Act II, Scene IX — Belmont. A room in PORTIA’S house
Enter NERISSA with a Servitor.
Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight: The Prince of Arragon hath ta’en his oath, And comes to his election presently.
Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF ARRAGON, PORTIA, and their trains.
Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince: If you choose that wherein I am contain’d, 5 Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized: But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, You must be gone from hence immediately.
Ar. I am enjoin’d by oath to observe three things: First, never to unfold to any one 10 Which casket ’twas I chose; next, if I fail Of the right casket, never in my life To woo a maid in way of marriage: Lastly, If I do fail in fortune of my choice, 15 Immediately to leave you and be gone.
Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
Ar. And so have I address’d me. Fortune now To my heart’s hope! Gold; silver; and base lead. 20 ‘Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.’ You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: ‘Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.’ What many men desire! that ‘many’ may be meant 25 By the fool multitude, that choose by show, Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach; Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force and road of casualty. 30 I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits, And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house; Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: 35 ‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:’ And well said too; for who shall go about To cozen fortune, and be honourable Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume To wear an undeserved dignity. 40 O, that estates, degrees and offices Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! How many then should cover that stand bare! How many be commanded that command! 45 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.’ 50 I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, And instantly unlock my fortunes here.
[He opens the silver casket.
Por. Too long a pause for that which you find there.
Ar. What’s here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, Presenting me a schedule! I will read it. 55 How much unlike art thou to Portia! How much unlike my hopes and my deservings! ‘Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.’ Did I deserve no more than a fool’s head? Is that my prize? are my deserts no better? 60
Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, And of opposed natures.
Ar. What is here?
[Reads] The fire seven times tried this; Seven times tried that judgement is, That did never choose amiss. 65 Some there be that shadows kiss; Such have but a shadow’s bliss: There be fools alive, I wis, Silver’d o’er; and so was this. Take what wife you will to bed, 70 I will ever be your head: So be gone: you are sped. Still more fool I shall appear By the time I linger here: With one fool’s head I came to woo, 75 But I go away with two. Sweet, adieu. I’ll keep my oath, Patiently to bear my wroth.
[Exeunt Arragon and train.
Por. Thus hath the candle singed the moth. O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, 80 They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy, Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Where is my lady?
Por. Here: what would my lord? 85
Serv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate A young Venetian, one that comes before To signify the approaching of his lord; From whom he bringeth sensible regreets, To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 90 Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen So likely an ambassador of love: A day in April never came so sweet, To show how costly summer was at hand, As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 95
Por. No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, Thou spend’st such high-day wit in praising him. Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see Quick Cupid’s post that comes so mannerly. 100
Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: The Merchant of Venice, II, 9.
Act II, Scene IX — ] SCENE V. Rowe. SCENE X. Pope. SCENE VIII. Dyce
3: Flourish of cornets.] Ff. om. Qq.
Enter...] Enter Arragon, his traine and Portia. Qq Ff.
7: you] Qq. thou Ff.
13–15: marriage: Lastly, If I do] Edd. marriage: Lastly, if I do Qq Ff. marriage: Last, if I Pope. marriage; lastly, If I do Capell.
19, 20: me. Fortune...hope!] me, fortune...hope: Qq Ff.
22: After this line Mr Lloyd proposes to insert ‘Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:’ see l. 35.
25: desire!] desire, Qq Ff.
’many’ may] may Pope.
25, 26: that...By the] by that many may be Meant the Grant White conj.
26: By the fool] Of the full Pope.
28: pries not to the] prize not the Collier MS.
30: road] rode Qq Ff.
33: multitudes] multitude S. Walker conj.
39: merit?] Rowe. merit, Qq Ff.
42: and] om. Pope.
46: peasantry] Q2 Q3 Q4. pesantry Q1. pleasantry Ff.
46–48: glean’d...Pick’d] pick’d...Glean’d Johnson conj.
48: chaff] F4. chaffe Q1 F1 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. chaft Q2.
ruin] rowing or rowen Steevens conj.
49: varnish’d] vernish’d Q1. varnist Q2. vanned Warburton.
51: for this] om. Steevens (Ritson conj.).
52: [He...casket.] Rowe. om. Qq Ff.
57: deservings] deserving F4.
58: have] Qq Ff. get Knight.
60: prize] price Capell conj.
62: is] om. Q1.
64: judgement] judement Q2.
68: I wis] See note (VI).
70: wife] wise Jackson conj.
72: be gone] Qq F1. be gone sir F2 F3 F4. farewel, sir Capell.
73: Still] Q1. Arrag. Still Q2 Q3 Q4. Ar. Still Ff.
78: wroth] Q3 Q4. wroath Q1 Q2 Ff. wrath Warburton. roth Dyce.
[Exeunt...train.] Capell. [Exit. Rowe. om. Qq Ff.
79: moth] Q1 F3 F4. moath Q2 F1 F2 Q3 Q4.
81: the wisdom] their wisdome Q1.
83: goes] go Hanmer.
84: Enter a Servant.] Rowe. Enter Messenger. Qq Ff.
85: Por.] Ner. Tyrwhitt conj.
90: courteous] curious Q3 Q4.
95: fore-spurrer] fore-spurrier Capell (corrected in MS.).
96: afeard] afraid Pope.
97: Thou wilt] Thou’lt Pope.
100: Quick Cupid’s post] Cupid’s quick post Collier MS.
101: Bassanio, lord Love,] Rowe. Bassanio Lord, love Q1 Q2 F1 F2 F3. Bassanio, Lord, Love Q3 Q4. Bassanio Lord, love, F4. ~~~~~
Act III, Scene I — Venice. A street.
Enter SALANIO and SALARINO.
Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto?
Salar. Why, yet it lives there unchecked, that Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried, 5 as they say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word.
Salan. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever knapped ginger, or made her neighbours believe she wept for the death of a third husband. But it is true, without 10 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!—
Salar. Come, the full stop.
Salan. Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he 15 hath lost a ship.
Salar. I would it might prove the end of his losses.
Salan. Let me say ‘amen’ betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.
Enter SHYLOCK.
How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants? 20
Shy. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my daughter’s flight.
Salar. That’s certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor that made the wings she flew withal.
Salan. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird 25 was fledged; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave the dam.
Shy. She is damned for it.
Salar. That’s certain, if the devil may be her judge.
Shy. My own flesh and blood to rebel! 30
Salar. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years?
Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood.
Salar. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods than there is between red wine and rhenish. But tell us, do 35 you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no?
Shy. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto; a beggar, that was used to come so smug upon the mart; let him look to his bond: he was wont to call me usurer; let 40 him look to his bond: he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him look to his bond.
Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh: what’s that good for?
Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it 45 will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what’s his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, 50 dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if 55 you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? if we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. 60 The villany you teach me, I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, and desires to speak with you both.
Salar. We have been up and down to seek him. 65
Enter TUBAL.
Salan. Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew.
[Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant.
Shy. How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thou found my daughter?
Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot 70 find her.
Shy. Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it till now: two thousand ducats in that; and other precious, precious jewels. 75 I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear! would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin! No news of them? Why, so:— and I know not what’s spent in the search: why, thou loss upon loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to 80 find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge: nor no ill luck stirring but what lights on my shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tears but of my shedding.
Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I heard in Genoa,— 85
Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck?
Tub. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis.
Shy. I thank God, I thank God! Is’t true, is’t true?
Tub. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck. 90
Shy. I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good news! ha, ha! where? in Genoa?
Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one night fourscore ducats.
Shy. Thou stickest a dagger in me: I shall never see 95 my gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats.
Tub. There came divers of Antonio’s creditors in my company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break.
Shy. I am very glad of it: I’ll plague him; I’ll torture 100 him: I am glad of it.
Tub. One of them showed me a ring that he had of your daughter for a monkey.
Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor: 105 I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys.
Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone.
Shy. Nay, that’s true, that’s very true. Go, Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were he out of 110 Venice, I can make what merchandise I will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: The Merchant of Venice, III, 1.
6: gossip Report] Q2 Q3 Q4. gossips report Q1 Ff.
8: as lying a] as a lying Q1.
12: honest Antonio] honest Antho. F2 F3 F4.
19: my] thy Theobald (Warburton).
Enter Shylock.] Q1. In Q2 Ff Q3 Q4 after line 20.
21: knew] know Q1.
26: fledged] fledg’d Q1 Ff. flidge Q2 Q3 Q4. fledge Capell.
31: years] times Rowe (ed. 2).
32: blood] Q1 Ff. my blood Q2 Q3 Q4.
35: rhenish] Rowe. rennish Qq F1 F2. rhennish F3 F4.
36: any loss at sea] at losse a sea Q1.
37, 38: a prodigal] for a prodigal Warburton.
38: dare] dares Rowe (ed. 2).
39: was used] us’d Rowe (ed. 2). was wont Collier MS.
47: half] of half Warburton.
49: his reason] Qq. the reason Ff.
53: means] medicines Warburton conj.
54: winter and summer] summer and winter Hanmer.
59: humility? Revenge] Rowe. humility, revenge? Qq Ff.
60: by Christian] by a Christian F3 F4.
example? Why, revenge.] F4. example, why revenge? Qq F1. example? why revenge F2 F3.
62: Enter a Servant.] Enter a man from Anthonio. Qq Ff.
67: [Exeunt...] Exeunt Gentlemen. Qq Ff.
68: Genoa] Genowa Qq F1 F2 F3. Geneva F4.
77: would] O would Q1.
78: them? Why, so:] them, why so: Q1. them, why so? Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
79: what’s] whats Qq. how much is Ff.
thou] Qq F1. then F2 F3 F4. there! Lloyd conj.
82: lights on] Q1. lights a Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. lights o’ Rowe (ed. 2).
82, 83: but of] Q1. but a Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. but o’ Rowe (ed. 2).
85: heard in] heard, is in Q3 Q4.
Genoa] Genoway Q1. Genowa Q2 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. Genoua F4.
86: What, what, what?] What, what, Rowe.
88: Is’t, is’t] Q1. Is it, is it Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
91: thee] the Q1.
92: where] Rowe. heere Qq. here Ff.
93: in] Q1. om. Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
99: to] unto Q1.
that swear] that swear that Q1.
101: of it] on’t Q1.
108: Tubal] om. Pope.
111: I will. Go, go] Pope. I will go: go Q1. I will: goe Q3 F1. I will: go F2 Q3 Q4 F3 F4. ~~~~~
Act III, Scene II — Belmont. A room in PORTIA’S house
Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and Attendants.
Por. I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile. There’s something tells me, but it is not love, I would not lose you; and you know yourself, 5 Hate counsels not in such a quality. But lest you should not understand me well,— And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,— I would detain you here some month or two Before you venture for me. I could teach you 10 How to choose right, but I am then 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’er-look’d me, and divided me; 15 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, 20 Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. I speak too long; but ’tis to peize the time, To eke it and to draw it out in length, To stay you from election.
Bass. Let me choose; For as I am, I live upon the rack. 25
Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess What treason there is mingled with your love.
Bass. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love: There may as well be amity and life 30 ’Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love.
Por. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, Where men enforced do speak any thing.
Bass. Promise me life, and I’ll confess the truth.
Por. Well then, confess and live.
Bass. ‘Confess,’ and ‘love,’ 35 Had been the very sum of my confession: O happy torment, when my torturer Doth teach me answers for deliverance! But let me to my fortune and the caskets.
Por. Away, then! 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 45 May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream, And watery death-bed for him. He may win; And what is music then? Then music is Even as the flourish when true subjects bow To a new-crowned monarch: such it is 50 As are those dulcet sounds in break of day That creep into the dreaming bridegroom’s ear, And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, With no less presence, but with much more love, Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 55 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 much more dismay I view the fight than thou that makest the fray.
Music, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself.
SONG.
Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? 65 Reply, reply. It is engender’d in the eye, With gazing fed; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy’s knell; 70 I’ll begin it,—Ding, dong, bell. All. Ding, dong, bell.
Bass. So may the outward shows be least themselves: The world is still deceived with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 75 But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? 80 There is no vice so simple, but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts: How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; 85 Who, inward search’d, have livers white as milk; And these assume but valour’s excrement To render them redoubted! Look on beauty, And you shall see ’tis purchased by the weight; Which therein works a miracle in nature, 90 Making them lightest that wear most of it: So are those crisped snaky golden locks Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, Upon supposed fairness, often known To be the dowry of a second head, 95 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 100 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, 105 Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence; And here choose I: joy be the consequence!
Por. [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair, And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! 110 O love, be moderate; allay thy ecstasy; In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess! I feel too much thy blessing: make it less, For fear I surfeit!
Bass. What find I here? [Opening the leaden casket. Fair Portia’s counterfeit! What demi-god 115 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 120 The painter plays the spider, and hath woven A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, Faster than gnats in cobwebs: but her eyes,— How could he see to do them? having made one, Methinks it should have power to steal both his 125 And leave itself unfurnish’d. Yet look, how far The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow In underprizing it, so far this shadow Doth limp behind the substance. Here’s the scroll, The continent and summary of my fortune. 130
[Reads] You that choose not by the view, Chance as fair, and choose as true! Since this fortune falls to you, Be content and seek no new. If you be well pleased with this, 135 And hold your fortune for your bliss, Turn you where your lady is, And claim her with a loving kiss.
A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave; I come by note, to give and to receive. 140 Like one of two contending in a prize, That thinks he hath done well in people’s eyes, Hearing applause and universal shout, Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt Whether those peals of praise be his or no; 145 So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so; As doubtful whether what I see be true, Until confirm’d, sign’d, ratified by you.
Por. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, Such as I am: though for myself alone 150 I would not be ambitious in my wish, To wish myself much better; yet, for you I would be trebled twenty times myself; A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times More rich; 155 That only to stand high in your account, I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, Exceed account; but the full sum of me Is sum of something, which, to term in gross, Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractised; 160 Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn; happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn; Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, 165 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, 170 This house, these servants, and this same myself, Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring; Which when you part from, lose, or give away, Let it presage the ruin of your love, And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 175
Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins; And there is such confusion in my powers, As, after some oration fairly spoke By a beloved prince, there doth appear 180 Among the buzzing pleased multitude; Where every something, being blent together, Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, Express’d and not express’d. But when this ring Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence: 185 O, then be bold to say Bassanio’s dead!
Ner. My lord and lady, it is now our time, That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper, To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady!
Gra. My Lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 190 I wish you all the joy that you can wish; 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. 195
Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife.
Gra. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours: You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid; You loved, I loved for intermission. 200 No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. Your fortune stood upon the casket there, And so did mine too, as the matter falls; For wooing here until I sweat again, And swearing till my very roof was dry 205 With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, I got a promise of this fair one here To have her love, provided that your fortune Achieved her mistress.
Por. Is this true, Nerissa?
Ner. Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. 210
Bass. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith?
Gra. Yes, faith, my lord.
Bass. Our feast shall be much honour’d in your marriage.
Gra. We’ll play with them the first boy for a thousand 215 ducats.
Ner. What, and stake down?
Gra. No; we shall ne’er win at that sport, and stake down. But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? 220 What, and my old Venetian friend Salerio?
Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALERIO, _a Messenger from Venice_.
Bass. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; If that the youth of my new interest here Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, I bid my very friends and countrymen, 225 Sweet Portia, welcome.
Por. So do I, my lord: They are entirely welcome.
Lor. I thank your honour. For my part, my lord, My purpose was not to have seen you here; But meeting with Salerio by the way, 230 He did entreat me, past all saying nay, To come with him along.
Saler. I did, my lord; And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio Commends him to you. [Gives Bassanio a letter.
Bass. Ere I ope his letter, I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 235
Saler. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there Will show you his estate.
Gra. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome. Your hand, Salerio: what’s the news from Venice? 240 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.
Saler. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost.
Por. There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper, 245 That steals the colour from Bassanio’s cheek: Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world Could turn so much the constitution Of any constant man. What, worse and worse! With leave, Bassanio; I am half yourself, 250 And I must freely have the half of any thing That this same paper brings you.
Bass. O sweet Portia, Here are a few of the unpleasant’st words That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady, When I did first impart my love to you, 255 I freely told you, all the wealth I had Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman; And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady, Rating myself at nothing, you shall see How much I was a braggart. When I told you 260 My state was nothing, I should then have told you That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed, I have engaged myself to a dear friend, Engaged my friend to his mere enemy, To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady; 265 The paper as the body of my friend, And every word in it a gaping wound, Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? Have all his ventures fail’d? What, not one hit? From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 270 From Lisbon, Barbary, and India? And not one vessel scape the dreadful touch Of merchant-marring rocks?
Saler. Not one, my lord. Besides, it should appear, that if he had The present money to discharge the Jew, 275 He would not take it. Never did I know A creature, that did bear the shape of man, So keen and greedy to confound a man: He plies the Duke at morning and at night; And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 280 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. 285
Jes. When I was with him I have heard him swear To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, That he would rather have Antonio’s flesh Than twenty times the value of the sum That he did owe him: and I know, my lord, 290 If law, authority and power deny not, It will go hard with poor Antonio.
Por. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble?
Bass. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, The best-condition’d and unwearied spirit 295 In doing courtesies; and one in whom The ancient Roman honour more appears Than any that draws breath in Italy.
Por. What sum owes he the Jew?
Bass. For me three thousand ducats.
Por. What, no more? 300 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, 305 And then away to Venice to your friend; For never shall you lie by Portia’s side With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold To pay the petty debt twenty times over: When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 310 My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 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. 315 But let me hear the letter of your friend.
Bass. [reads] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but see you at my 320 death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter.
Por. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone!
Bass. Since I have your good leave to go away, I will make haste: but, till I come again, 325 No bed shall e’er be guilty of my stay, No rest be interposer ’twixt us twain. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: The Merchant of Venice, III, 2.
Act III, Scene II — Enter...] Enter B. P. G. and all their Traines. Qq. (traine. Ff.)
1: Por.] Por. [Aside to Bass. Anon. conj.
3: therefore] om. Pope.
11: I am then] Q1. then I am Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
16: half yours] half F2 F3 F4. yours Capell.
17: if] Qq. of F1. first F2 F3 F4.
18: O] Qq Ff. Alas Pope.
19: Put] F2 F3. Puts Qq F1 F4.
20: not yours] I’m not yours Johnson conj.
so] not so Capell.
21: it, not I] it, not me Hanmer. it. Not I Warburton. it—Not I Johnson.
22: peize] Qq Ff. poize Rowe (ed. 1). peece Rowe (ed. 2). piece Johnson. pause Collier MS.
23: eke] eck Q1. ech Q2. ich F1 F2 F3. eech Q3 Q4. itch F4.
eke it] eche it out Pope (ed. 2).
to draw] draw F2 F3 F4.
it out] out Q1.
30: life] league S. Walker conj.
33: do] doth F1.
44: Then] [Aside] Then Anon. conj.
46: proper] just Pope.
54: presence] prescience Becket conj.
61: thou] See note (VII).
much much] Q2 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. much Q1 F1 F4.
62: I] To Q1.
Music.] Here Music. Ff. om. Qq.
whilst...] the whilst. Qq Ff.
63: is] his Warburton.
66: Reply, reply] Reply Hanmer. See note (VIII).
67: eye] Qq. eyes Ff.
71: I’ll begin it] Printed in Roman letters in Qq Ff, the rest of the song being in italics.
81: vice] F2 F3 F4. voice Qq F1.
82: mark] om. Q1.
93: make] Pope. maketh Q1 Q2. makes Ff Q3 Q4.
97: guiled] Qq F1. guilded F2 F3 F4. gilded Rowe. guilty Warburton. guiling Becket conj.
99: Indian beauty;] Indian dowdy; Hanmer. Indian; beauty’s Harness (Theobald conj.). Indian gipsy; S. Walker conj. Indian: beauty, Collier MS. Indian favour; Lettsom conj. Indian Idol; Anon. ap. Halliwell conj. Indian visage or Indian feature; Spedding conj. Indian beldam Edd. conj.
100: times] tires or trims Theobald conj.
101: Therefore] Q1. Therefore then Q2 F1 Q3 Q4. Then Pope.
102: food] foole Q1.
103: pale] stale Farmer conj.
106: paleness] Qq Ff. plainness Theobald (Warburton).
108: [Aside] Edd.
110: shuddering] shyddring Qq.
green-eyed] green-hode Becket conj.
111: O...moderate] Be moderatee love Hanmer.
112: rein] reine Q3 Q4. range Q1. raine Q2 F1 F2. rain F3 F4. pour Lansdowne version.
114: surfeit] surfeit me Steevens conj. surfeit in’t or surfeit on’t Anon. conj.
What find I] What do I find Hanmer. Ha! what find I Capell.
[Opening...] om. Qq Ff.
117: whether] Ff Q3 Q4. whither Q1 Q2.
119: sugar] sugar’d Pope.
122: to entrap] t’ intrap Q1 Ff Q3 Q4. tyntrap Q2.
126: itself] himself Johnson conj. it’s self Jackson conj.
unfurnish’d] Qq Ff. unfinish’d Rowe. half-furnish’d Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
144: still...in a] gazing still in Pope.
145: peals] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. pearles Q1.
149: me] Qq. my Ff.
Bassanio] Bassiano F1 F2.
154: ten thousand] ten Lloyd conj.
155, 156: Printed as one line in Qq Ff.
156: only] om. F2 F3 F4.
159: sum of something,] summe of something: Q1 Q3 Q4. sume of something: Q2. sum of nothing: Ff. some of something, Warburton.
162: happier than] happier then Qq F1. happier then in F2 F3 F4. more happy then in Pope. and happier than Steevens. and happier in Lloyd conj.
this,] this, in that Capell.
164: is] in Collier (Collier MS.).
168: but now I] I but now Pope.
the lord] Qq Ff. the lady Rowe. lady Pope.
169: master] Qq Ff. mistress Rowe.
172: lord] lord’s Q2.
186: Bassanio’s] Ff Q3 Q4. Bassanio is Q1. Bassanios Q2.
197: have] gave F1.
200: loved for intermission.] F3 F4. loved: for intermission Theobald. lov’d for intermission, Q1 Q2 F1 F2 F3.
202: casket] Q2 Q3 Q4. caskets Q2 Ff.
204: here] heere Qq F1. heete F2. heat F3 F4. herd Rowe (ed. 1). her Rowe (ed. 2).
sweat] F3 F4. swet Qq F1 F2.
205: roof] roofe Q1. rough Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. tongue Collier MS.
210: is, so] Qq. is so, so Ff.
221, 222, 230: Salerio] Qq Ff. Salanio Rowe. See note (IX).
221: SCENE III. Pope.
Salerio...Venice.] Q1 Q2 Salerio. Ff. Salerio? from Venice. Q3 Q4. Salanio. Rowe. Salerino. Capell.
225: very] om. Q3 Q4.
232: I] Qq F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
234: [Gives...] Theobald.
238: [Opens the letter. Ff. [He opens the Letter. Q1. [Open the letter. Q2 Q3 Q4.
239, 245: yon] Q1. yond Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
244: I would] Qq Ff. Would Pope.
246: steals] Qq Ff. steal Pope.
Bassanio’s] Bassiano’s F1 F2.
251: I must freely] Qq F1. must freely F2 F3 F4. I must Pope.
265: Here is] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. Heer’s Q1.
266: as] is Pope.
269: Have] Rowe. Hath Qq Ff.
270: and] from Rowe.
272: scape] scaped Anon. conj.
295: condition’d and] condition’d: an Warburton.
unwearied] unwearied’st Hunter conj. most unwearied Lansdowne version.
303: this] his S. Walker conj.
304: Shall] Qq Ff. Should Capell.
through] Qq F1. through my F2 F3 F4. thorough Collier conj.
314, 315: Bid...dear] Put in the margin as spurious by Pope.
317: Bass. [reads] om. Qq Ff.
320: you and I] Qq Ff. you and me Pope.
I, if...death.] I. If...death:— C. Kemble conj.
but see] Qq. see Ff.
323: Por.] om. Q1.
327: No] Q1. Nor Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. ~~~~~
Act III, Scene III — Venice. A street.
Enter SHYLOCK, SALARINO, ANTONIO, and Gaoler.
Shy. Gaoler, look to him: tell not me of mercy; This is the fool that lent out money gratis: Gaoler, look to him.
Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock.
Shy. I’ll have my bond; speak not against my bond: I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 5 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. 10
Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak.
Shy. I’ll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak: I’ll have my bond; and therefore speak no more. I’ll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 15 To Christian intercessors. Follow not; I’ll have no speaking: I will have my bond. [Exit.
Salar. It is the most impenetrable cur That ever kept with men.
Ant. Let him alone: I’ll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 20 He seeks my life; his reason well I know: I oft deliver’d from his forfeitures Many that have at times made moan to me; Therefore he hates me.
Salar. I am sure the Duke Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 25
Ant. The Duke cannot deny the course of law: For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice, if it be denied, Will much impeach the justice of his state; Since that the trade and profit of the city 30 Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go: These griefs and losses have so bated me, That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh To-morrow to my bloody creditor. Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 35 To see me pay his debt, and then I care not! [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: The Merchant of Venice, III, 3.
Act III, Scene III — ] SCENE IV. Pope
Salarino] Q1. Salerio. Q2 Q3 Q4. Solanio. Ff.
1, 3: Gaoler] Johnson. Iaylor Qq F1 F2. Jaylor F3 F4. Goaler Rowe.
2: lent] Qq. lends Ff.
5: I have] I’ve Pope.
6: call’dst] call’st F3 F4.
11: pray thee] prethee Q1.
22: from] Q1 Q2 Ff. him Q3 Q4.
24, 25: I am sure...hold] Printed as prose in F2 F3 F4.
26: law:] law, Capell.
28: Venice,] Venice: Capell.
it] that Seymour conj.
29: Will] ’Twill Capell.
his] Q1. the Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
32: have] Q1 Q2 Ff. hath Q3 Q4. ~~~~~
Act III, Scene IV — Belmont. A room in PORTIA’S house
Enter PORTIA, NERISSA, LORENZO, JESSICA, and BALTHASAR.
Lor. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, You have a noble and a true conceit Of god-like amity; which appears most strongly In bearing thus the absence of your lord. But if you knew to whom you show this honour. 5 How true a gentleman you send relief, How dear a lover of my lord your husband, I know you would be prouder of the work Than customary bounty can enforce you.
Por. I never did repent for doing good, 10 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; 15 Which makes me think that this Antonio, Being the bosom lover of my lord, Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, How little is the cost I have bestow’d In purchasing the semblance of my soul 20 From out the state of hellish misery! 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 25 Until my lord’s return: for mine own part, I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow To live in prayer and contemplation, Only attended by Nerissa here, Until her husband and my lord’s return: 30 There is a monastery two miles off; And there will we abide. I do desire you Not to deny this imposition; The which my love and some necessity Now lays upon you.
Lor. Madam, with all my heart; 35 I shall obey you in all fair commands.
Por. My people do already know my mind, And will acknowledge you and Jessica In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. And so farewell, till we shall meet again. 40
Lor. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you!
Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart’s content.
Por. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased To wish it back on you: fare you well, Jessica. [Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo. Now, Balthasar, 45 As I have ever found thee honest-true, So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, And use thou all the endeavour of a man In speed to Padua: see thou render this Into my cousin’s hand, Doctor Bellario; 50 And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee, Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed Unto the tranect, to the common ferry Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee. 55
Balth. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [Exit.
Por. Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand That you yet know not of: we’ll see our husbands Before they think of us.
Ner. Shall they see us?
Por. They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit, 60 That they shall think we are accomplished With that we lack. I’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, 65 And speak between the change of man and boy With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps Into a manly stride, and speak of frays Like a fine bragging youth; and tell quaint lies, How honourable ladies sought my love, 70 Which I denying, they fell sick and died; I could not do withal: then I’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 75 Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, Which I will practise.
Ner. Why, shall we turn to men?
Por. Fie, what a question’s that, If thou wert near a lewd interpreter! 80 But come, I’ll tell thee all my whole device When I am in my coach, which stays for us At the park-gate; and therefore haste away, For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: The Merchant of Venice, III, 4.
Act III, Scene IV — ] SCENE V. Pope
...Balthasar.] Theobald. ...a man of Portia’s. Qq Ff.
1: your] you F2.
3: god-like] gold-like Q3 Q4.
most] om. Pope.
6: relief] relief to Rowe.
10: for] of Pope.
11: Nor] And Pope.
13: equal] Q1 Q3 Q4 F3 F4. egall Q2. egal F1 F2.
15: lineaments, of] lineaments of Warburton.
21: misery] Q1. cruelty Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
23. hear other things.] Theobald (Thirlby conj.). heere other things Qq F1 F2. here other things, F3 F4. here are other things. Rowe.
24: hands] hands, Qq Ff.
27: secret] sacred Collier MS.
32: will we] Q1. we will Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
35: lays] lay Hanmer.
you] Q1 Q2 Ff. me Q3 Q4.
40: And so farewell] Q1. So fare you well Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
43: pleased] ’pris’d Warburton.
44: fare you well] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. farewell Q1.
45, 46: Now...true] Printed as one line in Qq Ff: corrected by Pope.
46: honest-true] Dyce (S. Walker conj.).
49: Padua] Theobald. Mantua Qq Ff.
53: tranect] traject Rowe. crane, next Jackson conj.
54: words] word Q3 Q4.
55: thee] hee F2.
62: that] Qq Ff. what Rowe (ed. 2).
63: accoutred] apparreld Q1.
72: withal] with all Rowe (ed. 2.) See note (X).
75: I have] I’ve Pope.
81: my] my my Q2. ~~~~~
Act III, Scene V — The same. A garden.
Enter LAUNCELOT and JESSICA.
Laun. Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children: therefore, I promise ye, I fear you. I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter: therefore be of good cheer; for, truly, I think you are damned. There is but 5 one hope in it that can do you any good; and that is but a kind of bastard hope neither.
Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee?
Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you not, that you are not the Jew’s daughter. 10
Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed: so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me.
Laun. Truly then I fear you are damned both by father and mother: thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother: well, you are gone both ways. 15
Jes. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a Christian.
Laun. Truly, the more to blame he: we were Christians enow before; e’en as many as could well live, one by another. This making of Christians will raise the price of 20 hogs: if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money.
Enter LORENZO.
Jes. I’ll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here he comes.
Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, 25 if you thus get my wife into corners.
Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Launcelot and I are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a Jew’s daughter: and he says, you are no good member of the commonwealth; for, in 30 converting Jews to Christians, you raise the price of pork.
Lor. I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than you can the getting up of the negro’s belly: the Moor is with child by you, Launcelot.
Laun. It is much that the Moor should be more than 35 reason: but if she be less than an honest woman, she is indeed more than I took her for.
Lor. How every fool can play upon the word! I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence; and discourse grow commendable in none only but parrots. Go 40 in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.
Laun. That is done, sir; they have all stomachs.
Lor. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid them prepare dinner.
Laun. That is done too, sir; only ‘cover’ is the word. 45
Lor. Will you cover, then, sir?
Laun. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.
Lor. 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 50 thy fellows; bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.
Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern. 55
[Exit.
Lor. 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 60 Defy the matter. How cheer’st thou, Jessica? And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio’s wife?
Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet The Lord Bassanio live an upright life; 65 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 70 And on the wager lay two earthly women, And Portia one, there must be something else Pawn’d with the other; for the poor rude world Hath not her fellow.
Lor. Even such a husband Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 75
Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.
Lor. I will anon: first, let us go to dinner.
Jes. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.
Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk; Then, howsoe’er thou speak’st, ’mong other things 80 I shall digest it.
Jes. Well, I’ll set you forth. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: The Merchant of Venice, III, 5.
Act III, Scene V — ] SCENE VI. Pope
A garden.] Capell.
2: ye] Q1. you Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
3: I fear] I fear for Malone conj.
14: I shun] you shun Rowe.
I fall] you fall Rowe.
19: e’en] in Q2.
24: comes.] come? Q2.
34: is] ’s Q1.
36: less] more Capell conj.
43: Goodly] Good Pope. Good y^e Farmer conj. Goodly: Jackson conj. Good my Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
48: quarrelling with] quibbling:— what or quibbling without Jackson conj.
56: dear] clear Lloyd conj.
suited] sorted Jackson conj.
61: cheer’st] Ff Q3 Q4. cherst Q2. far’st Q1.
63: Bassanio’s] Bassiano’s F1 F2.
68, 69: mean it, then In] meane it, then In Q1. _meane it, it In_ Q2. meane it, it Is Ff. meane it, In Q3 Q4. _merit it, In_ Pope. moan, it is In Staunton conj.
74, 75: Q1 ends the lines at me...wife.
75: a wife] Ff Q3 Q4. wife Q1 Q2.
79: pray thee] prithee Q1.
80: howsoe’er] howsoere Q1. how so ere Q3 Q4. how so mere Q2. how som ere F1 F2. howsom ere F3. howsome’re F4.
’mong] ’mongst F4.
81: digest] Ff. disgest Qq.
[Exeunt] Ff Q3 Q4. [Exit Q1 Q2. ~~~~~
Act IV, Scene I — Venice. A court of justice.
Enter the DUKE, the Magnificoes, ANTONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO, SALERIO, and others.
Duke. What, is Antonio here?
Ant. Ready, so please your Grace.
Duke. I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch Uncapable of pity, void and empty 5 From any dram of mercy.
Ant. I have heard Your Grace hath ta’en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful means can carry me Out of his envy’s reach, I do oppose 10 My patience to his fury; and am arm’d To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, The very tyranny and rage of his.
Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
Saler. He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord. 15
Enter SHYLOCK.
Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, That thou but lead’st this fashion of thy malice To the last hour of act; and then ’tis thought Thou’lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange 20 Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; And where thou now exact’st the penalty, Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh, Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, But, touch’d with human gentleness and love, 25 Forgive a moiety of the principal; Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, That have of late so huddled on his back, Enow to press a royal merchant down, And pluck commiseration of his state 30 From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train’d To offices of tender courtesy. We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.
Shy. I have possess’d your Grace of what I purpose; 35 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 40 A weight of carrion-flesh than to receive Three thousand ducats: I’ll not answer that: But, say, it is my humour: is it answer’d? What if my house be troubled with a rat, And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats 45 To have it baned? What, are you answer’d yet? Some men there are love not a gaping pig; Some, that are mad if they behold a cat; And others, when the bagpipe sings i’ the nose, Cannot contain their urine: for affection, 50 Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer: As there is no firm reason to be render’d, Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; Why he, a harmless necessary cat; 55 Why he, a woollen bag-pipe; but of force Must yield to such inevitable shame As to offend, himself being offended; So can I give no reason, nor I will not, More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing 60 I bear Antonio, that I follow thus A losing suit against him. Are you answer’d?
Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answers. 65
Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love?
Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first.
Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?
Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew: 70 You may as well go stand upon the beach, And bid the main flood bate his usual height; You may as well use question with the wolf, Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; You may as well forbid the mountain pines 75 To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven; You may as well do any thing most hard, As seek to soften that—than which what’s harder?— His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you, 80 Make no more offers, use no farther means, But with all brief and plain conveniency Let me have judgement and the Jew his will.
Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 85 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?
Shy. What judgement shall I dread, doing no wrong? You have among you many a purchased slave, 90 Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, You use in abject and in slavish parts, Because you bought them: shall I say to you, Let them be free, marry them to your heirs? Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds 95 Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates Be season’d with such viands? You will answer ‘The slaves are ours:’ so do I answer you: The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, Is dearly bought; ’tis mine and I will have it. 100 If you deny me, fie upon your law! There is no force in the decrees of Venice. I stand for judgement: answer; shall I have it?
Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court, Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 105 Whom I have sent for to determine this, Come here to-day.
Saler. My lord, here stays without A messenger with letters from the doctor, New come from Padua.
Duke. Bring us the letters; call the messenger. 110
Bass. Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet! The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.
Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit 115 Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me: You cannot better be employ’d, Bassanio, Than to live still, and write mine epitaph.
Enter NERISSA, dressed like a lawyer’s clerk.
Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario?
Ner. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace. 120
[Presenting a letter.
Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.
Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can, No, not the hangman’s axe, bear half the keenness 125 Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
Shy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
Gra. O, be thou damn’d, inexecrable dog! And for thy life let justice be accused. Thou almost makest me waver in my faith, 130 To hold opinion with Pythagoras, That souls of animals infuse themselves Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit Govern’d a wolf, who, hang’d for human slaughter, Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 135 And, whilst thou lay’st in thy unhallow’d dam, Infused itself in thee; for thy desires Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.
Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, Thou but offend’st thy lungs to speak so loud: 140 Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.
Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend A young and learned doctor to our court. Where is he?
Ner. He attendeth here hard by, 145 To know your answer, whether you’ll admit him.
Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you Go give him courteous conduct to this place. Meantime the court shall hear Bellario’s letter.
Clerk. [reads] Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt 150 of your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthasar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o’er many books together: he is furnished with my opinion; which, bettered with his own learning,—the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, 156 —comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up your Grace’s request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, 160 whose trial shall better publish his commendation.
Duke. You hear the learn’d Bellario, what he writes: And here, I take it, is the doctor come.
Enter PORTIA for BALTHASAR.
Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario?
Por. I did, my lord.
Duke. You are welcome: take your place. 165 Are you acquainted with the difference That holds this present question in the court?
Por. I am informed throughly of the cause. Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?
Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 170
Por. Is your name Shylock?
Shy. Shylock is my name.
Por. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow; Yet in such rule that the Venetian law Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. You stand within his danger, do you not? 175
Ant. Ay, so he says.
Por. Do you confess the bond?
Ant. I do.
Por. Then must the Jew be merciful.
Shy. On what compulsion must I? tell me that.
Por. The quality of mercy is not strain’d, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 180 Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: ’Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 185 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; 190 And earthly power doth then show likest God’s When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; 195 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. 200
Shy. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
Por. Is he not able to discharge the money?
Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court; Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice, 205 I will be bound to pay it ten times o’er, On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: If this will not suffice, it must appear That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, Wrest once the law to your authority: 210 To do a great right, do a little wrong, And curb this cruel devil of his will.
Por. It must not be; there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established: ’Twill be recorded for a precedent, 215 And many an error, by the same example, Will rush into the state: it cannot be.
Shy. A Daniel come to judgement! yea, a Daniel! O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!
Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 220
Shy. Here ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.
Por. Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offer’d thee.
Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven: Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice.
Por. Why, this bond is forfeit; 225 And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant’s heart. Be merciful: Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.
Shy. When it is paid according to the tenour. 230 It doth appear you are a worthy judge; You know the law, your exposition Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law, Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, Proceed to judgement: by my soul I swear 235 There is no power in the tongue of man To alter me: I stay here on my bond.
Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court To give the judgement.
Por. Why then, thus it is: You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 240
Shy. O noble judge! O excellent young man!
Por. For the intent and purpose of the law Hath full relation to the penalty, Which here appeareth due upon the bond.
Shy. ’Tis very true: O wise and upright judge! 245 How much more elder art thou than thy looks!
Por. Therefore lay bare your bosom.
Shy. Ay, his breast: So says the bond:—doth it not, noble judge?— ‘Nearest his heart:’ those are the very words.
Por. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 250 The flesh?
Shy. I have them ready.
Por. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.
Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond?
Por. It is not so express’d: but what of that? 255 ’Twere good you do so much for charity.
Shy. I cannot find it; ’tis not in the bond.
Por. You, merchant, have you any thing to say?
Ant. But little: I am arm’d and well prepared. Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well! 260 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 265 An age of poverty; from which lingering penance Of such misery doth she cut me off. Commend me to your honourable wife: Tell her the process of Antonio’s end; Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death; 270 And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge Whether Bassanio had not once a love. Repent but 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, 275 I’ll pay it presently with all my heart.
Bass. Antonio, I am married to a wife Which is as dear to me as life itself; But life itself, my wife, and all the world, Are not with me esteem’d above thy life: 280 I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all Here to this devil, to deliver you.
Por. Your wife would give you little thanks for that, If she were by, to hear you make the offer.
Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love: 285 I would she were in heaven, so she could Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.
Ner. ’Tis well you offer it behind her back; The wish would make else an unquiet house.
Shy. These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter; 290 Would any of the stock of Barrabas Had been her husband rather than a Christian! [Aside. We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence.
Por. A pound of that same merchant’s flesh is thine: The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 295
Shy. Most rightful judge!
Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast: The law allows it, and the court awards it.
Shy. Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, prepare!
Por. Tarry a little; there is something else. 300 This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; The words expressly are ‘a pound of flesh:’ Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh; But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 305 Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate Unto the state of Venice.
Gra. O upright judge! Mark, Jew: O learned judge!
Shy. Is that the law?
Por. Thyself shalt see the act: For, as thou urgest justice, be assured 310 Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.
Gra. O learned judge! Mark, Jew: a learned judge!
Shy. I take this offer, then; pay the bond thrice, And let the Christian go.
Bass. Here is the money.
Por. Soft! 315 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 320 But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut’st more Or less than a just pound, be it but so much As makes it light or heavy in the substance, Or the division of the twentieth part Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 325 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 you on the hip.
Por. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture. 330
Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go.
Bass. I have it ready for thee; here it is.
Por. He hath refused it in the open court: He shall have merely justice and his bond.
Gra. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel! 335 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! 340 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 proved against an alien That by direct or indirect attempts 345 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 350 Of the Duke only, ’gainst all other voice. In which predicament, I say, thou stand’st; For it appears, by manifest proceeding, That indirectly, and directly too, Thou hast contrived against the very life 355 Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr’d The danger formerly by me rehearsed. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.
Gra. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself: And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 360 Thou hast not left the value of a cord; Therefore thou must be hang’d at the state’s charge.
Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits, I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it: For half thy wealth, it is Antonio’s; 365 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 370 That doth sustain my house; you take my life, When you do take the means whereby I live.
Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio?
Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else, for God’s sake.
Ant. So please my lord the Duke and all the court 375 To quit the fine for one half of his goods, I am content; so he will let me have The other half in use, to render it, Upon his death, unto the gentleman That lately stole his daughter: 380 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. 385
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; 390 I am not well: send the deed after me, And I will sign it.
Duke. Get thee gone, but do it.
Gra. In christening shalt thou have two godfathers: Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 395
[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. 400 Antonio, gratify this gentleman, For, in my mind, you are much bound to him.
[Exeunt Duke and his train.
Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof, 405 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; 410 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. 415
Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further: Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you, Not to deny me, and to pardon me.
Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 420 Give me your gloves, I’ll wear them for your sake; [To Ant. And, for your love, I’ll take this ring from you [To Bass.]: 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! 425 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, 430 And find it out by proclamation: Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.
Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: You taught me first to beg; and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answer’d. 435
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, 440 And know how well I have deserved the ring, She would not hold out enemy for ever, For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!
[Exeunt Portia and Nerissa.
Ant. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring: Let his deservings and my love withal 445 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; 450 And in the morning early will we both Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: The Merchant of Venice, IV, 1.
Act IV, Scene I — A court...] Capell. The Senate-House. Theobald
...Salerio, and others.] om. Qq Ff. Salanio, Salarino and others. Capell. om. Qq Ff. Enter... and Gratiano at the bar. Theobald.
3: I am] I’m Pope.
6: dram] dream Becket conj.
7, 8: As three lines ending paines...course:...obdurate, in Q1.
15: Saler.] Salerio. Q2 Q3 Q4. Sal. Q1 Ff. See note (IX).
22: And......penalty] omitted by Rowe.
exact’st] Ff. exacts Qq.
24: loose] lose F4.
25: human] humane Q1 Ff Q3 Q4. humaine Q2.
29: Enow] Enough Rowe.
30: his state] this states Q2.
31: flint] Q1 F2 Q3 Q4 F3 F4. flints Q2 F1.
36: Sabbath] Q1 Ff. Sabaoth Q2. Sabbaoth Q3 Q4.
42, 43: I’ll...it is] I’ll now answer that By saying ’tis Warburton.
43: But, say, it] Capell. But say it Qq Ff.
46: baned] baind Qq Ff. brain’d Rowe.
49: bagpipe] big-pipe Warburton.
50, 51: urine: for affection, Mistress of] Capell (Thirlby conj.). urine for affection. Masters of Qq Ff. (Maisters Q2 F2). ...affection. Masterless Rowe. ...affection, Master of Singer (Thirlby conj.). ...affections, Masters of Hawkins conj. urine for affection: Matters of Jackson conj. urine: for affection Masters our Malone conj. See note (XI).
sways] sway Warburton.
56: woollen] Qq F1 F2 F3. wollen F4. wooden Johnson and Heath conj. wawling Capell conj. swollen Steevens (Hawkins conj.). swelling Hawkins conj. mewling Becket conj. bollen Dyce (Collier MS.). See note (XII).
58: offend, himself] Q1. offend himself Q2 F1 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. offend himself, F4.
65: answers] Q2 Q3 Q4. answere Q1. answer Ff.
66: things] Qq F1. thing F2 F3 F4.
70: think you] think, you Warburton.
the] Qq F1 F2. a. F3 F4.
73: You may] Qq. Or even Ff.
74: Why he...bleat...lamb;] Q3 Q4. Why he...bleake...lambe Q1 Q2. The ewe bleate for the lambe: F1. The ewe bleate for the lambe: when you behold, F2 F3 F4. When you behold the ewe bleat for the lamb; Hanmer. See note (XIII).
75: pines] Ff. of pines Qq.
76: no noise] a noise Hanmer.
77: fretten] Qq. fretted Ff.
79: what’s harder?] what’s harder: Qq. what harder? Ff.
91: your asses] you asses F2.
92: parts] Qq F1. part F2 F3 F4.
93: you bought] your bought F2.
100: ’tis] Ff. tis Q1. as Q2 Q3 Q4. is Capell.
107: Saler.] Q1. Salerio Q2. Sal. FF Q3 Q4. Salan. Knight.
110: messenger] Qq. messengers Ff.
116: earliest] soonest Capell (corrected in MS.).
and] om. F2 F3 F4.
118: dressed...clerk.] Rowe. om. Qq Ff.
119: SCENE II. Pope.
120: From both, my lord.] From both, my L. Q1. _From both? my L._ Q2. From both: my L. Q3 Q4. From both. My Lord Ff.
[Presenting...] Capell.
122: forfeiture] forfeit Rowe (ed. 2).
123: sole...soul] soule...soule Qq. soale...soule F1 F2. soale...soul F3 F4.
124: but] for Pope.
127: hast] hoast F2.
128.: inexecrable] Qq F1 F2. inexorable F3 F4.
134: human] humane Q1 Ff Q3 Q4. humaine Q2.
136: lay’st] lay’dst Douce conj.
138: starved] starv’d Qq. sterv’d Ff.
142: cureless] Qq. endlesse Ff. careless Pope.
here] om. Q3 Q4.
144: to] Qq. in Ff.
150: Clerk. [reads] Capell. om. Qq Ff.
153: acquainted] acquained F1
cause] case F3 F4.
163: Enter...] Enter P. for Balthazer. Qq Ff, after line 161 (Balthazar F1 F2 Q3 Q4, Balthasar F3 F4). Enter P. dressed like a doctor of laws. Rowe.
164: Come] Qq Came Ff.
174: impugn] impunge Q1.
175: do you not] doe ye not Q1.
181: blest] blessing Seymour conj.
191: likest] lik’st Q1.
199: court] Qq. course Ff.
205: twice] thrice Ritson conj.
209: truth] ruth Theobald conj. (withdrawn). See note (XIV).
215: precedent] Qq. president Ff.
219: I do] Qq. do I Ff.
222, 229, 313: thrice] twice Spedding conj.
225: No, not] Not not Q2.
230: tenour] Q1. tenure Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
250, 251: It...flesh?] As one line in Qq Ff. Corrected by Capell.
Are there...flesh?] Are there scales and balance here To weigh the merchant’s flesh? Lloyd conj.
balance here] ballances here Rowe. scales Pope.
253: do] Qq. should Ff.
254: Is it so...bond?] Qq. It is not...bond? F1 F2 F3. It is not...bond. F4.
258: You, merchant] Qq. Come merchant Ff.
263: her custom] Qq F1. his custom F2 F3 F4.
267: such] sordid Lloyd conj. so much Edd. conj.
misery] Qq F1. a misery F2 F3 F4.
272: love] lover Collier MS.
273: but] Qq. not Ff.
276: presently] Q1 instantly Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
281: ay,] Pope. I Qq Ff. I’d Rowe.
285: whom] Ff. who Qq.
290: I have] I’ve Pope.
292: [Aside.] Rowe.
301: jot] iote Q1 Q2.
303: Take then] Qq. Then take Ff. See note (XV).
313: this] his Capell.
321: cut’st] Q1. tak’st Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
322: be it but] Qq. be it Ff. be ’t but Pope.
323: substance] balance Collier MS.
324: Or] On Theobald.
325: do] om. Pope.
329: you] Qq. thee Ff.
330: thy] Qq Ff. the Pope.
334: He] And Q1.
337: have barely] barely have Pope.
339: so taken] Qq. taken so Ff.
341: question] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. heere in question Q1.
344: an] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. any Q1.
348: one] Q2 Ff. on Q1 Q3 Q4.
349: coffer] coster Q1.
355: hast] had F2 F3 F4.
against] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. gainst Q1.
357: formerly] formally Warburton conj.
363: shalt] may’st Pope.
spirits] Q1. spirit Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
374: God’s sake] Godsake Q2.
376: quit] quite F2.
for] from Hanmer.
379: Upon] Until Hanmer.
his] my Johnson conj.
384: possess’d] possess’d of Capell conj.
393: Gra.] Shy. Q2.
shalt thou] Qq. thou shalt Ff.
395: not] Q1. not to Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
396: home with me] Qq. with me home Ff.
to dinner] dinner Q1.
397: do] om. Q1.
Grace of] Graces Q3 Q4.
403: SCENE III. Pope.
413: more] mere Anon. conj.
418: a fee] Q1 F2 F3 F4. fee Q2 F1 Q3 Q4.
421: [To Ant.] Edd.
422: [To Bass.] Edd.
429: depends on this than on] than this depends upon Q1.
430. will I] I will Q1.
441: the] Q1. this Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
442: enemy] enmity Rowe.
446: ’gainst] Qq. against Ff.
wife’s] Rowe. wives Qq Ff.
commandment] F4. commandement Q1 F1 F2 Q3 Q4 F3. commaundement Q2.
449: [Exit G.] [Exeunt G. Q1. ~~~~~
Act IV, Scene II — The same. A street.
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.
Por. Inquire the Jew’s house out, give him this deed And let him sign it: we’ll away to-night And be a day before our husbands home: This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.
Enter GRATIANO.
Gra. Fair sir, you are well o’erta’en: 5 My Lord Bassanio upon more advice Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat Your company at dinner.
Por. That cannot be: His ring I do accept most thankfully: And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore, 10 I pray you, show my youth old Shylock’s house.
Gra. That will I do.
Ner. Sir, I would speak with you. I’ll see if I can get my husband’s ring, [Aside to Portia. Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.
Por. [Aside to Ner.] Thou mayst, I warrant. We shall have old swearing 15 That they did give the rings away to men; But we’ll outface them, and outswear them too. [Aloud] Away! make haste: thou know’st where I will tarry.
Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?
[Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: The Merchant of Venice, IV, 2.
Act IV, Scene II — ] Capell. Pope continues SCENE III
A street.] Street before the Court. Capell.
Enter P. and N.] Ff. Enter N. Qq. Re-enter P. and N. Theobald.
9: His] This Q1. ~~~~~
Act V
Scene I. Belmont. Avenue to PORTIA’S house.
Enter LORENZO and JESSICA.
Lor. The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees And they did make no noise, in such a night Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls, And sigh’d his soul toward the Grecian tents, 5 Where Cressid lay that night.
Jes. In such a night Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew, And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself. And ran dismay’d away.
Lor. In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 10 Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love To come again to Carthage.
Jes. In such a night Medea gather’d the enchanted herbs That did renew old Æson.
Lor. In such a night Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew 15 And with an unthrift love did run from Venice As far as Belmont.
Jes. In such a night Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, Stealing her soul with many vows of faith And ne’er a true one.
Lor. In such a night 20 Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come; But, hark, I hear the footing of a man.
Enter STEPHANO.
Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night? 25
Steph. A friend.
Lor. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?
Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word My mistress will before the break of day Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about 30 By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays For happy wedlock hours.
Lor. Who comes with her?
Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid. I pray you, is my master yet return’d?
Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. 35 But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, And ceremoniously let us prepare Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
Enter LAUNCELOT.
Laun. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
Lor. Who calls? 40
Laun. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!
Lor. Leave hollaing, man: here.
Laun. Sola! where? where?
Lor. Here. 45
Laun. Tell him there’s a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news: my master will be here ere morning. [Exit.
Lor. Sweet soul, let’s in, and there expect their coming. And yet no matter: why should we go in? 50 My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, Within the house, your mistress is at hand; And bring your music forth into the air. [Exit Stephano. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 55 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 60 But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 65
Enter Musicians.
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn! With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear, And draw her home with music. [Music.
Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: 70 For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 75 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; 80 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 moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; 85 The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.
Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. How far that little candle throws his beams! 90 So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king, Until a king be by; and then his state 95 Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house.
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect: Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. 100
Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought 105 No better a musician than the wren. How many things by season season’d are To their right praise and true perfection! Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awaked. [Music ceases.
Lor. That is the voice, 110 Or I am much deceived, of Portia.
Por. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, By the bad voice.
Lor. Dear lady, welcome home.
Por. We have been praying for our husbands’ healths, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 115 Are they return’d?
Lor. Madam, they are not yet; But there is come a messenger before, To signify their coming.
Por. Go in, Nerissa; Give order to my servants that they take No note at all of our being absent hence; 120 Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. [A tucket sounds.
Lor. Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet: We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.
Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick; It looks a little paler: ’tis a day, 125 Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their followers.
Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walk in absence of the sun.
Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 130 And never be Bassanio so for me: But God sort all! 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. 135
Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of.
Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: It must appear in other ways than words, 140 Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
Gra. [To Nerissa] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong; In faith, I gave it to the judge’s clerk: Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. 145
Por. A quarrel, ho, already! what’s the matter?
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring That she did give me, whose posy was For all the world like cutler’s poetry Upon a knife, ‘Love me, and leave me not.’ 150
Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death, And that it should lie with you in your grave: Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, 155 You should have been respective, and have kept it. Gave it a judge’s clerk! no, God’s my judge, The clerk will ne’er wear hair on’s face that had it.
Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 160
Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, No higher than thyself, the judge’s clerk, A prating boy, that begg’d it as a fee: I could not for my heart deny it him. 165
Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, To part so slightly with your wife’s first gift; A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 170 Never to part with it; and here he stands; I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief: 175 An ’twere to me, I should be mad at it.
Bass. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it.
Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge that begg’d it and indeed 180 Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begg’d mine; And neither man nor master would take aught But the two rings.
Por. What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you received of me. 185
Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, I would deny it; but you see my finger Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.
Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. By heaven, I will ne’er come in your bed 190 Until I see the ring.
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, 195 And how unwillingly I left the ring, When nought would be accepted but the ring, You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring, Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 200 Or your own honour to contain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring. What man is there so much unreasonable, If you had pleased to have defended it With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 205 To urge the thing held as a ceremony? Nerissa teaches me what to believe: I’ll die for’t but some woman had the ring.
Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 210 Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, And begg’d the ring; the which I did deny him, And suffered him to go displeased away; Even he that did uphold the very life Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady; 215 I was enforced to send it after him; I was beset with shame and courtesy; My honour would not let ingratitude So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady; For, by these blessed candles of the night, 220 Had you been there, I think you would have begg’d The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.
Por. Let not that doctor e’er come near my house: Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, And that which you did swear to keep for me, 225 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: 230 If you do not, if I be left alone, Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own, I’ll have that doctor for my bedfellow.
Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advised How you do leave me to mine own protection. 235
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 notwithstanding.
Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; 240 And, in the hearing of these many friends, I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, Wherein I see myself,—
Por. Mark you but that! In both my eyes he doubly sees himself; In each eye, one: swear by your double self, 245 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, 250 Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord Will never more break faith advisedly.
Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, And bid him keep it better than the other. 255
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; 260 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 deserved it? 265
Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed: 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 270 Shall witness I set forth as soon as you, And even but now return’d; I have not yet Enter’d my house. Antonio, you are welcome; And I have better news in store for you Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; 275 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? 280
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. 285
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. 290 There do I give to you and Jessica, From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, After his death, of all he dies possess’d of.
Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people.
Por. It is almost morning, 295 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 300 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. 305 Well, while I live I’ll fear no other thing So sore as keeping safe Nerissa’s ring. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: The Merchant of Venice, V, 1.
Avenue......] Capell. A grove or green place before P’s. house. Theobald.
1: As two lines in Q1.
4: walls] Qq F1. wall F2 F3 F4.
6: Cressid] Theobald. Cressada Q1. Cressed Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. Cresseid Pope.
11: waft] Qq Ff. wav’d Theobald.
17: In] And in F2.
17, 18: In...Did young] In...did Young Malone.
20: In] And in F2.
20, 21: In...Did pretty] In...did Pretty Malone.
21: shrew] Q1. shrow Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
32: wedlock] wedlockes Q1.
34: is] it F1.
35: we have not] have we yet Rowe.
37: us] us us F1.
41, 42: Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo] Edd. M. Lorenzo, M. Lorenzo Q1. M. Lorenzo, & M. Lorenzo Q2 F1. M. Lorenzo, and M. Lorenza F2. M. Lorenzo, and M. Lorenzo Q3 Q4. M. Lorenzo, and Mrs. Lorenza F3 F4.
49: Lor. Sweet soul, let’s in] Malone. Lor. Sweet love, let’s in Rowe. sweete soule. Lor. Let’s in Qq F1. sweet love. Lor. Let’s in F2 F3 F4.
51: friend] good friend Capell.
Stephano] Q1 F2 F3 F4. Stephen Q2 F1 Q3 Q4.
I] Qq. om. Ff.
53: [Exit S.] Theobald.
59: patines] Malone. pattens Q2 F1 Q3 Q4. pattents Q1. patterns F2 F3 F4. patens Warburton.
62: cherubins] Qq F1 F2. cherubims F3 F4.
63: immortal souls] immortal sounds Theobald (Warburton). th’ immortal soul Johnson conj.
65: it in] Q2 Q3 Q4. in it Q1 Ff. us in it Rowe (ed. 1). us in Rowe (ed. 2).
Enter...] Enter Musick and domesticks of Portia. Capell.
66: with a hymn] with him a hymne Q1.
68: [Music.] Musicke playes Q1. Play Musique. Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
75: but hear perchance] Q2 Ff Q3 Q4. perchance but hear Q1.
79: therefore] thus Pope.
80: trees] Qq F1. tears F2 F3 F4.
82: the] om. F1.
87: Erebus] F2 F3 F4. Terebus Q1 Q2. Erobus F1. Tenebris Q3 Q4.
92: candle.] Q1 Q3 Q4 F4. candle? Q2 F1 F2 F3.
98: your...the] Qq Ff. the...your Rowe.
101: that] the Rowe (ed. 2).
106: wren] renne? Q2.
109: ho!] hoa! Malone. how Qq Ff. now Collier MS.
110: [Music ceases.] Ff. om. Qq.
[Rising. Capell.
112, 113: So in Q2 Q3 Q4. As two lines ending knows...voice in Q1; as prose in Ff.
114: husbands’ healths] Pope. husband health Q1. husbands welfare Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
121: [A tucket sounds.] Ff. om. Qq.
122: his] a Rowe.
131: for] Qq F1. from F2 F3 F4.
132: You are] y’are Q1.
148: me] to me Steevens conj.
148, 151: posy] poesie Q1 Ff. posie Q2 Q3 Q4.
152: it] om. Q2.
153: your] Qq. the Ff.
157: no...judge] Qq. but well I know Ff.
158: on’s] Qq Ff. on his Capell.
160: Ay] I Qq F1. If F2 F3 F4.
162, 261: scrubbed] stubbed Warton conj.
166: to] Q2 F1 Q3 Q4 F4. too Q1 F1 F2 F3.
169: so riveted] riveted Pope. riveted so Capell.
175: a] om. S. Walker conj.
177: [Aside] Theobald.
189: Even] Qq F1. And even F2 F3 F4.
201: contain] retain Pope.
209: my honour] Qq. mine honour Ff.
211: Which] Who Pope.
213: displeased away] away displeased Q1.
214: did uphold] Q1. had held up Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
220: For] Qq. And Ff.
222: the] thee F2 F3.
230: Argus] F2 Q3 Q4 F3. Argos Q1 Q2 F1 F4.
233: that] Qq. the Ff.
my] mine Q2.
239: Printed as two lines, Sir... You are... in Ff.
244: my] Q1 Q2 F1. mine F2 Q3 Q4 F3 F4.
249: his] Qq. thy Ff.
wealth] health Becket conj.
250: husband’s] husband Q1.
258: me] om. Ff.
262: this] thee Grant White.
264: where] when Singer (Collier MS.).
272: even but] Qq. but ev’n Ff.
288: road] Rode Qq F1. Rodes F2. Rhodes F3 F4.
297: Let us] Let’s Q1.
298: upon] on Rowe.
inter’gatories] intergotories Q1 Q2. intergatories F1 F2 Q3 Q4. interrogatories F3 F4.
300: inter’gatory] intergotory Q1 Q2. intergatory F1 F2 Q3 Q4. interrogatory F3 F4.
303: bed now,] Q1 Q3 Q4. bed now Q2. bed, now Ff.
305: That] Q1. Till Q2 Ff Q3 Q4.
doctor’s] om. Q1. ~~~~~
NOTES.
NOTE I.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. ‘The Actors Names’ were first given in the third Quarto, and repeated in Q4. A new list was given by Rowe. The spelling of the name Salanio varies between ‘Salanio’ and ‘Solanio;’ that of Salarino between ‘Salerino,’ ‘Saleryno,’ ‘Salirino,’ ‘Salino’ and ‘Solarino.’ The preponderance of authority seems to favour the spelling given in our text, and we have not thought it worth while to mention each variation as it occurs. Antonio is spelt throughout ‘Anthonio,’ Balthasar ‘Balthazar’ or ‘Balthazer,’ and Launcelot ‘Launcelet,’ in the old editions. See note (IX).
NOTE II.
I. 3. 129. A breed for barren metal. Pope says in a note: ‘The old editions (two of ’em) have it, A bribe of barren metal.’ This reading is not found in any copy that we have seen of Quarto or Folio, or of either edition of Rowe.
NOTE III.
II. 2. 52. Mr Knight remarks ‘this sentence is usually put interrogatively, contrary to the punctuation of all the old copies, which is not to be so utterly despised as the modern editors would pretend.’ Mr Grant White follows Mr Knight, and has a long note justifying the punctuation. Mr Dyce’s remark that the sentence is a repetition of the preceding interrogation, at line 42, seems conclusive as to the sense. Nothing is more frequent than the omission of the note of interrogation in the older editions, apparently from a paucity of types.
NOTE IV.
II. 7. 77. The Folios have ‘Flo. Cornets’ at the beginning of the next scene after ‘Enter Salarino and Solanio.’ Rowe, Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, Warburton, and Johnson (ed. 1765) omitted all notice of this stage direction. Capell transferred it to the beginning of Scene 7. Mr Dyce added ‘Cornets’ at the end of the scene also. We have adopted the suggestion, as the Prince’s leaving the stage would naturally be accompanied with the same pomp as his entrance.
NOTE V.
II. 8. 42. In the copy of Capell’s edition which he gave to Trinity College Library, he has put a comma after ‘mind’ in red ink. Johnson marked the passage with an asterisk as probably corrupt.
NOTE VI.
II., 9. 68. Mr Staunton in a note to The Taming of the Shrew, Act I. Sc. 1, mentions, on Sir F. Madden’s authority, that ‘I wis’ is undoubtedly derived from the Saxon adverb ‘gewis,’ but in the thirteenth century ‘ge’ was changed to ‘y’ or ‘i,’ and in the latter end of the fifteenth it was probably held to be equivalent to the German ‘Ich weiss.’ There can be no doubt that Shakespeare spelt it ‘I wis’ and used it as two words, pronoun and verb.
NOTE VII.
III. 2. 61. Mr Halliwell says that Roberts’s Quarto reads then for thou. It is not so in our copy.
NOTE VIII.
III. 2. 66. Johnson follows Hanmer in reading ‘Reply’ as a stage direction. It is true that the words ‘Reply, reply’ stand in the margin of the old copies, but they are printed like the song in italics, and seem to be required as part of it by the rhythm and (if we read eye with the Quartos) by the rhyme also. Capell prefixes 1 v. to ‘Tell me, &c.’ and 2 v. to ‘It is engender’d...’ He says that “the words ‘reply, reply’ show it to be a song in two parts or by two voices, followed by a chorus of divers assistant voices which ‘all’ indicates.”
NOTE IX.
III. 2. 221. We have retained here and throughout the scene the name ‘Salerio,’ which is so spelt consistently in all the old copies. Rowe altered it to ‘Salanio;’ and if the punctuation means anything, the editor of the third Quarto seems to have doubted about the name.
Capell, not Steevens as Mr Dyce says, restored ‘Salerio’ in the text, supposing Shakespeare to have used it as an abridgement of ‘Salerino,’ which he put in the stage direction. Mr Dyce thinks with Mr Knight that it is altogether unlikely that Shakespeare would, without necessity and in violation of dramatic propriety, introduce a new character, ‘Salerio,’ in addition to Salanio and Salerino. Tried by this standard Shakespeare’s violations of dramatic propriety are frequent indeed, and it is no part of an Editor’s duty to correct them.
In the next scene Q2 Q3 Q4 have ‘Salerio,’ altered in the Folios to ‘Solanio;’ for clearly it cannot be the same person as the messenger to Belmont; and in IV. 1. 15 the same Quartos make ‘Salerio’ the speaker, while Q1 and the Folios have merely ‘Sal.’
NOTE X.
III. 4. 72. I could not do withal. In Florio’s Giardino di Ricreatione, p. 9, ed. 1591, the Italian ‘Io non saprei farci altro’ is rendered into English ‘I cannot doo with all;’ and the phrase occurs several times in the same book, meaning always ‘I cannot help it.’
NOTE XI.
IV. 1. 50. Mr Knight attributes the reading ‘Mistress of...’ to Steevens from the conjecture of Waldron. It was really first adopted by Capell from the conjecture of ‘the ingenious Dr Thirlby.’
Mr Staunton says that in line 51 F1, omits ‘it;’ but this is not the case in our copy.
NOTE XII.
IV. 1. 56. We have retained the reading ‘woollen’ as it gives a meaning not altogether absurd. In an illuminated copy of an Office de la Vierge in the library of Trinity College there is a representation of a bagpipe which appears to be of sheepskin with the wool on. We incline however to think that Capell’s conjecture ‘wawling’ approaches nearest to the truth.
NOTE XIII.
IV. 1. 74. In the Duke of Devonshire’s copy of Heyes’s Quarto (our Q2) the passage runs thus:
‘well use question with the Woolfe, the Ewe bleake for the Lambe.’
Lord Ellesmere’s copy agrees with Capell’s literatim, and reads, not ‘bleat,’ as Mr Collier says, but ‘bleake.’
Mr Halliwell says that line 74, Why...lamb, is omitted in one copy of Heyes’s Quarto which he has seen, but that it is found in three other copies.
NOTE XIV.
IV. 1. 209. Warburton has claimed this conjecture in a MS. note to our edition of Theobald, but he did not adopt it in his own text.
NOTE XV.
IV. 1. 303. Mr Knight incorrectly says that this line is first found in the Folio of 1623. It is in all the quartos.
AS YOU LIKE IT.
Dramatis Personæ
DUKE, living in banishment. FREDERICK, his brother, and usurper of his dominions. AMIENS, lord attending on the banished Duke. JAQUES, ” ” ” LE BEAU[2], a courtier attending upon Frederick. CHARLES, wrestler to Frederick. OLIVER, son of Sir Rowland de Boys. JAQUES, ” ” ” ORLANDO, ” ” ” ADAM, servant to Oliver. DENNIS, ” ” TOUCHSTONE, a clown. SIR OLIVER MARTEXT, a vicar. CORIN, shepherd. SILVIUS, ” WILLIAM, a country fellow, in love with Audrey[3]. A person representing Hymen.
ROSALIND, daughter to the banished Duke. CELIA, daughter to Frederick. PHEBE, a shepherdess. AUDREY, a country wench.
Lords, pages, and attendants, &c.
SCENE—Oliver’s house; Duke Frederick’s court; and the Forest of Arden.
~~~~~ Footnotes:
1: DRAMATIS PERSONÆ] First given by Rowe.
2: LE BEAU] LE BEU. Rowe. See note (I).
3: WILLIAM] ‘Clown in love with Audrey,’ and ‘William, another clown in love with Audrey.’ Rowe (ed. 2). ~~~~~
AS YOU LIKE IT.
Act I, Scene I — Orchard of OLIVER’S house
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM.
Orl. As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report speaks goldenly of his profit: 5 for my part, he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses are bred better; for, besides that they are fair with their feeding, they are 10 taught their manage, and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the which his animals on his dunghills are as much bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave me his countenance 15 seems to take from me: he lets me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I think is within me, begins to mutiny against this 20 servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.
Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.
Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will shake me up. 25
Enter OLIVER.
Oli. Now, sir! what make you here?
Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
Oli. What mar you then, sir?
Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. 30
Oli. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.
Orl. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should come to such penury? 35
Oli. Know you where you are, sir?
Orl. O, sir, very well: here in your orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, sir?
Orl. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition 40 of blood, you should so know me. The courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before 45 me is nearer to his reverence.
Oli. What, boy!
Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.
Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? 50
Orl. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so: thou 55 hast railed on thyself.
Adam. Sweet masters, be patient: for your father’s remembrance, be at accord.
Oli. Let me go, I say.
Orl. I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My 60 father charged you in his will to give me good education: you have trained me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, 65 or give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes.
Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled with you; you shall have some part of your will: I pray you, leave me. 70
Orl. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good.
Oli. Get you with him, you old dog.
Adam. Is ‘old dog’ my reward? Most true, I have lost my teeth in your service. God be with my old master! he 75 would not have spoke such a word. [Exeunt Orlando and Adam.
Oli. Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand crowns neither. Holla, Dennis!
Enter DENNIS.
Den. Calls your worship? 80
Oli. Was not Charles, the Duke’s wrestler, here to speak with me?
Den. So please you, he is here at the door and importunes access to you.
Oli. Call him in. [Exit Dennis.] ’Twill be a good way; 85 and to-morrow the wrestling is.
Enter CHARLES.
Cha. Good morrow to your worship.
Oli. Good Monsieur Charles, what’s the new news at the new court?
Cha. There’s no news at the court, sir, but the old 90 news: that is, the old Duke is banished by his younger brother the new Duke; and three or four loving lords have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, whose lands and revenues enrich the new Duke; therefore he gives them good leave to wander. 95
Oli. Can you tell if Rosalind, the Duke’s daughter, be banished with her father?
Cha. O, no; for the Duke’s daughter, her cousin, so loves her, being ever from their cradles bred together, that she would have followed her exile, or have died to stay behind 100 her. She is at the court, and no less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and never two ladies loved as they do.
Oli. Where will the old Duke live?
Cha. They say he is already in the forest of Arden, 105 and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England: they say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world.
Oli. What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new Duke? 110
Cha. Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand that your younger brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to come in disguised against me to try a fall. To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that escapes me without some broken 115 limb shall acquit him well. Your brother is but young and tender; and, for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you withal; that either you might stay him from his intendment, or brook 120 such disgrace well as he shall run into; in that it is a thing of his own search, and altogether against my will.
Oli. Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had myself notice of my brother’s purpose herein, and have by underhand means 125 laboured to dissuade him from it, but he is resolute. I’ll tell thee, Charles:—it is the stubbornest young fellow of France; full of ambition, an envious emulator of every man’s good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against me his natural brother: therefore use thy discretion; I had as lief 130 thou didst break his neck as his finger. And thou wert best look to’t; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise against thee by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous device, and never leave thee till he hath ta’en thy life by 135 some indirect means or other; for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak it, there is not one so young and so villanous this day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, and thou must look pale and wonder. 140
Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come to-morrow, I’ll give him his payment: if ever he go alone again, I’ll never wrestle for prize more: and so, God keep your worship!
Oli. Farewell, good Charles. [Exit Charles.] Now will 145 I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he’s gentle; never schooled, and yet learned; full of noble device; of all sorts enchantingly beloved; and indeed so much in the heart of the world, and especially of my own 150 people, who best know him, that I am altogether misprised: but it shall not be so long; this wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that I kindle the boy thither; which now I’ll go about. [Exit.
~~~~~ Linenotes: As You Like It, I, 1.
1: fashion] Ff. my father Hanmer (Warburton). fashion; my father Heath conj. fashion. He Malone (Blackstone conj.). fashion he Ritson conj.
2: me by] me. By Johnson.
poor a] F1. a poor F2 F3 F4.
3: charged my brother] my brother charged Seymour conj.
7: stays] Ff. stys Warburton.
10: fair] fat Anon. conj.
15, 16: countenance] discountenance Warburton.
23: SCENE II. Pope.
25: Enter...] Ff (after line 23).
26: here] F3 F4. heere F1. heare F2.
31: be naught] do aught Hanmer. be wrought Jackson conj.
34: prodigal] prodigal’s Seymour conj.
39: him] he Pope.
46: reverence] revenues Anon MS. conj. revenue Hanmer (Warburton). See note (II).
52: Boys] F1. Boyes F2 F3 F4.
57: masters] F1. master F2 F3 F4.
63: from me Ff. me from Pope.
77: SCENE III. Pope.
grow] growl Anon. ap. Collier conj.
81: wrestler] wrastler F1 F3 F4. wrastle F2.
85: [Exit...] Johnson.
88: Monsieur] morrow, Monsieur S. Walker conj. morrow, Anon. conj.
96: Duke’s] old Duke’s Hanmer.
98: Duke’s] new Duke’s Hanmer.
100: she] F3 F4. he F1 F2.
101: her] F1 F2. their F3 F4.
111: came] come F4.
139: anatomize] F3 F4. anatomise F1 F2.
145: Oli.] om. F1.
[Exit C.] Exit. Rowe (after line 144). om. Ff.
147: he] him Seymour conj. ~~~~~
Act I, Scene II — Lawn before the DUKE’S palace
Enter ROSALIND and CELIA.
Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry.
Ros. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could teach me to forget a banished father, you must not learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. 5
Cel. Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, had banished thy uncle, the Duke my father, so thou hadst been still with me, I could have taught my love to take thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, if the truth of thy 10 love to me were so righteously tempered as mine is to thee.
Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to rejoice in yours.
Cel. You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is like to have: and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt 15 be his heir; for what he hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee again in affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. 20
Ros. From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let me see; what think you of falling in love?
Cel. Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport neither, than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst in 25 honour come off again.
Ros. What shall be our sport, then?
Cel. Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. 30
Ros. I would we could do so; for her benefits are mightily misplaced; and the bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women.
Cel. ’Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest; and those that she makes honest she makes 35 very ill-favouredly.
Ros. Nay, now thou goest from Fortune’s office to Nature’s: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature.
Enter TOUCHSTONE.
Cel. No? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may 40 she not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument?
Ros. Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when Fortune makes Nature’s natural the cutter-off of 45 Nature’s wit.
Cel. Peradventure this is not Fortune’s work neither, but Nature’s; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull to reason of such goddesses, and hath sent this natural for our whetstone; for always the dulness of the fool is the whetstone 50 of the wits. How now, wit! whither wander you?
Touch. Mistress, you must come away to your father.
Cel. Were you made the messenger?
Touch. No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you. 55
Ros. Where learned you that oath, fool?
Touch. Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they were good pancakes, and swore by his honour the mustard was naught: now I’ll stand to it, the pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and yet was not 60 the knight forsworn.
Cel. How prove you that, in the great heap of your knowledge?
Ros. Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom.
Touch. Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, 65 and swear by your beards that I am a knave.
Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art.
Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no more was this knight, swearing by his honour, for he never 70 had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard.
Cel. Prithee, who is’t that thou meanest?
Touch. One that old Frederick, your father, loves.
Cel. My father’s love is enough to honour him: enough! 75 speak no more of him; you’ll be whipped for taxation one of these days.
Touch. The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.
Cel. By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little 80 wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.
Ros. With his mouth full of news.
Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. 85
Ros. Then shall we be news-crammed.
Cel. All the better; we shall be the more marketable.
Enter LE BEAU.
Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what’s the news?
Le Beau. Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.
Cel. Sport! of what colour? 90
Le Beau. What colour, madam! how shall I answer you?
Ros. As wit and fortune will.
Touch. Or as the Destinies decrees.
Cel. Well said: that was laid on with a trowel.
Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank,— 95
Ros. Thou losest thy old smell.
Le Beau. You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good wrestling, which you have lost the sight of.
Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wrestling.
Le Beau. I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please 100 your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming to perform it.
Cel. Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried.
Le Beau. There comes an old man and his three sons,—
Cel. I could match this beginning with an old tale. 105
Le Beau. Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence.
Ros. With bills on their necks, ‘Be it known unto all men by these presents.’
Le Beau. The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, 110 the Duke’s wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him, and broke three of his ribs, that there is little hope of life in him: so he served the second, and so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, their father, making such pitiful dole over them that all the beholders take his part with 115 weeping.
Ros. Alas!
Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies have lost?
Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 120
Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the first time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport for ladies.
Cel. Or I, I promise thee.
Ros. But is there any else longs to see this broken music 125 in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin?
Le Beau. You must, if you stay here; for here is the place appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to perform it. 130
Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it.
Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO, CHARLES, and Attendants.
Duke F. Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his own peril on his forwardness.
Ros. Is yonder the man? 135
Le Beau. Even he, madam.
Cel. Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully.
Duke F. How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept hither to see the wrestling?
Ros. Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. 140
Duke F. You will take little delight in it, I can tell you, there is such odds in the man. In pity of the challenger’s youth I would fain dissuade him, but he will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if you can move him.
Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. 145
Duke F. Do so: I’ll not be by.
Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the princess calls for you.
Orl. I attend them with all respect and duty.
Ros. Young man, have you challenged Charles the 150 wrestler?
Orl. No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I come but in, as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.
Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your 155 years. You have seen cruel proof of this man’s strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes, or knew yourself with your judgement, the fear of your adventure would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace your own safety, and give over this attempt. 160
Ros. Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore be misprised: we will make it our suit to the Duke that the wrestling might not go forward.
Orl. I beseech you, punish me not with your hard thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny so 165 fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me, the world 170 no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.
Ros. The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. 175
Cel. And mine, to eke out hers.
Ros. Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you!
Cel. Your heart’s desires be with you!
Cha. Come, where is this young gallant that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? 180
Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working.
Duke F. You shall try but one fall.
Cha. No, I warrant your Grace, you shall not entreat him to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him from 185 a first.
Orl. You mean to mock me after; you should not have mocked me before: but come your ways.
Ros. Now Hercules be thy speed, young man!
Cel. I would I were invisible, to catch the strong fellow 190 by the leg. [They wrestle.
Ros. O excellent young man!
Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who should down. [Shout. Charles is thrown.
Duke F. No more, no more. 195
Orl. Yes, I beseech your Grace: I am not yet well breathed.
Duke F. How dost thou, Charles?
Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord.
Duke F. Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? 200
Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Duke F. I would thou hadst been son to some man else: The world esteem’d thy father honourable, But I did find him still mine enemy: 205 Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed, Hadst thou descended from another house. But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth: I would thou hadst told me of another father.
[Exeunt Duke Fred., train, and Le Beau.
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do this? 210
Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rowland’s son, His youngest son; and would not change that calling, To be adopted heir to Frederick.
Ros. My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, And all the world was of my father’s mind: 215 Had I before known this young man his son, I should have given him tears unto entreaties, Ere he should thus have ventured.
Cel. Gentle cousin, Let us go thank him and encourage him: My father’s rough and envious disposition 220 Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved: If you do keep your promises in love But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, Your mistress shall be happy.
Ros. Gentleman, [Giving him a chain from her neck. Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, 225 That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. Shall we go, coz?
Cel. Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman.
Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. 230
Ros. He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes; I’ll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir? Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown More than your enemies.
Cel. Will you go, coz?
Ros. Have with you. Fare you well. 235
[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia.
Orl. What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! Or Charles or something weaker masters thee.
Re-enter LE BEAU.
Le Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you 240 To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved High commendation, true applause, and love, Yet such is now the Duke’s condition, That he misconstrues all that you have done. The Duke is humorous: what he is, indeed, 245 More suits you to conceive than I to speak of.
Orl. I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this; Which of the two was daughter of the Duke, That here was at the wrestling?
Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; 250 But yet, indeed, the taller is his daughter: The other is daughter to the banish’d Duke, And here detain’d by her usurping uncle, To keep his daughter company; whose loves Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. 255 But I can tell you that of late this Duke Hath ta’en displeasure ’gainst his gentle niece, Grounded upon no other argument But that the people praise her for her virtues, And pity her for her good father’s sake; 260 And, on my life, his malice ’gainst the lady Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well: Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.
Orl. I rest much bounden to you: fare you well. 265 [Exit Le Beau. Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; From tyrant Duke unto a tyrant brother: But heavenly Rosalind! [Exit.
~~~~~ Linenotes: As You Like It, I, 2.
Act I, Scene II — ] SCENE IV. Pope
Lawn...] Capell. Open walk Theobald.
3: I were] Rowe (ed. 2). were Ff.
14: I] me Hanmer.
36: ill-favouredly] ill-favoured Rowe (ed. 2).
40: No?] Hanmer. No; Ff.
43: the] F1 F2. this F3 F4.
44: there is Fortune] F1 F2. Fortune is there F3 F4.
48: perceiveth] F1. perceiving F2 F3 F4.
49: and hath] Malone. hath Ff.
51: the wits] his wits Reed. the wise Spedding conj.
wit] om. Rowe.
whither] F2. whether F1 F3 F4.
64: your] you F2.
73: is’t that] F1 F2 F3. is that F4.
74: One that old Frederick] One old Frederick that Collier conj.
Frederick] Ferdinand Capell conj. See note (III).
75: Cel.] Theobald. Ros. Ff.
him: enough!] Hanmer. him enough; Ff.
79: wise men] F3 F4. wisemen F1 F2. See note (III).
83: Le Beau] the Beu F1. Le Beu F2 F3 F4.
84: SCENE V. Pope.
87: Enter Le Beau] F1. Enter Le Beu. F2 F3 F4 (after line 83).
88: Bon] Boon Ff.
what’s the] F1. what the F2. what F3 F4.
89: good] om. F3 F4.
90: Sport!] Spot? Collier (Collier MS.).
93: decrees] Ff. decree Pope.
106–108: Le Beau. Three...presence. Ros. With...presents.] Ff. Le Beau. Three...presence. Ros. With...necks. Clo. Be it...presents. Warburton. Le Beau. Three...necks. Ros. Be it...presents. Dyce (Farmer conj.).
122: breaking] of breaking F4.
125–127: Ros. But......cousin?] Touch. But...rib-breaking? Ros. Shall...cousin? Anon. conj.
125: see] set Theobald (Warburton). feel Johnson conj. get Heath conj. seek Jackson conj.
129: for the] F1. for F2 F3 F4.
132: ...Frederick...] Rowe.
133: SCENE VI. Pope.
142: in] on Anon. conj.
man] Ff. men Hanmer.
145: Cel.] Cel. and Ros. Lettsom conj.
147: princess calls] F4. Princesse cals F1. Princesse calls F2 F3. princesses call Theobald. princess’ call Dyce (S. Walker conj.). See note (IV).
149: them] her Rowe.
153: but in] F1. but F2 F3 F4. but e’en Edd. conj.
157, 158: your eyes...your judgement,] our eyes...our judgement Hanmer (Warburton).
165: thoughts; wherein] thoughts. Herein Mason conj. thoughts. Therein Johnson conj. thoughts; Spedding conj.
guilty,] guilty, is Jackson conj.
174: that] om. Rowe.
181: in it] it in Boswell.
187: You] An you Theobald conj. If you Mason conj. See note (V).
188: me] om. F3 F4.
191: [They wrestle] F3 F4. [Wrastle. F1 F2.
194: [Shout. Charles is thrown.] Rowe. [Shout. Ff.
209: [Exeunt...] Capell. [Exit Duke. Ff.
210: SCENE VII. Pope.
223: as you have exceeded all] as you’ve here exceeded Hanmer. as you have exceeded Capell. as you have excell’d all S. Walker conj.
promise] F1. in promise F2 F3 F4.
224: [Giving...] Theobald.
225: out of suits with fortune] out of fortune’s suite Becket conj. out of sorts with fortune Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
226: could] would Becket conj.
means] meane F2.
230: lifeless] Rowe (ed. 2). liveless Ff.
236: [Exeunt...] Exit. Ff.
239: Re-enter...] Enter Le Beu. Ff (after line 237).
244: misconstrues] misconsters Ff.
246: I] me Rowe.
249: was] were Hanmer.
251: taller] Ff. shorter Rowe (ed. 2). smaller Malone. lower Staunton. lesser Spedding conj.
252: other is] Ff. other’s Pope.
259: her virtues] virtues F2.
265: [Exit...] om. Ff. ~~~~~
Act I, Scene III — A room in the palace.
Enter CELIA and ROSALIND.
Cel. Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word?
Ros. Not one to throw at a dog.
Cel. No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with 5 reasons.
Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one should be lamed with reasons and the other mad without any.
Cel. But is all this for your father? 10
Ros. No, some of it is for my child’s father. O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will catch them. 15
Ros. I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart.
Cel. Hem them away.
Ros. I would try, if I could cry hem and have him.
Cel. Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. 20
Ros. O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself!
Cel. O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of service, let us talk in good earnest: is it possible, on such a sudden, 25 you should fall into so strong a liking with old Sir Rowland’s youngest son?
Ros. The Duke my father loved his father dearly.
Cel. Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, for 30 my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate not Orlando.
Ros. No, faith, hate him not, for my sake.
Cel. Why should I not? doth he not deserve well?
Ros. Let me love him for that, and do you love him because I do. Look, here comes the Duke. 35
Cel. With his eyes full of anger.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords.
Duke F. Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste And get you from our court.
Ros. Me, uncle?
Duke F. You, cousin: Within these ten days if that thou be’st found So near our public court as twenty miles, 40 Thou diest for it.
Ros. I do beseech your Grace, Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: If with myself I hold intelligence, Or have acquaintance with mine own desires; If that I do not dream, or be not frantic,— 45 As I do trust I am not,—then, dear uncle, Never so much as in a thought unborn Did I offend your Highness.
Duke F. Thus do all traitors: If their purgation did consist in words, They are as innocent as grace itself: 50 Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.
Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.
Duke F. Thou art thy father’s daughter; there’s enough.
Ros. So was I when your Highness took his dukedom; 55 So was I when your Highness banish’d him: Treason is not inherited, my lord; Or, if we did derive it from our friends, What’s that to me? my father was no traitor: Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much 60 To think my poverty is treacherous.
Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay’d her for your sake, Else had she with her father ranged along.
Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay; 65 It was your pleasure and your own remorse: I was too young that time to value her; But now I know her: if she be a traitor, Why so am I; we still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learn’d, play’d, eat together, 70 And wheresoe’er we went, like Juno’s swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.
Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, Her very silence and her patience Speak to the people, and they pity her. 75 Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name; And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous When she is gone. Then open not thy lips: Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have pass’d upon her; she is banish’d. 80
Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: I cannot live out of her company.
Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself: If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, And in the greatness of my word, you die. 85
[Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords.
Cel. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am.
Ros. I have more cause.
Cel. Thou hast not, cousin; Prithee, be cheerful: know’st thou not, the Duke 90 Hath banish’d me, his daughter?
Ros. That he hath not.
Cel. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: Shall we be sunder’d? shall we part, sweet girl? No: let my father seek another heir. 95 Therefore devise with me how we may fly, Whither to go and what to bear with us; And do not seek to take your change upon you, To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out; For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, 100 Say what thou canst, I’ll go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?
Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us, Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! 105 Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
Cel. I’ll put myself in poor and mean attire And with a kind of umber smirch my face; The like do you: so shall we pass along And never stir assailants.
Ros. Were it not better, 110 Because that I am more than common tall, That I did suit me all points like a man? A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, A boar-spear in my hand; and—in my heart Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will— 115 We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have That do outface it with their semblances.
Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
Ros. I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page; 120 And therefore look you call me Ganymede. But what will you be call’d?
Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state; No longer Celia, but Aliena.
Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay’d to steal 125 The clownish fool out of your father’s court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
Cel. He’ll go along o’er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him. Let’s away, And get our jewels and our wealth together; 130 Devise the fittest time and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made After my flight. Now go we in content To liberty and not to banishment. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: As You Like It, I, 3.
Act I, Scene III — ] SCENE VIII. Pope
A room...] Capell. An apartment... Theobald.
Enter...] Re-enter... Pope.
7: there were] were there Anon. conj.
11: child’s father] Ff. father’s child Rowe (ed. 2).
26: strong] F1 F2. strange F3 F4.
32: not] nor F2.
33: I not] I hate Theobald conj.
he not] F1 F2. not he F3 F4.
34: SCENE IX. Pope.
36: Enter......] Enter Duke with Lords Ff (after line 33).
37: safest] fastest Collier MS. swiftest Singer conj.
39: ten] two Anon. conj.
44: mine] my Rowe.
53: likelihood] F2 F3 F4. likelihoods F1.
66: It...remorse] omitted in Rowe (ed. 1).
72: inseparable] inseparate Collier MS.
77: seem] shine Warburton.
86: SCENE X. Pope.
whither] where Pope.
87: fathers] F1. father F2 F3 F4.
89: Thou] Indeed, thou Steevens conj.
92: No, hath not?] Ff. No? hath not? Rowe (ed. 2). No hath not? Singer. No ‘hath not.’ Halliwell conj. See note (VI).
93: thee] me Theobald (Warburton).
am] are Theobald.
98: your change] F1. your charge F2 F3 F4. the charge Singer conj.
103: in...Arden] omitted by Steevens, reading Why...uncle as a verse.
105: forth so far] F1 F3 F4. for farre F2.
108: smirch] F1. smitch F2. smutch F3 F4.
120: worse a] Ff. worser Collier MS.
122: be] by F1.
133: we in] F2 F3 F4. in we F1. away or in true Anon. conj. ~~~~~
Act II, Scene I — The Forest of Arden.
Enter DUKE senior, AMIENS, and two or three Lords, like foresters.
Duke S. Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 5 The seasons’ difference; as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say ‘This is no flattery: these are counsellors 10 That feelingly persuade me what I am.’ Sweet are the uses of adversity; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head: And this our life exempt from public haunt 15 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones and good in every thing. I would not change it.
Ami. Happy is your Grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. 20
Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison? And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, Being native burghers of this desert city, Should in their own confines with forked heads Have their round haunches gored.
First Lord. Indeed, my lord, 25 The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish’d you. To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him as he lay along 30 Under an oak whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: To the which place a poor sequester’d stag, That from the hunter’s aim had ta’en a hurt, Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord, 35 The wretched animal heaved forth such groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting, and the big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool, 40 Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears.
Duke S. But what said Jaques? Did he not moralize this spectacle?
First Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. 45 First, for his weeping into the needless stream; ‘Poor deer,’ quoth he, ‘thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much:’ then, being there alone, Left and abandon’d of his velvet friends; 50 ‘’Tis right,’ quoth he; ‘thus misery doth part The flux of company:’ anon a careless herd, Full of the pasture, jumps along by him And never stays to greet him; ‘Ay,’ quoth Jaques, ‘Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 55 ’Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?’ Thus most invectively he pierceth through The body of the country, city, court, Yea, and of this our life; swearing that we 60 Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what’s worse, To fright the animals and to kill them up In their assign’d and native dwelling-place.
Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation?
Sec. Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and commenting 65 Upon the sobbing deer.
Duke S. Show me the place: I love to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he’s full of matter.
First Lord. I’ll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: As You Like It, II, 1.
1: brothers] F1. brother F2 F3 F4.
5: but] Theobald. not Ff. yet Staunton conj.
6: as] or Collier MS. at Staunton conj.
18: I would not change it. Ami. Happy] Dyce (Upton conj.). Amien. I would not change it, happy Ff.
31: root] roote F1. roope F2. roop F3 F4.
42: the extremest] th’ extremest Ff.
45: into] Ff. in Pope.
49: had] hath Singer (Collier MS.).
much] F2 F3 F4. must F1.
there] F1. om. F2 F3 F4.
50: friends] Rowe. friend Ff.
59: the country] F2 F3 F4. countrie F1. country, of Anon. conj.
62: to kill] kill Collier MS.
up] too De Quincy MS. ~~~~~
Act II, Scene II — A room in the palace.
Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords.
Duke F. Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be: some villains of my court Are of consent and sufferance in this.
First Lord. I cannot hear of any that did see her. The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, 5 Saw her a-bed, and in the morning early They found the bed untreasured of their mistress.
Sec. Lord. My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft Your Grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. Hisperia, the princess’ gentlewoman, 10 Confesses that she secretly o’erheard Your daughter and her cousin much commend The parts and graces of the wrestler That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; And she believes, wherever they are gone, 15 That youth is surely in their company.
Duke F. Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither; If he be absent, bring his brother to me; I ’ll make him find him: do this suddenly, And let not search and inquisition quail 20 To bring again these foolish runaways. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: As You Like It, II, 2.
8: roynish] roguish Staunton conj.
10: Hisperia] Ff. Hesperia Warburton.
17: brother] brother’s Mason conj.
20: quail] fail Lloyd conj. ~~~~~
Act II, Scene III — Before OLIVER’S house
Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting.
Orl. Who’s there?
Adam. What, my young master? O my gentle master! O my sweet master! O you memory Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here? Why are you virtuous? why do people love you? 5 And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant? Why would you be so fond to overcome The bonny priser of the humorous Duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you Know you not, master, to some kind of men 10 Their graces serve them but as enemies? No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Envenoms him that bears it! 15
Orl. Why, what’s the matter?
Adam. O unhappy youth! Come not within these doors; within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives: Your brother—no, no brother; yet the son— Yet not the son, I will not call him son, 20 Of him I was about to call his father,— Hath heard your praises, and this night he means To burn the lodging where you use to lie And you within it: if he fail of that, He will have other means to cut you off. 25 I overheard him and his practices. This is no place; this house is but a butchery: Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it.
Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go?
Adam. No matter whither, so you come not here. 30
Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce A thievish living on the common road? This I must do, or know not what to do: Yet this I will not do, do how I can; 35 I rather will subject me to the malice Of a diverted blood and bloody brother.
Adam. But do not so. I have five hundred crowns, The thrifty hire I saved under your father, Which I did store to be my foster-nurse 40 When service should in my old limbs lie lame, And unregarded age in corners thrown: Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; 45 All this I give you. Let me be your servant: Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 50 The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I’ll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities. 55
Orl. O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, 60 And having that do choke their service up Even with the having: it is not so with thee. But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, That cannot so much as a blossom yield In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. 65 But come thy ways; we’ll go along together, And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, We’ll light upon some settled low content.
Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee, To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. 70 From seventeen years till now almost fourscore Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; But at fourscore it is too late a week: Yet fortune cannot recompense me better 75 Than to die well and not my master’s debtor. [Exeunt.
~~~~~ Linenotes: As You Like It, II, 3.
Act II, Scene III — Before O.’s house] Capell. O.’s house. Rowe
...meeting] Capell. om. Ff.
8: bonny] F2 F3 F4. bonnie F1. boney Warburton.
10: some] seeme F1.
15: bears] wears Anon. conj.
16: Orl.] om. F1.
17: within] with F2.
within this] beneath this Capell conj.
29: Orl.] Ad. F1.
30: so] F1. for F2 F3 F4.
37: blood] proud Collier MS.
39: your] F1. you F2 F3 F4.
41: lie] be De Quincy MS.
49: in] to Capell conj.
50: not] I Rowe.
57: service] favour Collier MS. temper Lettsom conj.
58: service] servants Anon. ap. Halliwell conj.
71: seventeen] Rowe. seauentie F1. seventy F2 F3 F4.
74: it...week] too late: it is a-weak Becket conj. ~~~~~