 3. 138: “Companion, hence " and cf. Zemp.
p. 131, note on Your fellow.
12. Waste. Spend. Cf. Milton (Sonnet to Mr. Zawrence): “Help
waste a sullen day;” where, however, the idea of “killing time” is more
evident than here.
14. Be needs. Just below we have the more familiar needs be. For
needs, see on ii. 4, 29 above.
21. Cruelty. R.'s quarto has “misery.”
25. Husbandry. Stewardship. Cf. 7. of A. ii. 2. 164: “If you suspect
my husbandry,” etc. • .
Manage. Cf. Temp. i. 2.70 : “The manage of my state.” The word
is especially used of horses; as in 1 Aſen. ZV. ii. 3.52 : “Speak terms of
manage to thy bounding steed.” See also Rich. ZZ. iii. 3. 179, A. Y. Z. i.
I. I.3, etc.
28. Contemplation. Metrically five syllables. Gr. 479.
30. Her husband, etc. An ellipsis like that in ii. 1.46 above. Gr. 397.
33. Deny this imposition. Refuse this charge laid upon you. See on
i. 2. 9o above. - -
49. Padua. The old eds. have Mantua. The triple mention of Padua
I54 AVO 7TES.
as the residence of Bellario in iv. 1, makes the correction here an obvious
one; besides, the University of Padua was famed for its jurists (Theo.).
50. Cousin's hand. The word cousin in that day “seems to have been
used instead of our kinsman and Ainswoman, and to have supplied the
place of both " (Malone). Cf. Aſam. p. 179.
52. With imagin'd speed. With the speed of thought. Cf. Hem. V.
iii, chor. I : “Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies.”
53. Tranect. The word occurs nowhere else. It may be a misprint
for “traject” (Rowe), the English equivalent of the French trajet, Italian
traghetto. Coryat (Crudities, 1611) says: “There are in Venice thirteen
ferries or passages, which they commonly call 7%aghetti, where passen-
gers may be transported in a gondola to what place of the city they
will.” K. thinks the travlect was the tow-boat of the ferry.
50. Conzenient. Proper, suitable. See on ii. 8.45 above.
59. Of us. That is, of our seeing them.
61. Accomplished. Furnished. Cf. A'ich. Z/. ii. I. 177 : “Accomplish’d
with the number of thy hours;” that is, when he was of thy age. See also
Aſen. V. iv. chor. 12: “The armourers accomplishing (that is, equipping)
the knights.”
63. Accoutred. R.'s quarto has “apparreld.”
65. Brazier. Finer, more showy. Both brave and brazery are often
used in this sense with reference to dress, personal appearance, etc. See
Zemp. i. 2.6, 41 I, ii. 2. 122, iii. 2. 12, etc. Cf. also Bacon, Æssay 37: “the
bravery of their liveries;” and /sa. iii. 18. The Scottish braw is the
same word.
67. Mincing. This word was not always contemptuous. In the one
instance in which Milton uses it (Comus, 964: “the mincing Dryades”)
it appears to mean tripping lightly or gracefully. Cf. also Drayton, Pol-
yolb. Song 27 : “Ye maids, the hornpipe then so mincingly that tread.”
69. Quaint. Ingenious, elaborate. See on ii. 4. 6 above.
72. / could not do withal. I could not help it. In Palgrave's Lesclair-
cissement de /a Dang. Fr., 1530, we find it thus explained : “A can mat do
withall, a thyng lyeth nat in me, or I am nat in faulte that a thyng is
done.” In Florio's Giardino di A'icreatione, 1591, “Io non saprei farci
altro" is rendered “I cannot doo with all.” Cf. also Shelton's Z)on
Quixote, 1620: “Why, if you do not vinderstand (said Sancho), I cannot
do withall.”
75. That weſt. This omission of so before that is very common. See
J. C. i. 1.5o: “That Tiber trembled;” Macb. ii. 2. 7: “That death and
nature do contend,” etc. See Gr. 283.
77. Razº, Crude, or, in Yankee parlance, “green.” Cf. A. Y. L. iii.
2.76: “Thou art raw,” etc.
jacks. A common term of contempt. See Much Ado, v. 1. 91, Rich.
Z//. i. 3. 72, A. and C. iii. 13. 93, IO3, A’. and 7. ii. 4. I60, etc.
79. All my whole. Cf. 1 Hen. VI. i. 1. 126: “All the whole army;”
Aſent. V///. i. I. 12 : “All the whole time,” etc.
Scene V.—3. I fear you. That is, fear for you ; as in 24 below. Stee.
vens quotes A'ich, Z/Z. i. 1, 137 : “his physicians fear him mightily.”
A C 7' W.W. SCAAWA. Z. I55
4. Agitation. The clown's blunder for cogitation. -
12. When / shun Scylla, etc. In the Alexandreis of Philip Gaultier,
written in the early part of the 13th century, we find the line, “Incidis in
Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim,” which had been often quoted and
translated by English writers before the time of S. The substance of the
line has been traced even farther back, to St. Augustine, who (/n Johan-
zuis A'zang.) writes: “quasi fugiens Charybdim, in Scyllam incurras . . .
a Charybdi quidem evasisti, sed in Scyllaeis scopulis naufragisti.”
17. Ænow. A form of enough, generally plural. Cf. iv. 1.29 below.
36. Cover. Launcelot quibbles on the two meanings of the word, to
lay the table and to wear one's hat (see above, ii. 9.43 : “how many then
should cover,” etc.). -
38. Quarrel/img zwith occasion. “Quibbling on every opportunity, tak-
ing every opportunity to make perverse replies” (Wr.).
46. AXiscretion. Discrimination.
Suited. Suited to each other, arranged.
49. A many. This expression is obsolete, though we still say a few,
and many a in a distributive sense. It is occasionally used in poetry, as
by Gerald Massey (Zoze's Fairy Ring):
“We’ve known a many sorrows, Sweet:
- We 've wept a many tears.” -
Wr. quotes Tennyson (Miller's Daughter): “They have not shed a
many tears.” Cf. A. P. Z. i. I. I2 I, K. John, iv. 2. I99, etc.
50. Garnish'd. Furnished, equipped.
Aror a tricksy word, etc. For a quibbling word (or a play upon words),
set the meaning at defiance. Zºricksy means sportiye in Zemp. v. 1. 226:
“My tricksy spirit º’’
51. How cheer'st thou ? Equivalent to “What cheer? How is 't with
you?” in W. Z. i. 2, 148. R.'s quarto has “How far'st thou?”
52. Good sweet. No term of compliment or endearment did more ser-
vice in that day than szºeet. This combination of good sweet occurs in
Cor. i. 3. I 19, M. W. iv. 2. 189, etc. Opinion is here a quadrisyllable.
58. Mean it, then In reason, etc. . The reading of R.'s quarto. H.’s
quarto differs from this by having “it’ instead of then, and the folio has
“meane it, it Is,” etc. Pope reads “merit it, In ;” and St. conjectures
“moan, it is In.” Mean it =intend to live azu upright life.
63. Pawn'a. Staked, wagered... Cf. Cor. iii. 1, 15, Cymb. i. 4. I 18.
76. Howsoe'er. The folio has “how som ere”—a common vulgarism
in that day.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.—5. Uncapable. S. uses both incapable (six times) and unca.
pable (twice). So we find uncertain and incertain, unconstant and incon-
stant, unfortunate and infortunate, ungrateful and ingrateful, etc. Gr. 442.
8. Obdurate. The accent is on the penult, as always in S. See Worc.
on the word. tº $ g tº * g
9. And that. Here that is omitted after since, and is then inserted in
156 AVO 7TE.S.
the second clause without since. This is a common construction in the
Elizabethan writers. See Gr. 285. In most cases the subjects of the
clauses are different. Cf. 7. and C. ii. 2. 177:
“If this law
Of nature be corrupted through affection,
And that great minds,” etc.
So in Ben Jonson's Cynthia's Revels, iii. 2: “ Though my soul be guilty
and that I think,” etc. On the use of that with iſ, since, zwhen, etc., see
on ii. 6.54 above.
Io. AEzızıy's. See on iii. 2.277 above. Cf. Mark, xv. Io.
18. Mead'st this fashion, etc. You keep up this show of malice only
until the final hour of execution.
20. Aemorse. Relenting, pity. This is its usual meaning in S. See
A. John, ii. 1. 478: “Soft petitions, pity, and remorse;” ſal. iv. 3. 50 :
“tears of soft remorse,” etc. So remorseful =compassionate, and 72-
morseless = pitiless (as at present).
21. Apparent. Here =seeming. For another sense, see A'ich. ZZ. p. 150.
22. Where. Whereas, Cf. 7. G. of V. iii. 1, 74: “Where I thought the
remnant of mine age,” etc.; Z. Z. Z. ii. I. Io9 : “Where now his knowl-
edge must prove ignorance;” Cor. i. Io. 13: “Where I thought to crush
him,” etc. On the other hand, whereas sometimes = zwhere (D.), as in
2 Aſent. V/. i. 2.58: “Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk.”
24. Moose. Release. This is the reading of the early eds. except the
4th folio, which has “lose.”
26. Moiety. Portion, share (not an exact half); as often in S. Cf
Aſam. i. I. 9o: “a moiety competent;” and see our ed. p. 174.
29. A'oyal merchant. This epithet was striking and well understood
in S.'s time, when Sir Thomas Gresham was honoured with the title of
the royal merchant, both from his wealth, and because he transacted the
mercantile business of Queen Elizabeth ; and at Venice the Giustiniani,
the Grimaldi, and others were literally “merchant princes,” and known
as such throughout Europe. For eſtow, see on iii. 5, 17 above.
34. Gent/e. A pun on Gentile is doubtless intended (Wr.).
35. Possess'd. See on i. 3. 58 above.
36. Sabbath. H.’s quarto has “Sabaoth.” “The same mistake occurs
in Bacon's Advancement of Zearning, ii. 24: “Sacred & inspired Diuin-
itie, the Sabaoth and port of all men's labours and peregrinations.’ Spen-
ser also confounds the signification of the two words (F. Q. viii. 2):
“‘But thenceforth all shall rest eternally
With him that is the God of Sabaoth hight.”
1)r. Johnson, in the first edition of his Dictionary, treated Sabbath and
Sabaoth as identical words, and Sir Walter Scott has (/vanhoe, ch. x.),
“The gains of a week, aye the space between two Sabaoths.” But the
error has been corrected in later editions” (Wr.).
39. Your charter. See on iii. 2. 273 above.
41. Carrion. A favourite term of contempt with S.
43. But, say, it is. But suppose it is. Capell first inserted the com-
mas, which are required to make the sense clear.
47. Some men there are love not. For the omitted relative, see Gr. 244.
A CZ' ZV. SCAEAVAZ Z. I57
A gaping pig. “Editors and commentators have thought it neces-
sary to discuss the point whether Shylocé means the gaping of a pig
brought to table with an apple in its mouth, or the gaping of the living,
squealing animal. He may have meant either” (W.).
49. Masters of passion. Agencies (such as he has been speaking of)
that move either the sympathy or antipathy of any man. Passion is used
in the original sense of feeling or emotion. Cf. J. C. i. 2.48: “I have
much mistook your passion,” etc. , - .
52. Abide. Bear, endure. Cf. Temp. i. 2. 360 : “which good natures
Could not abide to be with,” etc.
55. Zodg’d. Settled, abiding.
59. Current. Persistent course.
60. My answer. H.’s quarto has “my answers.”
65. 7% ink you question. Consider that you are arguing with.
67. Main flood. The “ocean tide.” Cf. “the flood,” i. 1. 10. “The main’”
generally means the sea (as in A'ich. Z//. i. 4. 20: “tumbling billows of the
main’’), but sometimes the main land. Cf. Ham. iv. 4. I5: “the main of
Poland,” and Lear, iii. I. 6: “swell the curled waters 'bove the main.”
68. You may as zwell use guestion, etc. In the copy of H.’s quarto be-
longing to the Duke of Devonshire we have :
“well use question with the Woolfe,
the Ewe bleake for the Lambe.”
while in the copy of the same edition, the property of the Earl of Elles-
mere, it is corrected to read as in the text (except that it retains “bleake”).
The change must have been made while the edition was printing. The
folio prints “Or euen as well vse question with the Wolfe,” but leaves
the second line imperfect.
70. Pines. The quartos have “of pines.” -
72. Fretted. Both quartos have “fretten;” but elsewhere S. uses fretted.
74. What 's harder £ Thus in the quartos. The folios have “what
harder P”
77. With all brief and plain conveniency. “With such brevity and
directness as befits the administration of justice ’’ (Wr.).
78. Aave judgment. Receive sentence. . Cf., A'ich. IZ. iv. 1. 123:
“Thieves are not judg’d,” etc. See also Zuke, xix. 22.
87. Parts. Capacities, employments.
95. Dearly bought. In “dear bought” (iii. 2. 308 above) we have, as
often, the adjective for the adverb.
99. Upon my power. By virtue of my prerogative.
IoI. ZXetermine. Decide. The word sometimes means to put an end to,
as in 2 A/en. IV. iv. 5.82 : “Till his friend sickness hath determin'd me ;”
sometimes, to come to an end, as in Cor. v. 3. I2O : “till these wars deter-
mine.”
117. Forfeiture. Rowe reads “forfeit.”
118. Aſot on thy sole, but on thy soul. Cf. the quibble in }. C. i. 1. I5 :
“a mender of bad soles.” For the sentiment, cf. 2. Hem. IV. iv. 5. Ioy:
“Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart.”
120 The hangman's axe. So in Fletcher's Prophetess, iii. 2, Dioclesian,
\
I58 MOTES.
who had stabbed Aper, is called “the hangman of Volusius Aper;” and in
jacke Drums Entertainment (1616), when Brabant Junior says, “let mine
owne hand Be mine owne hangman,” he refers to stabbing himself. In
the Duke of Buckingham's A‘ehearsal, Bayes speaks of “a great huge
hangman, . . . with his sword drawn" (D.). Cf. Much Ado, p. 143.
121. AEnzy. Malice. See on iii. 2.277 above.
123. Inexorable. The reading of the 3d folio; “inexecrable” in all
‘the earlier eds.
124. Aror thy liſe. For allowing thee to live.
126. A ythagoras. The philosopher of Samos, to whom was attributed
the doctrine of the transmigration of souls. Cf. 7. AV. iv. 2. 54: “C/own.
What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild-fowl 2 Malvolio.
That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird.”
I29. Who, hang'd, etc. See on i. 3. 126 above.
133. Starv'd. The folio has “stern'd.” The word is the A.S. stearſan,
Old Eng. Sterzeit (frequent in Chaucer), Ger. ster/en. It originally meant
to die, but in the latter part of the 16th century came to be used in the
narrower sense of perishing with cold—a meaning which it still has in the
North of England (See also 2 Aſent. V/. iii. I. 343, etc.)—or with hunger.
We find the form sterve in Spenser, A. Q. ii. 6. 34, ii. 7. 57, etc. (= to die),
and in Shep. Aal. Feb. 83, “starved with cold.”
I37. Cure/ess. The quarto reading; “endless” in the folios.
143. Go give. Cf. “come view,” ii. 7.43; “go sleep,” A'ich. Z/. iv. 1.
139; “go seek the king,” Ham. ii. I. IOI, etc. Gr. 349.
I53. To fill up. To fulfil.
154. Aſo impediment to let him lack. “No hindrance to his receiving”
(Wr.). For this peculiar form of “double negative” in S., see Schmidt,
p. I42O. Cf. A. Y. Z. p. 156, note on I2.
160. Came you. The quartos have “Come you.” --
162. The difference, etc. The dispute which is the subject of the pres-
ent trial. *
164. Throughly. See on ii. 7.42 above.
169. Such rule. Such due form.
171. Within his danger. Cf. V. and A. 639: “Come not within his
danger; T AW. V. I. 87: “Into the danger of this adverse town,” etc.
176. It droppeſ/, etc. As Douce suggests, S. may have had in mind
Acc/esiasticus, xxxv. 20: “Mercy is seasonable in the time of affliction,
as clouds of rain in the time of drought.”
177. Zwice blest. “Endowed with double blessing” (Wr.).
181. Shows. Represents. Cf. A'ich. ZZ. iii. 4. 42 : “showing, as in a
model, our firm estate.”
187. Show. Show itself, appear. Cf. ii. 2. 167 above.
188. Séaserts. Tempers. Malone quotes Adward ///. (1596):
“And kings approach the nearest unto God
By giving life and safety unto men.”
and Sir John Harrington's Orlando Furioso :
e “This noble virtue and divine
Doth chiefly make a man so rare and odd,
As in that one he most resembleth God.”
A C 7" Z W. SCEAVE Z. I 59
191. We do pray for mercy, etc. Sir W. Blackstone considered this
out of character as addressed to a Jew. S. probably had the Lord's
Prayer immediately in his mind, but the sentiment is also found in Ac-
clesiasticzas, xxviii. (K.).
195. Follow. Insist upon. For court the folios have “course.”
199. Discharge. Pay. See on iii. 2. 268 above.
2OI. Zwice. Some critics would change this to thrice, because we
have “thrice the sum ” just below. It is possible that twice is a mis-
print, as W. suggests, but we see no necessity for bringing the two pas-
sages into mathematical agreement. For Shakespeare's carelessness in
these little arithmetical matters, see C. of E. p. 148, note on 400.
205. Truth. Honesty. So “a true man’’ was an honest man, as op-
posed to a thief. See M. for A/. iv. 2.46: “Every true man’s apparel
fits your thief;” I Hen. A l’. ii. 2. 98: “the thieves have bound the true
men,” etc.
21 1. A recedent. The folios have “president.”
2I4. A Daniel come to judgment. The allusion is to the History of Su-
sanna, 45: “The Lord raised up the holy spirit of a young youth, whose
name was Daniel,” etc.
215. Aſow do /. The quartos have “how I do.”
239. Hath full relation, etc. Clearly recognizes that this penalty (like
any other) should be paid. -
242. More elder. Double comparatives and superlatives are common
in the Elizabethan writers. In S. we find “more larger” (A. azed C. iii.
6.76), “more better” (Zemp. i. 2. 19), “more braver” (ſal, i. 2.439), “more
rawer” (Ham. v. 2. 129), “most boldest” (7. C. iii. I. 121), “most un-
kindest” (Id. iii. 2. 187), etc. See Gr. II. In A'ic/. AZ. ii. I. 49 we find
“less happier,” the only instance with less found in S.
245. 7%e zery words. We still use very as an adjective in this sense
of exact, or precise, though not in the sense of true, as in iii. 2. 218 above.
246. Balance. W. says, “The plural form balances was rarely used in
S.'s day, if at all.” We find “ballances, or a payre of ballance: libra”
in Baret's Alvearie (1580), and Cotgrave (161 I) has “balance; a pair of
balances.” Here, however, it may be a contracted plural. See Gr. 471.
248. On your charge. At your expense.
249. Do bleed. The folios have “should bleed,” and in the next line
“It is so nominated,” and in 254 “Come merchant.”
259. Still her use. Ever her custom. See on i. i. 17 above. On itse,
cf. 9. C. ii. 2.25: “these things are beyond all use.”
263. Such misery. Wr. suggests that misery may have the accent on
the penult both here and in K. John, iii. 4: “And buss thee as thy wife.
Misery's love,” etc. Cf. Gr. 490 (p. 390).
266. Speak me fair in death. Speak well of me when I am dead. “Ro-
meo that spoke him fair” (R. and Ş. iii. I. 158) means “Romeo that spoke
to him in conciliatory terms;” and, as Wr. remarks, this is the usual
meaning of the phrase. -
268. A loze. Cf. Zozer in iii. 4. 17 above. D. reads “lover * here.
269. A'epent not you. The quartos have “Repent but you,” which the
Camb. ed. retains. -- -
16o MO TE.S.
272. Instantly. R.'s quarto has “presently.”
With all my heart. Cf. Rich. II. ii. 1.74 fol., where the dying Gaunt
jests on his name: -
“Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old :
:: #: :* :* $
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,” etc.;
and where, in reply to Richard’s question, “Can sick men play so nicely
with their names P” he says: “No, misery makes sport to mock itself.”
274. Which is as dear. See on ii. 7.4 above.
286. These be. See on i. 3. 19 above.
287. Barraðas. So spelled in Tyndale's and Coverdale's versions. In
Marlowe's Jew of Malta the name is Barabas, not Barabbas (Wr.).
289. Pursue. Accented on the first syllable. Cf. fursuit in Sonn. I43. 4.
299. Zake them. The folios read “Then take.”
302. Confiscate. Confiscated. This Latinism is most frequent in verbs
derived from the first conjugation (as dedicate, consecrate, degenerate, suffo-
cate, etc.), but it is found in other Latin derivatives. See Gr. 342.
3.18. Be it but. The folios omit buſ.
319. Z%e su/stance. The amount.
325. I haze thee on the hip. See on i. 3. 40 above.
335. So taken. The folios have “taken so.”
340. Alien. A trisyllable. See on i. 1.8 above.
343. Contrive. Plot. Cf. J. C. ii. 3. 16: “the fates with traitors do
contrive;” and see our ed. p. 153.
359. Spirits. H's quarto and the folios have “spirit.”
363. Which humbleness, etc. Which humble entreaty on thy part may
induce me to commute for a fine.
364. Ay, for the state, etc. That is, the half which goes to the state
may be thus commuted, but not Antonio's.
374. An use. In trust for Shylock, for the purpose of securing it at his
death to Lorenzo. C/se does not mean interest, which Antonio has said
(i. 3. 55 above) that he neither gives nor takes.
380. Of all he dies possess'd. See on i. I. 125 above.
389. Thou shall. The quartos have “shalt thou.”
390. Ten more. To make up a jury of twelve. This, as Malone ob-
serves, appears to have been an old joke.
392. Home with me. The folios have “with me home.”
393. Desire your grace of £ardon. Cf. M. A. D. iii. 1, 185: “desire you
of more acquaintauce;” and Ot/... iii. 3. 212 : “beseech you of your par-
don.” So in Spenser, F. Q. ii. 9. 42 : “If it be I, of pardon I you
Brav.”
l #. Gratiſy. Recompense. Cf. Cor. ii. 2.44: “To gratify his noble
service,” etc.
403. Cope. Reward, requite.
412. Of force. Of necessity. Perforce is still used in this sense.
Attempt. Tempt. Cf. M. for M. iv. 2. 205: “neither my coat, integ-
rity, nor persuasion can with ease attempt you ’’ (Wr.).
442. Be valued gainst. The folios have “valued against,” the quartos
“valew'd gainst,” which requires “commandement” (the reading of both
A C 7' W. SCAAVE Z. I6 I
quartos and folio) to be a quadrisyllable. W. says that this pronuncia-
tion was obsolete in S.’s day; but it is required in I A/en. V/. i. 3. 20:
“From him I have express commandement.” See Gr. 488.
Scen E II.-6. Opon more advice. Upon further consideration. Cf.
M. for M. v. I.469: “ after more advice;” and A'ich. Z/. i. 3. 233: “upon
good advice” (after due deliberation), etc.
15. Old swearing. Old in this intensive or augmentative sense is com-
mon in writers of the time. For other examples in S., see Macb. ii. 3. 2,
Al/. W. i. 4.5, Much Ado, v. 2.98, and 2 Aen. A V. ii. 4. 21. Cf. the slang
phrase of our day, “a high old time.” The Italian zecchio, as D. remarks,
is (or was) used in the same sense.
ACT V.
SCENE I.—4. Troilus. S. in the play of 77 oilus and Cressida makes
“Cressid” the daughter of the soothsayer Calchas, but her name is not
found in classic fable. The allusion here is borrowed from Chaucer's
ZYoilus and Cresseide, in which the prince is described as watching “upon
the walles” for Cressida's coming.
7. Thisbe. The story of the Babylonian lovers, Pyramus and Thisbe,
is told by Ovid, Met. iv. 55. fol. Golding's translation was published in
1564, but S. may have read the original. He probably drew more directly
from Chaucer’s Zegende of Goode Women, in which Thisbe, Dido, and
Medea are introduced one after another.
Io. Dido. The picture of Dido is not in accordance with Virgil's nar-
rative. It may have been suggested by that of Ariadne in the Legende
of Goode Women (2187 fol.):
“to the stronde barefote fast she went.—
#: :k :* :6 :};
Hire kerchefe on a pole styked shee,
Ascaunce that he shulde hyt wel ysee,
And hym remembre that she was behynde,
And turn agayne, and on the stronde hire fynde.”
The earliest reference to the wil/ow as a symbol of forsaken love is
found in a M.S. collection of poems by John Heywood, about 1530. See
Brand’s Popular Antiquities, vol. i. pp. 12 I-124 (Bohn's ed.). Cf. Much
Ado, ii...I. 194, 225, Oth. iv. 3. 28 fol., 3 Aſen. V/. iii. 3. 228, etc.
II. Waſt. For waſted, as in A. John, ii. 1.73 : “Than now the English
bottoms have waft o'er.” Theo. altered it to waz'd, which W. and many
other editors adopt. Cf. Wift for lifted in I Æen. V/. i. I. 16, Gen. vii. 17,
As. xciii. 3, etc. Gr. 34I.
13. Medea. The allusion is to the fable of her restoring Æson, the father
of Jason, to youthful vigour by her enchantments. Ovid (Met. vii.) tells
us that she drew blood from his veins, and supplied its place with the juice
of certain herbs. In Gower's Conf. Am. there is a beautiful description
of Medea going forth at midnight to gather “the enchanted herbs:”
“Thus it befell upon a night
Whann there was nought but sterre light,
L
162 AVO 7TAZ.S.
She was vanished right as hir list,
That no wight but herself wist,
And that was at midnight tide,
The world was still on every side,” etc.
16. Unſhriſ. We have the adjective again in Z. of A. iv. 3. 311, and
the noun in A'ich. Z/. ii. 3. I22, Soyun. 9. 9 and 13. 13.
28. Stephano. In the Zemp. this name has the accent on the first syl-
lable, where it belongs.
31. Aſoly crosses. These are very common in Italy. Besides those in
churches, they mark the spots where heroes were born, where saints rest-
ed, where travellers died. They rise on hill-tops, 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 pass-
ing, and whose lamp nightly gleams over the waters, in moonlight and
storm (K.).
36. Go we in. See on ii. 8.53 above. In “let us prepare,” in the next
line, we have the ordinary form of the Ist pers, imperative.
39. Soča, etc. An imitation of the post-horn.
41. Master Zorenzo and Aſis/ress Zorenzo. R.'s quarto has “M. Lorenzo,
M. Lorenzo ;” H.’s quarto and the Ist folio, “M. Lorenzo & M. Loren-
zo ;” the later folios, “ M. Lorenzo, and Mrs. Lorenza.” The Camb. ed.
reads: “ did you see Master Lorenzo Master Lorenzo, sola, sola "
53. Music. This word sometimes meant musical instruments, or a band
of music. See Aſen. V//Z. iv. 2. 94: “Bid the music leave; They are
harsh,” etc. Cf. 98 below : “It is your music, madam, of the house.”
56. Creep in. On in for in ſo, see Gr. 159.
59. Patines. The patine was the plate used for the sacramental bread,
and was sometimes made of gold. R.'s quarto has “pattents;” H.’s
quarto and the 1st folio, “pattens;” and the 2d folio, “patterns,” which
is adopted by some modern editors.
61. Aſis motion. Aſis for its ; as in 82 below. Gr. 228.
Sings. For other allusions to the “music of the spheres” in S., see
A. and C. v. 2.84, 7. A. iii. I. I2 I, A. Y. Z. ii. 7.6, etc.
62. Cherubins. So in both quartos and first two folios; “cherubims”
in the later folios. The singular cherubin is found in Zemſ. i. 2. I52,
AZacó. i. 7. 22, Oſh. iv. 2.63, and Z. C. 319; cheruſ, only in Aſam. iv. 3. 50.
Cherubin occurs in Spenser and other poets of the time, and is used
even by Dryden. The French word is chérubin, the Italian cherubino,
the Spanish guerubin.
63. Such harmony, etc. Besides the music of the spheres, which no mor-
talear ever caught a note of, there was by some philosophers supposed to be
a harmony in the human soul. “Touching musical harmony,” says Hook-
er (quoted by Farmer), “whether by instrument or by voice, it being but
of high and low sounds in a due proportionable disposition, such, notwith-
standing, is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath in that very
part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced
to think that the soul itself, by nature is, or hath in it, harmony.” Iłut,
though this harmony is within us, “this muddy vesture of decay,” as the
poet tells us, “doth grossly close it in '' So that we cannot hear it.
ACT V. SCEAVE Z I63
72. Unhandled colts. Cf. Ariel's simile of the “unback'd colts,” Zemp.
iv. I. 176.
77. Mutual. Common. Cf. M. M. D. iv. I. 122: “mutual cry,” etc.
80. Orpheus. Cf. 7. G. of V. iii. 2.78:
“For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews,
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,” etc.;
and Æent. V///. iii. I. 3 :
“Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves when he did sing.”
87. A rebus. Cf. J. C. ii. 1.84: “Not Erebus itself were dim enough,”
etc. The word, though sometimes used figuratively for the lower world
in general, denotes strictly “a place of nether darkness between the Earth
and Hades.” .
99. Without respect. Absolutely, without regard to circumstances. St.
thinks it means without attention, and refers to the attended that follows.
103. Attended. Attended to, listened to attentively. Cf. Somm. 102.7 :
“As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days;
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
13ut that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.”
All the birds mentioned here—the crow, lark, cuckoo, etc.—are found in
Italv. º:
#. Æy season, etc. “By fitness of occasion are adapted or qualified
to obtain their just appreciation, and to show their true excellence.”
109. A'eace, ho? The old copies have “Peace . How the moon,” etc.,
and some of the editors prefer this reading. But, as D. remarks, “how”
is often the old spelling of ho! In J. C. i. 2. I we find “Peace, hol"
used, as here, to silence the music.
Andymion. A beautiful shepherd beloved by Diana. Fletcher, in
the Faithful She/herdess, tells
“How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove,
First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes
She took eternal fire that never dies;
How she convey'd him softly in a sleep,
His temples bound with poppy, to the steep
Head of old Latmos, where she stoops each night,
Gilding the mountain with her brother's light,
To kiss her sweetest.”
The fable appears in many forms in the classic writers, and has been a
favourite one with poets ever since.
I 15. Which speed. See on ii. 7.4 above.
121. A fucket sounds. This stage-direction is found in the 1st folio. A
tucket (probably from the Italian toccata) is a flourish on a trumpet. Cf.
Aſen. P. iv. 2.35: “Then let the trumpet Sound The tucket-sonance.”
127. We should hold day, etc. . We should have day when the Antipodes
do, if you, Portia, would walk abroad at night.
164 AVO 7'E.S.
129. Let me give light, etc. See on iii. 2.91 above.
132. God sort all ! God dispose all things Cf. Rich. //Z. ii. 3. 36:
“All may be well; but if God sort it so,
'T is more than we deserve, or I expect.”
136. In all sense. In all reason.
141. Breathing courtesy. Cf. Macb. v. 3. 27: “Mouth-honour, breath.”
146. Poesy. The poesy or fosy (for the two words are the same), of a ring
was a motto or rhyme inscribed upon its inner side. The fashion of put-
ting such “posies” on rings prevailed from the middle of the 16th to the
close of the 17th centuries.* In 1624 a little book was published with
the quaint title, Love's Garland, or Posies for Rings, Aſama'kerchieſs, and
G/ozes ; and such pretty tokens, that ſovers send their loves. Lyly, in his
A uphues, Part Second, 1597, hopes that the ladies will be favourable to his
work, “writing your judgments as you do the Posies in your rings, which
are always next to the finger, not to be seene of him that holdeth you by
the hand, and yet knowne by you that weare them on your hands.” The
Rev. Giles Moore, in his Journal, 1673–4, writes, “I bought for Ann Brett
a gold ring, this being the posy: When this you see, remember me.” Cf.
Aſam. iii. 2. 162: “Is this a prologue, or the poesy of a ring 2" In most
of the modern editions (not in K. or W.) we find “posy” in this pas-
sage, as well as in the M. of P. but the 1st folio has “Poesie” in both
plays. These are the only instances in which S. uses the word in this sense.
148. Leaze ºne not. Do not part with me. Aleave is used in the same
sense by Portia in 170 below.
154. Respective. Considerate, regardful. Cf. A. and 7. iii. I. 128: “re-
spective lenity;” which Malone well explains by “cool, considerate gen-
tleness.” See also Å. Johm, i. i. 188.
155. But well / know. Both quartos have “No, God 's my judge.”
The change may have been made on account of the statute of James I.
against the use of the name of God on the stage; but see on i. 2, 96 above.
156. On 's. For examples of similar contraction, see Gr. 182.
160. Scrubbed. Not merely stunted, as usually explained, but rather, as
W. gives it, “dwarfish and unkempt.” Cotgrave (Fr. and Æng. Dicſ.)
has, “Marpaut. An ill-fazloured scrub, a little ouglie or swartie wretch.”
Coles (Lat. and Æng. Dicf.) translates “scrubbed ” by squalidus.
175. I were best. Cf. J. C. iii. 3. 13: “truly you were best,” etc. Gr. 352.
197. The virtue of the ring. The power it has ; the right to me and
mine of which it is the pledge. See iii. 2. I71, where Portia gives the ring.
199. Contain. Retain ; as in Sony. 77.9: “what thy memory cannot
contain,” etc. It often means restrain ; as in 7 of A. ii. 2. 26: “Con-
tain thyself,” etc.
202. Had pleas'd to have defended. For “had pleased to defend.” The
inaccuracy is sometimes found in good writers of our day, and has even
been defended by one or two grammarians.
203. Wanted. As to have wanted.
* Inscriptions on the outside of rings have been common from the old Greek and
Roman times. Chaucer, in Troilus and Cresseide, describes the heroine as giving her
lover a ring with a love-motto upon it, and receiving one in return.
A/D/DAEAVOA. 165
2O4. Urge. Urge you to give it to him ; insist upon it. Ceremony=
a sacred thing.
208. Civil doctor. Doctor of civil law.
212. Did uphold. H.’s quarto and the folios have “had held up.”
218. Aror, by these, etc. The folios have “And, by these.” Cf. A. and
Ş. iii. 5. 9 : “Night's candles are burnt out;” Macb. ii. 1. 5: “There 's
husbandry in heaven ; Their candles are all out ;” and Fairfax's Tasso,
ix. Io: “When heaven's small candles next shall shine” (where the
original has merely di zºoſte). See also Sonn. 21. I2.
237. Wealth. Weal, welfare. In the Litany “wealth’’ is opposed to
“tribulation.”
238. Which. That is, which loan.
239. Miscarried. Perished; as in ii. 8. 29 and iii. 2. 310 above. Cf.
7. AV. p. 152, or 2 Hen. ZV. p. 182:
241. Advisedly. Deliberately. Cf. advised in i. 1. 142 and ii. 1.42 above.
257. A'ichly. Richly laden. Cf. “richly left,” i. 1. 161 above.
260. Ziving. See on livings, iii. 2. I56 above.
tº: Zo road. To harbour. Cf. “ports, and piers, and roads,” i. I. I9
a DOVC.
270. Satisfied of Satisfied concerning (Gr. 174); that is, you wish to
know more about them. At ful/=in full, fully.
272. And charge us, etc. “In the Court of Queen's Bench, when a
complaint is made against a person for ‘contempt,’ the practice is that
before sentence is finally pronounced he is sent into the Crown Office,
and being there “charged upon interrogatories’ he is made to swear that
he will “answer all things faithfully’” (Lord Campbell's Shakespeare's
Alegal Acquirements).
Zntergatories. This contracted form was common in S.'s time. We
find it even in prose in A. W. iv. 3. 207, as printed in the early editions.
The full form occurs in Å. john, iii. I. I.47. See also Cymb. p. 223.
AIDDENIDA.
THE “TIME-ANALYSIs” OF THE PLAY.-The Rev. N. J. Halpin, in
an elaborate paper published in the Transactions of the AVew Shakspere
Society, 1875–76, pp. 388–412, makes the entire time covered by the play
only thirty-nine hours, which he divides into two periods, with the inter-
val between them, as follows:
“I. The first period ranges from the opening of the action and the
borrowing of Shylock's money, to the embarkation of Bassanio and his
suite for Belmont [io hours].
“2. The second includes the time between Bassanio's arrival at Belmont
and his return to it, accompanied by Antonio after the trial [18 hours].
“3. And the interval between these two periods is concurrent with the
time of the bond, whatever that may be [I I hours, or from 9 P.M. of one
day to 8 A.M. of the next].”
Mr. Halpin assumes that the bond is a fraudulent one, payable at sight
166 AWO 7"E.S.
or on demand, which Shylock has substituted for the three-months bond
agreed upon.
In a note read before the New Shaks. Soc. Oct. 12th, 1877 (printed in
the 7% ansactions, 1877–79, pp. 41–57), and also in his paper “On the
Times or Durations of the Action of Shakspere's Plays” (same vol. of
7%ransactions, p. 148 fol.), Mr. P. A. Daniel shows the inaccuracy of Hal-
pin's scheme, and sums up his own “time-analysis” thus:
“Time: eight days represented on the stage; with intervals. Total
ftime: a period of rather more than three months.
Day I. Act I.
An/erzaſ—say a week. *
“ 2. Act II. sc. i.—vii.
Zuterval—one day. i
“ 3. Act II. sc. viii. and ix.
Interval—bringing the time to within a fortnight of the ma-
turity of the bond.
“ 4. Act III. sc. i.
Anterval—rather more than a fortnight.j
“ 5. Act III. sc. ii.-iv.
“ 6. Act III. sc. v., Act IV.
“ 7 and 8. Act V. §’”
BASSANIO's ARRows (i. 1. 140 fol.).—In the 7% ans. of AVew Shaks. Soc.
1877–79, p. 460, Mr. Furnivall quotes the following illustrative passage
from Quips zºom Questions, 1600:
“Aſow shall I Zwide it 3
Ile tell thee how to finde that eare againe.
Children, in shooting, when they loose an Arrow
In high growne or deepe grasse, omit no paine, -
But with their Bowes end, rake and search it narrow,
And when they bootlesse seeke, and finde it not,
After some sorrow, this amendes is got:
*
* In it. 2, we find Launcelot lamenting his hard life in Shylock's service; he knows
that Bassanio gives “rare new liveries,” and we may suppose that in going of errands
between Shylock and Bassanio he has gained his knowledge of the superior comforts to
be obtained in the service of the latter. He accordingly petitions to be admitted his
servant, and he obtains his end; for Bassanio “knows him well,” and tells him that
this very day Shylock himself has preferred him. This fact alone shows that Shylock—
however inwardly he has cherished his hate—has been at least for some little time in
familiar intercourse with Bassanio and his friends since the signing of the bond. Mean-
while Bassanio has engaged his ship, and is waiting for a fair wind; and Lorenzo has
been courting Jessica. Note also what Jessica says in iii. 2.279 fol. All this supposes
a lapse of time—say a week—since the signing of the bond.
f For Bassanio's journey to Belmont, etc.
# In iii. 1, Shylock says to Tubal : “Go, Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a forf-
might before.” However doubtful we may feel as to its flight, this distinct note of time
leaves us no choice but to believe in an interval, between this and the preceding scenes,
of sufficient length to bring the three-months bond to within a fortnight of its maturity.
§ After the trial Bassanio and Antonio propose to fly towards Belmont early next
morning. Portia and Nerissa start for home that night, and arrive on the next night
(Day 7) before their husbands. Act V. begins at a late hour that night, and ends two
hours before day (Day 8).
A ZODAAVZ)A. 167
An other shaft they shoote that direct way
As whilome they the first shot; and be plaine
Twentie to one, as I haue heard some say,
The former Arrow may be found againe.
So, as you lost the first eare, gentle brother,
Venture the second eare, to find the tother.
Nay, soft and faire, to do that I am loth ;
So I may happen for to lose them both.
Quift, {#. Zost than found; who will &eweeſe them £
Foo/s hatzing eares, yet do wazlt wit to Æeepe themz.”
A breed of barreſt metal (p. 136). Mr. Furnivall cites Middleton, 7%e
Ålacáe Booke: “coming to repay both the money and the breed of it—for
interest may well be called the usurer's bastard,” etc.
Sand-blind (p. 138). Mr. Furnivall quotes Baret, Alvearie, 1580: “Sand-
blind. Wide Bleare eied, & Poreblind ’’ (that is, purblind); and “Poore-
blind, or that seeth dimlie . . . Qui ha courſe zette.”
Aſo master, sir, but a foor man's son (ii. 2.43). Mr. Furnivall quotes
Sir Thomas Smith's Commonwealth of England (ed. 1612): “as for gen-
tleme, they be made good cheap in England. For whosoeuer studieth
the laws of the Realm, who studieth in the Uniuersities, who professeth
liberall Sciences: and to be short, who can liue idely, and without man-
ual labour, and will beare the port, charge and countenance of a Gentle-
man, hee shall bee called master, for that is the tytle which men giue to
Esquires, and other Gentlemen, and shall bee taken for a Gentleman.”
Cater-cousins (p. 139). W. G. S. (Trans. AWew Shaks. Soc. 1877–79, p.
463) finds an instance of this word in Mabbe's Guzman de Alfarache,
1623: “I was not halfe Cater-cousins with him, because by his meanes,
I had lost my Cloake, and sup’t vpon a Mule.”
Reply, reply (iii. 2.66). The early eds. print “Aſſow &egoź, how mour-
is/hea'. A'eplie, replie.” H. (“Harvard” ed.) follows Hanmer and
Johnson in reading “A’eply” as a stage-direction, though no other instance
of such use has been pointed out. As the Camb. editors remark, the
words “seem to be required as part of the song by the rhythm, and (if we
read eye with the quartos) by the rhyme also.” All recent editors except
H. retain them in the text.
Salerio (iii. 3. 214).-It is not strange that the similarity in the names
Salarino, Salazzio, and Salerio caused some confusion in the prefixes to
the speeches in the early eds, and also here and there in the text; but
the modern editors have made deliberate alterations that are less excusa-
ble than these slips of the old printers. Several of them have changed
Salanio to “Solanio,” though the former is the prevailing form in both
quartos and folios; and K. (followed by D., H., and others) assumes
that Salerio is a misprint for “Solanio.” It happens, however, that this
name is given with singular uniformity in the early eds.; and, as W.
remarks, “the style of Salerio’s speech shows that he is a person of infe-
xior rank to Salarino and Salanio.” No doubt some critic would be making
these latter two gentlemen one, if they did not several times appear on
the stage together. Furness thinks that the limited number of actors in
the old theatres would prevent the introduction of a new character here;
but this play has fewer characters than the average, even if we add Salerio.
I68 AZDA) EAWDA.
SILVAYN’s “ORATOR’’ (p. 12).-The 95th Declamation of 7%e Orator
is headed “Of a Jew, who would for his debt haue a pound of the flesh
of a Christian,” and reads as follows: “A Zezv, writo whom a Christian,
A/archant ought mine hundred crownes, would haue summoned him for the
same in Złºrcéie: the Merchant because he would not be discredited, prom-
ised to pay the said summe within the tearme of three months, and if he
A died it not, he was bound to giue him a pound of the flesh of his bodie
7%e tearme being past some fifteene daies, the Zew refused to take his money,
and demaunded the pound of ſles/, the ordinarie Zudge of that place ap-
£ointed him to cut a iust pound of the Christians flesh, and if he cut either
more or lesse, then his owne head should be smitten off: the Zew appealed
from this sentence, 2nſo the chiefe iudge, saying: .
Impossible is it to breake the credite of trafficke amongst men without
great detriment vnto the Commonwealth : wherfore no man ought to
bind himselfe vinto such couenants which hee cannot or wil not accom-
plish, for by that means should no man feare to be deceaued, and credit
being maintained, euery man might be assured of his owne; but since
deceit hath taken place, neuer wonder if obligations are made more rig-
orous and strict then they were wont, seeing that although the bonds are
made neuer so strong, yet can no man be very certaine that he shal not
be a loser. It seemeth at the first sight, that it is a thing no lesse strange
then cruel, to bind a man to pay a pound of the flesh of his bodie, for
want of money : Surely, in that it is a thing not vsuall, it appeareth to
be somewhat the more admirable, but there are diuers others that are
more cruell, which because they are in vse seeme nothing terrible at all :
as to binde al the bodie vnto a most lothsome prison, or vnto an intol-
ierable slauerie, where not only the whole bodie but also al the sences and
spirits are tormented, the which is commonly practised, not only betwixt
those which are either in sect or Nation contrary, but also euen amongst
those that are all of one sect and nation, yea amongst neighbours and
kindred, and euen amongst Christians it hath ben seene, that the son
hath imprisoned the father for monie. Likewise in the Roman Com-
monwealth, so famous for laws and armes, it was lawfull for debt, to im-
prison, beat, and afflict with torments the free Citizens: How manie
* - of them (do you thinke) would haue thought themseiues happie, if for a
Small debt they might haue ben excused with the painment of a pound
of their flesh 2 Who ought then to maruile if a Iew requireth so
small a thing of a Christian, to discharge him of a good round summer
A man may aske why I would not rather take siluer of this man, then
his flesh : I might alleage many reasons, for I might say that none but
my selfe can tell what the breach of his promise hath cost me, and what
I haue thereby paied for want of money vnto my creditors, of that which
I haue lost in my credit: for the miserie of those men which esteeme
their reputation, is so great, that oftentimes they had rather indure any
thing secretlie then to haue their discredit blazed abroad, because they
would not be both shamed and harmed. Neverthelesse, I doe freely
confesse, that I had rather lose a pound of my flesh, then my credit
should be in any sort cracked : I might also say that I haue need of
this flesh to cure a friend of mine of a certaine maladie, which is other-
wise incurable, or that I would haue it to terrifie thereby the Christians
A D/DA; AVZ).A. 169
for euer abusing the Iewes anie more hereafter : but I will onelie say,
that by his obiigation he oweth it me. It is lawfull to kill a souldior if
he come vnto the warres but an houre too late, and also to hang a theefe
though he steale neuer so little : is it then such a great matter to cause
such a one to pay a pound of his flesh, that hath broken his promise
manie times, or that putteth another in danger to lose both credit and
reputation, yea and it may be life and al for greife? were it not better
for him to lose that which I demand, then his soule, alreadie bound by his
faith ? Neither am I to take that which he oweth me, but he is to de-
liuer it me : And especiallie because no man knoweth better then he
where the same may be spared to the least hurt of his person, for I
might take it in such a place as hee might thereby happen to lose his
life : what a matter were it then, if I should cut of his [head], supposing
that the same would . . . weigh a just pound 2 . . . Should I be suffered
to cut it off, although it were with the danger of mine owne life? I be-
leeue I should not ; because there were as little reason therein, as there
could be in the amends whereunto I should be bound; or els if I would
cut off his nose, his lips, his eares, and pull out his eies, to make of them
altogether a pound, should I be suffered P Surely I thinke not, because
the obligation dooth not specifie that I ought either to chuse, cut, or
take the same, but that he ought to giue me a pound of his flesh. Of
euery thing that is sold, he which deliuereth the same is to make waight,
and he which receiueth, taketh heed that it be iust: seeing then that
neither the obligation, custome, nor law doth bind me to cut, or weigh,
much lesse vnto the aboue mentioned satisfaction, I refuse it all, and
require that the same which is due should bee deliuered vnto me.”
“The Christians Answere,” which follows, is about as long as the Jew's
plea, but contains nothing that bears any particular resemblance to Shake-
peare's text.

SHAKESPEAR K M EMORIAL HALLs STRATFORD.

INDEX OF
WORDS AND PHRASES
EXPLAINED.
a (capering, etc.), 132, 140.
a’ (=he), 139.
a many, I 55.
abide (=bear), 157.
accomplished, 154.
achieve, 151.
address, 145.
advice, 161.
advised, 130.
advisedly, 165.
afeard, 144.
agitation (=cogitation), 155.
alablaster, 129.
alas the while ! 137.
Alcides, 138, 148.
aleven, 140.
alien (trisyllable), 160.
all my whole, 154.
an (=if), 131.
and (=an), 131.
and so following, 134.
Andrew, 128.
angel (coin), 144.
apparent, 156. -
appropriation, 131.
approve (=prove), 149.
argosy, 127.
as (omitted), I 52.
as who should say, 129.
aspect (accent), 128, 137.
at full, 165.
attempt (=tempt), 169.
attended, 163.
avail (avale), 128.
aweary, 13 I.
balance (plural), 159.
Barrabas, 163.
bate, 153.
be (=are), 134, 144, 169.
be friends with. 136.
bechanced, 128.
beefs, 136.
beest, 144.
beholding (=beholden), 135.
beshrew, 143, 148.
best - conditioned and un-
wearied, 152.
bestow, 140.
best-regarded, 137.
bid forth, 142.
Black-Monday, 142.
blest or cursed'st, 138.
bonnet, 132.
bottom, 128.
brave, 154.
break his day, 136.
break up (= break open),
I4 I. -
breed of barren metal, 136,
167.
Brutus' Portia, 131.
by (=about), 132, 146.
came by it, 127.
Can, 133.
| carrion (in contempt), 156.
carrion death, 145.
cater-cousin, 139, 167.
cere-cloth, 144.
ceremony, 165.
Charybdis, 155.
charge upon interrogatories,
165.
cheer, 152, 155, 157.
cherubin, 162.
childhood proof, 130.
Circumstance, 130.
civil doctor, 165.
close (=secret), 143.
commandement, 160.
commends (noun), 146.
commodity, 131, 152.
companion (contemptuous),
I 53-
complexion (quadrisyllable),
137. .
compromised, 135.
conceit, 129, 153.
condition, 133.
confiscate (participle), 16o.
confound, 151. -
Constant, 151.
contain, 164.
contemplation (metre), 153.
continent, 150.
contrive (=plot), 160.
conveniency, 157.
convenient, 145, 154.
cope, 16O.
could not do withal, 154.
counterfeit, 150.
county (=count), 131.
courtesy, 128.
cousin, 154.
Cover, 146, 155.
crisped, 149.
Current, 157.
Curtsy, 128.
danger, 158.
Danielcometojudgment, 159.
Dardanian wives, 148.
deny, 152. -
description (quadrisyllable),
I R2
52.
desire you of pardon, 163.
determine, 157.
Dido, 16t.
disable, 144.
discharge, 151, 159.
discretion, 155.
distinct (accent), 146.
do, 127.
do we so, 145.
doit, 136.
doth, 151.
doublet, 132.
ducat, 133.
dull-eyed, 152.
dwell, 136.
eanling, 135.
Endymion, 163.
enow, I 55.
envious, 151.
envy, 151, 156.
Erebus, 163.
estate, 146, 151.
exceeding (adverb), 128.
excess, 135.
exclaim on, 150.
excrement, 149.
exhibit, 141.
172 IAWDAX OF WORDS AAWD PHRASES EXPLA/AWED.
fair (play upon), 137.
faithless, 141.
fall transitive), 135.
fancy (=love , 148.
father, 139.
fear, 137, 154, 165.
fearful, 137.
fill up (=fulfil), 158.
fill-horse, 139.
find forth, 13 ).
fire (dissyllable’, 146.
flight (of arrow), 135.
follow (=insist upon), 159.
fond, 146, 152.
fool (adjective), 130, 146.
fool-gudgeon, 129.
for (=because), 134.
forfeit, 152.
forth, 128, 130, 142.
fraught, 145.
from (=away from), 150.
gaberdine, 135.
gaged, 130.
gaping pig, 157.
garnished, 155.
gear, I 3O, I40.
Gentile (play upon), 143, 156.
glister, 145.
go give, 158.
go hard, 148.
go to, 136.
go we in, 162.
God bless the mark! 138.
God's Sonties, 139.
good, 133.
good Sweet, 155.
Goodwins, 147.
gramercy, 139.
gratify, 163.
gree, 139. .
guard (=trim), 142.
gudgeon, 129.
guiled, 149.
had better, 132.
had rather to, 132.
hair (dissyllable), 152.
hairs, 155.
hangman, 157.
hard food for Midas, 149.
hear thee, 149.
high-day, 147.
his (=its), 162.
hit, 151.
hood, 143.
hose (round), 132.
hour (dissyllable), 146.
husbandry, 153.
Hyrcanian, 144.
I (=me), 152.
I were best, 164.
I wis, 146.
if that, 143, 151.
impeach the freedom of the
State, 151.
imposition, 132, 153.
in (=go in), 140.
in (=into), 162.
in all sense, 164.
in supposition, 134.
incarnation, 138.
Indian beauty, 149.
insculped, 144.
interest, 134.
intermission (metre), 151.
inter'gatories, 165.
Jacks, 154.
Jacob's staff, 142.
Janus, 128.
Jewess, 142.
judgment, 157.
jump, 146.
keep (=dwell), 152.
knap, 147.
knave, 137.
leave (=part with), 164.
level at, 131.
liberal, 140.
Lichas, 138.
light (play upon) 149, 164.
like (=likely), 144,
likely, 147.
liver, 129, 149.
living, 150, 165.
lodged, 156.
loose, 156.
love (=lover), 159.
lover, 153.
magnificoes, 151.
main, 157
manage (noun), 153.
marry, 138.
martlet, 146.
master (as title), 167.
masters of passion, 157.
match, 147.
may, 133. .
me (expletive), 135, 139.
Medea, 161.
mere, 151.
methought, 135.
Midas, 149.
mincing, 154.
mind of love, 145.
misbeliever, 135.
miscarried, 165.
misery (accent), 159.
mislike, 137.
In Oe, I 30, 143.
moiety, 156.
more elder, I
music (=musicians), 162.
muttons, I 36.
mutual, 163.
myself (subject), 137.
narrow Seas, 145.
naughty, 152.
needs, 133, 141, 159.
Nestor, 128.
nice, 137.
no impediment to let him
lack, 158.
nor (double negative), 131,
138.
nothing undervalued, 131.
obdurate (accent), 145.
obliged, 142.
obscure (accent), 144.
occasion, 130, 155.
ocean (trisyllable), 127.
o'erlooked, 148.
o'er-stare, 137.
of (=about), 135, 165.
of (=by, with), 141.
of (=for), 142.
of (omitted), 130, 160.
of force, 160.
old (intensive), 161.
on your charge, 159.
On 't, I43.
opinion (quadrisyllable), 127,
I55.
opinion of wisdom, 129.
Orpheus, 163.
Ostent, 141, I45.
other (plural), 128.
overpeer, 127.
over-weathered, 143.
Padua, 153.
pageant, 127.
pain (=pains), 140.
parcel, 133.
part (=depart), 145.
parts, 157.
passion, 145, 157.
patch, 142.
patine, 162.
pawned, 155.
peep through their eyes, 128.
peize, 148.
persuaded with, 151.
pied, 135.
pilled, 135.
play the fool, 129. -
please (impersonal), 134, 136.
pleasure (verb), 133.
poesy, 164,
port, I30, 151.
Portia, 131.
possess, 135, 156.
AVADAEX OF WOA’ D.S AAWD AAA’A.S.A.S AXAE/A/AWAE/O.
post, 147.
posy, 164.
prefer, 140.
presence, 148.
presently, 131.
prest, 13O.
prevent, 128.
prize (=contest), 150.
producing holy witness, 135.
proof, 13o.
proper, 132.
provided of, 141.
pursue (accent), 169.
Pythagoras, 158.
quaint, 141, 154.
quarrelling with occasior,155.
question, 156.
quicken his embraced heavi-
neSS, I45.
rath, 132.
rather, 132.
raw, I 54.
reason (=converse), 145.
regreet, 146.
remorse, 156.
reproach (play upon), 142.
respect, 129, 163.
respective, 164.
rest (set up one's), 139. .
rest you fair, 135.
Rialto, 134.
richly left, 130, 165.
ripe, 135.
riping, 145.
road, 165.
royal merchant, 156.
ruin (=refuse), 146.
running with thy heels, 138.
Sabaoth (=Sabbath), 156.
Salerio, 167.
sand-blind, 138, 167.
Scant, 137.
Scape, 151.
scrubbed, 164.
Scylla, 155.
sealed under for another, 132.
season, 158.
seasoned, 149.
self (adjective), 130.
sensible, 145, 146.
shall (=will, 130, 151.
should, 130, 132, 151.
show (=appear), 158.
shows (= represents), 158.
shrewd, 151.
Sibylla, 133.
sisters three, 139.
skipping spirit, 140.
slubber, 145.
Sinlug, I47.
SO . . . aS, 133.
so (=if), 150.
so (omitted), 154.
So (=so be it), 136.
Sola, 162.
something (adverb), 130.
sometime, 130.
sometimes, 130.
Sonties, 139.
Sooth, 127.
soothsayer, 127.
Sophy, 137.
sort (= dispose), 164.
sort (noun), 132.
soul (play upon), 157.
speak me fair, 159.
sped, 146.
Spet, I 35-
spirit (monosyllable", 140.
spoke (=spoken), 150.
spoke us of 141.
. Squander, 134.
starve, 158.
State, 15 I.
stead, 133.
Stephano (accent", 162.
sterve, 158.
still, 128, 130, 149, 159.
studied in a fair ostent, 141.
substance (= amount), 16o.
Success, I 51.
suited, 132, 155
Sultan Solyman, 137.
sum of nothing, 150.
Swan-like end, 148.
Sweet, 155.
swelling port, 130.
table (of the hand), 14o.
teaches (plural), 136.
that (with conj.), 143, 155.
the which, 133, 153.
thee (=thou), 140.
then (=than), 13 1.
therefore (position of), 129.
this (= all this), 128.
thorough (=through), 144.
throughfare, 144.
throughly, 144, 158.
thrift, 131.
throstle, 132.
to-night (=last night), 142.
too-too, 143.
tranect, I 54.
Tripolis, 134.
tricksy, 155.
Troilus, 161.
truth (=honesty), 159.
tucket, 163.
turquoise, 148.
uncapable, 155.
underta'en, 14 .
I73
undertook, 141.
undervalued, 130, 144.
unhandled colts, 163.
unthrift, 162.
untread again, 143.
upon more advice, 161.
upon my power, 157.
upon Supposed fairness, 149.
upon the hip, 134, 160.
urge, 165.
uSall Ce, I 34.
use, 159, 160.
uSury, I 34.
vail, 128.
Vantage. I5o.
vasty, 144.
venture, 128.
Venus' pigeons, 142.
very (adjective), 151, 159.
via! 138.
vild (= vile), 132.
vinegar aspect, 128.
virtue, 164.
waft (= wafted), 161.
waste, 153.
wealth, 165.
weeping philosopher, 132.
what (=what a), 141.
what (of impatience), 141.
where (= whereas), 156.
which (omitted), 13 1.
which (the), 133, 153.
which (=who), 144, 163.
whiles, 133.
who (omitted", 129. 156.
who (=which), 144, 158.
who (=whom), 131, 143.
who (with supplementary
pronoun), 136.
why, So. 148.
wilful stillness, 129.
will, 142.
will (verb omitted), 141. 150.
Wit, 137.
with all my heart (play ul on),
16o.
with imagined speed, 154.
within his danger, 158.
within the eye of honour, 130.
wives (= women, 148.
would, 134.
wracked, 147.
writ, 141.
wroth, 146.
wry-necked fife, 142.
yeanling, 135.
yet (with negative), 146.
younger (=younker), 143
yours (dissyllable), 148.
ywis, 146.
ANNE HATHAWAY'S COTTAGE AT SHOTTERY.

SHAKESPEARE.
WITH NOTES BY WM. J. ROLFE, Litt.D.
The Merchant of Venice. King Lear.
The Tempest. The Taming of the Shrew.
Julius Caesar. All's Well That Ends Well.
Hamlet. Coriolanus.
As You Like It. * Comedy of Errors.
Henry the Fifth. Cymbeline.
Macbeth. Merry Wives of Windsor.
Henry the Eighth. Measure for Measure. .
A Midsummer-Night's Dream. | Two Gentlemen of Werona,
Richard the Second. Love’s Labor 's Lost.
Richard the Third. Tiimon of Athens.
Much Ado About Nothing. Henry VI. Part I.
Antony and Cleopatra. Henry VI. Part II.
IRomeo and Juliet. Henry VI. Part III.
()thełlo. Troilus and Cressida.
Twelfth Night. Pericles, Prince of Tyre.
The Winter’s Tale. The Two Noble Kinsmen.
King John. * . . Poems.
Henry IV. Part I. Sonnets.
Henry IV. Part II. Titus Andronicus.
Illustrated. 16mo, Cloth, 56 cents per vol., Paper, 40 cents per vol.
FRIENDLY EDITION, complete in 20 vols., 16mo, Cloth, $30 oo;
Half Calf, $60 oo. (Sold only in Seſs.) .
In the preparation of this edition of the English Classics it has been
the aim to adapt them for school and home reading, in essentially the
same way as Greek and Latin Classics are edited for educational pur-
poses. The chief requisites are a pure text (expurgated, if necessary),
and the notes needed for its thorough explanation and illustration.
Each of Shakespeare's plays is complete in one volume, and is pre-
ceded by an Introduction containing the “History of the Play,” the
“Sources of the Plot,” and “Critical Comments on the Play.”
Arom HoRACE HowARD FURNESs, Ph.D., LL.D., Zaitor of the “AWezy
Variorum, Shakespeare.”
No one can examine these volumes and fail to be impressed with the
conscientious accuracy and scholarly completeness with which they are
edited. The educational purposes for which the notes are written Mr.
Rolfe never loses sight of, but like “a well-experienced archer hits the
mark his eye doth level at.”
2
U. . Rolfe's Shakespeare.
From F. J. FURNIVALL, Director of the Mew Shakspere Society, London.
The merit I see in Mr. Rolfe's school editions of Shakspere's Plays
over those most widely used in England is that Mr. Rolfe edits the plays
as works of a poet, and not only as productions in Tudor English. Some
editors think that all they have to do with a play is to state its source
and explain its hard words and allusions; they treat it as they would a
charter or a catalogue of household furniture, and then rest satisfied.
But Mr. Rolfe, while clearing up all verbal difficulties as carefully as any
Dryasdust, always adds the choicest extracts he can find, on the spirit
and special “note" of each play, and on the leading characteristics of its
chief personages. He does not leave the student without help in getting
at Shakspere's chief attributes, his characterization and poetic power.
And every practical teacher knows that while every boy can look out
hard words in a lexicon for himself, not one in a score can, unhelped,
catch points of and realize character, and feel and express the distinctive
individuality of each play as a poetic creation.
From Prof. EDWARD Dowden, LL.D., of the University of Dublin,
Author of “Shakspere. His Mind and Art.”
I incline to think that no edition is likely to be so useful for school
and home reading as yours. Your notes contain so muth accurate in-
struction, with so little that is superfluous ; you do not neglect the aes-
thetic study of the plays; and in externals, paper, type, binding, etc., you
make a book “pleasant to the eye” (as well as “to be desired to make
one wise ’’)—no small matter, I think, with young readers and with old.
From EDw1N A. ABBOTT, M.A., Author of “Shakespearian Grammay.”
I have not seen any edition that compresses so much necessary infor-
mation into so small a space, nor any that so completely avoids the
common faults of commentaries on Shakespeare—needless repetition,
superfluous explanation, and unscholar-like ignoring of difficulties.
From HIRAM Corso N., M.A., Professor of Anglo-Saxon and English
I.iferature, Corne// Unizersity, Z//haca, AZ. Y.
In the way of annotated editions of separate plays of Shakespeare for
educational purposes, I know of none quite up to Rolfe's.

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