To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond?
Por. It is not so express'd; But what of that?
"Twere good you do so much for charity.

Shy. I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond.
Por. Come, merchant, have you any thing to say?
Ant. But little; I am arm'd, and well prepar'd.-
Give me your hand, Bassanio; fare you well!
Grieve not that I am 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 out-live his wealth,
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;
For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough,
I'll pay it instantly with all my heart.

Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife,

Por. It must not be; there is no power in Venice Which is as dear to me as life itself:

Thyself shall see the act:
For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd,
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st.
Gra. O learned judge!-Mark, Jew;-a learn-
ed judge!

Shy. I take this offer then ;-pay the bond thrice,
And let the Christian go.

Here is the money.

Bass.
Por.
Soft;
The Jew shall have all justice:-soft!- -no haste ;-
He shall have nothing but the penalty.

Gra. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge!
Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh,'
Shed thou no blood; nor cut thou less, nor more,
But just a pound of flesh if thou tak'st more,
Or less, than a just pound,-be it but so much
As makes it light, or heavy, in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part

Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do turn
But in the estimation of a hair,-
Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate.
Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.

Por. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy for-
feiture.

Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. Bass. I have it ready for thee; here it is. Por. He hath refus'd it in the open court; He shall have merely justice, and his bond.

For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's;
The other half comes to the general state,
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.

Por. Ay, for the state; not for Antonio.
Shy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that:
You take my house, when you do take the prop
That doth sustain my house; you take my life,
When you do take the means whereby I live."
Por. What merey can you render him, Antonio ?
Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake.
Ant. So please my lord the duke and all the court,
To quit the fine for one half of his goods;
I am content, so he will let me have
The other half in use,2-to render it,
Upon his death, unto the gentleman
That lately stole his daughter:

Two things provided more.-That, for this favour,
He presently become a Christian;
The other, that he do record a gift,
Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd,
Unto his son Lorenzo, and his daughter.
Duke. He shall do this; or else I do recant
The pardon that I late pronounced here.
Por. Art thou contented, Jew, what dost thou say?
Shy. I am content.

Por.

Clerk, draw a deed of gift.
Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
I am not well; send the deed after me,
And I will sign it.

Duke.

Get thee gone, but do it. Gra. In christening thou shalt have two godfathers;

Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more; 3

To bring thee to the gallows, not to the font.

[Exit SHYLOCK. Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. Por. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon;

I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meet I presently set forth.

Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
Antonio, gratify this gentleman;

Gra. A Daniel, still say I'; a second Daniel!-For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.

I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal?
Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.

Shy. Why then the devil give him good of it!
I'll stay no longer question.

Por.

Tarry, Jew;

The law hath yet another hold on you.

It is enacted in the laws of Venice,

If it be prov'd against an alien,

That by direct, or indirect attempts,
He seek the life of any citizen,

The party, 'gainst the which he doth contrive,
Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
And the offender's life lies in the mercy
Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice.
In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st:
For it appears by manifest proceeding,
That, indirectly, and directly too,
Thou hast contriv'd against the very life
Of the defendant: and thou hast incurr'd
The danger formerly by me rehears'd.
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke.
Gra. Beg, that thou may'st have leave to hang
thyself:

And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's
charge.

Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our
spirit,

I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:

1 Balthasar Gracian, the celebrated Spanish Jesuit, in his Hero, relates a similar judgment, which he attributes to the great Turk.

2 Antonio's offer has been variously explained. It appears to be that he will quit his share of the fine, as the duke has already done that portion due to the state,

[Exeunt Duke, Magnificoes, and Train.
Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
Of grievous penaltics; in lieu whereof,
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
Ant. And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.

Por. He is well paid that is well satisfied;
And I, delivering you, am satisfied,
And therein do account myself well paid;
My mind was never yet more mercenary.
I pray you, know me, when we meet again;

I wish you well, and so I take my leave.

Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you fur

ther;

Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you,
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield.
Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake;
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.

Bass. This ring, good sir,-alas, it is a trifle;
I will not shame myself to give you this.
Por. I will have nothing else but only this;
And now, methinks, I have a mind to it.
Bass. There's more depends on this, than on the
value.

The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And find it out by proclamation:
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.

Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers:

if Shylock will let him have it in use (i. e. at interest)
during his life, to render it at his death to Lorenzo.'
3 i. e. a jury of twelve men to condemn him. This
appears to have been an old joke.

You taught me first to beg: and now, methinks,
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd.
Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my
wife;

And when she put it on, she made me vow,
That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it.

Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their
gifts.

An if your wife be not a mad woman,
And know how well I have deserv'd this ring,
She would not hold out enemy for ever,
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!
[Exeunt PORTIA and NERISSA.
Ant. My lord Bassanio, let him have the ring;
Let his deservings, and my love withal,
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment.
Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him,
Give him the ring; and bring him, if thou canst,
Unto Antonio's house ;-away, make haste.
[Exit GRATIANO.
Come, you and I will thither presently;
And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont: Come Antonio.

[Exeunt.

• SCENE II. The same. A Street. Enter PORTIA

and NERISSA.

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew:
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice,
As far as Belmont.
In such a night,
Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well;
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,
In such a night,

And ne'er a true one.

Lor.

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

Jes. I would out-night you, did nobody come:
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
Enter STEPHANO.

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Steph. A friend.

Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray
you, friend?

Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word,

Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this My mistress will before the break of day

1 i. e. more reflection. 2 of this once common augmentative in colloquial uage there are various instances in the plays of Shakspeare, in the sense of abundant, frequent.

3 The several passages beginning with these words are imitated in the old comedy of Wily Beguiled, writen before 1596. See the play in Hawkins's Origin of She Drama, vol. iii.

4 This image is from Chaucer's Troilus and Cresside, b. v. v. 666, and 1142.

5 Steevens observes that this is one instance, among many, that might be brought to prove that Shakspeare was no reader of the classics.

6 Steevens refers to Gower's description of Medea in his Confessio Amantis.

Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays
For happy wedlock hours."

Lor.
Who comes with her?
Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet return'd?
Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him.-
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,

And ceremoniously let us prepare

Some welcome for the mistress of the house.

Enter LAUNcelot.

Laun. Sola, sola, wo, ha, ho, sola, sola!

Lor. Who calls?

Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, and mistress Lorenzo? sola, sola!

Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here.

Laun. Sola! Where? where?

Lor. Here.

Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning. [Exit.

Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their
coming.

And yet no matter;-Why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.-

[Exit STEPHANO.
How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank!
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music

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,
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it.-10

7 So in the Merry Devil of Edmonton :

But there are crosses, wife; here's one in Waltham,
Another at the abbey, and the third

At Ceston; and 'tis ominous to pass
Any of these without a Pater-noster.'

And this is a reason assigned for the delay of a wedding
8 So in Churchyard's Worthines of Wales, 1587:
A musicke sweete that through our eares shall creepe
By secret arte, and lull a man asleep.'

9 A small flat dish or plate, used in the administration of the Eucharist; it was commonly of gold, or silver-gilt. 10 The folio editions, and the quarto printed by Rs. berts, read:

Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close in it, we cannot hear it.'

Enter Musicians.

Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.
[Music.
Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet music.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,1
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or any air of music touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the 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;2
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:
Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music.

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA at a distance.
Por. That light we see, is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the

candle.

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less:
A substitute shines brightly as a king,
Until a king be by; and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect;3
Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by day.
Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection!-
Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd!

Lor.

[Music ceases.

That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their
Followers.

Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walk in absence of the sun.

Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light;
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,
And never be Bassanio so for me;

But God sort all!-You are welcome home, my lord.
Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my
friend.-

This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.

Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him,
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of
Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house:
It must appear in other ways than words,
Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.

[GRATIANO and NERISSA seem to talk apart.
Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong;
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk:
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
Since you do take it, love, so much at heart.
Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the matter?
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me; whose posy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not.

Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value?
You swore to me, when I did give it you,
That you would wear it till your hour of death;
And that it should lie with you in your grave:
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should have been respective, and have kept it.
Gave it a judge's clerk!-but well I know,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face that had it.
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
Gra Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,-
A kind of boy; a little scrubbed boy,
No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk;
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee;
I could not for my heart deny it him.

with

Por. You were to blame, I must be plain
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And riveted so with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands;
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth

you,

Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, cuckoo,

By the bad voice.

Lor.

Dear lady, welcome home.

Por. We have been praying for our husbands'

welfare,

Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd?

Lor.

Madam, they are not yet; But there is come a messenger before,

To signify their coming.
Por.

Go in, Nerissa,

Give order to my servants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence ;-
Nor you, Lorenzo ;-Jessica, nor you.

A tucket sounds.
Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet;
We are no tell-tales, madam; fear
you not.

Por. This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick,
It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,
Such as a day is when the sun is hid.

1 We find the same thought in the Tempest:
-Then I beat my tabor,

At which, like unback'd colts, they pricked their ears,
Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music.'

Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed,
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine:
And neither man, nor master, would take aught
But the two rings.

Por.
What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.
Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it; but you see, my finger
Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.

Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth.
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.

2 Steevens, in one of his splenetic moods, censures this passage as neither pregnant with physical and Knives were formerly inscribed, by means of aqua moral truth, nor poetically beautiful; and, with the as-fortis, with short sentences in distich. sistance of Lord Chesterfield's tirade against music, devels a blow at the lovers and professors of it.

9 Respective, that is considerative, regarḍful; not respectful or respectable as Steevens supposed

Ner. Nor I in yours,

Till I again see mine.
Bass.

Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I
gave
the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Or your own honour to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to have defended it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony ?2
Nerissa teaches me what to believe;
I'll die for't, but some woman had the ring.
Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,

Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away;
Even he that had held up the very life

And bid him keep it better than the other.

Ant. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.

Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor!

Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio: For by this ring the doctor lay with me.

Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano;
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk,
In lieu of this, last night did lie with me.

Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways
In summer, where the ways are fair enough;
What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it?
Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amaz'd:
Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
There you
shall find, that Portia was the doctor;
Nerissa there, her clerk: Lorenzo here
Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you,
And but even now return'd: I have not yet

Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? Enter'd my house.-Antonio, you are welcome;

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 candles3 of the night,

Had you been there, I think, you would have begg'd
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my 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,
No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it:

Lie not a night from home; watch me, like Argus:
If you do not, if I be left alone,

Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own,
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd,
How you do leave me to mine own protection.
Gra. Well, do you so: let not me take him then;
For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen.

Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels.
Por. Sir, grieve not you; You are welcome not-
withstanding.

Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong;
And, in the hearing of these many friends,
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes,
Wherein I see myself,-

Por.

Mark you but that!
In both my eyes he doubly sees himself:
In each eye, one :-swear by your double self,
And there's an oath of credit.

Bass.
Nay, but hear me:
Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear,
I never more will break an oath with thee.
Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth;"
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring,
[TO PORTIA.
1 To contain had nearly the same meaning with to
retain.

2 i. e. kept in a measure religiously, or superstitiously. 3 We have again the same expression in one of Shakspeare's Sonnets, in Macbeth, and in Romeo and

And I have better news in store for you,
Than you expect unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find, three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour suddenly;
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.

Ant.

I am dumb.

Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you not? Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me cuckold?

Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it ; Unless he live until he be a man.

Bass. Sweet doctor you shall be my bedfellow; When I am absent, then lie with my wife.

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and
living;

For here I read for certain, that my ships
Are safely come to road.

Por.
How now, Lorenzo?
My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.
Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee.-
There do I give to you, and Jessica,
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift,
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of.
Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way
Of starved people.

Por,
It is almost morning,
And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Of these events at full: Let us go in ;
And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gra. Let it be so: The first inter'gatory
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay;
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day:
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. ~ [Exeunt.
OF the Merchant of Venice the style is even and easy,
with few peculiarities of diction, or anomalies of con-
struction. The comic part raises laughter, and the
serious fixes expectation. The probability of either one
or the other story cannot be maintained. The union of
two actions in one event is in this drama eminently hap-
py. Dryden was much pleased with his own address
in connecting the two plots of his Spanish Friar, which
yet, I believe, the critic will find excelled by this play.
JOHNSON.